by AJ Powers
“You’re still a little young, Charlie,” Clay continued.
“Geoffrey was the same age as me when he joined us, and you gave him a gun.”
Four years ago, Clay was first introduced to Geoffrey Sackenheim when they both had their guns pointed at each other. Clay had surprised Geoffrey as he walked into an abandoned—or so he thought—arcade and startled him as he slept, causing a brief standoff. From that point, they became good friends. Clay was only 16 himself, so the age difference wasn’t all that great. Geoffrey had been a great contributor to the family, and his presence was still missed.
“You’re forgetting that Geoffrey already knew how to use a gun,” Clay said as he knelt down and started loosening some screws on the under part of the solar panel.
“Yeah, so would I, if you would teach me.”
Clay was silent.
“How old were you when your dad taught you how to shoot?”
Clay thought about it and realized Charlie had him in check. “Well, I guess around the time I was five, maybe six.”
Charlie gave him a look of envy.
“Times were different back then, Charlie.”
“Yeah, people were nicer. They weren’t trying to kill you, which is why I need to know how to defend this family,” Charlie’s face was serious, his eyes displaying a wisdom most adults didn’t have. “Clay, you might go out one morning and never come back.”
When did this kid grow up? Clay thought to himself.
Charlie continued, “I didn’t have a dad to teach me those things, even before all this happened. If you die, then who will teach me? Who will teach Blake and Tyler?”
Checkmate.
“Plus,” he added under his breath, “I won’t abandon the family like Geoffrey did.”
“Hey!” Clay barked at him, “Geoff did not abandon the family. He has a wife. She’s his family now and his responsibility. There’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, that’s what he ought to do, even in an upside down world like this.”
Charlie shrugged, “He isn’t even old enough to smoke.”
“Takes more of a man to be a husband than to smoke a cigarette; age has nothing to do with it.”
Clay knew that this was more than just Geoff “abandoning” the family; it was Geoff abandoning Charlie. Even though Charlie and Clay were close, Charlie grew that much closer to Geoff in the two years he lived with them. Charlie knew that hurt before, and he had felt its sting again. Geoffrey had come by a few times since he left, and each time Charlie would retreat into his room or the rooftop to avoid him.
Clay continued to work on the panel, occasionally asking Charlie for help and explaining each step along the way so that Charlie could learn. It only took about 20 minutes to fix, and it was back to charging the bank. He knew the next storm that blew through would probably break it again, but for the time being it was fully operational.
“I’ll think about it,” Clay said ruefully. He knew there really wasn’t anything to think about. Charlie was right and that frustrated him. Clay had to grow up when he was only 13, and he was doing everything in his power to keep that weight from landing on Charlie. But it was going to happen, whether Clay liked it or not. Charlie was capable, willing, and responsible.
“And what does that mean?”
“It means,” Clay paused and thought best how to answer, “soon, Charlie. It means, soon.”
Charlie smiled.
“In the meantime, you keep on being a kid because those days are coming to a close.”
Charlie gave him a salute and went back to play tag with the others. Clay collected his tools and made his way back downstairs. His stomach was in knots thinking of Charlie having to defend the family. Taking a man’s life never got easier for Clay; he just learned to ignore the hesitation when it came time to do so.
As Clay was walking towards the lobby, he heard a familiar voice.
“Da-da!”
“Beth!” Clay shouted and crouched down to pick up his little girl as she clumsily ran to him.
Bethany wasn’t even two. She was only six months old when she became part of the family. She melted Clay’s heart, and he would do anything for her. Sometimes, though, he was overwhelmed with how much she reminded him of his youngest sister Colleen. He missed her.
He picked her up and she leaned in, giving Clay a kiss. “Someone took a long nap this morning,” Megan said standing in the doorway of the kitchen.
Bethany started sucking her thumb and looked over at Megan, giving her a subtle nod of agreement, not really knowing what she was acknowledging.
“Lunch will be ready in a few,” Megan added.
Clay inclined his head, telling Megan he had heard her and returned to the front conference room. He laid down on his bed for a few minutes and tried to clear his mind. He could hear muffled screams and laughter from outside as Megan wrangled the children for lunch. Those children were everything to Clay, as if they were his own blood. But he was tired, and sometimes he just wanted to be able to get away from it all. He hated that such selfish desires would flash through his thoughts, even if for just a moment.
His thoughts were interrupted with a quick knock on the glass door. He looked over and saw Paige waving him to come out for lunch.
“Be right there,” he answered.
She skipped across the lobby towards the hallway and disappeared into the kitchen with the rest of the kids. Clay eventually mustered enough energy to get to his feet and follow her.
After lunch, Clay spent the rest of the afternoon and evening doing various little chores around the house and getting ready for another trip. He hated being gone so much in a single week, but he’d told Vlad that he would stop by every couple of weeks until winter hit. Clay was waiting for a few key items Vlad promised to hold for him if they came in. But Vlad was a businessman and wouldn’t hold on to such high-valued items for long.
Back in the conference room, Clay inventoried the goods he planned to use for bartering with various merchants in Liberty. He regretted that he was unable to take the time needed to properly skin yesterday’s deer—the pelt would have fetched a hefty price.
In a perfect world…The thought made him chuckle.
He was cataloging his items on a small sheet of paper when he heard a soft knock on the door. Megan was standing in the doorway holding two plastic cups. “Heading to Liberty?” she asked.
“Yeah, it’s about that time. Been almost three weeks. Not gonna be too many more opportunities before winter hits.”
“You think he will have any antibiotics?” she asked with a gleam of hope in her eyes.
Clay shrugged. “Dunno. Hope so. It is a little late in the year, though. Most people see the temps start to drop and hang on to their pills like it’s a life preserver.”
They were both quiet as Clay started to pack his bag with the items he planned to trade.
“We’re not going to have enough food this winter, are we?” Megan said, breaking the silence. She immediately regretted saying that, knowing very well that Clay was already stressing to find a remedy to that problem.
Last winter had been brutal. They had all but run out of food and had begun rationing what was left. At one point, the kids were down to less than a thousand calories a day. Clay and Megan both took a little less than that. Clay was able to snare some rabbits and bag a coyote. The feral canine tasted awful but kept them alive. With winter just a month or so out and three more mouths to feed, they really needed a jolt to their reserves. The deer Clay had just killed would help, but he would need at least one or two more of those, a couple of hogs, and a slew of fruits and vegetables to make things comfortable for the winter.
He sighed and closed his eyes for a minute, as if to try and escape the question. “We’ll make it; we always do,” he said with uncertainty in his voice. He took a deep breath and looked at her with a genuine smile and said, “We’ll be all right.” This time with much greater confidence in his voice.
She smiled warmly. Even if she kn
ew he couldn’t promise such things, she always felt reassured by his confidence.
He looked over at the cups. Each cup was filled halfway with lemonade and a couple of cubes of ice. “What are the drinks for?” he asked before realization sunk in.
“Today is…” her voice trailed off, her glossy eyes looked away from Clay as she tried to fight back the tears.
“Michelle’s birthday,” Clay finished her sentence as he took one of the cups from her.
She wiped away a few tears from her eyes. “It would have been her sweet sixteen.” Megan reached up to twirl her hair—a habit she developed at a young age to deal with stress. But three months ago, she cropped her long locks leaving the only real length to hang above her eyes. Megan cut her hair to ease the time required for personal maintenance, but Clay could tell it was a sacrifice she regretted at times. When her fingers found no hair to twist, Megan breathed in deeply and slowly exhaled. “I miss her, Clay. I miss them all. Mom. Dad. Michelle. Emily…Colleen,” she began to cry. “I just wish I knew why all of this happened…” She trailed off.
The loss of all their siblings had been hard, but Michelle’s death was particularly difficult. The first winter they were in the office building Michelle had fallen ill with pneumonia. Megan was able to diagnose it, but without antibiotics and a genuinely warm place to sleep, they knew she wasn’t going to make it. Despite the grim prognosis, Michelle pulled through. It was truly a miracle. Then, not even two weeks after the thaw, she took a tumble down the steps while playing with some of the other kids and died instantly. Just like that, after a winter of fighting for her life and prevailing, she was suddenly gone.
Clay put his hand on Megan’s shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze. They sipped on lemonade made with individual portion packets—Michelle’s favorite—and reminisced about their family—both past and present.
Megan looked down at her watch, “Well, I better get the kids ready for bed.”
Clay raised his cup, “Happy birthday, Michelle.”
She clanked her cup to his, and they both finished their drinks. Megan held out her cup to collect Clay’s for washing. She gave him a hug and said, “I love you, brother. Glad you’re home safe…for now, anyway.”
Clay smiled. In such a cold, treacherous world, it was nice to have someone who worried about him.
Megan left the room, shouting for the kids to get ready for bed. Clay saw the boys all dart away from her like she was kryptonite. It was a nightly ritual for them, not one Megan particularly cared for.
Clay had to get a few things from the armory specifically for Vlad. It was against his better judgement to offer such coveted items for trade, but Clay was in need. He had bartered with his friend enough in the past to know which items Vlad would be unable to refuse, and if Vlad had what Clay desired, he wanted to be prepared for an even trade.
As Clay walked down the hallway, he heard Megan reading to the children. It was the same routine every night: read a passage from the book of Psalms and then a chapter from whatever novel they were reading. This month they were reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.
Clay listened as Megan finished the chapter and then said good night to all the kids. They all closed their eyes right away as if to fall asleep on command, but the whispers and giggles began as soon as both the adults walked out the door.
The room was completely dark, so Clay used a flashlight to make his way back out to the halls. Megan preferred the soft glow of a candle over the bright, sterile beam of the flashlight but never mentioned that to Clay.
“Goodnight, sis.”
Megan hugged him, “Night, Clay. Be safe! We will see you in two days, right?”
“Yep.”
Megan disappeared into her room as Clay slipped into the armory to retrieve the items he’d decided to trade. He returned to his room, climbed into bed, and flipped on his e-reader. Though he didn’t have that much time to dedicate to reading, he always enjoyed the few stolen moments he found, especially with his current book The Remaking. Clay wasn’t quite sure why he had never read The Remaking before the tremors began, but he was glad to have the entertainment.
After an hour, Clay forced himself to put the book down mid-chapter and go to sleep. His departure time would not wait for sunrise.
Chapter 4
The alarm shrieked callously, forcing Clay to scramble for the off button. He was convinced that it was, in fact, the most aggravating sound in the world. Effective, but aggravating. His eyes finally focused on the digital readout; it was 4:08. He must have been more exhausted than he realized if it took him eight minutes to notice the sound.
The glow of a waning electric lantern secured to the ceiling with a piece of paracord provided just enough light for Clay to dress. The fading gleam lasted just enough time for Clay to finish getting ready. He picked up his pack and rifle and headed for the kitchen.
Sitting on top of the freezer chest was a plastic bag with a few fruits and vegetables from his small rooftop greenhouse to use for trade. The potting shed wasn’t very impressive looking, but it worked well enough and kept residual ash off the plants during the storms.
As he grabbed the bag, he noticed a note Megan had left him: Portioned some of the venison and hog meat to take. Don’t forget your pack in the fridge.
Like a mother getting her kids ready for school, Megan would often put together a travel pack for Clay. When she didn’t, Clay would typically forget and only eat what he could pick or kill out in the field. Quick trips, such as the one he was about to begin, spared little time to hunt and gather, and Clay was grateful that Megan had thought of this ahead of time.
He grabbed everything from the kitchen and quietly made his way to the stairwell, careful not to disturb the sleeping children. Any loud sounds would easily echo throughout the floor, especially when there were no other sounds to muffle it, so Clay carefully closed the landing door and began his journey.
By the time he reached the last flight of stairs, his body had fully awakened, and he was ready for the daylong journey. His restful sleep had revitalized him, and he hoped his energy would last despite the additional weight of all the extra goods he planned to barter.
Before he exited the garage, Clay did a double check of his guns and gear, ensuring he had everything he needed for the trip. He racked the slide on his Sig Sauer P225 and holstered it. After powering up the EoTech, he yanked on the charging handle of the M4, chambering the first round. Ready to go, he walked outside and promptly closed and locked the door. He gave the padlock a couple of tugs to ensure it had engaged.
The frost on the grass was evidence of just how cold it had gotten last night, though it didn’t seem like the temperature had dropped quite as low as the night before. He moved slower and more cautiously for the first hour. Though it was getting late for the Screamers, he knew a couple would still be wandering around. A heartless shriek cut through the morning stillness, confirming Clay’s suspicions. It came from maybe 500 yards away—far enough that he wasn’t overly concerned but close enough to make the hair on his neck stand and the grip on his rifle tighten.
Dawn approached and the murky landscape began to illuminate. The total darkness cast from the moonless night—moonlit nights had become extinct—was quite nerve-racking. Though the sun was never very pronounced, its light was welcomed. Clay always felt relief once the sun came up.
As the morning drew on, he scavenged a couple of buildings that were along the way. He had already searched them several months earlier, so they were mostly empty. He did, however, find an old cane. He wasn’t sure if he just overlooked it the last time he was in the building or if perhaps somebody recently left it behind after seeking refuge for the night. In any event, it was his now. It needed a good cleaning but still maintained its integrity. It would bring a decent trade.
He made a short detour to the cabin to replenish some of the supplies he had consumed when staying there the other night. He took the opportunity to rest for a minute while sipping o
n some water. The added weight from his trades was taking a harder toll on his body than he anticipated, and he wanted to stay put. But he forced himself to move out anyway.
As always, he stayed off the major roads and did his best to steer clear of even small side streets, though that was often unavoidable. He sometimes wondered if he was being overly cautious in taking the extra travel time to avoid the highways but quickly dismissed such notions as laziness. There were just too many tactical disadvantages to traveling on the roads, especially alone.
Screamers were not the only threat he had to worry about. After seven punishing years, those who were still alive grew more desperate by the day. Doctors—those who once took an oath to do no harm—wouldn’t think twice before putting a .357 sized hole in someone for a few morsels of food. People who made a living helping less fortunate now preyed on them. It was sad, Clay often thought, to see such hopelessness in humanity. Yet, most of the people he ran into during his travels were either aggressive, or, more often than not, they looked utterly defeated. At first, Clay gave people the benefit of the doubt, but experience eventually taught him to be far more skeptical of anyone he didn’t know. Trust had to be earned.
Clay passed a burned out city bus on one of the side streets he took. It meant Liberty Township was just over five miles away. The sight of the charred public transportation always gave him a burst of energy that helped him pick up the pace.
The day’s journey was overall very smooth. He didn’t see another soul the entire trip, which was ideal. He preferred keeping to himself, or if he was going to meet someone new, doing so inside a place like Liberty. But that never stopped him from helping someone in need, which is why there were 10 kids back at home depending on him. Being an orphan himself, Clay had a soft spot for children walking around these deserted cities. He would never turn away a kid with nowhere to go.