by Ray Wench
Random Survival 4
Hanging On
Ray Wenck
To all the fans of this series and for your continued support, this one's for you. Thanks.
One
“Fishing?” Lincoln said. “Ah, yeah, no. Not me. I'll eat the hell out of some fish, but sit still for that long, waiting for the slimy things to jump on my hook, and pretend I'm enjoying myself is not me, man. Sorry.” The muscular black former pro-football player raised his hands and shook them to emphasize his rejection of the notion.
“Well, maybe you should come if only to get away for a while,” Mark said, with a laugh. He swept his long brown hair back with his hand. He stood several inches shorter than Lincoln.
“What, you mean like male bonding? I think we bonded enough just right here, safe, on the ground.”
Mark gave him a disappointed look and Lincoln reacted. “Oh, come on now. Don't be going there. I get those same looks from Jenny when she wants me to do something I don't want to do. It's called pouting, man, and it's beneath you. Not to mention not very manly.”
Mark laughed again. “I can't believe you're not interested in exploring new worlds.”
Lincoln frowned. “New worlds? What's wrong with this world? Wait, don't answer that.” He scratched his head. “Who else is going?”
“Caleb, Bobby, Becca.”
“So, yeah, male bonding.”
“Hey, easy now.”
“I'm just saying. No offense, but Becca's more man than most of the men here.”
“And if you're smart you won't say that anywhere within earshot of her.”
“Got that right. I faced linebackers who didn't hit as hard as she does.”
“So, I can't entice you, huh?”
“Aw, man! Let me think about it. When you going?”
“Early in the morning.”
“When you say early, what are we talking, eight, nine?”
Mark laughed. “No, you lazy-ass, like five.”
“Oh, hell no! Why we gotta get up that early? We gotta catch the damn worms too?”
“Hey, I'm offering you a chance for a relaxing day on the water and in the sun.”
“Except you can't drink the water and lord knows I'm done working on my tan.”
“We'll catch some fish we can store for the fast-approaching winter.”
Lincoln shivered. “Don't remind me. Now, if we were taking a trip south, that might make me want to get up at five in the freaking morning.”
“Okay. Okay. I won't beg. If you change your mind, we'll meet here at five.”
“I ain't got no fishing gear.”
“Don't worry. I've got plenty.”
“I was afraid you'd say that.”
“Well?”
“Stop pushing. I said I'd think about it. If I'm here, I'll be going. If not, I'll reserve a special place in my dreams for you.”
Becca and Bobby came out of the farmhouse carrying bags full of gear and supplies. “So,” Becca said to her father, “did you talk him into it?”
Mark dropped the tailgate on the SUV and the sibs slid their gear inside. “I don't think I made a good enough case for him to want to get up early and spend the day with us.”
She turned to her brother a sparkle in her green eyes. “Huh! Told you. Pay up.”
“Lincoln!” Bobby whined. “I had faith in you. You let me down.” He opened his duffel bag and rummaged through it before pulling out his hand. “I was saving this for a special occasion.” He displayed a candy bar. “Was gonna eat it to celebrate catching my first fish.”
Becca snatched it from his hand. “Better I have it. It'd melt before you caught a fish.”
“Bet you that bar I'll catch one before you do.”
Becca looked from the chocolate bar back to Bobby and back to her prize. “As tempting as that bet is, I think I'll just enjoy this now.”
Bobby reached into his bag again and pulled out a second bar. “You might win this one.”
Her eyes lit with delight. “Oh, that's my favorite.”
She reached to grab it but he pulled it away. “I don't think so.”
“Aw, Bobby. Sweet baby brother. Trade me.”
“No. Is it a bet or not.”
Becca blew out a breath and held out her hand. “Bet.”
Bobby shook her hand and replaced the candy in the bag. He looked at his sister and thought better of it, taking the candy back out and putting it in his pocket.
“Bobby!” She said in mock indignation. “Don't you trust me?”
“Hell, no.” He walked to the back of the SUV and tossed in the bag.
“Daddy, did you hear what your son just said to me?”
He raised his hands in defense. “Oh no, you don't. Don't try to drag me into this.”
“Yeah, I can see this would be a fun trip,” Lincoln said.
“Give it some thought. It might be more fun than you think. Certainly more fun than hanging around here. We'll even let you sleep on the way there.”
“Like I said, I'll let you know.” He waved and started off across the street.
Mark watched him go and then shifted his gaze to his children. They had changed so much since the deadly Event that altered the world. Not that they'd had a choice if they were to survive, and it wasn't what he would've wanted for them, but they'd adapted well. Both were tall and lean and fortunately, resembled their mother, Sandra, a victim of the Event, along with his youngest son, Ben. But it was Becca who'd changed the most. Her mental state was a constant source of concern for him
Gone was the spoiled, blonde-haired young socialite, as if that person had perished with all the rest of humanity. That sweet, but pretentious young woman had been replaced by one far more dangerous. Her temper switch could be triggered in an instant. The sparkle in her eyes now, transformed to fire, and her playful banter to venom. In truth, when that persona manifested, he barely recognized her as his daughter.
He listened as she tried to persuade her brother into giving up the treasured candy bar. Shaking his head, Mark went inside the old farmhouse they’d called home for the past four months and through the kitchen. Two teenaged girls and a trim blonde woman stood at the sink, washing the dinner dishes. “Hey, ladies, how's it going?”
“Okay,” the woman said, “but we can always use an extra set of hands.”
“As tempting as that sounds, Caryn, I think I'll pass this time.”
“I think he's afraid of getting his hands wet,” the taller of the two young girls said.
The second girl added, “Yeah, the soap might actually hurt him.” They laughed.
Caryn tried to hide her smile. “Girls,” she mock-scolded, “be nice to poor Mark. You wouldn't want his hands to shrivel. How would he fish?”
“He'd come home with minnows,” one said and they laughed again.
Mark smiled too. It was good to see Caryn smiling and fitting in so well, after her ordeal just three weeks ago, kidnapped by a rival community. At the time, Mark feared the woman's mental state would be too damaged to rebound, but with Lynn's help, she'd made great strides. “Oh, you think that's funny, eh, young ladies?” He stepped to the sink, scooped up a handful of suds and dropped them on the girls’ heads. “Now, that's funny,” he said and hurried from the kitchen, their squeals following him.
He entered the first-floor bedroom he shared with Lynn and went to the closet. He bent and reached toward the back, his hand touching a canvas bag. The door opened, and Lynn entered. He released the bag, grabbed a pair of boots and stood abruptly.
“Hi,” he said as cheerfully as possible.
She stopped, looked down at the boots, flashed a smile that didn't last and said, “Hi, yourself.”
Lynn was attractive. Standing about five-five, her brown h
air had grown long over the past few months. She wore it pulled back in a ponytail. Tiny scars marked her face, tokens of the battles and hardships they'd faced since the Event that changed their world. He always thought of the apocalypse they'd faced in those terms since they still didn't know the cause. The community had discussed it at length since then. They all agreed it was some sort of disease or bio-engineered agent, but no one knew exactly what it was or who had set it loose.
“You should come with us. It's not too late to change your mind. You might actually relax and have some fun.”
“We've been over this. With you gone, I need to be here. We can't both be away. There's too much that needs to be done before the winter hits.”
He sighed. “We won't be gone long. I promise I'll get all the tasks done before the cold comes. I just need a break.”
“Since when do you need hiking boots on a fishing trip?”
He looked down at the boots and knew he'd been busted.
“You don't have to hide that you're taking extra weapons. I'm not happy about your trip, but I'd rather you be prepared than not.”
Mark sighed, set the boots down and stepped forward.
Lynn dodged his attempt to take her in his arms. “I'm not some prissy little housewife you have to coddle and try to appease. You know how I feel about this excursion of yours, but you've made up your mind. End of story.” She brushed past him and moved to her side of the bed.
“Lynn, come on.”
“Don't, Mark.” She held up her hands and looked out of the window.
“Lynn, can't you understand? It's just a need to do something from the world we used to know. To believe things can be that way again; to live a normal life.”
“Huh! Normal!” she almost spat out the words as if they were a bad taste. “Like that will ever happen again. You're fooling yourself, your kids … and me, if you believe there's a chance of normal ever returning.”
“I have to at least try, Lynn. Isn't that what we're trying to do here? To create some sense of normality for everyone? Isn't that what we all want? A return to the way things were before, if only for a few precious moments?”
She crossed her arms and stared at him. He knew he'd scored with that last remark, after all, it was the truth, but that wasn't the real reason she was angry and he knew it.
“I understand why you say you're going. I understand the rationale, or at least what you tell me, but if you are really honest with me, with yourself, you know the real reason you’re going is because you need the excitement. You thrive on the danger, as though you're addicted to it. Don't try to cover it by saying you're doing something good for the community, because we both know better.”
“So, what? You think my whole purpose for going is to find a fight? Is that how you see me? Some warmonger who can't get enough of death?”
She frowned and pursed her lips as if trying to decide how best to phrase her next sentence. “You're a good man, Mark, and I do love you, but the emotional toll you exact each time you leave here, never knowing if you're going to come back, is more than I can take. Isn't it bad enough that danger seems to find us? Why go out looking for more?”
The words hit him like a fist. He reeled and took a step back. “Lynn, what are you saying?”
She turned her head and averted her eyes. She swallowed hard.
Mark stepped forward and she turned back, her eyes full of tears. “I'm saying that you should go. Catch your fish so we'll have food for the winter. Have fun and be safe.”
“No, that's not what you're saying.” He moved closer, but she backed away, so he stopped. “I don't know what to say to you now. I certainly don't have to go. If I'd known you felt this strongly, I would've dropped the trip right away.”
“You knew, Mark. You just weren't listening. After everything we've been through in the past few months, I'm not emotionally strong enough to deal with another crisis. It's bad enough when trouble finds us, but making yourself a target for more makes no sense to me. You do what you want to do, you usually do anyway. I think it's best for me, for the time being, that I find someplace else to sleep, perhaps to live.”
“What? Lynn, no!”
“I've been giving this a lot of thought. We're too crowded here already. Caleb and Ruth and I will find another house. Don't worry, we'll stay close. I won't abandon the family.”
“No, just me,” he spat bitterly.
“I just think it will be better for me to have some distance for a while.” Tears streamed down her face. She wiped at them.
His anger softened. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her, to reassure her that everything would be all right, but he found he couldn’t move. Whether from the shock, or the fear that she would reject him, he stood crushed and staring. Anger rose up again. He stomped to the closet, reached in for the bag that held his weapons and pulled it out. In a hard voice, he said, “Don't bother. You want to be free of me, I'll go.” He stormed from the room and out of the house.
Mark reached the SUV and climbed into the driver's seat, tossing the bag to the other side. He started the engine then noticed Bobby approaching with two sleeping bags. Bobby leaned in the driver's side window. “What's up? Where you going?”
Mark tried to hide his anger, but he'd never been very good at it. “I'm going to do a sweep of the area. I'll be back late. We can load anything else we need in the morning. I'll see you then.”
“Ah, okay. Can I put these in the back, since I've got them?”
Mark tried to smile. The effort strained his face. “Yeah, sure. Go ahead.”
The bags deposited, Bobby walked by. “All set. See you bright and early in the morning.”
“Yep.” Mark put the vehicle in reverse, but before he could move, he saw Lynn, arms wrapped around her body, standing on the back porch. Their eyes held for the briefest of moments; he turned his head and backed down the driveway. He drove off with no real plan in mind. Mark just knew he needed to drive, and far away from there.
The farther he drove, the more his speed increased. The faster he went, the angrier he got. How could she do this to him? How could she say or think those things about him? Ten minutes. Fifteen. The miles flew by in a blur of trees, long empty farmhouses and overgrown, unharvested crops. The rage was too intense to allow sensible thought.
As the distance from the house increased, he calmed down. He looked around to get his bearings. He had no idea of how far he'd gone, the area around him unfamiliar. He slowed to get his bearings. The drive had been straight, no turns, other than those in the road. The sun had created a beautiful sunset when he left the house, but it had long given way to darkness.
In the dark, finding a landmark was not easy. He flicked on the headlights to get an idea of his whereabouts, but didn't want to leave them on too long, for fear they'd draw predators like moths to a flame. Much of the surrounding countryside and farmland looked alike. Mark speculated he'd crossed the state line into Michigan, which meant he'd gone more than twenty miles. More like fifty.
Recognizing the futility of trying to out-drive his problems, Mark pulled to the side of the road and turned off the lights. He sat in the dark listening to the night sounds. Other than insects and a distant owl, there weren't many. The silence was both calming and eerie.
Mark slid down in his seat and tried to relax, but replaying the bedroom scene only made him more tense. It was clear Lynn was upset with his plan to go fishing. It was equally clear that she'd been thinking about leaving him for a long time. How long, he wondered, and when had things changed? She certainly couldn't blame him for their last traumatic encounter, could she? It hadn't been his fault. Besides, he was the one who risked his life to rescue her.
He focused on her words. Did she really think he was 'addicted to danger’? How could she – this was nothing more than a simple fishing trip, wasn't it? He turned the thought inward, performing a self-examination. Maybe he did have an ulterior motive. No! The idea was ridiculous. How could she think anyone would rat
her be in a fight for their lives instead of living in peace? That wasn't him. Couldn't be him.
Sure they would do some exploring on the trip and in this new world the possibility of danger lurked around every turn in the road, but that didn't mean the purpose of their excursion was to find it and get involved. That was ludicrous.
An image of Lynn’s face drifted before his eyes. A lump formed in his throat. He didn't want to lose her: he loved her and didn't want to live without her. How had everything gone so wrong so fast – had he really changed that much?
Mark lowered the seat and lay back. What was he going to do?
Two
He smacked his cheek, squashing the mosquito. The buzzing had awakened him. It took a moment to remember where he was. He sat up and worked his right shoulder. It had cramped, pinned beneath him on the seat. In fact, his entire body ached from the awkward position he’d slept in.
Darkness still surrounded him, but the eastern sky was somewhat lighter. Panic assailed him. What time was it? He thought about the grief he would get from the kids if he were late. He started the engine, with no recollection of shutting it off. Insects flew around the interior. He rolled up the windows and wondered how many times he'd been bitten during the night.
Turning around the SUV, he started back. The kids would be disappointed, but he’d decided to cancel their fishing trip. They could take a day trip to the river instead. They would just have to understand. The idea of losing Lynn had swayed him, breaking down the wall of anger he'd constructed. Lynn was more important to him than any expedition.
He pressed the pedal down further, anxious to see her. To hold her and to apologize. Mark vowed to make amends somehow. He would convince her he wasn't as she envisioned him and was still the man she had fallen in love with. He had to. His speed increased.
With the farmhouse still a half mile away, he slowed, not wanting to squeal the tires into a high-speed turn and wake everyone. Bobby and Becca sat on two large coolers, waiting, when the driveway came into view.
He parked and hopped out. Excited, adrenaline pumping, he tossed the keys to Bobby and said, “Slight change of plans. Load up and I'll explain on the road.”
