A. R. Shaw's Apocalyptic Sampler: Stories of hope when humanity is at its worst

by A. R. Shaw

  “Sorta,” she said.

  “Good enough. Anything happens to me, you get the hell out of here and go back to that boy we saw today, all right?” Once again he couldn’t explain his trust in the boy.

  Sounding confused and scared by his tone, Macy answered, “Okay.”

  Graham quietly pushed the door closed and Macy climbed over into the driver’s seat while Bang reached around and locked all the doors manually.

  Graham moved around to the side window to peek inside. Through the wavy, dirty glass he could see that someone had started a fire in the woodstove that he and his dad had installed not so long ago. Flames could be seen behind the stove’s glass and ceramic door. No one was walking around in the main room, so he assumed the trespassers were asleep. Quietly and slowly Graham went up the wooden steps so as to not alert whoever might be inside. He tried the front door and found that the lock had been busted, so he pushed it in gently.

  Once inside he saw what he couldn’t have seen from out in the yard: the firelight danced on a woman who lay on the couch, sweating and shivering at the same time. She looked to be at least part American Indian and was obviously suffering from the virus—or something similar.

  Graham stepped halfway into the cabin, then stopped abruptly at the sound of a rifle bolt clicking back to his right.

  “Hold it right there, buddy,” a gravelly voice commanded. Graham remained frozen in place; he couldn’t believe he’d been through this horrible day, only to be murdered at the very end of it in his family’s own cabin.

  “Who the hell are you?” the stranger said, coming into view. An ancient man stood before Graham, probably the oldest man he’d ever laid eyes on. His sparse white hair was a striking contrast to his black skin. Graham pulled his right hand up, then lowered his own rifle with his left hand but didn’t drop it entirely.

  “It’s all right,” he said calmly as he tried to reassure the old man. “My name’s Graham Morgan, and this is my cabin. My family’s cabin, that is.”

  “So you say,” the old man retorted.

  “Really, it is. I’ve been coming up here every summer, my whole life. Now please lower that gun, before you hurt someone.”

  The old man complied, then Graham asked, pointing to the woman, “Does she have the virus?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. Don’t think so. She kidnapped me and took me here,” he said, complaining.

  Graham walked over to the woman. Beads of sweat covered her exposed face, and he pulled back the covers a little and saw that she was armed with a handy pistol at her stomach. She was unconscious, so Graham removed the pistol just so there weren’t any accidents and placed it on the floor under couch.

  Listening to her breathing, Graham said, “Something’s not right. Her breathing is too clear for this to be the virus. It’s some other infection,” he said.

  “I could’ve told you that, dummy,” the old man said.

  Graham looked at the old man, irritated. “Do you know her name?” he asked.

  “No. Dumb girl said I had to come with her, is all. I don’t know her. She said I had to come on account I wasn’t dying. I told her I couldn’t help it and she dragged me out here anyway.” The old man opened his arms wide, still holding onto the rifle.

  “Put that gun down now,” Graham said and realized the old man was short a cell or two and couldn’t be trusted with a weapon.

  “It’s not loaded,” the woman said quietly.

  Graham looked back at her, surprised by her soft voice.

  “Hi, I’m Graham. I can see you’re sick. Is it the virus?” he asked.

  She swallowed and looked at him, “No, I had a miscarriage yesterday, and I think there’s some kind of infection,” she said, tears flooding her eyes.

  This news hit Graham in the gut. “I’m really sorry to hear that” was all he could think to say. “Do you have any water?” he asked.

  “There’s some in my car. I just couldn’t make it back out there after getting him in here,” she said.

  “All right, I’ll get you some. Listen,” he said to both of them, “This is my family’s cabin. It’s fine if you stay here, but I want you to know I’ve got kids out in my truck and I need to bring them in here.” Then he added, “I’ll be right back.”

  Before he reached the door, though, he strode over to the old man and grabbed the gun, pointing it at him. “You behave, mister,” he said, guiding the cranky geriatric to a nearby chair.

  Back at the truck Graham informed the kids of the situation in the cabin. “Don’t be offended by the old man. He’s just cranky,” he said to them. “The lady’s really sick so we need to give her some of our antibiotics,” he said.

  When the children finally stepped out into the cool night air, they carried what they could and walked through the tall, dewy grass to the cabin. Macy helped her sister, and Sheriff walked along with Graham and Bang, nose twitching in response to the new smells along the way. The girls stopped at the porch, and Graham handed what he carried to Bang and lifted Marcy into his arms to climb the steps.

  By the time they entered, the lady was asleep again. The old man silently beheld the new intruders.

  “Them’s just children,” the old man said, a little disgusted, and pointed at them as if Graham promised him something else.

  “That’s right, they’re children. And you be nice to them,” Graham warned.

  “They can’t fight,” he said.

  “Fight what?” Graham asked him.

  “This war!” the old man said indignantly.

  Macy and Bang stopped behind Graham and stared, astonished.

  “There’s no war right now,” Graham said.

  “Dat’s what you think,” the old man said, rising on his old bowed legs and making his way slowly to the bunkroom at the back of the cabin.

  The kids clearly didn’t know what to make of all this and looked at Graham for an answer. He just shook his head with a little smile.

  “Man, this has been the longest day ever,” Graham said, realizing he still had Marcy in his arms. He put her down in the chair the old man just vacated.

  Sheriff walked over to the sleeping woman, sniffed at her, and looked up at Graham. “I know, buddy, she’s sick,” Graham said. “Marcy, let’s get your leg taken care of first. There’s a bathroom over here to the right.” Graham quickly redressed her wound, which didn’t look any different from that afternoon.

  Back in the kitchen, he asked them if they were hungry, but all three said they simply wanted to know where they could sleep. Graham walked them into the back room, where four hefty double-decker bunk beds stood like sentinels on guard. The old man appeared as a lump on the farthest one back on the right. They quietly tiptoed over to the other side, and Macy pulled back the covers on the bottom at the front end of the row, nearest the doorway, and motioned for Marcy to lie down. Graham helped Marcy onto the mattress, and Macy covered her up with a soft blanket he handed her from the stack that he pulled from a big, cedar chest at the end of the room.

  Bang climbed the ladder at the end of Marcy’s bed and settled down above her. Macy stood on the edge of Marcy’s bunk for a moment and covered up the boy. “Goodnight, Bang,” she said, and he smiled at her. Graham could tell Macy was the mothering type.

  She tucked her sister in again and brushed back her hair, “Goodnight, Marcy,” she said.

  “Goodnight, sis,” Marcy murmured sleepily.

  Macy got into a lower bunk near her sister, nearest the doorway on the left, and waved goodnight to Graham, who watched all of this from the doorway, wondering how they could perform such a normal ritual after such a hellacious day. They’d lost so much, and yet life went on. Graham walked away, amazed, and into the living area, where another life lay in harm’s way.

  26

  New Introductions

  As Graham entered the main room he saw Sheriff waiting by the front door. “You got to go out, boy?” he asked. He opened the door, adding, “Don’t go far, Sheriff.” He shut it li
ghtly, walked over to the fire, and added a log, which cast an ambient glow on the woman behind him.

  He heard the dog pad up the wooden porch steps and walked over to open the door. Sheriff trotted right past him and into the bunkroom like he knew where he was going, so Graham shut the door and reached up to lower the original locking lever, which the others had neglected to notice before, guarding against any nighttime intruders.

  Graham felt the woman’s forehead, and noticed her fever was dangerously high at this point. He removed her covers and saw that she visibly shook. “We’ve got to get you cooled off,” he said, not knowing if she could hear him.

  She wore a lacy white button-up blouse that was soaked through with sweat, along with denim jeans and cowboy boots. She must have had a difficult time getting herself and that cranky old man into the locked cabin, Graham thought.

  He grabbed water and a washcloth from the bathroom and wiped the woman’s forehead, face, and neck to cool her off. She woke and stared wildly at him with deep brown eyes. “I’m so cold,” she said.

  “Here, drink this,” Graham said, holding a glass of water up to her chapped lips and supporting her damp head. He gave her a doxycycline pill and two Ibuprofen to lower her temperature.

  “I know you’re cold, but we need to get you cooled off more. Your fever’s too high,” he said.

  She nodded her head, but he wasn’t sure if she recognized him from earlier or if she might be hallucinating now. Graham began removing her boots and socks. “I’ve got to take off your pants. Are you okay with that?” he asked.

  She was shaking, but she looked up at him, nodding. He unfastened the zipper on her denim jeans, reached behind her, and tugged them down. She tried to lift her body to help him but was clearly too weak to offer any real assistance.

  In the process, Graham tugged her pale pink panties down partially, exposing a bloody pad and a foul smell. He reached over and pulled them back into place. “Sorry,” he said, but he wasn’t sure if she was even aware of what had happened.

  Once he got the jeans down to her knees, she curled up her long creamy legs and rolled to her side, trying to warm herself. Through chattering teeth, she said, trying to smile, “You’ve done that before, I think.”

  Graham looked at her, a little embarrassed. “I’m married. I mean, I was married. She’s gone now,” he said.

  “Me too,” she said.

  “You said you miscarried. How far along were you?”

  “About six weeks,” she said, and a tear ran down her face. He wiped it away and tried to comfort this stranger who was in such private pain.

  “My wife was pregnant too,” he said. He didn’t need to say any more than that; she understood “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Tala.”

  “Tala,” he repeated. “Doesn’t that mean wolf?”

  Surprised, she looked at him. “Yes, it does,” she said. “You obviously know a little about Native American culture.”

  “Yep,” he said, covering her lower half lightly with the blanket and seeing that her shaking had subsided a little.

  “So tell me how you made it here?” he asked.

  “Well, I came from around Sedro-Woolley. There were a few looters going house to house. It just became too dangerous for me to stay. So, I got into my car and went to check on my nana at the home and found him, instead.” She smirked. “I just couldn’t leave him there in the stench. I had driven as far as my tank would allow, before the gas light came on, and then I found the dirt driveway, so I followed it and made it here. I hope you don’t mind. Maybe we can find another place to stay in the morning,” she said.

  “I’m not going to kick out a sick lady and an old man, Tala. We’ll see how things work out. For now, let’s just get you better. I’m not sure about the grouchy old man, but we’ll give it some time,” Graham said.

  He felt her forehead and it seemed to be a little less searing than before. “I’ll be right back,” he said, heading to the bunkroom, where he picked up two extra pillows and a few blankets.

  He lifted up her head so that he could put a clean pillow under it and made himself a pallet next to her on the floor by the fire.

  She began to protest, “You should go sleep on a bed in there.”

  “Shhh, Tala, get some sleep. I’ll be fine, and I need to keep the fire going anyway. We’ll talk more in the morning,” he said, justifying his intentions.

  Tala allowed herself to slip off to sleep, and Graham checked her fever once more to make sure it was continuing to subside before he finally closed his eyes on this day.

  27

  Getting Things Straight

  In Graham’s dream, Campos was the one pushing the rifle down on his neck, squeezing the life out of him. Campos was sneering and shaking above him with a reddened mad expression, and then Graham could hear Marcy’s screams from beyond, but this time he could not help her.

  He woke on the hard wood floor and sat up with a start as the old man kicked his boot again and pointed to the bunkroom.

  “She’s having a damn nightmare. You going to do something? She scarin’ me in there.”

  Graham scrambled up, threw his blanket off, and grabbed his rifle. He ran to the bunkroom.

  “Marcy, it’s okay. You’re fine,” Macy said to her sister as Graham rounded the corner. Bang sat atop his mattress and leaned down from above, trying to see Marcy. Sheriff stood on top of Macy’s bunk, whining, not knowing what to do about the girl’s crying.

  Macy held her sister, sobbing.

  “Marcy?” Graham called from the doorway and his voice seemed to get through to her where her sister’s hadn’t. She stopped shrieking. “Marcy,” he said again.

  Marcy drew in several ragged breaths and finally focused. “S-s-sorry,” she said, out of breath.

  Graham squatted beside her. “Don’t be sorry. It was just a nightmare.” He patted her golden locks and felt her for a fever, but there was none. One side of her forehead was black and blue now. He knew it would turn many shades in days to come. Hopefully, her scars inside would heal soon too. “This is hard for all of us, but at least we can stay here for a while.” He didn’t know what else he could say to comfort her.

  “Thanks, Graham,” Marcy said.

  “Hi there, Bang, you sleep well?” he said to change the subject.

  He laid the rifle up against the bed and reached to pick the boy up. Then he took Bang and the rifle back into the main room to give the girls some privacy. Sheriff followed along.

  “She woke me up with that racket,” the old man said to Graham.

  “Be nice, Ennis,” said Tala, who sat with the blanket wrapped around her.

  Graham watched Tala. She looked better, but she was not out of the woods yet. Her long glossy hair had come loose from the ribbon she’d had it tied in and hung loosely in waves well past her shoulders, giving her a wild look. Graham walked over to her and put Bang down beside her.

  “This is Bang. Bang, this is Tala.” Tala put her hand on the boy’s head.

  “Hi, Tala,” Bang said, and Sheriff nosed his head between them to sniff her out.

  “Be a gentleman, Sheriff,” Graham said.

  “Sheriff?” the old man asked.

  Bang pulled Sheriff’s collar around and showed Ennis the star. “He’s a police dog, see?” Bang said.

  “He’s a cop dog. Takes one to know one,” Ennis said and walked over to pet the dog.

  “You were a policeman?” asked Graham.

  “Yep. I’m retired now,” Ennis said.

  Graham chuckled to himself, and Tala caught on and tried to suppress her own laugh.

  “Do police dogs have special commands?” Graham asked. “He doesn’t answer to ‘come.’”

  “Police canines are often taught in languages other than English. The ones we had were taught commands in Hebrew, believe it or not.” Ennis tried out several words to see if the dog reacted to any of them, but no luck.

  �
�Tell me again. How’d you find him?” Graham asked Tala.

  “I went to check on my nana at the nursing home, but she’d passed away. They were all gone. It was terrible. Then I noticed several were covered in white sheets. Except him,” she said, pointing at Ennis. “He was the one who covered them up after they’d died—even the nurses,” she said.

  Graham looked at the man for some explanation. “You can’t just leave them like that, starin’ at you. It ain’t right,” Ennis said.

  Graham felt Tala’s forehead again and said, “You still have a fever, but it’s not as bad as last night. Let’s get some breakfast into you, and you and Marcy both need to take more meds.”

  “Is that one of the girls?” she asked.

  “Yeah, Macy and Marcy. We ran into some trouble yesterday and Marcy got hurt,” he said. “She’s fine, but she has a deep cut and we’re trying to keep it clean,” he added.

  “They’re twins?” she asked, surprised. She realized now she’d not really gotten a look at them the night before.

  “Yeah, Bang and I found them walking up the highway with Sheriff here,” Graham said.

  “He was keeping them girls safe,” Ennis speculated as he peered into the dog’s soulful eyes.

  “Yeah, well, it’s a long story,” Graham said. He didn’t want to go into it. He walked over to peer out the front window, and after being sure that everything was safe, he opened the front door for Sheriff to trot out and relieve himself.

  The cool morning air spilled into the cabin, releasing the stuffy sour smells trapped inside. Graham scanned the area for any signs of life. The cabin was circled by tall old-growth evergreens. They had been here even back when his second great-grandfather had bought the three hundred acres it was more or less centered on.

  Graham saw the familiar dark trail leading from the west side, meandering down to the lake below where they could fish for their dinner later today. He descended the porch steps and walked over to their newly acquired truck to bring in the supplies they’d brought.

  Bang showed up beside him, so he handed the boy as much as he thought he could carry into their new home. With six people, this meant that Graham would need to spread their food plan thinner and get busy hunting. It also meant he’d have to change out the composting toilet at least once a month. Although Graham had resented the extra work it took away from his fishing the previous summer, the facilities upgrade was worth it—no more walking outside in the weather to use the john.