A Gray Life: a novel

by Harvey, Red

  Before he cut it up, I saw what it looked like, and I really wish I hadn’t been so curious. At first, I saw a large beak (naturally thinking he’d killed a bird, extinct or not). Then, when I saw the rest, I saw that it wasn’t any kind of bird indigenous to these parts, or even this planet. Its body was almost like a dog’s body, except that the tail wasn’t a tail; it was a spike that looked venomous.

  Michael’s shin’s displayed two semi-deep slashes. Other than that, he was whistling as he gutted the animal here at home.

  Hmm.

  Home.

  Anyway, if he hadn’t needed to go around the front of the property for more wood, he never would have seen them. Later, Michael gave us a description of what happened, but it was loaded with holes. With my keen writer’s mind, I think I can fill in the gaps.

  While he stacked the wood, Michael probably realized, shoot, I need a lot more kindling for that fat hog, at least another tree’s worth. Axe in hand, he went to the front yard, where the trees were dry and came apart easily. The perfect tree was a hundred yards from the house, along with the wheelbarrow he had forgotten. Oh well, get it when I’m through, he thought.

  Swing! Chop! Swing! Chop! Swing---

  But there he must’ve stopped. Between chops, he was certain he had heard something. Hearing anything Outside was worth noting since there were no more animals to speak of. Either they had all been hunted into extinction, or they had been scared off by the other ‘animals’ in the area. As for the beasts, they were smart in the way that they only made noise when they were a few feet from their prey.

  A quick 360 and Michael saw that he was still alone. There were no stalkers waiting to pounce. Satisfied, he swung again---and again, he stopped. Now that he knew to listen, he heard it more clearly. It was coming from the gate. From where Michael was, he couldn’t see what was there, especially with the sunlight reflecting off of the metal bars.

  “Help!” Faint, but there.

  He dropped his axe and ran to the gate. The closer he got, the more he could make out the two shapes screaming for aid. One was tall, and the other was slight, a child’s height. Ten feet from the gate, he saw a woman with a young girl at her side.

  “Let us in sir, please.” The woman said.

  Her hair was stringy to match her dirty face. In another world, she might have been pretty, but here in this one, she looked haggard. Her young companion was dirty as well, but the perks of greater youth had left her looking less used up than the woman.

  Michael wanted to help them over the gate, but he knew better. They could be bait for a bigger trap, one with a greedy group of men behind it. So he stood there and didn’t answer.

  “Sir?” The woman understood his hesitation. “We’re not dangerous. It’s just me and my daughter.” Her thin arm drew the girl to her side.

  Without a word, Michael walked away and out of sight.

  “What? No! Come back!” But he didn’t come back. One minute. Two minutes. “God damnit!”

  Another minute. Both girls turned from the gate until they heard leaves crunching in their direction. They turned back around to see Michael there, setting a large piece of metal on the ground.

  “Had to get a ladder.” He said.

  What he didn’t say was that he had also gotten his shotgun from the shed. It was tucked into the back of his pants.

  “I’m gonna pass the ladder to you underneath the gate.”

  Using one foot, Michael slid the ladder towards the women underneath the bars of the gate. The older woman took it and set it against the gate.

  “Honey, you go first.”

  Even though her mother told her to go, the girl stood where she was with no intention of moving. She seemed catatonic.

  “Climb the ladder, sweetie. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Nope, she still wasn’t going. She shook her head no.

  Her mother sighed and gave Michael a look that said, kids never listen. She cupped one hand on the girl’s ear to whisper into it. Michael couldn’t hear much, but he caught “You better.” He didn’t know why, but when he heard that, he hand flew to the back of his waistband and settled on the shotgun. Until both women cleared the fence, he wouldn’t relax.

  After a few minutes and not a helping hand from Michael, they were over the gate. Both women stayed at the gate, probably knowing why one hand was behind Michael’s back.

  “Knock the ladder over, and pull it under the gate.” He said.

  The woman did as he said. Every few seconds, she peeked over her shoulder at him. Her daughter was a wax statue, not even staring his way. Once the ladder was back inside the perimeter, Michael gestured towards the house.

  “Ladies first.”

  They looked apprehensive at his invitation. Though he wasn’t about to lead them with a gun to their backs, he wasn’t going to turn his back on them either. When it became clear that they were to go first or not at all, the two women trekked up the hill to the house. Michael followed a few feet behind.

  His hand never left his gun.

  * * * *

  October 18th

  “Well, hello.” I heard Louise say.

  She was in the kitchen taking inventory of the remaining food while I was drying off in the bathroom nearest the den. Instead of Michael replying, I heard another female’s voice.

  “Hello.”

  Who in the world could it be? I tried hopping into my pants, but only succeeded in falling to the floor. My fall was loud and Louise called to me,

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah!” I yelled.

  Murmurs from the stranger followed my answer. Dressed and flustered, I hurried into the kitchen. What I saw when I got there were two women. They were dirty, tired, and scared, the three things we must have looked like after escaping The Basement. In the older woman’s eyes, there was fear and another emotion I didn’t know. Seeing the strange shift in her eyes made me feel uneasy.

  The second, shorter woman wasn’t a woman at all. She was a girl, but I couldn’t guess her true age as she stared at the floor.

  “Wow, how many people do you have here?” the woman asked Louise.

  “Me, Michael, and the boy.” Louise looked at our new arrivals. “Well, and now you two.”

  The woman smiled. Even through the dirt, her smile was pretty. That was, until she pulled her lips back to reveal a set of yellowed teeth. I recoiled as much from her ugly teeth as from the demeanor she emitted.

  To cover up the awkward moment, she said, “Hello. This is my daughter, True. And I’m Gloria.”

  Thankfully, she didn’t hold out her hand for me to shake because I wouldn’t have taken it. She could sense that, I think.

  I focused on her daughter. “Hi, True.”

  She ignored me as I had done to her mother.

  Louise glossed over the silence. “I’m sure you two ladies would like to clean up before joining us for dinner. I can take you to the bathroom and get you some clean clothes.”

  Pre-Hell Dimension, Louise’s hostess abilities would have been the norm. However, we live in a new world, a harsher world, and the two women took Louise’s words as if they were Gospel.

  “Bathroom? Clean clothes? Dinner?” For each question the woman asked of her, Louise gave a nod. “You have running water?”

  “Uh-huh. And electricity. Thanks to our solar-powered generator.” Louise showed off by switching on the kitchen light.

  Even the mute girl was impressed, and raised her head to stare at the light. With her face in view, I could see that she was beautiful. And not Ashley Heard beautiful or Jennifer Connolly beautiful (I had looked at the cover of the movie “Labyrinth” to find out the actress’s name) but freakin’ gorgeous. Her eyes were big and blue, the same as the swimming pool in daylight. Covered in dirt as she was, she was even more beautiful. No amount of mud could conceal her soft pink lips or perfect skin. The one flaw she had was her mop of tangled dark hair. It was out of place with the rest of her. True caught me staring at her and looke
d down at the floor again.

  “…Stay in the guest room.” Louise’s voice came through to me slowly.

  Gloria and True followed her out of the kitchen.

  I turned to Michael. “Where did they come from?”

  He shrugged.

  * * * *

  Still October 18th

  After a dinner of roasted bird/dog, Louise told True and I to excuse ourselves so all the adults could ‘talk’. True disappeared, but I hoped to catch up with her. However, the den was dark and empty when I got to it. In the interest of not seeming like a creep, I decided to let the girl be. Outright looking for her would appear strange at so early a juncture.

  I popped in a DVD (if you must know, it was Watchmen) and sat down on the couch. While the opening scenes rolled to the tune of “The Time’s They are a Changin’”, I heard other notes interrupting Dylan’s song. The tinkling sounds were coming from the sitting room. I got up and headed to the source of the melody.

  Dun Dun Dun.

  A piano. I’d forgotten there was a piano in the house. Sitting behind the black monstrosity was True. She had finally found something to do. The song she was playing wasn’t “Taps” either. Her song of choice was more complex than that. Some classical number I didn’t know the name of.

  Since her shower, True had become more beautiful. Her mop of hair was clean and combed. Mop isn’t the way I would describe her hair now; it’s a tumble of blonde ringlets. They look soft and I’m fascinated at the thought of twisting my finger around one of her curls. Goodness, do I have some sort of hair fetish? Wonder if there’s a formal term for something like that.

  Feeling bold, I sat on the piano bench alongside my newest crush. She didn’t acknowledge that I was there.

  “What song are you playing?” Plink, plink, plink.

  No answer.

  I was about to ask her another question. Thankfully, I was spared the further embarrassment of talking to myself because from the adjacent dining room, I heard Michael ask Gloria,

  “What’s your story?”

  “Well, a few months back, True and I went from a family of four to just two.”

  Louise: “I’m sorry.

  “It’s okay. We’ve all lost someone, but I suppose what your husband want to know is how that came about for True and me. How we came to be knocking on your front gate.”

  Michael cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, ma’am.”

  “Please, call me Gloria.” I envisioned her stained smile and cringed.

  I looked to see if True was listening as well, but she was getting up from the bench and walking away. Maybe she didn’t want to rehash bad memories. However, I wasn’t too proud to continue eavesdropping. I wanted to know their story as much as Michael did.

  Gloria clinked her silverware around on her plate and went on: “We had a nice apartment in the city, uptown you know.”

  “Yea, we can imagine.” Louise said, probably thinking back to her and Michael’s uptown lifestyle.

  “Well then, you know we couldn’t stay there after things turned…ugly.”

  Ugly, huh. That’s a good word for it as any.

  “We were able to get away in our summer home. It’s about a hundred miles from here. Everything was great, for a few days. One night, four men broke into our house. They killed my husband and fifteen-year-old son, Greg. True and I were lucky in the scheme of things; all they did was rape and beat us, and then they left. Once we’d recovered, we resolved to move on. Our home wasn’t secure, and those men or more men like them could have come later.

  For weeks, we were able to hide out in a nearby cottage. When we ran out of food, I told True we had leave. On our travels, we saw plenty of odd creatures and bad men. We kept out of sight. Looking for food and shelter, we dared to knock on every door we came across. Sometimes the houses were empty, and sometimes they weren’t. Some of the people inside were hospitable, while others would help us in exchange for…favors.”

  “Oh.” Michael said.

  “I never let them have True, but I did what I had to do for the both of us.”

  Louise said, “We’re not judging you, Gloria.”

  “Thanks” I could hear her fake smile from where I was. “Besides demons and vagrants, we found cannibals. We barely escaped with our skin from the house of one man who wanted to eat me, and keep True as his pet. He wasn’t the last crazy bastard we happened upon. We were on the run from yet another crazy when we saw your mailbox. Thank God for that, and thank God your husband was kind enough to let us into your home.” I heard Gloria’s voice thicken with tears.

  Being unable to see her performance, I thought that the tone of her story was just that; a story. One storyteller-can-spot-the-next sort of thing.

  * * * *

  24

  “Can you let me drive now? This is ridiculous.”

  They hadn’t stopped driving since they had left the hotel. Juniper’s arms and her back were getting sore from leaning over to steer. One look at Christopher’s mashed up eyes convinced her to curb her personal pain complaints. In the backseat, the dog was sleeping. Juniper envied the animal’s lack of worries.

  “I don’t want to stop until we’re out of the city.” Christopher said.

  “Okay, but don’t take the goddamn highway. Take the back roads.”

  “You’re the one steering, sweetheart.”

  “Right. Baby, your eyes…what are we gonna do?”

  “Let’s make it to the back roads first. Shouldn’t be much longer.”

  Only, it was much longer. While a few of the roads have been devoid of cars, the majority were packed with them.

  Numerous times, Juniper had to yell, “Brake!” or “Slow!”.

  Then she would steer the car around the hunks of metallic obstacles. Cars were one of the many things littering the roadways. Crumpled papers, diapers, and furniture decorated the sidewalks and streets. Clothes and food containers were strewn about too. It was as if people had panicked, thought ‘Fuck it’, and tossed all of their belongings from their car windows. There were bodies along the roadway as well, sometimes just body parts. An arm here. A leg over there. A severed head every-which-a-where!

  Juniper wished for more bullets.

  The ride got to be too depressing for Juniper. Part of it was her husband’s disfigurement, and part of it was the state of the city. When the way was clear, Juniper freed one hand, leaving her left hand to steer. Christopher heard her switch on the radio.

  “There hasn’t been a broadcast since the power went out.” Christopher reminded her.

  “I know. I’m checking anyway.”

  Juniper turned the dial. Static prevailed, until she heard whispers. She turned the dial to better receive a signal. Finally, she heard muttering. When she turned the sound up, a man’s voice could be clearly heard through the car’s speaker system.

  “What are they? What are they? God only knows. Huhuhuh. God; huhuhuh.” His laugh had a bubbling quality, but not in a cute way. It was devoid of joy, and borderline hysterical.

  “Jeanie and Mom are dead. Fucking ate them. I can’t, uh, I can’t, uh, can’t broadcast much longer. Generator’s runnin’ low. I’m sure you’ll miss me, loyal listeners. Huhuhuhuhuh.”

  Juniper reached over to switch off the radio. Distractions. Who needs ‘em, thought Juniper. Christopher didn’t say anything about the odd radio transmission. For another two hours, they drove. They passed many gas stations. Their gas tank was still three quarters full. Twenty minutes later, the road changed from brick to asphalt. They had made it out of the city.

  To keep them both from falling asleep, Juniper talked. She talked about their college days, and how they had loved each other even then. She reminded Christopher of their embarrassing stories, already recanted several times over the years. The enthusiasm Juniper felt for the stories blinded her to Christopher’s lack of response.

  He leaned back in the seat, relaxed except for his foot on the gas pedal. His breathing was a series of wheeze
s. Juniper had not heard the wheezing before.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, thinking, Dumb question.

  “I don’t think I can drive much longer.”

  “Brake then.”

  Christopher slowly eased his foot on the brake pedal. Juniper steered the car onto the shoulder of the road.

  She undid her seatbelt, talking to herself. “Gotta figure out how to move you without hurting you.”

  “No worries.” Christopher wheezed. “I’m done.”

  Juniper had been going around to the driver’s side door.

  As she surveyed the smooshed-in door, she asked, “What’d you say?”

  “I’m done.” Christopher repeated.

  For the first time, Juniper really looked at him. Glass bits were pocketed on his face, most prominently in his eyes. Blood had dried like war paint on his cheeks. His lids were particularly bad; glass had sewn his eyes shut, stabbing through the closed lids to decimate his sight forever. There was one piece of glass Juniper had not noticed from the passenger seat. It was about two inches long. And it was lodged into the side of Christopher’s neck, just below his ear. That explained the wheezing. He might have survived the blindness, but the shard in his neck was no bueno.

  “God damn it.” Juniper said.

  She couldn’t see straight through her tears. If Christopher hadn’t heard another car approaching, they both would have died.

  “You have to go. There’s a car coming.”

  Juniper’s tears were streaming down. “What? I don’t see---,” A blink later and she did see a car.

  The long straight road allowed her to see the vehicle moving towards them almost a few miles back.

  “Go, I’ll be fine.” Christopher lied.

  “You just said you’re done.”

  “We’ll both be done if you don’t hide.”

  Juniper squinted and sniffed. “Looks like a cop car. Maybe they can help us?”

  Christopher smiled his last smile. “Don’t be naïve. That’s my job.”

  Juniper didn’t return the smile. “I don’t…I can’t…”

  “Hide under the car. There’s no time.”