She bent over looking down right into his spellbound eyes. “You might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” As she spoke, she gently caressed his cheek with her hand and those cheeks instantly glowed with a rosy red hue. “Oh! Now I know you are!” A vibrant girlish laugh burst from her as she said it.
Suddenly the man’s arm was there pulling the boy back and reining him in, the child still staring up at the woman, his mouth wide open in awe. “He’s not buying today … and neither am I.” He told the working lady using his most polite and inoffensive voice.
“That’s too bad. You don’t know what you’re missing,” she told him in a teasing tone.
“I’m sorry, that’s not what I’m here shopping for.” The man did seem genuinely regretful as he told her.
Standing there he couldn’t take his eyes off of her and doubted any man could. She wore a sheer cotton sundress that was cut low and revealingly clung to her lithe athletic body, a pair of sandals, a golden bangle on her left wrist, a faint hint of perfume, and nothing else at all. Her hair was a radiant mane that freely flowed to the small of her back before abruptly ending, her mouth a perfectly formed flower that seductively fluttered as she talked.
“Life’s like that, sometimes you go off looking for one thing and then find another, something you weren’t looking for at all.” She had by now turned all of her attention towards the man and she looked at him as if she had found a new toy. “I’m not very expensive, if that’s what’s worrying you. If you think about it I’m a bargain. A few ounces of silver, or a tiny bit of gold, they can buy you an evening that I promise you will never forget if you live to be a hundred.”
Although the man found himself tempted he still wasn’t buying. “I am sorry.”
“Too bad, I know we could have had some fun,” she told the man in a pouting voice while handing him a handmade business card. On the front in perfect penmanship was written her name and profession, “Monica – Good Times” and on the back simple directions to her home. “I have a place in town, very easy to find, if you should change your mind.” Noticing a potential customer impatiently standing behind them, she walked away giving the man a hungry look as she went, and as she left once again fleetingly caressed the face of the still blushing boy. “Bye Cutie!”
The vendor interrupted the man’s hypnotic daze, impatient for a sale. “Mister, you want this or not? You can have it for five dimes.”
The man turned back to the seller like coming from a dream, “You know anything about that woman?”
“Woman? Monica?” A knowing grin grew on the vendor’s face. “Monica is a nice lady.”
“Seems like a setup to be robbed, or worse.” Ugly reality was starting to invade the man’s dream. “You go over to her house and someone knocks you in the head. Then you wake up with everything you own gone.”
“Mister you’ve got it all wrong. Monica is a nice lady and a professional too. The people of this town wouldn’t let her stay here if she weren’t. She’ll give you everything she promised, everything you paid for and more, or so I’ve heard. I wouldn’t know because she’s selective too, she won’t take just any man’s money. I’ve been trying to get her to take mine for nearly two years now.”
The man turned and watched the beauty walking away then looked down at her card and once more detected the faint fragrance of her perfume. He didn’t know if the delicate scent was on the card or in his mind.
The vendor was becoming worried again, “All right, you can have it for four dimes.”
The man then looked down at Joshua who continued to watch her walk away. He took his hand and gently closed the mouth of the still awestruck boy.
As they made their way through the tables and the day was slowly unwinding, the man turned back to see Joshua lagging far behind. One particular vendor and her wares had caught the boy’s attention. Now he stood there unable to move from the spot.
In a small child’s swimming pool lined with old carpet were all the seller was selling, seven downy, whitish yellow puppies all bouncing, jumping and frolicking around. Right next to the seller was another friendly, older dog enjoying having her head rubbed. Although more golden in color, she was obviously their mother. Behind her was a sign that revealed she and her progeny were purebred yellow Labradors, “always domesticated - never wild.”
The child remained frozen, staring. The man told him that in past times dogs were friendly and lived with people but he had never seen one.
The man addressed the vendor lounging in an old folding lawn chair next to her dog. With one hand she was stroking her pet and the other holding a tattered old horror paperback, King, and watching the child watching her pups.
“We’re not buying, but do you mind if he pets one?”
A kindly looking woman, her long auburn hair now heavily streaked with gray, promptly stood up and put her book on the chair, spine up, and opened to the page she was saving. “You know, I used to love his books, still do. They used to scare me to death … but now after all of this, not so much.” She picked up one of the pups and walked right to the still mesmerized boy. “Would you like to hold him? What’s your name?”
The boy just stood there unable to take his eyes off the small squirming yellow mass she held there in her arms.
The man intervened for the voiceless boy, “His name is Joshua. This is the first time he’s seen a dog. I mean a tame one.”
The woman stretched her arms offering the still writhing puppy out to the child. “Would you like to pet him? You can hold him if you want.”
Finally the boy turned, looking for permission from the man.
“It’s all right Joshua, you can pet him. It’s okay. You can hold him if you want to.”
He cautiously reached out and scratched its head, and while the pup was licking on his hand a huge smile formed there on the child’s face.
The woman extended the pup out further to the boy, “Here, take him. Go ahead.”
With care, the child reached out and took the dog from her, holding it to his chest, the pup wiggling in his arms and licking his face the entire time. Soon enough came a wonderful music to the man’s ears, the sound of a boy giggling, that sound of a happy child.
The man and the vendor stood there talking a while, the boy sitting on the ground with a very special toy playing back. After a time, and not long enough for the boy, he interrupted.
“Joshua, we have to be going. Give him back.”
The child stood up with his new friend in his arms, offering it back to its rightful owner. “Thank you young man,” and she walked back, returning the pup to its siblings.
The boy looked up at the man, unmistakably disappointed.
“You know why we can’t keep him?”
“Yes …”
The man led the heartbroken child away, grateful that he was mature enough to understand.
Late in the afternoon and not too far from the end, he found the very last item he was seeking, a brand new toothbrush still in its box. Over the years, and much to the child’s frustration, the man made sure they both brushed their teeth each and every day. The man had never liked going to the dentist. But in this new world what he dreaded more than a trip to the dentist was not having one to go to at all.
The previous spring he bought the child his own little pack. Not much and not too heavy. Enough to carry his few books and toys, his own toothbrush, and most important a little responsibility, something he thought the boy was old enough to learn. But the only thing the boy would lose was toothbrushes, two in just a year, and now the man had to wonder if it was an accident at all.
As they were leaving for the day the man noticed yet again that young Christian farmer looking for a wife. He stood there at the front gate having a pleasant conversation with a young lady, about twenty, who most definitely looked like she was interested in what he was selling. After watching the two playfully flirting, the man considered it again and felt a little more optimistic about it all. Even after the end of the world
people still had to get on with their lives.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Plodding along in the late day sun, the man was already tired and considered making an early day of it. They could go another hour, probably two, but he thought to not push his luck. More to the point he just didn’t feel like going any further and sometimes that was enough. With their encounter with Thompson’s group he was much more cautious now. He conceded that his cavalier attitude could have easily gotten him killed, the boy’s fate unthinkable, if they had met up with less sociable people.
The boy was walking about fifty feet ahead. He had along the way picked up a fallen branch and was using it to curiously probe the terrain all around him. Occasionally the stick would become a sword in a make believe sword fight, the boy defending himself against some unseen foe. The child had plenty of time for exciting adventures as he lazily shuffled along waiting for the man to catch up.
But the man wasn’t catching up. By this time he was looking for a place to stop for the night. He was already looking forward to dinner, a card game or maybe just a talk with the boy. Just a quiet and enjoyable evening relaxing before they had to get going again early the next morning. The more he considered it the more he liked the idea. It was something he and Joshua seldom had a chance to do.
The boy completely stopped, letting the man slowly close the distance between them, the child unsuccessfully trying to hurry him along with his frustrated calls to “Come on!” They then walked a while together with the man finally stopping when he knew they found a good place to end the day.
It was a short meadow nuzzled between two modest hills nearly enclosed on both sides. The hills in fact hid the meadow and anyone observing from a distance would have no idea it was there. At the far end was a long dead and fallen silver maple that would provide plenty of fuel to fend off the cool night air. They slowly crossed the meadow, at last arriving at the other side. Without delay, the man began taking off his load and announced to the boy, “This is it! Let’s take the rest of the night off!”
The man was eagerly anticipating a long relaxing evening and now the boy was too. But there were of course chores to do at first, checking the perimeter to make sure they were truly alone, setting their traps, collecting the wood and building the fire, and finally making their beds for the night.
And then came supper.
The man and the boy sat around the fire enjoying a good meal and their own good company. The meal consisted of half a rabbit and a can of five-year-old “Beanie Weenie.” For desert there were some dried apricots that had been included in a care package Amy Helton had given them, the man slowly savoring each delicious mouthful and the boy doing his best to imitate him.
They sat there after the hardy meal treasuring that feeling of being full, satisfied, a feeling he and the boy rarely got to know.
After a while the boy wanted to hear a story and the man recited, to the best of his memory, a few of Aesop's Fables he heard as a boy. The child was delighted and lay there on his stomach staring up at the man, intensely listening and watching the words come from him. The man enthusiastically performed all of the boy’s favorites, including “The Fox and the Grapes,” “The Tortoise and the Hare” and “The Ant and the Grasshopper.” The latter being a particular favorite as the child just loved to hear the man speak as the grasshopper, the boy excitedly laughing every time he did. The man did not perform “The Boy Who Cried Wolf” as he remembered it was Joshua’s least favorite, the child hiding his eyes and covering his ears every time the wolf “gobbled the boy up.”
They ended their night of leisure playing a few games of “Go Fish” which was the boy’s favorite, every hand he somehow miraculously won. Then they both brushed their teeth with the only toothbrush they owned. The man then wrapped up the tired but happy child preparing him for a long restful night.
The man awoke to the clear night sky. It wasn’t daylight yet and he checked his watch for the time, the watch revealing with its soft green glow that it was 4:39. The man got up to relieve himself behind the dried out shell of that once magnificent tree. Returning to the warm comfort of his bed, he thought he could hear the sound of shouting far off. He stopped and stood there completely still, wondering if he had heard the sound or only imagined it. He only waited briefly for an answer as he heard the faint sound again and it seemed to be coming from north of their campsite. Snatching up his binoculars and pistol he silently made his way to the crest of the north facing hill. Lying down in the grass on top, in mere moments he found the source of the commotion.
He could see a fire and around it were three people, two women and a man. He knew they could only have been there a few hours. He was sure they weren’t there when he checked before. The man and one of the women were arguing. They were about three hundred yards away, too far to understand anything they were saying. If it hadn’t been for the strained pitch of their voices piercing the night air, he wouldn’t have heard them at all. They had stopped for the evening next to an old county highway. An old road sign close by was easy to see, brightly illuminated by their fire. The rusted and bent over sign read “HWY 11.”
The man then wondered if they might see his fire. He didn’t think they could. His seemed effectively blocked by the hill between them but he decided to not take the chance. He ran back to their camp, kicking the fire out and unintentionally waking the boy.
“What’s happening? Is it time to get up?” the boy sleepily asked as he reluctantly tried to set up.
“No … go back to bed. You can sleep a little more,” the man tenderly told him as he took his own blanket and wrapped it snugly around the boy. He then gave him a drink from his canteen and with that the child happily complied, returning to his quiet slumber.
With the boy asleep once more, the man put on his coat and returned to his place on the hill while dragging his sleeping bag behind. The couple was now in the last throes of their quarrel and it appeared to be winding down for the night. The second woman was sleeping on the ground next to a wheelbarrow and it seemed to be filled with all of their possessions. The man got settled in a comfortable position knowing he would be there the rest of the night.
The man awoke and silently cursed himself as he could clearly see it was nearly sunrise, the delicate morning light already illuminating the countryside. He had dozed off again and in the interim the three had picked up their possessions and moved along. He scanned the campsite and could find no evidence of their existence remaining except the dwindling fire. With his binoculars he searched the landscape, finally seeing the faint image of the three and their wheelbarrow disappearing over the horizon.
Out of curiosity the man wanted to check out the campsite and at first thought of rousing the boy. But the child was still peacefully dreaming. He could go there and back with enough time left to start their morning meal, all before the boy awoke.
Getting up, the man tucked his pistol in his waistband and with a quickened pace made his way towards the deserted site, the light trail of smoke from their dying campfire pointing the way in the morning sky.
He cautiously approached the abandoned campsite and at first thought all they left behind were the smoldering remnants of a fire. But then off to the right the man saw something had been dumped in a shallow ditch beside the road. It was a large and heavy black plastic bag, the same type he used when collecting fallen leaves every autumn.
The man walked up to it wondering what they might have left behind. It was obviously of no value to them, whatever it was, or possibly it was just too cumbersome to drag along. He hoped it might be something he could use or at the very least be able to trade with. He questioningly touched the shapeless black lump with the toe of his boot. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was but knew it did not feel “right.” He knelt down next to it and with his fingers felt the object inside through the heavy plastic of the bag, and when he realized what he was touching felt a sickened sensation deep down inside.
It felt like a little arm, a little hand.
The man suddenly sprang up and took a step back, putting distance between himself and the foreboding, unmoving form. But he never once stopped looking at it, his eyes unconsciously drawn to the gruesome question inside. He then pulled his knife and while thumbing the blade open cautiously stepped forward again. He stood there looking at it for the longest time. He knew what was in the bag and yet he didn’t want to know. He thought about just leaving, walking away from it and heading back to the boy. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep ever again if he didn’t know. Then again he wouldn’t be able to sleep if he did. After what felt like forever trying to decide, the man finally knelt down with his knife, splitting the plastic right up the middle, slicing it from end to end. He then opened up the bag with the soft morning light slowly revealing the contents inside. He prayed to God that it wasn’t what he thought. But to his unsurprised horror he could see he had been right all along.
It was a boy, about eight or nine years old, only a year or two older than Joshua. He looked perfectly preserved and the man knew he had only been dead a few hours. He lay in the bag naked, curled in the fetal position, and with the exception of bruising around his throat you could have been easily fooled into thinking he was only sleeping, his peaceful countenance a despicable lie. But he wasn’t sleeping, he was dead. Some monster had strangled him to death in the night and discarded his body on the roadside, about fifty-five pounds or so of unwanted trash.
The man felt rage. That’s all he could feel at that second as it swallowed him up whole. In his years traveling he had to kill on several occasions, and never liked doing it, but he did what was required to survive. His conscience was partially relieved in knowing that those he killed were trying to kill him. He was only defending his life. But looking down on a slaughtered innocent boy he finally knew that he could willfully commit murder, if given the chance. To his shame he also knew he would thoroughly enjoy it.
Joshua (Book 1) Page 29