by E A Lake
“That’s what you get for turning in all your clothes at once,” I replied. “If you were more prudent like me, you’d have a fresh clean set of your own clothes on.”
Her eyes flared as she broke into a hyena-style laugh. “You,” she pointed at me, her arm shaking. “You’ve been wearing the same clothes since we left home. You stunk so bad I was filled with glee every time we got near a fish camp, just for the relief.”
I opened my arms wide, bowing slightly with a huge grin. “And yet, I’m wearing my own clothes. Point proven.”
She waved away my humor with the toss of a hand. “You know I’m commando under here, right?”
Really? This just kept getting better and better. I thrust my arms skyward. “I love being right. I just love the feeling of complete vindication.”
She punched me in the shoulder, passing me to continue on. “You’d better hope I don’t have to wash this somewhere when we’re alone and in the woods. I know how much my body makes you nervous.”
Ha. Her problem, not mine. She was going to have to be smothered in fish guts and bear scat before I was letting her take that off. And as far as I knew, that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon.
A nearby bolt of lightning made me jump like a child. The rain had intensified and the wind was picking up, driving droplets of water into any exposed flesh. The storm had been going on for hours, and we were soaked.
Behind me, Violet huddled tightly against my back. With each gust of wind, each loud clap of thunder, she jumped. And then she moved closer, almost climbing up my back.
“There’s a river running under my butt,” she reported during a small lull in the storm. “I don’t think you have the tarp positioned right.”
Big deal. It wasn’t like I was going out to tuck it here and there, positioning it just right to keep my little princess warm and dry.
The wind blew harder, snapping the worn brown tarp to its limits. More water poured in on us, both from the driving rain and the flowing river from below. It had to stop sooner or later, I thought. Please, it can’t get any worse.
I felt her scratching at my back. “You’re going to have to build a huge fire when this ends so we can try to dry our clothes,” Violet shouted.
I shook away her thought. “I can go a long time in wet clothes. They’ll dry eventually.”
“No!” she countered. “Mom always said if you do that they can mold to your body. You can get some really nasty diseases that way.”
I felt a grin coming on. “Well…” I waited under the thunder subsided, “that ain’t gonna happen. We’re keeping our clothes on until we can get somewhere that has fresh clothes for us.” I peeked back at her. “So deal with it.”
Her head shook against my back like she was disagreeing. But that was her tough luck. We weren’t getting all Adam and Eve out here anymore. Once was enough.
Hours later, I watched the glow of the fire and reached out to warm my wet, chilly hands. The rain wasn’t fun by itself, but a cold driving rain was worse.
Next to me, squatting near the flames, Violet bit on her lower lip. That was kind of funny to me. She’d won, again. I would have thought she’d be gloating and all, “I told you so” still. Instead, she was quiet, almost somber.
She peeked up and noticed the beach towel wrapped around my mid-section. That brought a smile. “I told you we needed to bring a couple towels with us. But nooo, not you. Not Mr. Macho.” Her eyes went back to the fire. “At least you would have had something to wrap around your shoulders and chest. Aren’t you cold?”
“I’m fine,” I mumbled.
“Don’t be stubborn, sit down and we can both wrap in this blanket. It’s wet, but at least I’m warm.” She opened the blanket slightly and I looked away.
Yeah, I seethed to myself, that’s just what she wants. Get me under that blanket with her. All nice and warm and cozy and naked. We both know where it would go from there.
“No, really,” I replied. “I’m fine.”
We both went back to staring at the orange glow, warming our chilly skin and hopefully drying our clothes. But I was afraid that would be an all-night adventure.
“I need to tell you something and you have to promise me you won’t get mad.” Violet looked up at me. And if I wasn’t mistaken, I thought I saw a glimmer of fear in her eyes.
“What now?” I snapped, causing her to frown. Oh, she meant mad at the problem, not the question. “Shoot, we can discuss whatever’s on your mind.”
Taking a deep breath, she began, “When you were gone chasing after Barster, maybe the second or third day, there was an incident.”
I felt my eyes narrow. “Incident?” I asked, trying not to sound snarky.
“I went outside mid-day and heard Libby behind the house, talking to someone.”
Now she had my full attention.
She glanced away, pulling her hair back. “But it wasn’t a someone, it was a something.” She stared at me as if to hold me to my word — no getting upset. “It was a wolf pup. And she was carrying it around, kissing it and playing with it like a puppy, or a baby.”
I felt my entire being tense. “You should have told me this before we left. I needed to talk to her about it.”
She shook away my concern. “We knew she was going to stay with Mr. Wilson. He even said there was no sense in getting you all riled up the minute you got back.”
“Those are not pets, Violet. They’re wild animals. Not Libby’s plaything.”
“I know,” she agreed softly. “I told her that. And we sat it down by its mother when the pup began to cry.”
“Sadie?” I asked, knowing that it could have never happened with one of her’s. It had to be from the first batch the first summer.
“Nope. The one Daisy always called Willow. The really tan one.”
When — if — we ever got back, Libby needed to be set straight. Talk about things that could get you killed up here; that was near the top of the list.
“Why do you think all those people back in Beacon Hill were so fat?” Violet asked, going back to chewing on a nail. “And so happy?”
“That place was well run. And they weren’t all that chubby, just properly fed. The people were taken care of, all their equipment was clean, and they had plenty of supplies.” I crouched beside her, making sure my towel stayed closed. “One guy told me they hardly ever had any turnover. People came and stayed. A number of them have been there since the beginning.”
“Would have been nice to find clothes somewhere near my size,” she said with a yawn. “I’m going to close my eyes for a while if that’s okay with you?”
I helped her readjust the blanket and did my best to tuck her in.
“Goodnight, Bob,” she said already drifting into a dream. “I love you.”
I watched her fall asleep. “Goodnight, Violet.” Kissing her forehead, I watched her until my eyes became heavy as well.
Day 1,166
When we awoke the next morning, the sun was already high in the sky. My neck hurt like hell from being bent forward all night. And the several times I had woken and stoked the fire, my towel was on the ground. But Violet slept in one position, never moving, never even stirring.
Our clothes were still partially damp, so I stoked the fire into a blaze to hurry up the drying process. The next stop on our journey was North Canal Fish Camp, and from what I had been told, it was still a full day’s walk away.
Staring at a piece of our only source of protein, whitefish, Violet examined it as if it were covered in mold.
“I’m getting kind of sick of fish,” she mumbled, taking a small bite and spitting it immediately into the fire. “I actually had a dream the other night about venison stew. I woke up craving it.”
Passing her a bag of dried carrots, I watched as she pushed it away. “You gotta eat something,” I coaxed, “otherwise you can get sick. And out here,” I spread my arms wide, “sick ain’t a good thing.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose just between h
er eyes. “Do you remember a couple years back, when we ate those full meals together at Lettie’s?”
I couldn’t help but grin. “Ah, the good ol’ days.”
Sighing loudly, she hung her head. “I used to complain all the time about those meals.”
That I remembered.
“All I wanted was pizza, or tacos, or even a burger.” Something about the subject caused her pain, I could see it in her eyes. ”I’d kill for a meal like that. Since the Barster fellow robbed us, it’s been downhill. Each meal gets smaller. When I was pregnant and you were all forcing food down my throat while you starved, I wanted to die. Now I’d go back and relive those moments just to clean every last crumb off my plate.”
I nodded several times, rearranging our clothes, hoping it would help dry them quicker.
“Always ahead, Violet. Never back.” I glanced at her briefly and found her gazing at her hands, lost in thought. “That’s the only way we’re ever going to make it.”
“Make what, though? Another day, another week, maybe until we see the snow again?” She had a point; the worst was just ahead.
“If I didn’t have Hope, I don’t think I’d be alive,” she confessed, standing and coming to my side. “I can’t believe she’s alive. How, Bob, is she able to survive in this really shitty world? How does she thrive and smile and roll over? She has no idea what’s ahead.”
“Because she knows the truth!” a third voice boomed nearby. I spun and leveled my weapon at the man. Who the hell was he? And how had he snuck up on us so easily?
His hands rose instantly. “I mean no harm,” he said with a broad smile. “I’m here to help.”
Seeing he had no weapons and didn’t pose a threat, I lowered my gun. Tall, thin fellow, maybe 50 or so, but for all I knew, he could’ve been 90. A crop of white hair and matching beard made it look like he’d seen death and beyond. I couldn’t pick a color for his dark, yet kind, eyes. But his manner of dress told me exactly who he was.
“Welcome…Prophet,” I stated in an even tone. “You may as well join us for a bite of dried fish and carrots. My friend here,” I pointed at Violet, “has lost her appetite.”
He stooped forward and shook our hands. “Man does not live on bread alone, but a bite would be nice.” He knelt by our meager offering and dug in. “And just call me Tim. I’m not a prophet.”
Violet and I exchanged a non-believing grin. We’d seen a lot of these types in the last four years. And no matter what they called themselves, they all sold the same line: “God has big plans for you.” Yeah, right. “So what you got for us…Tim?” I asked, going back to fanning our clothes. “Salvation? Word of God’s divine love?” I winked at Violet. “Two loaves and four fishes?”
Licking the smoked grease of the whitefish from his fingers, Tim looked back at me.
“I’ve got better than that,” he said, taking another bite and chuckling. “You ain’t gonna believe this, but I bring you the truth.”
I went back to my chores, casting away his stare with the flip of a hand. “We got all kinds of proof that there is no God. So whatever truth “He” sent you to give us is a bunch of bullshit.”
Violet rose, wrapping the blanket — her covering — tighter. “I believe in God still,” she proclaimed to the charlatan. “I want to hear his truth.”
Tim simply nodded, crunching a carrot in his mouth. “I don’t have God’s truth for you, sweetie. I have the truth.”
Staring at the back of his head, Violet reached out and touched his shoulder. “The truth about what?” she asked, almost sounding a little nervous.
Tim took a long swig from the canteen and rose, his eyes shifting between both of us.
“The truth,” he whispered, nodding as he did, “about what happened to our world.”
I paused my chore and met Violet’s eyes. Okay Tim, I thought, you have our attention. Now show us what you got.
Day 1,166 - continued
Violet decided her dress was dry enough to put on. Tim and I turned away as the stiff fabric scratched down her body. Mine were also dry enough to put back on. With a chill in the cloudy day, we wrapped in the blanket together next to the fire and let the old man take the stage.
“First, I have to admit to something,” he began, running his fingers around his dry, wind-burned lips. “I am a man of God. Always have been, always will be. I think we can all agree that God still provides for us.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Well, two out of three may agree on that. I don’t see God in the world anymore. And I can’t figure out why he did this to us.”
“It was nature, son,” Tim countered. “God had nothing to do with it. Everything happened because of nature, and a perfect storm.”
I let him speak, but he’d already lost me a little. I had been taught that God, or whatever anyone else wanted to call “Him” or “Her”, was all around us. That included nature. Thus, I was already skeptical.
“Have you ever heard of the Van Halen radiation belts?” Tim inquired, taking a spot across from us on a large rock.
I laughed aloud. “Van Halen was a music group.”
“Van Allen radiation belts,” Violet offered quietly. “I learned about them in school.
Tim nodded. “That’s right, young lady. Van Allen. I always get those messed up somehow.”
“So it was radiation,” I spouted. That was the only thing that had ever made sense to me, though I could never figure out the how.
The end had come so quickly, almost efficiently. And from the murmurs I’d heard over the years, this mess covered our country, our hemisphere, perhaps even our world. But how?
“Legend has it,” Tim continued, “and I’ve heard it several times second-hand from people who knew someone who knew. One of the radiation belts buckled, the one closest to Earth.”
“But that was more than 1,000 miles up,” Violet replied, looking at us both as if it didn’t make sense. “And it had so many layers of atmosphere, even the stratosphere to penetrate. How’s that possible? I learned it could never be of any harm to us.”
Tim opened his mouth to answer, but I cut him off. “And who exactly did you talk to about this, Tim? And where? I’d really like to know that before you go selling us real estate 30 miles east of downtown Milwaukee.”
Violet nodded and looked back at Tim. “Yes. Go way back. Where are you from? And what did you do before all of this?”
Tim offered a weary smile and looked for something softer than the rock to rest on. “This is going to take a while.”
That was fine. We had had nowhere to be.
It took him a few minutes to get comfortable, then he needed another sip of water and a baggie of dried fruit to build his blood sugar back to where he needed it to focus properly. I was fairly certain he wasn’t a diabetic, at least not a type one. Most of those people had been dead for two or three years now.
“Four plus years ago,” he began in a quiet tone, “my wife and I lived in Ashland, Wisconsin. She was a teacher and I was a preacher. And we had a good life. Kids, grandkids, enough money to live a modest life. Everything, it seemed.”
His eyes turned dark, perhaps even cloudy if there was such a thing. “And then The Darkness arrived. Same in Ashland as with everywhere else in the Midwest. Like a thief in the night. I went to bed at eleven-thirty that night and everything was fine. When I woke at my usual time the next morning, I noticed the clock wasn’t working. Neither were our phones, or anything else.”
He went quiet for a few moments, most likely lost in memories that were only recorded in his mind and nowhere else.
“The wife and I left Ashland that first spring.” Tim’s weary eyes stared into the fire, any life they had previously shown gone. “We had a horse and buggy. We had family over in Duluth and the Twin Cities that my wife wanted to check on. One of our kids and my wife’s younger sister.
“Ashland had been spared the fever that first winter. There were dead people like everywhere else, just not as many as some of the big
ger places. Duluth was bad. We stood on the big bridge over the harbor coming in one morning. The silence was the eeriest thing I’ve ever witnessed. The big ships were all quiet. One coal freighter that must’ve been coming in when everything died was stranded up against the Duluth side, a little north of downtown.”
He paused a moment, breathing deeply. I had a feeling I wouldn’t like what he was going to say next.
“Got to my son’s house and they were gone. He, his wife, and his two teenaged kids,” Tim paused and smiled at Violet. “One of the girls looked kind of like you. Maybe a little taller.” Violet returned his smile, nodding for him to go on.
“Neighbor said he didn’t think they were dead or even sick. Last he knew, they were headed north up the shore for some place safer. He told me something strange, too. He said he’d heard that Duluth and Superior’s population was estimated to be about 20,000 people that spring. Seemed kinda low to me.”
I’d never been to the twin ports, thus I had no idea. Tim stared at me, his eyes filled with a sadness that I’d only felt twice: when I realized Daisy had been taken, and when I accepted the fact I was never going to see Shelly ever again.
“Last I’d heard, before all this started, the population of that area was almost 300,000 people. I wondered where they all had gone. And he told me some had left, but a lot had died. The wife and I wondered what that funny stench was when we got close. Why all the smoke was hanging in the harbor. They burned their dead; that way, they hoped they’d kill the disease, too.”
He took a swig of water, handing the canteen to me when he finished. I took one too. My throat felt dry from hearing his tale.
“We took off right away from St. Paul. Just 180 miles I thought, maybe 10 days in the buggy. The second day in, someone stole our horse and cart at gunpoint. The fifth day, they shot my wife for not handing over her supply pack fast enough. Her dying wish was for me to find her sister and make sure she was alright. So for the next two years, that’s what I did. Searched.”
