Emily roared, “Dada! You here! Dada! My Dada!”
Ryan was too weak to meet her halfway, and so Emily ran the full distance, throwing herself around his neck. It felt so right to have her here, safe in his arms. The two of them sobbed. She was alive and clean, wearing a pink checkered dress with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, fingers and toenails newly painted.
She was okay. The man hadn’t hurt her, let alone, eaten her. In fact, she looked to be a sight better than when her own father had her in his care. Ryan crumpled inside.
“Emily, my God, Emily. You’re okay.”
“Dada! I miss you.”
“I missed you too.” They stayed for some time in their locked embrace, the world blurring to inconsequence. He put his forehead against hers and whispered, “I love you.”
“Love you, Dada. Love you.” She paused. “I tee tee in potty! Like big girl!”
“Really?” He laughed, hoarse with thirst and emotion. “I’m so proud of you. Good job. That’ll save a few bucks a month on diapers.” He wiped the moisture from his eyes and kept her close. Over her shoulder he spoke to Sanjay. “Why did you take her? All you had to do was talk to me. Why?”
Sanjay rubbed the front of his neck. He was starting to calm, but was still prickly. “Whew, glad that did not break the skin. Lead and rat poison? It is very simple why I did not speak with you. A wild, bearded man with half his hair missing was pulling a dirty child around in a cage with a bloody canvas on top. I thought you were the cannibal, man. Come on now, to my people, all life is sacred. There are a few crazies out on the roadway. Not many, but a few. I try to stay safe. Stay alive.”
“But you kept saying, ‘eat her, eat her.’ I don’t understand.”
“I was freaking out, man. You looked like a demon when I took her. Mark my words, that is the last time I try to be the good guy. A good deed—”
“—never goes unpunished,” Ryan supplied. Emily’s forehead burrowed into him.
“Indeed.”
“Look, I’m sorry. Sanjay? Is that what they called you?”
“Indeed, Sanjay Bandyopadhyay.”
“That’s a mouthful. Do you forgive me, Mr. Bandoyopady?” Ryan knew he’d mangled the surname, or whatever it was in India.
“All is forgiven.” Sanjay grinned without confidence. “These many years have been hard on all of us in so many ways, especially the early ones. We have all lost so much. My whole family is gone, so is Ruth’s. We buried who we could.”
“At the waystation, you took down the map?”
“I didn’t want you to follow me.”
“But I found my way here anyway.”
“So it seems. But when God guides, you will find.” He tapped the red dot between his eyes. “Where did you come from? Despite looking ragged, you seem too fresh for this place. Your hands are still soft, your skin, it is not leather.”
“St. Louis, where else?” Sanjay and Ruth gasped. “Wait. What is it? I’m sure a lot of people have come from there.”
“That place is cursed,” Ruth said. “We don’t visit it.”
“How? Radiation? Sickness? Disease?”
“No,” her head hung low. “It’s cursed with memories. Soon after The Passing, the city stank of only filth and death. Over a quarter million bodies were spread out over sixty six square miles. It was unfathomable. Animals went mad with so much human flesh to feast on. Carrion birds and insects were rampant. All of us who came from the city fled it in the early days. It was just too much to take. Well, except for Sanjay here. He kept going back.”
“And it almost drove me mad,” he added. “But I had to stay for my children. They were in cages, trapped, unable to escape, just like your girl. Who would care for them in winter if I did not stay? I had to, for Karma’s sake. That is why we ran into each other on the road. I was doing my yearly pilgrimage before winter in order to check on them. They have flourished on the Forty-four, my yes, they have flourished.”
Ryan licked his dry lips. “Your children?”
“Oh, yes. The zoo animals, my furry wards before The Passing. Can you believe the media used to call me Zoo Man? I miss that title. I let them roam freely, but they must have shelter from the cold. Some die off every year, but many come back. The mischievous simians do the best.”
And then he remembered the man from TV.
Before Ryan could ask any more questions, Ruth lifted the backpack. “You still haven’t told us your name. Where did you get this?”
“What do you mean? It’s just a backpack.”
“Just a backpack,” Emily added, her tone mocking.
Each of Ruth’s words came out with a pause between. “Where—did—you—find—this backpack?” She pointed to the name embroidered in pink on its face.
“The house next door to mine in St. Louis. Why?”
“I knew it,” Ruth said, her smile widening. “I freakin’ knew it! When that girl was brought here, I knew she looked familiar somehow. Didn’t I say that, Sanjay? She wouldn’t tell us her name clearly, of course. She was very quiet, too. But I knew it. I knew it in my freakin’ bones. Doesn’t make any sense, though.”
He glared at her, taking it all in. Then, it hit him like a speeding trolley. The dark eyes. The round, friendly face. The black curls and full features to her frame. The way she stood. The way she crouched. The disarming tone of her voice.
Ryan croaked, “You’re Ruth Mannford, Karen’s daughter. But how is that possible? How old are you? How long has it been?”
“I’m Twenty-eight.” She stood and crossed her arms, eyes squinting. “Twenty-eight. But the real question is, how old are you, Mr. Sharpe? There’s no way you’re the same age.”
He had to think about this. “Thirty-nine. Yeah, thirty-nine.”
“Dada’s old,” Emily put in. She counted the years. “One, two, three, nine...”
“Not that old. Hardly mid-life.”
“But that’s not possible, Mr. Sharpe.” Ruth shook her head. “It can’t be possible. I was eight upon The Passing, when Mom was still having wine with you at the fence. That’s about how old she was then.”
“I’m not exactly proud of those days.”
One of her eyebrows arched. “If you’re looking for judgement from me to make you feel better, you won’t find any. Mom really needed a friend, and you were there for her. Just a nice guy to talk with. Still, it doesn’t add up. If she was still here, she’d be… Look, you should be in your fifties, at least.”
He squeezed Emily again. “Ruth, I have so much to tell you. I’ve learned things about what happened to the world. I have an idea what caused it all.”
She grinned at the two of them and ran a hand through her hair, ringlets bouncing. “Well, weird or not, I can’t wait to hear. What do you say we get you a bath and a proper meal? That’ll give us a good time to chat. We can whip up some burgers and fries, or just a sandwich, maybe even a pizza. We have plenty to spare.”
“You have no idea how good that sounds.” His stomach roared to life, spikes of hunger urgently clawing at the inside. Ruth and Sanjay helped him stand, Emily locked in his arms. There was no way he was letting go of her. She was real. He was real. Everything was going to be okay. No longer did he have to worry about Emily’s fate.
“How about a cold beer, too?” Ruth winked at him, hands gripping his arm. It felt nice to be touched by another human, one that wasn’t his little one. “After what just happened here, I know I could use one. I’m still shaking. Hey, Sanjay, I thought you were a goner. Dodged that bullet, eh?”
“A beer you say?” Ryan answered Ruth. “I’d like that. But first, can you help me with something very important?”
“Of course. Anything. What is it? You just name it.”
He turned to glance at the Hello Kitty lunchbox poking out of Ruth’s childhood backpack. “I need to put someone dear to rest.”
“I understand.” She handed him the backpack. Her lips formed a flat line, old pain dancing at the corners.
/> “Thanks.” And he slung it over his aching shoulder.
They worked their way up the hill, side by side, around a short stone wall to approach a collection of medium-size homes lining a residential street. As soon as Emily spotted the other children playing along the sidewalk, she jerked in his arms to be put down. Ryan did not let go.
This wasn’t a collection of mostly untouched homes that had survived. This was a neighborhood. The dwellings here were clean and freshly painted, with porches and flowers, their roofs covered in solar panels, yards trimmed, modified vehicles sitting in driveways. At the end of the block, a pick-up truck turned the corner, bringing with it exhaust fumes that smelled of cooking pancakes and French fries. The boy from earlier, Jamie, stood talking to a cluster of adults dressed in blue jeans and plaid collared shirts. They pivoted along with one another to face Ryan, Emily, and Ruth, eyes wide, so many unasked questions frozen on their lips.
It was too much to take in. There were others, many others. Dozens. Hundreds. This community, this settlement, led far out of sight down a bustling road filled with stunned faces. Where did it end?
A stranger had stumbled into their midst. Ryan was both comforted and terrified. What if they told him to leave? Said, leave the girl, but he wasn’t welcome? What if they were afraid of him? He had, after all, been leaning over the edge of sanity. He was afraid of even himself.
He squeezed his daughter and took a deep breath. They had come so far.
“Hey, Mr. Sharpe?” Ruth asked, aware of his acute discomfort.
“Yes, Miss. Mannford?”
She put her arms around the two of them and whispered, “Welcome home.”
Epilogue
Ryan hunched over a wooden bench, carefully soldering capacitors onto a green, silicon board. He tapped the tip of the soldering iron to a sponge, producing a sizzling noise before starting on the next component. This level of electronics had never been something he was good at, it was outside his field of study, but given all the time in the world he had learned so much. The hardest part of working on this device, however, had not been on the physical electronics, but on coding the software it would run. Thankfully, that was well within his field of study—as were many new subjects.
A pair of hands wrapped around his leg, startling him, and he jabbed the tip of the soldering iron into the back of his opposite hand.
“Ouch!” he shouted, and put the iron back into its rest. “Careful now, sweetie. Daddy’s working with something very hot.” He rubbed the wound for a moment, it wasn’t so bad.
He peered down at the set of wide eyes looking up at him.
She smiled and tried to tickle him in the side. “I got you, Daddy! Come on, let’s go play! I’m bored. Sooo bored. I found a soccer ball. Let’s kick it around!”
Cool winds rushed through the yard. From what little data Ryan could gather, in the twenty-five years that had passed, things were already getting back to normal. Humanity’s mysterious reset might just have saved the world. The skies were clear. The air was clean. Animal life had flourished.
He mussed her dark hair and spun on his stool, fingers scratching the edge of his belly. He really did need to get some exercise. As good a cook as her mom was, he was packing on the pounds with record speed. It was hard to believe this little girl was five already. Where had the time gone?
“Sorry, Dad!” Emily shouted from across the backyard, fast approaching the work shed. “June’s been a mess today, haven’t you?” She rested her hands on the hips of her jeans, bangs of her hair indignantly tumbling down into her eyes.
“No, I haven’t. I’ve been a good girl. I promise!” June narrowed her eyes at Emily. “Right, Daddy?”
Emily took June in her arms and spun them in circles beside their house. She was getting so tall, nearly reaching Ryan’s shoulders when they stood. He could still remember the days of having to stoop just to hold her hand; a beautiful, defenseless child in a frightening world. Now, she was the big girl, sixty pounds of wild, contemplative energy. A perfect mix of both her parents.
“You’re never a good girl, dirt baby,” Emily said in a mocking tone. “Look at you, you’re filthy. And your hands, dang it, they’re covered in chalk. Been working on the road again?”
“I like to dig tunnels for my railroad. And Aunt Lisa needed help with more names. I like drawing names.”
“Whatever. Too bad you can’t spell worth a monkey’s flip. We should get you cleaned up. You coming, Dad?” Emily tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. He could tell she was nervous about today.
Ryan nodded. “Just a minute. Let me get everything put up.”
“Super.”
“Look at them play,” a voice whispered in his ear.
He spun to wrap his arms around its owner. “Hey, honey. What are you doing up and about? I thought you were tired.”
“I’m not so bad off today.” Ruth Mannford, now Mrs. Sharpe, kissed him on the lips. “I’ve done this before, you know.” She watched June and Emily chase one another around the yard. Her hands absently rubbed her round belly. “What do you think it will be?”
“A boy, I hope,” Ryan responded, a persistent grin on his face. “Not that I don’t love my girls, it’s just…”
“My little scientist,” Ruth mused. “You just want to be sure the settlement has an equal number of men and women. I get it, love.”
“Like we can control it.” He unplugged the soldering iron and stowed his project in a weather sealed box. “We’re going back today.”
“I know.”
“You want to come with us?”
“I do,” she said, a touch of apprehension in her voice. “But I don’t want to impose. This is between the two of you. I would only be going for support. You know that.”
“Does it bother you?”
“Bother me? Not at all. Emily is as much my child now as June. I—“
“Look, Dad!” Emily zoomed up on the open workshop. “I found this when we were scavenging the other day. It’s a Hello Kitty cookie jar. Hardly damaged too, just a couple chips, and really colorful. Think Mom would have liked it?” She paused, face turning down. “Hi, Mom.”
Ruth smiled. “Hi, sweetie.” And continued to rub her belly.
“I think she would have loved it,” Ryan held the cookie jar up, trying to avoid the uncomfortable line walked by his new wife and oldest daughter. “Would you like to keep flowers in it?”
“That’s a great idea! Thanks, Dad.” She kissed him on the cheek and took off, June at her heels. “We’ll take them from Aunt Lisa’s garden.”
Before Ryan could say a word, Ruth spoke up, “It’s okay. That was her mother, and she will always love her, even if she didn’t really know her. And in truth, I have to be thankful for Lillian as well. If not for her, the two of you wouldn’t be here. June wouldn’t be here.”
“I know, it’s just, I don’t want you to—“
“Shhh.” She put a finger over his lips. “Everything is fine.” She kissed him again, then on the forehead. “How’s the project coming? Is it almost finished? You’ve been out here a lot.”
Ryan’s face lit up. “Yes it is. And when I’m done, the world will be a better place.”
Ruth gazed into his eyes and grinned, the sound of their children playing, echoing behind them. “The world is already a better place.”
About the author:
A native to the Magic City, J. Fitzpatrick Mauldin has always lived with one foot in a world of steel and concrete, another in that of imagination and futurism. He is the product of a micro-biologist father and engineer grandfather, both obsessed with history, who have always challenged him to think harder. J. Fitzpatrick Mauldin has lived many lives from electronic music producer and DJ during the early 2000s to an entrepreneur in promotional products, and is now an administrator for one of the world’s largest real estate brands. He is married to a book addicted wife and has a mad genius daughter, the latter of which might one-day rule the world. Aside from the madness of th
e day to day, he dreams of returning to his second home in the Pacific Northwest, where he can continue to write his own brand of sci-fi and fantasy which teeters upon the edge of hard science and speculation.
To read other stories by J. Fitzpatrick Mauldin, visit: www.jfitzpatrickmauldin.com
Follow him on Twitter: www.twitter.com/jfmauldin
And on Facebook: www.facebook.com/jfmauld
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