by Ray Wench
Bobby jumped down from the rail and went through both men’s belongings. Other than the weapons, he found precious little. But the guns would be of real value as he continued his journey.
The encounter changed him. Twenty miles later, in his new car, he came upon a woman’s body stretched across the highway, her arms reaching out beckoning for him to stop, he barely slowed as he drove around her.
Somewhere he would find others like him who still valued life and would want to rebuild rather than destroy. He looked back at Becca’s sleeping form, her face so serene now, and wondered which side of the rebuild or destroy equation she lined up on.
Six
Becca stretched and yawned. If she’d dreamed, she had no memory. She sat up and looked around. A second yawn woke Bobby. They crawled out of the truck.
“Morning, baby brother. How’d you sleep?”
Bobby did a neck rotation. “Let’s just say I slept, but it doesn’t feel like it.”
“That’s too bad. I feel really good. Shall we check out the house?”
“Lead the way.”
The house, a large two-story, was surrounded by woods. A three-car garage stood behind the truck. After verifying its vacancy by knocking and looking through the windows, Bobby broke in through the rear patio door. With his gun ready, he stepped back and listened for any sounds of life. A few seconds later, Becca moved forward and sniffed the air inside. Musty and warm, but no smell of decaying bodies.
Becca reached through the broken glass, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. She drew her gun and the two went from room to room clearing the house. No sign of life existed. A thin layer of dust had settled over everything. In several corners, cobwebs had formed.
“Nothing?” Bobby asked.
His sister shook her head. She sniffed the air, lifted her arms, and sniffed again. “Oh. My. God. I frigging reek. What I wouldn’t give for a shower.”
“I’m with you there. We’ll have to see if we can rig something up. Maybe use some rain water or stop at a pond or something.”
Becca went through the cupboards. “Yeah, that’d be good.” She pulled out a box of crackers and a jar of peanut butter. “Oh!” She spun and showed Bobby a can of soup, holding it almost reverently. “Do you know how long it’s been since I had hot food?”
“Yeah, I know, but the gas won’t work.”
Becca pointed past him.
He turned. A gas grill sat on the patio. She made her eyebrows go up and down and smiled.
Bobby laughed. “Get a pot.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, let’s do this.”
Becca ran to the stove and snatched up a pot. Bobby went outside and made a silent prayer that there’d be gas in the tank so his sister wouldn’t be disappointed. The way her mood swings ran she would immediately get depressed. She might even shoot the tank.
He turned the valve on the canister and pushed the button for the automatic igniter, but nothing happened. After several failed attempts, he studied the igniter and found it was corroded. His heart sank.
Suddenly, a small flame in front of his face made him jump back.
Becca laughed. “Look what I found.” She handed him the eight-inch lighter.
Bobby slid it between the grates and pulled back on the trigger. The flame sparked to life. He lowered the fire slightly and took the pot. Becca had poured several different kinds of soup into the same pot. He looked at her.
“What? I couldn’t make up my mind, so I put one of each in.”
Bobby laughed and shook his head. “No problem, Sis. It will be like having a soup buffet.”
Becca returned to the kitchen and came back out with bowls and spoons and the box of crackers. She spread some of the peanut butter on them and laid them on a platter. She picked one up and brought it to her brother.
“Appetizer,” she said proudly.
Bobby smiled and took it, enjoying the crunch as he chewed.
When the soup was hot, he poured some into each bowl. Becca had found cans of warm pop and poured them into glasses. She had set the patio table with spoons and napkins and even brought out salt and pepper.
They ate with great appetites. Near the end, Becca picked up her bowl and slurped down the remaining broth. She held it out in both hands and said, “More, please.”
Bobby laughed. Becca wore a reddish soup smile on her face. He took the bowl and stood to refill it as she belched loudly. His sister really had changed.
When she finished, Becca slapped the table, making the bowls jump, and leaped to her feet. “I almost forgot.” She disappeared inside and returned seconds later. “Dessert.” She held out a bag of chocolate chip cookies.
“Oh, yeah, now we’re talking.” Bobby dug his hand inside the package and withdrew a handful of small cookies.
They munched in silence.
“It’s a beautiful morning,” Becca said.
The sun climbed through a cloudless sky. A warm, light breeze blew through the trees and bushes. Above them birds sang. For a moment, Bobby forgot the world had changed so drastically. He tipped his face upward and enjoyed the sun’s caress.
Bobby said, “You know, we should start stocking up on food and water. We can’t be sure we’ll be able to find them whenever we want.”
“If I know Mom, she’ll have the whole house stocked up by now.”
Bobby stopped feeding cookies into his mouth and studied his sister. He swallowed his words, and then choked them back out. “Becca, what if—”
“Stop it, Bobby,” Becca snapped. “Don’t you dare say it. They’ll be there. They have to be there.”
“I know, Sis. But we should still be prepared. It’s certainly not going to hurt to store some food. Besides, Mom will appreciate it if we show up with gifts.”
“Yeah, that’s true.” Her mood was light again. She popped another cookie into her mouth then talked through the chewing. “That’s a good idea. Let’s see what else they have here we can take with us.”
Becca disappeared inside. Bobby saddened. The talk of his parents had reawakened his fears, but he didn’t want Becca to see. Fixing on a false smile, he hopped up and followed Becca through the patio door.
Seven
Almost an hour later, they were back on the road with an old cooler and two cardboard boxes packed with packaged and canned food. They’d grabbed the canned and bottled drinks and some first aid supplies. Becca also found a used paperback, a title she’d always wanted to read. Her mood had improved by the time they left. As they drove away, she had her bare feet propped up on the dashboard and the novel open.
With Becca occupied, Bobby let his mind wander. They were only twenty miles from their parents’ home. In normal times, the drive would take less than thirty minutes. Now, especially after yesterday’s ambush, they would be slow and cautious. Pockets of humanity existed, but in these hard times people became very unpredictable. Some were good, others not. But they all had one thing in common: survival.
Bobby checked the gas gauge and decided he could afford to turn on the air for the remainder of the trip. He glanced at his sister. She smiled as the cooled air blew across her face.
She’d come a long way since the day he’d found her cowering in her dorm room. Bobby remembered driving onto the desolate Ohio Northern campus. Bodies lay everywhere. Nothing moved. He had swallowed hard, the fear climbing his chest and clutching at his throat.
Inside Becca’s dorm he could hear pounding and a male voice screaming. As he turned down Becca’s hall there was a crash and a female scream. Running and closing on his sister’s room Bobby heard, “I’ve got you now, bitch. You’re gonna pay now.”
Bobby rounded the door without breaking stride. The enraged man was punching down at his sister, who lay on the floor kicking her legs. The large sliding window stood open. Evidently Becca had planned to jump the three stories to escape the madman.
Without much thought, other than an overwhelming desire to protect his sister, Bobby launched himself
at the man. He hit the unsuspecting man in the back and drove them both over the ledge and through the window. The only thing that saved Bobby was spreading his legs wide enough to catch the window on one side and crossbar on the other. Even so, the maneuver only stopped him for a moment.
The weight of his body dragged him slowly downward. Below him he could see the other man’s body slam to the ground. Pressing his legs outward with all his might and using his hands, Bobby attempted to push back up the outer brick wall. It was no good. His legs were losing the battle with gravity.
It was then he saw the bedsheets pour down past him.
“Grab the sheet,” his sister called to him. “I’ve got it tied off.”
Even hanging upside down, Bobby hesitated. Did he give up the tenuous hold he had to trust that his sister knew how to securely tie sheets well enough to support his weight? If his body fell, the snap of his weight against the sheet would be a tremendous force against the slim material. But when he felt his legs weaken and his hold slipping, there was no choice. Even with his sister holding his feet, Bobby had seconds to react. He reached out, wrapped the sheet around his left hand several times, and then grabbed it firmly with his right. Taking a deep breath he pulled and turned his body back up toward the window.
It was at that moment Bobby’s right foot slipped from its precarious hold. He felt his stomach jump to his throat. He clutched the sheet close to his chest.
“Oh God!” Becca screamed.
But to his surprise he did not fall. He looked up and saw his sister leaning out the window staring down at him. Her arms were wrapped around his left leg, her torso pressing down, pinning it in place.
“I’ve got you, little brother.”
With his body now turned toward the building it was easy to climb hand-over-hand until he could grab hold of the ledge. Becca helped Bobby get both legs inside then pulled him through. Brother and sister tumbled to the floor in a tangled heap. They lay there for several seconds before both broke into uncontrolled nervous laughter.
“You saved my life, Sis.”
“Just returning the favor, Bro.”
They’d come a long way since. And for the moment, the underlying tension of what they might find when they arrived home was pushed aside.
Eight
Bobby slowed the truck as they approached what was left of their childhood home. He hit the brakes, stopped two houses away and stared at the half-burned structure. His jaw slackened. His stomach knotted hard. He was unable to swallow.
The garage and the front wall of the house still stood, with most of the roof missing or badly charred. Black soot stained the white brick. Most of the upstairs windows were broken. It was a nightmare version of the beautiful house that had once stood there.
Bobby heard the door open before he realized his sister was moving. It snapped him from his shock. “Becca, wait!”
Bobby opened his door and hopped out to give chase. He changed his mind, climbed back in, and drove forward, stopping in front of the house. He grabbed the keys and his gun and ran after his sister. Becca had disappeared around the side of the house.
“Becca!”
No reply. The air still smelled of burned wood. He rounded the rear corner and froze. The back of the house had been consumed by fire. Portions of the second floor hung suspended with little to hold them in place. It resembled a Hollywood stage set with only the façade complete, or an oversize dollhouse open from the back. The entire structure looked unsafe. Bobby moved closer, trying to locate Becca. What had prevented the entire house from burning?
A cry from inside the house spurred Bobby into action. He ran up on the deck, gun ready. He stopped outside where the patio door had once stood and peered in. A jagged hole replaced where the kitchen table had been.
Two charred bodies littered the floor around it. An instant stabbing of cold fear pierced his heart.
“Becca!”
With a cautious step, he placed a foot on a suspect section of floor. It held. He moved one step at a time farther inside the room.
Soft jogging steps sounded from the stairs. Becca appeared, and Bobby sighed with relief. Panic showed in her eyes.
“Becca, slow down before you get hurt. This floor isn’t safe.”
“They’re not here, Bobby.” She stopped on the far side of the hole and pointed at the charred remains. “But who are these guys?” She clutched her face with both hands. “Where are they, Bobby?”
“I don’t know.” He edged closer to the hole and looked down. Remnants of the table lay smashed below in a pile of black ash. “That’s where the fire started. By the size of that pile, it looks like it might have been set on purpose.”
“Why would somebody do that? None of the other houses is burned.”
Bobby looked around. He discovered a third body in the family room. To the right, in the kitchen, the refrigerator had been upended and wedged between the basement door and the island in the middle of the kitchen. Bullet holes riddled the door, and the upper half had been torn open and hung above the refrigerator.
“There was obviously some sort of battle here.” He pointed toward the door. “Somebody had to have done that. They were trying to trap someone in the basement.”
“So what … they started the fire to burn their way out? That doesn’t make any sense. They would have suffocated from the smoke.”
“The bigger questions are, who were they and who locked them down there?”
“Help me, Bobby. I have to go down there.”
Becca sat at the edge of the hole, her legs dangling over the edge. She had already placed her palms on the loose sagging floor and turned her body so she hung halfway down the opening.
“Becca, damn it! Wait for me before you get hurt.”
He squatted next to her, setting the gun on the floor. Grabbing her wrists, he supported her as she lowered. For a moment, panic surged through him as Becca’s weight threatened to pull him down after her. He lay down for added balance and swung her so she would avoid landing in the ashes.
On the third swing, he let go. Becca landed, hit something, and rolled. “Shit!”
“Are you all right?”
Bobby leaned his head over the edge. With only the sunlight through the hole for illumination, a lot of area in the basement was still in shadows. Flashlights. They needed to add flashlights to their list of things.
“Sis, before you go exploring, take a good look around. Make sure you’re the only one down there. And take out your gun.”
He reached for his, glanced nervously at the dead men, and then outside.
“Aw, yuck.”
“What?”
“There’s another dead body down here. This one is well done.”
“It’s not …” He choked on the words.
“No … and don’t you even think that.” She pointed an angry finger up at him. Becca spun in a circle. “I don’t see anyone else. I’m going to look around.”
Bobby tried to follow her movements but lost her behind a pile of melted slag he realized was the furnace. A heavy smoke smell hung in the air like a lead weight.
Becca came back into view. Her movements became more frantic.
“Becca, they’re not here. We’ll have to keep looking for them.”
A sob escaped her, and his heart sank. She buried her head in her hands and sagged to the floor. A low growl escaped between her fingers. Her hands flew from her face and she slapped and kicked the floor in a full-blown tantrum. Becca flung her head from side to side, screaming as loud as she could.
She had been banking on finding their parents. Sadness weighed heavily upon Bobby’s heart. Closing his eyes, he hoped to lose the image, but it would be with him forever. He tried to mentally block the screams as tears fought to escape his eyes.
Then suddenly, the screaming stopped.
Panic racing through him, Bobby opened his eyes. Below him, Becca held one of her old dolls in both hands and stared at it. The doll was blackened. Half of its lower body h
ad melted, now misshapen. Most of the once long brown hair was singed or gone.
She stroked the side of the doll’s face. Then her entire body began to shake. She hugged the doll tight to her chest and cried loudly.
Bobby could no longer hold back his emotions.
He sobbed.
Nine
After Becca came back upstairs, the siblings went through the house trying to find mementos of their family history. Becca found a pillow case that survived the fire and filled it with the treasures, including the doll.
More than an hour later, the sun was beginning to set as they stepped out onto the deck and turned toward the house, possibly for the last time. Bobby draped an arm over her shoulder. She laid her head down on his.
“I told you, Artie, didn’t I?”
Becca ducked and spun around, knife pulled. Bobby reached for his rifle, but was too slow. They stood facing the two armed men. One was skinny to the point of being anorexic, the other short and round.
“I told you they’d come back,” the skinny man squealed. “Now we’ll make them pay for what they done.”
“Where’s the old guy who was with you?” Artie asked.
“Careful, Artie, he might be hiding in the house.”
“Put them guns down, or we’ll have to shoot you. I’m a damn good shot. I’ll take out your knees first.”
Becca looked at Bobby, trying to read his thoughts. She stayed in her crouch, the knife hidden behind her leg.
Bobby shrugged. “Okay, easy. Don’t shoot.” He lifted the handgun from the holster on his hip. He bent at the knees to place the gun on the deck. As he did, he leaned forward in front of Becca. He was giving her cover to make whatever move she could. As he crossed in front of her, she drew her gun. Becca turned her body sideways to the men, ready to spring.
