Saga of the Scout

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Saga of the Scout Page 23

by Cliff Hamrick


  They did not come across any raiders or soldiers as they traveled north along the railroad tracks. The night was cool and quiet as Madison and Ethan walked to the river. As they got closer, they heard the sounds of frogs and crickets chirping. The Texas wildlife went on as if nothing had happened.

  Eventually, they came to the group of rescued prisoners standing by the bank of the river, hiding from view. Andrew was there with a couple of dozen people Ethan had rescued from the railroad and the cramped room in the stadium.

  When Andrew saw Ethan, he ran to him and hugged him. “Holy shit, dude! That was awesome. I can’t believe you did that.”

  Ethan winced as Andrew hugged him. His arm and face were still sore. He also didn’t like people fawning over him.

  “I couldn’t just leave you there like that. But we need to get out of here.” Ethan looked around for a moment. “Where’s the nurse?”

  “Nicole? She took off once we got here. I think she was afraid some of the people would try to kill her. After what she did, I wouldn’t blame them.”

  “Well, we don’t have time to look for her. Let’s get out of here.”

  Andrew nodded as they began walking. “Oh, and, uh, hey. Sorry about making fun of you about the rhinos.”

  Ethan led them further north up the railroad tracks, staying near the rear of the crowd in case the raiders regained their courage tried to follow them.

  He saw the red mountain bike leaning against some trees and remembered the gear he left there. But he decided that time wasn’t on their side and left it behind. Perhaps someone else could find it and get some use from it.

  One of the people in the group, a slightly overweight Hispanic man in a dirty mechanic's coveralls, asked Ethan, “Where are we going to go?”

  “I know some people in Buda. We’ll be safe there. We just have to get through Kyle first.”

  “What’s in Kyle?” Madison asked.

  “Trouble. Maybe.”

  When they arrived at Kyle, Ethan walked in front of the group. He was the only one armed, and he knew if there was to be a fight from the orange jumpsuits, then he would have to be the one to deal with it. But no fight came.

  As the large crowd walked along the railroad and past the houses that bordered it, Ethan only saw blinds closing. Whoever was inside the houses saw the crowd and didn’t bother them. Perhaps numbers are what saved them, and maybe it was just that the orange jumpsuits were somewhere else in the city. Either way, Ethan was relieved after they passed through Kyle without incident as the eastern sky brightened.

  The sun rose just over the horizon, lighting their way and casting long shadows, just as the group entered Buda. There were many houses near the railroad, but like before, no one bothered them as they shuffled by.

  When Ethan saw Cabela’s in the distance, he sheathed his sword for the first time since he picked it up.

  The sun shone down on them brightly from the clear blue sky when they approached the store. Ethan could tell from the outside that they had already boarded-up the front windows to make it more difficult for anyone to come inside. But he was surprised to see a group of the survivors waiting for him as they approached.

  Rachel and Peter were there, as was Larry, all carrying knives or crossbows. Ashley ran out to meet them and jumped into Ethan’s arms, hugging, and kissing him. “I saw what happened in my dream last night!” Her smiled beamed up at him.

  Ethan smiled weakly down at her. She seemed much shorter than the last time. Maybe he got taller? He looked down into her face and noticed a strange shimmer around her eyes and in her hair. She was glowing the sunlight.

  She smiled knowingly up at him. “You can see me now, can’t you?”

  “Yes. What is happening to us?”

  She smiled and shook her head, shimmering trails of light following her hair. “I have no idea. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  EPILOGUE

  In the bright morning sunlight, Ethan walked down the same wide, smooth suburban street that he had walked down hundreds of times as a child. He knew each of the houses in the upper-middle-class neighborhood with their well-manicured lawns, broad Live Oak trees, and not too brightly painted exteriors.

  Now, dead leaves and wet garbage littered the street, and the lawns were overgrown and dotted with weeds. Only the trees and exteriors seemed to be unaffected by the silent decay of the once-prosperous neighborhood. And he knew that eventually, only the Live Oaks would survive the change.

  A couple of days had passed. Ethan needed to heal, which happened faster than he expected, and he wanted to wait with the others at Cabela’s should the raiders get organized and come after them. Though the people stood guard and watched, no one ever came.

  So, he decided to keep his promise to his mother and return home. Like everyone else at the store, their new home, he eventually stopped trying to call her. The voice mail message that had become his only reminder of her voice had stopped picking up.

  The trip into Austin was not easy. The city had fallen into pockets of violence. Whole neighborhoods were either abandoned to the forces of nature or had become small fortresses manned by civilians turned militia.

  In some neighborhoods, ganged had taken over. In others, concerned neighbors had banded together for survival just like his new family at Cabela’s. In some cases, it was difficult to tell the difference.

  He had snuck past areas of violence, not interested in getting involved with whatever squabbles rival groups had with each other. He was surprised to see that guns still worked in Austin.

  Before making his trip, he had stocked up on food and water and wore camouflaged clothing rather than the leather armor of the raiders. It was easier for him to remain hidden that way. He carried a bow in his hand, and the raider sword still hung at his hip, though he did not need to use either during his trip.

  He took a deep breath as he came up his home street and saw his house up ahead, a two-story, red brick house with white columns in the front. His sister’s dark blue BMW was still parked where she left it long ago in the wide driveway in front. The grass, which he had mowed many times before, had grown up to his knees thanks to the warm rains of the Texan Spring.

  It had been over a week and hundreds of miles to get here. He smiled when he saw it. The familiarity of his childhood home felt comforting in an age when nothing seemed familiar. It was a touchstone to his past. Not a perfect past, but it was happy in its own way. But now, the world had changed, and he drew his sword as he approached the front door.

  It was locked, and he didn’t have a key. He cupped his hands over his face as he pressed it against the large plate glass window that looked into the lavishly furnished living room. Everything looked the same as when he left for his mother to take him to visit his father.

  There was an empty wine bottle on the wooden coffee table, but that was normal, especially after he and his sister had been away.

  He walked around the back of the house and through the gate of the wooden privacy fence. The backyard had remained unchanged except for the overgrown grass and the coating of dead leaves from the Live Oak tree floating on the surface of the greening water in their swimming pool.

  He checked the back door. It was locked as well. He peeked inside to see the kitchen. Far more wine bottles sat on the kitchen table.

  He found the key to the back door hidden inside a fake rock near the gas grill on the patio. He put it there years ago after he had been locked out of the house because his mother had locked the doors and passed out. He waited at a neighbor’s house for three hours before she woke up and let him inside.

  He took another breath as he unlocked the door and tried to stay hopeful about what he would find. His hopes fell as the all too familiar scent of rotting flesh hit his nose as he entered the kitchen. He was certain that she was dead. But he wasn’t quite ready to give up hope.

  “Mom?” he called out.

  The word felt muffled even in the large open living room. A stillness hung in the air. He walked up
the wooden stairs that led to the bedrooms. He hoped still that maybe she was just sleeping. Maybe the rotting smell was food that had gone bad. He approached her bedroom door, which was open just a crack.

  “Mom?” he asked quietly as he slowly pushed open the door.

  The morning sunlight streamed in through the windows and created a warm glow from the soft yellow paint on the walls. She was there lying on her back in the huge four-poster, king-sized bed that had once belonged to his parents, fresh cotton sheets pulled up to her neck. She had been dead for days.

  “Mommy?”

  He walked quietly to the side of the bed as if he were afraid that he would wake her up, and she would yell at him for being so noisy. He knelt and looked into her face.

  She had become far too pale, and her the long beautiful blond hair that he and his sister had inherited from her was now a tangled mess on the white cotton pillow.

  He clasped his hands and he cried. Sobbed. He didn’t save her. He didn’t come for her. He didn’t save any of the people that he was supposed to save. Ethan ran and hid when his father needed him. He didn’t even know how to help his sister.

  And he went off to help a bunch of strangers based on some girl’s dream instead of coming for his mother like he said he would. Now, they were treating him like a hero when he knew he was just a failure. The proof was lying right in front of him.

  He knelt there and cried until he didn’t have anything left. Wiping his eyes and face on the sleeve of his shirt, he looked around the room.

  On the wooden nightstand next to her bed was another empty wine bottle and a few empty pill bottles. Under one of them was an envelope with the word ‘KIDS’ written on it. He sat on the edge of the bed next to her body and read the letter inside.

  ‘Dear Emily and Ethan, I don’t know what has happened in this world, and I don’t know where you are. I have tried calling all of you for days but haven’t received a call back. I hope you are safe. I hope your father is safe. I can’t wait any longer, and I don’t know what else to do.

  ‘I know I wasn’t a good mother to you. But you were always great children to me. I don’t deserve either of you. I hope you both can forgive me. Though I didn’t always show it, I hope you will believe me when I say that I love you both and only want the best for you. The only great thing I have ever done in my life was to bring the two you into this world.

  ‘Emily, you are an amazing young woman and a force to be reckoned with. I am jealous of your strength. I know that someday you will show everyone what you can do and will take over the world. Please, don’t be angry with me.

  ‘Ethan, I’ll bet if anyone has found this letter, it is you. You have always been there for me even when I wasn’t there for you. I don’t think the Boy Scouts made you into a great man. I think you were born one. I am sorry that you had to be more of a parent to me than I was to you. But now, you don’t have to take care of me anymore. Please, live your life and enjoy it. You deserve that!

  ‘Love, Mom’

  He felt himself holding his breath at the final words. He read the letter again. Then, he folded the letter and put it in his backpack before going downstairs to the kitchen.

  He found her cell phone still plugged into the wall socket, though the electricity was out. Having gone days without use, there was still power in the battery when he turned it on. He looked through her call history and saw that she had tried to call him, his sister, and his father every day. The last message she received was from him. He played it to remind himself which one it might be.

  “Mom? It’s me, Ethan. Are you OK? Please call me. I’m in a house. A different house.”

  He turned off the message. It was over a week without any other messages from him. He wasn’t surprised that she killed herself. She could never stand to be alone.

  He got a glass of water from the kitchen sink faucet. There was still running water. The fridge was empty. Either she ate all of it or threw it out after it had gone bad and started to smell. He found a bag of his favorite cookies in the pantry. Though they were hard and stale, he ate them anyway. For a moment, he let himself feel like it was just like before.

  He sighed at the last bite of the last cookie as the moment passed, and he decided to do the only thing left for him to do. He went to the garage and found the shovel that his father left when he moved out of the house. Stripping off his shirt and coat, he dug a grave under the sprawling Live Oak tree in their backyard.

  After hours of digging with very few breaks, he returned to her bedroom and gathered her body in the sheets. He carried her down the stairs to her final resting place.

  He laid her in the grave and placed a picture with her. It was the last picture he had of the whole family together on a trip to an amusement park. Everyone was smiling and happy then. He placed the picture in her hands.

  Ethan had no words to say, so he quietly covered her with soil. Of all of the people who had died over the days at least she could get a burial.

  The sun was setting by the time he finished. He didn’t want to travel through Austin in the dark, so he decided to spend one last night in his childhood bedroom.

  After taking a cold shower to wash off the tears and dirt, he laid down in the comfort of his own bed and quickly fell asleep.

  He dreamed. But rather than the dreams of some ancient past or faraway place, he dreamed of a camping trip with his family. He didn’t know if it was a memory or a wish. He didn’t care. They were happy and kind to each other in a world where kindness was the norm.

  When he awoke, the details of the dream faded, but a weight had been lifted off his soul. The sun had not quite risen. He could get an early start. He looked around his room at the toys and games he saved from his childhood and movie posters tacked to the dark blue walls. He collected his Boy Scout Handbook, an older edition given to him by his father, a Boy Scout pocket knife he bought during his trip to Piedmont, and a picture of his sister, beaming after winning one of many gymnastic competitions.

  He left his house to return to Cabela’s and resolved he would never return.

 

 

 


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