by J. R. Tate
If it wasn’t for his watch, he’d have no idea what time of day it was. It was cloudy and dark most of the time, and he hadn’t seen the stars for days. The only time he saw the sun was when the cap had burned off and allowed the dry line to retreat, triggering the storms that left them in the apocalyptic aftermath.
Yawning, he decided to call it a night. It was a little after eight and he was hungry, tired, and he had to come up with a plan on what they needed to do next.
Sliding the branches and wood inside the cellar, he secured the metal door, tying it back to the metal pipe that had held securely during the last bout of weather. Applying a can of propane to a lantern, it brightened their cave enough for him to pull out a few options for their dinner.
He took out a can of tamales and opened them, thankful most canned goods had the tab on them now. He had a pocket knife if he needed it, but it was much more convenient to pull the lid off. Scooping it into a camp saucepan, he lit the stove and watched them heat up, his mind racing in several different directions.
Ty lifted his head off of the lawn chair, his eyes half way open. “What are you making?”
“Tamales. Want some?”
“I’m thirsty.”
Ryan handed him a bottle of water. “Are you hurting any?”
Ty nodded and took a few sips. “My arm and my head hurt.”
“In about an hour you can take a Tylenol. Think you can make it until then?” Ryan glanced down at his watch. An hour was an eternity when someone was in pain, but he couldn’t risk hurting Ty even more by giving him too much medicine.
Ty set the water on the floor and closed his eyes. “I don’t feel good...” he whimpered and a few tears escaped his eyelids, trailing down his cheeks, leaving lines in the dirt that was caked on his skin. They hadn’t cleaned up in several days and it was showing.
Ryan kissed him on the forehead. “I know, Bud. I’m working on it, I promise.”
Scooping the tamales onto a paper plate, he sat on the floor close to Ty and offered him a bite, which surprisingly, he took, scarfing down the processed junk food. Ryan laughed. Just days before he was cringing at the thought of eating something so atrocious, and here they were, gobbling it up like it was gourmet food.
The tamales made him think of Cecilia. He had to tell himself she was somewhere safe with ample food supply, or he’d panic and make a bad decision. Offering the last bite to Ty, he tossed the paper plate in a trash bag and gulped some water.
“You ready to get some sleep?” Ryan adjusted Ty’s blankets and ruffled his hair. “I bet you’re loving not having to brush your teeth.”
“Or take a bath,” Ty replied, smiling.
“Yeah, we’re starting to stink up the place, aren’t we?” Ryan laughed and ran his tongue over his teeth, longing for some toothpaste. “I guess we can pretend we are out camping at Fox Lake like we did last summer. You caught so many fish. You beat your old man!”
Ty smiled again and lifted his head. “Will we get to go back to the lake soon?”
“I’ll make sure we do, Ty. As soon as we get you well again, we’ll go as much as you want.” Ryan looked away, wiping another tear from his cheek. If they ran out of food, he’d have to go to the river to try and catch some fish. At least it was an option if it came down to that. “I’m going to shut this lantern off so we can sleep. If you need anything at all, son, I’m right here beside you.”
“Okay, Daddy. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
He checked the rope that secured the door to make sure the knot was tight and slid onto his lawn chair, clasping his hands behind his head. He stared up into the darkness, smelling the damp walls around them, attempting to process everything. There was no way to get his mind to shut down for a second. Tomorrow would be another day of hoping someone would find them.
Exhaustion won the battle and he felt his body doze off, drifting into a dream-like state that took him away from the wasteland that was now home.
Ryan woke up to Ty screaming. Falling off of the lawn chair, he reached for a flashlight, unable to find it right off. The child’s voice echoed off of the walls and when he yelled Cecilia’s name, there was an obvious tone of desperation and panic in his words.
“Mommy! Mommy!”
Clicking the light on, Ryan grabbed Ty’s hand, holding it as he finally woke up. Confused about where he was, he cringed when he lifted his injured arm.
“Lay still, Ty. Don’t hurt yourself. It’s me. I’m here.”
“Where am I? Where’s my room? Where’s my house?” His voice got louder with each question.
“I think you’re dreaming, Ty. I’m right here.” Ryan unscrewed the water bottle from supper and helped him take a drink. “Are you okay, Ty?”
“I want to go home.”
His complaints were coming more often, and Ryan couldn’t blame him. He had been lying flat on his back for the duration of their exile from normal life, and he was getting antsy. The kid normally bounced off the walls with endless energy, so this was a whole new world for both of them.
“I do too. Something good is going to happen today. I know it will.”
Ryan checked his watch. It was six AM, which was alarming. He had slept almost ten hours, which had been unheard of. He must have needed it, and he probably could have slept more, but there was no time to waste.
“You want some more oatmeal?”
Ryan fired up the lantern and took inventory of their food. There were a few packets of instant oatmeal left. It was about the only thing Ty asked for, and they’d be out in a few days. There was still plenty of peanut butter and instant coffee, and the Vienna sausages and Spam were in good shape. Canned peaches and pears would also be a good breakfast, and it was something Ty liked.
“I’m not hungry. I don’t wanna eat.” Ty’s voice was whiny and he continued to cry.
“It’ll make you feel better.”
“No!”
At least Ty had the energy to fight. Instead of dipping into their food, Ryan made a cup of instant coffee and hoped it’d be enough to hold him over until later. Unfastening the knot, he opened the metal door above them.
“I’m going back up there to get some more work done. Please call up if you need me. I’ll be back down soon.”
“Why can’t I go up there?” Ty pointed with his uninjured arm.
“That’s what I’m working on, kiddo. There aren’t any stairs for you to walk up, and I can’t carry you up with the rope I’ve been climbing with. I’ll drop you and you’ll get hurt even worse.”
“Is it going to rain again today?”
“I hope not.”
Ryan went to ground level and it was still dark out. No stars escaped from the clouds and there was no sign of the moon. The sun normally came up around seven, but the overcast sky would hinder the light from coming through. Gathering his supplies, he ventured a little farther out, hoping he’d find something useful, but came up empty. He debated on turning on his phone. Each time it powered on, it drained the battery, and since it had been off the charger for a while now, it was definitely coming down to only having it on if he was certain it’d work.
Staring down at the blank screen, he wished Cecilia’s number would flash on it and she’d be on the other end, confirming she was okay. Gripping it in his palm, he closed his eyes and cursed out loud, hoping the universe would hear his frustrations and finally work in his favor.
“Ryan!”
He heard the distant voice, a familiar voice, and opened his eyes. It was too dark to see who it was, but a man was hurrying down the driveway. Squinting, he tried to see who it was, but it was too dark.
“Ryan!” The man waved, and by his walk, he was even more familiar.
“Dad?” Was it him? Stepping in his direction, he broke out into a run, meeting him halfway between the foundation of the house and the cellar. “Dad, how in the hell?” he cut himself off.
“I started walking and didn’t stop until I got here.”
&
nbsp; “Are you okay?” Ryan motioned toward the cellar. “I’ve got some water and food. It’s not much, but it’ll tide you over until someone comes.”
Darryl looked down at the ground and shook his head. “Are you alone? Where’s Ty? Where’s Cecilia?”
Ryan ducked his head and took a deep breath. The question felt like a wall of bricks toppling over him. “Ty is down in the cellar. He’s hurt, dad. His arm is in bad shape and he’s got a head injury. I’ve done the best I could… but, we need someone. We need a hospital.” He raked his hands through his sweaty hair. “And Cecilia is missing. I...” Ryan bit his lip to control the emotions. “She went to town the night the first big one came through. I haven’t heard or seen her since.”
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Ryan, but no one is coming.”
“What? How do you know that?”
“It’s like we are the only ones left. It’s no man’s land out there. I never thought a tornadic system would have that kind of power, but from what I’ve seen, we are dealing with something massive that no one has ever experienced before. Between my place and yours, I only ran across two other people. And they weren’t good people.”
“What do you mean?”
“Looters. They killed my neighbors just to get their food supply. We have to be careful. They could be coming this way.”
Ryan closed his eyes and hoped that he would wake up from this bad dream, but the harsh reality stared him in the face. “There were a couple of guys that came through here a few days ago, but I was able to chase them off. I didn’t think it was that bad, just that emergency services were spread thin so we’d have to be patient and wait until they got to us. Surely somebody has figured out what is going on and they are sending help.”
Darryl stepped toward the cellar. “I wouldn’t bet on it. With cell phones down, there’s no way to call. And if cell phones are down, other means of communication are as well. No internet either. We don’t even know how much ground these storms covered. With the damage I witnessed on the way over, we can’t rule anything out, Ryan. Miles and miles of destruction and death. It could’ve easily stayed organized enough to go right on into Oklahoma and Kansas, and even other parts of Texas.”
“I understand how FEMA and Red Cross can’t get in due to the damage, but can’t they fly in?” Ryan looked up at the sky. He was afraid of what he might see – the dark clouds threatened them with rain.
“Probably can’t get through with the unstable atmosphere. And with all signals down, it’s too iffy to fly anyway.”
“I wish I could get some news or something. It’s like we’ve been forgotten.”
“We’ve either been forgotten or we are the last few left to survive. I’d say we were lucky, but I bet that food supply you talked about isn’t enough to hold you over much longer, is it?”
Ryan shook his head. “No. A few more days. Maybe a week. I’m eating really small portions so Ty can have more to keep his strength up, but he has lost his appetite. I was hoping someone would be here by now. It never crossed my mind that no one would come or that this weather system had the capability of killing off everyone from here to Canada. I still don’t think it did.” Ryan piled up a few more branches, his plans of using them seeming ridiculous at the moment. Looking back at his dad, he grit his teeth. “You really think that whatever this is has cut us off from the rest of the world, indefinitely?”
Darryl stared off toward the mountains and took a second to answer. “That’s best case scenario. But honestly, I think we’re dealing with something unfathomable and unprecedented. If it was normal, the National Weather Service would have been on top of it and we wouldn’t be in this situation. Best case scenario is that they’re working on getting to us, but since I’m being honest, I’ll say this much – it’s gonna get a hell of a lot worse before it gets better.”
Chapter Ten
Ryan sat in a lawn chair across from his dad and Ty. He was good with his grandson, and it seemed to lift up the child’s spirits when he saw his grandfather shimmy down the side of the cellar. Ryan couldn’t get his mind to slow down. His father had never acted crazy before. It took a lot to get him riled up. Hearing him talk like he had about the storms was probably credible, but Ryan had to keep hope that someone out there was working to get to them.
He finished off a can of potted meat and tossed the metal can in a trash bag. He was stockpiling what he could, viewing the world from a hoarder’s perspective, thinking he could use everything some way. The lid could be used as a knife if he could maneuver it enough to make a blade.
Now that his father was there, they’d go through their supplies quicker. He hadn’t eaten much and made sure Ty had what he needed, but Ryan couldn’t deny the man food. Sifting through the bags, he wished he had bought more that day at the grocery store, but who would have made plans to be stranded for an undetermined amount of time? Preparing for a few nights was one thing, but issues after tornadoes were resolved quicker than this in normal circumstances.
Kneeling beside Ty, he handed him some water. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m hurting. Grandpa looked at my arm.”
“Yeah? And what did he say?” Ryan looked up at Darryl and back to his son.
“I just said that we need to clean it up again.” Darryl stood up and motioned Ryan away from Ty, his brow creased in worry. “It’s infected, Ryan. And his eyes...” Darryl glanced at Ty. “His pupils aren’t dilating.”
“How am I supposed to keep him from sleeping? What do you think we need to do?”
“He’s resting and that is good. His arm concerns me. How in the hell did it happen?”
Ryan didn’t like Darryl’s accusatory tone, but it wasn’t the time or place to argue with him. “I’m not sure. We got down in the cellar and after it was all said and done, he, you know… I already feel guilty enough. I’ve debated with what I should do. Do we leave the cellar and risk being out there when another storm comes? Do we abandon our food and water? And I sure as hell wasn’t going to leave him alone!” Ryan’s voice raised and echoed.
“I know, Ryan. It’s a tough spot to be in, and I wish I could tell you what to do.”
“And Cecilia… Son of a bitch! We’re in the twenty-first century. How in the hell can something like this happen?” Ryan had been on the verge of losing his cool for a few days, and suddenly, in front of his dad, the walls came tumbling down, exposing his worries. “How can someone not be coming for us?”
“Maybe they are. Maybe I’m wrong about the whole thing and it’s just taking some time. I’m sorry about Cecilia.”
“You talk like you know she’s dead.”
Darryl shook his head. “I don’t know that, Ryan. I didn’t say that.”
Ryan took a deep breath and leaned against the wall. “I know. I’m sorry. I wish we wouldn’t have gotten split up. I wish Ty wasn’t hurting. I’m glad you’re here. I was worried about you and Cecilia’s parents. Maybe she made it to their house.” It was a fat chance. Fox Lake was out of the way from where she was going.
“We’ll figure something out.”
Ryan grabbed the rope. “I’m gonna go for a little walk. I’ve been wanting to go out in my pasture and see if there’s anything in the debris that might be useful but haven’t wanted to get too far away from Ty. I won’t be gone long.”
“Be careful. I don’t have to tell you about watching for storms.”
Ryan patted him on the shoulder and went to ground level. He wanted to look for supplies, but he also wanted to be alone for a while to gather his thoughts. They couldn’t just sit around any longer. With word from his dad on the current situation, the only thing they were doing by waiting was dying slowly. He couldn’t sit around and watch Ty be in pain any longer, and he couldn’t speculate about where Cecilia might be.
When he went back down into the cellar, Darryl was busy cleaning Ty’s arm. The boy was cringing and his eyes were closed, but he was standing strong and taking it like a man. His father was bet
ter at the medical stuff – his years of doctoring animals on the farm probably helped with the experience. Ryan watched for a few seconds, feeling more comfortable about his decision after seeing how well his father was doing with Ty. He was a man Ryan could trust, which was the last ingredient he needed in his plan to try and make something happen.
Darryl looked up as he finished with the bandage. “I didn’t see you standing there. How long have you been there?”
“Not long. How’d you get him to relax?”
Darryl pulled a silver flask from his pocket. “The wonders of whiskey.”
“You didn’t...” Ryan cocked his head to the side.
“No, I didn’t, but I did use some of it to help clean the wound. Instant numbing effect. Seemed to work on him. Your boy is gonna be a whiskey drinker.” Darryl laughed and tossed the dirty bandages aside. Standing, he pushed the flask against Ryan’s chest. “Take a drink.”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“It’ll relax you. I’m not saying get trashed on it. It’s for medicinal purposes.”
Ryan unscrewed the lid and took a swig. It was strong and burned, but he savored the taste. He gave it back to his dad. “I’m going to go get some help tomorrow.”
Darryl arched his eyebrow and took a pull from the flask before putting it back in his pocket. “You sure about that?”
Ryan glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “There’s no other option. Ty is hurting. He’s going to lose that arm and more. You said so yourself. It’s infected. And his head...” Ryan stood strong. “I gotta find Cecilia. If I stay here, we’re gonna die. We can’t just keep hoping someone will come. It’ll be too late if we go off of that alone.”
Darryl nodded as they both looked at Ty. “I’m not going to try and talk you out of it. I walked over here.”
“And I’m glad you did, otherwise, I would have to stay here and wait it out. I trust you enough to leave Ty with you so I can do this.”