“Whatcha doin’?”
“Trying to decide what to do with this plant.”
The little girl knelt beside her, “Grandmother showed me this one. It’s called ‘digee’...uhm, digee-tall-us...”
“Digitalis?” Jess asked.
“Yeah, digitalis.” The girl didn’t miss a beat, “For the heart, don’t eat it.” She recited, proud that she was able to remember. At four, the little girl’s memory was unbelievable; she could remember hundreds of plants, their names, and their uses.
Jess smiled, “That’s right, Teen, very good!” She gave the little girl a hug. “But we don’t need something like that; maybe I should just dig it up and get rid of it. I wouldn’t want Jacob getting his hands on it and eating it.”
Tina shook her head. Her mouth was streaked with red juice and tiny black dots of the strawberries she had eaten. Despite this, the basket was heaping with strawberries. “We should keep it, Jess, so’s we can be doctors and takes care of people when they’re sick. Put a fence ’round it, a metal one likes you got on the big fence.”
Jess looked at the girl with confusion for a moment until she realized Tina was referring to the chicken wire. Putting chicken wire around it made sense. She grabbed the rest of the roll and cut a piece that was big enough to prevent a short little baby hand from reaching the plant and placed it around the emerging plant.
“Good idea, sweetie.” She looked over at the girl again and asked, “So, you want to be a doctor?”
Tina nodded solemnly, “I am gonna be a doctor. Then I can go and fix Mama and Daddy and Erin and Grandmother an’ they can live with us again.” Jess winced in pain. She thought of her own parents. Then she hugged Tina close to her again. If the kid wanted to be a doctor, so be it; it sounded good to her.
Jacob gave a small squawk beneath his blanket. She had laid him between two layers of blanket next to her on the ground while he slept, but now he was awake and kicking. Tina gave a small crow of happiness; she loved holding Jacob, which made Jess a little nervous since she was so small and he was a hefty fifteen pounds or so now. “Can I hold him? Can I hold him?” she danced up and down with excitement.
She deflated like a popped balloon when Jess shook her head. “You’re all muddy, kiddo.” The girl’s sad expression was hard to take so Jess continued, “Later, sweetie, after you have washed up.” She dusted off her hands, picked up her son and cooed at him. He grinned back at her, his wide smile showing the one lone tooth in his mouth, and then he shoved his entire fist in to his mouth. “C’mon Jacob, you and me and Tina need to fix some lunch and figure out what to plant next.” The baby gurgled happily in response.
The rest of the front yard was slated to become an orchard. Already they had three trees, two peach and one apple, and Mr. Banks had come by a week earlier to tell her he had several three-foot apricot and apple saplings ready to transplant. “They’ll take a while, Jess,” the old man warned her, “A few years at least before you have any to harvest.” He came by regularly, bringing them extra items that would help make their lives easier, even volunteering to help with the roof later when it was time for repairs.
“Yes, I remember my dad planting the peach trees.” She looked up at them, noted the blooms, and hoped they would get a lot of peaches. “I’ll look forward to getting those and planting them, Mr. Banks. What can I give you in trade?” This was a phrase she had learned quickly. The jars of food, supplies of any kind, she had learned that these things came with a price. It was normal practice to ask what another would want in trade for such things. She had come to understand that even the food they had been given when they first arrived must be paid back. It made sense—for the community to survive they were given a helping hand—but they were expected to return the favor as soon as they were able.
Mr. Banks had looked uncomfortable when she asked the question. He’d looked at the ground with his big hands stuck in his overalls and shuffled his feet. After much hemming and hawing he had managed to explain that he was lonely. His wife Mary had died right before the invasion, his son Mark had died on the day of the invasion, his daughter-in-law, Allen’s mother Annette, was gone in the fire that had leveled his son’s home, and his only grandchild, Allen, was long missing and his whereabouts were unknown.
He had everything he needed to survive, extra even, and knew that Jess and her little family had a struggle ahead of them. They struck up an arrangement of sorts where he would bring by what he could spare, and she would fix him dinner and let him spend time with her and the kids. “Someday I’ll be gone, Jess, and if Allen never returns, well...” He left the rest of it unfinished, but she understood him. All that was his would be hers if his grandson didn’t come home. And as much as she appreciated his offer, Jess fervently prayed for the umpteenth time that Chris and Allen had made it out and were holed up somewhere or heading home even now.
As she walked to the north gate she glanced at the saplings, six in all, and smiled. In a few years they would help shade the east side of the house from the hot morning sun and begin to produce fruit. She was looking forward to making peach preserves and pie.
Through the north gate she ran into David. He had turned twelve three weeks ago and announced he was a man now. His reasoning was simple. Jess was “mom” and matriarch, so he had to step up to the plate and be the patriarch. He had actually used those very words. Jess maintained a straight face, restraining from laughing with some effort.
Later it hit her that the kid was right in some crazy sense of things. When other ’Enders came by, they spoke to either Jess or David with a level of equality they were unused to from adults. Mayor Farley was the only one who treated them like children or felt free to lecture them.
The brutal fact of the matter was that everyone was too damned busy struggling to survive. It didn’t matter how young or old you were, merely that you were competent. It was what you did, how you carried yourself, and what responsibilities you took on that dictated how others perceived you. In the years that would follow, through acne and hormonal surges, David would earn that level of respect of his neighbors and the townsfolk through his hard work and courage.
He had his arms full of old tools and was struggling with the side door to the garage. “Whatcha doin’?” Tina asked her big brother as she opened the door for him.
“Organizing the tools and getting them oiled. Mr. Banks said they’d last longer that way.”
“We have oil?” Jess asked.
“Yeah, the stuff that turned rancid from the heat, that big tub of peanut oil.” He dumped the tools onto the open floor of the garage and said, “Might as well use it for something.”
“It’s gonna stink.”
“I can handle it.”
Jess grinned. She had watched him throw himself at projects around the house since they had arrived, always with that dogged determination to show no weakness. She wondered where it was coming from. Why did he feel the need to prove himself? Was it because he was worried that some part of her still thought of him as a kid? It wasn’t particularly fair of her; four and a half years’ difference wasn’t a very long time. They were both still children when measured to the standards of ‘before.’ She reminded herself again to not slip up and call him ‘kid’ again like she had two days ago. He deserved better from her.
“I’m gonna fix some sandwiches, y’ want one?” she asked.
“Sure.”
“Wash the oil off before you come in.”
“Okay.”
There was no electricity in the house. Come winter, they would be dependent on the stove and the fireplace for heat. The rapidly approaching summer was of far more concern to Jess. No air conditioning during the hottest days meant stewing in muggy, 90 plus-degree heat. If the mild winter was any indication, the summer promised to be a scorcher.
Jess had mastered the art of nursing while in motion. Jacob nursed contentedly against her in a wrap while she cut slices of cheese off of a block Tina fetched from the cool basement, laid
them on thick slices of homemade bread and added a dollop of pickled vegetables that they had received from the community stores. David walked in, wiping his wet hands on his pants. He ladled a cup of lukewarm chicory from the pan on the stove into a cup. He sipped and screwed up his face, “Ehhh, wish we had some sugar.”
“You’ll have to suffer until this fall. Mr. Banks gave me some heirloom albino beet seed last week, and it’s good for making sugar. So, you planted all of the seeds?”
“Almost. Got the okra, squash, cucumbers, and more lettuce in. Oh, the collards, carrots, and bush beans too. I didn’t figure you wanted me messing with the herbs or the pumpkin or pole beans, but everything else is done. We’ll want to keep at least 2-3 plants from each crop to use for seeds next year. Maybe more, ’cause Mayor Farley says they’re gonna start asking for contributions to the community seed bank in late summer.” Jess handed him a sandwich and he took a huge bite, then his next words were impossible to understand as he tried to talk around the food in his mouth.
Jess snapped, “Don’t talk with your mouth full. Now...what did you just say?”
David rolled his eyes, chewed, and swallowed. “Geez, who died and appointed you Mom? I said that I want to go hunting. I’m hoping to get us a good-sized deer.”
“Well, if you want good-sized, you’re going to have to wait. They’re all still skinny runts after winter. Besides, after planting we need to get started on some of these repairs. Aaannd,” she said loudly as David began to object, “I need you to figure out how to fix the chicken coop and build a chicken tractor. Mr. Banks said he’s going to bring us by some pullets so we can restart our own flock.”
“Baby chickens?” Tina’s interested was piqued. She set her sandwich down and Jess noticed her hands were still crusted with dried mud, “Can I take care of them?”
“Not if you can’t even remember to wash your hands before you eat,” was Jess’s brisk reply, “Go wash those hands right now!” She finished the last word with a howl, as Jacob bit into her breast with his new tooth. The baby was so startled by her shriek that he let go and began to wail. As Jess swore and yelled, Tina and David exchanged looks and quickly disappeared outside, sandwiches in hand. Quincy trotted past them, heading for a shady spot in the yard. Even the dog knew when to make herself scarce.
They sat outside, near the small pond, and finished their lunch. Little of the sizable yard had grass in it. Instead there were planters rising from the ground, filled with small sprouts and dark, rich earth. All of the beds had been weeded now and the weeds piled in the far corner of the yard near the damaged chicken coop. This place felt good, well-defended, thanks to the town militia. For the first time since leaving the cave, David felt safe. It wasn’t home yet, but it would be in time. The four of them would make this a home and defend it if necessary. As they sat, ate, rested, and daydreamed, the clouds began to gather in the west. Later that afternoon, a heavy, life-giving rain began to fall, wetting the newly turned soil and waking the seeds from their slumber.
That evening, miles to the south, the storm was fully engaged over the pitiful remains of a ghost town once known as Clinton. A mile outside of the ruined town, a woman screamed. Lightning flashed and rain dripped through the roof of a dilapidated house.
Serena screamed at the top of her lungs for anything that could stop the pain. As Brad held her hand, he could see the baby’s head crown then disappear back up. Another push and scream and the head and shoulders appeared. He let go of Serena’s hand and reached down to cradle the tiny head, holding the baby as it slid out and coughed. A sharp, thin wail issued from its mouth.
He looked past the umbilical cord, “It’s a girl. Baby, we got ourselves a little girl!” He smiled through his disappointment. He’d wanted a boy, but a girl was fine. What bothered him most was the baby’s jet black hair and ice-blue eyes.
He wiped her down, cut the cord, wrapped the tiny baby in a clean blanket, and handed her to Serena, who looked both excited and exhausted. The lightning lit up the room and the baby squawked in fear at the loud thunderclap. Serena took in the baby’s features and met Brad’s steady gaze. He smiled again, reached out, and stroked Serena’s cheek, “She’s beautiful. What should we name our baby?
Relief washed over her. “My mother’s name was Rebecca. We’ll call her Becka for short.”
“Becka it is.”
Brad held Serena close and kissed her hair. Serena Kearney was a beautiful woman. Her blond hair was a mess and he could see she’d closed her beautiful blue eyes in exhaustion. It had been a long labor, and she’d been so frightened. Brad eased away from her, stood up, and lit a lantern. They were safe here, he was sure of it. Max and Annie were asleep in one of the upstairs rooms. He headed for the dark hallway and pitch-black bathroom, lighting the way with the lantern. His reflection gave him a start. They’d been on the road and away from mirrors so much that he’d grown used to not having one. He ran his hand through his light brown hair, peered in the mirror at his eyes, which burned and felt bloodshot. Damn, it had been a long birthing. He’d read up on it, so he wouldn’t be a complete fool, but it had been hard for both of them.
He stretched, relieved himself in the dry, filthy toilet, and thought about the baby. Becka...huh. He’d figured it wasn’t his, but it hurt in some strange way seeing the truth. He’d paid at least some attention in science class back in high school. Serena was blond, his hair was light brown. His eyes were brown; Serena’s were this gorgeous deep blue. You didn’t make a black-haired, ice-blue eyed baby with that combination. For just those few moments he allowed his thoughts to turn dark.
That bastard. Raping women, always blond, always blue-eyed. Raping them over and over until he filled them full of his seed and then, when they showed, he killed them. What kind of monster does that? His hands curled into fists at the thought. He picked up the lantern and headed back to the living room where Serena and the baby lay sleeping.
For just a moment he thought of killing the child. Cooper was far away, too far away and too damned powerful to kill. But he could...Brad felt his fingers clenching into fists...a moment passed...then the thought of wrapping his hands around her and choking her to death made him shiver. What was he thinking? The tiny creature whined slightly in her sleep. Black hair and blue eyes, the child was beautiful, even freshly born and red and a little bit squashed-looking. Brad shook his head, cleared it of the dark thoughts and smiled. He imagined her smile, thought of how it would sound to hear her say “Daddy” and reached down and stroked her cheek. Her tiny head turned and rooted for his finger. He smiled.
“Hi Becka, I’m your Daddy.” He could have sworn she smiled.
The Face of Evil
“There is no good and evil, there is only power ... and those too weak to seek it.” – J.K. Rowling
Cooper’s skin felt hot and stretched tight. He hadn’t eaten in two days, and, as he stumbled and fell over the tripwire, his last conscious thought was that he really hated the thought of dying like this, in some goddamn trap he should have had the sense to avoid.
The tripwire malfunctioned, however, and instead of filling him full of agonizing holes and more shredded flesh from the homemade bomb the tripwire was supposed to detonate, he simply ripped open his festering wounds on the gravel path. His head bobbed back, covered in blood, mixed with greenish-yellow pus, the infection from Riley’s bone shards and the crash trailing down his cheek to mix with the blood. His vision faded to black and he passed out cold. Not even the sharp kick of a booted foot in his ribs a few moments later revived him.
A slightly built, pale-faced teenager kicked again, harder this time, and earned a small groan in response. “Well, you ain’t dead. Not yet at least.” She raised a hand to her mouth and trilled a bird call. There was a distant shout in response. She shifted her rifle from her shoulder, sat down on a rock nearby, and watched the man on the ground.
A few minutes went by. “Whatcha whistle for Delwen?” A young man in his late teens, followed by two younge
r boys, came to an abrupt stop at the sight of an unconscious man within the AR’s borders. “Oh shit, ya bagged one.”
Delwen eyed him and pointed to the tripwire. “You rigged it wrong. It shoulda gone off, but it didn’t.”
The young man glared at her for a moment before turning back to Cooper, still lying on the ground, unmoving. “He stinks,” he grinned at Delwen, “what, ya want him for your boyfriend or something? Setting your sights awful low, aren’t ya?”
Delwen returned his needling with a withering look, “Oh, shut it, Heim, he’s as good as dead. I got a look at his face ’fore he face planted. That blood isn’t just from the gravel; he got messed up a while back, and it looks to have caught up with him.” She stared at Cooper and thought for a minute, “Sul will want to talk to him, though. Look at his clothes...those are Western Front colors.”
Heim chewed on this for a moment. “Think he’s alone?”
“You see anyone else ’round here?” One of the younger boys sniggered at the sarcasm in her voice. Heim reached out and smacked him on the side of the head, and the boy yelped and slunk out of range.
“Right. Let’s bag him and tag him, then.” Delwen and the other younger boy fastened Cooper’s hands behind his back with zip tie, and then bound his ankles as well. After they were sure he wasn’t going to jump up and make a grab for their weapons or their throats, Delwen patted him down, removing a large knife, along with a Hi-Point nine millimeter. Heim barked in derision at the sight of the handgun. “What a piece of shit. Hell, he’d be better off shooting himself in the head with that damn thing.”
“I afur nives,” Cooper’s voice was muffled and indistinct. His eyes had opened and the young boy jumped back, while Delwen jerked in surprise. The instant she did she felt a sting of embarrassment. This bloody mess at her feet couldn’t hurt her. If Sul had seen, well, he was harder on her than the rest; it wasn’t as easy as the other girls thought having the commander of Amerika Reborn for a father.
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