Aftermath (Book 2): Aftermath

by Donovan, J. S.

  Light snow twirled around them.

  Naomi found her voice. “Where is the couple that used to live here?”

  The Hispanic man stared at her. His lips were closed. His hands were steady.

  Naomi spoke carefully, making sure her words did not provoke any hostility. “I’m looking for my parents. This is their house.”

  The vague shapes of family photographs on the hallway wall behind the man shone in the moonlight.

  Calvin spoke up. “Just tell us what happened to the homeowners and then we’ll be on our way.”

  Suddenly, the man began to rant at them in Spanish.

  Alarmed, Calvin took a step back.

  Naomi didn’t know the language, but it was obvious the man didn’t want them here.

  A flickering light glowed around the bend of the hallway.

  “Who is out there, Juan?” A voice called out.

  Following the light was an elderly man with a lantern. He wore a sleeping cap and long underwear. He had a long face with age lines on his cheeks and squinted eyes. His back was slightly hunched, and he held the lantern just above his eye line. A little rough around the edges and harboring a strong sense of lawfulness, the old man squinted at Naomi.

  Juan spoke to him in hasty Spanish.

  The old man ignored him. “Naomi?”

  He took a step forward.

  Naomi’s heart swelled. “Yeah, Dad. It’s me.”

  Her father, George, pushed past Juan and embraced Naomi with a strong hug. Being in her father’s arms, she felt like a child again. It was a feeling she sorely missed. They stood in the door’s threshold. For a moment, the stranger with the shotgun didn’t matter, nor did the ambush they’d just survived.

  George ended the hug.

  A perplexed expression overtook his long, clean-shaven face. He looked at the assault rifle slung over Naomi’s shoulder. Mouth falling slightly open, he looked to Calvin. His hair was a mess. His glasses were slightly lopsided. He wore the clothes he slept in: a sweater and sweats with thick socks. The pistol tucked in his belt line started to sag his pants.

  As George became more aware of the situation, he swallowed and stepped aside. “Come in. It's too cold out here to talk.”

  Naomi and Calvin stepped past him and Juan. George shut the door and locked it.

  They moved into the living room. It had a comfy couch, large TV, and various tables and stands covered with cute glasswork, i.e. little horses, small people, and other baubles her mother had acquired over the years. The house always smelled of grass and spring air, despite it being winter and most of the grass was dead.

  George told them to wait there. Calvin and Naomi sank down on the nice couch. Compared to the Rover, the cushions were clouds from heaven. Using a lighter, Juan lit the wick of an old railroad lantern standing on the coffee table. Afterward, he sat down on the lazy boy and laid the shotgun across his lap. He eyed Calvin and Naomi with suspicion.

  Noticing this, Calvin fidgeted. He pulled out his pistol and put it on the coffee table. “Happy?”

  Juan stared.

  George returned with a few bottles of water and a box of crackers tucked under his armpit. He handed them to Naomi and Calvin and lowered himself onto the nearby rocking chair. “Should I wake your mother?”

  Naomi shrugged.

  Calvin finished his water off with the first gulp.

  George tilted his head as he looked at the two of them. “How did you get out of Philadelphia?”

  “The Rover,” Calvin replied, violently tearing open the crackers.

  “That old clunker?” George said.

  Calvin stopped mid-chew to give him a nasty look.

  George corrected himself. “I knew it would be put to good use one day.”

  Calvin gave him a brief smile and continued eating.

  The draining silence returned.

  “Okay,” George said, sitting up. “Tell me what has happened. Why are you dressed like that? Why the guns? Where’s Trinity?”

  “Someone attacked Allen’s house,” Calvin said, losing his appetite. “Killed him. Destroyed his home. Took Trinity.”

  “Oh,” George replied with dizziness as he processed the information. “Allen? Trinity? How-- I don’t… Naomi, how did this happen?”

  “Can we talk tomorrow, Dad?” Naomi asked, not masking her exhaustion.

  George looked at her like she was crazy. The feeling passed briefly and he leaned back in the chair, letting his mind race.

  “Hello?” a female asked.

  Naomi turned back to see her mother. She was skinny with a diamond-shaped face that had high cheekbones. She had grey hair and wore a nightgown.

  Leaving the assault weapon to her side, Naomi stood up. Her mother’s face scrunched as a tide of emotions crashed over her. “Naomi...”

  They hugged.

  “You said something about Allen?” Mary asked with alarm. “Did you see him? Is he okay?”

  Sick of acting tough, Naomi let herself cry. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  Horror bleached Mary’s face. “How?”

  “Saving me,” Naomi replied.

  “I don’t understand,” Mary’s voice broke. “Allen was… he was…”

  That night, the whole family wept together. Calvin joined in the sorrowful hug as they all wailed the loss of Allen and Trinity. Though he did well to hide his tears, even Juan wept alone in the corner of the room.

  Rays of afternoon sun streamed from the nearby window and kissed Naomi’s pale skin. She forced herself to sit up and glanced around her childhood room. She wore clean clothes and her hair felt like it had been washed last night. Mary set her up in the heated bath, but Naomi only remembered it vaguely.

  She swiveled her noodle legs over the edge of the mattress.

  Her socks touched down on the cold floor.

  She stood up.

  Blackness filled the corner of her vision. It overtook her sight.

  She heard a thump.

  When she opened her eyes, she realized she was on the floor.

  The door swung open and Calvin rushed in. The first thing Naomi noticed about him was his combed hair. He knelt and gave her a hand to sit up. “You shouldn’t be out of bed,” he said gently but firmly.

  Naomi pulled away from his hand. “We need to save Trinity.”

  She tried to stand but felt light-headed.

  Before she knew it, she’d sunk back to the floor. She leaned against the side of the mattress, too tired to try to rise again. She suddenly felt the sharp pain in the side of her head.

  “Wait here,” Calvin said as he got to his feet. “I’ll be right back.”

  He hurried out of the room and vanished down the hallway.

  Naomi touched the source of her pain and brought back two fingertips stained with fresh blood. Naomi told herself to stand up if she truly cared about Trinity, but her body had finally given up.

  Calvin returned with peroxide, a patch bandage, and a cloth. He knelt next to her, put the cloth on the mouth of the bottle, turned it over quick to get it wet, and then put it on her forehead.

  She gasped as the sharp stinging pain erupted out of her wound. It only lasted a few seconds. Calvin put the patch bandage on and helped her stand. She trusted in his strength to get to her feet and back in the bed.

  “Cal,” she said weakly. “Trinity needs us.”

  Calvin smiled sadly at her. “I know, but you need sleep.”

  Naomi furrowed her brows. “How are you still fine?”

  Calvin didn’t reply. Though he looked at her, his mind was miles away. Guilt formed lines on his face. He kissed her on the forehead. It felt like it was more out of obligation than love. “Get some rest,” he whispered and headed out of the room.

  Naomi glanced around her room, at a loss as to what to do. Her eyes scanned over the high shelf that ran around three/fourths of the room. It held a variety of stuffed animals she had collected in the early part of her life. On the wall were posters of different cities like New Yor
k and San Francisco. Naomi scoffed. Flashes from her adolescence awoke in her mind. She remembered doing everything she could to escape this room and the countryside to be engrossed in city culture. Years later, she wondered why she ever left the tall mountains, beautiful pastures, and horses. Her youth wasn’t the brightest point in her life. She suffered from anxiety, depression, and loneliness. Part of the reason that she became a therapist was to understand herself. She learned a few simple things about life that became her guiding truth.

  First, it was one’s environment or circumstances that shaped them. The best way to avoid indoctrination of negativity was to actively go another way. It could sometimes be tiring work but did wonders for establishing her identity.

  Second, she learned that if she wanted something, she’d have to take it. Not in some amoral way, but in keeping with the mindset of the conqueror.

  Third, she learned to keep peace. Life was about relationships, and knowing what battles to pick was paramount.

  Fourth, she learned to enjoy the tiny victories. This was an active process that took years to perfect and seemed to be usurped the moment that her situation turned upside down.

  And last, that no matter who they may be, everyone would let her down at some point in her life. Knowing this going into every relationship helped her extend a portion of grace and forgiveness. There was only one love that was perfect, and she’d never get it from another human being.

  She lay back in her bed.

  Her mind went to a million ways she could’ve prevented Trinity’s kidnapping and Allen’s death. The thoughts were worthless, especially in lieu of the truths she lived by.

  At some point, Mary walked in with a tray of food. It had a bowl of steamy chicken broth and a tall glass of cranberry juice. Eyes down and puffy from crying, she placed it on the bedside table and turned back to the door.

  Naomi sat up. “Mom.”

  Mary turned back to her. “Yes, dear?”

  “I’m sorry,” Naomi said with glassy eyes.

  Mary smiled sympathetically and sat at the edge of her bed. Gently, she took Naomi’s hand. Both their hands were ice cold. “I know, sweetie.”

  “I wish…” Naomi gathered her thoughts. “I wish things ended differently.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  The phrase felt cliché, but her mother made it sound sincere.

  Naomi’s memories went back to the final days. “Allen and I had a big fight before he died… We never got a chance to make amends.”

  Mary looked down at her lap. She gathered her thoughts. “When your brother first joined the SEALs, I was terrified. Every night I’d think about all the ways I failed as a mother. I’d go through a mental checklist of everything I wish I could tell him. This went on for months. Whenever we talked, I tried to correct every past mistake, but Allen was distant. He took after his grandfather in that way. One day I was apologizing for something I did when he was a boy. He waited until I finished and said that he had forgiven me years ago. It took me a while, but I realized that he’s a lot more understanding and emotional than I thought. It took him telling me that directly for me to grasp it.”

  Naomi mustered a tired smile. “That must’ve been quite the day.”

  “It was,” Mary sighed. She turned to Naomi. Her eyes were green like Trinity’s. “Your brother may have been mad at you at the moment, but you are his sister. He loved you, and I’m sure he would have expressed that if he were here.”

  Flashes of the basement blinked in Naomi’s mind. “He died for me.”

  Mary’s eyes glossed over. “That’s Allen. He may not have been good at making friends, but he took good care of his family.”

  Naomi looked at her mom. “You’re handling his passing very well.”

  Mary cracked a sad smile. “During every tour and every classified mission, I knew I may never see him again. I learned to live knowing he could be dead. What was harder was you, Naomi. Knowing you were trapped in Philadelphia during this blackout frightened me to no end. I thought for sure I wouldn’t see you until after this mess.”

  Naomi hugged her. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

  “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

  After her mother left the room, Naomi ate quickly. She didn’t realize how peckish she’d become since last night. After eating, she crashed.

  When it was dark outside, she awoke to find George seated next to her bed. His head was down. His weathered hands squeezed tightly together. He mumbled to himself.

  Naomi rolled to her side, watching the old farmer pray.

  He opened one eye briefly, re-closed it, and continued his mumbling. A few seconds later, he sat up and parted his hands. “It’s time for dinner. Want me to bring it in?”

  Shaking her head, Naomi forced herself to rise. George took her arm and gently helped her to her feet. Naomi felt lightheaded for a moment. She glanced around the dark room. Light streamed from the lantern in the hallway. Her father had left it out there so the light wouldn’t wake her. He picked it up as they headed down the hallway and went into the dining room. The sturdy table had a round top with countless scratches only visible under the right lighting conditions. At the center was glassware holding canned vegetables, seasoned grilled chicken, and toast and jelly. Naomi salivated as she joined Mary, Calvin, and Juan at the table.

  Calvin flashed a tired grin Naomi’s way. She could tell by a quick glance that he hadn’t slept at all. They joined hands and said grace, but Naomi couldn’t keep her eyes off the food. The others let her get her platter first. She stopped herself from going overboard, despite wanting to consume everything on the table. She bit into the tender chicken breast and her taste buds exploded.

  “Did you make this?” She looked to her mother.

  “That was Juan,” George said proudly.

  Juan smiled shyly.

  Naomi thanked him. “You’re a very good cook.”

  “Yes,” he replied with this thick Mexican accent.

  Chewing, George said. “Juan has been working for us the last few years.”

  Mary glared at him. “Manners, George.”

  Looking slightly peeved, George stopped chewing, swallowed, and then continued. “Anyway, Juan's the best farmhand we’ve ever had. After the blackout, he got stuck with us.”

  Calvin rolled his green peas around with his fork. “You must have a lot of supplies to be living like this.”

  “Well,” Mary said, laying out a napkin on her lap. “Allen had told us to store up on canned foods a few years ago.”

  With a full mouth, George added, “We’ve got the well around the back and a whole chicken coop.”

  Mary glared at his chewing.

  George glared back.

  Mary continued. “In a week, we’ll have to make a store run.”

  “Good luck,” Calvin mumbled as he kept toying mindlessly with his food.

  Mary forced a smile. “Why’s that?”

  Calvin glanced her way. “Looters have stripped every convenience store. You’d be happy to find a can of Spam.”

  Naomi gave her husband the evil eye. He went back to eating.

  “I’m not worried,” George remarked, feigning confidence. “The Lord will provide. ‘Sides, with the two of you helping out at the farm, we’ll make do.”

  Calvin and Naomi traded looks. Over the years, they’d gotten good at reading each other. Tonight, their mind was on the mission.

  “Trinity first,” Calvin said.

  “I meant after...” George fumbled with his words.

  Heavy silence descended over the house.

  Juan spoke up. “How do you plan to find her?”

  Naomi sank back. “Finding her is not the issue. It’s getting her back.”

  “How?” Juan asked, a fire behind his words.

  Calvin sighed loudly and rubbed his brow. “We’re figuring that out.”

  “But she’s in danger? Now?”

  Guilt stabbed Naomi and twisted inside her. She l
ost her appetite. A small voice spoke to her. Your daughter is in captivity, and you are eating and sleeping like nothing is wrong. What kind of mother are you?

  The meal ended in silence.

  Calvin dragged himself to the bedroom while Naomi helped Mary with the dishes. She looked around the quaint house. Though they lacked a fireplace, they had a coal-fed furnace from when the house was built in the early 1930s. It radiated heat.

  Naomi dipped the rag in some well water and scrubbed the dish. She handed it to Mary. She dipped it in the bucket of rinsing water.

  “Calvin looks ill,” Mary said.

  “These last few days…” Naomi couldn’t find the words. She settled for, “It’s not been good for any of us.”

  Mary scooted Naomi to the side. “Be with him. I’ll finish this.”

  Holding the old railroad lantern, Naomi approached the bedroom. She didn’t know why she hesitated, but she imagined some part of her didn’t want to approach her husband, knowing that it would only remind her of the daughter they needed to save. She mustered up a little courage and turned the doorknob.

  Calvin sat against the closet door. His knees were bent up to his chest. His head was low. Naomi closed the door behind her as she entered. He craned up his head, revealing his tear-ravaged face.

  “Oh,” was all Naomi could say as she lowered herself next to him and rested her head on his shoulder.

  “I should’ve gone with the Ryan brothers,” Calvin sniffled. “At least I would’ve died trying to get her. Now, I’m here while she’s... ”

  “We’ll get her back,” Naomi reassured him.

  Calvin chuckled sorrowfully. “Yeah. Sure. Some quirky college professor is going to stand a chance against Logan. A professor in electronics of all things. Useless profession. Now what do I have? I’m not a farmer. I’m not a soldier. It was Allen this family needed to survive. He was the one that could have gotten Trinity, and now he’s gone. For what? Us? What a joke.”

  Naomi brushed her fingers against his cheek and gentle turned his face to her. “You’re the soldier I need.”

  Calvin chuckled. “Naomi, I’m a loser--”

  Naomi kissed him before he could finish.