The bomb shelter had been raided, the shelves of books that Mrs. Connor loved so much had been tossed willy-nilly to the ground, but no one had discovered the cache of foods concealed behind the bookshelves. David found canned meats, vegetables, ready-to-eat soups, even canned milk. A trip through the Connor’s ruined house also yielded a hand-operated can opener. David wrestled with it, opening a can of milk, and one of the soups and greedily sucked down his share of both before his sister could have a chance to eat. The look on her face made him feel awful. Her lip trembled and he patted her hair clumsily and made sure she ate the rest of the soup and milk.
“Sorry ‘Teen, I was awful hungry. Hey look, there’s some of Miz Connor’s homemade strawberry jam, ya want some?”
Tina perked up and minutes later was happily sucking strawberry jam off her fingers as David led her to a broken and dripping water pipe to wash up.
Tina’s fine blond hair would soon become matted beyond all hope of redemption. David did his best to keep his sister’s hands and face clean, but the rest of her took on a grayish grimy appearance in the days, weeks and finally months that followed.
In the end it had taken two full days to dig the single grave deep enough to bury their parents’ bodies in and a full week for the blisters to heal. The stock of canned food at the Connor’s had eventually run out. David expanded his searches to the other ruined houses around them. Twice they had hidden from troops marching through the area.
The uniforms were different, but a stranger was a stranger and the children were too frightened to test the foreign soldier’s kindness. The men strode through the ruined stretches of houses, their machine guns hanging from their shoulders, searching for loot, for food or clean water, or anything else they took a fancy to. They robbed the dead, shot at any stray animal unfortunate enough to cross their paths, and drank bottles of alcohol (David had read the labels of the empty bottles discarded at their camp sites) before finally moving south towards more populated areas.
Spring had turned to high summer, but their hidey-hole stayed relatively cool. David made sure that they both drank from the broken water pipes and not the pond or the brackish water that collected in the drainage ditches. Only once had they made that mistake, and Tina had gotten so sick he was afraid she would die. She had run a fever, hot to the touch and glassy eyes for two days before slowly getting better. When the water pipes slowed to a trickle and finally petered out, David searched for new ones with Tina following silently behind wherever he went.
There was a pattern to the days now. Each morning he would wake first and then shake his sister awake. He would turn his back while she used the overflowing, stinking toilet in the house down the street, and take her to the nearest water source and make sure she washed her face and hands. They would eat canned food for breakfast, wash again and scout for supplies. They took it street by street, fanning out in ever-widening circles. The walks were taking longer and longer, and often they would stop at a familiar shelter and sleep for a while with the sun burning hot overhead. Tina was still little, so she needed more sleep. And David found it easy to nod off with his sister cuddled against him, even on the hottest day, her little body moist and heavy.
Later they would take what they had found and head back to the hidey-hole for dinner and to sleep. Sleep came with the setting sun. The few candles they had found were precious and the flashlights and batteries even more so. So by the time the darkness fell completely, the two children were already well snuggled into their nest, lying close to each other for comfort. If their parents could see them now, David mused one night, they would both be smiling in surprise and pride at how good he was being with Tina. The only time they argued had been over what to eat, pickles or olives, for dinner one night. Other than that, he had been the best big brother he could be; better than his parents would have ever dreamed. Tina whimpered suddenly in her sleep and he pulled her closer and patted her matted hair until her breathing evened and her body relaxed once again.
Two More Makes Four
“I’ve learned so many things in the past ten years. Things they didn’t teach in school or even in the Boy Scouts. If the ‘me that was’ ever met the ‘me that is’ – would I even recognize myself? I know how to take a life. And I have done it to save me and mine. I know how to butcher game and livestock, raise food to eat, track deer, and break through ice in the winter to make sure I’ve got water to drink. I know lots of things – but most importantly I know that you don’t have to be blood to be family. Jess, little Erin, Becka, Jacob – they’re all my family, just as much as Tina is. Even Q2 is family. Even Lord Flea. I can’t imagine life without them. I don’t think I would want to.” – David’s journal
Jess and Erin moved steadily north, following first the Luc River, then Clinton Lake, and now some other unknown body of water. Their progress was far slower now that Jess’s belly had swelled pushing against the oversized shirt and forcing her pants to swoop in under it.
They were held with a safety pin now that the button had popped off. She was so damned tired of walking. Worse yet, the awful thing inside kept kicking her. Worse yet, it kept her awake during the nights when they lay on the hard ground exhausted from another long day of walking.
Erin still insisted on boiling any of the water they found. There was usually dirt or sand in it now that the rains were less frequent and the water levels low in the creeks. The flat dull taste it had after being boiled tasted putrid to Jess, but she drank it anyway, despite the way her stomach roiled in protest. At least she could keep food down, that was an improvement over the spring, but now backaches and heartburn had set in.
The sun wasn’t even beginning to dip down over the horizon when they reached the outskirts of Clinton and Erin insisted they stop at the ruins of a church. Quincy had been whining and nuzzling at Jess’s hand for the past hour. She was only a few months old, but the young dog knew when her mistress tired.
“You’ve got circles under your eyes so bad it looks like you’ve been punched,” Erin observed, giving Jess a gentle shove down on a nearby pew after lining it with a tattered and filthy blanket. “For crying out loud, just lay down for a little while, I’ll scout for some food and water and make sure the area is safe. Quincy, you watch her close and make sure she rests.” The dog whined softly in response.
Jess didn’t argue, she was too exhausted. She sunk down on the pew and closed her eyes. Quincy licked her hand softly, whined again, and settled down on the ground keeping contact with Jess at all times. The pup was acting weird and had been all day. Jess’s back hurt, her feet hurt, hell, just about everything hurt today. Last night had been sleepless; they had both listened to the gunfire in the distance wondering if it was headed their way.
So now when Jess closed her eyes, sleep came quickly, stealing across her and propelling her instantly into a dream. A nightmare really, it was always the same—men surrounding her and reaching for her. She pushed herself against the far wall, trying to escape, always trying to push them away as they crushed her beneath their sweating bodies.
It was the crunch of feet on broken glass and Quincy’s short quick bark that woke her instantly, her heart pounding in fear. Half her mind was still in the nightmare. Instantly her hand found Lady, as she liked to call her gift from old Coop, she kept her eyes closed as she listened for the next step. She would die before she went back, of that she was determined. Another quiet crunch, this one only a few feet away and she launched herself upward despite her awkward, protruding belly.
Brandishing the revolver she screamed wordlessly. The tiny child cowered before her, mouth open and stock still, a terrified expression on its grimy face. Quincy’s body pressed firmly against Jess’s legs and her tail thumped against the ground as she whined in excitement.
It was just a child. A little slip of a thing, no older than four years and maybe not even that. It had matted filthy hair that might have been a light ash brown if it were clean. To guess, Jess would have to say it was a girl, but wi
th all of the grime it was difficult to tell. The child’s eyes flicked away from Jess and focused on someone behind her and she spun to find a young boy, older, equally filthy, looking terrified and armed with a brick. He held it defensively, eyeing her with a wary, frightened stare.
Just then, Erin’s voice rang out, “Whoa kid, drop the rock! We come in peace!” She had returned from scavenging and was standing in the broken doorway of the church with several cans tucked under one arm and a blessedly rare, unopened bottle of spring water in her hand.
Both children shifted on their feet, their attention turned to her and they prepared to bolt. Erin smiled winningly, “I found beef stew and green beans and even some sweet, condensed milk. Is anyone hungry?” The little one licked her lips at the mention of the milk and looked over at the older boy for direction. It was obvious to both of the girls that, except for each other, these two children were completely alone.
Jess took advantage of the girl’s interest and spoke, “My name is Jess, and that’s my friend Erin. What’s your name?”
A grimy thumb had found its way into the girl’s mouth and it muffled her words, “Deena.”
The boy spoke up, “She’s Tina, and I’m David.”
Jess smiled at them and sat back down. They were only kids. She would be less threatening if she were sitting. Besides she was still tired.
She put the revolver away and gave the older boy a steady, reassuring look. He eyed her back warily. “We’ll share what we’ve got with you if you’re hungry.”
The boy nodded and relaxed his hold on the brick, finally setting it down as Erin pulled a prized can opener out of their pack and opened the cans. Both children said nothing, just stared intently at the cans of food until they were opened and offered to them. And even after that there were only quiet smacks of satisfaction intermixed with loud gulps.
The little one, Tina, giggled as Quincy placed her paws on the girl’s shoulders and licked her face ecstatically. The pup was unable to control her enthusiasm at meeting new friends, especially one of such a small size. Jess was amused to note see the dog’s industrious tongue had cleared away a great deal of the grime.
Erin teased details from the boy, learning that he and his sister were alone, and had been for months now. Recently they had heard gunfire again and hidden from the soldiers moving through the area. “They shot the Tubman’s dog Reggie,” David noted solemnly, “we hid from everyone after seeing that.”
Jess and Erin told the children an edited version of how they had been captured by soldiers and had finally managed to escape. “You did the right thing to hide,” Jess assured them, “Those men are very dangerous.”
Tina had finished licking the last of the condensed milk from the can and boldly climbed into Erin’s lap, tucking herself against the teenager and playing with the collar of her shirt before slowly slipping into a light doze. David offered to show the girls the hidey-hole and Erin stood up, shifting the sleeping child to her shoulder. Tina was still young and used to regular naps. She wrapped her legs around Erin’s waist and whined. Both the girls found themselves smiling; the tiny girl was adorable despite her grimy, tattered appearance.
It was only a few blocks to the hidey-hole, but Jess felt nauseous and dizzy by the time they arrived. Quincy was close to her side, so close that twice she nearly tripped over the pup.
“What is up with you, Quincy?” the dog merely whined and licked at her hand while trying to move closer.
Every day that passed she had moved slower and slower, and her belly grew bigger and bigger. It had made for miserably slow travel as well.
It disgusted her, the thing kicking and rolling inside her and the way her body felt like it didn’t belong to her anymore. Had it ever? Since the soldiers had taken them, since that moment she had been dragged into Tent 5, her body had no longer been her own. She was tired of running, and tired of the thing inside her. Her stomach twisted again, cramping painfully, “Great, not only am I friggin’ tired, but now I’m going to be sick.”
By her side, Quincy whined softly and licked at Jess’s hand. The pup had been glued to her side all day, quietly whining and butting Jess’s hand with her wet nose. David pointed to a tiny, dirty hole in the middle of the ruins of a house and announced, “That’s where Tina and I sleep.”
There was no way to get down the staircase, unless you weighed less than 50 pounds, and the tiny hole he was pointing to was far too small for Jess or even Erin to fit through. A few yards away from the ruined house was an uneven mound of dirt. Erin followed Jess’s gaze and took in the crude marker and heaps of dead flowers scattered over the hard earth. It had to be the kids’ parents.
The sun dipped lower in the sky and the ominous beginnings of thunder rumbled in the distance. Jess stared at the dark gray storm clouds gathering. There wasn’t any shelter to speak of; even the ruined church behind them had been missing its roof. Jess felt like screaming, crying and just plain collapsing on the ground in frustration and exhaustion. Things couldn’t possibly get worse.
Or could they?
Jess felt a gush of fluid rush out of her, flowing down her pant legs and soaking her tattered pants and shoes. It wasn’t a stomachache, it wasn’t bad food...‘it’ was coming.
Jacob’s Birth
“Jacob asked me today about his father. I didn’t know what to say. I haven’t told him the truth. I love him so much, so very, very much. I look at him and I know exactly who his father is. His face was so distinctive, and Jacob looks just like him except for the eyes. My sweet Jacob has my blue eyes, not his father’s ice blue. Sometimes I tell myself I can’t know for sure, it could have been any one of them. And it could have been...but it’s not. Jacob got angry last Saturday, he was so angry I thought he was going to hit David who had been teasing him relentlessly. But the look on his face, it brought back awful memories. David said I turned as white as a ghost. How do I tell my son, who I love more than life itself, that his father is a monster? How do I tell him that if I ever see that bastard again I’m going to kill him? So I lied. I told him his daddy died before I got to know him very well.” – Jess’s journal
There was very little in the way of shelter with the roof of the house gone and rain fast approaching. Neither Erin nor Jess could fit through the small hidey-hole in the basement. But shelter here they must, there was too much activity to the south, troops were moving through. In addition to the thunder, they could now hear gunfire coming from the south.
Had they known that Clinton had become a battleground between several warring factions of groups, with names they had not even heard of, the girls would have avoided the ruined town. But there had been no way of knowing and now they were in the thick of it, with the baby coming, and soldiers to the south heading their way.
The storm was barreling in from the West, clouds black and menacing, lightning dancing through them and the accompanying thunder was growing in frequency. If they went east it would only follow them, and there was no known shelter that direction anyway. A few hours at most, and they would be caught in the heart of what was promising to be a violent summer storm.
Jess was relieved when Erin came back from checking out the shed, which she said would do in a pinch. The roof was intact and she smiled encouragingly at Jess who was sitting on the ground, pinch-faced and white-knuckled, clutching a clump of grass as another contraction hit, “C’mon, I’ll get the packs and the kids can bring blankets and pillows.”
Jess just nodded, the pain was getting bad and she was scared, god, she was so damned scared. What if something went wrong? What if she started hemorrhaging? Or what if the thing got stuck inside her? More than anything, though, she just wanted it out.
This thing had been growing inside her body, taking her food for its own, slowing her down, and making her vulnerable. She wished for the hundredth time she had been brave enough to kill it early on.
When her water had burst, she had looked at her wet pants and shoes and the small pool of fluid forming around he
r feet in numb shock.
This nightmare that was her life, with the desperation of day to day survival, she had found it surprisingly easy to ignore the expanding belly. Even the incessant kicks of the unwelcome creature that was inside her; how many times had she shrugged it off, worrying instead about how much further they could walk in a day, or how long the smoked meat would last before they needed more?
A shed it was, full of lawn equipment that Erin and David hastily pulled out and threw to one side. There was a momentary surprise as a family of rabbits burst from a hole beneath the structure and ran pell-mell into the brush. Quincy left Jess’s side for the first time that day and dove after them. “Quincy!” Erin called in exasperation, but the pup ignored her then disappeared from view, eager to catch a rabbit for her mistress.
The grass was overgrown, high, and thick low-branched trees surrounded the shed. If they were lucky the roof would have no leaks and with evening coming it was a relatively safe place to hide from enemy eyes.
They quickly set about making a nest of sorts. They needed two, actually, one for the children in the far corner and one for Jess to have her baby in. Blankets, old clothes, and an armful of stained couch cushions were put to use.
Erin turned to David, “I’ll need water, lots of it, take the bucket and fill it as full as you can.” He left silently, Tina a step behind him, holding on to his shirttail with one grubby fist. They headed for the pipeline. When the water had stopped running months back after a particularly fierce firefight he had searched for days and finally found a broken pipe one block of demolished houses over. At first it had gushed water, but now it was down to a small, but steady trickle. It would take a while to fill the bucket.
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