SURGE

by Donna Elliott

  “We should be going now,” he announces. “We need to get back and check on Eric.” He thanks the others for the tour and the snack, and then takes ahold of Kat’s hand. With one last smile, he turns and we begin the trek to the car.

  After about twenty feet, Raul whispers, “You ok?”

  I hum my response, “Mmm hmm.”

  “What happened?” he asks.

  I plaster a fake grin on my face and talk through my teeth, like a ventriloquist. “He weirded me out.”

  Struggling to match our brisk pace, Kat joins our stilted conversation. “What’s going on? What are you two talking about?”

  “Not here,” I say. “I’ll tell you at the house.”

  ◌◌◌

  As soon as we enter Raul’s home, Charlie charges into the room and begins frantically sniffing all of us. Although Kat visited with a bunch of the farm critters, she didn’t lay on the ground and let them crawl all over her. Charlie sways between Raul and me, and his nose pokes up and down while he tries to analyze the smells.

  I laugh when Raul pushes the dog away from his crotch. “I guess it’s time to try to wash our clothes again,” I say. “Charlie looks like he’s going nuts from all the different animal smells.”

  Mom interrupts and moves toward the living room. “I need to check on the boys,” she says. “I want to make sure everything’s ok.”

  Before she can take a step, Matthew runs toward us. “You’re back! How was it? What happened?”

  “It was nice,” says Mr. Miller. “How were things here? Was it quiet while we were gone?”

  “Yeah,” says Matthew. “It was super quiet. Quiet and so dead. There’s nothing to do anymore.” Pointing over his shoulder toward the other room, he whispers, “and Eric just reads. Ohmigosh, he reads and reads and reads. I don’t want to babysit him anymore.”

  From around the corner, Eric responds a little testily. “I can hear you, Matthew. First of all, you aren’t babysitting me. And secondly, I offered to play cards or a board game with you.”

  Our group shuffles into the living room as Eric finishes his rebuttal. “But you’d rather sit on the ground and just complain … and eat.”

  He looks to my mom and says, “He ate almost everything you left for us within the first hour. Apparently, Matthew doesn’t like Vienna sausages, so he left that and the vegetable crackers for me.”

  Eric looks like he hasn’t moved much from his position this morning. His body is still stretched along the couch, but it is now surrounded with a variety of books. I reach down and pick up one. “Where did you get all of these?”

  “I went to the library before the flare hit,” he said. “I’ve looked at a few of them, but I needed a distraction from Matthew’s complaints, so I asked him to bring down my entire backpack…he stopped complaining when I began reading bits out loud.” Smirking a bit, he adds, “because he fell asleep.”

  Kat can’t stay quiet a moment longer. “Eric! The compound is so great! I want you both to see it. You and Matthew missed the baby goats and calf and puppies – you need to get well quickly, so we can take you back with us.

  “Ah man, you got to play with puppies? Why did I have to stay here? It was so boring,” says Matthew. Then turning and kicking a pillow across the room, he gripes, “You’re so boring, Eric.”

  “Oh?” asks Eric. “And yet, you’re such a plethora of amusement, Matthew.”

  Mom makes eye contact with Mr. Miller, and a silent message travels across the air. Mr. Miller understands and walks over to his son. Putting his arm around the boy’s shoulders, he pulls him toward the front door. “Let’s go outside. We can toss the football around or play catch.”

  After watching them leave, Mom turns to me. “I think I’ll take Charlie outside. He could probably use some exercise too. Why don’t the three of you tell Eric about the compound and fill him in on our day.” Looking at our invalid, she asks, “Are you feeling better this afternoon? Do you need anything before I go?”

  With a swift shake of his head and a lopsided grin, Eric dismisses my mom. “Ok,” she says. “Ask one of these guys to help if you need it. I’ll be outside.”

  ◌◌◌

  Once Mom exits the house, Eric pushes himself into a seated position on the couch, and we circle around him. Raul provides a brief summary of our visit and failure to get any information from Patrick, and Eric asks him a few questions.

  “He denied being out on the road that day?”

  “Yep.”

  Eric looks at me. “But you said that you saw him?”

  I nod. “I’m pretty sure it was Patrick.”

  Looking back at Raul, Eric asks, “Did he seem defensive?”

  Raul shrugs, “He’s always defensive.”

  “Do you think he’s hiding something?”

  I look left and right at Kat and Raul. None of us offers an answer. I’m unsure what to think right now. I really believe it was Patrick in the car, but the road is pretty far away, so it’s possible that I’m wrong.

  Eric’s voice breaks into my pondering. “I’d like to speak with him,” he says. “I’d like to get out of this house too.”

  “Yes, you need to go to the commune; it’s really great Eric!” says Kat. “After you talk with Patrick, you can take a tour of the place. I think you’ll really like it. They have all sorts of things there. They even have a library, and Reverend Hastings says they have a few lab supplies…doesn’t that sound like a place you’d enjoy staying at?”

  “I suppose,” he says. Then with a confused look, he turns to Raul. “Is that something that we’re considering? Does everyone want to move to the commune?”

  “No. I don’t,” says Raul. “And neither does Mya. But I think the others were pretty impressed with the place.”

  “There’s a lot of stuff there,” I say. “And there are a lot of people there. I’m sure it’s much safer, but…”

  When I don’t continue, Eric leans in, “But?”

  “But…well…Reverend Hastings is a little weird.”

  Kat gets up and walks across the room to pick up the pillow that Matthew kicked. She purses her lips a bit and then speaks. “You mentioned that at the compound Mya, but I didn’t see anything weird. He offered us some of his food. He took us on a tour of the place. And he even offered to let us go live there and join them. How, exactly, is that weird? I think it’s pretty nice.”

  I lean over and begin picking at the soles of my tennis shoes. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from snapping out a retort. When I don’t answer, Kat walks over and kneels beside me. “What did he do? Why don’t you like him?”

  “I don’t want to disagree with you,” I say. “And I don’t want to make you mad. I just don’t get a very good vibe from him. There’s something…and before we left, when he invited us to stay, he said he’d like to ‘explore my hidden talents.’ Why would he look at me and say that? It’s almost as if he knows something about me.”

  Goose bumps form on my arms, and I give a little shiver. “What if he does know something?”

  “How would he know anything?” she asks.

  Eric clears his throat to get our attention. “I think your mom will agree to let me get out of the house in a few more days. Perhaps we could all return to the compound for a visit, and I can see if I get a similar vibe, Mya.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Even though our gas tank is less than half filled, we all pile into the PT Cruiser and head south a couple of days later. Reverend Hastings is unavailable, but Mr. Willows seems happy to accompany our group around the area and to the barnyard. Several children are playing with the puppies, and Matthew runs over to join the fun.

  Since Eric missed the initial tour, Mr. Willows describes the amenities available and the methods used for completing daily chores. The entire group works as a family to feed and clothe everyone.

  Eric listens intently and poses a question that the rest of us failed to notice. “Where are all the adults?”

  “Well,
” says Mr. Willows, “unfortunately, we don’t have very many adults living here. Primarily, we have kids your age and younger.”

  Mom and Mr. Miller look at each other and frown. “Why is that?” asks Mom.

  “We didn’t have much community interest before the flare. You’ll recall that Jonah has been trying to build up the commune for nearly a year. When the flare hit, these kids were left without any parents. They didn’t know where to go, and they didn’t know how to survive, so we rounded them up and brought them here.”

  “How many people were initially living here?” asks Eric.

  “There were three families, other than myself, Jonah, and his kids.”

  “And how many showed up after the flare?”

  “I’m not sure what the actual count is,” says Mr. Willows. “A couple of men just showed up. With them and the new kids, I’d say there are twenty-five or so, but the number fluctuates from day to day.”

  At my look of confusion, he explains, “Some people don’t like to muck out animal stalls and dig plants from the ground. Living off the land is hard work, and you millennials have had pampered lives, with all your electronic gadgets and tools. Our days begin early and end late.”

  “I think this place is wonderful,” interjects Kat. “Would it be possible to live back at our house, but share in the work here? I don’t mind getting dirty, and I’d love to be around all these animals.”

  “I’m not in charge of admitting new members, but I’d be glad to speak with the reverend, if you’d like.”

  Mr. Willows smiles at our group and redirects his attention to Eric. “Mr. Eisenbeis, you might be interested in the solar panel project that I’ve begun. I’m a little short on materials, but I’m attempting to create a small energy source to power some of our fans, for when the summer temperatures soar. If I can get a couple of them running by July, I think everyone will be a lot happier. As I recall, you have a creative mind.”

  “I’d be very interested,” says Eric. “I was just wondering about energy storage units the other day. If we can create the solar panels, it would be quite beneficial to have some battery units to charge. Do you know if anything like that survived the fires?”

  I’m sure that Eric has been trying to discover a way to harness my electrical energy, but this topic is dull, and I’m losing interest.

  I jump into the conversation as soon as there’s a lull. “Would it be ok if Raul and I look around? We won’t go into any of the private areas. I’d just like to walk a bit.”

  “Of course, help yourself,” says our host. “We ask only that you don’t venture into the processing house. The equipment there is a bit touchy, and we wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  I nod in agreement, and Raul and I wander toward the courtyard area.

  “Everyone seems so thrilled with this place,” he says. “I don’t understand the draw.”

  “Having more people to share the workload would probably be nice for my mom. She spends so much time preparing meals for us. I’m sure she’d enjoy a break from it.”

  “Are you wanting to live here too, then?” he asks.

  We reach the bench where Patrick and I waited the other day, and I sit down. “I don’t know. Maybe we should listen to what everyone has to say.”

  “I don’t want to live here,” states Raul.

  A voice from the center cooking area enters our conversation. “Good,” it says. “I don’t want you to live here either.”

  The comment reaches my ears, just as a head raises from below the gazebo rail. Holding a bowl filled with raw russet potatoes, Patrick Hastings emerges from the enclosure.

  Raul quickly jumps to his feet and advances on Patrick. “Eavesdropping?”

  “Hardly,” says Patrick. “If you don’t want other people to hear your conversation, then perhaps you shouldn’t chat in the middle of the entire community.”

  He gives us his back and walks over to a small hand pump that I failed to notice the first time I visited. I watch as he pours water into the bowl and begins to scrub the dirt away from the vegetables. Raul returns to the bench and continues his earlier complaint, but now, he has only half of my attention. I interject a few comments during his diatribe, but mostly, I just let him talk.

  My eye catches a quick slight-of-hand movement by Patrick. He’d been holding two potatoes, but very adeptly dropped one into his jacket pocket. Heeding his advice to hold my tongue in the courtyard, I stay silent but continue to peek at him through hooded lids. By the time he’s completed the initial cleansing, I’ve counted three potatoes removed from the original group.

  I’m about to say something to Raul, when my friends walk up. Eric notices Patrick and heads over to have a word, while Kat wiggles onto the bench beside me.

  “Reverend Hastings showed up right after you left,” she says. “Your mom and Mr. Miller wanted to have some time alone with him, so Eric and I decided to see where you guys went.”

  Looking at both of us, in turn, she continues, “I think they want to consider the possibility of spending some of our daytime hours over here. They know that you two don’t really want to live here, so they’re trying to find an acceptable compromise.”

  “Is Eric interested in living here?” I ask.

  “There’s more stuff for Eric to mess with here,” she says. “You know how he is. His mind needs to be analyzing and planning. This is a good place for that.”

  “I thought Eric wanted to come here to find out about the attack,” I say. “I didn’t realize that he wants to move here too.”

  “Nobody’s decided anything yet,” she says sweetly. “But if trying to live each day suddenly becomes more difficult, wouldn’t it be better to have a support group? There’s still a bunch of those guys from the hospital out there somewhere. I mean, you know, if we have a bunch of people around us, it’s a lot harder to attack us, right?”

  I don’t know what to think anymore, so I just nod my head a few times and look around.

  Across the courtyard, Eric picks up a potato and says something to Patrick. I don’t know if he’s getting any information about last week, but it does look like they’re holding a two-sided conversation.

  As I watch, Patrick’s head does a speedy swivel to the left and right, and he leans in toward Eric. I have no idea what’s being said, but it must be interesting, because Eric’s mouth suddenly drops open, and his eyes are huge.

  I can see that he’s shaken, so I hop to my feet and head toward the duo. “Eric?” I ask. “Is everything ok?”

  I notice Patrick reach over and lightly tap Eric’s leg. I ignore the movement and repeat my question. “You ok?”

  Eric licks his lower lip and visibly hesitates before responding. After a few seconds, his head bobs, “Yep, yes, I’m good.” Rising from the ground, he brushes off his pants and looks down at Patrick. “Maybe you could show me that contraption sometime. I think I’d really enjoy seeing it.”

  Still looking down at the ground, Patrick offers a small lift of his shoulder. “K,” he says, “whatever.”

  Noises behind me catch my ear, and I turn to look. The group from the barnyard has relocated and is approaching Raul and Kat. The adults are animatedly chatting, and Matthew is beaming from ear to ear. In his arms sits one of the brown puppies, and beside him are two kids who appear similar in age.

  Eric and I approach, and Reverend Hastings claps his hands together. “I’d like to invite y’all to spend a few days with us,” he says. “I understand there’s a bit of reluctance among you, but I think if you give us a chance, you may find this place quite agreeable. I can make plans for an evening cookout. How about next week? I’ll contact you in a couple of days, and we can set the date.”

  “That sounds very nice,” says Mom. “I’ll see what I have to contribute to the meal, and I’ll surprise you.”

  After a few more pleasantries, we load into the car and head back to Raul’s home. I’m curious about Eric’s secret conversation, but I decide to hold my tongue until
later.

  ◌◌◌

  That evening, Mr. Miller recommends we all convene in the dining room for a bit of fun. “Let’s get several of the board games and try to take our minds off of everything that’s been happening.”

  Raul opens the hall closet, and I’m in awe of the collection of games. I select Catan, while the other kids grab King of Tokyo, Pandemic, and Yahtzee. Eric announces that he’s feeling tired, and he’d prefer to rest upstairs.

  Mom begins to worry and questions him about his wound.

  “It’s fine,” he says. “I’m just a bit drained. I haven’t had this much fresh air and exercise in quite a while. Thank you for asking, but really, I’m fine.”

  Mom watches him climb the stairs and then joins us at the table. Since she and Mr. Miller are unfamiliar with the newer games, we begin our entertainment with Yahtzee. My roll of the dice begins poorly and only worsens with each turn. Mom and Matthew have both rolled perfect Yahtzees, whereas, I already have two zeros on my scorecard.

  “Who chose this game?” I gripe. “I want to play Catan next.”

  “You’re always such a good loser,” laughs Raul. “If you’d rolled a Yahtzee right now, we’d be playing this game until midnight.”

  I give him my silent, squinty-eyed look and pass the dice to Kat. “I like Catan,” she says, “but not when it gets all cutthroat. Maybe we could start off playing a little more friendly?”

  “I was thinking we might take a short break after this game and make a treat,” says Mom. “Jonah gave me a few eggs today, and I found a box of brownie mix in the pantry.” She looks down at the table and smiles, “If Mya would heat the oven for thirty minutes, we could all enjoy dessert.”

  “You want me to cook everyone a snack, after you just slaughtered me in this game?”

  Matthew jumps up and runs over to me. Snatching my scorecard off the table, he shoves his own paper in front of me. “Here Mya. You win. Now, let’s have brownies.”

  ◌◌◌

  After sitting on the kitchen counter with my hand against the stove trim for the past half hour, the smell of chocolatey goodness fills the house. My arm may be unhappy, but my nose is in heaven.