Free Falling

by Susan Kiernan-Lewis

  “But he never came, Mom.”

  Seamus’s plan was for Dierdre to hold them off with the guns from inside the house. Then Seamus was to provide a distraction outside, facing down the gypsies, so that John could slip out the back.

  “You’re a brave lad, young John,” Donovan said, nodding at John. “You’re Da would be proud.”

  John nodded solemnly, but Sarah could tell Mike’s words were a balm to him. Donovan had come not forty minutes after John was found. He’d brought with him ten other people, five of them able-bodied men and the rest women and children.

  Donovan had wasted no time in clearing away the dead animal carcasses and bringing some order to the devastation. His men found what remained of poor Dierdre. They buried both her and Seamus that very night. Afterward, it was too late to do anything but build a campfire and create a bit of shelter against the night. His people pitched their tents in the paddock and set up their bedrolls in the barn. The women, silent as wights, prepared steaming pots of small-animal stew that simmered on flat rocks in the campfire.

  Sarah could not take her eyes off John. She watched him hungrily as he walked the camp, staying mostly with Donovan and Gavin. Her preference would have been to keep him wrapped in her arms. Her terror was too newly lived to be discounted by the fact of his existence. She now knew the sharp agony of the terrible loss of him and it was even worse than she’d ever imagined. Her joy to have him delivered back to her was tempered by the knowledge of how vulnerable they all were.

  David.

  She closed her eyes in exhaustion and held her hands to her face. She jerked her head up to see where John might be and discovered that Donovan had quietly sat down next to her.

  “Whoa, didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. He was holding out a metal cup in his hands.

  “You didn’t,” Sarah said. “I just…” She shook her head and nodded toward where John and Gavin squatted near the fire. “I’m never going to feel safe again.”

  Donovan held out the cup to her and she drank from it without thinking. It was some kind of homemade alcohol and burned all the way down her throat. The pain felt good and almost instantly she felt some of the edge of the day creep away.

  “Nor none of us, that’s the truth,” Donovan said with a heavy sigh. “I am so sorry we didn’t get here in time.”

  Sarah turned to look at him.

  “What a nice man you are,” she said.

  That made him smile and he took a pull from a flask he’d been holding in his hand.

  “You brought all these people here to help us.” She took another sip and let the alcohol do its work. She closed her eyes, willing the drink to calm her and not open up the floodgates of emotion as was all too likely.

  “Well, to be honest, we’re family, you see,” he said. “All of us related in some way.”

  One of the women approached. She wore baggy jeans and a tired smile. Her hair was gathered back in a single braid down her back. She handed Sarah a bowl of stew and a dented spoon.

  “You’ll be hungry,” she said.

  Sarah glimpsed over the woman’s shoulder at John who was eating and laughing with Gavin. She shook her head in wonder and accepted the warm bowl.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for everything.”

  “Sure, it’s nothing,” the woman said. “I’m Fiona, Mike’s big sister.” The woman knelt down across from Sarah. “We’ve heard a good bit about you from Siobhan and the others. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

  “I guess we’re famous,” Sarah said. She spooned into the stew. “Those crazy Americans—coming to the remotest point on the globe so they can give up electronics and live the simple life.”

  Fiona frowned. “Sure, I’m not positive we are the remotest point on the globe,” she said wryly.

  “Sorry,” Sarah said. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Fi’s just giving you a hard time,” Donovan said, frowning at his sister.

  Fiona ignored him. “Has Mike told you the news yet?”

  Sarah snapped her head to look at Donovan. “What news?”

  “Can you not let the woman have two mouthfuls before agitating her?” Donovan said to his sister.

  “There’s news?” Sarah repeated.

  Donovan took in a big sigh. “Now’s as good a time to give it, I guess,” he said. He jerked his head at Fiona. “Gather the others. I don’t want to say this twice.”

  Fiona picked up Sarah’s bowl from the ground where she’d laid it, winked at Sarah and left.

  “Is it good news?”

  “Were you expecting good news?”

  “I…I guess…I’m always hopeful that…” Sarah was at a loss for words.

  “That maybe help was coming?” Donovan said gently. “That any day now the Irish government would roll up with an aid truck busting full of food and jam, or that they’d get busy replacing the power lines?”

  “Yes, actually.”

  Donovan shook his head.

  “Look,” he said, “before the others get here I need to know what you want to do about the problems you’ve had here.” He glanced in the direction of the burnt house, now just a black shadow towering eerily in the background.

  “What I intend to do?” she echoed.

  “I mean, I assume you will be coming with us? There’s no real need to stay now, is there? Your animals are gone, your house is gone.”

  Your husband is gone.

  Sarah stared at him for a minute with her mouth open.

  “You should come with us,” he continued. “We’re building a community. We’ll watch each other’s backs and plant food and rebuild our little patch of the country. It will be safer for you with us. There’s a place for you and the boy if you want to come.”

  “I can’t leave,” Sarah said.

  “For the love of God, why not?” Donovan sputtered in frustration. “You have nothing left here. Will you be living out of the barn? Why would you stay?”

  “Because,” Sarah said, coolly, her voice as steely and flat as the heart that beat in her breast, “the bastards will be back.” She looked at Donovan. “And this time I’ll be ready for them.”

  Now it was Donovan’s turn to stare.

  “You want them to come?” he said, his face twisted in confusion.

  “I don’t understand you,” Sarah said, standing up and brushing the dirt from her jeans. “They have destroyed my home, threatened my child, possibly murdered my husband and definitely murdered my friends and I’m supposed to walk away? I don’t know how you do things in Ireland, but we are not finished here. Not by a long shot.”

  After a pause, Donovan broke into a wild laugh that had the approaching group of men and women walk even faster toward them.

  “You’re crazy,” he said. “But thank you, Jesus, you have fulfilled every myth and fantasy I have ever had about how you Americans think. It really isn’t just the movies, is it? This is how you Yanks really are.”

  “So you’ll help me?”

  “God help me, I guess I will,” he said, turning to the crowd who gathered around him.

  “Alright, listen up,” Donovan said to them, “I’ve got news and it’s not pretty.”

  Sarah looked at the motley group of men and women standing in the forecourt of her holiday cottage. They were ragged and thin and not terribly clean but their eyes were bright and intent.

  They’re survivors, she thought. Good people to have with you in a fight.

  One of the women held a baby in her arms and Sarah was amazed to realize that the baby must have been born after the incident. Without electricity or doctors or formula or baby monitors. She smiled at the young mother.

  John wriggled out of the crowd and came to stand next to her. Sarah was astonished and delighted to feel his hand slip into hers. For him to do it in front of everyone, she realized, meant he must be feeling insecure about what Donovan was about to reveal. She squeezed his hand and brought her full attention back to Mike.

 
; “We now know what happened,” he said tiredly. “And knowing it helps us to know how long we’ll likely need to live like this.”

  There were several gasps from the group and one “Sweet Jaysus!” Mike held up his hands for quiet and spoke solemnly.

  “Like I said, it’s not good news, but knowledge is power and we’ll do well to remember that.” He took a deep breath, glanced once at Sarah, and began.

  “David Cahill’s boy, Craig, made it to Limerick and back and he’s brought us news about what happened. Now, Craig’s not here to tell you himself because he sustained some injuries on the road and he…well, he’s passed as a result. So we’ll be thankful to young Craig and the good Lord above for letting him get back home before He claimed him.”

  The group murmured impatiently and it was all Sarah could do not to scream: What did he tell you?

  “Basically, what happened was this,” Donovan said. “There was a nuclear bomb dropped by some still unidentified terrorist group over London four months back. I don’t know all the gigawatts and gaggo-rays of what happened or why they didn’t just drop the bomb right on London and be done with it but it seems exploding it up in the air was even worse. And since we’ve all been affected by it, that would seem to be right.” Donovan took a deep breath as if he were still processing the information for himself.

  “The nuclear explosion basically took out everything in the UK that was electronic. And since all our cars, our phones, our computers, and our power grid uses electronics to run, the bastards basically bombed us back to the Stone Age and that’s the simple truth of it.”

  One of the men stepped forward.

  “Is it true the cities are radioactive like they said at first?”

  Donovan shook his head. “A rumor,” he said. “Not true.”

  We could have left, Sarah thought. It would’ve been safe to leave after all.

  “When are they going to fix it, then?”

  “Well,” Donovan said, “Craig said the Poms have their hands full with their own country and then they’ll think about helping us.”

  “Typical.”

  “Plus,” and here he turned to look at Sarah, “A nonnuclear missile destroyed a good part of Boston.” He turned to Sarah. “That’ll be what most of us saw on the TV last September. Where did you say your folks lived?”

  John spoke up, his voice shaking. “Florida.”

  Donovan nodded. “If what Craig said is correct, the American south is fine.”

  “Thank God,” Sarah whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “Washington?” she said.

  “It appears it was targeted but the bomb went off course and detonated over the Atlantic.”

  “Incompetent idiots,” someone shouted.

  Donovan addressed the man who spoke. “Maybe. But from where I’m standing, competent enough.”

  “How long to rebuild?” Someone asked.

  “They’re working on that now,” Mike replied.

  “Our country will help you,” John said.

  Donovan turned to him and the effort it took to smile seemed to weigh him down.

  “Your country is helping its friend England first,” he said.

  He listened to the general agreement from the crowd before speaking again.

  “The point of how this new information affects all of us here is this,” he said. He paused for a moment to make sure he had their attention. “Now we know for sure that there is no one coming,” he said grimly. “We are on our own and likely to be for years to come.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Dad was right.”

  John was trying to make his dog, Patrick, remain in the stay position. He would walk away from the dog but when he turned around, he was always right behind him. His mother sat watching him, a cup of steaming black tea in her hands. She had just been thinking about possibly preparing John for bad news about his father and wondering how much she should say.

  “What do you mean?”

  “About what happened. He said it was mostly likely an EMP.”

  “You’re right,” Sarah said. “He did say that.”

  John pointed a finger at the dog. “I said, stay, Patrick! I read about electromagnetic pulses in my Science News,” he said. “It, basically, like, shoots out a wave of gamma radiation in all directions—kinda like the electrical storms we get in Jax during the summer, only it wipes out everything electrical.”

  John released the puppy from the command and sat down next to Sarah in the dirt. “Dad called it.”

  The dog collapsed into his lap, nipping and licking at the boy’s sleeve.

  “Why didn’t you say something last night at the campfire?”

  “Seriously? Mom.” Her son looked at her as if she were being deliberately dense. “Adults don’t like smart-alecky kids makin’ ‘em feel stupid.”

  John used his finger to dig gunk out of his dog’s eyes before wiping it on his pant leg.

  “People like Mr. Donovan don’t care about why something happened, only that it happened. Me, I like to know about why. Dad does, too.” He shrugged.

  Sarah smiled at him. “How old are you again?”

  John looked up from grooming his dog. “Mom, now that everybody’s here, we’re gonna go look for Dad, right?”

  Sarah looked at him. “I’m just not sure where to start,” she said. “No one has even heard of this Julie person…”

  “You’re giving up?” John stopped brushing his dog.

  “No, of course not, John,” she said. “We’ll continue to look for him but…”

  How to say this? How to say “prepare yourself for the worse?” Was there any point in even saying that until the worst was actually confirmed?

  “But what?”

  “No buts. Sorry, sweetie.” She reached over and drew him to her.

  It was true what they said about the resiliency of children, Sarah thought. Like a lot of parents, she had worried about so many unimportant things in the past. When she thought of her concerns—concerns that actually kept her up at night!—about whether she should allow him to play football or if they should tell him his hamster died, she wanted to laugh outloud.

  Her concerns now centered on his very survival. And as for staying awake at night with her worries, she was too exhausted at the end of the long days. One thing she had learned: the coming day would take care of the coming day. If nothing else, that was a lesson that was ground into her head, her heart, her very bones.

  She watched as John jumped up and tossed a stick to the dog. She knew how much it hurt him to have lost the other dog, and how worried he was about his Dad. As Sarah watched him, she found herself marveling at how quickly he’d let go of the old ways and his old life. For him, that was then. This is now. And it was that simple.

  She suddenly realized how, in just a few short months, her son had morphed from a pampered child dependent on his electronics for amusement to a self-reliant boy comfortably adapting to a new world order that involved hard physical labor as well as cunning to survive.

  “We’ll never stop trying,” she said.

  “Until we find him,” he said, turning in her arms until they both faced the blacked hulk of their former cottage.

  “That’s right,” she said, her voice catching with emotion. “Until we find him.”

  So badly did she want to believe it, her heart literally ached in her chest.

  Dear God, had she really lost him forever? How was that possible? They had only gone on vacation.

  Later that afternoon, Sarah sat in one of the wagons parked on the perimeter of the camp and wiped down the Glock with a rag. She didn’t really know what she was doing but it made her feel like she was preparing in some way for the fight ahead. Fiona approached with two tin cups of tea.

  “May I join you?”

  “Of course, please do.”

  Sarah moved over to give her room.

  “I just wanted to say, I’m sorry for all your troubles,” Fiona said, settling in on the wooden seat next to Sarah.
“Mike told me you plan on staying here so’s you can fight the gypsies when they come back.”

  “Sound pretty nuts when you put it like that.”

  “He says you’re hoping we’ll stay and help you fight them.”

  “I can’t do it alone. I mean, it would be good for all of us, Fiona. You can’t start a new community looking over your shoulder.” She pointed to the blackened hulk of the cottage. “They’ll just come do this to you eventually.”

  “Possibly. But not straightaway.”

  Sarah shrugged. “You’re here now. Why not end it now?”

  “And then, afterward, you intend to come with us?”

  “I…where is it you’re going? Mike wasn’t too specific.”

  “We are creating a community, probably somewhere closer to the sea since most of the men are fishermen.”

  “Why not stay where you were?”

  “We’re from all over. There was no one place. Most of us didn’t own the land we lived on. And now the crisis has rewritten the rules of land ownership.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Sarah said, frowning at the woman. “I mean, you don’t expect the laws to return? Trust me, the McKinneys will collect on the insurance on this place before the year is out.”

  “I hope you’re right, but I doubt it.”

  “So you’re betting that this chaos is permanent?”

  Fiona looked down at her hands and took her time answering. “We feel it’s better to accept the worst,” she said, “than to live our lives on hold, constantly waiting for something to happen that maybe never will.”

  Was she referring to David?

  “So if you were to come with us,” she continued eagerly, “and I hope you do, we’ll find a place where we can all live.”

  “And watch each other’s backs.” Sarah nodded as if it made a lot of sense.

  “Well, that, sure, but also to enjoy each other too.”

  Sarah had already seen and admired how the group seemed to take pleasures from the simplest things. With Mike at the helm, it would definitely be a well-organized and judiciously run community.