by AJ Powers
Clay wanted to believe that this big, happy family managed to safely stay together after the collapse, but experience told him that was just a fairytale. Even if they had all stayed together, he had yet to meet a single person in the last five years who hadn’t lost loved-ones since the ash smothered the earth…and his jaded sense of reality told him this family was no different, whether he wanted to accept it or not.
But he willingly chose to believe this family was the exception to the rule.
Clay was out of breath by the time he reached the top stair. He stepped into a small family room with a loveseat and a few beanbag chairs in front of a flat screen. Down a very small hall were three doors, each one opening to cramped bedrooms not much larger than the holding cells back at the FEMA camp. One room had a triple-stacked bunk bed along the wall and the other two had queen-sized accommodations. The third room—which was a little bigger than the others—was decorated with more photos documenting the happy family’s history.
His eyes immediately landed on the rifle safe on the far side of the room. It wasn’t anything heavy-duty—just a thin-gauged steel with a piano hinge—you could pick up at a department store for a hundred bucks. It was enough to keep inquisitive kids out of trouble or unmotivated thieves from a quick score, but it wasn’t good for much else. Clay didn’t liken himself to a thief, but he was motivated. And if he didn’t find the key lying around the cabin somewhere, he already had in mind a few alternative methods to crack the door.
He gingerly made his way back downstairs, grabbed his coat, and headed outside. The picturesque setting was even more impressive in daylight; it was truly a haven in every sense of the word. He walked around back and spotted a small toolshed about thirty feet behind the cabin. Right next to it was a large propane tank. He rapped on the side, hearing a loud, metal echo. He had no idea how much was left inside, or whether the lines running to the house were still in working order, but the prospect of a hot meal tonight made him feel like a million bucks.
After stripping the bark off a half-dozen logs, Clay carried them inside and positioned each one in front of the red-hot remnants in the fireplace. After preparing another ten logs, he needed something a little less physically taxing to pass the morning, so he decided it was a good time to investigate the contents of that pantry a little closer.
Until he heard Megan stirring.
He turned around to see his sister lifting the blanket, looking down at her body.
“Uhm, Clay,” she asked nonchalantly.
“Yes?”
“Why am I naked?”
Chapter 41
Megan stared blankly at the floor as Clay painfully recalled the events from the day before. At first, she thought he was joking—she didn’t remember any of that happening. But the grim look on her brother’s face assured her that this wasn’t just some twisted prank. She struggled to retrieve memories from her head that would corroborate Clay’s account, but she barely recalled walking into the woods with him. After that, it wasn’t even a blur; it was a black hole.
She felt like she should cry over the near-death experience, but she couldn’t. She should feel shaken, but she wasn’t. It just didn’t feel real to her, so why stress over it? Megan had enough things terrorizing her mind; she didn’t need the added angst from what felt like fiction.
Clay insisted she take it easy throughout the day, letting her in on his plan to crash at the cabin an extra day or two. Megan, rarely giving herself a break, told Clay the best thing to aid in her recovery was to be active. With no way of verifying her statement, Clay relented, trusting that Megan would listen to her body, and rest when she had hit her limit.
So, the siblings began to search the house more thoroughly than Clay’s initial walk-through. The squeal that came out of Megan’s mouth when Clay showed her the pantry could have shattered crystal. Having lived off stale crackers and extra gamey rabbit meat over the past week, the variety the pantry offered was nothing short of incredible.
After sorting through the food, and discarding more than half that was inedible, they still had more than they could carry back with them. Megan rummaged through the bathroom while Clay poked around the main living space. His mind kept drifting to what might be waiting inside the safe upstairs, but he was not quite yet up to the physical challenge of breaking the thing open. He was hopeful that he might get lucky and find the key hidden amongst the clutter, saving him time and energy.
Clay was encouraged with the various, useful items he found while searching the first floor. He started with a cardboard box he had noticed sitting on top of a coffee table in the corner, ORM-D stamped across the side. Inside he found several boxes of shotgun shells, both twelve and twenty gauge, in a variety of loads. Next to the box was a Rambo-sized hunting knife that was on the edge of ridiculous. But the blade was as sharp as any of his own knives, so it was a viable contender for bag space. As he expanded his search, he found a wide array of items from matches and fishhooks to an ancient break-barrel twenty gauge.
Clay had placed a few of his findings on the dinner table when Megan came out of the bathroom smiling. “I take it you had some luck in there?” Clay asked.
“Yep,” she replied as she dangled a plastic shopping bag between two fingers. She set the bag down on the table and opened it up, pulling items out one by one. “A premade first-aid kit, several boxes of bandages, tweezers, scissors, antiseptic, and…” Megan said, a huge grin on her face, “an unopened box of Celox!”
Clay looked at the box in her hand and tilted his head. “What is it?”
“Clots blood. Fast. Not a permanent fix, mind you, but it might stop someone from bleeding out before they can get to the infirmary.” Both knew that that was a problem several people had faced since the war began.
“Sweet!” Clay said enthusiastically. It sounded like a vital product for a field medic to have on hand; he just hoped he never had to test its effectiveness. “Anything else?”
“Nothing pertaining to my expertise so much, but I did find this—thought it might be of some use,” she said as she handed Clay a flare gun, still in the packaging.
“Nice!” Clay exclaimed. “Find any more flares?” he asked, looking down at the three that came with the gun.
Megan shook her head. “Sorry, that’s it.”
“Don’t be,” Clay said. “It’s still a good find.”
Megan looked down at the table of goodies Clay had found. “I see you’ve had a productive morning as well,” she said, a genuine enthusiasm filled her voice. “What’s all this about?” She motioned to the separated piles on the table.
“Everything on that half of the table is the ‘must go’ pile,” Clay said, gesturing to his left. “Stuff on this side of the table,” he looked to his right, “is TBD. We can cherry pick after we see how much space we have left in our bags.”
Megan bit her lip as she nodded along. “Okay, that sounds good. Speaking of bags, where’s mine?”
Clay tilted his head toward the front door. “I tossed it somewhere over by the door,” he said as he contemplated moving a few items from the “maybe” pile to the “must go.”
Megan walked over to the front door and quickly found her pack. She crouched down next to it and unzipped the main compartment.
“Shoot!” she said under her breath as she looked inside. “Everything is soaking wet, Clay.”
Before Clay could respond with a sarcastic comment about the little-known fact that water is wet, he remembered some of the items in Megan’s pack. “Are the pills...?”
Megan pulled out the baggie and held it up. The mixture of pressed capsules and gel caps made for a chunky, colorful paste.
“Crap!”
“I did manage to make use of the empty space in that prescription bottle you found in the desk,” she said as she popped the lid off the orange, plastic container and looked inside, “Well, except for the top couple of pills, everything in here looks okay, but…” Megan gave off a remorseful sigh as she moved her eyes b
ack to the ruined bag of pills, “that’s a whole lot of pain people are going to have to feel now.”
Clay scratched at his itchy scruff as he shook his head. “There’s absolutely nothing you could have done, Megan. In fact, you were thinking ahead by filling up the prescription bottle. So, with that plus what we still have back at the bunker, we’re still in a whole lot better shape than we were before we left.”
Megan shrugged. “Yeah, I know. It just sucks—these pills could have made a big difference in somebody’s life.”
Megan’s frustration only grew as she dug deeper into the bag, discovering that bandages and various other items were now ruined. By the end, she had a small pile of wet, useless junk next to her feet. With an irritated groan, Megan picked herself up off the floor and walked back over to Clay at the table, placing the remaining contents of her pack onto the table before continuing to search the rest of the cabin.
By the time lunch had rolled around, there was no space between the two piles on the dinner table—and that didn’t include the food in the pantry or a thorough sweep upstairs. As Clay surveyed their findings, even with the two additional duffel bags they had brought, there was no way it was all going to fit. It was a good problem to have, but a problem nonetheless. Weight was just as much of a factor as size. Clay’s backpack was already pushing forty pounds, not to mention his chest rig. He guessed the duffel bag would easily double his pack with all the things he wanted to bring—if he could even cram them all into the bag.
The realization that they would likely be taking back less than he initially thought irked him. But this wasn’t a movie, and he wasn’t some buffed out action hero. Both Clay and Megan were, medically speaking, malnourished. They were also exhausted, having managed to find a way to burn the candle at three ends. There was no way to know what was in store for them on their return trip, and strapping more than 150 pounds to his back was not realistic. It was time to whittle down the “must go” pile even further.
Underestimating the hypothermal thrashing she took the previous night, Megan’s body grew tired much quicker than she expected. Clay suggested she go up to the loft and take a nap in the far bedroom—she put up very little fight.
As soon as the bedroom door shut, Clay began to comb over the areas Megan had already been through—just to be sure. He was pleased and disappointed with his efforts. Pleased that Megan had done such a thorough job, disappointed there was nothing new to find.
Evening came fast, catching Clay by surprise when he noticed the muted sky start to fade. A ferocious growl echoed in his stomach, a not-so-subtle reminder that he had skipped breakfast and lunch. Again. And with the overabundance of food at his disposal, there was no excuse to be doing that while they stayed at the cabin.
With Megan still conked out in the master suite, Clay decided it was time to see if the propane tank out back had any fuel left. He grabbed a couple of cans from the pantry and then a couple of smaller pots next to the sink. Giving the oven knob a sharp twist, the igniter clicked persistently, but the burner wouldn’t light.
He turned the knob off, wondering if it was out of propane or if the line coming into the cabin had been damaged until the putrid smell hit his nose. The propane was flowing, the igniter, however, was not functioning. Clay fetched his lighter from his bag and waited a few minutes to let the excess propane dissipate. Cranking the knob once again, he opened his lighter and flicked the flint wheel.
Success!
Dumping each can of food into a separate pot and letting them come to a simmer over the stove top, Clay found himself bouncing up and down on his toes, eagerly waiting for them to reach the optimal temperature. Dinner’s aroma slowly drifted around the cabin, eventually enticing Megan to get out of bed.
“I don’t know what you’re up to down there, Cheffy-Boy, but that smells amazing,” she said as she walked down the stairs.
“Go have a seat in the living room, it’ll be ready in a few minutes,” Clay replied.
Megan slowly finished the descent before heading over to the living room. She pulled down the clothes she had hung to dry on a stretch of paracord and placed them on the couch before plopping down on the opposite side. “I don’t think I’ve ever been to a bed and breakfast before.”
“Well, more like a bed and dinner,” Clay said as he grabbed a ladle from a ceramic pot next to the sink and portioned out their dinner.
“Well, whatever you want to call it, it’s food and it’s hot, so I’ll take it.”
Clay came out of the kitchen holding a plate in each hand. “I slaved over that stove for like, five whole minutes preparing this meal, so you better like it.”
Megan chuckled from her excitement. She licked her lips as Clay passed her the plate. Her eyes grew as wide as her smile when she looked down at the plate. “Refried beans and corn!” she said with nostalgic joy. “You remembered my favorite!”
“Sorry, I didn’t see any rice.”
In their previous life, when being choosy over your food wasn’t going to mean starvation, Megan had become a vegetarian. For years, the family had made it a Friday night tradition to have dinner at Chuy’s. Megan had become so obsessed with the chicken fajitas that the servers stopped asking what she wanted to order. But, the Friday before her fifteenth birthday, she ordered a bowl of rice and corn with a side of refried beans, and never had a fajita again. So, when Clay opened the cabinet that morning, and saw those two cans sitting right in front of his face, he knew what he’d make for dinner.
Megan grabbed the fork out of Clay’s hand and immediately dug in. A lengthy “Mmmm” immediately followed. “Oh, sweet mother, this is heavenly.”
Clay walked over to the recliner and sat down before shoveling in more food than his mouth could fit. “So,” he said, several kernels of corn spilling from his mouth, “what made you decide to stop eating meat.”
Megan laughed through a chew. She shook her head with a smile before taking another bite. “Alex Charters,” she said before taking a sip of water.
“I knew it was a guy!”
“Yep. Alex Charters. He was a grade ahead of me and I had the biggest crush on him.”
“Why didn’t you ever mentioned him to us?” Clay asked, continuing to throw dinner etiquette to the dogs as food shot out of his mouth with his question.
“Well, let’s see, he was a vegan, and…yep, that alone would have bugged the daylights out of Dad.”
Clay laughed. “Yeah, Dad was not exactly subtle when it came to his thoughts on men refusing to eat meat.”
“Nope,” Megan said with a full mouth. She gulped down her big bite before adding, “And what he would or wouldn’t eat was just the beginning.”
“Wait a second,” Clay said, his eyes looking up toward the ceiling as he recalled a distant memory. “I can’t believe I remember this, but is he the guy that kept posting all that political crap on your Facebook wall?”
Megan nodded. “Yeah, that was him.”
Clay let out a deep laugh from his stomach. “Yeah, Dad would have had that dude hanging upside down from the big oak tree in our front yard if he ever came to take you out.”
“And that’s why I never brought him up,” Megan said with a smile. “Actually, though, once I spent a little bit of time with him and stopped idolizing him from afar, he turned out to be a pretty big jerk. But by then, I had gotten used to eating rabbit food, so,” she said as she took the last bite on her plate, “I just kept at it.”
With their stomachs full and a roaring fire, the two reminisced for a while, mostly talking about the pre-eruption days. Clay couldn’t remember the last time he felt so relaxed. After everything they had been through the past couple of months, it was nice to be able to sit down and just talk to his sister again—like he used to back in the tower.
As the conversations died down, Megan began to shift uncomfortably in her seat.
“You okay?”
“Yeah…no…sort of, I guess.”
“Wow, that wasn’t vague or anyth
ing. What’s going on, Megs?”
Megan twirled her hair around her finger as she tried to convince herself that she didn’t have the energy for the conversation about to happen. “I really don’t know how to say this, so I’m just gonna say it.”
Clay gave her a funny look. “Uh oh, should I be scared?” he joked.
“I’m worried about you.”
“Worried?”
Megan took a deep breath as she tried to keep her composure. “Ever since Mom died, and you stepped up to the plate to fill Dad’s role, I’ve always labeled you as my ‘big little brother’. Yes, you are younger than me, but I still look up to you. I still remember just how impressed I was with how you handled every situation thrown our way. After Michelle died, I thought you were going to finally lose it. And then there was Charlie and then we had to pick up and leave the tower…I thought for sure that eventually it would all catch up to you, but it never did. Whenever you got knocked down, you stood right back up, standing taller than before, and carried on. And no matter what, you followed a moral compass even when nobody else bothered to. You did not allow yourself to become a product of your situation.”
The tears in Megan’s eyes quickly built up and started to fall down her face. She sniffled a few times before continuing. “But after watching you kill those men outside the camp…you’re not the brother I looked up to...”