Sunfall (Book 1): Journey

by D. Gideon

  “You don’t understand,” Todd said, shaking his head. “I talked with a couple of campus police after lunch. They said the Prince George’s county boys have been busy today.”

  “Doing what?” I asked.

  “Rolling through neighborhoods with their loudspeakers, telling people to stay calm, the power will be back on shortly.”

  I blinked. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. Direct orders from the Governor, from what I hear.”

  “So he’s purposely lying to the people? You know the military’s told him what’s going on,” I said.

  Corey snorted. “Keeping ‘em dumbed down and calm,” he said.

  “Speaking of the military,” Marco said, “what’s Skynet up to?”

  When we’d first come up onto the roof, we’d traded a few tense minutes of staring through binoculars at the soldiers on top of the stadium’s skybox. Their attention was so intense that we finally all put our hands up to show them we didn’t have any weapons. All but one of the soldiers stopped paying us attention, and Marco had given them the nickname.

  “Our every move is being watched from guys in the skybox. Skynet,” he’d said.

  I lifted the glasses back up and took a look. There was still one soldier watching us, while the others looked out in different directions. I raised a hand and waved. He waved back.

  “Still just the one guy watching us,” I said. “Seems friendly enough.”

  “You realize he’s probably looking at you with thermal binoculars, right?” Todd said. “The only reason he’s friendly is because he can see you don’t have any cold metal gun shapes hanging off of you.”

  “Nah, it’s because her silhouette has boobs,” Corey said. “He didn’t wave at me.”

  All three of them chuckled, and I reached over and smacked Corey in the arm. He grabbed his arm as if he’d been shot, then grinned and stuck his binoculars down his shirt and against his chest so that they jutted out underneath the fabric.

  “Maybe now he’ll wave at me,” he said. He put one hand on his hip and waved vigorously with the other.

  “Howdy boys!” He called. I swiped at him again, but he danced out of my way.

  “You’d better stop that Corey, it’s been a while for me,” Marco said. “Any port in a storm, and all that.”

  We blew up laughing. Corey wiggled his ass in Marco’s direction, and Marco reached up and smacked it. Todd backed off with his hands in the air, while I blew wolf whistles. It took us a couple of minutes to quit laughing and get our breath back.

  “Anyway,” I said, gesturing with my binoculars. “Even if they’re not thermal, I know they’re better than mine. These were the cheapest ones they had at Wal-Mart.”

  “If you don’t want them, I’ll take them,” Todd said. “They’re better than what I have, which is nothing.” He raised his hands and turned them over, emphasizing that they were empty. I laughed, but his face grew serious.

  “No, I mean it, Rip. I’ve got 80 miles to get home if this shit doesn’t straighten out, and my glass is in my pack back home with the rest of my mil gear.” He pulled out his wallet and looked through his cash. “I’ve got fifty bucks. I’ll buy them off of you right here and now for fifty bucks.”

  “Don’t be silly,” I said. “They were fifteen dollars.”

  “They were fifteen dollars,” Marco said. “Now? Being able to see ahead and tell if you’re walking into trouble? I’d say they’re worth at least a hundred.”

  Todd nodded. “At least that. But fifty’s all I got on me.”

  I considered it. Between Corey and I, we had two pair. I had a small backup monocular—an old Marlboro branded one I’d found at a yard sale a few years ago for two bucks—in our cache across the Bay Bridge. Even though it was marketing swag for Marlboro, it was a decent piece of glass. It had been made by Vivitar, and was good out to a thousand yards. I’d been looking for another one ever since at every yard sale and flea market we’d been to, with no luck. We could get by with just one pair of binoculars, I was sure of it, but even as cheap as they were, I was reluctant to give mine up.

  “That fifty bucks isn’t going to be any good to her in a couple of days,” Marco said.

  “Could start a fire with it,” Corey said.

  Todd extended the cash. “C’mon, Ripley. Please? You guys have two pair. I’m looking at walking just like you. Having those could really make the difference in me getting home in one piece.”

  “Shit, there goes that option,” Corey said. “I was going to ask if we could get a ride in your truck.”

  Todd shook his head. “My little brother just started his senior year, so I left him my truck to impress the girls,” he said. “It just sits here all semester anyway; I walk everywhere. I got a ride in with Tucker down on the second floor.” He wiggled the cash. “Please, Rip? I want to make it home, too.”

  I sighed. “Fine,” I said. “But when this is all over, you owe me fifty more bucks.” I took the cash and handed him my binoculars. Todd had been a good friend, and had kept our secret about coming up here to Tar Beach dozens of times last year, even when he wasn’t an R.A. Besides, I only had five dollars, and I might be able to use the cash at a convenience store on the way home, before people realized the economy was gone along with the electricity.

  “Thank you so much,” Todd said, and stepped forward and wrapped me in a hug. Over Todd’s shoulder, I could see Corey frowning at me and shaking his head.

  Todd released me, stepping back and slipping the binoculars’ strap over his head. “So when are you guys leaving?” He asked.

  “That’s the question, isn’t it?” Marco said, standing up and brushing off his pants. Corey turned and looked back towards the city, raising his binoculars again.

  “Every time I look, there’s more people out on the street,” he said. “The majority of them just seem to be talking to neighbors, or people-watching, but it’s way more than I’m comfortable walking through with a pack on my back. It just screams ‘rob me’.”

  “So wait until it’s light, like the soldiers suggested?” I said.

  Corey put his glasses down and shrugged. “Everything’s still calm here on campus. I don’t think a few more hours is gonna change that. What do you think, Marco?”

  “If it wasn’t for you guys, I wouldn’t even have anywhere to go,” Marco said. “So I’m following your lead.” He paused for a moment, then held up a finger. “I do think if we’re going to wait until it’s light though, we should go ahead and have breakfast here. Fill up and maybe get a few more sandwiches to take with us.”

  I frowned. “That will hold us off until at least eleven-thirty,” I said. Breakfast started at eleven on the weekends. “Do we want to wait that long? Say we eat and get going around noon; that will only give us seven or eight hours of walking time.”

  “Not to throw shade or anything, but I’ve done long marches,” Todd said. “I don’t think you guys are going to be able to carry packs for eight solid hours. If you’re not used to it, it’s more exhausting than you think.”

  He had a point. I wished I’d practiced walking over the summer with my pack, but I’d been so busy with my internship at the animal shelter and my summer classes that I had told myself it could wait. I had been walking back and forth to the shelter every day, nearly three miles total, but I wasn’t carrying anything. I’d planned on doing laps around campus this semester with my pack once Corey was back, so I’d have company. Now, it was too late.

  Corey blew out a breath. “They’ve both got a point,” he said, giving voice to my thoughts. “If we leave at first light, we’ll be eating our sandwiches for breakfast, and then for lunch, too. By dinner, or maybe breakfast Monday, we’ll be breaking out the ration bars.”

  “Probably sooner than that,” Todd said. “You’re going to eat more than normal. Expending all that energy that you’re not used to doing? You’re going to be ravenous for the first few days.”

  “We only have enough ration bars for the tw
o of us,” I admitted. We’d been stretching our money as it was, and just couldn’t afford more. Hopefully, our scavenging map would help us with that.

  “Sounds like that’s the best plan, then,” Marco said. “Tomorrow after breakfast.”

  “Tomorrow after breakfast,” Corey agreed. “When everyone that’s stayed out all night tonight waiting for something to happen are fast asleep.”

  I didn’t like it, but Corey was right—walking through the city carrying our stuff with that many people out and about was asking for trouble. The closest thing we had to a weapon was Corey’s sharpened Cold Steel shovel; weapons weren’t allowed on campus. I had a full-tang knife in my locker at the animal shelter, and once I got my hands on that I could make a baton of sorts; it would be just as useful as the bats those vandals had been carrying earlier. More so, because I could sharpen the ends. But between us and the shelter, just over a mile away, were a few thousand people. It would be better to go tomorrow, when people would be less likely to commit a crime in broad daylight, and when hopefully most of them would be sleeping anyway. Damnit.

  “Okay. In that case, I’m going down to tell Mel,” I said. “You guys coming?”

  “Not yet,” Corey said, the green glow of his watch lighting his face as he checked the time. “I want to stay and watch these crowds.”

  “It’s still too hot down there for me,” Marco said. “I’ll keep these guys from falling off the roof and come down when it’s cooler.”

  “Suit yourself,” I said, and headed downstairs.

  By the time the guys came tiptoeing into the room a couple of hours later, Mel and I were already sound asleep on her bed.

  CHAPTER 14

  Sunday, September 2nd

  Snow Hill, Maryland

  Dotty and Pastor Bill sat on the swing on the Miller’s front porch, watching the lights in the sky. On the small table to her left, Dotty’s little kitchen timer ticked down next to her glass of sweet tea. It was still hot and muggy out, but with three burners going on the Miller’s gas range to keep her canners at pressure, it was cooler out on the porch than it was inside.

  Near the end of the street a generator was running, its noise a siren call to anyone sitting in the dark. Thomas had gotten the carburetor cleaned out on the Miller’s generator and they had run it for an hour yesterday to keep the chest freezer cold while Dan was out mowing his yard. Thomas was insistent that they should run it at least three times a day, but for some reason Dotty didn’t want the Riggs to know they had it. The lawn mower had masked the sound of the generator, but now in the quiet of the evening, there’d be no hiding it. They had wrapped the chest freezer in blankets to help insulate it and that seemed to be working just fine, so Dotty thought she might be able to get through the rest of the food in there before they even needed to power it up again. Her main problem was jars: she didn’t have enough. She’d have to look through the kids’ ICOE book and see if there were directions on other ways to preserve meat. Butchering the chickens today at Farmer John’s, as each one had reached the end of the processing line, it had been dropped into a big trough of salt brine. Keeping it in the brine and underwater kept it from spoiling any until the ladies could get to it and chop it up for canning. They’d butchered over 200 chickens, and Dotty ached all over. She and Thomas had promised to go back out in the morning and do it all over again, and she was planning on taking some ibuprofen with her this time.

  “It’ll be nice having you out at the farm tomorrow,” Dotty said.

  “I’m just thankful that John would let me come and work for some more food,” Bill said. “Even with all the chicken you brought me this evening, the pantry levels aren’t what they normally are.”

  “Did you have many people come by the pantry today?”

  Bill nodded. “More than what came to this morning’s service, although that’s not saying much. But it seemed to be at least twice that. Betty’s got the register, but I didn’t look at it.” Betty was the church pianist and the mother hen of the church’s kitchen. No one set foot in that kitchen without her say-so, and she kept track of every item in the kitchen and the pantry, right down to the levels of the spices they used to cook the dinners.

  “I was genuinely surprised at this morning’s service,” Dotty said. “I’ve never seen so many empty pews.”

  “Twenty people,” Bill said. He picked up his tea and took a sip. “And that’s twenty people, not twenty families.”

  Dotty clucked her tongue. “And no one at this evening’s service?”

  “Not a one,” Bill said. “First time that’s ever happened since I’ve been Pastor.”

  “Well you know it’s no reflection on you, Bill. The congregation loves you. It’s just this situation, I suppose.”

  Bill sighed, but said nothing. Then he smiled.

  “Maybe everyone just stayed home to sit on their porch swings and gaze at the heavenly artwork,” he said, gesturing to the sky.

  Dotty chuckled. “That could very well be.”

  They fell into silence again, and Bill looked over to see Dotty picking at a corner of the canvas carpenter’s apron that she always wore while cooking. He reached out and put his pale hand over hers.

  “What’s troubling you, Dot?”

  Dotty blew out a breath and turned her hand over, entwining her fingers in his. “It’s just the lyin’ this morning. To lie is bad enough, but to lie about the church is just…so much worse.”

  Pastor Bill squeezed her hand. “Dotty, you asked for forgiveness, and you were given the opportunity to make it right by working at John’s farm and bringing back food for the church. Don’t you see God’s hand in that?”

  Dotty looked up at the sky, her lips pursed in thought. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

  “Mysterious ways,” Bill said, giving her hand a squeeze.

  At the top of the porch steps, Jax lifted her head and growled low. Walking down each side of the street was a small group of people. Even with the sky lights making everything nearly as bright as a full moon, Dotty couldn’t make out who they were. She could see what they were doing, though. Each time they’d come to a rolling trash bin, one person would quietly flip open the large lid and leave it hanging behind the bin. Most houses had extra bags sitting next to the bins and recyclables tubs, and while the one person was opening the lid and leaning inside, another would be bending over the bags. Mondays were trash day, and being that Snow Hill contracted a private service to handle trash disposal, the trucks would still be running tomorrow even though it was a federal holiday. Everyone had dutifully rolled the big bins out to the curb at sunset.

  “What are they up to?” Dotty said, just loud enough that Bill could hear her.

  “I can’t tell yet,” Bill whispered, adjusting his glasses. “Going through the trash?”

  “They’re not stopping long enough to go through it,” Dotty whispered back.

  The group drew closer, and Jax sat up. Dotty could make them out better now. They seemed to be teenagers; three on each side of the road. Two boys, and one girl. The boys were messing with the trash, and the girls were walking behind them, holding up phones. Another minute, and both Dotty and Bill could hear snickers and hissed conversation passing between the two groups.

  They came up to Dotty’s trash bin, and she waited until the boy got it about halfway open before calling out.

  “You boys looking for something?”

  The lid dropped closed with a bang. A chorus of hissed curses burst from the group, and they scrambled across the road to join their partners.

  One kid from the other side of the road, a bit taller than the others, stood straight and put his hands on his hips.

  “Yeah, we’re looking for my dog,” he said. “How about you mind your own business, lady?” This brought another chorus of snickers.

  Dotty stood up and put one hand on the railing, the other pulling a flashlight out of her apron.

  “When you’re diggin’ in my trash it is my business,” sh
e said. Bill stood up and crossed over to Jax, putting a calming hand on the dog’s head.

  “Well it’s my dog, and I’ll look for him wherever the hell I want,” the kid said.

  Dotty turned on the flashlight and lit them all up. They recoiled, throwing hands over their faces.

  “Shut that fucking light off!” The lead kid yelled.

  “Well I’ll be,” Bill said. “Donny Wilhelm, is that you?”

  A kid that stood a head shorter than the group’s leader lowered his hand and looked towards the porch with an expression of horror.

  “Pastor Bill?” He said.

  “And Patricia Ball…I see you, too. Both of you live clear on the other side of town. What are you doing out here causing trouble? Why are you letting this boy lie for you?”

  Dotty heard the creak of her house’s screen door opening slowly. She looked over and saw Thomas creeping to the edge of her porch.

  “I ain’t lyin’!” The lead boy called out. “I’m on a public street, I’m lookin’ for my dog, and there ain’t a damn thing you can do about it, old man!”

  Donny tugged at the boy’s arm. “That’s my pastor, bro. Cool it!”

  “I don’t give a damn who he is. To me, he’s just a nosy old fuck that needs to mind his own business and shut the hell up before I walk up there and shut him up.”

  “You take one step towards that man and you’ll wish to God you hadn’t,” Thomas boomed.

  “Oh look, another one. Or what, bro? What you gonna do? Huh?” The boy threw out his arms and wiggled his fingers.

  The sound of a shotgun racking sent the rest of the kids scattering back the way they’d come. The leader put his arms down and glared in Thomas’ direction.

  “I’ll fill your ass full of birdshot,” Thomas said. “Should be easy enough to do, with your pants saggin’ down like that. Boxers ain’t much protection against lead.”

  “C’mon, Jack,” one of the girls called. “Let’s go before they call the cops!”