First New Year's After the Apocalypse

by Jessica Payseur

  “So we’ll just cook a whole turkey,” he’d said, and watched Jaxxon roll his eyes. “We’ll eat the extra corn that no one knows what to do with, crack a few black walnuts, and have a whole turkey.”

  “I’m not shooting a turkey for that,” said Jaxxon. “And you have fun cracking those black walnuts.”

  “We’re alive. Isn’t that something to celebrate?”

  “Not going into winter, it’s not,” said Jaxxon, checking his phone. Wade knew he still hoped for that one call that would reveal Maddy was alive and well and wanting to come home. But that call never came.

  “Look, Jaxx,” said Wade, moving to sit next to him on the couch. He put a hand on Jaxxon’s thigh, gave a little squeeze. “I think it would be good to celebrate a little. For everyone. Appreciate what we have instead of dwell on the past.”

  “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” said Jaxxon, shoving Wade’s hand away. “My daughter’s out there somewhere, alone and scared, and you’re telling me I’m dwelling. You bastard.”

  Wade winced. Jaxxon stood up and turned a glare on Wade, daring him to continue. Wade sighed, deflated on the couch. Sometimes he wished Jaxxon would just get it over with and cry, let it all out so he could move on.

  “Come on,” he said, unable to glare back at Jaxxon. “You don’t think she’s alive or you’d be looking for her now.”

  Jaxxon went completely pale, too shaken to even argue, and Wade felt like shit. He swallowed.

  “I’m saying we could all use something to get our minds off everything, and a Thanksgiving meal’s good for that. Talk about what we’ve accomplished despite the Apocalypse. Encourage each other. Give ourselves a little hope.”

  Wade watched as Jaxxon snapped out of whatever numb state he’d been in.

  “Fuck your hope,” he said, and slammed the door behind him when he went out to the barn.

  BY MORNING Wade knew he had to get food. He was weak and shaking, and after having run from the cop he wasn’t entirely sure where he was any longer. He wandered down a few streets, looking for a café where he could buy a sandwich and ask for directions. Everything was water damaged here, some deserted buildings stained or growing things Wade didn’t want to think too much about. He was getting close to the sea, the new shoreline. People were going to start telling him he would run out of Florida.

  He took a seat at an outdoor table at a café that looked fairly well kept up, considering the circumstances. An assortment of other people were hanging around, playing cards or eating. A young white man in his early twenties approached him with a wary look and Wade realized he stood out as not a local.

  “Hey,” he said. “Got anything to eat?”

  “Got cash?”

  Wade nodded slightly, unsure how concerned he should be. A few of the card players had stopped and were watching him. He thought of the knife at the bottom of his belongings, at how useless it was to him there.

  “You want everything eggs or half-everything eggs?” asked the man. Everything eggs, Wade had learned while traveling, were common as hell and consisted of everything edible a person had cooked up in eggs. He moved to pull out Maddy’s picture.

  “Everything. You seen this girl?”

  The man squinted at the picture a moment, then turned and walked back into the café. Wade slouched back, disappointed, but then he wasn’t surprised. In the hellscape leftover from the Apocalypse, who really was going to notice an eleven-year-old little girl?

  “Let me see,” said one of the card players, and Wade, mildly surprised by their offer, handed the picture over so they could pass it around. Heads were shaken and Wade received the picture back.

  “Thanks,” he said, trying to relax a little, trying to not worry. He was running out of Florida. And how thoroughly was he able to look, anyway? He was one man. He’d never even met Maddy before. Wade swallowed, tried not to think about how futile this entire thing was, how he’d thrown away the longest relationship he’d ever had because of a Christmas argument.

  It would have blown over. It had to have blown over. But if Jaxxon had been uncomfortable celebrating Thanksgiving, he was pissed at even the mention of doing anything for Christmas. Wade had tried. Sleet falling from the dark sky one early December night, Wade had broached the subject.

  “What about a turkey for Christmas?” he asked. Jaxxon was on the couch, reading a book from the library he’d picked up after bringing his deer meat to the farmers’ market. The old librarian still donated her time and spent long hours in the building, trying to make it run as smoothly as possible now that electronic entertainment was harder to come by.

  “No,” said Jaxxon, voice so hard and low that Wade should have left it there. Instead he pulled on another sweater and brought Jaxxon a blanket. Waiting for the heat to kick on was never fun.

  “Thanksgiving was a minor holiday, yeah, but some cheer in the middle of all this slush and shit would do us some good.” He paused, offered a bitter grin. “We’ll open a bottle of mead and you’ll loosen up enough to have a good fuck with me again.”

  “Sold it,” said Jaxxon, turning the page of his book.

  “What, all of it?” asked Wade, thinking of his new batch. He’d wanted to save it for a special occasion; he’d come into a few cranberries and had added them to the fermentation. He’d hidden a bottle in case Jaxxon did just this, but he was dismayed nevertheless.

  “Yeah. Got a good price for something a little more unusual.”

  “I should be pissed at you,” said Wade, shoving Jaxxon’s feet over and sitting down.

  “You sound pissed already,” said Jaxxon. “The money’s more use to us anyway.”

  “Yeah, except that was your Christmas present.” Wade was now seriously considering withholding the bottle he’d saved. It would serve Jaxxon right. But he only seemed peeved with that. Wade watched him frown behind his book, then stick a piece of paper as a placeholder in it and set it on the floor.

  “I’m not getting you anything.”

  For some reason, that stung. Wade had the immediate urge to lash out.

  “Of course not. You’re the most selfish person I know.” When Jaxxon blinked at that, surprised, Wade kept going. “I’ve been patient with you for months, Jaxx, and time and again you shit on me. I don’t care that you don’t want to celebrate. I do. And that should be good enough for you.”

  “What are you, a kid?” asked Jaxxon, glaring now. “How can you care about holidays in this hellscape?”

  “What else do we have but each other?” All Wade’s muscles were so tense that he was sure he was about to start shaking. He didn’t understand why he was being so emotional about this. But he wanted to be far closer to Jaxxon than he’d been allowed to get, and it was beginning to wear on him.

  Jaxxon snorted.

  “You know,” said Wade, “you wanting something has always been enough for me.”

  “You’re asking me to pretend everything over the last year never happened,” said Jaxxon, and that stung most of all. Wade stood.

  “Me included?” he asked. “I’m not asking you to throw your life away. I’m asking you to be happy to be with me.”

  In the silence between them Wade could hear the heat finally kicking on. After what had to be forever, Jaxxon’s face softened slightly and he looked away. Wade knew it was never good when he couldn’t make eye contact.

  “That’s not going to happen,” said Jaxxon.

  THE WAITER must have also been the chef. He returned with a plate full of eggs and set them down on the table before wiping his hands with the rag he’d used to hold the warm ceramic. Wade could see bits of bell pepper and onion in the mix and smell fish and garlic. He definitely had been given everything.

  “Show me the picture again,” the man said as Wade took a bite. He’d had worse everything eggs before. The waiter stared at the picture again when Wade shoved it at him.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “Nice girl,” said the waiter, and Wade’s temp
er flared.

  “That’s my daughter,” he said, the first thing that came to his lips. He wondered at what point Maddy had become that—more than just Jaxxon’s kid. The waiter let the photo fall to the table and shrugged.

  “Didn’t mean anything by it. I think she’s a neighbor kid. I seen her around, is all. Nice girl.”

  Wade stopped midchew, processing.

  “You’ve seen Maddy?” he asked.

  “Finish your eggs and I’ll take you over,” said the waiter. “It’s only a few blocks away.”

  Wade had never eaten so fast in his life, though he suddenly felt on the verge of vomiting. His mind raced so fast it nearly went numb. The waiter left him alone to his thoughts and instead wandered over to the card players, who apparently were regulars, to ask them to keep an eye on the café while he was away.

  Maddy could still be alive. Wade hadn’t really believed it, but then had found himself hoping more and more as the days went by that it would be case. Against all logic he wanted it to be the case. And now…. He tried to tell himself to slow down eating or he really would be sick. He told himself to stay calm because nerves wouldn’t help, and it was possible the kid the waiter thought was Maddy wasn’t even. But all too fast he found himself paying the man for the meal, tipping generously, and then following him down the hot, crumbling streets. His mind raced, taking him back to the night he decided to leave.

  Jaxxon’s words had stung so deeply that it had been Wade who left, Wade who ran out through the freezing sleet, Wade who took refuge in the barn. He shut the door against the storm and glared around the place, hulking shadows of old machinery, pieces of wood, and strung-up meat looming above and around him. Wade slid, back to the door, to the cold, wet ground, buried his face in his hands, and held back tears.

  The words had struck him deep. Jaxxon not being happy with him meant Jaxxon did not love him. And Wade couldn’t remember when he had ever needed love and companionship more than now, when the world was going to hell, in the aftermath of the Apocalypse with no certainty in the coming days. He wanted an equal, a partner, a life love. He wanted Jaxxon.

  And Jaxxon didn’t want him.

  He was so hung up on what and who he lost that he couldn’t move on. There were times when he could be so loving, so caring to Wade, and yet… Wade wished Jaxxon was inside their now-heated house, feeling guilty, but he’d probably pushed that aside in favor of reading his book. Wade took a breath. Well, he wasn’t going to give Jaxxon the satisfaction of watching him limp inside, wet and glum and freezing, and he wasn’t going to give Jaxxon an apology.

  What he was going to do was fix this. Wade knew somewhere inside Jaxxon wanted to be with him—his actions spoke that, hell, his words even did now and then. Wade had to find a way to help Jaxxon grieve and let go, look ahead for a change. And the only way he could think to do that was to find closure about Maddy.

  Wade turned it around and around in his head for hours. Calling down to Florida didn’t work. They couldn’t both leave the house—it was in good condition and it would definitely be occupied when they returned. Besides that, Wade didn’t think Jaxxon was in a state of mind to go anywhere in search of his daughter. He’d do something stupid and get himself killed.

  No, by the time Jaxxon had shut off all the lights in the house and gone to bed, Wade had made up his mind. He was going to Florida by himself, and he was going to bring back closure for Jaxxon. And so after waiting until he knew Jaxxon would be asleep, Wade returned home, dug out Jaxxon’s stash of bills, packed a bag with portable food, grabbed a few bottles of water, and sneaked into the off-limits room for a picture of Maddy.

  And then he was off into the night, alone.

  SHE WAS walking along the street in dirty clothes. Wade recognized her right away, a year older than in the picture, but the same child. Even without the picture he would have known. She had Jaxxon’s eyes, nose. Seeing him in her made his heart lurch. He could do this. He could reunite a family, create a new one. It was what they all needed to move forward.

  Maddy looked up and her eyes caught the waiter, whom she obviously knew, and then Wade, whom she stared blankly at. She didn’t recognize him—but why would she? They had never met. Wade would have to hope she could figure out who he was by his name. A little eleven-year-old girl. Since when did they start looking like they had the weight of the world tangled in their hair?

  “What?” asked Maddy when she realized they were here for her. The same confrontation as Jaxxon. A little of something else Wade couldn’t place. As much as she reminded him of the man he left behind, Maddy was her own person.

  “Your dad’s here,” said the waiter, and Wade tried not to panic. He had to be looking suspicious if presumably his own child didn’t recognize him. He took a few jerky steps forward like he didn’t know how to react after all this time, and decided to drop his name.

  “It’s Wade,” he said. “I can’t believe I found you.”

  To her credit, Maddy was the coolest child Wade had ever met. She stared at him with her own kind of wide-eyed disbelief, playing along though she clearly had no clue who he was.

  “Mom’s dead,” she said. Wade swallowed.

  “I know,” he said quietly. The waiter shuffled on his feet as though uncomfortable.

  “I don’t want to get in the middle of this,” he said, apparently convinced enough Wade had been telling the truth. That or he didn’t much care what happened to Maddy. Wade had noticed that while a lot of people had really pulled together to look out for each other after the Apocalypse, not everyone had.

  Both he and Maddy waited for the man to leave.

  “Who are you?” she asked when they were alone. “What do you want?”

  She stayed out of reach, her posture tense like she was ready to run if Wade made any sudden movements. A jolt of sadness struck him. Maddy was already hardened in just a few short months. He didn’t want to know everything she’d been through, had to deal with. A hurricane. Having to look out for herself.

  Wade sank to the ground, took his bag off, and swung it around in front of him like a barrier. The water bottles tied to the outside clinked together and Maddy’s eyes were drawn to them. Wade hoped he was making her feel comfortable. He kept his hands where she could see them.

  “I’m Wade,” he said. “Your dad’s boyfriend.”

  “He doesn’t have a boyfriend,” said Maddy immediately, but she was eyeing the water bottles again. “He doesn’t have anyone.”

  Wade didn’t know what to say. If Maddy didn’t know who he was, he had no idea how to convince her to come back to Wisconsin with him.

  “Nobody told you about me?” he asked. All those hours Jaxxon had spent on the phone and he’d never once mentioned Wade. That was like another knife in Wade’s heart. He hadn’t been important enough to share. Maybe when this was all over he should try to move on after all. Maybe Jaxxon was just not capable of loving him.

  Maddy gave a stiff shrug.

  “Mom,” she said, then paused, rubbed at her nose, “said he was hiding his new girlfriend from her. Typical Dad, she said.”

  “He misses you a lot,” said Wade, then kicked himself. He shouldn’t be trying to emotionally manipulate a child. Maddy’s bottom lip trembled.

  “Did you kill him?” she asked, and Wade was so taken aback, so horrified this would be something she’d think, that he gaped at her.

  “No,” he said when he got his voice back. “I love him. I want to get you back to Wisconsin, back home. But I don’t know how you can trust me.”

  Maddy’s face hardened and something glinted in her eyes. For a second Wade saw Jaxxon in her again.

  “Prove it,” she said. “Prove he’s alive.”

  Wade was taken aback again. She didn’t doubt who he was, she didn’t doubt he knew who her father was—she doubted he was alive. This seemed strange to him.

  “Why… do you even believe who I am?” he asked before he could stop himself. This was probably not the way to deal wi
th a child. But then, Wade hadn’t had much experience with children. Maddy raised a hand and pointed to the water bottles on his bag.

  “I gave him the green one. I put the star stickers on it,” she said. “So you killed him, I guess, or are his boyfriend.”

  Wade went fumbling in his bag for his phone. At some point he’d stopped checking it; there hadn’t been any point. He pulled it out now only to find it had lost all charge. He couldn’t even try to call Jaxxon. Not that there was a guarantee Jaxxon would even pick up. Wade had left without saying anything and taken all of the money, and he doubted Jaxxon would be very inclined to talk to him after nearly two weeks without contact.

  “No charge,” he said, returning it, and looked up. “I’m sorry, Maddy. I guess I don’t have any way of proving I didn’t kill him. It’s up to you if you want to trust me or not.”

  He sat there, waiting, as an eleven-year-old decided the entire futures of three people.

  THEY HITCHHIKED out of Florida and through Georgia, Wade barely believing this was happening, that he’d found Maddy alive and mostly well, and they were on their way back. They wouldn’t make Wisconsin by Christmas, he didn’t think, but maybe by New Year’s, if they were lucky.

  Maddy had few belongings. She didn’t explain anything about the hurricane or how she’d been living since then, but after she had nodded, decided she wanted to go back to Wisconsin with Wade, she’d led him to where she’d been sleeping in an alley and unearthed her possessions. A recycled half-gallon jug that used to hold milk now full of water. A box of crackers and a packet of salsa seasoning. A kid backpack with a couple of dirty changes of clothes, a couple of books, and a few other odds and ends, nothing particularly useful.

  They had walked quietly to the road. Wade was very careful not to get too close, to let Maddy come to him, but she seemed content to keep her distance, and she seemed content to stay quiet as the miles rolled by outside the car. So like Jaxxon in that. He didn’t push her, didn’t try to get her to talk. At night she would read one of her books and then say good night, and Wade would try not to spend hours staring sadly at her. To be a child here, now, after the Apocalypse, seemed the worst.