Evergreen (Book 4): Nuclear Summer

by Cox, Matthew S.

  “You think his friends killed him?” Harper blinked.

  “Not saying that specifically. If someone did this for a personal reason, it is most likely one of them since they have history. Unless he ended up in bed with someone’s wife in the month or so they’d been here. Roy, you mind heading up this investigation?”

  Roy bowed his head, sweat beads on his scalp shimmering in the sun. “You know I’m not a detective. Asking me to lead an investigation might get the police union mad at me.”

  Walter chuckled, as did some of the farm workers. “I’m sure they’ll make an exception, considering the circumstances.”

  “Right.” Roy laughed. “If they file a grievance, I expect you to testify on my behalf.”

  “You got it.” Walter patted him on the shoulder.

  Harper let a silent sigh of relief out her nose at not being thrown into a metaphorical frying pan. She hadn’t gotten stuck with the ‘case’ of investigating who killed Weldon. A case that, given the ‘Wild West’ state of the world—or at least the USA—could easily be impossible to solve. Annoyingly, she also felt somewhat slighted. After all, she’d been the first militia person to discover the remains, and he hadn’t even thought to give her the job.

  Walter putting Roy in charge of the investigation made sense, considering the guy had been a cop for something like fifteen years before the war. Even though Walter had also worked with the Sheriff’s department, he mostly sat behind a desk. She had no idea if sheriff’s deputies had experience investigating murders or not. Either way, Walter still mostly sat behind a desk. He probably couldn’t manage the militia and investigate a case himself simultaneously.

  “Well, first step. Let’s get him over to the medical center and see if the doctors can tell us anything useful.” Roy looked at Harper. “Would you mind grabbing the cart?”

  “Sure.” She slung the Mossberg over her shoulder on its strap. “How did detectives do stuff before computers? I mean, we don’t even have cameras.”

  “Lots of legwork,” said Walter.

  Roy chuckled. “Yeah. Talking to people, reading their responses, mostly. And they did have old time cameras. People got so used to using phones for pictures, actual cameras kinda died off. At least ones that used film. Unless you’re talking about professional photographers.”

  “They found a bunch of camera stuff in one of the houses when we gathered up everything useful, but no one bothered to take any of it.” Walter shook his head. “Don’t really need to worry about that, anyway. It’ll be a couple decades before jury trials are a thing again… if ever.”

  “Want me to do a sketch?” Harper pulled her little notepad out of her back pocket.

  Roy made a ‘be my guest’ gesture. “Knock yourself out.”

  She took a few steps back, surveyed the layout of the dead man, and sketched out a basic drawing that captured the overall position of the remains in relation to the surroundings. On the next page, she drew a close up of the three stab wounds to show their relative size and arrangement. That done, she tore both papers from the notepad and gave them to Roy.

  “Not bad.” He held the drawings up. “You must’ve gotten an A in art class.”

  “Doodled a lot. Mostly dumb stuff.” She exhaled and stuffed the notebook in her pocket. “Be right back with the body cart.”

  3

  Optimism

  Except for finding a dead man, the day ended up being fairly routine.

  Free of worry about solving a murder, Harper spent the rest of the afternoon walking patrol, returning home to watch her siblings at around the time they would normally have been out of school. The kids got to leave the farm at noon, or as close to noon as anyone could guess. It bothered her somewhat not to rush right home with them, but Carrie Rangel from next door happily looked after them whenever needed. The woman had fallen into a sort of mom role to all of them, even Harper. Lorelei, however, still considered Harper to be more of a mother than an older sister, always running to her on the occasion something scared her.

  The kids liked Carrie, and so did Cliff.

  Since Madison had more or less put the pieces of her shattered emotional state back together, the driving need to stay by her side constantly had diminished to a strong want. While Harper would have preferred to be with her kid sister all the time, she could handle ‘growing up’ and having a job to do without being a huge bundle of nerves the entire time they remained separated. Madison still had bad dreams every so often and needed comforting, but that only happened at night when they’d all be home.

  Patrolling the residential area south of the school had become an ingrained habit after most of a year. Hours every day going in circles around the neighborhood allowed her to pick up on anything that appeared out of place as well as get to know—and be known by—everyone living there. A few older people regarded her as a kid, though didn’t act too patronizing. Every time Mr. MacPherson told her she ought to settle down and just be a kid, she’d end up having a somber daydream about her old life. Once or twice, she even considered stepping down from the militia, but didn’t know what she’d do ‘job’ wise other than that. Things had been relatively stable for a while, but she couldn’t give up Dad’s shotgun and she would never forgive herself if anything happened to her expanded family. As opposite to her old personality as being a ‘cop’ was, it had come to feel normal, even comforting.

  Harper arrived home a little after two in the afternoon to an empty house.

  Assuming the kids would be at Carrie’s, she went there and knocked.

  “Come in,” said Carrie. “Harper, you don’t have to knock here.”

  “Sorry. Old habit.” She poked her head in, spotted the woman on the couch, and no sign of the kids. “Umm, where is everyone?”

  “Out exploring. They’re roaming around the unassigned houses in the northeast.”

  “What?” Harper stared. The world to her still felt like it consisted of Evergreen, surrounded by the Lawless gang—or people just like them—waiting to attack any defenseless children. “They’re running around on their own?”

  “Things aren’t like they used to be.” Carrie patted the sofa next to her. “None of them are that little. When my parents were kids in the seventies, they didn’t need to have a parent up their noses constantly. Used to go outside in the afternoon and come home by dark. Soon as the street lights came on, that was time to get your ass home. We’ve gone back to a world like that—except the street lights don’t work. Tight-knit community. Everyone here more or less knows everyone. Not like we have nut jobs from out of state driving into town willy nilly.”

  Harper leaned the shotgun on the sofa arm and flopped down to sit. “I guess. Still going to worry until they’re back.”

  “It’s been quiet a bit. Don’t rightly figure another missile’s going to hit us. And if any outsiders show up wanting to stir up a mess, they’ll go for the farm.”

  “What if someone wanders into town and sees a group of defenseless children?” Harper raked her hands through her hair, pulling it down over her face. “Argh. Am I being paranoid?”

  “I made sure they know they’re expected to run away from anyone they don’t recognize.”

  “They could get into all sorts of trouble in random houses. What if they find knives or start a fire or—”

  Carrie squeezed her hand. “This isn’t the same world you grew up in, hon. A person doesn’t build up resistance to getting sick by living in a germ-free bubble. Better they learn how to cope with what’s happened, this new world, gradually, on their own terms than something catches them off guard down the line and they don’t know how to react.”

  “Like me…” whispered Harper.

  “Hmm?”

  “I hesitated when Dad died. Maybe you’re right. I wasn’t ready for the world to change so much in only two months.” Harper let her head sink back against the sofa. “Maddie’s already shot someone and she’s not even eleven yet.”

  “Another one?” Carrie blinked. �
�You didn’t tell me she killed a man.”

  Harper smiled, shaking her head. “No. She hasn’t killed anyone. Just winged the one guy I already told you about. But, seriously… she went from being all about dance class, dolls, and Starbucks to needing a gun to avoid being kidnapped by a gang of thugs. Guess letting them explore the town on their own probably isn’t too horrible. Probably not too safe either.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would bother you that much.” Carrie let go of her hand. “I’ll keep them in sight from now on.”

  While that would make her feel better, she wondered if being too clingy and controlling might cause Madison, Jonathan, and Lorelei to either grow to resent her, rebel and do something far more dangerous, or end up unprepared to handle a situation the same way she’d been when the Lawless invaded her former home. Her parents had—by any normal person’s estimation—kinda coddled her. Being thrown into a broken world almost overwhelmed her ability to handle it. If not for Madison to look after, she probably wouldn’t have survived those first few days before meeting Cliff and Jonathan.

  “As long as they stay relatively close, avoid people they don’t know, and get back here before dark, it’s okay. Guess they have to do something more mentally stimulating than throwing a ball around.” Harper scratched at her leg. “Where’s Renee?”

  “Meeting with Anne-Marie. They’re working hard learning how to make fabric and clothing from scratch. Starting to get some usable flax from the farm to make linen from, and the seeds are nutritious. Can’t say I fancy the flavor, but they taste better than starvation.”

  Harper nodded. “Neat. That sounds useful. Better than standing around holding a howitzer.”

  “Heh. Don’t go feeling all useless now. What you do is important, too.”

  “I know. Just wish it could be something less violent. The universe has such a lame sense of irony.”

  Carrie stood. “That it does. Tea?”

  “Sure.”

  After talking with Carrie over tea for a while, Harper returned home to do a little cleaning.

  Even nuclear war didn’t bring an end to housework. While scrubbing the toilet, she got the bright idea to have Jonathan and Madison start helping out on some easier tasks like sweeping. Enough modern cleaning supplies remained to see them well into next year, but eventually, they’d be full 1800s. Then again, what purpose did it serve to keep the place immaculate?

  We’re clinging to life after nukes. Who cares if I scrub the floor? She frowned. Everything’s going to fall apart, eventually. If I have grandchildren, they’ll be living in shacks made of rusting cars or tents. Ugh. No they won’t. I’ve watched too many damn movies. People had normal houses in the 1800s, right? She argued with herself about how far back things went. In the Old West, everyone had been used to building things using the tools and techniques available at the time. Modern people, even those trained as carpenters or engineers, had become reliant on technology that no longer worked.

  “Meh. It can’t be that hard to build a house. Just feels hard to me because I don’t understand it.”

  She resumed cleaning the bathroom, more than a little annoyed that the end of civilization hadn’t gotten her out of doing chores.

  Once she’d done enough cleaning to feel justified in relaxing, Harper flopped on the sofa and pulled out The Secret Garden. She stared defiantly at the book that refused to let her finish it. Before she could even open the cover, the voices of kids arose outside, among them Jonathan, Madison, and Lorelei. She also picked out Mila, Eva, and Becca.

  She set the book down and ran over to Carrie’s backyard to make sure none of the kids had lost any limbs. All appeared intact, though Lorelei looked like a clown, having gotten into someone’s cosmetics stash.

  Soon after the kids returned, Carrie collected enough food to make up for her and Renee joining them for dinner, and brought it over to the cinder block grill in the yard behind Harper’s home. Renee arrived while dinner cooked. She gave off an air of exhaustion, reminding her of the expression on Mom’s face almost all the time when she came home from work.

  The kids ran around the yard playing while Carrie did most of the cooking. Harper and Renee relaxed on the tiny back porch, trying to remember how to be teenagers. Of course, neither of them talked about music, movies, boys, school, or any of the things they’d once been interested in. Renee had gotten wind of the dead man, so Harper told her about it before they migrated into a conversation about flax, weaving, and frustration.

  Cliff showed up a few minutes after the sun weakened and turned orange. Everyone filed inside for dinner, which consisted of canned beans, box spaghetti, and various grilled fresh vegetables. Carrie had made ‘steaks’ out of thick turnip slices as well as potatoes. Despite the food being nowhere near close to anything she’d have eaten before idiots turned the world on its head, Harper felt eerily normal.

  Having dinner at home with two ‘parents,’ Madison, two additional siblings, and her best friend struck her as simultaneously wrong and perfect. It felt as though she’d gone back in time, a spirit inhabiting the body of some other girl who belonged to some other family who lived before electricity had been discovered. She still missed her real parents to a painful degree, but Cliff made for an excellent adopted father. Carrie, too, had become more like a mother than ‘the woman next door.’ Except for Lorelei, the siblings knew exactly what happened when Cliff went over to visit her sometimes at night. Madison always made icky faces at the thought. Harper had almost teased her by asking what she thought Mom and Dad used to do when alone together, but kept quiet. Nothing could ruin a moment of levity as fast as reminding her of their dead parents.

  Too soon, as it were.

  However, in the moment sitting there having dinner with her new family like something out of the frontier days, she felt lucky for the first time since Dad hauled her out of bed minutes before the sky burned. Ending up here in Evergreen with her sister alive, having people she considered family around her, food, and a roof over their heads had to be way better off than most survivors. Sure, a serious problem at the farm could still result in food shortages, but it still beat living in a place like the Army camp.

  Harper nearly choked on a mouthful of potato at the thought of her friend Darci in that place, sleeping with random men in exchange for food. She wondered if the three who tried to rape her had taken her friend up on that offer. That thought made her skin crawl more than watching the soldiers execute them. If she and Madison had been collected by the Army and brought there, not only would they have confiscated Dad’s Mossberg, Harper more than likely would have done the exact same thing to make sure Madison got enough to eat. Also, she’d never have met Cliff and had the benefit of some instruction in hand-to-hand combat.

  She sat still for a moment, fighting the urge to cry or look emotional. Her first time couldn’t be something as horrible as trading herself for survival. Even though the world had crumbled, she still wanted her first time to matter, to be wonderful. That being here in Evergreen, having this life, spared her from the need to do something like that, stole her voice. Cliff noticed her unusually grateful stare, but no one else appeared to pick up on the brief surge of emotion radiating from her.

  Once the expected talk of the dead man discovered that morning got out of the way, dinner conversation mostly consisted of the kids talking about their exploration and what they did on the farm.

  After dinner, Harper returned to the sofa, determined to make some progress in The Secret Garden. Renee followed, also deciding to read something. The kids went outside to play in the yard, soon joined by Eva, Becca, and Mila once they finished having dinner at their homes.

  Harper managed a chapter and a half before the kids distracted her with a conversation about ghosts. They debated if spirits really existed and if all the cities that got nuked would contain ‘millions’ of angry ghosts. This, of course, sent Harper’s mind wandering in that direction. She daydreamed a movie of people stuck in a bombed-out city popul
ated mostly by angry ghosts.

  “’Nee?”

  “Hmm?” asked Renee.

  “You think society’s going to pull itself back together or are we three generations away from people going tribal?”

  Renee closed her book over one finger to hold her place. “Hmm. I don’t think it’s going to be ‘spears and loincloths’ tribal. The tech that survived isn’t going to evaporate. Like, there’s bicycles and people know how to make clothes. People didn’t lose all knowledge of what we used to have. I think it’s gonna turn into some kind of weird steampunk Old West sorta thing where a guy in a cowboy hat rides up on a mountain bike with saddle bags and like pulls out a beat up laptop.”

  Harper laughed. “Where’s he going to find a laptop a century from now? And how’d he charge it?”

  “Steam generator, naturally.” Renee held her nose up, but only kept a serious face for a moment before cracking up.

  “Right. Not solar panels?”

  “Seriously? The way they go down?” Renee sighed. “It was nice for a little while, but the power is off more than on now. I heard someone talking at the quartermaster’s this afternoon. Jeanette and her people are trying to make windmills for electricity.”

  Harper perked up. “Oh, cool. That sounds like a better idea than solar. Never run out of wind.”

  “The sun’s not gonna dry up either.” Renee poked her.

  “No, dork.” Harper poked her back. “I mean, the solar panels don’t last forever and they’re fickle. Wind generators are much simpler, right? Just coils of wire and some stuff that rotates. No funny chemicals.”

  Renee shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. But it’s not the panels that are fickle. It’s the wiring they’ve Frankensteined together. True, the skies are kinda hazy, so the panels aren’t putting out as much as they could. Wind doesn’t have that problem. Someone was even talking about trying to take fan blades from jet engines at Denver airport, but I don’t think they’re going to even try that until they have a working truck.”