States of War

by Kevin Partner

  He double checked the bedrooms, but there was no sign that anything horrific had happened here. The king size bed in the main bedroom had what looked like fresh linen, but it was when he went into the smaller room that the river of grief that had been flowing beneath the surface broke its banks. The decorations in pumpkin's room hadn't been changed at all since he'd last been here, the walls still painted the lurid pink she adored, but it had long ago been turned into storage. The tears fell again as he remembered her and the loss that had been the catalyst for everything that had happened since. For a moment he stood there wondering whether that tragedy had somehow prepared him for the global catastrophe of the Long Night. Maybe because he'd stopped caring much about himself and others, he'd survived better than most.

  He moved silently into the living room and looked out at the car and the girl who sat impatiently waiting for him. Yeah, he'd stopped caring. Until now.

  "I like this place," Luna said as she returned from the bathroom. Tucker had taken a jug from the kitchen and filled the toilet tank with water from the pond so she could use it. "Where will Dany and I sleep?"

  "You can have the big bedroom. I'll sleep on the couch."

  "Really? You don't mind?"

  "Knock yourself out."

  "Can I go play in the yard?"

  "Not yet. I've got a job to do out there, then I'll make us somethin' to eat. We can go for a walk then, if you want."

  "Oh good. I think Dany needs a long walk. She went to the bathroom on your lawn. Sorry."

  "It ain't my lawn no longer, kid, so don't worry," he said. He found a shovel, a black bag, and a pair of thick work gloves in the garage and headed into the back garden.

  The remains were those of a man called Chester Biggs, according to the driver's license in his wallet. The picture showed a rotund man in his thirties. A decent man who'd done the right thing by the previous occupants of the house and had then died in the garden. But what had killed him? It was impossible to tell. It must have happened fairly soon after the Long Night because his body was badly decomposed, despite the cold weather. And much of it was missing.

  He dug a hole alongside the other graves at the bottom of the garden. It was neither six feet long nor six feet deep, and yet it took him most of the morning to cut into the frozen turf, pausing only to shout at Luna when she called him from the back door. When it was done, he gritted his teeth and slid the shovel under the remains and slid the black bag's opening underneath. A foul smell leaped from the remains as he disturbed them, and he was forced to hold his breath as he got them inside the bag and sealed it.

  He dragged the bag across the grass and into the hole before filling it. The other markers had been made from pieces of fencing, so he went back into the garage, found some spare bits of wood and a permanent marker.

  "What are you doing out there?" Luna asked as he reappeared in the house, the cross under his arm.

  He sighed. "Well, you might as well see, because you're gonna find out soon enough. Follow me."

  They stood beside the four graves. "I don't want to stay here no longer, Marvin."

  He put his arm around her. "You'll get used to it. It's safe here, and quiet. We can rest awhile."

  "I want to follow Mommy," Luna said. "To New York."

  All the pent up emotion swilling around inside Tucker exploded at that. "We are not going to New York! Don't you understand? It's thousands of miles away. And your mommy ain't goin' there neither! Now drop it!"

  She ran, but his rage would not subside for him to do what he knew he must. Thirty minutes he stood by the graveside and only then did a sudden panic wash away his anger. He ran into the house.

  "Luna, are you here?"

  There was no answer.

  His heart raced as he ran first into the living room and then into the main bedroom. She wasn't there, and she wasn't in the bathroom either.

  He was about to run into the street when, in desperation, he looked in the smallest room. There, against the far wall, lay Luna, curled up asleep on the floor, cuddling her dog.

  "I'm sorry," he said as they sat eating fried eggs and hotdogs at the kitchen table.

  "I know. You've said it enough now. I believe you."

  "It's been tough coming back here. But I've lost so much, kid, I don't reckon I could handle losing you too."

  "You've looked after me really well, even though I know you didn't want to."

  Tucker smiled at her. "Maybe not at first, but you've grown on me."

  "And Dany?"

  "And Dany. She saved us in the park, didn't she?"

  "She's a good dog," Luna said as she finished her last wiener.

  Tucker took his final sausage and gave half to the dog who'd been sitting in the patiently impatient way of her species. She swallowed it down in one and then resumed her position, in hopes of another. "All gone, girl. But at least I gave you some." He gave a sly look at Luna.

  "I'm a growing girl," she said. "And I knew you'd give her some of yours."

  "Come on, then. Nearly time for bed," he said as he watched her downing a mug of hot chocolate.

  He was ripped from a peaceful sleep by the sound of a dog barking outside. Had he been dreaming? No, there it was again.

  He awoke in an instant and jumped to his feet as adrenaline surged through his body. "Luna!" he called, running into the main bedroom, flashlight in hand. She was gone. He ran his hand beneath the sheets—they were still warm, so it had only just happened. Something rustled on the blankets—a note.

  Dear Marvin. Thank you for looking after me. You are a very nice man. I am going to New York. Dany is coming with me, so I will be okay.

  Lots of love,

  Luna

  Marvin threw the note down, grabbed his handgun from beside the couch, and stepped into his boots, not bothering to tie the laces.

  As he ran down the garden path, he heard Dany barking again and tried desperately to work out which direction the sound was coming from. Mercifully, an ebbing moon was high in the sky, so he was able to run quickly along the once familiar roads, praying as he went that he wasn't too late. He couldn't imagine what was happening, but Dany was obviously distressed and that could only be bad for Luna.

  His flashlight bobbed from left to right as he panted. They couldn't be far away now, and he slowed a little. If Luna was being threatened, he wanted to be able to sneak up on her attackers rather than going in all guns blazing.

  He rounded a corner and stopped. He could see the dog barking at something out of sight behind a house. There was Luna, standing behind her, trying to haul on her lead. And just then, as he watched, a dark shape leaped out of the shadows and fell upon Dany.

  Tucker sprinted along the road. He was no Usain Bolt, but he put every last ounce of energy into closing the gap as fast as humanly possible. Dany and her attacker were a single ball of fury that convulsed back and forth as each tried to gain the upper hand. And, to his horror, he saw a second shape creep around the fighters and approach Luna who shrank away.

  It was a cat. A big cat. It could even have been a lioness. But there was no time to think, no time for subtlety. He reached them just as the creature looked ready to pounce. It and Luna turned at the same moment and Tucker's boot caught it square in the jaw before it went flying along the road. The cat gave out a yell and jerked backwards as Tucker pushed Luna behind him and emptied two rounds into its head.

  Dany squealed. She was pinned beneath the other cat and Tucker couldn't get a clear shot, so he wound his arm around its neck and yanked its bloody jaws backwards before, with his other hand, he pushed the gun under its chin and pulled the trigger.

  His ears rang as Luna ran to Dany's side. The dog had gashes on her chest, but the worst wound was the bite mark on her shoulder from which blood was flowing.

  "Help her, Marvin!" Luna cried. "Oh, this is all my fault. Please, please help her."

  Dany looked like a hopeless case to him, but he was determined to try, so he pulled his sweater over his head, rem
oved his T-shirt and then ripped it into a makeshift bandage. The dog whined in pain, and then bared her teeth when he pressed the cotton against her wound.

  "It's okay Dany, we're going to help you."

  Tucker sat back on his haunches and tried to catch his breath before running his hands under the dog and lifting her up.

  "Boy, she's heavy. I think you've been feeding her too much of your rations, kid. But come on, there might be other animals on the loose. We need to get back quick."

  They saw no other signs of life as Tucker carried the dog back. Luna was silent aside from the occasional sob, but they made it back without incident. He put Dany down on the bed and stood up, rubbing his back.

  "Will she be alright?" Luna said, stroking the dog's head.

  "I dunno. I'll do my best if you promise never to run out on me again. You could both be dead now, you know."

  "I promise," Luna said, quietly. "As long as you take me to find my mom. In New York."

  Tucker's shoulders sagged as he finally realized the true depth of the trouble he was now in. Truth was, he didn't want to stay here anymore, especially now that they'd discovered why people didn't live in the neighborhood. He hadn't thought about the private zoo a few blocks away. Some fool must have released the animals so they wouldn't starve to death. Well, that part of the plan had worked perfectly.

  And, anyway, this house held so many memories it was suffocating him. To stay would be to live in a departed past until, inevitably, he'd either have to move on or blow his own brains out.

  "Okay kid, you got a deal. Once she's fixed up, I'll take you to find your mom."

  Chapter 18

  The gas station at Breezewood was a smoking ruin, and there was no sign of the little community led by Hanna. Solly had been banking on picking up some fuel for the last stage of the return journey to the farmhouse, but it was obvious he wouldn't find it here.

  "I wonder what happened," Ross said as they parked up beside the station. The pumps were covered with soot and shriveled plastic signs lay on the floor, bearing testament to the inferno that had destroyed the place.

  Solly felt his mood darken. Just three weeks ago, this had been a functioning community under a firm leader, and now it was just as dead as most of the other settlements they'd passed through on their journey. They had seen a lot more people on the roads since they went west, some in vehicles, many on foot, and the story was almost always the same—they were heading for D.C. Somehow, the call had spread far and wide and the remnants of the American people were gathering around their national capital, like battle weary soldiers mounting a last stand around their flag.

  He understood their compulsion to head east. Everything they'd known, everything they'd believed inviolable, had been destroyed in those first hours. The survivors had been left to scramble around in the ashes of their former lives, existing rather than living, in the hope that things would one day improve. And then the rumors of a government reestablishing itself in D.C. had spread from east to west. Finally they had a purpose and people emerged from their hiding places and joined the great migration.

  Solly felt the pull, and he could easily have been among their number except that he had somewhere to go, though this overwhelming desire to return to the farmhouse came laced with guilt. He should be heading south, looking for Bella and the kids. He would be heading south to find the tiniest pin in the most enormous haystack. But, right now, the farmhouse was calling him. As they pulled away from the ruined gas station, he saw Janice in his mind's eye and felt the familiar fear rise in his heart. What if the farmhouse had suffered the same fate as the gas station at Breezewood? And even if it hadn't, what if her feelings for him had died away?

  Every night since he'd left, Solly had thought about her before going to sleep. He wasn't religious, so he rarely prayed, but he had a habit of thinking about everyone he cared about and saying their names in the privacy of his own mind. A bit like Arya Stark in reverse.

  "So, that leaves us with a problem," Solly said. "I was counting on refueling at Breezewood. We don't have nearly enough to get us home."

  Ross gestured at the cars on the intersection. They'd been moved to the side to funnel traffic into a single lane. "None of these will have gas in them," he said. "Maybe we'll find some a bit farther out. Why not take the back roads?"

  "That's a good idea, though we're likely to have to do some walking unless we strike lucky."

  "Jeez, I hope we don't have to walk. I want to get back, see what they've been doing while we've been away. I hope they're okay."

  "Me too, son. Me too."

  They parked the pickup on a little road outside the small community of Needmore, PA. It was running on fumes by that point and Solly wanted to hide it so they could return to it if they found fuel or after reaching the farmhouse.

  It was a brisk morning, so they wrapped up warm, and the two of them tramped along the main road like a pair of steam trains. They'd not seen a soul since they'd come off the highway, though the roads were clear of abandoned cars, so someone had survived. They'd probably moved on, Solly thought. The little town couldn’t have had more than 200 souls before the Long Night and, perhaps, only a dozen after it, so the survivors would naturally try to find a larger community to join.

  "How far are we from home?" Ross asked.

  Solly pulled the route map from his inside pocket. "We're here," he said, pointing a gloved finger, "and the farmhouse is here. I guess it's around fifty miles."

  "We won't get there today, then."

  "Not if we have to walk the whole way, no. I'm hoping we'll come across a car sooner or later."

  "I haven't seen many, and those I have I don't want to ride in."

  Solly slapped him on the shoulders. "I know; me neither. We'd best assume we're walking and hope for a bit of luck. But cheer up, we'll be back by tomorrow at the latest.

  They trudged on, Solly consulting the map from time to time, and took the 655 heading south. In other circumstances, it would have been a pleasant walk along a quiet, tree lined road, but they were both exhausted and the cold was beginning to seep into their limbs. The hardest thing to bear, however, was the anticipation. They were so close, and yet the miles crept by as they walked.

  The living things they saw most often were the birds who inhabited the bare trees on either side of them. The silence was punctuated from time to time by the harsh cawing of crows, while smaller birds chirruped from the bushes beneath.

  After three hours, Solly called a halt. "Let's take a look up there," he said, pointing to a two-story farmhouse set on a slope overlooking the road. "We can get out of this wind for a bit."

  They walked up the hill to find a neat white house with a yellow-painted upper floor above a brick faced lower story. Set into the bricks was a garage door. "D'you reckon there might be a car inside?"

  "It's got to be worth a look," Solly said. "There's no sign of anyone living here," he added, gesturing at the piles of decaying leaves that had been deposited against the wall by the wind.

  The main entrance was on the upper floor, so Solly walked up the steps to take a look in the windows. The bodies would probably be in the living room or the bedroom, so he made his way around the balcony to peer in.

  He was just pressing his face against a full-length window when he suddenly saw a figure of what looked like an old woman sitting in an easy chair. "You get outta my house, d'you hear me? I said get outta my house! My husband'll be back soon."

  Solly lurched to one side as he caught the flash of a reflection off the barrel of a rifle or shotgun.

  He ran back to the steps, expecting the woman to burst out of the front door, gun in hand, but nothing happened. He told Ross to wait at the base of the steps and crept back up. Something about this didn't add up at all and, despite himself, he had to solve the mystery.

  Solly sneaked silently along the balcony again, keeping below the level of the windows, until he reached the one he'd seen the woman behind.

  "I can hear
you!” She called out. "I ain't that deaf. Now this is your last warning. If you don't hightail it outta here, I'm gonna fill your butt with buckshot."

  Solly laid down on his side so he could catch a glimpse from beneath the net curtain. Yes, it was an old woman. She was dressed in a thick quilted coat, but the chair she sat on was covered in filth and dark stains. Around the chair lay discarded food wrappers, tubes and cans. And she looked so frail that he doubted she could move more than a few paces at a time.

  He got up, looked out over a countryside that was gorgeous and full of life even in winter, and sighed. He couldn't leave her like this. He wished he could, but she would haunt his dreams if he walked away now.

  He went back to the front door and quietly turned the handle. To his surprise, it opened. Solly stepped back, crying out in disgust as an overwhelming stench erupted from inside.

  "Get outta my house!" she called. But she didn't appear as he braved the inside.

  Solly left the door open to allow a little air inside and crept along the hallway. It was an open plan design, with a large and airy kitchen leading seamlessly into the living room. There sat the old woman, her chair facing the window, the shotgun facing him.

  He threw himself sideways as the gun erupted, causing the glass in the kitchen cabinets to explode.

  To his horror, he heard Ross running up the steps and into the house. "Solly!" he called.

  "Get back!"

  But it was too late, Ross ran into plain view of the woman as she twisted round in her chair.

  "Who are you?" she called as Ross stood, his hands thrust instinctively into the air. "Wait. Is it Monroe? Have you come home, my boy?"

  Ross looked down at Solly, who was frantically nodding.

  "Yes," he said. "It's me. Monroe."

  "Be careful! There's a thief in the house."

  "He's no thief, he's a friend of mine."