Reduced

by Robin Tidwell

  The good news, if there was any, was that the blizzard also kept planes grounded. The surveillance pilots didn’t want to go out in this stuff either; after the past month or so they probably didn’t really believe anyone was still out here.

  The grapevine was still lively. The camp kept in touch with a few other groups, scattered remotely around the state and into Illinois. Most were ragged, hungry, cold, and dispirited. They all said the same thing: the military was rounding up strays, those who had survived the initial epidemic. They wanted everyone in one spot, probably to study, possibly just to control. Or kill. No one talked about that. Not much anyway.

  Abby made her way through the snow to Millie’s tent. The sounds of coughing reached her long before she entered. Flu and pneumonia had joined forces and invaded. They’d already lost several, and Noah was running short on medicines.

  Abby wasn’t worried for herself; she never got sick, hadn’t since she was a child. As soon as the contagion began to spread, she’d packed Juliet off to the tent she shared with Emmy and kept her there. So far, the small girl also seemed immune.

  But she was concerned for Millie. The older woman was in great shape, but she was still no spring chicken. And she wasn’t doing well.

  As Abby ducked inside, Pops rose from Millie’s side. “I think she’s doing better, Abby. Take a look, what do you think?” His eyes were pleading and sad. Bob lay at the foot of her cot.

  Abby knelt beside Millie’s cot and took her feverish hand. Millie’s eyes were open, but unseeing; she occasionally mumbled a few words in between spasms of coughing. Abby looked at Pops. He knew.

  “Has Noah been by lately?”

  “Just this morning, right before you got here. He gave her some morphine pills but they don’t seem to be working too well . . .” His voice trailed off. “Guess I’ve seen a lot, Abby. Too much. This is about killin’ me.”

  Abby awkwardly patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll sit with Millie for a while, Pops. Why don’t you step out for some air?”

  He bit his lip for a moment, then gave a brusque nod. “All righty then. Won’t be long.” He stepped outside, lowering the tent flap.

  Abby nearly dozed off in the dim light, but started upright when Millie spoke. It was barely a whisper, true, but she sounded coherent for the first time in days. “Shhh,” said Abby, “Don’t try to talk yet.” She gave the woman a sip of water. Millie broke into a coughing spasm. Abby gave her another sip.

  She waved the cup away and tried again. “Where’s Clarence?”

  “What?” said Abby. “Oh, Pops. He’ll be right back. Just stepped out for a minute.”

  “Help me sit up.” Millie struggled to rise, but was too weak. Abby shrugged. Probably couldn’t make things worse. She arranged a couple more pillows behind Millie’s head and wiped her forehead with a cloth; it was surprisingly cool to the touch.

  “You remember what I told you, Abby, when we moved up here?” Her words were halting and slow, barely audible, but her mind was clear. “I meant it then, and I mean it now. And you take good care of Juliet for me. That baby sure does love you.” She began coughing again.

  Abby glanced around frantically. This didn’t sound good at all and she didn’t mean the coughing. Almost everyone was coughing lately, and she almost didn’t notice that anymore.

  Just then, Pops appeared at the entrance, Juliet in his arms.

  Noah was right behind him. Millie smiled.

  Juliet jumped down and threw herself at Millie, sobbing. The dying woman patted her back and held her briefly before beginning to cough again, a wracking sound from deep inside. She held the child away from her and looked directly at her.

  “Juliet, I love you like my own but I gotta move on now. Abby’ll take care of you. I promise. I know you love me, but you love her too and you’ll be safe with her, for always.” She kissed Juliet and handed her to Abby, then looked up at Noah.

  “Doc, you remember what you promised me?” Noah smiled faintly and nodded. “You know,” Millie went on, “I don’t believe those deathbed confessions are always from the one dyin’.” And she winked.

  “I’m awful tired now. Clarence, are you there? Can’t seem to see too well all of a sudden.” Pops knelt down and took Millie’s hand, gripping it tightly.

  “I’m here, darlin’.”

  Noah lightly touched Abby’s arm and the two of them, Juliet crying in Abby’s arms, stepped outside.

  Within a few minutes, Pops left the tent too. “She’s gone.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Christmas was approaching. There hadn’t been any snow for over a week, but the wind was bitter and the sun seemed to have disappeared permanently. Abby, on fire duty today, had had to trudge even farther afield than usual to bring in her quota. She’d barely given Christmas a passing thought until Juliet said something.

  “Abby?”

  “Yes, little one?”

  “Will Santa know how to find me?”

  Abby paused. Santa hadn’t figured prominently in her childhood; neither, really, had Christmas itself. Her aunt celebrated nothing and, indeed, had rarely even smiled and certainly never indulged in any type of frivolity.

  “Well . . . um, sure, of course he can find you. Doesn’t Santa know everything?”

  Juliet did not appear to be convinced.

  “Abby, of course Santa knows! And I’m sure he’ll be here, right on schedule!” Emmy stepped in, saving the day. At least for the time being. Abby shot her a look. “Come on, honey, I’ll help you write him a letter. And we’ll have to find a sock for you to hang up, so he can fill it.”

  Juliet giggled. “You don’t hang up a sock, Emmy, you hang up a stocking!” The two went over to Emmy’s bunk and began their project. Juliet was smart as a whip. Emmy had been teaching her letters and numbers and she could write a few short words already.

  That evening after dinner, when Juliet was playing games with some of the teens, Abby pounced on Emmy. “Okay, smart one, how are we going to pull this off?”

  Emmy smiled secretively. “Oh, I have a few tricks up my sleeve. And so does Noah and Ted and Pops and a few of the girls.” At that, she flounced out of the tent and made her way over to Cal’s. Well, flouncing was not entirely accurate. It was difficult to manage that with four layers of clothing and while ducking one’s head against the wind. But she did leave, with a small, mysterious smile.

  Abby stretched out on her bed. It was chilly, but at least there was no wind. This Christmas thing might be out of her sphere, but there were a few things she could probably manage. She made mental notes, but felt herself drifting off time and time again. Bob was on the cot with her, which provided some additional warmth if one could stand his dog breath.

  Noah ducked inside, shivering. He pulled off his gloves and rubbed his hands together, standing over the brazier. “Damn, I think it’s getting colder.”

  Abby sat up. “How’s Zoe doing?” A few days after Millie died, Brad and Zoe had announced that they were having a baby. The bitter cold certainly wasn’t helping matters, but Zoe had been terribly sick for the past week.

  Noah shrugged. “Not a lot I can do up here. A hospital would be the best place for her. She still can’t keep anything down except a little water.” He yawned. “I need to get some sleep, one of these days.”

  “Here, let me help,” said Abby. She moved over to Noah’s bunk and unlaced his boots; she handed him a fresh pair of socks and hung up his coat and scarf to dry. Abby turned her back as Noah changed into his sleeping gear. No one wore pajamas anymore, or even just sweatpants, it was too cold in spite of the small bit of warmth in the center of the tent.

  “Abby,” said Noah. “We need to talk.” He reached for her hand to pull her down beside him.

  “Not now,” said Abby with a look of panic in her eyes. “You said you needed to sleep.” She kissed him on the forehead. “So go to sleep!”

  Noah sighed and laid down. Within minutes, he was sound asleep and Abby breathed easier. It’
s not that she didn’t want to talk to Noah, it was that Noah wanted more than conversation. And Abby wasn’t sure that she herself wanted more than that. True, there had been that night they spent together after the commissary explosion…but Abby knew the reason behind that. Death.

  They buried Zoe on a clear, cold day, the day before Christmas Eve. She’d lost the baby, a tiny boy, and bled to death. Brad was handling it well, but Noah continually beat himself up over what he believed to be his own inadequacies in saving her.

  Of course it wasn’t his fault; they all knew that. Lack of equipment and supplies were to blame. They were even running low on basic medicines. Clothing and blankets were ample, but food was likely going to have to be rationed before spring arrived. Abby had had her doubts anyway about anyone trying to care for and raise a newborn, considering their current predicament.

  After the burial, Brad remained beside Zoe’s grave for a time; Noah took off into the woods. Emmy and Juliet returned to their tent to practice reading, but Abby went to see Cal.

  Cal sat alone, knees drawn up, shivering. She’d lost weight since Meg’s death but Abby figured they were all probably thinner at this point. The two sat in silence for a while, lost in their own thoughts. Abby patiently waited for Cal to speak.

  “Maybe we’d have been better off staying put and taking our chances, Abby.”

  “I don’t think so, Cal. Pops is still keeping in touch with other groups, and the news isn’t good at all. Not sure how much is rumor, but . . .” She shrugged.

  Cal deliberately shook off her melancholia. She straightened up and swung her legs off the cot. “So, are you ready for this big Christmas deal tomorrow?”

  Abby frowned. “Beats me. I seem to have been kept in the dark about it. I do have something for Juliet, but I’m a little worried about all her Santa Claus talk.”

  “Nah,” said Cal. “Don’t worry. I’m sure everything’ll be fine.” She winked at Abby and pulled on her coat and gloves. They strolled back to the fire to join the others, telling stories of Zoe in the old days, before this unthinkable mess had gotten so out of hand.

  Christmas Eve dawned crisp and bright; at least there was no snow, although the air held some promise. Juliet was beside herself with excitement, bouncing from tent to fire to cooking shelter and back, over and over again.

  Emmy insisted they not let her lie down for a nap, rightly believing that this would have her up until all hours, waiting for Santa. Abby was dubious. She was also exhausted from chasing Juliet, but at least it kept them warm. She’d already wrapped Juliet’s gift with a piece of old newspaper she’d snagged from the woodlot where they kept all the fire equipment and supplies.

  At last, dinner was finished, cleanup complete, and everyone gathered around the campfire to sing carols. Juliet was visibly drooping when Abby finally carried her back to the tent and helped her get ready for bed. She saw the sock that Emmy had hung near Juliet’s cot and sighed.

  The girls had just gone to bed when Noah returned. He clumped inside, shaking snow from his hooded parka and Abby jumped up to help him.

  “Where have you been?” Abby hissed. She didn’t want to wake Juliet, and Emmy appeared to be sleeping as well. Or was pretending to do so.

  “Out. What’s it matter to you, anyway?” Noah was sober, thankfully, but completely uncooperative.

  “It matters to all of us, Noah. You should know that, in spite of . . .” Abby’s voice trailed off. “Besides, I do care.”

  Noah laughed harshly. “Right. Sure.”

  “Noah.” Abby reached up and took his face in her hands.

  She kissed him lightly.

  “Abby, stop.” He grabbed her hands. “I’m not playing here, I love you. We don’t know how much time we have, but it’s all or nothing for me.” He stared down into her green eyes. “Tell me you will.”

  “What? Tell you I will what?” Abby pulled away. “Noah, I care about you. I do. But I’m not—I’m not going to be with you. I can’t. Not now. Not until . . .”

  “Until we’re safe? That’s not going to happen, Abby. So it’s never.” He turned his back on her, sat down, and began to unlace his boots.

  “Good night, Abby. Merry Christmas.”

  Abby awoke on Christmas morning as a small weight was flung onto her chest. “Abby, wake up! It’s Christmas! Santa was here!” She groggily rubbed her eyes and tried to stretch, but the weight was persistent.

  “Juliet, get off me!” The child obliged, grinning. “What on earth are you talking about?” Abby sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bunk.

  Juliet’s small sock had been replaced with one of Emmy’s larger ones and was bulging mysteriously; the brazier in the middle of the tent was glowing. There were all kinds and sizes and shapes of packages lying around a tiny evergreen, balanced precariously at the foot of Juliet’s cot. The tree was decorated with bird feathers and pinecones and even, on closer inspection, a few necklaces and earrings scrounged from deep within backpacks and duffle bags.

  Abby was astounded.

  Juliet jumped about, clearly unable to decide what to do first. She finally settled for pulling Abby up and over to the small tree, pointing.

  “Look, Abby, look! Isn’t it pretty? And look at Bob!” The shepherd had a huge red bow tied around his neck and was trying to look dignified.

  Emmy ducked through the tent flaps and grinned. “And you had doubts about Santa,” she teased.

  Abby threw up her hands. “I need coffee!”

  A crew carried the tree out to place it near the fire pit, along with Juliet’s gifts. Breakfast was eaten while watching the little girl open her presents. For once, everyone was smiling and talking; it was really quite festive. Juliet held up every gift and thanked the giver; she was beside herself with joy, scampering around, digging into the pile, chattering like a squirrel.

  Finally she was finished, and Abby scooped her up to return her to the tent for a brief rest before Ted served their Christmas dinner.

  She sat Juliet down on her cot and handed her one last package. It was flat, rectangular in shape, and a bit heavy. Carefully, Juliet opened her gift. It was a knife, just like Abby’s but smaller, for little hands.

  Juliet looked up solemnly. Abby nodded and smiled. The little girl cautiously withdrew the knife from its leather sheath and gently put her finger on the blade.

  “Yes,” said Abby. “It’s very sharp.” She showed Juliet how to fasten the sheath onto her calf; it was a little long for such short legs, but Juliet would grow into it quickly enough. She took it off then, and laid it on her pillow.

  Throwing herself into Abby’s arms, she whispered, “Thank you, Abby. I love you!” Obediently, she lay down on her cot, but just then there was a knock at the doorway.

  Pops entered and smiled at the little girl. He was holding something behind his back. Abby withdrew to let them have a few minutes and went over to tidy her own bunk and finish getting ready for the day.

  The old man sat down next to Juliet and put his arm around her. “These are for you, sweetheart. Grammy made them before…before.” He handed her a pair of bright, cherry red mittens, on a string to keep them from getting lost.

  Juliet clutched them to her chest as tears formed in her big, blue eyes. She sniffled. Pops looked rather teary himself, but simply hugged the little girl tightly and kissed the top of her head. He gave a Abby a hug as well, before he left, and whispered, “Thank you. And merry Christmas.”

  All crews had the day off today; truthfully, there wasn’t a lot to do in the dead of winter except guard duty—and Sandy remained on the job, seemingly wanting only to be alone and useful. No one had seen much of her these last few weeks, except Cal, with whom she was bunking when in the campsite.

  Firewood, of course, was a priority, and the cooks were always busy. Ted tried to rotate anyone who was interested but their numbers overall were diminishing. They’d lost Millie and then Zoe, and five others to the flu in just the last few weeks. From over 60 people gather
ed initially, just 23 remained.

  But today was Christmas, a day of festivity. While they mourned those who had died, they celebrated those who lived.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Spring came at last, along with many changes.

  While the core group remained in the camp, nearly half of the others decided—after much discussion—to move back to the metropolitan area. Cal and Noah both tried to discourage this, making them aware of the consequences; Janey was more concerned about their potential status as informers.

  The die cast, a family of four plus one couple elected to move closer to the town where, they assumed, supplies would be easier to obtain. While Abby tried to make it clear that the town no longer existed, they assured everyone that there were still homes and maybe even stores that would aid their survival. No one was thrilled with wintering in the outdoors, but some were certainly less hardy and that was a heavy factor.

  That afternoon, several hours later, Sandy came into camp with news. Radios had not been in use for some time, as they could be traced and tracked via GPS. She met with Cal, alone, then Pops arrived. Soon everyone had gathered at the fire pit.

  Cal wasted no time. “Mike and Susan and the kids, and Jim and Janice were all taken . . .” She looked at Pops. He nodded. “They were all captured by—by US Marine personnel about 45 minutes after they left the gates.

  “Sandy followed them, under my direction, to make sure they made it safely away. In spite of precautions taken, at some point they must have believed that there was little danger. Sandy said they acted as though they were simply on an outing and weren’t paying full attention when the choppers landed.

  “In light of this, everyone will remain in camp but for certain assignments, no exceptions. We have believed our cover here to be sufficient, but will be working on improving that and making other necessary changes.”

  Cal sat down and waited for questions, but there were none. Everyone was calm and resigned, they knew the stakes. If not prior to this, certainly now. Pops milled around the group, speaking a few words to each. Brad was beside himself, wanting to avenge the families or at the very least do something besides sit around . . . he was too valuable to the entire group to go on any assignments, and he knew it.