After the Day- Red Tide

by Matthew Gilman

  Opening the back of his skull, the doctors removed the tumor that was woven through the tissue. Parts of his brain were taken with the tumor to makes sure they had most of it. Afterwards, he started chemo.

  The treatment didn’t last long. He was constantly told he was going to die. Even after the surgery the doctors told him the odds of surviving were less than 10%. Chris was pissed. His girlfriend would bring in food that he was craving. The hospital staff would get upset that he wasn’t sticking to the diet.

  “I’m going to die and I can’t eat what I want?” he would yell before taking a big bite out of a bacon cheeseburger.

  Eventually, he left. Ripping out the IV and changing into his clothes, he marched out of the hospital against medical advice and went home. He figured he had weeks to live.

  During his time at Fort Hood in Texas, Chris had been introduced to the fun of the American drug culture. On a military base it was possible to get anything. If you wanted weed ask the guy next to you. Do you need meth to help your energy levels during basic? Find the closest redneck and he can point you in the right direction. There was nothing you could not get and if it wasn’t on the base you could go into town and contacts would hook you up.

  Chris tried everything. What he liked most was mushrooms. Tripping out and seeing a new world in the realm of the old one. There had been times when his buddies had to throw him back in the car because he swore a street sign was mocking him and tried to start a fight.

  Now he was waiting to die and he wanted to experience those trips again. The fun times that existed in the past.

  He went to a local smoke shop and picked up a mushroom kit with the spores he would grow in the bathroom. He waited a few days and finally the little shrooms he recognized were there. He picked, ate, and repeated.

  He tripped non-stop for weeks. When he wasn’t tripping he went to the hospital and checked on the progress of his tumor.

  “Have you been sticking to the diet we put you on?” the doctor asked.

  “Fuck no,” Chris would reply.

  “No meds?”

  “Nope.”

  “Any holistic treatment you’re trying?” the doctor continued.

  “Look, if it’s getting worse and I’m going to die, I don’t care.”

  The doctor sat down.

  “Chris, the reason I’m asking these questions is because your tumor has gotten smaller. It’s disappearing and I have no idea how that is happening. I have nothing to do with what is going on in your head. So, whatever it is you’re doing, keep doing it.”

  Chris left the hospital drove straight to the smoke hut and bought every mushroom kit they had.

  Weeks later he would return to the hospital and receive the same news. A year later his tumor was gone. He still had a few impairments. He was legally blind in his right eye. His memory was not what it used to be. He could be talked into just about anything which made him easy prey to the Amway and Quick Star crowds. Life would not be easy. Jobs would come and go. Chris would continue to push on.

  Seven years later he was still clear of the cancer doctors told him would end his life. When he thought about it later, he swore he would never listen to a doctor again.

  “I don’t listen to stupid,” was a common phrase he would find himself saying out loud. A few times it caused a ruckus when guys at the bar thought he was talking to them.

  “Who are you calling stupid?” These were the words Chris would hear before being hauled off of a bar stool.

  “What is going on?” he said the first few times not knowing what was happening. He thought out loud a lot. Some thought it was a Freudian slip, simply put that part of his brain was gone.

  Riding through an old farm field, Chris dozed off on his horse and awoke later to find the horse eating on the edge of a field. He wasn’t sure if it was the same field.

  Pulling out a compass he continued on and found a house. Like most it appeared empty. He tied his horse to the fence and went inside. He didn’t get his gun out anymore. Casually walking in and finding what he suspected, dead bodies. He made this his other task. He would drag the bodies out. Dig a ditch and in the end place a cross on the graves. Sometimes he would find old mail in the house and put the names on the cross but that didn’t mean these were the people that lived here before The Day. Things changed quickly after The Day and many people migrated to their previous hometowns and to the hills. The locals that stayed would move from their old homes to new ones that had fireplaces and well water.

  So, the cross stayed and he eventually left the names off.

  Markets had sprung up over the country. They were small places that locals could barter and trade. Most of these places had rules about weapons and etiquette. He would search the house for valuables and take with him what he could. Ammo and canned food were still high on the list. He would grab books to keep him busy at night while sitting by the fire. His favorite, at the moment, was Dianetics.

  The next day he rode on and found a house sitting on the side of a country road. Many of the neighboring houses had burned down so he had hopes this one would have somebody to talk to. As he rode up the driveway he spotted people out back. A man and woman were hanging clothes on the line for drying.

  The man walked up, a stern look worn on his face.

  “Can I help you?” the man said.

  “My name is Chris. I’m looking for former military that are interested in joining a militia.” Chris tried to vary the intro but eventually worked himself into the same line.

  “Nope, never joined. Can’t help you.” the man said.

  “Do you have any food?” Chris asked hoping to build up his supplies. “I can pay.”

  “Pay, pay with what? Food is money these days.” the man said.

  Chris pulled a bag out of his pocket and the clinking of coins caught the man’s attention.

  “Silver is still silver.” Chris said.

  “That it is.” the man said waving him off the horse. “Candice, we have company for dinner.”

  The girl was young, too young to be with the man unless he was her father. She had dark hair like the man; dirty, greasy, and unkempt. Her clothes were a little tight, having already out grown them.

  Chris left his horse outside and placed his rifle by the door when he went into the house. He kept his sidearm on.

  The girl filled a cast iron pan with water and started adding veggies and meat. Chris wasn’t sure what kind of meat it was but figured it was some kind of rodent.

  The man and Chris sat in the dining room and Chris told him about the Chinese in the country and how a militia was being created to fight against them.

  “How often you see anybody else?” the man asked.

  “Not often,” Chris said. “Lately I spend more time dragging bodies out of houses and putting them to rest. If people didn’t starve to death in the first year they died from the flu afterwards.”

  “I got sick but it didn’t put me under.” the man said. “Candice, where is that food?”

  Chris could hear the clinking of metal and cups. A few minutes later the girl brought out bowls of food. Soup was on the menu tonight, the house special. Chris picked a piece of meat out of the soup.

  “Coon?” he asked.

  “Possum.” the man said. “Little bastards are annoying but we put ‘em to use when they come by.”

  Chris ate the soup and admitted to himself the possum wasn’t too bad.

  After the meal, Candice picked up the bowls and carried them to the kitchen. The man thanked her and grabbed her butt cheek as she walked away. The look on her face was not one of amusement. Chris was picking up on things real quick.

  “Who else lived here before?” Chris asked.

  “Well, her mom died of the flu. My son went out hunting one day but never came back. Don’t know what ever happened to him. Since then it has been me and Candice.” He turned and winked at her in the kitchen.

  Chris had a nauseating feeling in his gut and it wasn’t from the food.
/>
  “Really, I have to thank who ever blew up Washington. These days you can do what you want and nobody can say a thing about it. You must be living it up going wherever you want, doing whatever you want.” the man said.

  Chris would have sworn he was drunk with this kind of honesty.

  “Granted, there isn’t much to do at night. No television or radio but we make up for it.” The man turned to Candice again.

  Chris realized his hand was on his gun under the table. Why was it when he finally found people they were messed up in the head? Were these the people that God decided to leave on the planet?

  “Hey, if you want, for an extra piece of silver you can have a go at Candice. She might like something different, what do you say Candice?” The man turned and said into the kitchen where Candice was rinsing out the bowls in the sink.

  Chris cocked the hammer back on his 9mm, he was sure of his aim even at his hip. The man was only a few feet away.

  “I have a better idea.” Chris said.

  “Oh, the horse? Oh, I haven’t seen anything like that since the internet went down.” the man said.

  Chris decided to make the next step as quick as possible.

  He fired the gun. Wood flew up from the table hitting the ceiling and wall. The man jolted in his chair. Chris stood up aiming the gun at the man. The man was already dead. Chris’s aim was true and he had hit the man in the heart. One round spent and spent well.

  The girl stayed in the kitchen. The house was quiet except for the ringing in his ears. Chris put the gun in his holster and walked into the kitchen. The girl was quiet. She didn’t seem scared.

  “He was a bad man.” Chris said.

  “I know.” the girl said.

  “Was he your dad?” Chris asked.

  She nodded.

  “I know of a place I can take you. Where there are good people. Do you want to go?”

  “Yes.” she said.

  “Ok, I’ll get him out of here. We will spend the night here and leave in the morning.”

  “Ok,” the girl said.

  Chris stepped out of the house and checked on his horse. Inside the house he heard glass breaking and the dinging of metal. When things quieted down he walked back in the house. She was in the living room, covered in sweat, staring out into space.

  The man’s body was covered in broken glass and had been beaten with a frying pan. His body lay on the floor. She took out her anger on his corpse the way she couldn’t when he was alive.

  Chris dragged the body outside and grabbed a shovel.

  “No,” Candice said. “Leave him to rot.”

  Chris dragged the body out into the field and left him out in the open. Coyotes and other scavengers would find his body and devour his remains.

  In the house Chris slept on the couch and Candice slept in her room. When he awoke the next morning she was sleeping on the floor next to the couch. He imagined that her abuse happened often in the bedroom.

  She packed a bag and Chris loaded up what food he could fit in the saddle bags. Candice sat behind him as they rode. He figured they were a few days from the town he would leave her in. On his way back he would still continue his mission and try to find more recruits but he was starting to lose hope. Candice didn’t talk. She gripped onto his back and stayed close to him. Chris guessed she might be twelve years old. She probably didn’t remember The Day and her life was a long memory of being left with her dad. The son probably ran away to get away from the same abuse.

  At one point in their travels Chris spotted a deer and grabbed the rifle. He enjoyed hunting with the M4 more than he did using it in battle. He set the cross hairs on the deer and dropped it where it stood. They rode up to the deer and Chris gutted and cleaned the animal. It was late summer so he had to work quickly. He had Candice look for fresh live branches of hard wood. Chris made a teepee style structure. He started a fire at the base. While the fire grew he skinned the deer and started cutting strips of meat off the hind quarters. Candice tied sticks across the supporting beams of the teepee and she hung the meat over them. Two hours later a good portion of the deer was gone and hanging on the sticks. Chris covered the teepee with a tarp and threw the fresh pieces of hickory on the fire. The smoke pushed its way out of the cracks and the lack of air helped the smoking process along. They would be spending the night at that spot. Chris dragged the rest of the deer away. When he came back Candice had already made a separate fire. He was quickly learning she was accustomed to taking care of herself.

  The next morning Chris collected the dried jerky from the teepee and filled a couple of plastic bags. The smell of the dead deer was starting to creep over to the camp and they packed up and left.

  They rode all day. Taking pit stops only, they ate as they rode. As the sun was setting Chris recognized the area and knew he was close to the town. Instead of going to town he went to the house of the person he needed to take Candice to. Riding up the two track drive, Chris spotted the cabin and smelled wood and food cooking. Even now a home cooked meal smelled better than anything he found on the road. He stopped the horse in front of the cabin and knocked on the door.

  “Fatima,” Chris said to the woman.

  “Chris hi,” she said through the screen. Fatima had a look of concern, her husband being gone for weeks now and not hearing any word. “Have you heard from John?”

  “No, I’m here about something else.” He waved to Candice who still sat on the horse. “May I come in?”

  Fatima opened the door and Chris stepped in. He smelled of hickory and his beard had grown longer since the last time she had seen him.

  “The girl out there, her name is Candice. I found her at a house with her father. He was not being very fatherly to her. He’s dead and she needs a home. I’m not saying here. I’m sure somebody would take her in but she does need to be checked out.”

  “Was he the only one?” Fatima asked.

  “I don’t know, he offered her to me before… he expired.”

  “I see,” Fatima looked through the screen door. She saw the girl on the horse. “Bring her in.”

  As Fatima walked away he noticed how big her stomach had gotten.

  “When are you due?” he asked.

  “Who knows these days.” she said. “When the baby is ready it will tell me.”

  Chris brought Candice in and Fatima introduced herself. Fatima took her behind a curtained area and did what exams she could. Candice appeared to be healthy but showed signs of abuse, scars, and some bruises that were disappearing. Fatima heated up some water and let her bathe. Chris sat at the dining room table entertaining the kids while Fatima did her job.

  “I think I know a couple that will take her in.” Fatima said to Chris. “She can stay here for the night and I’ll take her to town tomorrow.” Chris slept outside that night.

  He used the tarp as a make shift tent and slept comfortably. He awoke early the next morning and packed up. This had become his routine over the months and he stuck with it.

  As he rode off he heard the screen door slam shut. He turned and saw Candice on the porch watching him leave. She was sad. He turned back around. His job was done. He was going back on the road and continuing his mission.

  The Next day Fatima packed up the cart along with the children as she normally did. The only thing that was different was the young girl that followed behind. As they walked the few miles to the market Fatima tried to keep a conversation going to build trust with Candice. Fatima realized over time the only person that Candice currently trusted was Chris and he was gone. She felt bad for this girl and by the time they reached the town, she knew the family that Candice should be with.

  Instead of going straight to the market Fatima took Candice to the home of a young couple that had three children. Joe and Karin were young but unlike some of the people in town they were full of hope for the future regardless of how hard things got. They were always positive and Fatima was amazed how they always had a smile on their faces.

  The kn
ock on the door brought Joe out and he was surprised to have company.

  “Fatima, how are you?” he asked as he looked around and saw the kids, the cart and a young girl that he didn’t recognize.

  “Joe, can I come in for a minute?” Fatima asked.

  She stepped inside and told Joe Candice’s story. After the few minutes of explanation Joe called Karin into the room and they quickly agreed to let the girl stay with them. They had an extra room in the house and by the end of the day an extra bed was brought over from a neighbor and Candice had a place she could call home.

  Fatima grabbed the cart and went to the market. She was later than she normally was but the day turned out to be as normal as it usually was. Later at home she thought about Candice and wondered if she would be okay or if she was just as scared as everyone else. That night Candice was the last thing to cross her mind before she drifted off into the realm of dreams.

  Chapter 7: Upstate New York

  New York State, the northern Appalachian Mountains, a man stalked through the woods. He hunted the local deer, the primary meat source for his diet. He now hunted the way he always wanted to, full camouflage and year round. There were no game wardens and the woods provided for him and him alone. He found fresh muddy tracks and marked the spot with a piece of red twine. He moved again and tried to find more signs of deer in the area. He still had pounds of meat stored away at his house but liked to stay ahead of the game when it came to food storage.

  He stayed out for another few hours then figured it was time to head home. Finding the nearest road he traveled back to his house. He hadn’t seen anybody in these parts for the past two years. Many left the area after the bomb to be with family. Others died over the winter from the flu. He considered himself lucky that he never contracted it. He was lost in thought as he walked a steady pace home. He looked up and saw a doe standing by the road. He stopped and removed his rifle from his shoulder. Before he could get a shot off the deer bolted into the woods leaving nothing but the sight of its white rear-end saying goodbye.