“Did you leave me any hot water?”
“Yes I did,” Robyn said. “I took a submarine shower like always, just like you said we should do.”
“Just checking.”
She came over to him, bent down and kissed him on his cheek. “Good night, Sergeant Major,” she said, and launched herself easily into her bunk. He turned out the light over the dinette, dimming the interior of the camper significantly. He pulled the blankets up to her chin, and said goodnight then went to the rear of the camper and repeated what she had done. Drawing a privacy curtain, he stripped, and took a short ‘submarine’ shower himself, (turning the water on just long enough to get wet, then turning it off, soaping up and washing, then turning the water on again to rinse.) It conserved a shitload of water. He did that, shaved and brushed his teeth. By the time he was done, he was bone tired. Drying off, he got into a pair of long johns and made sure the camper’s propane heater was working properly. It was bound to get even colder overnight, and he didn’t want anything to freeze up.
When he went to his berth he saw the uncleaned M16 laying there. “Shit!” he whispered. He’d forgotten about that. He pulled out the rifle cleaning kit and broke down the rifle to clean it. He was slipping. Only fired one round, but he needed to make sure the weapon was clean before he went to bed. As he busied himself with that mindless chore, his mind was running over the last year. The one thing that kept coming back to him was the whole island thing. There seemed to be a recurring theme to it, but he never believed in coincidence. He’d been a cop and soldier far too long. There had to be something to it. And why did he bring up his brother’s conversation from last year? He still didn’t know how one man could make a difference. Change the world.
Save it.
Just the mere thought that he, an almost fifty year old broke-dicked cop and soldier, was going to save the world. Him, the Messiah? Now there was a joke that was almost insane. He had his hands full enough just trying to keep Robyn and himself alive through another winter. He most definitely did not need the weight of the world on his shoulders. He reassembled the M16 and put it up beside the M4 carbine and the grease gun. He looked at that old relic from a different era. He’d have to get Robyn out to shoot that. She’d have a blast. He turned out his light and crawled into bed, pulling the covers up snugly. The wind was picking up and he was thankful for the heater. He slipped quickly into a deep, dreamless sleep.
As usual, Robyn was awake before Tim, and he heard her puttering around in the galley as he stirred from his sleep. He dragged himself out of bed and made his way out to greet the day. Tim was still not, and would probably never be, a ‘morning person,’ but Robyn was up and full of life, cheery as could be.
“Good morning, Sergeant Major!” she said brightly as Tim stepped out from the privacy curtain.
“It’s morning alright,” he grunted. Seeing she was already making the pot of coffee, he went to the dinette and sat down. Although he wasn’t a morning person, he did really miss reading the newspaper with his morning coffee, especially the crossword puzzle. Maybe they could take a trip into town and see if there were any puzzle books at the local book store.
“Coffee is almost ready,” Robyn said. She was still dressed in his t-shirt, but had brushed out her hair and tied it back into a ponytail.
“Good. I need some,” he grumbled.
“That’s what I love about you, Tim, your cheery disposition in the morning!”
He had to laugh; a thirteen year old with the ability to understand the nuances of sarcasm, and the ability to wield it. She was turning into a carbon copy of him, and he didn’t know whether to be proud or frightened. He sat and watched her silently as she measured out the correct spoons of sugar and canned milk for his coffee, and poured a black coffee for herself. She brought them both over to the table, setting his down in front of him.
“Thank you,” he said, taking a sip of the hot beverage.
She took a sip of hers, and looked behind her at the calendar. He sat up a little when he saw a dark cloud sweep over her face. In a tiny voice, almost too low to hear, she said, “It’s been a year.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s been a whole year since everyone died.”
“Yeah, I know. I noticed yesterday but didn’t want to say anything to upset you.”
“I’m not upset, just sad.”
“We both lost people we cared a lot about, honey. But the main thing is we’re still alive, and they would want us to keep on surviving.”
“I know. It’s just sad, so many people gone.”
They sat for a while, drinking their coffee quietly, and Tim peered out the slats of the blinds to see about six inches of fresh snow on the ground. It had stopped sometime overnight. He turned back to Robyn and when he was facing her again she asked, “Do you think that’s what happened to the dinosaurs?”
“I don’t know. I know that the scientists weren’t completely sure about it. Some thought it was a comet or meteorite.”
“Do you think we’re going to be extinct?”
“Well, I hope not. You and I are still alive and kicking, and I’m going to do my best to make sure you and I don’t go extinct.”
“Good! So no one really knows what happened to the dinosaurs?”
“Not a hundred percent. I do know there’s a thin layer of soil called the ‘K-T’ Boundary that spans the entire globe. I’m not sure of the exact age, but it was a long time ago. Above it there are no dinosaur fossils at all, like they all dropped at once.”
“Like last year…”
“Yeah, but look at it this way. Sharks have been around for millions of years. They were around in the time of dinosaurs, and they’re still around today. And several years ago, fishermen caught a coelacanth, a fish thought to have been extinct for millions of years.”
“So I shouldn’t worry?”
“No, you shouldn’t. My final word on worrying: can you do anything about it?”
“No,” she replied.
“Then don’t worry about it.”
Robyn giggled and finished her coffee. “Do you want another cup, Sergeant Major?”
“Yes, please,” he said, handing over his cup. “And just say ‘Sar’ Major’. You’ll sound like a real soldier then.”
“Okay, Sar’ Major!”
As he watched her make their second cups of coffee, one thought did cross his mind that he thought he should just keep to himself. Tim knew that over ninety percent of all species that had ever lived on the planet were now extinct. Was Man’s reign on Earth really over? He hoped not. He let that thought slip as Robyn came back with two fresh steaming mugs and sat down.
“Tell me about the Army,” she said.
“Not much to tell you. It’s a good life, but hard too. Can be really dangerous and you’re away from home a lot.”
“Have you been in a war?”
“Yeah, honey, a few of them. But I really don’t like talking about it.”
“Have you been many places?”
“That’s one of the really great things about being in the Army. You get to travel a lot. I’ve been to a lot of places,” he said, reaching up to the bookshelf, and retrieving the world atlas. He began to show her all the places he’d been, all the countries in Central America, the places in Europe and the Middle East. He told her he’d even been all the way down to Australia, two times.
“Wow! This is the farthest I’ve ever been out of the holler! Do you think I’ll ever get to see some of those places?”
“Well, maybe someday. We’re kind of stuck here on this continent unless we meet up with someone who knows how to sail.”
“Yeah, you said that before,” she said with a frown.
“Tell you what,” he said, changing the subject. “After we finish our coffee, let’s get dressed and head into town.”
“Anything special we’re looking for?”
“Yes,” he said, and told her about his idea of putting on a big spread for Thanksgiving. Sh
e was all for it, and they quickly finished the coffee. Tim gave her some privacy to get dressed, and got dressed himself. He went outside into the crisp, morning air and walked to the truck to start it. It hitched a few times before turning over, and he thought he’d better start it daily now, just to keep the battery charged up. Last winter he’d used it almost daily, so he’d never had to worry about it, but here it sat for days at a time without moving. Going back inside the trailer, he left the truck to idle and warm up. He retrieved the M4 carbine and a few magazines that he put in the pockets of his Gortex ACU jacket. They piled into the cab of the truck, Tim tossed the M4 onto the dashboard, and they headed out. The going was fine, with the truck’s front axle locked into four wheel drive, and they made good time in spite of the snow.
As they made their way off Rt. 20 and onto Rt. 460, Tim stopped suddenly on the crest of the bridge that crossed over Interstate 77. Tim got out and walked through the snow to the railing of the bridge, and looked down on the interstate highway. There, he could plainly see two sets of fresh tire tracks in the snow in the southbound lanes. Whoever it was, they had continued south, deciding to pass Princeton on their journey. When he climbed back into the truck, Robyn asked what had happened, and he told her of the tire tracks. An excited but worried look crossed her face, and he explained it looked like they hadn’t stopped.
“Are we ever going to try to find more people?”
“Yeah, I think we should. But we’ve got to be really careful.”
“I know. Bad people are out there.”
“I think they’ll never go away,” he said. He put the truck back into gear and continued on. They pulled into the lot of the local Food Lion grocery store, and Tim looked around. No tire tracks here. They got out, and quickly entered the darkened store. This one had been gone through before, and not just by them; it looked like other people had been through too. The shelves were practically empty. They went up and down the aisles, getting the things they thought they’d need: canned cranberries, candied yams, some stuffing mix that looked as though it hadn’t been gnawed through, and one single Betty Crocker pre-made pie shell. It was probably stale, but you couldn’t have a Thanksgiving spread without pumpkin pie! He got that, and found several cans of pumpkin pie filling. When they were done, Tim asked Robyn, “Anything else you think we might need? This may be the last chance to get into town this winter.”
“Maybe some Coke, if there’s any left.”
“Let’s go look,” he said, and turned the shopping cart around to look for it. There were still several cases left, so they took a few, and Tim thought he should get some more beer, and they went to that aisle. It was a refrigerated aisle close to the meat department. It had been over a year, but the lingering smell of rot permeated this section of the store. All the good beer was gone. The only thing left was a few cases of Pabst Blue Ribbon.
“I guess the Sar’ Major will have to get by with PBR,” he said, grabbing the last two cases.
They headed outside, loaded up their goodies, and made their way back to the camper. When they arrived, they quickly unloaded their stuff and stored it away. Then Tim had another thought.
“Robyn?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you be okay here by yourself for a bit? I just want to make a quick run back into Athens for something I forgot.”
“Yeah, I guess…” she said worriedly.
“I’ll only be about a half hour, I promise.”
She ran up to him and hugged him tight. “You just hurry home, okay?”
He nodded and smiled at her, turned and got back in the truck. As he pulled away, he looked in the rearview mirror to see her still standing there, watching him leave, and his heart dropped. It wasn’t the first time he’d left her to her own devices. She had also at times gone off by herself into the woods, but this made him a tiny bit nervous. He shook the thought off as he pulled back out onto Rt.20, heading back south the few miles to Athens. There, he pulled up to an old True Value hardware store. He had been here on several occasions, but never for this reason. The door of the store, had already been broken open by him several months ago, but he still took a pair of bolt cutters that he kept behind the seat. He walked in, and straight to the back of the store, where there was a place that they had sold guns too, just like a hundred years ago. There was a glass counter with a long rack behind it. Several rifles and shotguns were in it, with a long steel cable through the trigger guards, and padlocked at the end. Using the bolt cutters, he quickly dispensed of the heavy Yale padlock, and pulled the cable out. He walked down the line of firearms and found what he was looking for, a Remington 12 Gauge shotgun with a 28” barrel. Can’t hunt turkey without a shotgun. He pulled it down, also grabbing a few boxes of 3” magnum shells for it. Something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. He walked to the end, and what he saw he didn’t believe. He hadn’t seen one of these in years, a World War II M1 carbine paratrooper model, the kind with the side folding metal stock. He pulled it down, and for laughs looked at the price tag. $1,500! He remembered when you could get a decent M1 carbine for a hundred bucks! He put that down next to the shotgun. Robyn was ready to graduate to something a little bigger than the .22, and this fit the bill nicely. Weighing only five pounds, the little .30 caliber cartridge it fired had a lot more power than a .22, but had almost no recoil. He scrounged around and found four fifteen-round magazines for it, as well as several boxes of ammo. He took all this back out to his truck, wrapping the carbine, magazines and ammo, in a wool Army blanket. He hid it behind the seat of the truck, placing the bolt cutters on top. He put the shotgun on the front seat, along with the boxes of shells, and lit a cigarette.
Down the street, he saw the old Rexall drug store sign. He’d been through this one too, getting all the pharmaceuticals he thought they’d need, but he did remember they had all kinds of stationery and the like also.
Walking down the block a short way, he entered the drug store, quickly finding what he was after. A few rolls of Christmas wrapping paper and bows and a roll of scotch tape. He strolled back to the truck with his take, and placed that behind the seat also, then quickly headed home. When he pulled up to the camper Robyn came out to meet him.
“What did you get?” she asked.
He held up the shotgun. “Can’t shoot a turkey for Thanksgiving without a shotgun!”
They walked back into the camper, and Robyn presented a tuna sandwich on the bread he’d finally figured out how to bake. He took the offered plate, setting the shotgun against the wall next to the door, and then sat down at the dinette.
“Kill Flipper, did we?”
“Huh?”
“It’s a joke. You had to have been there,” he said, and began to devour the food.
“Want a beer?”
“Not right now, maybe a Coke?”
“Can I have a beer?”
“You don’t give up, do you?”
She just smiled and handed him a can of Coke from the fridge. Sitting down opposite of him, she said, “I mixed up the tuna, mayo and relish while you were gone. I already had a sandwich. There’s plenty more if you want some.”
“No, this is fine right now, honey.”
“So why didn’t you want me to come with you back into town?” she asked with a sideways glance of suspicion.
“There was no reason at all, really. Just remembered about the shotgun and thought I’d just run back and get it.”
This kid was intuitive as hell. It was hard getting anything past her, and now the hard part, hiding the carbine from her until Christmas.
“Why are you smiling?”
“No reason.”
“I bet,” she said, and kicked him under the table.
“Ow! That hurt!”
“Teach you to hide things from me!”
“I’m not!”
“Sure you aren’t!” and she stuck out her tongue.
“Okay, I admit it! I had a hot date with a hair stylist!”
“Speaking
of hair, you’re getting shaggy again. Want me to cut it for you today?”
“Yeah, might as well. It might be a long time before we can do much of anything outside again.”
“Okay. Finish your sandwich and I’ll get the clippers.”
His hair was easy to cut. Although he still had a full head of hair, the military style was easy, so easy in fact, he could do it himself. But it was nice to have Robyn do it for him. He finished his lunch and headed outside where she had already set up a folding chair for him to sit on and had a towel to drape over his shoulders. Right before she clicked on the clippers, he noticed the generator was running a little ragged, and said something about it.
“Yeah, it was running like that last night when I went out to shut it down, and I forgot to tell you.”
“It’s probably stale gas.”
“What’s stale gas?” she asked, and began to shear off Tim’s salt and pepper locks.
“Gasoline has a finite shelf-life, and it gets stale, turns to turpentine really, and it’s not much use after that.”
“So none of the gas is going to be any good?”
“Pretty much. In a few more years, it’ll be good for cleaning paintbrushes and starting fires, but won’t be worth a shit in engines.”
“So what are we going to do?”
“We’ll use diesel fuel. It’ll last for a long, long time. Might gel up some in the winter, but it’ll be good for years. We’ll just have to find a bigger diesel generator is all.”
“So it’ll be okay?”
“Yeah, we’ll be fine. There’s plenty of propane and diesel around. We’ll get by.”
“You had me worried there for a minute,” she said with relief. She shut the clippers off and removed the towel with a flourish. Tim stood and ran his hand over the close-cropped stubble. “Nice! It’s another perfect job, Vince!”
One Man's Island Page 17
