by Tony Urban
Delphine handed Emory a baggie of marijuana and a small stack of thin papers.
“That’s the last of it until next summer so you best make it last.”
“Much obliged, Madame.”
“I ain’t no Madame.”
Delphine had been his supplier since they arrived at the Ark. Well, since a month after they arrived. When he wasn’t doing whatever task he’d been assigned for the day, Emory enjoyed wandering. On one of his walks he’d seen the ten feet by ten feet patch of plants soaking up the sunlight. It was a mile or more from camp, near the isolated north end of the island and he’d wondered who had taken the initiative to plant them.
He decided to play detective and make it a point to visit the garden daily. About a week in to his stakeouts, he saw Delphine staggering toward it, a five-gallon bucket of water clutched in her hands with plenty sloshing out as she walked. He didn’t confront her about them that day. In fact, he waited almost a week. Then, one day in the mess hall he casually commented, “Mary, Mary quite contrary, what makes your garden grow?” in a singsong voice. Delphine’s head snapped around so quick he thought she might sprain her neck. He flashed a reassuring smile and took a seat beside her and their friendship had begun.
They sat in front of the remnants of that garden now. The plants had been cut to the ground, revealing the nearly frozen lake that stretched out before them.
“It’s quite lovely, isn’t it?” Emory said.
“Prettiest place I ever did see. But I ain’t seen many.”
“Well, I have. And it’s certainly near the top of the list.”
They were silent for a minute, taking in the view and enjoying the cool but not quite cold air that blew by. It was hard for Emory to stay quiet for long though.
“This is going to sound selfish, coming from someone who survived the plague when so many did not, but I do wonder if this might make the people who survived change for the better.”
Delphine narrowed her eyes which turned into black slits. “How’s that?”
“People, not everyone certainly, but most, seemed to have forgotten that life is a gift. Living became something that happened in between working and driving and shopping and playing games on your phone. It was an afterthought. Maybe this will make people appreciate it again.”
He thought Delphine looked skeptical or confused, or both. She didn’t respond for a long while but when she did she surprised him.
“You think people here appreciate it? Running around like drone bees, doing their part to keep the hive going?”
“I think there are many flaws here.”
“You got that right. There’s many a day I wished I’d have told Doc when he showed up here and told me about the commune he wanted to build, that he could stick it where the sun don’t shine. But at the time, the way he told it, it sounded good and almost Christian. After all, I didn’t need all this land for myself.” She paused to sniff and clear her sinuses. “But the way I imagined, in a commune all’s equal. That ain’t the case here.”
“Certainly not.”
“But now the doing’s done and I’m stuck with him. Guess that’s my penance for him keeping me alive.”
Emory watched her. There was frustration and sadness in her eyes. He wanted to keep her talking but was wary about pushing it too hard. “I understand. It’s almost miraculous that he could prevent the plague from reaching the island. Out there—“ he motioned to the air beyond them, “It seemed virtually no one was spared.
Delphine gave something like a snort or a “Hmpf” but didn’t respond further.
Emory pocketed the marijuana and decided not to pursue the issue. Not now, anyway. He stood and stretched. Joints in his lower back snapped like dry twigs.
“Well, my friend, I must head back lest the others worry I’ve fallen into a ditch or perhaps got kicked in the head by one of Wim’s cows and am now wandering about dimwitted and lost.”
Delphine shook her head. “You’re an odd duck.”
Emory smiled. As an old, gay, black man he’d been called many things in his life. An ‘odd duck’ was a compliment in comparison. “And you are a splendid horticulturist.”
He gave a little bow and left her. As he strolled away he thought his friendship with Delphine had the potential to produce much more valuable fruit than cannabis. He thought that, in time, Delphine might be the key to unraveling this mysterious world Doc had created.
Chapter Thirty-One
The news ripped through camp like a tornado. The boy Wim had brought into the Ark was not simply alive, but up and walking around. Mina saw him when she went to collect their rations. It was her first foray outside the trailer and she saw the boy sitting in the mess hall, eating breakfast with a few of the others. Harsh, black stitches that reminded her of railroad tracks curved up from each side of his mouth, but he seemed fine aside from the cosmetic damage. She even saw him laugh when Phillip tried, and failed, to balance a spoon on his nose. The boy saw her too and Mina could feel his eyes on her as she waited in line.
She asked around and found out his name was Wayne Supanek. No one knew why he’d been sliced up, but Doc had assured them that he was no longer contagious, if he’d ever been so in the first place. And apparently Phillip had been put in charge of acclimating him to camp. That alone made Mina hope to avoid him, but after she was handed her box of canned and dried food and bottled water, Wayne caught her as she hit the exit.
“I’ll get that for you,” he said as he held open the door.
“Thanks, but I could have managed.”
Mina passed through into the cold daylight.
Stay away from me.
But he didn’t.
“You’re one of the outsiders, aren’t you? Phillip told me about you.”
“My name’s Mina. And I’m sure he did.”
“He told me how Doc’s people saved you and your friends. How’d you get here?”
“In a car.”
“But like, how’d you find it? Does Doc let anyone who survived in?”
“Nope, we were the last. Until you. And I bet your new pals didn’t tell you this, but they didn’t exactly welcome you with open arms.”
“Why not? You’d think they’d be happy to find survivors.”
Mina didn’t need any more friends, especially ones who’d been vetted by Doc and Phillip, but Wayne followed her like a lost puppy all the way to the trailer, peppering her with questions the entire time. She tried to be curt, bordered on rude even, but he refused to take a hint.
When they got within ten yards of the trailer, the door pushed open and Wim leaned out. Mina could see the surprise on his face when he spotted the kid. He bounded down the steps and into the snow.
“You’re— “
Wayne cut him off. “Holy shit, man. You’re the guy who saved me. Wim, right? I’m Wayne.”
Wim pushed his hand forward and the kid took it between both of his, pumping up and down rapid fire. At the sight, Mina’s frost thawed, just a little.
“I thought for sure you were gonna die,” Wim said.
“I almost did, from what I’ve been told. I sucked up the antibiotics like a motherfucker, but I made it. Beat the odds all over again. Wish there was still a lottery because I’d sure as shit be playing it.”
“How about you get out of the cold and come inside?” Wim said.
Wayne nodded and raced up the steps. Wim took the box from Mina, a big smile on his face. She hated to do anything to change that expression, but he needed to know.
“Doc and Phillip are already in his head. So just be careful what you say, okay?”
Wim’s smile did falter and Mina immediately felt guilty. “I will.”
Mina watched as Wim and Wayne shared stories about their lives and the days after the plague. Mina found the kid to be a little too excited about the whole ordeal, but tried to write it off as the follies of youth.
“You ought watch that one, Birdie. He worms his way into the group and next thing you know,
they won’t have no need for you,” her daddy’s voice said inside her head. She thought he might be right too. Wayne was young and bound to get bigger and stronger. He’d certainly be more of an asset than herself.
It was clear Wim liked him and now that bothered her. And it bothered her more that the boy was so doggone happy. What gave him the right to be so happy?
“You’ve got a pretty sweet set up here though. I mean, an island? Doesn’t get much safer than that,” Wayne said.
“I suppose,” Wim said.
“Suppose? Do you know something I don’t?”
Wim opened his mouth to respond but Mina cut him off. “He means that, on an island, we run out of supplies. Then people like him have to go risk their lives so everyone else can wipe their butt.”
“Oh.” Wayne giggled. “I never thought about that part.” He turned back to Wim. “But anyway, thanks for saving me. I’d have died for sure without you.”
“I’m glad I found you.”
“I am too man. I think I’m gonna like it here.”
Mina had liked it on the Ark too, at first. That changed over time but she wasn’t going to tell Wayne that. He could find out what Doc and his allies were like all on his own.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“She’s correct. Although I might be a little out of practice.” Emory grinned, a delighted smile if Ramey had ever seen one.
“How did you know about this?” Wim asked Ramey.
“We talk, Wim. Not everyone’s a glorified mute like you.”
Wim’s cheeks brightened and Ramey gave him a pinch in the side to show she was kidding.
He still feels thin, she thought and shivered a little because of how close she’d come to losing him forever. “How many ceremonies did you say you performed? Twenty?”
“Heavens no. Twelve at the most. Ten is more likely though. Perhaps even as few as eight. Weddings all tend to blend together after a while so it’s difficult to keep track.
“But how are you allowed to marry people? You’re not a reverend,” Wim said.
“That’s correct. I am an ordinary citizen. Albeit a very gay one. When marriage between people like myself became legal, I had a myriad of friends who wanted to make their love official but they desired something a touch more intimate than standing in a courthouse in front of some stranger. So, I took a few courses on the internet and a few weeks later, wah-lah. Emery Prescott, Licensed Minister at your service.”
“Ain’t you just full of surprises? Full of something, anyhow,” Mina chimed in from the stove where she added tea bags to a pot of boiling water.
“I’ll disagree with neither assertion,” Emory said to her, then turned back to the others. “Now, pray tell, why are my extracurricular activities of such sudden interest to you both?”
Ramey almost blurted it out, but she wanted to hear Wim say it. She wasn’t upset that she hadn’t received an actual proposal, but she wanted to hear the words come from his lips this time.
Wim hemmed and was on the verge of hawing too when he finally managed to say it. “I plan to marry Ramey. I want her to be my wife.”
She didn’t care if he wasn’t eloquent or that there was nothing poetic about his plain, just the facts ma’am, manner of speaking. It was what was behind the words that mattered and she knew that, when Wim said something, it was the truth and that was all that mattered. But then he surprised her.
“I didn’t think it was possible to love someone the way I love her. And I don’t intend to ever let that go.”
Ramey grabbed hold of his arm and pulled herself into him. She wanted to kiss him but knew doing so in front of Emory and Mina would make him uncomfortable, so she stopped herself. That’s okay. There will be time for that, and more, later.
“I must say, that’s the best news I’ve heard in nearly forever,” Emory said and Ramey saw his eyes shining, wet with tears. She thought he looked equal parts happy and proud and then came a pang in her chest because she thought this man who had been such a father figure to her during their time on the road, was far happier over this news than her real father would ever be. She pushed that thought out of her head as quick as possible, not wanting to ruin the moment.
“Is there a time-line that we’re dealing with? Christmas nuptials, perhaps?”
Ramey hadn’t given that part any thought and when she looked to Wim she saw he was equally clueless. “What do you think?” He asked.
“I don’t like waiting. I’d marry you this very second if Emory’s up for it.”
“Oh no. No, no, no,” Emory said as he stood up. “I’m going to need some time to prepare. To write something worthy of two of the best people I’ve ever known committing themselves to one another.” He grabbed a notebook off the counter.
Ramey thought she could almost see the gears spinning in his head. “When then?” She asked.
“Would two days be sufficient?”
“Do we have a choice?”
“Of course not.”
“Then two days it is.”
Emory extended his long, thin arms and wrapped them around her, the notebook clanging awkwardly against her back. She was shocked at the strength in his embrace. Over his shoulder, she saw Mina pat Wim on the forearm and try to smile. Ramey suddenly felt guilty for being so happy while Mina was still adrift in a sea of depression over losing the man she had loved.
When Emory let go, Ramey went to her. She had never gotten to know Mina as good as some of the others, but she couldn’t imagine the pain she had endured.
Mina gave a tight smile. “Congratulations.”
Ramey put her arms around the frail woman and felt her go as stiff as a board. She put her lips close to Mina’s ear and whispered, “I’m sorry you didn’t get to be happy too.”
Mina softened. Just a bit. So slight that Ramey might have missed it if she hadn’t been paying attention. “I was. It just didn’t take.”
Ramey released her and their eyes met for a flitting moment before each looked away.
Wim spoke up and broke the strange silence that had momentarily overtaken the trailer. “I want you there, Mina, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course. You’re my friends.”
“Who else will be attending? Emory asked. “I don’t imagine your father.”
Ramey lost her smile. Her father was the last person she intended to tell, let alone invite. The very idea made her feel ill. “No. Not him. The four of us came here together. That’s enough for me.”
“There’s someone else I’d like to be there,” Wim said. “If you don’t mind.”
“Who, Wim?” Ramey asked.
“Delphine. She saved my life. And she’s not like the others here.”
“Indeed, she is not.” Emory said.
“Is that all right with you?” Wim asked.
“Of course. You don’t have to ask for permission.”
“Very well then. Now, I must get to work.” Emory slipped out of the kitchen, to his bedroom.
“Will you both have some tea?” Mina asked. “It’s generic, nothing fancy, but I make it sweet.”
“That sounds good to me,” Ramey said.
As Mina took a pot from the stove, Ramey thought her life was almost as perfect as could be under the circumstances.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The snow came down fast in big, fat flakes that took a full three seconds to melt after landing on Wim’s face. He didn’t mind the snow. He suspected his heart was beating so quick and pushing so much blood through his body that it could have been negative twenty degrees and he still wouldn’t have felt the cold.
Emory stood to his left and Mina and Delphine waited a few feet to the right. There was no music but that didn’t matter. Emory had picked out this spot, a little bluff overlooking the lake at the north end of the Ark, one of the few borders unmarred by a fence or wall.
The water, which would have normally been lapping at the rocks, was mostly frozen, leaving just a sea of white ice stretching out as far as he cou
ld see. Wim had never imagined a wedding day that required him to be the groom, but he doubted he could have dreamed up anything more perfect.
He caught Emory staring at him and wondered if he’d done something dumb like forget to comb his hair or buttoned his shirt unevenly.
“How do I look?”
“Like one of the happiest men I’ve ever seen.” Emory placed his hand on Wim’s freshly shaved cheek and caressed it with his thumb. “I couldn’t be any prouder if you were my own son. Thank you, Wim.”
Wim furrowed his brow. “For what?”
“Never mind. You might want to look the other way.”
Wim turned to look down what passed as an aisle. Ramey appeared through the blowing snow, slowly at first like a TV signal on a stormy day, and he could only make out bits and pieces of her. As she neared him, he saw more clearly. She wore a white sweater and blue jeans. She didn’t carry any flowers - it was December, after all - and she kept her hands clasped in front herself while she walked to him. When she got close enough, Wim saw she was crying. Her cheeks glistened with frozen tears.
“You’re so gorgeous, it took my breath away,” Wim said to her and he meant it. He took her hands in his own and hoped his weren’t sweating from the nerves that threatened to overtake him.
“And you look so handsome. You even have your shirt buttoned up all the way,” she said, squeezing his hands and grinning.
Wim turned from her to Emory. “Now what?”
Emory unfolded a piece of notebook paper. “I’ve prepared a few remarks. If I would have had more time, I suspect I could have been more eloquent, but hopefully I did a satisfactory job.”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Wim said.
“Alright then. Without further ado.” Emory turned is face downward, toward his notes. “I met Wim almost seven months ago as I sat on a park bench and contemplated whether there was a point to going on in this new world. I was leaning toward the answer being no when Wim pulled up in his Bronco.”
