“He’s just old-fashioned.”
I peered at her curiously, surprised at her reception. “You picked up on that?” Simon wandered over, rubbing up against me. I frowned down at the cat. “I know. You’re hungry. Soon we’ll have food…I hope.” I grabbed him and set him on my lap. He settled down and began purring.
“His age gives it away, and how he treats you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was racist.” Naomi’s gaze sought the solace of the dusty floor suddenly.
“No,” I said. “He’s not. Just homophobic.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It could be worse,” I admitted, shrugging. “He still loves me, just not my potential significant others. I can live with that.”
“But you shouldn’t have to.”
“I agree with that completely.” I tried to focus on running my hands through Simon’s soft fur rather than the ache seeping into my heart. The ache had strings attached that toted along pieces of loneliness and the desire for acceptance like little tugboats. “There’s just not a lot I can do about it. He needs me.”
“Don’t take offense to this, but have you ever thought about placing him in a home?”
“More than once. As long as he still has his senses about him, he wouldn’t stand for it.”
“Sometimes we don’t have that choice.”
“I guess the problem is that I have a choice. And he has no one else.”
“You’re strong, Sam.”
I shrugged again. “I don’t feel it.”
She put an arm around me. With her other, she fished around in her bag and pulled out two miniature chocolate bars. Smiling, she handed me one.
I returned the smile, taking the chocolate and unwrapping it. They were the tiny bars people gave out on Halloween. “Why on Earth did you think to grab these?”
“I didn’t,” she laughed. “They were just in there from my dieting days. I kept chocolate stashes around the house. You know, for emergencies.” She grinned.
She wasn’t what I’d call overweight, just a little soft around the edges. I was glad she wasn’t dieting anymore. Women who dieted weren’t nearly as fun as those who just tried to be happy for who they were. I wasn’t exactly pencil-thin either, more broad-shouldered and thick-limbed than anything. Sturdy. My lack of height made me look heavier than I really was, I supposed. I returned the grin and munched. “What else you got in there I don’t know about?”
“Well, there’s this.” She finished her chocolate and pulled out a small metal garden trowel with a green handle.
I raised an eyebrow at her.
“This wasn’t in my earthquake kit either. I carried it outside when I first heard the UFO land.” She chuckled. “I had been pruning my indoor herb garden, repotting one of my thyme plants. And I just ran out, hanging onto this damn thing for dear life, scared shitless. When I went back to grab my bag, I kept hauling it around. And look, it made it all the way here!”
I laughed. “That’s great. That reminds me of the earthquake we had in…What year was it…ninety-four?”
“Oh, down south? Northridge?”
“Yeah, we were living in the valley back then. I was in middle school, and my parents were still together. It was at like, four in the morning. My dad had gotten up for work. So he was in the shower, and my mom was making his lunch and wiping down the kitchen counters.”
“See!” she said. “That’s why he’s old-fashioned, with a fantastic wife like your momma! He never let that part of the marriage go.”
“So true.” I frowned, and then decided the story was about my mother, not Bruce. “The earthquake starts. My dad runs out of the shower, somehow manages to throw a robe on, and comes to get me. My bed was in between two bookshelves, and I’m freaking out as books and puzzles are falling on top of my head.”
I paused, taking a breath. “My dad insisted that we run outside, so we made our way to the living room. Our hallway had shelves all along it loaded with vases and breakable stuff, and all that crap was falling on the floor, shattering.”
Naomi grinned. “Hallway of doom.”
I returned the grin and continued. “My mom freaked out because I cut my foot, yet somehow we made it outside. When the shaking had finally stopped, my mom held up a sponge. We asked her why she had been clutching a sponge, and she told us that was what she had happened to be holding, and had just held it the entire time. She was all, ‘I wish I had my cigarettes and not this stupid sponge!’”
Naomi burst into laughter, and I joined her. “Damn, that sounds just like me,” she said.
“Exactly! Just think, years down the road you’ll be telling your grandkids about how the aliens held you captive in a goddamn school gymnasium, and all you had was your stupid gardening trowel!”
“Oh man.” Naomi was laughing so hard she had to hold her stomach. “Thank you, Sam. I needed that!”
I smiled. “I think you would have liked my mom.”
“I’m sure I would have. But I see a pretty good view of her anyway, through you.” She beamed down at me, and I suddenly felt bashful. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think since we have some quiet time, I’m going to take a nap.” She stood up, stretched, and went to her blanket, tossing me one last smile.
“That sounds like a really good idea.” I dragged Simon with me to my dad’s blanket and fell into an exhausted sleep.
I awoke this time to my dad hovering directly above me. “Sam, wake up!”
“God dammit!” I yelled, startled. “Can’t you find another way to get me up?”
“I tried. You couldn’t hear me.”
“That’s because I was finally sound asleep!”
“But you need to feed me.”
I sighed. Of course. “And just how am I supposed to manage…oh.” My gaze fell on the huge cardboard box of supplies in the center of our room before I could finish the thought. “Wow, I must have been out of it. I didn’t even hear them deliver that.” I stood up, wincing. “What time is it?” I asked in a mumble. “And was there any trouble with them giving us this stuff, considering…Well, you know.”
“After six p.m. And no, no issues.”
“No wonder you’re hungry. So am I. Wonder what the hell they got us.” I journeyed over to the giant box, peeking inside. Must have been a refrigerator box or something. It was barely short enough for me to climb into. David was already inside it, grabbing cans of fruit and loaves of bread, handing them to the people standing outside.
Naomi was checking her list with the contents David was pulling out. “Canned fruit, bread, peanut butter, tuna fish, cereal, oatmeal, crackers, cookies, cat food, evaporated milk, coffee, juice, water, beef jerky…”
“Coffee?” My ears perked up. “How are we supposed to heat water?”
“Camp stove!” David pointed to where he had placed it on our drink station bench.
“Nice. Now all we need is a campfire and some weenies to roast. And tents, for some sort of privacy.” I glared at my father, who refused to meet my gaze.
“We thought of that already,” David said. He pointed to a stack of pup tents near the box. There were about five cots too. “Those are for the elderly,” he added, noticing I had been eyeing them. “We also got blankets. One per person. And two commode chairs and a litter pan. They’ve agreed to dispose of our waste.”
“Cool, cool,” I said, stifling a yawn. “Didn’t ask for a baby fridge? A shower-in-a-bag?”
“No, our list was huge enough,” Naomi said with a smile. “Next time I figure.” She joined me on the other side of the box. “We got paper plates, napkins, more cups, silverware, toilet paper, cat litter, and even some battery-operated lanterns for nighttime. A couple board games for the kids. Looks like they got everything.” She looked relieved.
Simon rubbed up against me, meowing. I grabbed a can of cat food from David’s pile and fed him on a paper plate. He dived in hungrily, purring his thanks.
David pointed to a small pile of boxes. “For your dad.”
�
�Oh, good.” I pawed through the boxes. All four of his medications were there, as well as a blood glucose monitor and test strips. I wasn’t entirely sure the milligrams were correct, but Bruce would know, and I could cut the pills if need be. There was a box of his formula and the plastic syringes I needed. I gathered up everything, a cup of water, a knife and spoon to grind up the pills, and took my dad to our bench. “Wonder where they got all this,” I said.
Bruce shrugged. “Must be smart shoppers.”
He sat down and gave me a set of almost-apologetic looks as I configured the glucose monitor, tested his sugar, and started measuring out pills. I ignored his droopy gazes, and asked him about the medication. He had it all memorized. I ground up his pills without saying anything to him. He could tell I was angry but wasn’t sure how to respond.
I hated grinding up pills. I hated feeding him. I’d done it for months now, ever since his arms became too shaky to hold the syringe in place, but I still hated how long the entire process took and how many times a day I had to do it. At home I usually watched TV while feeding him. It took about half an hour each time, four times a day, more if his current medication list was complicated.
I sighed and set up his feeding. The formula had to drain down the syringe, down the tube, and into his stomach.
“How long do you think we’ll be in here?” he asked me. He was tired of the silence, I supposed.
“You know just as well as I do, Dad. They haven’t told us.”
His head jerked in tremors as he struggled to find more conversation for us. He came up empty-handed.
“I told Naomi about how Mom carried around that sponge after the Northridge quake,” I told him, realizing that if I didn’t think of something to talk about, I risked falling asleep standing. “Naomi ended up carrying a garden trowel here in the same fashion.”
A weak smile appeared on his pale, dry features. His dentures hadn’t been in when we were captured, and his smile showed some of his gums. “I remember that,” he said. “We told that story for years.”
“It’s a good one.”
Bruce suddenly pointed to a small stack of books on the bench. I pawed through them with my free hand, giving him a confused look.
He cleared his throat. “I uh, knew you’d want something to do around here,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t sure about titles, and you were sleeping, so I told David to suggest a few.”
I smiled at Bruce as I reviewed the books. Yeah, sci-fi would do. I’d read two of them before, but they were worth rereading. Three of them were new to me. “Thanks, Dad, these will do just fine.”
“I asked for some myself. Figured I may as well try and read again, if my eyes can handle it.” He pointed to a small stack of non-fiction books near his blanket. He refused to read fiction. Before he became sick, he loved to read, but the sicker he got, the harder it was for his eyes and brain to focus on the pages. Eventually, he gave up reading. I was glad he had decided to try it again. Not that he had a choice here, without a TV.
“Nice. What did you get, Spanish?” He had tried for years to teach himself how to speak and write Spanish after the divorce. He got about halfway through, and then gave up. I used to tease him about finding a cute senorita to woo in her own language.
After Spanish, he tried philosophy and psychology. He had liked to take my old college textbooks. Too cheap to buy his own books, really. But I was always happy to fuel any type of reading adventure. In those days, he and I were always in bookstores. He’d always been cheap with his money, and spent a ridiculous amount on his booze collection, but somehow every time we entered a bookstore, he’d buy us each a book.
“One. And two psychology books.”
“Sounds good. I’ll have to borrow those if I run out.”
He hadn’t apologized exactly, but sometimes gestures like this were better than apologies.
“I’m sorry for being angry,” I told him.
He shrugged. “Tensions are high. It’s understandable. I’m sorry too, Sam. I wasn’t feeling good.” He gazed up at me, searching my face for a sign of forgiveness.
I gave him a tight-lipped smile in return, hoping that would satisfy him. It wasn’t easy to forgive him. He may not have meant for his words to come out as harshly as they had, but that didn’t change the way he felt.
Chapter 7
“I can’t believe they’re not allowing us the use of electricity,” David grumbled, shoving his coffee cup and science fiction novel away from him as he stretched out beneath our latest hideout. It wasn’t a hideout at all really, just a section of dust-free floor in front of the double doors. David and I had realized that it was the one place no one else would occupy in fear of the aliens’ return. We met there every day and talked about what books we were reading and his latest theories about what would be our eventual future.
“It doesn’t make sense,” I agreed. “The ventilation system still works, and we have these overhead lights. What gives?”
“They’ve got something planned,” he mused. “Maybe they’re storing energy to bring back to their home planet.”
I shrugged. “Possibly. I’m just glad it has been relatively quiet. Besides, of course, your recent outburst to them about electricity.” I tossed him a glare.
“Hey, if they give us back our cell phones, electricity, and running water, I’ll stop bitching. Bathing in a lukewarm tub isn’t my idea of a hot shower.”
He had a point. We had to ask for a metal tub to bathe in, along with an ice chest for cold food and some changes of clothes. The aliens didn’t have much of a fashion sense, and we received a pile of green and magenta sweats, jeans in various sizes, and football T-shirts. We made do. We still weren’t sure where they got everything. I think we all assumed they were just stealing shit from the grocery stores that had been abandoned.
I raised an eyebrow at David. “I heard you asking for firearms.”
He smiled. “I thought it was worth a shot. I tried all sorts of bladed weaponry too, and grenades. Nunchucks. The aliens know what all of it’s really used for.”
I laughed. “Too bad.”
It was hard to keep track of the time passing. It’d been at least two weeks now since our capture. We longed for fresh air. Naomi made a calendar out of cardboard and hung it on a wall, so we could mark the passing of the days. She had Julie and Han draw pictures on the appropriate square every night as our overheard lights were powered off. Yesterday, Julie drew a bright, shining sun, complete with a happy face and sunglasses.
“Think we’ll ever see that sun again?” David had asked.
Julie nodded fervently in response.
“All we can do is keep on hoping,” Naomi whispered.
We tried to keep the atmosphere positive, but it was difficult. So many of us were complete strangers to one another. Some people had begun to sleep in shifts to avoid others. Late at night, it really did look like we were camping out. Our little pup tents were spread as far apart as we could manage, each of them glowing with the dull shines from our lanterns.
“You and Bruce getting along better these days?” David asked.
I shook my head. “We avoid each other when we can get away with it. I hadn’t realized how dependent we’d become on the television and the walls of the house to separate us until we were stuck here.”
“I know what you mean,” he said, grimacing. “Julie and I are closer now than ever before. I don’t know how I managed to ignore her. It makes me feel like a terrible parent.”
“Nah. Nothing comes easily. Main thing is you’ve got it figured out now.” I touched his shoulder reassuringly.
In the distance, Marge started reading aloud to my father. “Bruce and Marge seem to be getting pretty chummy, though.” She was a sweet old lady, older than my dad, but in better health. She was a widow, didn’t have any children, and seemed as lonely as my father. It was a match made in heaven. Ironically, she was the same old lady my dad fell on the night we first arrived.
“Bet that makes you ha
ppy.”
“Oh, yeah. The only bad thing is that Marge and Naomi are on different time tables now.”
“Yeah. Naomi sleeps during the day now. What were they fighting about?”
I shook my head. “I don’t even know. Some stupid kitchen organization issue, I’m sure. You know old ladies and their kitchens. Not that Naomi’s old, of course.”
David grinned. “My grandma used to chase me out of hers with a wooden spatula. I was addicted to her chocolate chip cookies.”
“Oh man.” I sat up straight. “Freshly-baked cookies sound so good about now.”
“Don’t they?”
“I’m gonna have to see if we have any yucky, packaged cookies. I’ll be back.”
I wandered over to the food station. What started out as a single bench with a water jug had evolved into a pantry of sorts made out of cardboard boxes and two benches. Everything was neatly arranged, mostly thanks to Marge, who flittered around in her spare time, trying to clean whatever she could get her hands on. I puttered around in the food boxes and bags, unsatisfied. No cookies.
Giving up, I poured myself a bowl of cereal. As I set the box down, I accidentally bonked it, and it fell to the floor, spilling Froot Loops all over the place. I sighed. Maybe I could pretend like it was one of the young kids. I checked to make sure no one was watching, and then kicked the colorful rings under the bench, where they weren’t so easily noticeable. There. I stood back, satisfied with my work.
I’d just left the pantry and was munching on a few stray Froot Loops that had ended up on my magenta sweatshirt when the intercom clicked on. I blinked, confused. They generally talked to us in the morning or afternoon hours. Never after dark.
“We have an an-ounce-ment,” the intercom blared out. It was louder than usual, and Naomi and the others who had been sleeping stirred awake, shaking the walls of their tiny tents as they sat up. Simon popped out of my tent and ran to me, hiding behind my legs.
Captive by the Fog Page 6
