One Man's Island

by Thomas J. Wolfenden

  “Vince? My name isn’t Vince!” she said incredulously, hand on her hip.

  He laughed. “Every barber I ever knew in Philadelphia, was named Vince. And none of them was anywhere near as pretty as you are!”

  “I thought maybe you had slipped a track,” Robyn said, snapping the towel to get the hair off of it. He shook his head and smiled. She was even picking up the Army slang he used.

  “Let’s get inside, it’s getting cold out here.”

  They both went inside, and just as they reached the camper door, it started to sleet again. They sat down opposite each other, and Tim thought about his present. How the hell was he going to keep that hidden for over a month? He’d figure something out. That he’d actually thought of it that far ahead, surprised him. For years he’d forgotten birthdays, Christmas and anniversaries until the last minute, rushing out to buy a gift the day before, and usually his choice in presents showed his haste. Maybe he needed this kid as much as she needed him.

  He stood up. “How about some hot cocoa?”

  “That sounds great!” she almost squealed.

  He went to the cabinet over the stove, pulled out a box of instant cocoa bags, selected two, and replaced the box. He then filled the teapot with water, and put in on the range to boil. While he waited, he emptied each bag into a coffee cup.

  “Oh, these got the little marshmallows!”

  “Yum!”

  The kettle whistled and he swiftly poured the boiling water into the two cups, stirring the mix, until each was blended perfectly. He brought both back over and sat down, sipping the hot concoction. They each savored their drinks in silence, listening to the sleet pelt the trailer. It was getting worse, and he was glad they had gotten all the errands done today. This might turn out to be one nasty ice storm before it was over with.

  “I think it’s a perfect night for grilled cheese sandwiches and soup.”

  “That sounds great to me.”

  He again went to the cabinets, opening the door. “We’ve got cream of mushroom, tomato, cream of broccoli…” he looked at her with a wrinkled nose and she laughed. “Chicken noodle, chicken with stars, and a few alphabets, your choice.”

  “Let’s have chicken noodle.”

  “That is an excellent choice, madam!” Tim got two cans out and set them aside. The bread he’d made was actually quite nice, better than any store brand he’d ever had, and after he figured out the yeast and the altitude combination, it was fairly easy to make. The problem now was finding flour that wasn’t spoiled by rodents. The cheese for the sandwiches wasn’t a problem either. He didn’t know what they did with it, but he thought the packaged American cheese slices they had plenty of would last until the next Ice Age. He looked at his watch, and saw that it was just about 4PM.He sat back down, finishing his cocoa, and looked out the window to see a thin film of ice already forming over everything that was exposed to the weather. Yes, it was going to be a nasty one tonight.

  They read their books in silence for a while until it was time to cook supper. They ate in silence, and of that he was glad. Sometimes there was no need for words; just the person’s company was all that was needed. Something Connie had never figured out. That woman would never shut up, and it drove him mad sometimes. The thought of Connie just then saddened him, and it showed.

  “What’s wrong, Tim?”

  “Ah, just thinking about someone in my past is all.”

  “How you could have changed it?” she asked.

  “And you’re thirteen?”

  “Yes. But like you said before, you can’t change the past. And like, worrying over stuff you have no control over, it has no use,” she said. If he’d been on the phone with her, and never knew her right at that point, he’d have put her at around thirty-five.

  Well, I guess that’s what the world ending does to you.

  “True. I wasn’t worrying or anything. Just thought of someone and got sad for a minute. I’m fine now.”

  After they were finished with supper, he took a moment to tuck her into bed and kissed her forehead.

  “Goodnight, Robyn,” he whispered, turning out her light.

  “Goodnight, Tim,” she said back sleepily.

  He yawned and turned up the heater a bit, then went to bed, quickly climbing under the sheets. His last thought that night was where he was going to get that prize turkey for Thanksgiving.

  Chapter 8: Holidays Passed

  Tim need not have worried. The wild turkey, like most big game animals in West Virginia, had grown used to the lack of man in the woods over the past year, and the big Tom that Tim bagged that day was close enough that he could have almost reached out and grabbed it. His heart was pounding when he pulled the trigger. In all of his years of hunting in the woods in Pennsylvania, never had a turkey gotten this close. His idea about using the barbeque worked like a charm, and the big Tom turned out perfectly. Even all the trimmings were fantastic: cranberries and marshmallows, the candied yams, even the pumpkin pie with the stale crust was delicious.

  Tim and Robyn sat at the dinette until late in the evening, swapping stories of Thanksgivings past, and laughed and cried. Tim told the same dubious story of the first Thanksgiving that his father had told every Thanksgiving, which made Robyn laugh until she cried, and at the end of the day, they were truly thankful for one another. Tim even relented a tiny bit, and let her have a half glass of wine with dinner, which she turned up her nose at after the first sip. That night they left the cleaning up until the next morning, and went to bed with really full bellies and satisfied hearts. Even though winter was settling in with a heavy, cold fist, they were snug and content in the tiny homestead.

  November gave way to December, and winter had finally set in for good as they made final preparations for their imminent confinement. They moved as much of the canned and jarred goods as possible from the shed to the trailer, and every nook and cranny was crammed to the bursting point with food. Last winter, he really didn’t have to worry much about it, he’d been in his house, and he was alone. Now, there were two people in an increasingly tiny space, and they were rapidly running out of room. They had discussed earlier the pros and cons of moving into one of the houses in town, but had ultimately decided that removing the rotting corpses— and the lingering smell that would always remain— was something they couldn’t live with. Therefore, they decided on staying in the tiny camper for the winter. He thought that maybe they’d find a larger one in the spring. Maybe a fifth-wheel type, that the M880 could handle, and move it to a better location. The tiny gasoline generator was running even rougher than before, and was beginning to worry him. They used it less and less for electricity, relying on kerosene lanterns for light. But the pump that brought the water from the creek needed electricity. If it didn’t snow, he thought he’d drive back up to Beckley and raid the National Guard Armory there for a bigger diesel generator.

  One thing they did have plenty of was propane. They’d amassed a huge stockpile of the thirty-pound bottles over the last few months, and now had enough to last all winter, even running the heater full-blast all the time. Tim wondered also how well the camper was insulated. Probably not real well, because most people who used them, only used them in the summer months. These trailers were not designed to be used in the way that he and Robyn had been using this one, permanently living in it. It was going to be a big test, of a lot of things, including their ability to still like each other, and not want to kill each other by spring. A few days before Christmas, the weather looked like it was going to hold for a bit, so on a crisp morning, they bundled up and headed up I-77 towards Beckley to find the Armory. Following a map he’d found, they made their way off the Harper Road exit, and wound their way through town, finally locating the Armory. Making quick work of the chain and padlock on the gate that accessed the rear of the building, they drove to the back and found the motor pool. After alighting from the truck, they wandered around looking for things they’d need. Tim found a 100kw towed generator right away
, and backed the M880 up to it, hitching it easily with the military pintle. It was far too large for what they really needed, but it was diesel, and if he could find enough cable in the workshop, he might be able to set it up far enough away from the camper as not to be a nuisance with the noise. The only downside of that was, if he set it up far enough away to not be heard from their camp, they’d have to walk that far in bad weather just to refuel it. They needed the power, though, so he’d thought he’d just take the chance.

  He broke into the workshop next, and found the cables and a junction box he could run several extension cords from. Dragging them back out to the truck, he loaded them into the bed with Robyn’s help. After they were done, they walked back into the building, heading deeper into the darkness using a police Maglite to light their way. Finding the supply room, Tim cut the padlock off that door. He found racks and racks of ACU uniforms, and quickly located several new sets in his size, including a few new pairs of boots. He stopped suddenly, looking at Robyn. He put his clothes down on a table by the wall, and smiled.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Just come with me,” he said. He walked back into the racks, and started to pull out a few ACU tops, trousers and hats in the smallest size he could find, then did the same thing with a few pairs in sizes a little bigger, then the same with boots. A confused look washed over Robyn’s face when they finally made it back to the table where Tim had left his uniforms. He pointed at the table, and she plopped everything down with a grunt. He pulled a duffle bag off the nearby shelf and tossed it to her.

  “Put everything I just gave you into the bag,” he said.

  She did as she was told, cramming everything, not bothering to fold anything. When she was done she looked up at him.

  “Here’s the deal. When you can fit into those uniforms, I’ll swear you in to the US Army and you’ll be a soldier.”

  Her eyes widened in excitement. “Really, Tim?”

  “Yes, really, and it’s Sar’ Major!” he said. “I know it’s what you want, so consider the time from now until you can fit into those uniforms your basic training. We won’t be doing all the forced marches and hours of PT, but we won’t get fat and lazy either,” he said, knowing his own aversion to PT. His knees were destroyed from years of abuse, and when he’d gotten back from Afghanistan last year, he knew he was going to fail his yearly Physical Fitness Assessment, and was resigned to the fact that he’d be forced to retire.

  “This is so great!”

  “Good. I’m glad you approve. I hope you won’t disappoint me.”

  “Oh, I won’t!”

  “Good. Now grab your shit, and come with me,” he said, picking up his clothes, and walking out of the storeroom. He looked back, saw her dragging the duffle bag behind her, and stifled a grin. The bag was almost as big as she was, but she didn’t complain a bit, and even though she was having difficulty, she was beaming from ear to ear. They reached the truck, and he helped her toss the duffle into the bed. Walking around to the driver’s side, he opened the door, and stopped. He hadn’t been feeling quite right all morning, and just got a little dizzy. He shook it off, and climbed into the truck.

  “Are you okay, Tim? You didn’t look so hot just then,” Robyn asked worriedly.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired I guess. We’ve been really running around the last week or so,” he said, starting the truck and putting it in gear.

  “Are you sure? You look a little pale.”

  “I’m okay, sweetheart. I’ll get to bed early tonight. I just need some rest.”

  “If you say so…” she said, clearly still worried.

  They made their way back to the highway and headed south, commenting on how pretty the area really was. Most of the farm animals that had died had long since been picked clean by buzzards and other scavengers, and a shudder ran through Tim thinking of those two kids at the bus stop back in Philadelphia. He knew their fate was the same as every other person caught outside when The Event happened. Then it occurred to him that maybe that might have been a better fate than dying inside and festering away in some building for years. At least with the scavengers it was quicker and nothing was left except for some bones strewn around.

  They pulled into Athens, and stopped at the drugstore to get some Christmas decorations.

  “You can’t have Christmas without garland and lights!” Tim told Robyn.

  When they finally got back to the camp, Tim found a good spot for the generator about two hundred yards away from the camp and set it up there, running the cables back and hooking everything up. He then went back to the generator to start it but it wouldn’t turn over. He cursed the National Guard Unit’s shoddy preventative maintenance program, and finally got it started by using jumper cables from the M880’s battery.

  “Shit wouldn’t have been this sloppy in my goddamn brigade,” he remarked. He needn’t have worried about the noise. It was a huge generator, capable of running a whole hospital unit, but this one was running at just a hair above idle and was producing enough power to run the whole camper and the water pump, yet could hardly be heard twenty yards away. After insuring the seventy-five gallon fuel tank was full, he added the proper amount of diesel stabilizer to the mix.

  “What’s that for?” Robyn asked.

  “It keeps the diesel from gelling up in winter. I put it in the fuel tank of the truck too. “What happens if you don’t?”

  “If you don’t use it, the fuel will get thick and not be able to get through the injectors, and the engine will stop running.”

  They got back in the truck and drove the two hundred yards to the camp, where they were both pleased at the sound— or lack thereof—from the generator. If it had been running full-bore it would be different, but this would suit them nicely. They made a light lunch of canned tuna and got to work decorating their little homestead. He thought the Christmas lights defeated the whole purpose of the camouflage, but it was Christmas. He’d take them down right after. Robyn stowed her new gear at the foot of her bunk, and they busied themselves with hanging the garland and stringing the lights, listening to a CD of Christmas favorites. When they were done, they inspected their handiwork.

  “It looks quite festive!” Tim said, putting his arm around Robyn. She hugged him back tightly.

  “Yes, it is, isn’t it?”

  Shortly after sundown they retired early. Tim woke the next morning, feeling like he’d gone fifteen rounds with Joe Louis. Every bone in his body ached, and his knees screamed in protest as he made his way to the galley, where he found a cheery Robyn already making the coffee. He sat down at the dinette, and looked out the window to see a fresh blanket of snow, about six inches, covering everything.

  “Good morning, Tim,” she said, setting a steaming cup of coffee down on the table in front of him.

  “It’s morning alright, and it looks like we got more snow overnight.”

  “Yeah, I saw that. It’s really pretty.”

  “That it is. Good thing we got everything we’ll need. The sky still looks like more is coming,” he grumbled. “At least we’ll have a white Christmas.”

  Robyn came and sat down opposite Tim with her own cup of coffee. “Are we going to have a tree?”

  Tim looked around the tiny trailer and grunted. “I really don’t see where we could put one, Robyn. It’s cramped enough in here.”

  “Pleeeeaaase?”

  The look she gave him melted the very last vestiges of ice, and he couldn’t refuse her smile. He always was a sucker for pretty blondes.

  “Okay, okay,” he said in defeat. “We’ll go looking this morning for a tiny tree.”

  Even though Tim was really starting to feel run down, he didn’t let it show to Robyn. He thought maybe another night’s rest would do him good, so he kept it to himself. Tim retired to his space in the back to get dressed. When he came out, Robyn was already standing at the door, clad in a down coat and her rabbit skin hat.

  “Nice brain bucket. Where on Earth did you
get that?”

  “A really weird guy from Philadelphia made it for me,” she said with a snicker.

  Grabbing his own rabbit fur hat, he reached under the dinette and pulled out a toolbox he kept there, pulled out a bow saw and stood.

  “Let’s go!”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “Not that I know of,” he said, looking back quizzically.

  “You forgot your American Express card!” Robyn said, rolling her eyes.

  He slapped his forehead theatrically and went back to his bed, returning with the M4, slapping a thirty round magazine home. “Okay, now I’m ready,” he said, slinging the carbine over his shoulder and leading the way out of the camper. It was cold outside. At least there was no wind right now, but it was crisp, and well below freezing. The fresh powder crunched under their feet as they made their way deeper into the woods. They could see their breath, and white wisps of steam curled around their heads on their march through the woods searching for the perfect Christmas tree. They walked for several hours, and Tim finally stopped to rest near a small copse of fir trees.

  “I don’t know, honey. They all look too big.”

  “I know, right? There’s got to be something around here,” she said. Tim looked up at the leaden sky, and saw that it was growing darker. He looked at his watch and saw that it was already almost 3:30 PM. “Well, we’ve got to find something soon, or it’ll be too dark, and we’ll be stuck out here all night!”

  “Oh we will not. You’re a Ranger, you’ll get us home.”

  “Yep, I’m one of those alright,” he said, nodding gravely. “Hey! I just got an idea!” he exclaimed, handing her the saw, walking over to the nearest tree. It was a nice full one, stood about six feet tall, and Tim was just tall enough to see over the top of it.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  He reached into the tree and with all his might bent it down and held it there under one of his armpits.