The next hour passes in silence. In the back, we lose ourselves in a movie. Upfront, Sofie is intermittently nodding off to sleep and watching the scenery. I can’t even imagine what Dad is thinking about, but he is driving and working to keep the average speed above 100.
A gas pit stop somewhere in Pennsylvania is surprisingly uneventful. We pull up to the pumps and Dad fills her up. “While we have electricity, should we pay cash for gas?” Dad says loud enough to get through the car windows. For a second I expect him to walk to the cashier booth and leave money. I can already hear him saying, “It’s the right thing to do,” but he doesn’t. He hangs up the pump, hops into the Escalade, and we are off. I wonder if he had this kind of moral dilemma when he obtained the Escalade in the first place.
As we pull out of the rest area Dad tosses his phone back to me. “Seamus, open up Trulia and find the most expensive home in Akron, Ohio.” Trulia is how Mom and Dad voyeuristically watch the real estate market. I’m not sure why he wants to look at a home in Ohio, though, and it seems like kind of a non sequitur.
“Okay, I’ll bite,” says Sofie from the front seat. “Why are you interested in Ohio real estate?”
“Are we going to stay in Ohio for a few days?” asks Liam from the back seat. I seriously wish he would think before he speaks. That is the dumbest thing he could have said.
Dad has learned to not even answer the dumbest of questions from him. “I’m looking for a place to spend the night,” he says evenly.
“Why not just go to a hotel and crash there?” This is the quickest Sofie has spoken since we met her. It’s not a bad question, but she usually waits to see how things play out before she says anything.
“In my mind, ‘hotel’ equals ‘complicated.’ I don’t want to worry about how we program a key or how we find and cook food in an industrial kitchen. It just seems like there is a list of things that could make a hotel a hassle.” Dad is getting tired.
“Well I suppose the rest of us don’t really have a say. But if you ask me, ‘hotel’ equals ‘options.’ I have no idea what’s going to happen tomorrow and the idea of being in a big safe hotel appeals to me.” Sofie is on edge. She used the word “safe,” and I am wondering if she worries about paramilitary groups and government agents the way I do.
After a period of silence, Dad lets out a heavy sigh. “Sofie, I understand your perspective and I’m not saying you are wrong. I just want to stay low-key and easy. We find a house, let ourselves in, and we are good for the night. When we get to California, we can move into the fanciest hotel in San Francisco.”
It’s just dawned on me that low-key and easy is also “incognito.” If we lit up the top-floor of a hotel tonight, that would call attention to us. If there is anyone else out there, we would be sitting ducks. I’m not sure this is part of Dad’s thought process, but I bet it is. Right now we’re playing checkers, and he’s playing chess.
“How does six bedrooms, seven and a half baths in 10,000 square feet sound? 30,000 bottle wine cellar, swimming pool and hot tub. All situated on 20 private acres of hills and fields.” I’m not usually the one to change the subject. I like to grind things out and make all parties admit the truth. This just seems like a case where moving on will solve a lot of problems.
“A swimming pool!” Grace is sold on this one already.
“How far from the highway is it?” Dad is thinking logistics. It would have been better if he included that parameter when he asked me to look for a place. Fortunately I included that variable on my own.
“Not far,” I say with one of my patented sighs.
“How much?” asks Liam. It doesn’t matter and the number will be irrelevant to a 15-year-old, but he likes his questions.
“Just over $2 million. I’ve plugged the address into navigation. It says we are forty minutes away. I bet you can’t make it there in twenty,” I say as I hand the phone back to Dad.
“You’re on,” he says, as we accelerate to an almost uncomfortable speed.
Chapter 12
It took us twenty-seven minutes to get to the house. Dad was almost reckless on the highway but had no choice other than to slow down on the back roads. Now we have another unforeseen problem: a gate.
Dad hops out of the Escalade and gives the gate a push. It doesn’t move. Not even an inch. He examines the gate, presumably for a latch or release of some kind, but has no luck. A last shove on the gate and he is done with it.
“Dad! We can smash through it with the car. No one will care.” Liam needs some excitement and his words come out so fast we can barely understand him.
“Sorry, Liam. Not this time.” Dad already has the car in drive and we are continuing down the street. “I don’t want to risk damaging the car in any way. Transferring our stuff to another vehicle will take too much time.”
I see on the navigation screen that the street ends in a cul-de-sac. Dad must be assuming that there is a house or houses around it. As we get closer, his hunch proves correct. There are 4 houses, all big and all beautiful.
“This looks like it was a pretty nice neighborhood,” Grace says as we slowly pull up to the circle.
“Technically, it still is a pretty nice neighborhood,” I say, somewhat wishing I had kept that as inner monologue. “I guess what I mean is that this doesn’t look any different now than it did last week before all the people here died. If it was nice then, it’s still nice now. If we come back in a few weeks and the grass and plantings are all overgrown, then the past tense would be appropriate.”
No one is interested in my semantics. Sometimes Grace will clue me in that correcting people is not the best tactic for making friends, but, given that I corrected her, she doesn’t speak up now.
“I suppose that’s a debate, whether a neighborhood is defined by the people or the properties. That would have been interesting, emphasis on the past tense there. We don’t seem to be in a position where debating relatively trivial things warrants a lot of brainpower. Emphasis on the present tense.” Sofie is sticking up for Grace and making a good argument on her behalf.
Dad has parked the car in the second driveway around the cul-de-sac. I’m not sure what he’s looking at, but he waits for a few minutes before he turns the engine off and moves his hand to the door.
“Here’s the deal. No guns, boys. I want everyone to go to the front door of a different house. Check the door. If it is unlocked, open it. If it’s not, look around for a hidden key. If you see or hear a person, dog, cat, anything, you haul ass back to the Escalade. Got it?” Dad is still looking around, but I can’t figure at what.
“Sofie and Grace, you two stick together. Meet back here when you are done,” he says, and Dad is out the door.
Dad is on his way to the furthest house. Sofie and Grace are walking up to the house where we are parked. We should have worked out who goes to which house in the car. I want to tell Liam that he should go to the house between Dad and Grace. I have this need to direct him and try and control him. But instead of saying anything, I start walking to the outside house.
In classic fashion, the basketball hoop distracts Liam. He takes a couple of shots and dribbles a little before Dad’s whistle snaps him awake. Then he heads on his way to the house between Dad and Grace.
My house is locked tight. There is no key to be found but the ADT security sticker is prominently displayed. I wonder if we need to worry about this. If I were the government looking for survivors, I would certainly tap into the ADT security network. It’s odd to be thinking about breaking into a house and not be worried about getting in trouble. I am still worried. Maybe breaking and entering will always be the wrong thing to do?
We all meet back at the Escalade. Naturally Liam is the last one to get there. “Locked, no key.” comes the report from Sofie.
“Mine too,” I say.
“Same here,” says Dad.
“Mine was locked, but I found a key.” Liam is all smiles as if he did something to win this lottery.
“Were
there any animals or strange noises inside?” Grace asks. I think she is hoping to find a cat or a parakeet or something.
“I didn’t open the door. Dad only said to see if there was a key.” Liam is looking puzzled. Even when he follows directions to the letter, he seems to find a way to have people annoyed with him.
“Seriously, Liam?” This can’t surprise dad but he’s looking at Liam in shock. Liam’s hands are up in the air as if to say, “What did I do?”
“Seamus, go see if the key unlocks the door. Liam, Grace and Sofie, get anything you need for the night. We’re staying here even if I have to use my key.” The rock in his hand and the line out of a cheesy movie eventually have us all laughing. Except Dad doesn’t laugh; apparently, he was serious.
The key works, of course. I step into the large foyer with a long, curving staircase to the second floor. The tile floor is clean and bright. On the left is a library/den/office—I’m not sure what you would call it. The room has floor to ceiling bookshelves, four large comfortable-looking chairs, and no obvious television screen or monitors. It looks as though no one has ever sat in that room, let alone recently. What a waste of resources to have a room full of stuff just for show.
On the right is a dining room. There is a long table that could seat fourteen. A gaudy reproduction sideboard completes the furniture in the room that I’m sure was called “elegant” or “stunning” by the homeowners’ friends. Though I’m guessing they had more acquaintances, colleagues or associates. I can’t imagine people who are this phony possibly having true friends.
I’m about to go straight where there is a hallway under the staircase when I feel a hand on my shoulder. My blood freezes and my legs become like cement. I don’t know whether to run, callout or turn and face whoever it is. But I do nothing.
“Sorry to startle you, Seamus,” Dad says as he walks past me with the gun in his hand. “Let me check the place out before we all go in. You wait here for the others. Same rules apply; if you hear anything out of the ordinary, haul ass back to the Escalade. Be ready to drive and get as far away as you can if anything comes out of the house other than me.”
I didn’t even realize he was whispering. My fear must have had all my sense at their peak performance. I’m not sure why Dad is suddenly being so clandestine. If there were a person or thing here, it would likely have attacked when the door opened. He’s walking quietly but with purpose, doing his best impersonation of a SWAT team clearing a house.
Grace, Sofie and Liam arrive at the door and are annoyed with me for telling them to wait. But Dad is back at the foot of the stairs rather quickly. We don’t have to argue for long, which is a relief. I am mentally exhausted from doing nothing.
“Sorry for weirding out there a little.” Dad’s voice is back to a normal level. “The first floor looks safe. Why don’t you guys head back to the kitchen and living room area and investigate? I’m going to check the upstairs quickly, and I’ll be down soon.”
I don’t understand why he can’t communicate with us. He is worried about something. It’s obvious to me. Grace can probably tell that something is up but can’t figure out who or what is out of whack. Liam is clueless, but I think Sofie can tell Dad’s got something and won’t let it go.
The rear of the house is gorgeous and gives a totally different impression of the people that lived here. It is an open floor plan with a large great room space on the left and a high-end but comfortable-looking cook’s kitchen on the right. The great room has a big fireplace that looks well-used and the overstuffed couches and chairs look worn, comfortable and inviting. I can imagine them watching football games in the fall with family and friends while they cook and eat comfort food in the kitchen.
The back wall of the house is all windows. No, those look like they are actually doors. They open onto a patio that surrounds a pool and hot tub complex that is made for entertaining. Liam is already out there checking the water. Grace, Sofie and I head outside to join him.
Sneakers and socks are coming off fast, but it doesn’t feel right. This isn’t our house and we don’t have permission. In the front of the house, I didn’t care about these people. They were fake, mannequins. It didn’t matter what we did here. Now that I’ve seen where they lived, the pictures on the wall, the comfortable relaxed atmosphere, I know they were a family, just like us. I’m thinking we should say a few words before anyone does a cannonball.
But I’m not the person for feelings. Why isn’t Grace freaking about this? I can’t even think of what I would say about these strangers. Nor can I muster the energy to stop the others from unwinding. We’re working with a new norm, which is fine with me since I was never overly comfortable with the old norm. Maybe the others feel it, too. The energy has come way down and the expected progression to cannon balls and splashing fun hasn’t happened. Now it seems like we’ve been sitting in silence for too long.
Dad comes walking out to the patio and is clearly agitated. “The pool looks really nice guys, but did anyone check for food and water? Potable water?” Now he is looking intently at each of us.
“I hate to be an ogre, but until we settle down somewhere, food and water need to be our top priority every time we stop for the night.” Dad breaks the momentary silence. “Sofie and Grace, please go to the kitchen and inventory the food and water. See if there is anything in the freezer that we can eat tonight. If you find anything rotten or moldy, put it in a bag and we’ll move it to the garage.”
Everyone is slow to move. Dad is right, but now we all feel like 10 year olds who are in trouble for leaving our dirty clothes on the floor. The parent-child dynamic is back. Maybe this is a drawback of spending the night in a “family home.”
“Liam, go see if you can work the entertainment system and if they have a library of DVDs or something so we can relax tonight.” Dad is giving out busy-work so we don’t fight or argue.
“Seamus, come with me. We need to tour the outside of the house.” Dad’s got a flashlight in the hand that previously held the gun. He’s walking quickly towards the door in the back wall surrounding the patio. I take a breath to protest, but before I can speak, Dad starts talking: “Specifically I want you to look for a generator. If we lose power tonight, I want to make sure we can get it back, even if the grid is down.”
Maybe thinking like a child has me feeling like a child. Dad clearly has some thoughts on what needs to happen to keep us safe and get everyone to California. Coaching myself not to feel chastised every time Dad raises a complaint will be tough. But I can do it. After all, I am not a mental midget.
A tour of the “perimeter,” as Dad calls it, yields no generator. Dad points out a bush and a rock near the wall that could be used for a boost to get over the top. They bother him, but not nearly as much as not finding a generator. I hope he doesn’t ask us to pack up so we can leave.
“Did you check the basement?” I ask him before the thought has even registered in my own head.
“Great idea, let’s go.” Dad is off.
The basement is neat and clean and well-organized. In what could only be called the “Systems Room” is a furnace and the hot water storage. There is also a pool heater unit and, there in the corner, is a generator. Everything runs off a central pipeline that is likely natural gas. I quickly inspect the generator and see that it is wired into the house’s breaker panel and drives the breakers for the heat and water, as well as lights and outlets in the kitchen and great room. It’s nice to see a breaker panel that is neat and well-labeled. I read the short instruction sheet on top and am confident that even Liam could turn on the generator in a matter of minutes if needed.
I can see and almost feel Dad’s whole body relax. It has been a long day for him, but I think he is finally comfortable that we are safe and sound for the night. This is just the first day. I’m not sure if things will get easier or harder as we approach California, but I know Dad won’t be able to maintain this level of functional-overstress for more than a few days.
When we get back upstairs, the party is in full swing. Music is playing in the kitchen, Grace is cooking something that smells amazing, and Sofie has opened a bottle of wine. Dad doesn’t even ask who opened it or why; he just pours a big glass and heads out to the patio. Liam is doing cannonballs, going from pool to hot tub and back. Steam is being blown off in a big way. I stay in the kitchen and provide Grace a limited level of assistance.
I desperately want to ask where Sofie is. But Grace and I have been a team for so long, I need to maintain our bond. I need to make sure she knows that I am there for her. She and I are a part of each other’s normal.
“You can go see Sofie if you want. She’s in the hot tub.” Grace is grinning knowingly and holding back her laugh.
“I’m good, thanks for offering.” I smile back, and we start plating the meal.
Chapter 13
Dad went to bed right after dinner. He’s always been the “early to bed, early to rise” kind of person. We were admonished not to stay up too late. While Dad went upstairs to a bedroom, we all dozed together in the great room. But now it’s 5 a.m. and I am wishing I had gone to find a bed.
After another thirty minutes of restless rest, I can’t stand it anymore. I’m going to get up and make a pot of coffee.
I should have known that Dad would already be awake. No complaints though; this way I don’t have to make coffee. It’s been a tough transition to black coffee now that we have no dairy products. I rummage through the cupboards looking for a non-dairy creamer to take the edge off, but no luck. I guess I’ll have to grow some hair on my chest and deal.
Dad is sitting out by the pool and I pull up a chair next to him. Up through fourth grade, I would come downstairs in the morning and climb into Dad’s lap and snuggle with him before school. I held onto that last little-boy act as long as could. It was safe and warm and comfortable and I want to climb onto his lap now. If I tried it today he would probably slap me and ask, “What the hell is wrong with you?” But it’s because I’m 5’10” and 175 pounds, not because he doesn’t want to snuggle.
Annihilation (The Seamus Chronicles Book 1) Page 8