365 Days At War

by Nancy Isaak

  “Between this stuff and what we’ve already put in that other house—that’s a heck of a lot to take back with us.”

  “Which is another reason we need to stop at any bike store we find along the way,” I concluded. “We need to get those bike trailers that Topher was talking about. Because, otherwise, we’re going to be using shopping carts.”

  Jude groaned. “Been there, done that…didn’t even get the t-shirt.”

  “Shopping carts are a bitch to move long distances,” added Cherry. “When me and Jude brought those books back from the Westlake Village Library, it was killer just trying to push the carts up an incline. Can you imagine getting them up some of the hills along the highway leading up to the Point?!”

  “Well, if it comes to shopping carts,” I assured her, “we’ll figure out some way to tow them behind the bikes. That will make it easier.”

  “Says you,” Jude grumbled.

  * * * *

  “I know it’s not on Connor’s list,” teased Cherry, “but what do you think about stocking up on these?” She held up a handful of pregnancy tests, waving them in the air for everybody to see. “What do you think, Jacob? Are you going to be a father or an uncle first?”

  “What?!” Rhys squeaked, looking horrified when he realized what she was holding. “Shawnee isn’t pregnant!”

  “Well, well,” smirked Jude, coming up beside him. “I’m pretty sure that Cherry was talking about Kieran and Cammie, dude. But I guess you just gave yourself away, huh?” She reached out and took a box of condoms from a nearby display and shoved it at Rhys. “Here you go, loverboy.”

  Cherry frowned at my brother. “You porking my little sister, bud?”

  “Ohmigod!” cried Rhys. Dropping the box of condoms, he turned and raced out of the back of the store.

  Jude and Cherry immediately burst into laughter.

  * * * *

  “Seriously, Jacob,” Cherry said later, when we were alone, “it’d be smart to stock up on condoms and pregnancy tests. I mean, it just makes sense, right?”

  I nodded, trying not to blush. “We’ll take some home with us and leave the rest to be picked up later. Porter and Jay can figure out how to distribute the stuff—maybe put everything in a big bowl at the Medical Clinic—whatever.”

  “So,” she said, nudging me with a shoulder. “Father or uncle?”

  This time I really did blush. “I’m not answering that, Cherry.”

  “You’re such a gentleman,” she grinned. “I’d say uncle first. Of course, Pauly and Florenza might beat everyone to it. Can you imagine them having a baby?”

  “I can’t imagine Pauly having a puppy.”

  “Well, maybe Frank and Peyton will have the tribe’s first baby. That would be pretty neat.”

  I wasn’t convinced. “You really think that Peyton would make a good mother?”

  Cherry nodded. “Fox or not, that girl sacrificed everything to make sure that her sister was safe. And when everything went down—she still watched over Amelie like a mother lion.”

  “Peyton does cut Lance’s meat for him.”

  “And Frank would be an amazing dad,” Cherry continued.

  “He would,” I agreed.

  “But not as good as you,” Cherry grinned. “And don’t you think that Kaylee would be a great mom?”

  “What I think is that you’re yanking my chain,” I said. “So, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go and help Connor put those meds into boxes.”

  Still—as I walked away—I couldn’t help but think about Kaylee being pregnant and having our baby.

  It both embarrassed and terrified me.

  So—why was I also so excited about the idea?

  * * * *

  Later that evening, we settled down in the safehouse for an evening meal of pork and beans and potato chips—Ian’s choice. He was still doing poorly and was obviously depressed, so all of us were trying everything we could think of to lift his spirits.

  “We’ve got those chocolates you like for dessert,” Andrei told Ian. “The ones with the raisins in them.”

  “And there are some comic books in the back bedroom,” Rhys added. “We thought it would be good if you had something to read.”

  Ian looked up—startled. “Why…are you leaving me here?!”

  I frowned at Rhys. “Good going, bro.”

  “What?—I thought you’d told him already.”

  “But you can’t leave me?!” Ian insisted. “I’m okay…I can keep up!”

  “It’s not a case of keeping up,” I told him. “It’s that we need you here—to watch over the supplies.”

  “No, you don’t,” he said. “You’re leaving me behind, because I’m moving too slow for you!”

  “Look, Ian…you are going slow,” I said, honestly. “But that’s because you’ve been shot.”

  “Then, I’ll go quicker!”

  “But that won’t be good for you—and it won’t be good for us.”

  “So, you’re just going to leave me here…all by myself!” His eyes filled with tears; he looked like he was about to cry.

  “Not alone. Connor is going to be staying with you.”

  This calmed Ian somewhat. He wiped furiously at his eyes, then turned toward Connor. “You’re staying?”

  Connor nodded. “It will give me a chance to finish emptying the pharmacy. Plus, I want to spend some time cataloguing everything. It will make it so much easier if everything is organized.”

  “It just makes sense,” I said to Ian. “You can’t move as fast as the rest of us, but you can certainly help Connor.”

  “And you’re better with a gun than me,” Connor admitted. “I’ll feel better knowing that you’ve got my back.”

  Ian nodded—still a little uncertain. “I can do that.”

  Andrei slapped Ian on the back. “It’s like you’re guarding our six, bro!”

  * * * *

  As had become way too usual—the rain continued throughout the night.

  Rhys and I built a small fire in the fireplace. Along with the rest of the guys, we sat in a semi-circle around it, toasting Pop-Tarts and Twinkies. Cherry and Jude, meanwhile, were off in another part of the house—doing whatever it was that girls do when they’re by themselves.

  “I miss marshmallows,” said Andrei. He placed a half-burned Twinkie in his mouth. “These don’t taste right.”

  “You don’t have to eat them,” said Rhys.

  “Shut your mouth!”

  “Dude, the person who needs to shut his mouth is you,” complained Rhys. “You’re spewing Twinkie all over the place!”

  “It’s the end of the world,” smirked Andrei, purposely spitting out bits of yellow cake. “Nobody cares about manners anymore.”

  “The girls do,” Connor murmured, sticking a Twinkie on a fork.

  “Yeah, well…not like there are any here.”

  Rhys shook a finger at him. “You better not let Jude or Cherry hear you say that.”

  There was a deep rumble from outside. Almost immediately, the patter of the rain on the roof increased—a staccato of drops that never seemed to cease these days.

  “You still want to head out tomorrow?” asked Topher, threading his Twinkie onto a chopstick. “It might be smart to wait until the storm passes overhead.”

  “And what if there’s another storm right behind it?” I said. “And another one after that? Better that we just get going and finish what we started as soon as possible.”

  Topher had no response to that; instead, his eyes had gone wide and he was staring behind me. I turned around to find Jude walking along the hallway toward a nearby door that led into a small guest toilet. She was wearing only a long t-shirt, her lean legs bare and shapely. When she saw me looking, she shrugged. “I have to go pee.”

  Then, she disappeared into the toilet, closing the door behind her.

  As she did, Rhys reached over and punched Topher in the shoulder. “Dude…put it back in its holster!”

  “Shaddup!�
� Topher punched Rhys back.

  A moment later and the two of them were rolling across the floor, wrestling. I shimmied up onto a nearby couch, beside Connor—where I’d be out of range of their flailing arms and legs.

  “We need more girls,” Connor said, watching them.

  “Pardon?”

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it,” he continued, keeping his voice low. “There’s been a lot of grumbling in the tribe about who’s got girlfriends and who doesn’t.”

  “Guys are always complaining about something.”

  “But this is different,” he insisted. “Like all you Riker guys have girlfriends. Well, you’ve got a wife, but you know what I mean. Kieran has Cammie and Rhys has Shawnee.”

  “It’s not like we kidnapped them or anything. That’s just the way things turned out.”

  “Yeah, but—to some people—it looks like only the guys close to you get to have girlfriends. I mean, even Pauly has Florenza.”

  “Which is bizarre in itself…like the girl tried to kill him!”

  “And Frank has Peyton.”

  “They’ve known each other since grade school. I mean, they’ve been buds for years.”

  “But it doesn’t change that you guys have girlfriends and the rest of the guys don’t.”

  “Does this include you?” I asked, frustrated. “Are you saying this for you, too?”

  Connor lowered his head, looking embarrassed. “I don’t know…maybe.”

  “Well, what do you expect me to do about it? I mean, it’s not like I can just snap my fingers and more girls appear.”

  “I know that,” he said. “But it doesn’t change that guys are talking…and they’re saying things.”

  “Saying what kind of things?”

  “Well…”

  “Spit it out!” I ordered him. “What are they saying?”

  Connor sighed. “They’re saying that maybe the girls should be allowed to have more than one guy. They’re saying that it might be more fair that way—at least until we have more girls in the tribe.”

  I sat back against the couch, staring at him—shocked.

  Meanwhile, Andrei must have been listening to our conversation, because he held up a blackened Pop-Tart and said, “I volunteer to be Kaylee’s second husband.”

  He must have thought he could run quicker than me.

  He was wrong.

  * * * *

  The next morning—as Jude and I were prepping our bikes to leave—Connor came into the garage and held up a large reference book. “Keep your eyes out for books like this one. You see these pictures of how to set a compound fracture. Anything with good medical photos like these will really help us out.”

  “Maybe I can pick you up a girlfriend along the way,” I muttered—more than a little sullenly.

  Connor reddened; he looked down, not knowing quite how to respond.

  Amused by his reaction, Jude leaned over the bike she was loading and grabbed Connor, planting a big kiss on his lips.

  “I’ll be your girlfriend, Connor,” she teased. “I’ll even let you get to second base. You want to get any farther, however—we’re gonna’ have to pick out some of those French ticklers from the supplies.”

  “Stop it!” bleated Connor, pushing her away.

  “What’s going on?” It was Topher, coming into the garage, carrying his backpack. Connor didn’t respond, simply rushed by him, back into the house.

  I turned to Jude, frowning. “Why do you do that?”

  She grinned. “Because they’re cute when they tremble.”

  “Who’s trembling?” asked Topher.

  “Jude…don’t,” I warned.

  “Boys are trembling,” she said, ignoring me—looking directly at Topher. “Because I want to have sex with them.”

  Topher froze; his face flushed bright red and his eyes flicked back and forth between Jude and me. Meanwhile, Jude leaned her bike against the wall and walked over to Topher. She was at least four inches taller than him and ten pounds heavier.

  “Look at you,” she said, quietly. “You come right up to my…bosom.”

  Flop sweat broke out on Topher’s forehead; he began to tremble.

  Jude smiled—a sweet smile, one that actually made her look very pretty. “I think I’m going to make you my second boyfriend,” she told Topher. “If you want, I mean.”

  He immediately nodded, still unable to speak.

  Jude reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning in close. “But you’ll need to be a couple of years older, you know what I mean? Because we still have to be appropriate, right.”

  “Um…okay.”

  Giving his shoulder a squeeze, Jude released him with a grin. “Okay, then. See me in a couple of years, Topher, and we’ll do the nasty. I might even let you buy me supper afterwards—if you’re any good.”

  Topher’s only response was a nod.

  Jude turned to me, grinning. “Just lining up my date for the prom.”

  * * * *

  “Was she serious?”

  It was a few minutes later, and Jude had disappeared inside of the house. Topher and I were alone in the garage. I was tightening the brakes on my bike; he was still reeling from his encounter with Jude.

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Jude’s always been…different. Why—do you want it to be real?”

  He looked at me as if I was an idiot. “Of course…she’s like super-hot!”

  Funny how the world had changed—Jude had been the typical pariah in high school. Most people had hated her, the Foxes had tormented her.

  Now, look at her—Jude had become an actual sex symbol!

  * * * *

  Although the rain had stopped by the time we set out on our bikes again, the cloud cover was dark and heavy with moisture. We knew that it was only a matter of time before we would be pedaling through puddles of mud and garbage again, so we moved fast. Our hope was to reach Ventura and the National Guard armory before the next storm hit.

  We made two stops along the way—bike stores that Topher knew about. At the first one, we managed to pick up replacement tires, air pumps, and cycling jackets for all of us. It was at the second store, however, that we discovered the bike trailers. There were three of them; two were small carts, while the third was actually an enclosed carrier for children.

  Because Rhys, Topher, and Andrei were the strongest cyclists among us, we attached the trailers to their bikes. It took a while for the three of them to get the hang of towing the little carts but, eventually, they were rolling along confidently with the rest of us.

  The downside to towing the carts, however, was finding a clear route to travel. The guys had to slow down to maneuver the carts around empty vehicles in the road. At times, there was simply no room to get past; then, we would have to stop and portage the bikes and carts around the obstacle.

  The other problem with the trailers was their instability; they took corners awkwardly and threatened to tip over if their rider pedaled too fast.

  * * * *

  “Slow down!” I yelled at Andrei.

  He was about fifty yards ahead of me, riding just in front of Cherry. I thought he was pedaling too quickly, not paying enough attention to the trailer he was towing behind. He had just taken a corner sharply, his trailer sliding to the right.

  The rains were coming down steadily now and we were riding our bikes along the frontage route that ran between the freeway and a fast-moving river. Usually a mere trickle, the waters had risen drastically with all the storms and were now surging high up the bank next to us.

  Fast and foaming, the river seemed to move with a purpose now—inherently dangerous, deadly even.

  One slip and any one of us could be carried away in an instant.

  “I’ve never seen it this high,” said Topher. He was riding beside me, his eyes nervously watching the river. “We’re going to have to be really careful.”

  In front of us, Andrei swerved his bike suddenly, trying to miss a soggy ottoma
n that was—ironically—sitting in the middle of his path. As he did, Cherry continued to pedal forward, her head down to protect herself from the rain. Her attention was so intent on the few feet ahead of her, that Cherry had no idea that she was about to ride right into the back of Andrei’s trailer.

  “Oh crap!” I gasped.

  It seemed to happen all at once.

  The road up ahead turned to the right. Smothering a sudden cough with his hand, Andrei became unbalanced and angled his bike over as he prepared to take the turn.

  Cherry kept pedaling, not looking up—not slowing down.

  “Look out, Cherry!!” I yelled—pumping my feet hard—trying to catch up.

  But—I was too late.

  * * * *

  It was no more than a glancing blow.

  The end of the trailer connected with Cherry’s front tire, causing her bike to swerve and tilt. At the same time, she hit a pool of blackish water—hydroplaning across—the look on her face one of terror.

  Cherry hit the guard rail next to the river straight on, the front of her bike coming to a stop immediately, while the back end flipped up and over. With a screech, Cherry became airborne, flying straight over the handlebars and the guard rail—disappearing from our sight within seconds.

  Ironically, Andrei didn’t even realize she was gone until Topher yelled at him to stop. When he did turn around, Andrei’s eyes widened in horror as he immediately realized what had happened.

  Meanwhile, Topher and I raced to the guard rail. Tossing our bikes down, we leaned over the railing, my stomach dropping as I caught sight of Cherry. She had landed on her back in the river, no more than ten yards from where it lapped hungrily at the bank. The water she was lying in was no more than six inches in height at that point and—disoriented—she was pushing up with her hands, trying to stand.

  “Cherry, stop!” yelled Topher. “Don’t move!”

  “Stay where you are,” I shouted at her. “We’re coming to get you!”