Good Fences

by Boyd Craven III

  “Ouch! Are you trying to cut me open more?” I griped as she ripped the tape off holding the gauze pad in place.

  “Don’t be such a baby,” she snapped back.

  “Yesterday you wanted me to get stitches, how is that being a baby?”

  “Told you so,” Brenda said to Randy.

  “Told him what?” I asked.

  “That it wouldn’t be long and you two would be acting like an old married couple. You’re both in the five to ten years of marriage range. Give it another ten or so and you’ll be able to read each other’s minds without wanting to strangle them,” Brenda said.

  I flushed and I’m sure Lucy did too, but I couldn’t tell as she was sitting beside me, her hair obscuring her face as she worked on my right hand. She did, however, mutter some very un-lady like, un-Christian things that just made Brenda and Randy roar with laughter.

  “I think they’re drunk,” Ashlynn said, talking to Spencer.

  I lost it. I started laughing. The whole situation. The whole adrenaline dump, every fear I’d felt - and suddenly I had a room full of close friends. It really took an apocalypse to bring people together sometimes. Besides, I’d never seen that kind of snark from Lucy before, and I kind of liked it.

  “There,” she said, pulling the last strip of tape tight.

  I winced, it hurt.

  “You have plenty of triple antibiotic ointment, but it’s starting to look infected already. I looked around to make sure there wasn’t anything stuck in there and couldn’t find anything. I want to wash this out twice a day until we know for sure. Maybe keep the bandages off in a day or two and let it dry out?” Lucy told me.

  “Ok, boss,” I said.

  “Good one! See, he’s learning!” Randy said excitedly, swatting Brenda on the shoulder.

  “Oh, girl, you so have to train them up right… or they turn out like a big kid. I screwed up obviously,” Brenda told a very red-faced Lucy.

  “So, um… What was the score from the baseball game last night?” I asked them.

  “What baseball would that be?” Brenda asked.

  “Yeah, who was playing?” Randy interjected.

  “Whose TV would we have watched it on?” Lucy asked, poking me in the ribs.

  I almost jumped out of my chair. “Hey, there’s something I have to do today, for sure. My memory is terrible so I don’t want to forget, but I need to go to Mr. Matthews and check on him. He’s got a pacemaker and—“

  “Oh no,” Brenda said, “That’s your farmer buddy who has all the corn planted?”

  “Yeah,” I told her, “I just need to… if he needs help…”

  “I’ll go with you if Randy or Brenda will watch the kids,” Lucy said.

  “Ok, if that’s ok with you guys?” I asked my favorite neighbors and friends.

  “Yeah, sure. Just don’t get lost in the woods,” Randy dropped me a salacious wink.

  “Oh stop it Randy, don’t embarrass them.” Brenda nudged him.

  “C’mon Lucy, let me get you a .22 set up and we’ll head on down the trail.”

  “Are we taking the road?” She asked.

  “Naw, once we duck the fence, there’s a trail I found when I was a kid that connects our woods to his farm. It’s about a ten minute walk fence to fence.”

  “Ok, bye little man, Mommy has got to run out for a little bit. You’re going to play with the girls still, ok?”

  The 2 year old gave her a half a dismissive wave as he was spinning the white plastic wheel. He had twins who adored him playing, what else could be wrong in the world?

  “You see that?” Lucy asked me, “He gave me the little princess bye, bye wave.”

  “Too many cartoons,” I told her.

  She smacked my stomach lightly, “That’s your fault.”

  “Told you so,” Brenda said sweetly.

  We closed the door and started walking.

  * * *

  We were mostly silent during the walk over to Mr. Matthews’s farm. I showed Lucy where to duck the fence; you push through the brush and within about ten feet in you come across an old two wheeled track. Back when our farm was larger, or maybe under Mr. Matthews’ family, it was all one big property. I’d found the old road cutting through the woods as a kid and often went exploring down it. It was quiet and you instantly felt ten degrees cooler in the shade. The bad part was the bugs.

  I slapped at a lazy mosquito who’d found refuge in the shade and kept moving. Lucy kept pace easily enough, looking confident and comfortable with the .22 she was carrying. It was an old Marlin with a tube magazine. I had seventeen shells in there for it. If she couldn’t one-shot kill an attacker, she could spray lead everywhere and hopefully a few would find their target.

  “So, the Christian thing. Has it always been like this with you?” Lucy asked me.

  “It isn’t a thing,” I said feeling a little hurt, “It’s just my beliefs.”

  “Sorry, that didn’t come out like I wanted it to,” Lucy said and fell silent.

  I let my mind chew on her question a bit before asking one of my own, “Do you mean, did my faith and conviction grow bigger than it was previously?”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” she said.

  “Once my wife died, I went to church a lot more, got a lot more involved. For me, they really did save me and help me pull through one of the worst moments of my life. It was healing somehow. It didn’t really stop the pain of loss, but … you know what I mean?” I asked her, not knowing what else to say.

  Lucy put her free hand in mine and gave it a squeeze. My uninjured one.

  “I kind of feel like, after today, a lot of people are going to find religion; I know I suddenly don’t feel the same way I did yesterday, or even last week.”

  “You still put up with me,” I said, breaking the contact.

  “No, not you, not us. I mean… Things are suddenly different. That’s got to be a shock to people, especially people who weren’t preparing for something like this.”

  “Ahhh yeah, I got you. Hey, here we are.” We stopped walking as the trail opened up to a meadow of wild flowers.

  “Is that his house up there?” Lucy asked me.

  “Yeah, but let’s go slow, I don’t want to startle him if he’s...”

  “I know Brian, you don’t have to say it.”

  “Thanks.”

  * * *

  Mr. Matthews’s house was a single story ranch. It had been last remodeled sometime between the Civil War and World War II, if you believed the old man. There would be a cellar or Michigan basement if I remembered correctly from the handful of times I’d been there. I knocked and got no answer. I knocked louder, though there wasn’t usually anything wrong with the cranky old man’s hearing. Nothing.

  With dread, I opened the door and headed inside the house.

  “Hello?” I called out.

  Nothing.

  I walked in and found him face down on his kitchen table. It almost looked like he sat down to write something and just fell asleep. I walked up already knowing, but I had to check. No pulse and he was cold. I swallowed and stepped back. Lucy checked him as well, before bending over the table and picking up two keys that had been separated from a keyring and pulled a sheet of paper out from under his hand where it had been pinned.

  Dear Brian,

  I think it’s almost morning now, but sometime in the last day or two, my pacemaker died on me. Worst pain of my life and I think I’m building up for the big one. Two keys here are for the barn and my foot locker in the basement. You already know where the will is located and god willing you’ll….

  “He never finished writing it,” Lucy handed me the note with a grim expression on her face.

  I read it quickly, and went to grab the will from the credenza, choking back tears.

  “I have to bury him, but I don’t know…”

  “I’ll help you.”

  I found the tools in the shed out back, and we found a soft spot in his kitchen garden. I dug until my hand was
starting to bleed through the bandages and then Lucy took her turn. She was able to make it big and deep enough for me to get him in. I’d wrapped him in a clean bedsheet before lowering him into the ground. Filling in the hole went twice as fast, but quite a lot of time passed. We were both tired and more than ready to head back to the house. I was too exhausted to read through the will or check out the footlocker. I was running on empty.

  The walk back was quiet and when I got inside the cabin, the loud ruckus fell silent as they took a look at my face.

  “I’m going to hop in the shower,” I said, putting the note and the will on my bed.

  The shower didn't do what I really needed it to; I needed it to wash more than just the dirt and sweat of the day off. What I really wanted to do was wash away the guilt I felt. I’d known Mr. Matthews had a pacemaker, and I’d waited to go and visit him. The honest truth was because I thought he was already dead. I had no way of knowing if he’d survived the EMP, and he had died alone. If I would've known he was still there, I would've gone sooner, and maybe we could have helped him or at least made sure he hadn’t died alone

  By the time I left the bathroom, the kids were back to playing again and Lucy was reading a book, sitting on the couch. Both Brenda and Randy were sitting at the table in the kitchen, books in their hands, reading quietly.

  "Hey guys, you know what? I think we need to do something fun tonight. A lot of really sad stuff seems to have happened lately, and maybe it’ll be, you know, fun?"

  "What you got in mind?" Randy asked.

  "I don't know just yet, but I know things are going to get a lot worse before they get better," I told them.

  "So what can we do that would be fun? Maybe we could pick on Lucy and Brian some more?" Brenda snarked. “That was pretty fun, wasn't it?”

  “Please, no,” I said, throwing my hands up in the air.

  “Oh no, this could actually be pretty funny, don't knock it till you try it!” said Lucy.

  “Wait a minute, I thought it was pick on us, not pick on me!" I told them.

  “It is, it is," Randy said looking at his wife and laughing.

  "You know, I wouldn't count it as fun, but we could always go set up part of the security system tonight," Randy suggested.

  “Yeah, I know what you mean, but I don't think I have that in me,” I told Randy plopping down into the closest kitchen chair.

  “I know it doesn't sound like fun, but what I really want to do is to figure out some way of watching the property lines to make sure that Toby and Scott don't come back with anymore meatheads."

  “But we can just sit around, inside the house all the time. If we cannot can feel safe walking around outside within the farm then we need to do something about it. I really think it would be a good idea for every adult to go around armed and really think it would be a good idea for Lucy to learn shoot and shoot well. If there ever was a time to piss off your neighbors by firing off guns, think the time has finally come." Said Brenda, looking at me for a response.

  “Yeah," I said to them, "I'm really not liking the feeling either. I do wonder if there's something we could be doing to help the neighborhood, and the subdivision. I mean, how many of them rely on public services, water, sewage, or is there anyone we can help who’s on medication? I just feel like we should be doing a lot more than we are, but in reality, I know we don't have enough resources, and we don't have enough time.”

  See, that's the problem. You're going to run into an idealist, which isn’t a bad thing, but you said it yourself, you want to help everyone. It's physically impossible and the only thing you're going to do set yourself up for a ton of disappointment and heartbreak," Randy said.

  “You know, if we’re really going to go back and get our stuff tonight, some of us need to get some rest, because we’re going to be up till two or four in the morning trying to move our houses without the neighbors seeing us,” Randy told Brenda.

  “Going to bed early, that could be a lot of fun," I told them smiling.

  “It can be,” Randy waggled his eyebrows at me and Brenda slugged him in the shoulder.

  Lucy put Spencer on the floor, and came over to us, “What I have left in my house I’m not really worried about; if you want I can help you guys get everything of yours tonight and then in a couple days see how things are, then maybe you guys can help me get the stuff out of mine.”

  “Oh, for sure," Randy said, "We’re planning to help you regardless, but there's no reason not to get everything of importance out of there tonight, even if we stash it back by the fence and make a bunch of trips. You don't have to carry it all back here. We can get it loaded on the trailer and drive it in on the quad. If we time it just right, we might even be able to do it without waking a bunch of people. I mean, how many of you are woken up by the sound of cars? Right now it's an oddity, but your subconscious mind might not figure that out." Randy said.

  “That makes a lot of sense, but like what Brian was saying earlier, we don't want to advertise the fact that we’re going through the fence. We don't want to let everyone else think they can just go and do that too," said Lucy.

  "How about this? How about we make a big dinner and those that are going to get up early to go raid your own houses can sleep. You all go do what you gotta do and we can one be here for the kids. I don't know if you wanted me or Lucy or…" I let the words trail off, because this was their stuff, it was my place, but their kids.

  We talked it over and it was decided that, with me having a cut up hand, the other three would go instead. Lindsay and Ashlyn were fine with the idea, and Spencer was okay with it, because he was told he could come into my room and find me if he couldn’t find his Mommy and he was scared. He was pretty funny about that; he said he couldn't find his mom the night before, so he’d crawled up on top of me and gone to sleep, because I sound like a big bear snoring. Nothing was going to want to come around and eat a big bear, so he figured that that was as good a place as any. That had everyone laughing, much to my embarrassment.

  "But I don't snore!" I argued.

  "Yes, you do," they all chorused together.

  "You okay, I don't mind playing babysitter anyway. Besides, me and the little man here have a pineapple under the sea type of song to figure out."

  "Oh, who lives in a pineapple under the sea?" the twins started singing together.

  "I just can't win for losing can I?" I asked the group, who were all laughing at me.

  * * *

  We didn’t end up having fun, but at about 3am, everyone but the kids and I snuck out of the house. I barely woke up when they did, but they let me know when they left, so I got up and checked on everybody. The girls were in the upstairs bedroom and Spencer was snoring softly on his mother’s bed. Happy with that, I sat down in the recliner by the couch and tried to rest my eyes.

  Sleep always forces itself on you when you really need it, but I found that after the EMP, my sleep was light. That’s how I heard the floorboards pop and crackle under little feet, and I sat up. It was almost ready for sun-up, and by this time of year it had to be between five and six o’clock in the morning. Spencer was trying to work the handle to the bathroom, but somebody had shut it tight.

  “Hey man, give me a second,” I told him, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

  “Hurry, I got to go,” Spencer told me, hopping up and down and holding himself.

  I almost tripped and fell on my face as I got the door open. It wasn’t funny, but I’m glad the jokers from yesterday weren’t around to see that.

  “You have to stay by the door,” Spencer told me, without closing the door all the way.

  I had to hand it to the kid, he had some epic bladder control.

  “You there?” Spencer asked.

  “Yeah, still here.”

  “OK,” he said, “I’m done now, you can come in.”

  Not knowing what was expected, I cracked the door. He was trying to reach the sink by standing on the edge of the toilet.

  “I can’t… G
et it…”

  I gave him a boost and he sat on the counter, playing with the faucet handles before using about four times too much soap. It was really funny to my sleep and caffeine deprived mind, but I kept my amusement to myself. When we were done I carried him out to the kitchen while he finished drying his hands and arms on my shirt, before pulling himself close to my chest.

  “You still sleepy?” I asked him.

  “Uh huh,” he said.

  “Well, I’m going to get the coffee going and peek outside and see if there’s any progress. You want me to put you on the couch, the bed… What do you want little buddy?”

  “Couch, so I can watch SpongeBob.”

  “You can lay on the couch, but the TV’s broke.”

  “But… but… I’ve been good. I’m not a bad boy. I want some SpongeBob…” his breathing hitched and he was working himself up to a big sob.

  “Hey now, hey, hey. You guys are here because the power’s out. Remember?”

  “Yes?” Spencer said in a small voice.

  “Well, the TV runs on power. I’d let you watch SpongeBob if I could. We wouldn’t even tell your mom!” he looked up and wiped his face, “But I can’t because there’s no power. Sorry.”

  “Ok. Can I sit on the couch and we talk about SpongeBob?”

  “Yeah buddy, here you go,” I told him laying him down on the couch.

  I grabbed him the afghan and he wrapped it around himself, pulling the throw pillow close like a teddy bear. I hadn’t seen much in the way of toys since they’d been at the house and it made me think to look in the barn or the attic upstairs to see if any of my old stuff was in boxes still.

  I got the coffee going in the rising light, and had gotten the pan out for eggs when I heard the quad fire up. I had said I didn’t want to make tracks and risk things, but it’d been pointed out to me that I’d been all over that field with the tractors, so one more set of tracks wasn’t going to look like anything different than what I’d been doing the previous week.