One Man's Island

by Thomas J. Wolfenden

  Tim shook his head. “You wait here. I’ll be right back with some stuff, okay?”

  “You really gonna come back?”

  “Yes, I’ll be right back.”

  Tim headed back to the truck, wondering what he’d gotten himself into. What the hell did ‘two sleeps’ mean? Two days? If that was the case, the kid was already dead… No, he had to at least try. He retrieved a coil of rope, and dug through the cab until he found a headlamp, like the kind that spelunkers use. He’d found at a camping supply store on one of his foraging trips and thought it might be useful. With the rope and headlamp, along with a pair of leather gloves, he headed back to the clearing. The girl thankfully stayed out of his way while he tied one end of the rope around a nearby tree stump, and tossed the free end down the hole. Putting the headlamp on and checking to see if it worked, he looked over at the girl.

  “I’m going to lower myself down, and see if he’s okay. I can’t promise you anything, but I’m going to try.”

  “Please help him, mister, he’s all I gots left!”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  He sat on the edge of the hole, figuring he could shimmy his way down with his back against one side, and then use the rope to climb back up. If this kid was hurt down here, he’d have to figure out some way of bringing him up without doing more damage. About ten feet down he looked up to see a round hole of sunlight broken by the outline of a small head and fright wig. How deep was this hole? Was it an old well or an air shaft to a coal mine? If it was the latter, it could be hundreds of feet deep, and the rope was only about forty feet long. He got another ten feet down and stopped there, looking down between his legs. About five more feet below him a shape of a body was lying in an unnatural position.

  “Hey, Geoffrey, are you okay?” he called out with no reply. Scrambling the rest of the way, he was at the bottom of what was now clearly an old well.

  He saw right away that Geoffrey was definitely not okay at all. On leg was folded completely under the body and he could see the femur bone sticking out of a gash in his pant leg, which was black with dried blood. Lifeless eyes looked back at him, through half open eyelids. Geoffrey was dead, probably bled to death from the fracture.

  “Shit,” he said under his breath and stood to look up at the figure so far above him. This was the part he hated. Taking a deep breath in the cold dampness of the well, he took hold of the rope and started climbing his way out. When he reached the mouth of the hole, wide, red-rimmed, hopeful eyes were staring at him. His eyes and expression belied him, and he could see the bottom lip start to tremble and the eyes welled up with tears.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know how else to say it. Your friend Geoffrey is dead, honey.”

  The sobs became a steady wail, and the child threw herself to the ground. Tim let her go for a bit while he recoiled his rope and took his headlamp off. Going over to the girl, he helped her get up.

  “He was all I had!”

  He pulled her to him and she latched on tightly, sobbing into his torso. After several minutes she calmed a bit, but still wouldn’t let go.

  “Come back to the truck and we’ll get something to eat.”

  “’Kay…” she said, and sniffled again. They walked silently back to the road together. When they got to the truck, Tim tossed his gear into the bed and got some canned fruit cocktail out. Kids loved fruit cocktail. He opened a can of soda for each of them, and they ate with plastic spoons silently. Finishing her food, the girl belched loudly.

  “Scuse’ me,” she said, and giggled. “I kinda’ knew he was dead, but I was really hopin’, you know? Then you came and I really got to hopin’.”

  “It’s okay. I did try. My name is Tim. What’s yours?”

  “Robyn, with a ‘y’.”

  “Well, Robyn with a ‘y’, it’s really nice to meet you!” Tim said, and held out his hand to shake.

  “You’re not from ‘round here, are ya?” she said in an accent dripping West Virginia.

  “No, I’m not,” Tim said. “I’m from up north a bit. Philadelphia. I came down after the winter to see if I could find anyone else.”

  “Did ya?”

  “Well, I found you, didn’t I?” he said, not really wanting to bring up Paul and the others he’d had the misfortune of running into. The last thing this kid needed was something like that to worry about.

  “I reckon you did!” she grinned.

  He laughed at that. He then looked at the girl, and wondered what to do.

  “Where do you live, Robyn?”

  “Just over there,” she pointed down the road.

  “Well, let’s get you there, and we’ll figure out what to do. Sound like a plan?”

  “Okay,” she said agreeably, and he helped her into the truck. He started it and put it in gear, then he asked, “How old are you?”

  “I’m thirteen.”

  “Really?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. She looked more like ten. Skin and bones really, probably suffering from borderline malnutrition that went back before The Event, he supposed. She couldn’t have been any taller than four foot ten, and maybe eighty pounds soaking wet.

  “Really! A lot of folks think I’m just a little kid!”

  “I believe you,” he said with a smile. He followed her directions, and it only took a few minutes to get to an overgrown and run down trailer park, and he stopped in front of a shabby singlewide, garbage strewn all around a tiny, rickety porch.

  “Is this home?”

  “Yep. Mama was savin’ for a new doublewide with her tip money from the diner.”

  “Is there anyone else here besides you and Geoffrey?”

  “Nope, just us was all.”

  Tim could immediately smell the slow decomposition of the bodies in the trailers all around him. He couldn’t let her stay here. They walked through the front door, and another smell immediately hit him.

  Flies were all through the trailer, and the stench of human waste assaulted his senses. Apparently, they hadn’t thought to use water in buckets or something to flush the toilets, or bathe for that matter. He looked around the living room of the small trailer and saw two mattresses on the floor next to a wood stove, the floor almost covered, with empty potato chip bags, soda cans and canned soups and stews. A roach crawled across his foot, and he was reminded of some tenement hovels he’d been in Philadelphia.

  “Okay, Robyn, here’s what we’re going to do,” he said finally. “I want you to get things of yours, whatever you want to take, and you’ll come and stay with me. My place is tiny, but it’s clean and comfy. You okay with that?”

  “Well, I guess. Where’s your place?”

  “I’m over near Athens, in Pipestem State Park. I’ve got a little camper with running water and a shower and everything,” he said, hoping to get out of this depressing dump as soon as he could.

  “I’ve been there before! We went on a class trip there once.”

  “Alright then, get what you want to take, and let’s go.”

  “Wait. My Mama always said not to talk to strangers. How do I know you ain’t gonna hurt me or anything?”

  “Robyn, hurting you is the last thing I’d do.”

  “Okay,” she said, after a moment’s contemplation. She looked around, and dug through some blankets on one of the mattresses, pulling out a very soiled stuffed teddy bear that looked like it had seen better days.

  “Okay, I’m ready.”

  “That’s all you want to take?”

  “Yeah, Mama gave it to me when I was little. He’s Bad Bear. Got nothing else I really want.”

  “Bad Bear? He’s not going to cause any trouble, is he?”

  “Nah, he’s not bad anymore!”

  Poor kid, he thought. As they piled into the truck and headed back east, his mind was reeling. What the hell am I going to do with a thirteen year old? I don’t know what to do with a goddamn kid! They drove on, and he thought he’d better get her some new clothes. He remembered seeing a Walmart just off of I-77 and
Rt. 460 in Princeton. They’d stop there and get her a whole new wardrobe. He pulled into the parking lot and her eyes widened.

  “Are we going to Walmart?”

  “Yep, we’re going to get you some new clothes to wear. We can’t have you running around in those old things.”

  “Wow! Walmart! Mama always said it was a fancy place she’d take me to one day when she got enough money! Can I get anything I want?”

  “Yes, but within reason, only stuff that is functional, okay? That means jeans, sturdy shoes, underwear and warm jackets for winter.”

  “Oh, okay,” she said, a little crestfallen, but still excited. He parked where he usually parked, in the fire lane. They got out and walked to the doors. Tim used his shoulder, easily pushing the automatic doors open, and they walked into the unlit store. Every time he did this, he got the creeps. He didn’t know why, he just did. He could smell the bodies lying somewhere unseen, and hoped they didn’t bump into one. Using flashlights, they wound their way to the children’s clothing, and started picking things she’d like. He had her go to the dressing rooms, checking for bodies first, and had her try on several pairs of jeans until she found some that fit her. He had her get them slightly larger than what would normally be her size, in the hopes he could put a little weight on her with some proper food. They loaded up a cart with her booty— ten pairs of jeans, several shirts, girls’ underwear and thermal underwear for winter, flannel shirts, a down jacket, wool socks and two pairs of sturdy hiking boots, along with some shorts, tank tops, sneakers and flip-flops for the summer. She walked by the bras and briefly looked, a dark cloud crossing over her face for a moment, and then quickly passing. Tim got himself some more t-shirts, underwear and socks while he was there. He also went to the personal hygiene aisle and got some girly shampoo, some toothpaste and two new toothbrushes. As they were heading out of the store, they both passed the checkout lanes.

  “Typical Walmart, I’ve got a full cart, and no one at the registers!” he laughed, but Robyn didn’t get the joke.

  “Tim, is this stealin’?”

  “Well, not really, honey. Things have sort of changed.”

  “Yeah, they sure did.”

  They loaded their swag into the now overloaded truck and headed for the park. They rode in silence, and Tim was furiously thinking about his lot. He had no clue how to raise a child, especially a girl. Now what was he going to do? He’d have some idea if it was a boy…

  They pulled into the park and wound their way along the road until he came to the hidden turnoff he’d carved out of the woods to lead him up behind his camper. He parked and got out.

  “Help me unload the truck, and then we’ll get you cleaned up.”

  “Why you got all this stuff hanging over it?” she asked when she took in the camper.

  “What stuff? Oh, you mean the cammo netting? So no one can see it,” he replied, grabbing a handful of stuff out of the bed of the truck.

  “Why wouldn’t you want anyone to see it?”

  “I’ll tell you later, after supper, okay?” he said, skillfully avoiding the question. They unloaded all their booty into the trailer, and then Tim unloaded all the propane tanks he’d acquired and stacked them up with the rest of the filled ones outside, covering them up with a green Army tarp.

  He double checked the pump and hose he had run up from the creek and fired up the generator. After rearranging things in the cramped quarters of the camper, he made up the girl’s bed in the front berth that was over the little dinette table. He looked around and decided it was going to be really cramped, but they’d make do. He handed Robyn a fresh towel, soap, shampoo and a toothbrush, and pointed her in the direction of the shower.

  “You need a bath, young lady!” he said, and she hung her head and marched off to the tiny bathroom. “The water heater is small, so you won’t have a lot of hot water.” In a few minutes he heard the water turn on, and he busied himself with what to have for supper. He decided on some spaghetti, and used the untainted pasta he’d found earlier that day, and opened a jar of pre-made sauce to heat on the range.

  In about ten minutes Robyn came out wrapped in a towel, looking like a drowned rat. Her hair was soaked, but looked a lot cleaner, however he could still see dirt behind her ears. He decided to leave it at that, and went outside in the evening air to let her dry off and get dressed in privacy. It wasn’t too bad now, but it was going to be really hard to keep one’s modesty in the winter. He sat on a folding camp chair and smoked a cigarette, looking at the sky. Storm clouds were brewing, and it would probably rain later on. He heard the door of the camper open, and turned to see Robyn come out wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top, but still barefoot. Her hair was still wet, and he tossed her a brush he’d forgotten to give her before.

  “Thank you,” she said, sitting down in another chair next to him, and began to brush through the tangles. The dirt still behind her ears bothered him, but he didn’t say anything. He’d get her to take another shower later before bed. They sat silently for a while, and Tim finished his smoke, and expertly field-stripped it in Army fashion.

  “My Uncle Jake used to do that.”

  “What?”

  “With his cigarette butts; he used to do that.”

  “Oh, old habit from the Army.” he said, pocketing the refuse.

  “Are you in the Army?” she said, brightening.

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  “I want to join the Army when I’m older!”

  “Oh, you do, eh?”

  “Yeah, Mama said it’d be the only way I could get money for school, and get out of the Holler.”

  “Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore. You like spaghetti?” he asked, changing the subject.

  Her eyes widened and her head bobbed rapidly. “I love spaghetti!”

  “Okay, spaghetti is what we’ll have! Come on, you can help me.”

  The pot he’d left to heat was going at a good rolling boil now, and he took an amount of pasta he’d reckoned was enough for both of them, out of the box, broke it in half, and put in in the boiling water. He then stirred the sauce. He got two plates out of the cupboard and some forks from the flatware drawer, and handed them to Robyn.

  “Here, you can set the table.”

  When the pasta was about ready, he tipped the pot into a colander in the sink and let it drain, then brought it over to the table and split the steaming noodles evenly between the two plates. He then returned with the sauce, and did the same, making a big flourish with the spoon, which earned him a laugh. He grabbed a can of Coke for her, and a beer for himself out of the tiny refrigerator sat down opposite her.

  “Dig in!”

  “Aren’t you gonna say grace?”

  “Eh, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, Robyn,” he said.

  “You say it!” she said. He was really uneasy. It had been years since he’d said grace at the supper table.

  “Okay, here it goes..,” He bowed his head. “Rubba-dub-dub, thanks for the grub! Yayyyy, God! Now let’s eat before it gets cold.”

  Robyn laughed heartily and dug into the food. She ate ravenously, and was done in a few minutes. She wiped her mouth daintily with her paper towel and belched loudly.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment to the chef,” Tim said jovially. “Do you want more?”

  “No sir. Thank you. That was really good. Ain’t had a nice supper like that in a while!”

  “I’m glad you liked it,” he said, standing and picking up both plates. “I’ll wash, you dry, okay?”

  “Okay!” she said, He handed her a dishrag, filled the tiny sink with water and some dish detergent, and began scrubbing away, handing off each vessel to her, which she dutifully dried and put on the rack. After they were done, he put all the dishes away, checked the battery charge level, and saw that it was fully charged. He went outside and shut down the generator then went to his laptop, putting in a CD of The Who, and took the M4 to the dinette table.

  �
�You got a computer?” she asked excitedly. “We can get on the interwebs!”

  “Sorry, honey, no interwebs. That’s all gone now too. Just some music is all we can do with it now.”

  “Oh,” she said crestfallen. “Mama always said you can contact anyone on the interwebs. What happened, what killed everyone back in the holler…that happened everywhere? Like even in Charleston?”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry to say, everywhere, like the whole world.”

  “Everybody?”

  “Well, I guess not everyone, but most,” he said, looking her right in the eye. He didn’t know how to explain what had happened to a thirteen year old. Hell, he didn’t know it all himself either, like why it seemed only domesticated animals were killed, at least those that didn’t adapt readily to returning to the wild. Pigs could apparently, but not cows or sheep.

  “Is that why you have that?” she asked, pointing at his carbine.

  “Yeah, honey. I didn’t want to scare you earlier, but a while back, I had a run-in with some really bad people. So that’s why I stay hidden and I have this,” he said, and began to break the weapon down for cleaning.

  “Why are you doing that?”

  “Well, a good soldier takes care of his weapon, and I like to believe I’m a good soldier.”

  “Oh, okay,” she said, watching him intently.

  Noticing her curiosity, he explained what each part was, what it did and how to clean it. She paid rapt attention to him, but he really wasn’t sure that everything he said was sinking in. Probably not, he figured, but hell, it was conversation. That’s what he really craved. He finished cleaning the rifle and reassembled it, putting it away next to his bed.

  “Okay, Robyn. Some ground rules that if you want to stay here, you can’t break. The number one rule is, don’t ever touch any of the guns without asking me, okay? I’ll teach you to shoot if you want. I’ve got a little .22 rifle you can use, but you mustn’t ever, ever touch them without asking. That’s one rule I’m very strict with. No ifs, ands or buts.”

  “Yessir!” she said, saluting him.

  “I mean it. This isn’t a toy.”