She knew that his hand would be on his gun.
What a strange world to be a young boy in.
“You can’t tell me a good way—?”
A laugh. “Good way? You fu—um, serious—lady? Good way… what? To live? Find food? To get from here to wherever the hell it is you are going?”
He stood there, glaring at her as if it was somehow all her fault.
He spat at the ground. “No. I. Can’t. Guess all the ‘good ways’ are all gone.”
Christie nodded, then to Kate.
This was turning bad. Best they just leave.
“Kate, start the car. We’ve got to turn around.”
Having managed her tricky three-point turn back at the hospital, Christie hoped Kate didn’t take too long with this maneuverer.
Not with this man here, growing angrier by the minute.
And when she looked back, she saw one of the other men step around the barricade and also start walking over.
“Kate…”
Kate hadn’t turned the key enough to start the ignition, but now, with another twist, the engine started up.
Thank God for that, she thought.
Then, to the man, “We’re leaving.” But she heard another voice, a man yelling from the barricade.
“Tim, tell those folks to hang on.”
The man by the car—this Tim—stood up, backing away from the open window, which Christie quickly shut.
She didn’t have to tell Kate anything more.
They had seen enough together to know when something was happening, and it wasn’t good.
Kate put the car into reverse, and twisted her head around as she gunned the car backwards, leaving the two men behind.
So easy, Christie knew, for them to raise their weapons and try to stop them.
After all, she thought, we have guns, we have a goddamn car. They might even think we have food.
Then Kate hit the brakes as she came abreast a narrow two-lane road that veered left, away from the barricade, away from the town of Clear Lake.
With a jerky pull on the shifter, Kate put the transmission in drive and gunned the car forward, wheels squealing, dust flying, leaving the men, the town, and their makeshift barricade behind.
*
“Mom, where are we going? Where am I driving to?”
Kate looked over at her, the old road atlas open on her lap.
And she had to think, How long would it take to drive to—God—Michigan? Nine… ten hours? More? Which meant days of driving.
And that was on highways.
But wandering around like this, using side roads, old routes even before the interstates and throughways?
Probably getting lost.
She turned to her daughter. “Not sure, Kate. But this road circles around that town. We can get back on that bigger road.
Then, “You okay? You’ve been driving a while.”
With her hands locked on the steering wheel, Kate looked anything but okay.
“I’m fine, Mom. Just want to know what we’re doing, where we’re going.”
Christie nodded.
Of course.
Wishing she had something better to stay, wondering if leaving the hospital had—in the end—been a bad idea.
She turned back to Simon.
‘And you, mister? You all right?”
Keeping it light.
Simon nodded. Christie gave him a big smile, hoping that would reassure her son, that somehow he might summon a smile to send back.
But only a nod, his gaze turning back to the window. Who knew what thoughts were running through his head?
Then, “Mom. Something ahead.”
Christie felt Kate slow the car.
CHAPTER 16
Going Shopping
Christie saw a sign on the side of the road: WELCOME TO THE HAMLET OF STORMVILLE.
And below the welcome, a smaller welcome sign from a Unitarian church.
Another town, she thought.
But the map didn’t show it.
She brought the road atlas closer, studying the web of roads, and then she saw a small dot, miles still away from any major road, and the letters—a very small S’ville.
Kate slowed some more, then stopped.
She turned to Christie. “This okay? I mean, okay for us to drive through?”
But Christie had another idea. She didn’t know how big this Stormville was, but from the size of its name and dot on the map, pretty damn small.
And looking ahead, she saw no movement.
The Wild West, she thought. A ghost town.
Their gas was low. The sandwiches gone. A few hours till dark.
“Okay. How about you drive in slowly? Let’s just take a look. See what’s going on here.”
“I don’t like it,” Simon said.
Christie was reminded that she had said to the two of them, We’re together. Things will be decided together.
She turned back to her son. “Just a look, Simon. Okay? We don’t like what we see, we just keep going?”
No need to tell him how low the gas was getting.
He nodded. Agreement.
What a world three of us live in.
“Okay,” she said to Kate.
The car started moving again.
The town—what there was of it—looked deserted.
A tiny post office sat next to a storefront that proclaimed it to be the Stormville Public Library.
Even the church looked miniature.
A few cars dotted the street, most looking undamaged, but farther into the two-street-long town, she saw one blackened wreck that looked as if it had been used for a bonfire.
And a small hardware store also showed signs of a major fire, all glass smashed, the shelves empty.
But diagonally across from that store… a small grocery store.
The Village Market.
Christie had hoped to spot a gas station, but she guessed people had to travel farther in either direction for that.
“Hang on, Kate.”
Her daughter’s foot came off the accelerator.
No one around.
This town, like so many in the past few months, probably abandoned, people fleeing toward some mythical safe place.
Just like us.
“What?” Kate said, and Christie heard a strain in her voice.
Could their nerves be pulled any tighter?
She made a note that when the time was right, somehow they had to find a way to just be together, not running not shooting, a few moments to be a family.
“That market—”
Simon pointed out the obvious.
“Mom, that will be empty. People would have taken everything. This whole place is empty.”
A nod. Then, “Probably right, Simon. But…”
She didn’t want to let him know how desperate she was beginning to feel.
“But a small store like that… maybe has some storerooms. People would have grabbed what they could off the shelves, but maybe—”
“I doubt that,” Simon said.
And even she had to admit his questioning made more sense.
But what choice did they have? They could find water in the small lakes and ponds on the roads ahead.
But food?
She patted Kate’s knee as she turned to Simon. Hoping that Kate would stand with her.
“Worth a look-see? Just a look? We can be quick.”
“Mom, what about the gas?” Kate said.
Christie had hoped she wouldn’t have noticed that. Or noticing it, kept quiet.
“Got an idea about that too. But first… the market. A look around. What do you say?”
No quick answer.
Then Simon nodded.
“Okay,” Kate said. “I could use a break.”
“And you thought driving would be fun,” Christie said.
Kate smiled.
The smallest crack in the mood.
But enough. It was something.
“Let me
park closer,” she said to Christie.
And she eased the car right in front of the grocery store with its empty shelves.
Now for a plan.
She could—Christie thought—just run in, see if she could find anything left behind, leave the kids here.
But no.
She remembered what happened when they returned to their home on Staten Island, how the kids, left in the car, had been overwhelmed by Can Heads.
It may look quiet here, she thought.
Things could change quickly.
And with her bad leg, hobbling around the place, if she did find any food left behind, how could she carry it?
“Okay. We lock the car up, and all go in. Stick together, right?”
“Sure,” Kate said, answering for both herself and her brother.
“And the guns—”
“We bring them,” Simon said, as if that idea was about to be questioned.
“Yes. Of course. But safeties on. You know how… just like your father—”
She stopped.
Months later.
The mere mention of him… so devastating.
After that man… Their father had given his life to save them. Just thinking of him brought such terrible pain.
She looked away. Took a breath.
“Like your dad showed you. Safety first.”
In this completely unsafe world.
“All set?”
Then, moving her wounded leg, feeling the wound pull, she popped open the door and stepped out into the chilly air.
Colder than she thought.
Were they up in some hills, mountains? Seemed so much colder than back at the hospital in New Jersey.
She pulled her collar tight around her neck.
“Button up, guys. Freezing here.”
The kids flanked her as they entered the market, one glass door just a frame, the other smashed and hanging off its hinges as they climbed over and around them.
Still painful, but Christie also noticed this: the pain seemed better. The dressing, the antibiotics, doing their work.
Not wincing with every move she made.
Then, into the store, the empty shelves ghostly, signs still up announcing sales. To the left, what must have been a produce section.
A few rotten, decayed strands of something lay on the floor.
Long past fitting the definition of food.
To the right, a dairy section, equally barren.
Anything and everything that could be eaten, all gone.
If they were going to find anything, it wouldn’t be here.
“Let’s check the back. Places they might store stuff.”
She led the way down an aisle where—amazingly—there were still some full shelves.
With dishwashing liquid. Sponges. Air freshener!
As if that part of the world—that part of life—was still normal.
People doing dishes, keeping things clean and fresh.
No.
Just that when you need to find things to eat, all that was useless.
They walked past a small gardening section. Some weed killer. Rolls of green garden hoses.
No seed though.
’Cause probably… if you’re hungry enough…
“Mom, I don’t think we’ll find anything here,” Simon said.
Which was exactly what Christie was beginning to think. Place picked clean. How could anything be overlooked?
“I know, Simon. But we’re here. Let’s look anyway.”
More steps, her kids slowing so they matched her hobbling walk forward.
Until they hit the back of the tiny market.
The meat section.
Signs announcing freshly ground beef.
Ground beef? That would have disappeared even during the best of times over the past few years.
And like all the other counters, the white, smeared here and there with what looked like blood, all the refrigerated cases empty.
This was all beginning to feel so hopeless.
But then—at back—double swinging doors.
To the back room. Maybe to storage areas.
Maybe, maybe, maybe…
She looked at her kids. Their faces said that they didn’t like this crawl through the barren store.
This had been a bad idea.
Still, she gave the door a push, So dark inside with no power, just a filmy light from grimy windows at the back.
Any flashlights in the store would have been long taken.
They had one in the car.
Didn’t think to bring that, she thought. Got to think of things more clearly.
Can’t make mistakes, miss things.
Her kids followed her inside.
CHAPTER 17
A Surprise
“Hang on,” Christie said. Though there were some filmy windows at the back of the storeroom, still the darkness here made it near impossible to see.
“Let’s let our eyes adjust. Just a second,” she said.
She didn’t like it back here. The musty smell of the store’s backroom, once filled with crates and cartons of goods to be brought outside to the gleaming store.
Now, as her eyes did in fact slowly adjust, she could see how empty the storage shelves were. On a few, she saw the ripped-open carcasses of the boxes that had been pillaged for anything edible they might hide.
Like a strange slaughterhouse, the ripped cardboard dotting the floor, the shelves.
“Nothing here,” Simon said, disappointment in his voice.
Christie turned to him. “Doesn’t appear that way. Sorry, kids.”
And Kate, ever more aware of her mother it seemed to Christie, came over. “It’s okay, Mom. Was worth a look.”
She nodded.
But she also felt that desperation, that terrible thought, What if we don’t find food?
Had I been foolish leaving the hospital?
Then another terrible thought, Could we go back?
But she doubted that even if she made that decision that they would welcome that back.
Some doors when they close… close forever.
Simon had walked away, running a hand along a shelf, knocking the splayed boxes off their perch to the ground below.
Until…
“Hey! Look at this. Over here.”
Kate looked at Christie, and then staying with her, giving her mother a helpful arm, additional support beyond her cane, as they walked to the back.
“Bunch of empty boxes piled here. I kicked them away… and look.”
Christie looked down to where Simon stood. And though so dark, she saw the outlines of something.
An opening.
And at the top, embedded in the panel, something you’d miss so easily if you weren’t looking around carefully—a ring.
For pulling open a trapdoor.
“Simon. You found something.”
Simon knelt down, and she watched him pry the ring up.
But it wouldn’t move. Simon’s smile vanished.
“Kate, can you try to help?”
Now both of her kids had their fingers trying to lock on the ring, but still it remained stuck, as if the ring wasn’t designed to pop open at all.
“Need something to pry it open,” Christie said. She looked around for a tool—probably unlikely to be found—or simply a sturdy piece of metal.
And always the idea that this was another pointless search.
Wondering how many dead ends she could take before she cracked, even as she knew she had to be strong for her family.
Then, off in a corner, she saw a twisted chunk of metal, maybe from a storm window frame that had broken, the jagged metal piece just left here.
Would it be strong enough?
She didn’t wait for the kids to help her but walked as quickly as she could with her cane to the storeroom’s back left corner, reached down and picked up the piece of metal.
As soon as she felt it, she knew that if the ring could be pried open, this metal
rod could do it.
The metal hard, unyielding when she tried to make it bow.
Solid enough, she thought.
She hurried back to where her two kids still clawed at the ring.
“Try this,” she said. “Wedge it under the ring.” She handed Simon the bar.
Now she watched her kids work the bar back and forth, trying to get under the ring, make it open up.
Please, she thought. If the ring was that resistant, then people could easily have ignored it, even if they saw it.
And if it had been ignored, there could be something down there.
Back and forth, her kids worked with the metal piece… like a book she had read to them both centuries ago.
Two Little Miners.
Then, “Mom, Mom! It’s moving,” Simon said.
And with a click—one of the best sounds she had heard in her life—the ring popped up, as if getting it freed from its entrenched hole wasn’t difficult at all.
“Okay,” Christie said. “Put one tip of the bar into the ring, then bring the bar down to the floor, try to…”
She realized how hard it was to explain such a simple principle as using a bar as a lever.
But she could see—even in this darkness—that Simon understood what to do, and with Kate’s help, now had the bar flush to the ground, then both of them pulling up on it, trying different angles.
When—the most amazing thing of all—the trap door began to open with another welcome sound, a loud creaking.
Until halfway up, it suddenly became easy for her kids to flip it fully open.
Exposing a dark basement.
And for a moment they all just stood around the gaping hole.
Christie leaned forward, peering down.
Kate confirmed the problem: “I can’t see a thing.”
But Simon, on his stomach on the floor, had leaned down with one arm, waving it back and forth.
“There are stairs,” he said. “We can get down.”
“But we can’t see!” Kate said.
Christie made a decision. Fast, and one she questioned—for so many reasons as soon as she said it.
“Kate, run to the car, go get our flashlight. It’s worth a shot. But be careful!”
It was getting dark, and though it would undoubtedly be safer if they all trudged back to the car at Christie’s speed, the trapdoor was open, there was a ladder. Kate could just get the light, hurry back.
Kate looked at her mom as if recognizing the risk of what was being proposed.
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