by A. American
“I miss ice cream. I can see it now; hell, I can taste it when I think about chocolate peanut butter Haagen-Dazs.”
“And that, I miss that too,” Karen mused and drew closer.
“Does it sound odd to say I miss McDonald’s French fries?” Neal joked.
“McDonald’s? When did you eat McDonald’s?”
“Well…”
“Secrets? Now I hear about dark secrets?”
“I wouldn’t call grabbing a large fry now and then a dark secret.”
“What else have you kept from me?” Karen prodded.
“Besides all my mistresses, nothing,” he joked.
She jabbed him in the side with her elbow. “You better be kidding.”
“Ouch, I am, geez.”
“Anything else?”
“No, no other secrets.”
“Not that, anything you really miss.”
“A good sci-fi movie.”
“I miss pizza. Don’t ask me why, but a nice thin crust with roasted garlic, sausage, onion and mushroom sounds good right about now.”
“Pizza at three a.m.?”
“Anytime, God, my mouth is watering thinking about it.”
Neal leaned close and gave her a full kiss on the mouth.
She returned his kiss and began to caress his body. She stopped, pulled away slightly, and said, “I don’t miss the spare tire you were carrying. You look and feel good,” she purred.
“If only I knew the apocalypse diet was the one way to bring back my lean and mean twenty something look, I would’ve done it long ago.”
She ran her hand across his chest and belly. “Wow.”
He leaned in and kissed her again, this time more firmly and passionately.
“I’m scared,” whispered Beth from the doorway.
Neal and Karen jumped.
“What is it, sweetheart?” Karen asked.
Beth pushed the cracked door fully open and entered the moonlit room. “I had a bad dream.”
Karen got out of bed, approached Beth, and gave her a warm embrace. “Come on, honey, let’s get you back in bed.”
Beth stood firm and asked, “Can I sleep with you and Daddy?”
Karen looked towards Neal, who sat up and shrugged his shoulders.
“No, honey, you should sleep in your own bed,” Karen replied. Normally Karen would have said yes, but tonight she hoped to return and continue the intimate moment she and Neal had been having.
“No, Mommy, I’m really scared,” Beth resisted.
“Come, Beth, let’s go back to bed. It was just a bad dream.”
“I dreamed you died,” Beth cried out with tears following.
Karen knelt and gave her another embrace. “It’s okay, sweetie. It was just a bad dream, nothing more.”
“I saw you, you were there, dead,” Beth said, pointing towards the bed.
Karen petted her hair and attempted to comfort her.
“Your eyes were open, but they just stared. You were dead, Mommy, you were dead,” Beth cried.
“Karen, it’s okay. She can jump in bed with us,” Neal said softly.
“Come on, baby, jump in bed with us,” Karen said, taking her by the hand and escorting her to the bed.
Beth and Karen both got in the bed with Beth snuggled between them.
Neal leaned over and gave Beth a dozen small kisses on her cheeks and forehead. “So, Mommy and I were talking about what we’ve missed since the power stopped. So far on the list we have ice cream, sci-fi movies, French fries, pizza…”
Excited to take part in the conversation, Beth blurted out, “Mac and cheese.”
“Yeah, mac and cheese, I miss that too,” Neal said.
“But not with any of that yucky stuff you put on it,” Beth countered.
“What yucky stuff?” Neal asked.
“The hot sauce,” Beth replied.
“You just need to acquire the taste, that’s all,” Neal said, defending his use of Tapatio hot sauce.
Karen tickled Beth and said, “I agree with you, yucky.”
“Whatever, all I know is hot sauce is proof that God loves us.”
Karen rolled her eyes even though Neal couldn’t see. It wasn’t a gesture out of contempt but one of love. She and Neal had met nine years before and one thing that she loved about his personality was his humor. He was the one man that made her truly laugh.
“I miss my friends,” Beth said.
“You do?” Neal asked.
“Yeah, I miss Ella the most.”
“I know, you two were besties,” Karen said, rubbing Beth’s arm.
“Are they still alive?” Beth asked.
The question threw Karen and Neal. “Why would you ask that?” Neal asked.
“I heard you and Mom talking about seeing people dead and…”
Karen leaned in and asked, “And what?”
“I heard Daddy say something about wondering if the Reynolds and your other friends were dead.”
Karen sighed. “We were just talking.”
Neal sat up, cleared his throat, and replied bluntly, “Honey, the world has changed and not exactly for the best. It’s different and, well…”
“What were you about to say?” Karen asked him.
“It’s time we were honest with her.”
“No, she’s just a little girl.”
“Karen, she needs to know, not the gruesome details, but we can’t shield her from the realities out there.”
“No,” Karen insisted.
“Karen, I’m just going to chat with her. She’s going to find out one way or another and I’d rather have her hear it from me directly than to overhear me and not understand the context.”
Karen thought for a second before replying, “How about we discuss what you’re thinking of saying?”
Neal also paused before responding. “Fine.”
“Tell me,” Beth urged.
“No, your mother’s right. We both will discuss what’s happening out there, but do it later.”
“C’mon.”
“No, now get some sleep,” Karen said.
Beth crossed her arms and grunted.
Neal leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. “Get some sleep.”
Beth grumbled.
He got closer and whispered into her ear, “And I don’t think Ella and her parents are dead. I was just wondering. After a lot of thought I came to the conclusion they were fine. Ella’s daddy is a smart guy; I’m sure he got to Ella’s grandparents’ house safe and sound.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, now close your eyes. I need you bright eyed and bushy tailed in the morning, you’ve gotta help Mommy inventory the pantry.”
“Okay, love you, Dada.”
“Love you too.”
“Love you, Mama.”
Karen kissed her and whispered, “Love you, baby.”
Neal rolled onto his back and immediately thoughts of the Reynolds came rushing in. He didn’t know for sure if they were safe, but telling Beth they were did ease her mind. Was that right for him to do? Being a parent was not an easy job, and those who thought it was were usually not parents. When you first discovered you’d be a parent, you really didn’t know what to expect. Yes, many people experienced joy but also fear came. Would you be a good parent? Would you have all the answers? Would your kids grow up to be good people? There had been many books written on parenting, but were any of them correct? How did you talk to a child about the apocalypse? he asked himself. Just how did you begin that conversation, over a family dinner? ‘Hi, Beth, the world as you know it just ended and you may not survive. Do you want rice or beans?’ He had thought before of discussing what happened with her, but he never could find that right moment. Now with her asking questions like she just did, he knew it was the time.
It didn’t take long for Beth to fall back to sleep. Her heavy and rhythmic breathing gave him peace, but it was now time for him to get up and prepare for the long day ahead.
CHAPTER THREE
“Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man.”
– Friedrich Nietzsche
Guatay, CA
Charlotte woke abruptly when the door opened. She opened her eyes, but the canvas sack that covered her head prevented her from seeing. She squirmed on the floor as best she could with her arms bound behind her and her legs tied tightly together.
Voices hit her ears. She couldn’t make out if they were the same men who took her and Hope.
“Hope, you there?” she asked.
No reply.
“Hope?”
“She’s not here; she’s in another room.”
“Please don’t hurt us, please,” she pleaded.
A hand touched her arm.
She scooted away.
“I won’t hurt you, I promise. I’m here to bring you food,” the man said.
This voice was different than the others.
The man again reached and touched her arm, this time more gently. “I won’t hurt you, I swear.”
There was something in his voice that soothed her. She quit moving and allowed him to sit her upright.
The man removed the bag from her head.
Charlotte squinted and looked away when the light of the early morning hit her eyes. When her vision adjusted, she looked around to get acquainted with her new surroundings and with the man.
He was kneeling down just feet in front of her.
“Where’s my sister?”
“She’s just in the other room. She’s fine, well, not exactly fine, who could be in this situation?” the man said.
“I want to see her,” Charlotte insisted.
“Are you hungry?” the man asked.
Charlotte shook her head.
“I’ve got some food here. I’ll leave it, and you can eat when you’re hungry, okay?” the man said, setting a plate next to her.
Charlotte kicked the plate.
“That wasn’t nice,” the man said. “But I understand.” He picked up an orange that had rolled off and placed it back on the plate. “Here’s some water too. You need to stay hydrated.”
“I want my sister,” Charlotte barked.
Another man stepped in the small cinder-block room and asked, “You need help, Drew?”
Charlotte recognized this man as the one who had disarmed her.
“I got this,” Drew replied, his gaze still on Charlotte.
“Let me know, that one is feisty,” the man at the door said.
“She’s fine, just scared,” Drew countered.
“Whatever, hurry up, we have to make a run for the boss,” the man said and walked away.
“I need you to eat and drink. You need to stay strong for your sister.”
Charlotte glared.
Drew reached towards her.
Charlotte kicked his hands.
“If you’re going to eat, I need to untie your arms, and I’ll untie your legs so you can at least pace around the room.”
Charlotte thought for a moment and realized she didn’t have any power, and if he was going to hurt her, he could do so regardless. She turned slightly and offered him her hands.
Drew untied her hands and then her feet. “All better.”
Charlotte still couldn’t find her ability to speak unless it was about Hope.
Seeing nothing but fear coming from Charlotte, Drew tried to calm her with casual conversation. “Your sister told me your name is Charlotte. That’s a beautiful name. Mine is Drew, short for Andrew, but no one’s called me that since I was a kid.”
Charlotte nodded.
Time wasn’t his ally, so he decided to alleviate her fear with some reassuring words. “I’m one of the good guys. I won’t hurt you and I’ll make sure they don’t either.”
“I want to see Hope,” Charlotte blurted out.
“I’ll see about making that happen.”
“What are you going to do with us?”
Drew looked down; his long black hair fell around his face. “Nothing if I can help it.”
“What do they want to do with us?”
He looked up and said, “You have to trust me; I’ll keep you safe.” Drew got up quickly and exited the room.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Neither should a ship rely on one small anchor, nor should life rest on a single hope.”
– Epictetus
El Centro, CA
Carlos slid the blade of his Spyderco Police model folding knife across the whetstone. The gritty sound the steel made crossing the stone brought back fond memories of his childhood. Like a skipping record, the voice of his father would repeat the process of sharpening a blade. After a dozen passes, he gently touched the edge with his thumb. “Just about right.”
He ran the blade a half dozen more times across the stone then closed it and placed it back in his right-hand pocket of his blue jeans.
He glanced at his old Timex watch before removing it and winding it for the day. It too brought back memories, as it was a gift from his father. The watch had been inexpensive and wasn’t worth much, but to Carlos it was priceless, as it represented his father’s struggle for freedom many years ago in Cuba. That watch had been with him during his fight against Fidel Castro and journeyed with him across the ocean as they fled the island nation to find a new home in America.
Carlos knew nothing of his father’s struggles except for the few stories detailed over the years. The watch came to Carlos on his sixteenth birthday, but it wasn’t until later in life did he appreciate its significance. He thought that only when someone experienced true misery or suffering did they gain a real understanding of how precious life and happiness were.
Carlos missed his father and wished he were with him and his family. Having a man like him during this current strife would be beneficial, but alas, it couldn’t be. His father had passed ten years back, but he didn’t leave alone. He had arrived in a new land with nothing and no one, but the day he closed his eyes for the last time he was surrounded by the loving family he had created.
With his knife sharpened and his watch set, Carlos was ready to tackle the day ahead. He exited the garage, which doubled as his shop, and entered the house. The first thing that hit his nostrils was the savory smell of fried eggs. Instantly his stomach grumbled and mouth watered. He weaved through the hallway until he reached the small kitchen; there he found his wife, Natalie, and his son, Ricardo.
“Good morning,” Natalie said, not taking her attention away from the eggs cooking.
“How’s the fuel looking on the stove?” Carlos asked, referring to the gas canister on the old Coleman camping stove.
“This tank is half full, but I have two more. Thank God you found that stash,” Natalie replied.
“Dad, when can I come with you?” Ricardo asked, his somber face buried in his hands.
Carlos walked over to him and rubbed his shoulders. “Soon, very soon.”
“That’s what you always say,” Ricardo grumbled.
Carlos sat down next to him and leaned close. “Ricky, my son, it’s dangerous out there. I need to make sure you’re capable of handling yourself first, plus your mother—”
Cutting Carlos off, Natalie interjected, “Will never allow it, period.”
“I’m eleven, I can shoot a gun, and you’ve taught me how to fight with a knife,” Ricardo moaned.
Carlos felt for his son. He knew too well the desire to see what was happening outside the comfort and relative safety of their small community. He patted Ricardo on the head and said, “Soon, I promise.”
Ricardo pulled away and, in frustration, got up from the table and stormed off.
“Ricky, sit back down,” Carlos urged.
Ricardo didn’t listen and disappeared down the hall.
“I’m going to have to get him schooled up and soon, you know that,” Carlos stated flatly.
“He’s just a boy.”
“Those are old sensibilities; times are different. He needs to see and experience
the world when we can have some control.”
“No.”
“Natalie, you think you’re protecting him, but he has to see it before it comes here unannounced.”
Natalie carefully placed perfectly cooked eggs over easy on a plate and turned to face Carlos. “He’s not ready.”
“I agree, but soon he will be.”
She stepped over to Carlos and set the plate down. “I’m not ready for that.”
Carlos took her hand and said, “Trust me; I wouldn’t put him in a situation that could get him hurt.”
“You don’t know that. You even remarked the other day how you know something bad will happen. You sat right there and said we’ve been lucky but that luck would soon run out. I don’t want that luck to run out when you’re out there with Ricky.”
Carlos sighed. He picked up the fork next to his plate and poked the eggs until the golden thick yolk oozed onto his plate. He lowered his head and breathed in deeply. “They smell delicious.”
“And they are, I made them,” Natalie joked.
“Where’s your dad?” Carlos asked, referring to Natalie’s father, who was living with them now.
“Still in bed. He said he wasn’t feeling well.”
“Hmm, sorry to hear that. I’ll call off our run today,” Carlos said.
“No, you go. We need you both out there. Pop will get up; he’s just feeling tired is all.”
“You sure?” Carlos asked, concerned about leaving them with her father not well. While they were gone on runs, Frank kept watch over the families.
“We’ll be fine. Now eat while they’re hot,” Natalie said, turning towards the stove.
As he ate, he couldn’t stop thinking about all the bad things that could go wrong, and the thought of Ricardo being in the middle of trouble haunted him, but at the same time he needed him to be prepared and capable. One of the only ways to do that was to get him out on the road. That wasn’t going to happen now, but soon, so in the meantime he’d need to keep training him.
Neal press checked the Sig Sauer P239 to ensure he had a round in the chamber before placing the pistol in the holster of his tactical vest. On his hip he carried a Glock 22. It was his main carry pistol, and he loved the .40 caliber; hence why he carried the Sig. That model came in a 9mm, but on one of his outings he came upon the .40-caliber version and made it his backup. He couldn’t be described as a gun lover before, but now he wouldn’t be caught without one outside the house. The Glock had been his since before, but it mostly remained in a safe in the closet.