by Roman Cesaro
Robert pushed the exit door to the alley open. Sunlight poured in, illuminating the carnage. The rays of light shone through the smoke and cast eerie shadows across the bodies. He checked outside the door and saw no one else. They were alone again in the bloody aftermath. A breeze came through the door that Robert had propped open. It began to take the smoke and putrid smell of death away from the backroom, but could not remove Ben’s anguish over his dog. Robert pulled the two bodies out the door and left them on the black asphalt. He then walked around to the front of the store where they had tied the horses, and put the intruders’ shotgun and rifle into Ben’s saddlebag. He scratched the two horses on the head and neck for a moment before he went back inside to retrieve the antibiotics.
It was nearly an hour before Ben could walk away from his dog and go to the storefront where Robert was waiting for him.
Robert sat on the sidewalk with his knees drawn upward to allow him to wrap his forearms around his knees. He was swinging the bag of antibiotic bottles back and forth, bumping his shins, admiring the heft of the bag and how, even after splitting with Ben, they would leave with an abundance of medication.
Ben walked toward Robert and sat on the ground near him.
“I’m sorry about your dog,” Robert softly remarked.
“She was a good dog.” Ben cleared his throat and took several deep breaths before slowly exhaling. “I don’t know how I’m going to tell my son about this.” Ben paused, trying to control his grief. “I do know that she sacrificed her life for ours.” Ben hung his head low and shook it back and forth, trying to suppress his grief.
Robert shook the bag full of bottles, rattling the capsules inside. “We should go,” he said, shaking the bottles once more.
Ben stood up and brushed the dust from his pants. “Yeah, let’s go. We need to beat sundown.” He adjusted his hat and walked directly toward his horse, not looking back.
Robert followed in quick succession with the sack of antibiotics in hand.
Both men untied the reins and mounted their horses simultaneously. Ben gently spurred his horse and Robert ’s horse followed. The echo from the rhythmic clack of the horseshoes on the pavement slowly faded away as they got farther from the strip mall. They passed the bank, wrecked from dynamite, and crossed onto the street. They rode into the setting sun as they left the apocalyptic scenery behind them.
After several miles, Ben leaned forward on the saddle horn and adjusted his position. He tilted his hat forward to shade his eyes and looked at Robert riding next to him.
“Did you ever think your life would be like this?” asked Ben.
“Never. I took everything I had for granted.” Robert gestured around the horizon with his hand. “The grid went down and took everything with it.” He shook his head in disbelief. “The grid supported our lifestyle and civilization, and now it’s all gone. This is a nightmare I’ll never wake up from.”
Ben tapped his gun. “Think about what you’re going to do when your ammo runs out,” said Ben, as he raised an eyebrow in Robert ’s direction. “How can you protect yourself?”
Robert only responded with a sigh before Ben ended the conversation with a slap to the rear of his horse. The horse began to trot faster and he assumed the lead. Ben caught himself looking down for his dog running near his horse’s legs. He swallowed his sadness and spurred his horse onward.
They made it back to the small corral before sunset. Robert was the last to dismount and gave his horse a few pats on the neck before climbing over the wooden rail fence. Ben took his holster off and hung it back on the gate.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay? I have plenty of work, and we can feed you.”
“No thanks, we have to move on.” Robert held up the bag of antibiotics. “Ready to split ‘em? They’re all the same. Here’s six of the twelve we got. I’ll keep the bag if you don’t mind,” said Robert , as he handed Ben the bottles of medication.
Ben held the bottles close to his body with both hands. “I’d shake your hand but…” Ben looked down to his hands holding the large bottles.
Robert smiled and slapped him on the shoulder. “No problem. Thanks for your help.”
Ben tipped his head forward. “Be safe and good luck.” He turned and walked toward his house.
Robert gripped the bag tight in his hand and ran back into the cornfield, guessing which row that would take him back to their campsite. He ran past endless stalks of corn. The leaves monotonously slapped his face, making it difficult to keep a fast pace through the field. He finally emerged to see Alexis and Kyle. Kyle lay listlessly on the ground with his wife at his side. She had placed a wet cloth on his forehead, and was clutching the crucifix necklace with the other hand as she whispered the Lord’s Prayer.
“Hey,” Robert yelled, announcing his return.
Alexis had her back turned and was startled, but visibly happy.
“Is that it? Is it in the bag?” Alexis asked, pointing to the white plastic bag wrapped around Robert ’s fist.
“Six bottles,” replied Robert , holding the bag upward.
Alexis knelt back down by her husband. “He’s burning up. How many does he take?”
Robert looked confused as he read the label. “I honestly don’t know.” He scratched his head, frustrated. “Let’s just give him three or four a day. What do you think?”
Alexis agreed to the plan and tried to bring Kyle back to consciousness. Kyle opened his eyes with considerable effort. He was sweating and delirious from the fever. Alexis held a pill in one hand and opened her husband’s mouth. She put the pill in his mouth and encouraged him to drink the entire bottle of water. Kyle did so, coughing several times. She placed his head gently back down and he was immediately fast asleep.
Robert sat by the fire with his rifle across his lap. He stared into the glowing embers and watched the tendrils of white smoke dissipate into the encroaching darkness of the twilight’s night air. The day’s events repeated in his mind. He was obsessing over all the details of the day and what he could have done differently. He realized that it was another day that had almost brought him to the limits of his own mortality. Each time he thought about how close he had come to dying, he unconsciously clutched the rifle tighter. Finally, his hand began to cramp and he realized the manifestation of his obsessive thoughts of death. He resolved to himself that he would remain strong, and he would survive. His family was depending upon him to return, and he needed to do that quickly. He shook the cramp out of his hand and removed the clip from his rifle. With a quick flick of his wrist, he ejected the chambered cartridge from his rifle and watched it arc into the air before hitting the ground. The brass casing made a small click as it hit a pebble in the dirt. He picked the cartridge up and blew the dirt off of it, trying unsuccessfully to see his reflection in the shiny brass, before he inserted it back into the clip. Physically and mentally exhausted, he leaned his torso forward and rested his face in the palms of his dirty hands, trying to forget the day’s events.
Alexis walked to his side and he felt her gentle touch on his shoulder.
“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Alexis, looking hesitantly at Robert .
“No.”
Chapter Eighteen
Kyle’s fever gradually began to recede, and then completely dissipated by the second day. On that day, Kyle stood up and tried to walk, encouraged to do so by his wife and Robert . He was shaky from the illness and lack of food, but he began to regain his appetite after the fever disappeared. Kyle paced back and forth through the campsite trying to restore some steadiness to his legs, and as he was pacing, he felt the empty space in his jaw from the missing molar. Kyle took a final lap around the campsite, and then sat near Robert , who was taking his turn stoking the campfire.
Robert sat cross-legged on the ground in front of the fire and asked, “How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better.”
“You’ve looked better, too.”
Kyle smiled and stared int
o the fire. He held up one hand to feel the heat. “Be careful what you say, old man. I can still kick your ass.”
“Oh, really?” said Robert , sarcastically. “Don’t forget, I already knocked one of your teeth out this week.”
At Robert ’s comment, Kyle furrowed his brow as he touched his jawline. “I just don’t remember. I can’t seem to remember the last two days. The fever and that damn snake bite took me down.”
“It’s probably better that way,” said Robert , as he turned his head to look toward the cornfield. He saw Alexis moving through the rows of corn, gathering young ears to prepare for supper. “Did you see any lights at the end of a dark tunnel?”
“I’m not quite ready for that yet,” said Kyle, confidently pointing at his chest with the swollen thumb on his right hand. When Kyle shifted his position on the ground, he heard the capsules rattle in the plastic bottle at the bottom of his deep pockets. He remembered Alexis mentioning Robert ’s mood on the return from his trip into town. Robert was withdrawn and did not want to talk about that day. Curiosity prodded Kyle to ask what had happened there.
Kyle tapped the bottle in his pants, rattling the capsules again. “What was it like in town? Did you have to wade through some deep shit?”
Robert nodded and looked away. He stared at the flames while he collected his thoughts. “Apocalypse,” said Robert . “Three young kids, barely teenagers, tried to kill us for our horses. “They’re…dead.” Robert was looking at the campfire, but he saw the images of the people that he and Ben had shot just a few days ago.
Both men jumped up when they heard Alexis scream. Ben had come back to the campsite and emerged through the corn, frightening Alexis. She had been gathering ears of corn from the field and her arms had been full of at least a dozen ears of corn, which were now scattered on the ground at her feet.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” said Ben. He took his hat off and smiled at her.
Alexis looked down at the ears of corn at her feet and was embarrassed that Ben had caught her taking corn from his field. She looked up, timidly waved, and tried to smile. “Hello again. You scared me.”
“I wondered if you were still here.” Ben walked toward Alexis. “Take this. My wife baked it.” Ben handed her a loaf of cornbread. It was in an old plastic bread bag.
Alexis opened the bag and smelled the contents. It smelled delicious. She closed her eyes and breathed in the aroma of freshly baked cornbread again, exhaled, and cast a large grin toward Ben. “Thank you. It smells wonderful. Would you like to stay? We have cans of beans. I can warm some up for you.”
“Sorry,” said Ben, apologetically, “I can’t stay long. There are a million things I need to get done.” Ben used his hat and waved it in a broad arc toward Robert and Kyle. Then Ben began to look intently around. He peered deeply into the rows of corn behind him. Facing the corn, he whistled loudly and, almost instantly, a Labrador retriever puppy came running toward him from the field. It circled his boots, and then darted toward Alexis, smelling her ankles and the ears of corn on the ground. Ben walked toward the campfire snapping his fingers. The dog followed closely, greeting Robert and Kyle with its cold wet nose.
“I thought you might still be here.” Ben looked back at Alexis. She was picking the ears of corn up from the ground. “My wife baked some cornbread. Alexis has it.”
“We couldn’t leave with an invalid.” Robert jokingly pointed at Kyle.
Kyle offered his right hand as a greeting. “You must be Ben. It’s good to meet you, again. I can’t remember much from the past two days.”
Ben reached for his hand, but stopped when he noticed the swelling.
“Sorry, pal. Your hand looks terrible.” Ben extended his left hand and gave Kyle a firm handshake.
Robert pointed toward the puppy. “How’d you come across that thing?”
Ben bent over to scratch the dog’s neck and back. “I finally made it to one of my neighbors. We talked about our problems and decided to work together. He has an old tractor that still works and a storage tank of diesel fuel. We agreed to help each other and share food. I have corn and he has beans. It’s a good combination.” He looked at Alexis, remembering her invitation to eat cornbread and beans with them. “I have a place to store the harvest and a grain mill to grind the corn into meal.” He gave the dog a gentle pat and stood up again. “And he gave me a dog. It’s a good dog.” Ben smiled at the puppy.
Alexis walked back to the campfire. She grinned as she held up the plastic bag with cornbread inside that Ben had just given them. Not saying anything to the three men, she set the ears of corn down and found a can of beans to warm by the fire.
“Y’all going to stay long?” asked Ben.
Robert looked at Kyle and cast a thumb in his direction. “Maybe leave tomorrow if he can handle it.”
Kyle smirked, and then his stomach growled loudly from hunger.
“I’m not going to keep a man from his supper.” Ben put his hat back on. “Best of luck to you,” said Ben, as he turned away. He slapped his leg and the puppy followed him into the field.
The next morning Kyle decided he was strong enough to try to continue downstream. They gathered their belongings and packed the rafts. The rafts were near the riverbank when Robert decided to look around the campsite once more to make sure they forgot nothing. He picked up an ear of corn and threw it back toward the field. He saw movement inside the cornfield, and then Ben’s puppy ran out, whimpering and limping toward Robert . The dog had its tail between its legs and began to cower at Robert ’s ankles.
Robert called out loudly. “Ben…Ben…your dog is over here.”
There was no reply. He looked back toward the river and he knew that Kyle and Alexis were waiting. Robert bent down and touched the dog’s back leg. It howled in pain.
Robert called out loudly again. “Ben…Ben…I have your dog…it’s hurt.”
“What’s going on?” yelled Kyle from the riverbank.
Robert motioned for Kyle to come back and showed the injured puppy to him.
“That’s his dog alright and it’s hurt,” said Kyle.
“We can’t just leave him here.” Robert looked toward the grove of trees that Ben had said was thick with copperheads, and remembered the story of Ben’s old dog that died from a snakebite it got out here. “I’ll do it. I’ll take it back.”
Robert gently picked up the dog and began to walk into the cornfield. The coarse corn leaves irritated his skin and were blinding as they whipped into his face. He could not block them with his hands because he was carrying an injured dog. As Robert neared the end of the row of corn, the dog began to whimper loudly.
“Easy now, you’re almost home,” said Robert , as he gave the puppy gentle pats on the back.
When Robert stepped out of the corn, the dog tensed, began to growl, and tried to get away. Robert did the best he could to hold the dog tight and not hurt it. When he looked up from the dog, he noticed an old van near the house. He did not remember the van being there from days before. Robert thought it might be the neighbor Ben had talked about, but Ben had not mentioned that they had a van that was working. Robert got nervous. He stopped abruptly and looked around. Quickly, he went back into the cover of the cornfield and watched the house. He put the dog down and stared at the house and its surroundings. He saw no movement, but thought he heard something behind him. He listened closely; it sounded like crying. The dog began to sniff the air and it limped back into the cornfield toward the noise. As they got closer, the sound grew louder. It was someone crying. Curled in the dirt between rows of corn was a young boy. His knees were up and he had wrapped his little arms tightly around his legs. He buried his face into his thighs and he was crying loudly, not hearing Robert ’s or the puppy’s approach. The boy felt the puppy’s cold nose bump his cheek and he sat up. When the boy looked back and saw Robert approaching, he fell back, shuffling his feet and hands backwards in the dirt, not gaining any traction. Robert could see the look of terror i
n his eyes.
Robert knelt down into a less threatening position. “Are you Ben’s son?”
The boy nodded, with fear in his eyes.
“Are you hurt?”
The boy shook his head. He still had tears running down his face.
“What’s wrong?”
The boy pointed in the direction of his house. “Those men are going to hurt my parents,” said the boy, with a trembling voice. “My dad went to the neighbor’s house, so he wasn’t here when they showed up. They came to the house and wanted food. They said they would leave if my mom gave them something to eat.” The boy’s face contorted as he tried to keep himself from crying. “I was outside and they grabbed me and told her to open the door or they would hurt me. They kicked my puppy. My mom opened the door. When my dad got back, they got him, too. That’s when I got away.”
Robert ’s heart sank into his stomach. He knew he had to help them.
“How many?
“Two.” The boy held up two trembling fingers.
“Guns?”
The boy nodded.
“Do you know what kind of guns?”
“I think they were shotguns.” The boy closed his eyes as he thought. “They looked like the kind my dad uses to hunt birds.”
Robert nodded. “Listen to me carefully. I am going to try to help your parents. You need to follow me and hide by the river. I have friends there and they’ll help. Okay?”
The boy nodded and wiped the tears from his face. He stood up, and Robert could see that the boy was barely eight years old. The boy picked his little dog up and touched his cheek to the dog’s soft fur.
“Follow me. Let’s hurry.”
They ran through the corn back toward the campsite. Curious and concerned looks of both Kyle and Alexis met them when they exited the field. Kyle shrugged his shoulders in the distance. He was confused. Why was Robert running back toward them with a boy and the puppy?