by John L. Monk
“I’m all out of twisty connectors,” she said.
“What if we keep the wires connected all the time, then just hit that big red button in the back?”
She nodded. “I forgot about that. Next time.”
When they got to the Welcome Center, Pete acted like he hadn’t abandoned them out there with a possibly disabled vehicle and no easy way to return home. It drove home the realization they needed more drivers.
Jack went looking for Brad and found him sitting in the party room near the fire feeding his brother.
“Hey man,” the older boy said at his approach.
“Hey. I was just wondering: have you ever driven before?”
“Nope. Why?”
“Because we need more people than Greg and Pete who know how.” He smiled to put him at ease. “If I can drive a bus, you can drive a car. In fact, going forward, we need backups for everything we learn.”
Brad nodded. “Makes sense. I can show Tony how to use that gun of his without shooting himself.”
Jack shook his head. “Leave that to me. I’ll set up a class like the one I took with my parents. Speaking of guns: you ever do any hunting?”
“Once, with my dad and one of his friends. We didn’t shoot anything, though. Tell you the truth, I was pretty happy about that. I hate killing anything. Even spiders.”
Jack smiled. “Yeah, me too. But we’re going to have to hunt. You’re big and strong, and you’re at least safety conscious. If I show you how to field dress a deer, you think you can handle it? It’s pretty gross.”
Brad looked down at Tyler and nodded. “There’s nothing I won’t do for my little brother.”
13
The morning of the big move, Greg, who was on watch, woke Jack an hour before dawn.
“Is it time already?” Jack said. “Why’s it so dark still?”
“Sorry, man,” he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. “It’s the chick with the green hair you told me about. She’s here. Man, she’s skinny … Cool hair, though. I brought her inside. She wants to talk to you.”
Jack blinked in the faint light offered by the candle over the fireplace. “Really? That’s great.”
She was standing in the office just off the entrance. Greg asked if she wanted to sit on one of the plush office chairs. She shook her head.
Jack clicked his LED flashlight and set it down facing one of the walls so as not to blind her. The twins had gathered a box of candles, but they needed more. Lanterns, too, like a hundred years ago. Flashlights made more sense for emergencies and should be spared.
“Hi there,” he said, wincing at how loud his voice sounded after the quiet of the party room. He held his hand out for her to shake, then lowered it when all she did was stare at him. “You wanted to talk to me?”
“They’re dead,” she said in a flat, expressionless voice. For so slender a girl, her voice was deep and resonant. “I got sick like them, then got better. But they didn’t.”
He looked closely at her and noted she seemed somehow more emaciated than last time. Or maybe his mind hadn’t been able to accept it then, just as it balked now.
“Greg, can you bring some of those crackers—the ones with the salt? And some water?”
“Yeah, sure. Gimme a minute.”
“What’s your name?” Jack said after he’d left.
She stared at him curiously, as if slowly processing the request. “Olivia.”
“I’m Jack.”
“You said that when you came to my apartment. That’s how I knew to ask for you.”
He smiled in embarrassment and revised his first impression of her. She may have been troubled, but she wasn’t completely gone, or dumb.
“Sorry about your parents,” he said.
“And I’m sorry about yours.”
He didn’t know what to say to that, and felt a wave of relief when Greg finally returned with the crackers and water.
Olivia stared at the meager plate and said, “You and that girl had guns at my apartment. Can I have one?”
He stared at her a moment, his gaze lingering on the hollowness of her cheeks. “Maybe eat some crackers. Then we’ll talk about guns. Okay?”
Mechanically, she reached out, took a cracker, and put it in her mouth. When she started to cough, Greg gave her some water, which she gulped down.
“Not too much,” Greg said, taking it from her. “You look like you haven’t, uh, had anything for a while. They say it’s bad if you eat and drink too much after so long.”
Olivia wiped her mouth free of crumbs and water and said, “Now can I have a gun?”
“Why do you want one?” Jack said, dreading the answer.
“You know why. Please?”
He watched her quietly in the dim electric light, then sighed. “Greg?”
“Yeah?”
“Give us a moment.”
“You got it,” he said, sounding relieved, then left and shut the door behind him.
Jack reached out tentatively, took the girl’s hand—frail to the point of skeletal—and guided her into a chair.
“We all lost parents,” he said lamely.
“Yeah, but I actually loved mine.”
Jack stiffened in sudden anger. Sure, he wasn’t comatose with grief, but he still loved his parents. With great effort, he forced himself to calm. The girl was suffering and lashing out. He had to remember that.
“How old are you, twelve?” he said.
She shook her head. “Thirteen. Almost fourteen. And this is what I want. Why can’t you just give me one?”
“I saw you praying. What would your parents say if they knew their daughter was going around asking people for guns?”
For the first time, her expression broke into something beyond apathetic—she squeezed her eyes shut as her face tightened, and a single sob escaped. Jack’s earlier anger evaporated, replaced by a kindred sorrow.
“Why did it happen?” she whispered. “The Sickness?”
“Nobody knows. Some kind of weapon, maybe.” He shrugged. “I even heard it was aliens. The news had all kinds of crazy theories before everything went dark.”
“Why did I live?”
“I don’t know that either,” he said. “I do know you could have killed yourself a bunch of different ways, but you came here instead. Do you think maybe you’re looking for a reason to keep living, and not for a gun?”
She didn’t reply. She didn’t let go of his hand, either.
“Olivia,” he said, “there’s nobody in the world to stop you from doing it, if that’s what you want. There’s so much death outside these doors I can’t even get my head around it. If I tried, I might want to shoot myself, too. Instead of that, I keep busy. That’s the trick.”
“Busy doing what?” she said, wiping her eyes.
“Living, planning, helping friends. We’re leaving in the morning for a place I know about. When we get there, we’ll try to make it through the winter and see what happens after that. You’re just in time. We could use the help.”
“Leaving here?” she said. “For where, exactly?”
Jack knew the girl wasn’t a spy for a food gang, unless she was also one of the greatest actresses who’d ever lived. But if she stayed, he couldn’t know if she’d get picked up by one of the bigger gangs. He wanted to keep their destination secret until they were strong enough to protect themselves.
“It’s hard to explain,” he said and hoped she wouldn’t press him. “But it’s definitely better than here. So what do you say: you with us?”
Olivia stared out at nothing, not saying yes and not saying no. He was content to let her think about it, the same way his parents always waited for him to answer one of their strange and difficult questions.
After sitting in silence for a good two minutes, she grabbed another cracker and put it in her mouth. Then she nodded.
Those early-morning November days were particularly chilly, warming up around noon almost to where you could say it was merely cold.
>
With the wheelbarrow full of dumbbells cold for several hours now, none of the children wanted to get up. Jack recruited Greg and Tony to prod them into action, forcing them to take what meager possessions they had—a doll, a picture, a piece of jewelry—and file onto the bus.
While that was going on, he plied Olivia with a small amount of protein-rich food and some water. He then quietly passed word to the others to keep an eye on her, with special instructions to everyone to keep her away from guns. If she wanted to hold one, they were to tell her no and then inform him.
While the bus was warming up, they packed the food from the safe in the car with Greg. They put the blankets and pillows, the big pot, and their supply of candles, tools, and dishes in Pete’s car. Lisa got on the bus with Jack to keep the little ones in line, and Brad and his baby brother rode with Pete—to keep him in line.
Olivia’s ride was a harder choice. Jack didn’t necessarily think of himself as a matchmaker, but his oldest friend had mentioned her green hair twice since she’d arrived. If Greg had a crush, he’d do a good job keeping an eye on her, so she went with him, along with Tony.
“Everyone’s settled,” Lisa said after buckling in each child.
“Great. Now we try to live through the day with me at the wheel.”
The fastest way to the interstate was by way of 50 to 28, but that was pre-Sickness. Right now, he didn’t know if the route was free of roadblocks. Rather than risk the unknown, he backtracked to where they’d found the bus, then took 28 back in the direction of his old home and what he now thought of as Blaze’s territory.
For all his worry, they didn’t see anyone. Jack snorted. If he were a homicidal gang leader, he would have posted sentries.
When they got on 66, he blinked in surprise at how open and traffic-free it was. They saw the odd car—stalled or abandoned—but otherwise the way was clear. Which, considering the nature of the catastrophe, made sense. Nobody sick had the energy to leave, and the few that were still healthy had gotten out, for all the good it did them.
Jack hoped the roadblocks were limited to the neighborhoods and side streets. But if they did find one out here, big as the bus was and with his friends helping, he figured they could push through if needed.
“Why are you slowing?” Lisa said about ten minutes past the Gainesville exit.
“Look at that,” was all he said, pointing at a hillside pasture.
“Oh, wow! Cows!”
The children in the bus pressed against the glass to see.
Squinting, Jack said, “Something’s not right.”
One of the children confirmed the observation by screaming. Then, because they were little, all of them started screaming, even if they didn’t know why.
Jack stopped the bus, stood up, and shouted, “Knock it off!”
As one, the children quieted and stared at him.
“Sit down, face forward, and stay quiet on the bus,” he said. “That’s an order. Anyone who doesn’t gets left behind. Got it?”
Their collective gasps made him feel guilty, but only a little. This way it’d be easier if he had to issue any new orders. He’d be the mean one, the ultimate big kid, and dangerous in his way. He could never be their friend, never smile with them or laugh, or it’d undermine his authority.
“Come on, Lisa,” he said, and stepped off the bus.
“Laying it on a bit heavy, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “So, what do you think?”
They surveyed the hillside, dotted with about fifty black cows. All were in various stages of decomposition. The smell was awful. The view, ghastly.
“Who would do that?” she said quietly. “Looks like they were … like someone came through and killed them over the course of … I dunno. Weeks, I guess. Look at that one.” She pointed way off to the side at a wreck of sunken skin.
“Wasteful,” Jack said. “They didn’t butcher them properly—just took the legs. It’s like they got hungry, came here, shot something, cut its legs off, and then left. Part of the reason I brought us out this way was to … ” He shook his head. “I thought maybe we could bag a cow or two. Maybe a sheep or something. You know, for the winter.”
“I’m sure there’s more,” she said. “It’s a big country.”
Jack stared at the mess on the hillside another minute, not saying anything. Then he sighed. “Let’s get out of here.”
As they continued down 66, it became obvious the interstate was wide open except for the exits, which were mostly blocked off. That was fine. The place they were going didn’t have any nearby neighborhoods to worry about, and when they got to the exit—just short of Front Royal—they passed through without a problem.
Jack couldn’t stop smiling as they snaked through trees and hills deeper into the Virginia countryside, far away from dead adults and lunatics with guns and swords. Eventually, they pulled off the county road onto a wide gravel lane that led to a gate. Beside it was a sign reading, “Big Timber Model Homes: Join The Log Home Revolution!”
The children’s voices rose in excitement as they pulled into a wide, grassy clearing with a large creek-fed pond in the distance. Situated around it were a number of beautiful log homes, all of them brand new.
Jack stopped the bus and gazed intently at the scene before him. No cars or trucks. Best of all, no smoke from the four chimneys. Not necessarily proof the place was deserted, but he’d definitely take it.
“Jeez, Jack,” Lisa said from the seat behind him. “Where did you learn about this place?”
“Last year, with my parents,” he said. “They were in the market for a log home they could build themselves, up in West Virginia. We sat in a class in that big one over there.” He pointed to the largest of the cabins, with a soaring roof and a wraparound deck. “The brochure showed a retired couple putting one together all by themselves. Said it could be done for something like thirty thousand dollars. My parents looked into it. Way too much work, and only cost that much if you found all the materials yourself.” He smiled. “Or they could buy one of these lovely model homes, which the company would build for us starting at two hundred thousand. Dad said it was a total bait and switch. They could have bought one, but they wanted me to have the money after they …” He shook his head. “You know how they were.”
Lisa cursed under her breath. “Your parents, I swear. Laying all that on you. It wasn’t fair.”
He laughed drily. “But they were right. Who knows, maybe it’ll pay off.”
After they parked, the children practically boiled out of the bus, running between the different model homes or out into the huge field of tall grass. Jack saw a herd of deer in the distance flee from the commotion and wished he’d thought to bring his rifle down with him.
Then, looking at the quiet cabins, he climbed back up and got it for a different reason.
“Expecting trouble?” Lisa said.
“Yep.” He grinned. “Mostly as a policy. Let’s grab the others.”
They met between the vehicles with Greg, Brad, Tony, Pete, and Olivia.
“I’m pretty sure we’re the only ones here,” Jack said, “but we need to know. So, groups of two. Don’t bust into anything. This is our new home and we should treat it that way.”
It turned out all the cabins were locked up tight, as was the trailer, and no one was inside when they looked through the windows.
Greg said, “I bet the keys are sitting in there somewhere. We won’t be living in the trailer, right? Doesn’t have a chimney.”
Jack conceded the point. “Pete, where’s that crowbar you had?”
“In the car,” he said, not moving.
“I’ll get it,” Brad said and stood in front of the smaller boy. “Keys.”
Pete handed them over with a sullen expression. Minutes later, Brad had the door open with minimal effort. When they went in, they found an office with a number of desks laden with computer monitors, brochures, and office clutter.
Sure enough, hanging on the wall as if waiti
ng for them were keys numbered one through four.
14
The four model homes each had different names, chosen by the company to match their sizes or other appeal.
The Paul Bunyan model was the smallest. It had a large bedroom, a loft, and a single fireplace with a stove you could cook on.
The next biggest was the Abe Lincoln. It was like the Paul Bunyan, but wider, and had two bedrooms on the main floor.
Still bigger was The Skyline. Longer in shape, this one had two fireplaces—a stove-free unit in the living room wall, the other in the fancy dining room at the far end. The stove in the dining room had a cook top. The kitchen was in the middle, and like the other two cabins, basically useless without electricity. The Skyline had five bedrooms—two small ones on the first floor, three upstairs, and three bathrooms. Without plumbing, also useless.
The biggest cabin by far was The Saskatchewan. With six bedrooms, it was built up and out, and very much around. It had an enormous great room with a nice fireplace, as well as one with a cooking surface set between dining room and kitchen, just like in the Skyline. Everything about the cabin looked super expensive, from the bearskin rugs to the multiple flat screen televisions and exercise room. It also had a kitchen that was bigger than the main floor of Jack’s old house. There were huge windows that couldn’t open, a soaring ceiling, and a spiral staircase that looked carved by hand.
When Jack had come here with his parents, he’d loved the Saskatchewan the most because of how big it was. Standing there now with Greg and Lisa, he gazed upward and said, “That’s a lot of air to keep heated.”
“Well, we got all that wood outside,” Greg said, a note of longing in his voice.
It was true. Each cabin came with a decorative diagonal sweep of stacked wood just beside the front door.
“That won’t last but a week or two,” Jack said. “Which brings me to my first concern: sleeping arrangements.”
“I want my own cabin,” Greg said, grinning at the space around him. “This one will do.”
