After the End Trilogy Box Set

by Mark Gillespie

  “Are you alright?” Eda said.

  Frankie Boy twitched underneath her.

  It was a while before he could answer. The man kept coughing for another couple of seconds. Eventually he held a hand out, registering to her that he was going to make it. He straightened back up, wobbling on rubbery legs.

  “I’m old,” he said. “That’s everything that’s wrong with me.”

  “What’s your name?” Eda asked.

  “Talbot Goldman,” he said, wiping the spit off his mouth. “And if you’re a loyal American citizen then you’re alright with me young lady. I’m sorry about scaring you and all. Just so you know, I was shooting to miss back there. I wasn’t actually trying to kill ya.”

  “I figured that,” Eda said.

  “Now let me tell you something,” he said, “You’re in grave danger. Just being here puts you in grave danger.”

  “Why?” Eda said.

  “This city has eyes,” Goldman said, lowering his voice. “Eyes that don’t like the sight of Americans you know what I mean? You thought it was empty around ol’ Beantown right? That was your first mistake and that’s how you didn’t hear me sneaking up on you when you were sitting half-asleep on that bench back there.”

  Eda looked at the rifle in Goldman’s hands and shuddered. There was also a small handgun strapped into a black holster on his weapons belt, as well as a bone-handled dagger tucked into in a chunky hilt. A bald eagle logo was stamped onto the belt buckle, the same one that appeared on Goldman’s uniform.

  America the Brave.

  Goldman noticed her checking out his arsenal of weapons.

  “It’s not even the tip of the iceberg,” he said. “I’ve got a small armory back at my base I’ll have you know. Guns, grenades, knives – you name it. I’ve got just about everything back there except a tank of my own. Never managed to find me one of those mothers, not one that still worked anyway.”

  “That’s a lot of weapons,” Eda said.

  “Well yeah,” Goldman said. “How else are we going to win this war? This isn’t chess we’re playing, you understand?”

  Eda tilted her head.

  “Win the war?”

  “Yeah?”

  “War?” Eda said, emphasizing the word with a verbal punch. “What war are you talking about exactly?”

  Goldman laughed.

  “Go downtown and take a good look around,” he said. “Look at what happened to the once great city of Boston. That wasn’t just a big fart that knocked down all those buildings you know.”

  “I know all about the End War,” Eda said. “Who doesn’t for God’s sake? But it’s over, it’s been over for years.”

  The old man cackled. It triggered Frankie Boy who lunged forward. Fortunately Eda still had her hands wrapped around the dog and she held him back despite the growing numbness in her limbs.

  “You better keep a hold of that dog,” Goldman said, his rifle coming up again. “I’m starting to get nervous again and no one likes a shaky trigger finger.”

  Eda stroked the back of Frankie’s head. His body trembled, accompanying the growl.

  “Stay,” she whispered into his ear. “It’s okay.”

  She looked at Goldman.

  “Please stop pointing that thing at us,” she said. “Nothing’s going to happen. I’ve got him.”

  Goldman’s jaw was fidgety. Slowly he lowered the rifle again, sighing as his arms were relieved of the weight.

  “I apologize for laughing like that,” he said, looking at Eda with a sincere expression. “I must appear quite strange to you, right? I think I’m out of practice when it comes to the whole socializing thing, you know what I mean? Been a long time since anyone new showed up in Boston. And when it comes to dogs, well as you can see I’m all out of practice.”

  Eda let slip a half-smile.

  “Can I ask you something?” she said.

  “Shoot.”

  “Why do you talk about the war as if it’s still going on?”

  “Because it is still going on,” Goldman said. “Don’t you doubt it for a second.”

  “Well I don’t see it,” Eda said, with a cool shrug of the shoulders. “Have you been out there lately? Outside of Boston I mean? There’s no war left, only a few survivors – men, women and children – doing their best to stay alive. The only war I’ve seen is the one between living and dying.”

  Goldman smiled, like a man with a secret to tell.

  “I’m not alone here,” he said. “There’s someone else in Boston. And I’m not talking about you or Frankie Boy.”

  “Who are you talking about then?” Eda said.

  “There’s one more soldier at loose.”

  “One more soldier?”

  Goldman’s eyes scanned the neighborhood, roaming outside the metal fence and taking it all in.

  “He ain’t one of ours,” he said, whispering. “He’s one of them…”

  Eda felt an icy jolt shoot up her spine. The old man’s mind was gone, trapped in the past. It was horrible to see. In Eda’s experience, the confrontation with madness was uglier than the one with death. Death couldn’t hurt you. It couldn’t hurt itself either. Those who were caught in the grip of madness however, were like animals suffering up close.

  “One of them?” she asked.

  Goldman tapped a finger off his skull. “Chink,” he said. “There’s still one chink running around here.”

  “Chink?”

  “A Chinaman for God’s sake!” Goldman roared. “You know? The slanty-eyed bastards who caused all this mess in the first place. I’m trying to tell you that there’s one of them running around loose in the city. One soldier left out of an army of millions.”

  Goldman’s eyes were bright and alert. He looked sane, at least on the outside. How long since the old soldier had tipped over the edge?

  “I haven’t seen him for a while though,” Goldman said, looking around once again to check the coast was clear. “It happens sometimes and I start to think that maybe the old son of a bitch is lying dead somewhere. Natural causes, illness – something horrible like that. But if he has checked out, I’ve got to see it. Jeez, I’ve got to see that body.”

  The soldier squeezed down on the rifle barrel and his pink, jagged knuckles turned white.

  “What if you don’t see it?” Eda asked.

  Goldman looked at her like she was crazy. Not for the first time either.

  “I have to,” he said. “He dies first, we win. God bless America and all those who perished inside her. But I gotta know for sure he’s checked out or I’m always going to be guessing and looking over my shoulder for the man sneaking up on me.”

  Eda sat in silence, not knowing what else to say to this strange, broken man. She didn’t feel like she was in any danger being close to him. Not anymore. The overwhelming emotion inside her was in fact one of great pity. She could only imagine what it must have been like for Goldman living like that for years, if not decades. Chasing his tail.

  “I’ve got one thing left to do,” Goldman said to Eda. “Just one. To make sure Mr. China dies before I do.”

  “Mr. China?”

  Goldman smiled. “I call him lots of things. That’s one of my nicer names. Seeing as how there’s a lady present and all…”

  “How long you been fighting him?” Eda asked.

  Goldman shrugged. “Who the hell knows?” he said. “Right? Time doesn’t stop just because the clocks aren’t working anymore.”

  He let out a loud sigh.

  “I was living right here in South Boston when the war broke out. Jeez Louise. This place was wall-to-wall Micks. Little Ireland, that’s what we called it. And there were a few Jews like me of course. This is still my home. I never left Boston during or after the war – I fought for her, spilled blood for her, like so many others. And then it was over. Everything I ever knew or loved was gone. A long time passed and the America I grew up in began to shrivel and shrink into something else. And then one day, he showed up. Mister go
ddamn China. I don’t know where he came from or what he was thinking about coming here. Probably came in from another state, trying to get back to the ocean. Trying to get to his boats, thinking they were still docked in the harbor. You can understand it I suppose.”

  Goldman covered his mouth with the back of his hand. It looked like he was about to cough again but he held off.

  “Tell me something,” Goldman said to Eda. “What the hell are you doing here? What are you really doing in Boston?”

  “Long story,” Eda said. “To cut it short, I came looking for someone.”

  Goldman shook his head. “Most Bostonians died at the start of the war. This place was a big chink target because of the harbor you understand? If anyone around here didn’t die in the war they took off inland as fast as their burning, bloody legs could take them. Boston has a permanent population of two souls now. Mr. China and me. You wasted your time coming here Eda. That person you want, they’re dead or gone. Long time.”

  “Wasted my time?” Eda said. “Oh really? You’re one to talk mister.”

  Goldman flattened a stray hair on his mustache. “Now what in the hell are you talking about?”

  Eda bit her lip. Goldman was a madman with a gun and she was about to lash out at him for telling the truth. She had wasted her time coming here. If she wanted someone to be angry at someone all she had to do was look in the mirror.

  “You think I’m a loon?” Goldman asked. “Oh I see now. You think I’m a senile old dipshit chasing chink ghosts around this city for funsies? Or wait a minute…maybe it’s worse than that. Maybe you think I’m a liar?”

  “I don’t think you’re a liar,” Eda said.

  Goldman came a little closer. Thank God, Frankie Body didn’t growl.

  “It’s not safe for you here,” Goldman said. “You’ve been lucky so far because I found you first. But if you keep walking around this city long enough without your wits you’ll get a bullet in your back courtesy of the Chinaman. That’s a fact young lady. That son of a bitch is still out there fighting for the motherland. He wants to kill Americans. It’s been a long time and his guns are hungry.”

  Goldman coughed and clamped a wrinkled hand over his mouth.

  Eda saw a dark red stain on the man’s hand as he lowered it to his side. Goldman noticed it a second later and he cursed quietly before pulling out a dirty-looking handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his hands clean with it.

  She almost said something but stopped herself. Best not to agitate him.

  “I think Frankie Boy’s settled down,” Eda said, patting the dog gently. “Okay if I let him go? You promise you won’t shoot him?”

  Goldman put the handkerchief back in his pocket.

  “I like dogs,” he said in a quiet voice.

  Eda nodded her thanks. Then slowly, she let go of Frankie’s thick coat, bracing herself in case he made a dash at Goldman. But the big German Shepherd stayed exactly where he was, sitting on the grass.

  Eda straightened up and felt a sudden stab of pain in her left side around the hip. Without thinking about it she pulled up her rain cloak, peeled back the sweater back and saw a large scrape running down her side. Probably from the fall.

  “Damn it,” she said. The aches and pains were piling up fast.

  “My god you’re skin and bones,” Goldman said, looking at her. He looked genuinely shocked.

  Eda quickly pulled her top down. “I’m fine,” she said in a flat voice. “Nothing that won’t right itself in time.”

  “Hell you’re not fine,” Goldman said. “You’re hungry, right?”

  She said nothing.

  “That’s what I thought,” Goldman said. “Listen. I got lots of food back at my place. Too much food for one old buzzard like me. I can’t just leave you out here alone like this, all skin and bones and soaking wet.”

  Eda held a hand out. “I’m fine. Just let us go and we’ll…”

  “Don’t be worrying now,” Goldman said, slinging the rifle over his shoulder. He began to walk towards the gate, keeping a wide berth between himself and Frankie Boy. A wise move.

  “I’m not a pervert or anything like that,” he said. “Even if I was I don’t have the energy for that kind of nonsense. Look here’s what we’ll do. You’ll come back to my place and get some food inside you. The dog, he can eat too. And after that? We gotta get you out of this city. It’s dangerous here.”

  “You said that already,” Eda said.

  “Well now I’m saying it again.”

  4

  After about an hour’s walk, Goldman brought his two companions to a small block of redbrick apartments located on a long, winding coastal road that stretched on forever like a giant asphalt snake. The apartment building was sandwiched neatly in between a public park, which looked more like a jungle now, and a stretch of golden sand beach.

  The sight of the ocean captivated Eda. She’d seen it before somewhere – maybe it was inside a dream but perhaps not. Vast swathes of creamy sand. A blanket of dark blue water with tall, frothy waves charging recklessly at the land. And the delicious sound of it. It evoked a sense of familiarity in Eda, pointing her thoughts towards a nameless city she’d spent time in as a youth. Was she thinking about home? After all, there had to be somewhere out there that she could rightfully think of in that sense.

  “What stretch of water is that?” Eda asked, turning to Goldman.

  The old man had set a surprisingly swift pace since leaving the park. He walked with his head held high, stiff-backed, and with the assuredness of someone who had undertaken this journey many times.

  “That’s the old harbor out there,” Goldman said. “You’ll find more than a few islands if you keep going that way – Thompson Island, Long Island, Spectacle Island, to name a few. Some of the others escape me now. Beyond that you’ve got Massachusetts Bay and then it’s the Atlantic Ocean. After that, Europe and Africa.”

  “It looks cold,” Eda said. “The water I mean.”

  “I swim out there every day if I can,” Goldman said. “Helps keep these old bones nice and limber. Even it’s freezing cold, and I’m talking about ball-shrinking weather, you’ll find me in the water.”

  “Impressive,” Eda said, with a half-smile.

  They walked up six flights of stairs to Goldman’s apartment. Eda’s legs throbbed as she tackled the concrete steps. She couldn’t understand why the old man hadn’t taken an apartment on the first floor.

  Finally they reached his front door on the sixth floor.

  Number 29.

  Goldman aggressively jiggled a key in the lock, barged his shoulder into the door and then walked inside. Eda followed, with Frankie Boy trotting close behind.

  There were photographs everywhere. It was the first thing Eda noticed as she walked into the otherwise modest and plain little apartment. So many photographs. They were on the wall, on the coffee table, the floor, and crammed side by side on the window ledges. There were a few others parked on the edge of the silvery blue cotton couch. They were family shots mostly but Eda caught a glimpse of a few others lying around with a serious looking young man standing front and center. This was a much younger Talbot Goldman, sporting a variety of bizarre hairstyles and clothes. He’d been a handsome, clean-shaven man back then. Pre-mustache. His hair was bluish-black and when it had been at its longest, a hint of thick curls could be seen forming around the edges. In most photos, solo and with his family gathered around him, Goldman wore a combat uniform featuring the old colors of the American army – a khaki, black and gold combo.

  “Do you sleep with that uniform on?” Eda asked.

  “As a matter of fact I do,” Goldman said, laughing.

  Eda looked closer at the family photos. Goldman was surrounded by a pack of adoring women. Three cute and smiling girls bunched up tight against their dad like monkeys hanging off a tree. A pretty red-haired woman stood beside Goldman, offering a knowing smile towards the camera. In the earliest photographs the girls were babies. The latest ones
however, didn’t go past their teenage years.

  Goldman dropped his rifle on the couch.

  “Back in a few minutes,” he said. “Going to fix you two something to eat. Big plates all round right?”

  “Sure,” Eda said. “Thanks.”

  “You haven’t tasted it yet,” Goldman said, disappearing into the hallway.

  While the old man was in the kitchen, Eda spent a little more time exploring the Goldman family museum. After that she crossed the living room and looked out of the small window. There was a decent view of the beach and harbor from up on the sixth floor. And she could still hear the dreamlike sound of waves in the distance.

  “You alright in there?” Goldman called out from the kitchen.

  “Fine,” Eda said.

  “Just make yourself at home. Food won’t be long now.”

  “How long have you lived here?” Eda asked.

  Silence.

  A moment later, Goldman appeared at the door carrying a bright red plastic tray in his hands. Two plates and a large metallic bowl sat atop the tray, all of them spilling over with food.

  “Can’t remember how long it’s been,” Goldman said. “Damn long. Before I got married anyway. My uncle owned this apartment and because he didn’t have any kids of his own he left it to me in his will. That was a big help back in the days when I worried about money and all that other material shit that doesn’t mean anything anymore.”

  Frankie Boy tilted his nose up at the tray.

  “Got some striped bass and vegetables,” Goldman said, making a loud announcement. “Jumbo-sized portions too. Skinny thing like you, you gotta put the meat back on. Plus, it’s a special occasion. God knows how long it’s been since there was anyone besides me in this apartment.”

  “You grow vegetables around here?” Eda asked, lifting one of the plates off the tray and smiling in gratitude. Her stomach was growling with anticipation.

  “I’ve got a garden of sorts not far from here,” Goldman said. He gazed towards the window that overlooked the harbor. “There’s a big old house down the road, they had lots of stuff growing out back. Well I found it abandoned and kept it going as best I could. It’s given me a hell of a lot more than just a sack of fresh vegetables now and then I can tell ya. Gardening and fishing, my two pastimes. That’s all I’ve got to wind down after a hard day’s soldiering in the city of Boston.”