The Seventh Day

by Scott Shepherd

  “Through an apocalypse of all things,” Fixer pointed out.

  “Imagine explaining that to a five-year-old. Or exactly what happened to her mother.”

  “How did she take it?”

  “Fine.”

  Fixer stopped walking and looked at the physician with more than a little disbelief. “Really?”

  Sayers gave him the saddest of nods. “Because I never told her the truth. Try living with that.”

  The doctor picked up the pace and moved away from Fixer, closing the door on the subject.

  A few things had changed for the better since The Seventh Day. For Joad, not needing to rush things was one of them.

  Before The Purple, people had fallen victim to multitasking. It wasn’t enough to just drive down a street or settle down on a couch to watch an old movie. A dinner conversation couldn’t be had without the need to check for a text or e-mail; it was “hurry up” and a total disregard for “wait.” Consequently, as much as The Strangers had taken, there were a few side benefits as to what was left behind. A world with no electricity, no way to communicate except face-to-face—the whole slowing down of things was something Joad welcomed.

  Back to basics. That’s how he liked to think of it. You dealt with the situation at hand. No need to concern yourself with the things that weren’t right in front of you. And if it took a long time to get the job done, that’s the way it was—no sense complaining.

  Joad could tell Laura hadn’t subscribed to this theory.

  Patience wasn’t her strong suit.

  They sat at the edge of a stream with makeshift fishing poles Joad had carved from stiff long reeds that sprung out of the water. He had dug up earthworms from the mud and speared them on the reed’s sharp edge. They had been angling for less than twenty minutes, but Laura was already totally frustrated. She had gotten the first nibble but immediately lost the fish when it gobbled up the worm and dove back into the depths of the water.

  Joad reached over and gently took hold of her right arm. He brought it backwards in a flipping motion, which moved her hand up and over her shoulder. “Since you don’t have an actual fishing line, you need to stun the fish and throw it onto dry land. Wait till it feels snug on the worm, then flip back hard.”

  Laura wove the reed pole in front of him. “How is this supposed to support a huge fish? It’ll break in half.”

  “Who said anything about huge? A bunch of small ones will make a tasty stew. Trust me.”

  It was enough to get Laura to dangle the reed back in the water.

  “You haven’t tried this with your stepfather?”

  “Can’t say we do much of anything together.”

  “What do you do for food?”

  “Usually, we’ll find some canned goods in an old grocery store or warehouse. We stock up, settle in some place, and stick around until the supply runs out. Then we get up and move until we find somewhere else.”

  “No fish? No meat?”

  “Doc’s not much of a hunter.” She stirred the reed pole around in the water, sending circles out into the stream. “He’s none too anxious to leave that still of his. He spent over a year building it. I expect that’s what he’s most upset about with those men burning down the trailer. He’s going to have to start all over again once we find a new home.”

  “Perhaps he ought to find a different hobby.”

  “I doubt that’s going to happen. Doc likes his liquor way too much.”

  “Has he always been like that?”

  “Pretty much. Can’t say for sure when I was younger. I was only four when he got together with my mother. But he was sure a whole lot happier when she was around.” She slowed down the circle motion with the reed. “I guess his drinking has gotten worse the past few years.”

  “Did your mom die on The Seventh Day?”

  Laura gave a solemn nod. “One day she was here. Then The Purple came. She never came back.”

  The circle motions ceased completely. “But I still see her smile. And hear her laughing.” She looked away. “I hear ’em both laughing.”

  Her sadness tore at a piece of Joad’s heart.

  “You need to hang onto that. It’s the stuff that gets us through.”

  When Laura turned back, she was wiping tears from her eyes. She managed a small smile. “What keeps you going?”

  Joad reached inside his jacket pocket, pulled out a small packet, and handed it to Laura. Her eyes widened when she read the label.

  “Apple seeds?”

  “My wife planted a packet in our garden. I want to get back and see how big the trees are.”

  Laura handed the packet back to Joad. “You have a family?”

  “Just Becky. Rebecca. My wife.”

  “But how do you know . . .?” She broke off, seeming not to want to finish the sentence.

  “I don’t,” said Joad. He held up the packet and stared at it. “But I have these to give me hope until I get back home.”

  Laura smiled as he put the packet back inside his pocket. Then she yelped as she felt a tug at the reed pole.

  “Oh my God. . . .”

  The water splashed.

  She almost dropped the pole in shock. Joad urged her on.

  “Keep a tight hold—let it grab the worm!”

  “It’s tugging!” she cried.

  Joad make a big flipping motion with his hand. “Now!”

  Laura lifted the reed pole out of the water and over her head. A small fish dangled off the end of the pole, wiggled free, and fell onto the ground. Joad grabbed it before it flopped back into the stream. Once it stopped quivering in his hands, he placed it behind him.

  “I can’t believe it!” Laura said.

  “You’re a quick learner.”

  “You’re a good teacher.”

  Joad shrugged away the compliment. “We’re going to be real hungry if the four of us try and make a meal out of one measly fish.”

  Laura took up the dare. “Bet I can catch another one before you do.”

  “Now you’re getting cocky.”

  She laughed, dug up another earthworm, and affixed it to the tip of the reed pole. Joad followed suit and they sat side by side for an hour. They didn’t talk much, content with each other’s company. By the time the sun started to set, their catch numbered more than a dozen.

  On the walk back to the camp, Joad noticed Laura was shivering.

  “Those men are still coming after us,” she said softly.

  Joad realized it wasn’t so much the cool of the evening that had provided the chill as the clarity that came with the edge of night.

  “Most likely,” replied Joad.

  “No. Definitely.” Laura glanced at the rising moon. “But not until morning.”

  Joad slowed down his step.

  “How would you know that?”

  At first, Laura didn’t answer. When she finally did, her voice was barely a whisper.

  “I just do.”

  8

  Primo stared at the car in his hand.

  His first instinct was to crush it to pieces. Considering all the trouble it had led to, at least he’d get a modicum of satisfaction from its destruction. But he also knew any such pleasure would be fleeting and like Quattro, Primo was determined to get to the bottom of how the Matchbox car worked.

  Because, like his departed brother, Primo had also seen the car moving across the desert floor.

  And he knew that was impossible.

  Power and electricity were gone. The Strangers had seen to that. It had been the first thing they’d gobbled up. The world was thrown into darkness overnight, and came to a complete stop. Whether the power just disappeared or went back with The Strangers to wherever they came from, was up for a debate no one would ever win. It was plain and simple; since The Seventh Day, nothing worked. Every switch, every light, every mechanical object was totally worthless. Every watt of electrical current had vanished from the face of the earth.

  But then they had found that punkish man, F
ixit (no, Fixer, Primo thought), sunning himself on a rusty chaise lounge outside a tin shed in the middle of The Flats, with a bright red Matchbox car circling around him like it was on a string. The moment he caught sight of the brothers, the runt had gathered up the tiny car in his hand and when questioned about it, had tried to convince Primo and his brothers that they had been out in the sun way long and that their minds were playing tricks on them. Nothing worked; didn’t they know that?

  Of course they did, thought Primo. Which is why they weren’t going to just walk away without a reasonable explanation. It wasn’t until Secundo strung Fixer up on the boat that the feisty man finally fessed up and said he had stumbled on a batch of cells.

  Cells.

  The Holy Grail of Power. Rumored to be stockpiled in hidden caches from The Strangers, cells were the one thing that could still provide energy. But they didn’t last long and once used up, they couldn’t be replenished or recharged. As a result, their number had dwindled over the years to where they were now few and far between; even their actual existence had come into question.

  It didn’t surprise Primo that Fixer was lying about having cells. The man was clearly a schemer. But that didn’t explain how the car had been moving on its own. Primo suspected he didn’t get the full story from Fixer, but he absolutely would the next time their paths crossed.

  And cross they most definitely would.

  Especially now that Fixer had linked up with the doctor who had let Quattro die under his shaky drunken hand. And the gray rider who freed Fixer from the grappling hook, causing Quattro’s fall and torturous demise.

  “They were definitely here,” Trey said.

  His brother’s voice snapped Primo out of his reverie. He looked from the Matchbox car to see Trey kneeling on the bank of a small river, tracing his fingers through the dirt.

  “Looks like they let the horses drink up.”

  “Are all four still together?”

  “I think so.”

  Trey got to his feet. Despite his interest in the odd (such as king-sized pinto beans), he had become quite the tracker. Which had proved helpful in the brothers’ various pursuits. On more than one occasion, Trey had hunted down their quarry by reading patterns on the ground: footprints, wheels, or horse hooves.

  “Four sets of prints, but only two horses. Must’ve doubled up when they rode off.”

  “Headed in which direction?”

  Trey took in the surroundings. “Not back across The Flats. If they had, we would have run into them.”

  “That coward Fixer would never backtrack knowing we were behind them.”

  “That lines up. Especially seeing as how the horse hooves actually lead into the river.”

  “Really.”

  “But with two riders on each horse and given the water depth, I don’t think they’d be able to stay afloat long. Plus, I think those are hoofprints.” Trey pointed toward the opposite bank where Primo could make out disturbances in the dirt. “Which, as incredible as it seems, meant they were headed to….”

  Trey hesitated but Primo was already ahead of him. He was already looking at the gigantic mountains casting purple shadows over The Flats as the sun began to set.

  ‘The Fields.”

  “Why would they do that?” asked Trey. There was a nervous lilt to the question.

  “We didn’t leave them much choice.”

  “But no one goes there. The stories I’ve heard. . . .”

  “Might just be stories,” finished Primo.

  “What if they’re not?”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  Trey actually shuddered. “Primo. . . .”

  “Those men killed our brother. Are you going to let them get away with that?”

  “Of course not. But follow them into The Fields? There’s got to be a better way.” Trey frantically examined the possibilities. “We could head to the northwest and go around them. It might take an extra couple of days but we’d be ready for them when they came out.”

  “If they come out.”

  “My point exactly. We shouldn’t be heading up there.”

  Primo took a couple of steps forward. The wind started to kick up around his feet. Trey found himself backing up until he realized he was on the edge of falling into the river. “We need to punish these men for what they did to Quattro. Do you understand?”

  Dirt gusted up in Trey’s face. As the wind swirled more fiercely, Primo could see that Trey got the message loud and clear. Trey nodded vigorously.

  “Whatever is in The Fields, it’s never seen the likes of us,” said Primo. “I want more time with Fixer. There’s more to that man than meets the eye.” He held up the Matchbox car. “Quattro was onto something, and I’m not stopping until I find out exactly what.”

  Primo let the threats hang in the air as the dust swirl slowed to a halt. Trey breathed an audible sigh of relief, then looked past Primo.

  “There’s no way we’re getting that thing up there.”

  Primo turned to face the pirate ship anchored in the sand. He gave a solemn nod, having made some sort of decision.

  “There comes a time when you just have to leave things behind.”

  Quattro’s body was propped up in the crow’s nest.

  Primo had insisted on it, despite the almost Herculean effort it took for Secundo, Trey, and himself to accomplish the task. Luckily, Secundo’s extraordinary strength, which appeared after The Seventh Day, allowed him to shoulder the bulk of the burden and get their youngest brother to his final resting place.

  Primo stared up at Quattro, wrapped in bandages from the shoulder down so that the last thing he’d see would be his face, which was practically the only part left unmarred by the accident and the surgeon’s inept touch. He also wanted Quattro to have a bird’s eye view from atop the ship he loved so much.

  After all, it had been Quattro who had found the ship in the first place.

  For the first few months after The Seventh Day, the brothers stayed in the cities, unable to accept that they would become virtual wastelands. Primo couldn’t believe the Remaining wouldn’t return and try to restore them to their former glory. But it soon became apparent the power was never coming, that the resources were never going to be replenished, and that more people would be leaving than staying. And considering that 99 percent of the world had vanished along with everything else on The Seventh Day, Primo found he could actually do a head count and arrive at a city’s population.

  So, they had moved from town to town, and eventually made their way to what was left of the Eastern Seaboard. Primo figured that the water would yield a significant amount of fresh catch, so they ended up settling in the remnants of Newport, Rhode Island. But the brothers were not the beachgoing type, and were soon bored. After a couple of months, Secundo and Trey complained that they were sick to death of fish and announced they were ready to move on.

  Yet Quattro never seemed to get down in the dumps. He wasn’t depressed that he didn’t possess a Gift (which is what the Remaining called them) like Secundo’s strength or Primo’s effect on the elements. That set him apart from Trey, who would constantly grouse about it.

  Trey would ask his youngest sibling the same thing at least once a week. “How come they got ’em and we didn’t?”

  Quattro’s answer was always the same. “You probably just haven’t found yours yet, Trey.” He would point out that both Secundo’s strength and Primo’s ability had emerged slowly after the Strangers left.

  Which was absolutely true, thought Primo. At first, the windstorms and thundershowers that occasionally accompanied his outbursts were deemed to be coincidences by the brothers. Secundo always joked that Primo really did have a black cloud traveling over his head. But eventually coincidence was thrown out the window, and through trial and error, Primo established that his moods actually did cause the weather to change. It took a lot of concentration, a few near-disasters (the capsizing of the ship due to a sudden temper tantrum came immediately to mind),
and a ton of practice for Primo to harness that ability—the Gift he was still learning to control.

  Especially as it got more powerful through the years.

  Primo wondered if it was like flexing a muscle and things just got stronger. Or were his mood swings just more violent, resulting in more intense destruction and chaos?

  Whatever the case, Quattro didn’t seem to begrudge Primo or Secundo any of it.

  In fact, he openly embraced their Gifts whenever the opportunity allowed.

  Which was why, when he wandered into the Newport Nautical Museum and saw the old pirate ship, Quattro said he felt like he had discovered Nirvana.

  By this time, the brothers had been traveling on horseback for a couple of years. Secundo’s strength was already that of a dozen men and Primo had been successful in getting a couple of cars to move forward by summoning up the wind to push at their backs. But automobiles were not built to be at one with the elements; they needed fuel and electricity, two things that were never coming back to Planet Earth.

  But a pirate ship! With its gigantic sails on massive masts, Quattro said it was perfect to ride the high winds. It was in disastrous shape, which was probably one of the reasons The Strangers left it behind (plus, what the hell would they do with it anyway?). A replica built for an exhibit, it had gone completely to seed. His brothers said he was crazy, but Quattro was nothing if not persistent; once a bee was in his bonnet, it stayed there and the pirate ship was an entire hive. He spent days, weeks, and then months getting the leaky boards fixed, varnished, and sparkly clean until he claimed it was ready to go.

  “Go where?” asked the dubious Primo.

  “Wherever you can make it,” Quattro answered.

  “You’re nuts.”

  Quattro proceeded to prod Primo until he lost his temper, resulting in a huge blast of wind. When the ship launched forward, Secundo and Trey screamed with delight. Primo was initially too pissed off at his baby brother to appreciate the wonder of what he was doing. But when a few more gusts sent the boat and brothers crashing through the museum doors into the empty streets of Newport, Primo began believing Quattro wasn’t completely crazy.