“Have you ever seen Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow?” He asked.
“What?!” Clarissa replied, confused.
“That film with Sophia Loren. Did you ever see it?”
Clarissa said nothing for a moment while contemplating the man’s strange question. It was an odd thing to ask. It had been a while since Clarissa had seen any films, but she had seen that one. She made her reply: “She’s done better.”
The strange man laughed, then continued conversing, “I liked it myself. You remind me of her actually—Sophia Loren—appearance-wise at least. “
“La Ciociara is her best work. I learned a lot from it. Now unlock that door.” Clarissa demanded.
There were four large, sliding locks sealing the door. One by one, the man undid each lock and slowly opened the door. Vita and Maria stood anxiously a few paces beyond. The man stepped away from the door to give the girls a reassuring entry. The girls did not move to enter the house until their mother gave them the okay, which she soon did. Clarissa was still suspicious of the unchecked rooms, so she commanded her daughters to stay close to the exit and to remain vigilant until she and the house’s proprietor returned from their upstairs reconnaissance.
As Clarissa and the man started up the stairs, she noticed a bookcase against the wall just to the left of the staircase. It had dozens of books scattered amongst its shelves. She was once an avid reader; it had been a while since she had read any actual books. Perhaps a few of these could garner her interest, if she ever found a moment to read again. There were only three rooms upstairs: a sizable bathroom and two bedrooms. One bedroom was stocked with blankets, sheets, quilts, clothes, and other linens. The other had an abundance of different items, including: batteries (large and small); sealed five and six gallon buckets filled with fuel; half a dozen propane tanks, and a large supply of bottles and jugs of motor oil. On one side of the room, clear of all the other items, was another bookshelf. This one had no books on it, but it did have dozens of glass jars with a clear, water-like substance inside. Clarissa had a strong hunch that it was not water that these jars contained.
“What’s in these bottles?” She asked the man. “I’m assuming it’s not water.”
“No, not all of it anyway.” He replied. The man paused for a moment, knowing that Clarissa would not like the answer he was about to give, but he gave it to her anyway: “It’s hydrochloric acid.”
Clarissa found this revelation a little disturbing, and she made no attempts at hiding her distress as she continued to speak. “And why exactly do you have this?” She inquired bitterly. “Or do I not want to know the answer to that question?”
“It’s an effective weapon.” The man calmly replied.
“Effective is it? If you’re intending to kill someone very slowly and painfully then…”
“It’s not for humans.” The man interrupted. He looked back to Clarissa, looking her squarely in the eye. “There are things other than humans that you need to worry about, I’m sure you know that by now.” The man looked away from Clarissa and continued to speak. “It won’t burn through their scales, but if you get it close to their eyes it can make their lives a lot less pleasant – for a little while anyway.”
“Go.” Clarissa commanded while motioning towards the door with her shotgun. She knew what he was referring to, but discussing battle strategies against the Sayona seemed like a waste of her time. Avoiding them at all costs was the only effective strategy in her mind.
Vita and Maria were exactly where their mother had left them as she and the mystery man returned from upstairs. The living room itself had little in the way of possessions. Other than the bookshelf just under the stairs, only a rustic, old coffee table inhabited the living room space. There were also thin, yellowish curtains on the windows which were accompanied by the black, metallic bars bolted to the walls just above and below the windowsills. The front door remained open, which was the way Clarissa wanted it for the time being. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Maria spoke.
“Anything up there?” She asked her mother.
“A few interesting items,” her mother replied while eerily eyeing the man in front of her. “Still a few rooms we need to check down here.”
“I think you’ll like these rooms,” the man stated confidently. “It’s where I keep the fun stuff.”
Across from the stairs was the hallway with four doors. The man walked first followed by Clarissa and her gun; Vita and Maria joined in on this quest a few paces behind their mother. The first door on the left was a simple bathroom that was surprisingly well kept. Across from it, on the right side, was the first bedroom. The single window to this room was not only barred, but also sealed off with heavy boards, making the room too dark to see anything. The mystery man acquired an LED lantern sitting on a small table just inside the door. He switched it on and the room was lighted. In this room were various items, most of which consisted of home improvement equipment; mostly tools (standard and electric), as well as other appliances such as small heaters and a couple of generators.
“What’d you do? Loot a bunch of hardware stores for this crap?” Clarissa asked.
“All of them I could find.” The man answered. “Fear not, ladies; no one died in the process... not by my hand at least.”
The girls backed out of the room. Once they were at a comfortable distance, the man departed from the room as well, with the lantern still in hand. They continued on to the next set of doors. The man approached the one on the left first. This room, too, had its windows barred and boarded, but again the lantern provided sufficient light. The man entered, followed by Clarissa and then by her daughters.
“Whoa,” Vita voiced as she stepped to her mother’s side. This room was an armory; dozens of firearms lined the walls. It was mostly hunting rifles and shotguns of various calibers and gauges, with a few home defense weapons and some assault rifles thrown into the mix. There were handguns, as well, laid prudently along a small table against the wall across from the door. To the left were ammunitions, hundreds of boxes of bullets placed neatly on what was once an entertainment center. “Nice collection.” Vita added.
“Thanks, Ms. Vita; it does have its charm.” The man replied. “What’s mine is yours, ladies. Take anything you want.”
Clarissa refused to take anything just yet, as there was still one last room to check. After a few minutes more of gawping at the weapons cache, everyone moved on to the final room. Again, this room was boarded up solidly and had to be illuminated by way of the lantern. In this room the mystery man had stockpiled various forms of electronic devices, including: tablet computers, laptops, notebooks, portable media players, smart phones, smart glasses, smart TVs, OLED UHDTVs, mobile Bluetooth radios, laser projectors, holographic projectors, and other unique gadgets. The room was a haven for technology, though none of it seemed to have seen any recent use.
“What were you planning on using this junk for?” Clarissa inquired; it seemed to be a waste of space to her.
“I dunno,” the man replied. “Nostalgia mostly. Most of it won’t even work without some kind of network connectivity. Some of the things like the glasses, the tablets, and the phones have built-in GPSs. Our satellites are gone, so they’re not fully functional, but they can still provide a world-wide map if you happen to need one.”
Maria walked over and picked up a pair of the smart glasses off of a nearby desk. She looked them over for a moment and then placed them upon her face. She looked to the others and asked, “How do I look?”
“Like a flashy, yet classy, post-apocalyptic hipster.” Her sister answered.
“Exactly what I was going for!” Maria reached up to remove the glasses. When she did she inadvertently stroked the touchpad on the right side of the frame. To her surprise, the small display turned on. Maria placed the glasses back onto her face then swiped her finger along the touchpad to cycle through the different applications and interfaces. Some items like the news and weather apps were down, but she could sti
ll access saved content such as photos and videos.
“Does that thing still work?” Vita inquired.
“I think it still does.” Maria answered, still messing with the device.
“I do recharge some of these things every so often.” The man spoke and then pointed towards the nearby desk. “These things here I like to keep juiced just in case I need them for… whatever purpose.”
“How do you charge them?” Maria asked.
“Generators, car-batteries, cars, solar panels,” he replied. “If I need a quick power surge there are ways I can get one.”
“Thus, the information age lives on, sort of,” Vita prophesized. “Though it’s pretty crazy how fast we adapted, or readapted, when the lights went out.”
“Not everyone did.” Clarissa noted.
“Some died and some thrived,” the man added. “Remember when people were worried about the twenty thirty-eight bug? Much simpler times… heh, I was really looking forward to seeing how that turned out, too.”
“Nothing would’ve happened,” stated Clarissa.
“Probably not, but over-hyped, doomsday, conspiracy theories are always fun,” the man concurred. Until they come true.
“We didn’t have a lot of tech stuff.” Maria chimed in, taking a moment away from the glasses. “Our dad was into all the gadgets and computer jumble, but mama hated it.”
“That’s true.” Vita agreed with a titter. “We’d be riding the MFL and everybody on the train would be texting on their phones or playing on their tablets, except for us – we three dorks would be reading actual books.”
“Yeah, I would’ve been one of those nitwits on the train with their nose stuck in a phone, or a tablet, or an e-reader,” the man replied. “Never left home without at least one of ‘em. It’s funny though, I had over three-hundred books on my reader; I mean, that is what I bought it for – to read books. But rarely did I ever actually use it for that intended purpose. It was too easy to get distracted; I’d end up on some message board or watching some dumb video. I’ve read more books this past year without any electronics then I did in the previous ten years with them.”
“It’s hard to find books out on the road.” Vita spoke while hiking the hefty M14 higher up onto her shoulder. “What we do find are usually just lame, wannabe, sci-fi–horror stories or stupid romance novels whose pages I’m hesitant to even wipe my butt with.”
“Vita…” Clarissa voiced in a reprimanding tone.
“Sorry, mama.”
“That’s a pretty good metaphor actually,” the man acknowledged. “There’s a library in town here and it’s not in half-bad shape. I could show you where it is.”
“I know where it is,” Clarissa replied. “Near the big inn by the river. I saw it on the way into town.” Clarissa was growing wary of the conversing going on between this man and her daughters. Even though her daughters were mindful and cleaver, they also warmed to people very quickly. Vita and Maria were garrulous and gregarious by nature (traits not inherited from their mother) and this strange man’s odd charm, coupled with the role left vacant in the absence of the girls’ father, left Clarissa suspicious of her daughters’ prudence and the precautions they might fail to relate to the current situation. Whether or not this man was dangerous, Clarissa honestly had not the slightest idea. His tone, his eyes, and his mannerisms seemed genuine, but the lack of concern he expressed in his own wellbeing and this ample stockpile of possessions he seemed all too willing to hand over, left Clarissa apprehensive in trusting him with her children. She soon ordered a command to all of them: “Let’s go.”
“Can I bring these?” Maria asked concerning the glasses.
Clarissa was about to reply with an ‘I don’t care’ answer until she realized that her daughter was posing the question to the man and not to her.
“They’re all yours, kid,” the man replied cordially.” Assuming that’s all right with your mother.”
Clarissa approved and they all exited from the room. Vita and Maria were first, followed by the man, and then by their mother. They returned to the living room. Once they were all there, Clarissa charged Maria with closing the front door. She did so, but not before going outside and retrieving the man’s overcoat and his small weapons cache. He thanked her for her kindness as she placed the guns and knives, wrapped in the coat, on the table across from the bookcase. She then closed and locked the door as she was originally directed. Vita was charged with locking the backdoor, to which she did dutifully. On her way back to the living room, she noticed the pantry door with the sliding lock. Vita opened it to see what was inside. She was expecting, and hoping, for a stockpile of wondrous foods; the man had said he’d stashed some here somewhere. There was no food in here, however, much to Vita’s disappointment. The contents of this pantry also intrigued her mother.
“What’s in there?” She asked her daughter.
“Um, flashlights, flares, lighters, matches, rags, towels, and whatever the hell this is.” Vita answered while reaching into the pantry and pulling out a carpet sweeper.
“It’s a sweeper,” Clarissa stated. “Like a vacuum that doesn’t require electricity.”
“Oh, well, I suppose that would be kinda handy these days.” Vita placed the sweeper back into the pantry, closed the door, and then looked beseechingly to the man standing in the living room just beyond her mother. Vita spoke to him, “I don’t mean to sound greedy or ungrateful or anything, but didn’t you say you had food here?”
“Yes ma’am, I did.” He replied. “There’s a room we haven’t checked yet.”
“Does this place have a basement or an attic?” Clarissa inquired. Based on the home’s layout it did not appear to have either.
“Nope.” The man answered. He then walked across the living room over to the bookcase just beneath the ascending stairs. He moved a few books over about half way up the shelves and then took a hold of something that sounded like a latch. Then, with a bit of effort, the man pulled the bookcase away from the wall in a door-like manner. A secret storeroom had been revealed. There were many items within: can goods of all different sorts; bags of wheat, rice, salt, sugar, beans, and powered milk; jars of jams, jellies, peanut butter, and honey; packaged soups and pastas; containers full of nuts and oats; and also an ample supply of bottled water. There were also buckets, boxes, and containers full of dehydrated and freeze-dried foods, such as fruits, vegetables, coffee, tea, and various baking mixes.
Clarissa and her daughters joined the man near the entrance to the storeroom. All three stood in awe at this wonderful sight. Maria was especially moved as one particular item within the storeroom grabbed her attention. It was a canister of some freeze-dried item. Maria stepped away from her mother and sister and grasped the mystery man by the arm. She pointed to the item she had been eyeing wantonly and then spoke.
“Please, does that can say what I think it says?” She urgently inquired. “Because it really looks like it says ‘blueberry cheesecake’ on it, and if it does I might have to fist fight you to the death for it.”
“Well, it does appear to say ‘blueberry cheesecake’ on it.” The man answered. “But how ‘bout I just give it to you, along with anything else in there you want, and then maybe that way you won’t have to brutally pound me into the afterlife.”
“Fair enough!” Maria promptly ran into the storeroom and retrieved her canister of freeze-dried, blueberry cheesecake.
Clarissa kept a close watch. She was not pleased with her daughter making physical contact with the stranger, even though this food cache was quite remarkable. If this man really kept his word and did give Clarissa and her daughters as much of this food as they could carry, then he would have saved her a great deal of strife and, subsequently, she would be deeply indebted to him. If he did not keep his word, Clarissa would simply kill him and take what she needed accordingly, but she did not anticipate this scenario playing out like that – despite a part of her really hoping that it would.
Maria soon left
the storeroom with the cheesecake canister in hand. After she had gone out, the mystery man stepped inside and retrieved a large, plastic bag from the floor sitting next to the entryway. The man unsealed the bag and the forthcoming aroma instantly struck the Hannigan clan like a shot to the face. It was a scent that they had neither smelled nor tasted in a long time: smoked meat.
“Elk meat,” the man stated. “Smoked it myself… hope none of you are vegetarians.” He took a fist-size chunk out for himself, then held the bag towards the girls in an offering gesture. Maria, suddenly distracted from her cheesecake, joined her sister in swiftly shooting a pleading look to their mother, who, too, was currently intoxicated by the aroma of the smoked elk. Clarissa took the bag from the man and allowed her daughters to take from it. Both girls snatched a handful of the fragrant elk and promptly placed it into their eager mouths.
“Goddamn, that is brilliant!” Vita proclaimed.
“I did this batch for flavor,” the man stated. “The longer you smoke it, the longer it lasts; which probably would’ve been the wiser way to go, but I got a weird urge last week to treat myself, so I went short and sweet instead. That doesn’t happen very often, but now I guess it makes more sense… maybe the gods haven’t abandoned us completely after all.” The man looked to Clarissa who was still holding the bag; she had not taken anything from it. “I have some fish, too, if you’d prefer that.” He spoke to her. “Or whatever else… please, take whatever you want.”
Clarissa made no verbal reply. The man knew she was hesitant to take anything from him, but he could also tell that it was not out of distrust, as she was willing to let her daughters accept some of his offerings. What was prevented her from accepting anything from him was something deeper; something more personal. He spoke again to try and further persuade her. “Not to sound arrogant or anything, but this is very good. I’m quite the maestro of the meats; a certified sirloin virtuoso of sorts; a connoisseur of all things carne, you could say. And again, I didn’t smoke it for longevity, so no reason to hold back.”
In the Aftermath: Burning of the Dawn Page 7
