“Darius, his namesake comes from a Persian King.” Slowly, Cassius rose to his feet and glided toward Connor. Connor mirrored him, leaving his book behind him on the desk as Cassius left his empty bowl sitting by Blake. As Cassius grew closer, his voice became quieter, though the room was small enough that everyone could still here. “Then there’s mine: Cassius. I’m sure it carries meaning, of what I don’t know, but it’s stayed alive with the help of a very famous man, a man whose memory has stayed alive for thousands of years because of a single act. Of course you remember where that name comes from.” The men stared at each other. “No?” He forced a fake-humored laugh. “Well, Cassius was one of the main conspirators that killed Julius Caesar. See, he knew that power can make a man turn into something evil… make him do things that most men wouldn’t have the stomach for. So when the opportunity came…he snuffed him out.”
Gabriel and Poe inched closer to Cassius, ready to restrain him if need be, but with a flick of his hand, Connor waved them off. He grinned, basking in the opportunity to expose the man who thought himself a lion as the lamb he actually was. “Oh don’t mistake, Cassius, I am very familiar with my Roman history, as it sounds like you are. That must mean that you remember what happened to the conspirators that killed Caesar.” He paused for a moment to look around at the faces staring at them, and saw that, as he wanted, he’d gained their full attention. All were frozen, and for a moment it seemed as though oxygen itself had fled their home, afraid of what the outcome of the conversation between the two men would be. “When the people found out what the conspirators had done, they were angry, and drove them from the city. Cassius and those who followed him died far away from the home that they loved in disgrace, away from the family and friends and the neighbors they thought they were protecting.” His voice grew louder.
“You see, the people wanted Caesar to be in power. They wanted to be led by a man who was smarter than they were. They knew that Caesar was what they needed to prosper.” He took another glance around the room. They were all still fixated on him, and he basked in it, turning his attention back to Cassius. “So the lesson we can learn here, is that history tells us, if someone is thinking of leading a revolt, then he must make sure the people he is liberating want to be freed…otherwise, he will just end up alone and dead, left to rot among the rest of nature’s creatures that made very poor decisions.”
Connor broke his stare with Cassius, leaving him standing in the middle of the living room alone. “Now, everyone pick a sleeping bag. We are going to have a lot of work to do in the morning.” He ascended the stairs, and listened as his wife said goodnight to their guests. And that was exactly what they were: guests. He had to admit, he was impressed by Cassius’ bravery. Yes, there was cockiness about him, but he saw a bit of himself in the man’s certainty, his hardened stare. But there was only one thing to do with a guest who wears out his welcome. And if the time came, he was prepared to do just that.
***
5:30 a.m. came quickly. In a way, Connor was surprised how soundly he slept. But, he realized he shouldn’t have been: seeing Karma fix what human nature had broken as he sat by and watched had given him the miraculous ability to sleep more soundly than he ever had.
He marched downstairs, followed by each member of his family in a single-file line: orderly, just how he liked it. “Up, up! Everyone up! It’s time to get you acquainted with your new home!”
He heard moaning from the next of sleeping bags in the living room. “We just got to sleep,” one said. “Please let us be,” said another.
“Well I guess your bodies will just have to adjust.” Slowly, all of them began to rise, stretching and bending their way into alertness.
Once they were all up and dressed, Connor had them line up outside. He was slightly irritated that the men still stood ever so slightly in front of the women, as if they expected to be harmed, but as he remembered the faces of those he had sent away, he smirked to himself. He had all their well-beings held tightly in his grasp, and the power that they had taken from him, he now held with a steady, strong hand. “We are going to begin our tour in the barn. Follow me.”
As they walked to the barn, Connor smiled to himself. How fitting, he thought. All these people, people who thought we were crazy, are now following behind me; as they should. Ironically, coming here was probably the smartest thing they’ve ever done. He smiled at Kate, who was walking next to him. “Wait until they see this,” he whispered. “After this, they will understand the depths of their helplessness more than they ever have.” He reached for her hand, but she stuck it in the pocket of her skirt. He blamed it on the cool morning air, and kept walking.
Poe and Harper slid open the doors of their barn, presenting their doomsday oasis to the rest of the group. Connor pointed to the left side: “Here, you will see we have pens of livestock: chickens, goats, and cows. There is a fenced field on the other side of this barn. There is a door where each type of animal can pass through to get to the field during the day, and they come back in here at night to sleep or to stay out of the sun. They provide us milk and eggs, and, in a pinch, protein.” They stepped slowly through the barn, and Connor watched as they all studied the place that would give them the food they would normally find wrapped neatly in plastic at the super market. He wondered if anyone would have trouble eating an animal now that they had to look them in the face first. Most likely, they would avoid eating their livestock, but Connor knew from experience that some people had just as much trouble looking into the eyes of a deer or a rabbit as they pulled the trigger. Human guilt didn’t discriminate between livestock and wildlife.
He pointed to the right side of the barn, where there were hundreds of plants and giant tubs of water with live fish swimming about. Some were rather large, while some were barely two inches long. “Here we have our aquaponics garden. The fish provide nutrients for the plants, and of course, give us protein and vital sustenance. If any of you paid attention to any of your fancy health magazines, you would know that your omega-3s are very important if you want to stay healthy. As none of you ever bothered to figure out, malnutrition can be just as deadly as any disease, and I need you all in peak physical condition. There will be no place for weakness here.” Pointing to the plants, he said, “Lettuce, herbs…most plants that you can think of, and some that you’ve never heard of, are in this garden. They come from all over the world, and they all have a variety of nutritional benefits which we will need since going to the neighborhood drugstore is no longer an option.” He laughed. “There are even some here that can kill you. If you’re good, maybe I’ll tell you which ones.”
Every face in the group grew cold, and Connor smiled. He felt Kate glare at him, and turned to see her arms folded and a heavy stare aimed right through his eyes, but he pushed on. “Everything in here is put to use, including the waste. That contraption over there was made by my son Gabriel.” He gave a proud nod to his son. “There, even the waste products are converted into compost or fertilizer for the outside garden. Nothing is wasted here.”
He watched as they all took in their surroundings, when suddenly a buzzing sound interrupted their concentration. “Perfect timing!” Connor said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handheld ham radio. “I want to introduce you to another member of our group: a very important one at that.” He pushed a button. “Gordon? You there, buddy?” Gordon was the first person Connor ever felt comfortable enough to call buddy, and probably the last. That comfort probably came from the fact that they never had, and never would, meet face to face.
“Sure am! How’s it going over there?” His voice crackled.
“Going well. Have some new people here now…just showing them around. You?”
“Good here too. Nobody new, but me and the Mrs. are doing well. Keep on keepin’ on, that’s what I say.” Gordon’s voice grew serious. “I don’t think anybody new will be coming around here. Last I heard there isn’t anybody new left.” He sighed. “Looks like it’s going to b
e just us.”
Connor paused. “Hang in there, Gordon. I’ll talk to you soon. Over and out.”
“Over and out.”
He addressed the rest of the group. “Gordon is from Maine, and keeps me informed on what’s happening on the East Coast. I do the same for him. That way, even while we’re here, we will know what’s coming, and what we need to be aware of.” He waved it in the air. “Extra safety precaution.” Chuckling, he said, “Another precaution is that I am the only one who has this. So if you want to try to do anything stupid like tell people where we are because you find yourself with a case of the bleeding hearts, you’re going to have to take it from me. And you all saw how well the gun situation turned out.”
No one seemed to protest.
***
As they left the barn, Connor wondered if any of them appreciated the magnitude of what they had built there, or if they were just happy they knew where their next meal was coming from. He whispered to Kate, “None of them have even paid us a compliment, or said thank you.”
“Maybe if you hadn’t scared them all half to death last night, they would.” Kate had venom in her voice that Connor wasn’t used to, and it stung him to the core. But it was gone as soon as it came, brushed back under her normal sweet and careful tone. “I’m sorry sweetheart. I’m sure they will thank you, it just might take some time.”
He put his arm around her. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought her shoulders went rigid at his touch. “Thank you, honey. I’m sure you’re right.”
They headed back to the house, and Connor could almost breathe in the triumph he felt over his enemies, though they would serve whatever purpose he saw fit. Despite letting them inside his home, they would still only be just that, and one day, they would apologize for the pain they caused his family. Of that, he was sure.
CHAPTER EIGHT
POE
Poe awoke in the middle of the night with a throat as dry as burnt toast. She tried to swallow, but it didn’t help much, the saliva in her mouth not quenching it as much as tickling it. The moon shone through her window, and the 3:00 a.m. hour seemed almost peaceful, until she rolled over and saw the gun cabinet next to her bed, hovering there as if keeping watch. When her father had first installed it in her room, she used to wake up in the middle of the night and, for a split second, see the black shadow standing there and think that someone had broken in to attack her, or worse. As she awoke, she would realize there was no danger, but not until after she had already broken out into a cold sweat. But as the years passed, she had grown used to it, and it lingered there like an old rocking chair. It reminded her not to let her guard down, that there was a group of strangers asleep downstairs that she had never met before today.
Except for one.
She wondered if the woman she now knew was called Blake recognized her. She hadn’t thought so at first, but she realized that in the commotion which had spread like a fog over the afternoon, she couldn’t be sure. Had Blake looked at her with knowing eyes? Did it even matter? She wasn’t certain, but there was one thing she did know: she desperately needed a glass of water.
Instead of going to the bathroom right across the hall to get it, she opted to go downstairs to the kitchen. She could check in on the new people in the meantime: her father would be proud of her initiative. If they weren’t sleeping in shifts like he had told them to, she would need to inform him in the morning. With her soft slippers covering her feet, she made her way into the hall and to the stairwell, careful to not step on the loud spots in the wood. Something as simple as a creak in the floorboards could give her away in an instant. Her father always taught her to know her surroundings, down to every grain in the floor. That would give her an advantage over any intruder: they would not hear her coming until her knife was at their throat and their blood was already spilt.
When she rounded the corner, she saw Darius Melone keeping watch as instructed. Something crept insider her like relief, but she wasn’t sure why. She had no obligation to protect anyone but her family. Telling her father if they disobeyed should have been second nature, as natural as breathing. The people sleeping in front of her were only as valuable as their skills and their ability to adapt. If they lost one of those crucial ingredients, they would have to be dealt with, or everything that her family had worked for would be lost. There would have to be consequences, and if her father had his way, they would be swift.
There was no movement in the room, except for Blake, whose sleeping bag was right on the edge of the living room and the kitchen. She was tossing around inside it, flipping her gray, worn pillow from side to side, desperate to find a comfortable position. Her father hadn’t bought them new pillows. Poe guessed that was probably part of their punishment.
It was a wonder how she didn’t wake up everyone in the room, and after the day they had, it was a wonder anyone in the house slept at all. At first, Poe pretended not to notice, busying herself in the refrigerator even though the water pitcher was toward the front.
She told herself she didn’t feel an ounce of pity for any of them. Her family had opened their doors, and would now give them the means to survive in a dying world. But Blake…Blake was different. Blake had saved her that day so many years ago, and her humanity should earn her more comfort than the rest. She had proven herself, and should be rewarded for being better. There had to still be some justice for good behavior in the world, otherwise, there didn’t seem to be much point. “Can’t sleep?” Poe whispered from behind the fridge.
As she closed the door, Blake answered. The jars and bottles jingled. “Trying to. Not having any luck.” She glanced over at Jackson, who lay quiet and still, as if he was asleep in his own bed at what used to be their home. “If he could just bottle up a bit of that and give it to me that would be great.” A sigh escaped her. “That kid could sleep through a train running through the house, I swear.”
The words escaped Poe’s mouth before her brain could catch them and tie them back up again. “Do you want to bring your sleeping bag up to my room? It’s probably less noisy up there without so many people breathing hard and snoring. Plus this floor creaks a lot. It can sometime lurch from a sneeze.” Poe looked at Jackson. “He can come too.” She heard her father’s words in her head, telling her not to trust even the gentlest stranger. He would always remind her that rabbits are gentle too…until they bite. But she reasoned that she wasn’t sending Blake away from the group on her own. Poe would be there, so even if she was wrong about her, she’d see it right away. Better to know right away rather than later.
“You sure? I’d really appreciate it.”
Poe nodded. “Hand me your sleeping bags, and you can carry him.”
As quietly as she could, Blake slid out of hers and carefully rolled it up so it could be carried easily. Darius gave them a quizzical glance then turned back to his post. “Thank you.” It occurred to Poe that she liked Darius’s quiet nature, and that he would most likely be the least trouble out of all the strangers they had let inside.
As they reached the base of the stairs, Poe warned, “Follow my footsteps exactly, or Dad will catch us.”
“But—”
“Trust me, okay? Exactly.”
Blake nodded and fell in behind her. Poe hoped Blake didn’t notice that she held her breath as they passed by her parents’ door.
Once their sleeping bags were laid out, Blake crawled in and stared up at the ceiling. Jackson curled himself up into a ball, and pulled the edge of the bag so far up that Poe could barely see the top of his eyelids. His lashes fluttered against the fabric. “He’s adorable. How old?” Her father had asked during the introductions when they had first arrived, but Poe wasn’t exactly adept at making casual conversation, and spit out the first question that popped into her head.
“Four. And thanks.” There was a mother’s smile in her voice.
For a moment, the girls just laid there, staring into the nothingness of the night. Just as Poe thought Blake had fallen aslee
p, she said, “Those kids who picked on you that day? A few years later they got thrown in juvie for stealing a car and wrecking it. They were drunk I guess. I think they moved away or something after that.”
Poe smiled even though Blake couldn’t see her. “You do remember.” Despite the awful reason they had met, she felt warmth inside herself. It was a special thing to be remembered by someone who had crossed your path for mere minutes.
“Yep. They definitely got what’s coming to them. Thought you’d want to know.”
Poe leaned over the edge of her bed and looked at Blake. “Thanks. For back then.”
“Absolutely. Too many people stand around and do nothing. I never want to be one of those people.” She looked at her son. “And I never want him to be either.”
The silence between them was now a comfortable one, like that shared with a long lost friend, the kind that remembers you when you wore braids and drew pictures when you were supposed to be doing homework. And despite only passing through each other’s lives for a few brief minutes, maybe that was exactly what they were.
But moments later, Poe’s stomach turned. At first, she had wanted to keep the fact that she had known Blake from before a secret, but she then started to wonder if that was the right call. But it had been over twenty-four hours, and she was afraid the time window had passed where she could have told him without him being upset with her. She rolled back over to look at Blake. “Don’t tell my dad, okay?”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, I just…I think it will bother him. I can’t explain it. We’ll pretend we just met, okay?”
“Are you frightened of your father?”
The Ocean in the Fire Page 10
