As the Ash Fell

by AJ Powers

  “Well, I’ll be! I haven’t seen one of these in ages. But you know that this gun is worthless without ammo. I haven’t seen a .22 long rifle cartridge in probably five years now.”

  Clay took off his backpack and plopped it on the counter as well. The loud thud made Margaret—who was organizing some items on the other side of the room—jump.

  “How many do you have?”

  “Three and a half bricks.”

  Watson nodded, “I tell ya what. For the rifle, ammo, and coffee, I can give you 15 pounds of beef, and that’s the max I can do.”

  “Jake, come on, 15 pounds isn’t gonna cut it. That wouldn’t even last one person halfway through winter.”

  “Sorry, Clay, but I gotta make sure that people around here can eat too.”

  This time, Watson had the advantage. Even though he wanted what Clay had, he was willing to let Clay leave with them. Clay, on the other hand, wasn’t leaving without something.

  Clay slumped his shoulders and nodded. “All right.”

  Watson promptly went to the back and packed the meat into a small plastic cooler with some ice, a courtesy few people received from Watson. He returned with the cooler and something in a small plastic bag, “Here’s your beef,” he said and put the cooler on the counter. He handed Clay the plastic bag, “I feel for you Clay, I really do, so I wanted to give you a little something extra. Sorry it’s not more.”

  Clay looked inside and saw a whole frozen chicken. He stuck out his hand and said, “Thank you, Jake.”

  He said goodbye to Watson and Margaret and left for home. He knew he had just been screwed, but he left with a lot more food than he arrived with. He was going to miss that 10/22—a gift from his father on his 13th birthday. He still had another brick of .22 back home and a drop-in bolt carrier group that would convert his M4 to shoot .22LR. It would have to do.

  On his way home, Clay kept a watchful eye for game, but there was nothing worth shooting. He hadn’t seen any large game since Charlie bagged that hog. That worried him. He did see a rabbit, but he only had the .308 with him and wasn’t going to waste a shot on something that would likely be vaporized upon the bullet’s impact.

  He returned from his trip and went straight to the kitchen. Megan was already there sitting at the table and sewing some torn clothes.

  She noticed the cooler and bag in his hands. “What’d you get?” she eagerly asked.

  He opened the cooler and pulled the chicken out. She was elated to see poultry, something they hadn’t really had in quite some time. Overall, she thought Clay had a good trade, though she didn’t quite understand the significance of parting with the .22 rifle.

  The extra meat would provide some buffer, though, and afforded Clay some time to come up with a better long-term plan. Even with Watson’s food, they had no chance of surviving the long winter.

  Clay plopped down in the chair across from Megan and leaned back. With blank eyes, he stared up at the ceiling. To say Clay was exhausted was an understatement.

  Winter, as stressful and mentally draining as it could be, provided Clay opportunities to get physical rest. Trips out were held to a bare minimum and close to home. Usually by this time of year, he had all of his affairs in order and would be able to take a few days to recover from the busy weeks prior. But life seldom went as planned.

  “I’ve gotta go east,” he said.

  “What? Why?”

  “There’s nothing around here to hunt, and east is the only direction I haven’t really scavenged before. Plus, I can swing by Uncle Ted’s. Who knows? Maybe he’s still alive and can help us.”

  Megan’s worried look didn’t exactly motivate Clay. Going east was a bad idea even in the best of weather. The dangers were numerous, and the frigid winter compounded the risk. Not only had Clay never traveled such a distance alone, but he had never really been out traveling in October. The thought of going was daunting to say the least, but he was out of ideas.

  “I’m leaving first thing in the morning.”

  Megan knew further objection would be fruitless and continued sewing while Clay went to pack. He had no idea what he was going to take; he had no idea what to expect. He started by attaching an extra magazine pouch to his vest and loaded them up for a total of six extra M4 magazines, instead of the usual three. A look down at his boots with at least a half dozen holes in each told him extra socks would be essential. He grabbed smaller items—such as matches, tinder, and food—and rolled them up with the socks to save space and keep the items as dry and protected as possible. He filled his hydration pack and retrieved a few extra bottles of water. Megan had given him a few packets of powdered sports drink mix which would be crucial for replenishing lost electrolytes, even in the middle of winter. He also had rolled up a thermal sleeping bag which he tied to his pack. It was bulky and added a couple extra pounds of weight, which was why he didn’t typically bring it along for his normal travels. But traveling in winter was anything but normal.

  Aside from that, he had his normal every day carry (EDC) items: first aid pack, emergency rations, extra boxes of ammunition, and survival supplies. He laid his supplies out on the conference table and glanced over them; it didn’t feel like it would be enough. He wanted to take more, but he had to travel as light as he could. It was going to be at least four solid days, maybe more, of hiking to reach Ted’s place. Then he’d have to try and scavenge, and if he were lucky, track down some food. He needed to keep plenty of room in his pack for any food he might be fortunate enough to score.

  He walked over to make sure his MP3 player was charged and then heard a knock on the door.

  “Hey Clay,” Charlie said. “Can I come in?”

  “Sure, Charlie, what’s up?”

  Charlie walked over, his rifle slung over his shoulder; it was always on him, which Clay liked to see. He looked at all the items Clay had laid out on the table, “You’re leaving again, aren’t you?”

  Clay nodded. He realized that he hadn’t really taken much time to spend with Charlie since Bethany’s birthday. For that matter, he hadn’t seen any of the kids very much. He knew that Charlie was concerned, especially now that winter had begun, but he didn’t have the time or energy to feel bad.

  “Look, Charlie, I am going to be gone for a while. Two, maybe three weeks.”

  Charlie looked down at the floor, “Oh.”

  Clay didn’t want to say it, but knew he had to be blunt. “I am not going to lie to you about this. You’re old enough to know that there’s a chance I might never come back,” he said solemnly.

  Charlie, still looking down, nodded.

  “I know there’s still a lot that I haven’t taught you, and hopefully we can pick up right where we left off when I get back, but I need to know,” Clay interrupted himself, “Charlie look at me.” Charlie slowly raised his head and locked eyes with Clay. “Can I trust you to take care of the family?”

  “Yes sir,” Charlie said with a mumbled voice, but clear enough to understand.

  Without saying anything else, Charlie left and returned to his room. Clay wanted to sit down and talk with him more, but he had to get things ready for the morning. Megan had dinner ready around five and gave Clay twice the amount he would normally be served. He didn’t like that she used more food on his behalf, but he needed every bit of energy he could get. Clay went back to his room shortly after and lay down in bed. He started reading a book he had actually read for a book report some years ago; it was as boring now as it was back then, and as he had hoped, it helped him fall asleep quickly. Despite his angst, he slept soundly.

  Chapter 16

  Charlie rubbed his quads as he sat in his bed, utterly exhausted from the past 48 hours. Clay had postponed his trip to tie up some vital loose ends that he had neglected to take care of first. He enlisted Charlie to help share some of the workload. They spent nearly 12 hours yesterday carrying water from a nearby stream into the parking garage at the bottom of the building. They carried back 200 gallons in various sized conta
iners over the course of 15 trips. The stream was a mile and a half away with some inclines on the return trip when their load was at its heaviest. And with every trek back, they had to play their cat and mouse game before going home, adding at least an extra half mile to the journey. Charlie was thankful that they didn’t have to carry the water up the 16 flights of stairs. Two years ago, Clay had installed a pulley system in the elevator shaft that could haul up fourteen gallons at a time. It was one of the many tasks Clay did on a weekly basis which gave him an intense upper body workout. While Clay was gone, however, it would be up to Charlie to hoist the water from the garage and filter it for consumption.

  Charlie winced as his thumb slid over a tight knot in his thigh. He felt sorry that Clay was leaving dark and early in the morning and would be walking over 60 miles in the next few days. An intimidating task in pleasant weather; a nightmare in the winter.

  He looked down at the watch on his wrist and saw it was pushing midnight. Clay had given him the watch earlier that morning. It was one of those watches that was powered by light and didn’t use a battery, which turned out to be a pretty important feature in recent years.

  Unable to sleep, he made his way down to the armory to clean and oil his M1. Clay had lifted all of Charlie’s restrictions of coming and going from the armory. He had more than proven himself responsible. His free access was a privilege and trust unlike any other for Clay, and Charlie took that honor seriously.

  Satisfied with the near-white patches coming out of the bore, he cleaned up and began to reload some 9MM bullets. It wasn’t the first time he had done it on his own, so he dove right in, confident but careful.

  About an hour into it, the door open.

  “You’re up early,” Clay said as he approached the bench.

  “Haven’t been to sleep yet.”

  Clay gave him a surprised look but understood how Charlie must be feeling. All of the responsibility that rested on Clay’s shoulders would be transferred to this young man for the next couple of weeks, perhaps indefinitely. Nobody felt good about the trip, and the fact that Clay was leaving even later than he had planned made everyone a bit more nervous. Winter’s first big storm always came randomly in early October, and it had yet to come. They had hoped it would hold off over the next two weeks, but that would be the latest start to the winter since the ash began to fall. No one was optimistic about that possibility.

  Clay randomly selected three bullets from Charlie’s “finished” pile. He reached for the calipers and measured each of the three bullets. “1.125,” he read off the measurements on each of the bullets. “Spot on there, Charlie. Good work.”

  Charlie cracked a half smile, “Thanks.”

  Clay started moving about the room to collect some items while Charlie continued to reload.

  “You should have left back when you said you were going to,” Charlie said.

  Clay continued to sift through some boxes on the floor. He had planned on leaving two days ago. “That would have been irresponsible for me to do.”

  Charlie shrugged.

  “Charlie, it’s my responsibility to make sure my family is cared for. If I had left, you guys would have run out of water before the end of the week. Then you would have had to go get all that water by yourself and haul it back.” Clay walked over and put his hand on Charlie’s shoulder, “And I know you would have done it too. You’re a hard worker, Charlie, and I have no doubt you will step up for our family while I am gone. But it would have been unfair for me to leave you that and everything else I should have taken care of weeks ago. It’s not what I would expect from you, so I certainly don’t expect it from myself. You get what I’m saying?”

  Charlie shrugged his shoulders again, “Yeah, I guess.”

  Clay gathered the rest of his things and walked over to the door, “I’m heading out in about 10.”

  It was almost 3:30. Clay would be leaving while the Screamers were still out. It was a calculated risk. He wanted to get as far as he could before the first night. Trying to cross Devil’s Canyon was foolish to do once the sun went down, and if he didn’t leave soon he wouldn’t have enough daylight left to get across.

  Charlie cleaned up, slung his rifle over his shoulder, and locked up. He heard Clay and Megan whispering in the kitchen as he stumbled towards his room. Clay was scarfing down a big plate of eggs to fuel up for the journey. It would be his last hot meal for quite some time.

  Clay ate the last few bites of the eggs, followed it down with a glass of water, and then stood up, “Welp, time to head out.”

  Charlie and Megan followed him to the stairwell. His pack was leaning against the wall next to the door filled to the brim with supplies and food that he would likely go through before reaching his destination. He grunted as he picked it up and threw it over one shoulder and then the other. He grabbed his M4 and placed the sling around his neck.

  Megan’s eyes had started to well up, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Please be careful, little brother,” she said as if he was considering otherwise.

  “I will do my best,” he said before shifting his attention to Charlie. “All right, dude. You’re the man here. I expect you to keep everyone safe. This is your fortress; defend it at all costs.”

  “Yes sir,” Charlie said assuredly.

  Clay stuck out his hand and firmly shook Charlie’s, then gave him a tap on the shoulder. He looked back at Megan. “You’re in good hands, Megs,” he said and then winked at Charlie.

  Megan scoffed, “I hate that name.”

  “I know. I can’t believe I forgot that I used to call you that. I’ll be sure to do it more,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Don’t be such a jerk!” she said as she slugged him on the shoulder. “Now get out of here before Charlie and I make you stay.”

  Clay gave a lazy salute and started his descent to the bottom of the building. Megan locked the door behind him.

  “I am going to try and get back to sleep before Bethany wakes up,” Megan said to Charlie. “You should go back to sleep, too.”

  He nodded and returned to his room. It took him another hour to fall asleep, but, once he did, he slept like a rock.

  Charlie opened his eyes and would have guessed it wasn’t a minute past six had he not seen the muted light of day coming through the filthy windows in his room. It was almost 2:30, and he was surprised he had slept in so late. Charlie couldn’t remember the last time he woke up so refreshed. He had a busy day ahead of him, what was left of it anyway. He thought about just taking it easy for the day and start working hard tomorrow, but he remembered that Clay didn’t do that the last two days. And now, Charlie was filling those shoes. He knew he needed to set a good example for Tyler and Blake.

  Megan was in the kitchen cleaning up from lunch. Bethany was napping, and the other kids were in the craft room.

  “Good morning, sleepy head,” Megan said with tired eyes.

  Charlie gave a lazy wave and looked around for something to eat. Megan handed him a bowl of stew, one of his favorites, though it was missing the carrots. The taste of beef was a nice change from the typical venison stew.

  He quickly ate the chunky soup and finished it off by drinking from the bowl as if he was slurping milk after cereal. With no time to waste, he immediately got to work. The first thing he did was stretch his quads by pedaling the battery bike for about 15 minutes to bring it back to a full charge. Last night had been relatively warm, only dipping into the upper 30s, so they didn’t use the heater much. The solar panel would take care of the minor electrical use throughout the day.

  As Charlie was heading to the armory, Tyler came running down the hall in tears. “Tyler, what’s wrong, buddy?” Charlie asked.

  “S-S-S-Sarah punched me,” Tyler cried, his lower lip quivering.

  Sarah came running down the hall to give her side of the story, “Only because you stole my red crayon!”

  Charlie had them both come over to him.
He knelt down in front of them to talk to them like Clay would, except when Charlie knelt down, the kids stood taller than him, so he got back up. “Sarah, you shouldn’t’ve hit Tyler. You were wrong to do that,” he said with an effort to imitate Clay’s voice. “And Tyler,” he added, “you were wrong to take her crayon without her permission. That’s called stealing.”

  Tyler was remorseful and nodded his head.

  “While Sarah was wrong to hit you, her action was a direct consequence from your action, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” he murmured.

  “All right,” Charlie said as he put his left hand on Sarah’s shoulder and his right on Tyler’s, “I want you two to apologize and hug.”

  Sarah made the first move and squeezed Tyler tight. “I’m sorry Tyler,” she said.

  Tyler reciprocated and apologized as well. The two skipped off back to the craft room eager to get back to work. Charlie turned around and saw Megan smiling; she had observed the confrontation from down the hall. Charlie was slightly embarrassed and didn’t know how to respond. He walked down the hallway towards her. “Kids!” he said shaking his head as he passed by.

  Megan began to laugh loudly, “You’re too funny, Charlie!”

  It was good to hear her laugh, Charlie thought. Ever since the freezer had broken, Megan had been very quiet; she hadn’t quite been herself. She tried to mask it, and maybe the other kids had bought into the façade, but she seemed scared and that worried Charlie. They both needed a good laugh.

  Charlie decided to fetch some more water while the weather was still fair. He made two trips, lugging an additional 28 gallons back home. He would do that each day the weather allowed.

  He took care of a few of the unfinished chores on the task list he had inherited from Clay. There was still plenty left to do, but he was exhausted. He felt good with what he had accomplished. It hadn’t been a tremendously productive day—he had slept through more than half of it—but he had marked off several things on the list, and that was way more industrious than what he originally wanted to do with his day.