by K. M. Fawkes
None of the pants fit, but he managed to find several shirts and even a jacket that would be good to have when winter hit. There was also a box containing socks and underwear and he grabbed clean pairs of those eagerly before he tugged his dirty jeans on again. After he’d laced up his boots, Brad pulled one of the clean shirts over his head and stepped out into the hallway. He nearly ran right into Anna, who was stepping out of Lee’s room.
“Good morning,” Anna said, sounding almost shy as she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.
“Morning,” he said. “Did you want me to show you that cellar now?”
“Actually, I thought that I might get cleaned up first,” she replied. “If you don’t mind waiting.”
“No, that’s fine. I’ll just be outside; I wanted to check some of the other gardens. Just meet me out there when you’re done.”
Anna nodded then headed into the bathroom as Brad jogged down the stairs and into the kitchen. He pulled the door to the wood-burning stove open and added fuel to the smoldering embers. Then, he waited until the new wood had caught and was starting to blaze away before he headed out into the warm morning sun.
He paused on the porch and glanced around, reorienting himself with the landscape. It had changed a little in the years he’d been gone, but for the most part, he liked the changes. His father had added fences around some of the garden areas; it must have been getting harder to keep the wildlife away from the food.
As he leaned on the railing, looking over all the small changes and appreciating the lasting sameness of the gardens and the big orchard, he heard a gentle whickering noise. The horse that had carried Anna and Sammy stood about fifty feet away, looking at him curiously.
Whoever Mr. Brayden had been, he’d taken good care of his horse. Even after weeks on the road with inexperienced owners, the bay gleamed like copper in the morning light. He was taller than the average—fifteen hands, maybe, and built powerfully. Brad could definitely see how Anna and Sammy had made it five weeks on the road with this horse as their mode of transportation.
He had to smile when he saw how Anna had secured the creature. The horse was tied to one of the smaller garden fences around the vegetable patch, and clearly, he didn’t care to go anywhere, because he could have jerked that fence up by the stakes and taken off in a heartbeat. He also could have eaten a whole lot more of the vegetable garden than he had currently. Brad had forgotten to ask how long the two of them had been in the cabin, but he figured it wasn’t long. If it had been, there probably wouldn’t have been any carrots left.
There was a basket of apples sitting on the front porch beside the porch swing that had been a summer project before Brad had been old enough to help his father with things. He reached down and plucked an apple out before walking over to the horse.
“Hey buddy,” he said. “I’m Brad.” He held up the apple and the horse dipped his big head, taking the fruit with a snap and a crunch. Brad patted the horse’s velvety nose. “Anna didn’t tell me your name.”
The horse twitched his tail. Brad knew that there was a fly back there bothering him, but he nodded sagely anyway.
“And I didn’t think to ask. You’re absolutely right. It’s unforgivably rude. I hope the apple makes up for my lack of manners.”
The horse butted his head into Brad’s shoulder and he smiled, running his hand down its neck.
“Thanks. Would you mind coming with me? I know the garden has the best snacks, but I think it might be better if you were tied up somewhere a little sturdier. We want to keep you from running away if something startles you.”
Brad led the horse to a thick tree and tied the reins to a sturdy branch there. It still wasn’t as safe as he would have liked, but it was the best he could do at that point—Lee hadn’t kept animals at the cabin because he wasn’t there year-round. Brad stayed where he was for a while, chatting with the horse and trying to come up with a plan to house him before winter.
They’d have to go scavenging for some building materials, but with so many uninhabited houses, it shouldn’t take too long. They wouldn’t be able to build a big barn, but they should be able to manage a shed big enough for the bay before the end of the month. They could add onto it when spring came again.
Eventually, he shook himself out of his plans for next year by reminding himself that he still needed to find the cellar. He knew the general area, but Lee had always been careful to keep the door concealed, so he wasn’t expecting to walk right up on it after so long. With one final pat, he left the horse standing where he’d tied him and got to work.
Brad moved slowly around the left side of the house, looking for the hidden door. The long grass bounced back resiliently as he scuffed his feet through it and insects jumped and buzzed away quickly. He was starting to wonder if he’d remembered incorrectly when he found the door by nearly breaking his toe on the padlock.
“Son of a—” He bit his tongue and knelt down to begin bending back the springy weeds.
The lock was rusted shut, which surprised him. Lee had kept everything on site well-maintained. He never would have forgotten to clean and oil the cellar door lock. Had it really been that long since his father had been here?
Brad swiped his thumb over the lock, cleaning away the dirt and pollen that had gathered on its surface. There was no question that the lock was too rusty to open, though, even if he’d known where the key was. Which he definitely didn’t. With a sigh, he got back to his feet and headed for the woodshed.
The idea that his father had begun to neglect certain things was even more obvious when he looked at the tools hanging on the walls of the small shed. Some of the saw blades were spotted with rust and a few of the tools hadn’t been put back correctly.
“Clean up the toolshed,” he muttered to himself, adding it to his growing mental to-do list.
“Hi!” Sammy called from the porch as Brad was heading back to the cellar door, axe in hand.
“Hey,” Brad answered with a wave. “Where’s your mom?”
“On her way,” Sammy answered, jerking a thumb over his shoulder toward the cabin door. “Why?”
“Because the last time I was alone with you, I nearly got stabbed,” Brad reminded him. “I’d rather not repeat the experience, if that’s okay with you.”
Sammy grinned and Brad noticed a small gap between the kid’s front teeth. “Yeah. My mom’s tough.”
“She sure is,” Brad agreed. “Hey, what’s the horse’s name?”
“Bo,” Sammy said promptly.
Brad raised an eyebrow. “Really? Just…Bo?”
Sammy shrugged, dropping down to retie his sneaker as he went on, glancing at Brad through the slats in the porch railing.
“I mean, that’s what I call him. Mr. Brayden called him something else. It was super long. My mom said it was Italian or something. But I think he likes being called Bo better.”
“Sammy?” Anna called.
“Right here, Mom!” he called back, popping up again. “I’m just talking to Brad.”
Brad was glad to hear the kid call him by his first name. Being called Mr. Fox always made him feel like both a children’s book character and his father all at the same time. It was a weird combination.
Anna followed her son off of the porch and went still when she saw the axe.
“It’s for the cellar door,” Brad said quickly. “The lock is rusted shut. I’m going to have to break it open if we want breakfast.”
“You think…You’re sure that you can open it with that?” Anna asked, stepping closer.
This was the first time he’d seen her in the daylight. He’d been able to tell that she was really pretty by the oil lamp, but under the sun, she was a whole lot more than pretty. Her blond hair was pulled back, but all that did was show off her tanned skin. She had green eyes. He had a weakness for green eyes.
“Brad?” she prompted.
“What? Oh. Yeah, sure. It won’t be a problem, don’t worry.”
“I never woul
d have found this,” Anna murmured as she looked at the cellar door in the ground. “And it was right here by the porch.”
“You might have gotten lucky,” Brad said. “But other people not finding it is kind of the point.”
“This is so cool,” Sammy said. “It’s like those hidden rooms in ghost stories. What’s down there?”
“I don’t know for sure what’s down there now,” Brad admitted. “But I can almost guarantee that there’s enough food to last at least a year.”
Anna’s lips parted in amazement. “What? Are you serious?”
“Yeah.” Brad gestured for them to step back to give him room to swing the axe. “There’s no point in having a food supply that lasts less than that, because you need time to get a garden going. And if the apocalypse is rude enough to happen in the summer like this one did…”
He stepped back and swung the axe down as hard as he could. The lock broke with a loud ringing noise and he straightened up with a grin of triumph.
“Then you’ll have to get through a whole fall and winter before you can plant. And most of spring before you can hope for any kind of harvest. And sometimes you lose part of a harvest, anyway. Cold snaps and wild animals can really mess stuff up if you’re not careful.” He shrugged. “Sometimes, even if you are. So, you plan for more than you need.”
Anna was still staring at him. “I can’t believe that you managed to break that on the first try,” she said.
“I guess I’m stronger than I look.”
Actually, he knew he was. He was tall and lean and no one expected him to be as strong as he was. But he’d stayed in good shape both because of his father’s voice in the back of his mind and because he routinely worked with animals. That took a fair amount of strength, even if it didn’t show up as bulky muscle due to his running habits.
“Okay, can we go in now?” Sammy asked, practically wriggling with anticipation.
“You’re gonna stay up here with me,” Anna said firmly. “It’s Brad’s cellar, not ours.”
“Mom!” Sammy said in frustration. “I wanna see what’s down there!”
“And I don’t,” she replied.
“Not a fan of the dark?” Brad asked. “I have an oil lamp.”
“It’s not the dark,” she said tightly. “All of the oil lamps in the world won’t change the fact that the cellar is a small, underground space.”
Brad grinned and lit the lamp he’d brought out with him. “You’ve got me there. Okay, guys. I’ll be right back.”
He walked down the stairs, holding the lamp up so that the light spilled over most of the cellar. It was huge—bigger than he’d remembered. Lee must have added even more space in later years. Things were still just as well-organized as they’d always been, though.
The shelves were made of galvanized steel and they stretched along the long walls, gleaming dully in the low light of the lantern. There were dried meats on one shelf, and Brad knew that they ranged from squirrel to deer to moose to who-knew what else. Bags of beans and rice took up a shelf of their own and boxes of pasta lined another.
One wall was dedicated to baking and cooking essentials. Those shelves were packed with containers of sugar, salt, stock powder and every kind of spice that a person could imagine. Dried herbs and spices had a very long shelf-life and made a boring diet more palatable.
There were dried fruits on another shelf and vacuum-sealed bags of granola, as well. Those were accompanied by cereal bars and big round containers of rolled oats. There was an entire shelf of peanut butter and his mouth began to water. They could have oatmeal this morning. Oatmeal with brown sugar and a scoop of peanut butter. Brad swallowed hard and went back to taking inventory.
As he stepped forward with the light, he found another shelf filled with water and seltzer. Near it, there was a rack of instant coffee, tea, powdered milk, and other powdered beverages. He eyed the Tang, thinking that Sammy would probably get a kick out of that.
Drinking nothing but water was healthy, but probably boring for a kid Sammy’s age. Hell, it was boring for Brad, and he was thirty. He made a mental note to pick the container up for the kid before he left the cellar.
The west wall was lined with a wide variety of canned goods, both bought and homemade. The selection mostly leaned toward homemade and Brad remembered how much his dad had loved canning things. The jars sparkled in the flickering light of the flame and he stepped closer, reading the labels that his father had written and applied to each can lid.
There were veggies aplenty: corn, potatoes, green beans, and squash. There were also jams, sauerkraut, pickles, and succotash. There was a whole row of canned tomato juice and puree. And, on the next shelf, there were canned peaches, pears, cherries, and plums.
Brad’s brain threatened to go on meal-planning overload as he looked at the bounty around him. What should he bring up? They’d said they were tired of no-cook options, so he needed something they could heat. As much as he wanted the oatmeal, they should probably have something a little heartier for the day ahead.
He looked around and saw that he’d missed another whole shelf filled with chili—that was hearty, so he picked up two cans. There were crackers on one of the shelves and he grabbed them, even though he knew that they would probably be a little stale. They were only about a year past their sell-by date, so it wouldn’t be too bad.
It wasn’t a traditional breakfast, but he’d moved past that idea. A meal was a meal, and a person took what they could get. He hoped that they agreed.
He grabbed a jar of instant coffee and a box of breakfast blend teabags in case Anna wasn’t a coffee drinker. Then, he added one of the canisters of Tang and three bottles of water to his armload. He glanced around once more to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything and headed up the steps.
Anna and Sammy were watching eagerly from the edge of the hole. As soon as he emerged enough for the supplies he carried to be seen, Anna swooped down on him with a shriek that nearly caused him to drop everything.
“Is that coffee?” she cried out.
Apparently, he could have left the tea right where it was. “Yep,” he said with a smile. “And if you’ll take this stuff for a minute, I’ll close up and we can go in and eat.”
Sammy took part of the load and Anna took the rest. Brad slammed the cellar door and covered it again, taking the time to try to fluff the grass up once more. A person could never be too careful, even out this far.
“I guess we’ll have to get the fire going again,” Anna began.
Brad shook his head. “No, it’s good. With a wood stove, it’s easier to just keep it banked and smoldering, so that’s what I did last night. I built it up again before I came out. It’ll be ready to cook on by now.”
“Oh,” Anna said. “That’s good, then.” She looked a little crestfallen in spite of her words.
“What’s wrong?” Brad asked.
“Well, it’s not a big deal, but I was kind of hoping that you could show me how to make a fire. You know, from scratch. We’re running low on matches and I thought that it might be better to save them for a real emergency.”
Flattered, Brad said, “I can still do that. We’ll use the fireplace after breakfast.”
She smiled up at him. “That sounds good. Thanks.”
About twenty minutes later, the chili was bubbling on the back of the stove and Anna was setting the table. Brad stirred the beans and meat every few minutes to make sure that nothing stuck to the pot. He didn’t want to miss out on a single bite. It would be the first time he’d had anything with real meat in it in weeks. He’d made sure to pick the beef chili so that it would taste a little more familiar to Sammy, but he’d found deer, moose, and vegetarian chili in the cellar as well.
Anna stepped up beside him when the coffee began to boil and poured a cup for herself. “Want some?” she asked.
“Yeah, please.”
“No problem.”
She took another mug out of the cabinet and splashed coffee into it, h
anding it to him with one hand as she raised her cup to her lips with the other. She breathed in the smell and closed her eyes for a moment before she took her first sip. Although the coffee had just been boiling a minute ago, she didn’t even wince as she drank.
“Big fan, huh?” he said, still stirring the chili while he let his own cup cool down a bit.
“Coffee was my one splurge,” Anna admitted. “I was that jerk in the coffeehouse ordering the latest thing every time one came out.”
“Instant coffee probably isn’t your favorite, then,” he began, but she waved her hand and took another long drink.
“Coffee is life,” she said firmly. “At this point, I don’t care what kind it is as long as it’s the kind I’m drinking.”
He grinned at her. “Good attitude to have these days.”
“Hey, what’s this?” Sammy asked, looking at the container of Tang that Brad had put in the center of the table.
Anna stepped away from the stove and grabbed a glass. She showed Sammy how to mix up the Tang and Brad turned to watch the kid take his first sip.
Sammy’s eyes lit up. “This is so good! How come we never had this?”
Anna laughed. “I don’t know, sweetie. I guess I was just a horribly negligent parent.”
Sammy grinned. “Yeah, right. Is it bad for me? Is that why?”
“It’s probably not great,” she said, glancing over the label.
“Astronauts drink it,” Brad said. “How bad could it be?” Before Anna could answer, Brad held the pot out. “All right, get your bowls over here.”
They did, Anna bringing Brad’s bowl over with her. He filled them all to the brim and set what was left of the chili on the back of the stove. Someone would probably want seconds. It would probably be him.
“So, what are we going to do today?” Sammy asked as he crumbled crackers into his chili. Like Brad, he didn’t seem to care that they were a little stale. “Since we already did the cellar?”
“Well, if you two are up for it,” Brad said, “I thought that we could do some fishing. And then maybe get in a swim, if there’s time.”
