by J. D. Palmer
“Do you like any boys?” Beryl doesn’t respond. Evelyn starts talking about Jeremy again and I glance at Jimmy. He is so focused on this exchange, eyes unblinking, memorizing every detail to hold onto and replay again at a later date.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Evelyn says loudly in the way of the young who don’t yet know of eavesdropping. Beryl nods and Evelyn leans closer to the screen even though they are alone. “Daddy says that I am going to come out soon.” Evelyn’s lips purse together, an imitation of an adult deep in thought. “I think he is lying to me.” Beryl doesn’t do anything for a moment, then gives a shake of her head. Evelyn purses her lips and gives a very adult nod. “He cried the last time he was here. He is so sad.”
She goes and grabs a doll before returning to sit in front of the screen. “He says we just have to try to be better every day. Eventually we will become what we are meant to be.” She fingers her braid, “I will be a princess.”
Beryl’s shoulders hunch. I see one hand clench a fistful of her sweatshirt, twist it back and forth.
“You… are a princess already.”
Beryl speaks. Her voice quavers, unsure of itself, a dammed river that has sprung the tiniest of holes.
Evelyn smiles and nods, her hands darting around her hair to tuck away strays. “I think so too.” Beryl smiles and nods. Evelyn gets out a makeup kit and the two begin to put on blush, Beryl pointing a finger and moving it in a line. She doesn’t speak again. Jimmy touches my shoulder and we return to the front office.
He pours us more scotch and we sit and drink in silence. We drink and there is no way we can get drunk.
I wonder how hard it is for Beryl to see Evelyn locked up. I hadn’t realized what a distorted echo Evelyn must be for her. Two women sealed in a room by men proclaiming to love them. Locked up by men saying they will protect them. The only difference being one of the men is grounded in reality and the other was not. I wonder if Evelyn gives Beryl hope.
What will happen when she dies?
“You should leave.” I’m startled out of my reverie. I think that Jimmy means the office and I get up to go. He holds up a hand, waves me back down into my seat. “I think you should leave Camelot soon. Not because I want you to.” He shakes his head. “I thought I was here to save mankind.” He laughs a bitter laugh. “I don’t know how many of the men outside are worth saving. The moment they find out that the doctor doesn’t need your friend for more tests…” He spreads his hands. “I don’t think I can control them. And I don’t think Don wants to.”
“I don’t know if Beryl will want to leave. Not while Evelyn is alive.”
He is touched by the words even as he recognizes the attempt at sympathy. He still shakes his head. “Convince her. Leave tonight. I’ll clear a path for you.”
“What about the men who make sure she doesn’t leave the building?”
“I’ll lock her in her room, tell them that they deserve a night off. The code will be Evelyn.”
“Thank you.” It’s all I know to say. That this man, in the midst of grief, can still think of other people is a feat I do not think I could do.
I enter the dining hall and there is a lull in the noise. Heads turn to me and then to Theo. He is sitting at the edge of a bench, slightly removed from the rest of the men. A pariah in his own kingdom. He doesn’t look up or make any indication that he is aware of my presence. His swollen lips make an O shape as they blow on soup.
The dull roar of many conversations slowly comes back and Wing comes over and grabs me, a plate of food for me in his hand. We sit down and before I can take a bite he is already showing the tattoo he got on his forearm. A snarling wolf stands tall in the foreground, blood dripping from its teeth, surrounded by hazy figures of men with spears. “Do you like it?”
I shrug and he seems disappointed. “Why did you get it?”
His turn to shrug. “I don’t know. After yesterday I wanted a reminder.”
I don’t understand what he is talking about but I nod along and give him a smile. Steven and John come over to join us. They bring a few other men, mostly younger, the ones who see an alpha dethroned and are eager to make their faces known to the new king. I want nothing to do with them. They take my silence as the brooding of a man with more important things on his mind. On that they’re right.
Don issues out tasks for the next day. Wing volunteers for “shit pit” duty, a large smile and speaking in his usual buoyant manner. Don gives him a sour look. I must distance myself from him. Wing will be the one to pay when they find us gone. I cannot ask him to come with us, knowing he would in a heartbeat. He is safer here.
I eat quickly and put together a plate of food for Beryl. Wing wants to come with me and I have to snap at him before he gets the point. I thank him for volunteering to dig the next day and he skips off, happy again. I sigh inwardly as I watch him join a new table. He knows his place with his group and he is happy. He is young, and somehow he has cast aside the burden of witnessing so much death. If anyone makes it in this new world with mind and soul intact it will be someone like him.
Ben punches in the code while I stand with my back to the door. Chris lounges in a chair down the hall, one hand rubbing around a scabbed and bruised chin. He eyes the steaming plates of food in my hands.
“Didn’t bring any for us? Jesus.”
The door opens and Beryl greets me with a smile as I hustle inside, kicking the door shut behind me. A tapping and a click as they lock it behind me.
Beryl sticks her tongue out at the food I brought. She has taken her braid out and lets her hair hang long and loose. I tell her about Wing as she eats, how he follows me around and tries to help. I describe the tattoo and she rolls her eyes. I wait until she pushes her plate away before getting down to the serious stuff.
“We are leaving tonight.” She tenses, eyes scanning mine. I take a deep breath. “Jimmy told me that his daughter is not going to…” I trail off as she gets up and starts to pace. “Beryl. We can do nothing. There is nothing. And once Evelyn dies what do you think will happen with you? They will not let you leave.”
She has known these things, I’m not convincing her so much as reminding her. I see her mind working. Wondering. She might be hoping there is a way we can stay, that maybe these men aren’t monsters like Stuart. In a way that’s true. I don’t believe any one of them, alone, would hurt her. Or demean her. Or cage her.
I’m afraid the group of them will.
A knock on the door and I open it to reveal Jimmy and a very happy looking Chris and Ben. Chris tries to peek into the room as Jimmy informs me that visiting times are over for the night. He stands in front of Beryl as I walk past him towards the door.
"I hope you… I hope you sleep well."
He raises a hand in a brief wave before leading me out. He punches a code into the wall, heavy fingers taking extra time with each letter until there is the metallic clink as a lock is activated. Men clomp out after me and race for the clubhouse.
Chris catches up to me and loops an arm around my shoulders. I shrug it off and walk faster.
“Hey buddy, I’m just being friendly. Why ya gotta be so angry all the time?”
“I don’t feel like chatting,” I mutter, changing course to head towards my condo. He catches up to me and puts another hand on my shoulder, pulling me to a stop. He takes a dramatic step back as I wheel around.
“Fuck man, easy! I’m not trying to mess with ya.”
I open my arms. “Then what do you want?”
His face changes, the laughter fading from eyes that I have never seen serious.
“Was gonna try to get to know ya.”
I understand when someone wants to fight me. I can deal with that. I don’t have the brain for politics though. There’s a chance Chris is just being friendly. But there’s a calculation in his constant touching, his oily grin, that sets me on edge.
“Why?”
He shakes his head, “Was wondering that myself.”
He stil
l stands in front of me, eyes staring off towards the mountains. He has something else to say. I wait for him to spit it out.
"Tell Steven I'm sorry."
What?
"Tell him yourself."
He heaves a heavy sigh and finally looks me in the eyes.
"You're a fucking asshole, you know that?"
He walks off in a slow saunter that is most likely meant to convey a vast hurt. I stare after him. I wonder just how much of my distrust of people is real or imagined. It’s a shame if he was being genuine, I guess. But I don’t feel like an ass, even if I behaved as one. Had this conversation taken place a year ago I would have nodded along and did my best to make sure no one got upset. It feels good to respond as I feel, to ditch the social constraints of the past and cease pretending.
I wander around for a bit, ducking into a greenhouse to smell the fresh plants. I’m procrastinating. I need to get my stuff and part of me hopes that the brothers aren’t in the condo.
They both are. John is drawing up a report on the men and the amount of resources used versus those being allocated. Steven is reading. I didn't tell Wing that I was departing but I have to tell these two. I owe them that, even if I know what their answer will be.
It goes exactly as I thought it would. I tell them that we are leaving and that they are welcome to come with us. I tell them the reasons behind our departure, I even tell them about Evelyn and what Jimmy told me today. John immediately brings forth his shield of idealism.
“You can’t be serious. These men wouldn’t hurt Beryl. There is an order to things here, a structure. If one of them did something they would be punished.”
“Jimmy can’t control them. I don’t trust them.”
He changes tactics. “Look, Har, yes they are wild now. But they are looking for more survivors. We have power. It’s only a matter of time before people start showing up. There will be women. There will be hope. They’ll calm down.”
He gets excited as he talks. Persuasive. I bet he was a good lawyer.
“Think about it. There is electricity. It’s warm. We are planting. We are irrigating. This is where civilization gets rebuilt. This is the place where historians will say ‘mankind was saved.’”
I shake my head. “Even if that is true we both want to leave.”
He gets angry. “She is protected here. You are safe here. Unless you go out of your way to make enemies like you did with Theo.”
Steven tries to interrupt. “He didn’t try—”
John cuts over him. “Does she even want to go? Or is it just you? You would take her out into god knows what madness and risk her life?”
I don’t say a word. None would matter. Steven won’t leave his brother and John needs this. Order, stability, people. Without them he feels lost. Us leaving is questioning his judgment. Which is too bad. A friendship could be salvaged if he just wished us safe travels, even knowing we’d most likely never meet again.
I change into dark clothes and grab a small bag. We will have to move quickly, there’s no sense packing a lot. Not that there’s a lot to pack. I have no guns now. I take a canteen, a book, and a knife stolen from the kitchen.
I glance around the condo. Comfy chairs, a long wood table. Tiled floor and large windows that let in a lot of light. A bed seemingly made from a cloud.
I won’t miss this place at all.
When I reenter the common room I can tell that Steven and John have been having words. John is breathing heavily, anger and doubt flushing his face a deep red. Steven walks up and gives me a hug. He doesn’t say much other than to wish us well and to tell Beryl goodbye. He gives me the notebook from when we traveled as a group. The pages are heavy with ink, I hadn’t known that he had kept writing in it.
I walk to John and he holds out a hand. I force a hug on him. I’m relieved when he hugs me back.
“Neither of us is right or wrong here, John, we are just doing what we think needs to be done.”
He nods. Part of me is thankful that he put up a fight. He has to know how difficult it would be for me here, but he wants us to stay regardless. I grip him by the shoulders. “I don’t trust much anymore, I don’t know if I ever will. But I trust three people in the whole world. I hope you know that.”
I leave the condo and scan the park for anyone. It’s empty. I casually walk across. I think about the brothers, how close we were when we were on the road and how quickly they seemed to become strangers. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s lamentable. It’s like the friendships you make in grade school that gradually drifts apart as the years go by. You find new interests, new hobbies, discover new things about yourself and then you see your friend from a distance. It was inevitable.
Still sad.
I punch ‘EVELYN’ into the keypad and the door clicks. I press it open and move inside quickly, the feeling of doing something illicit making my heart beat faster.
Beryl is dressed in dark clothes as well, the familiar black sweatshirt drawn up around her. I go to grab her bag and see a note sitting next to it labeled “Evelyn.” I was worried she might want to wake her up to say goodbye.
I tell her the brothers won’t be coming with us and her mouth pulls to the side in a slow grimace. We both knew they wouldn’t, but it still sucks.
We take the back exit and skirt around the edge of the buildings until we get to the eastern side of the community. We can no longer see the lights from the clubhouse on the golf course, but someone has found music and the men are singing along to an old eighties song. I send a silent prayer for Jimmy’s daughter and for Jimmy himself. I hope Wing never despairs, never becomes as jaded as I am. I hope John is right about this place and its people.
We cut south first, down the street that runs parallel to Camelot until we hit Purdy Avenue. This will take us back out to the freeway but we are cautious. I don’t think we will run into anyone but it’s better to not take chances. We cross the road and out across sand. We are in the field of solar panels now. They are gargantuan, far bigger than they appear from the road. They are shaped like enormous troughs left out for some herd of mystic horses that has yet to return, standing on pillars twice as tall as a man. Each row is held together by a long pole with small hands that turn the panels so each face worships the sun as long as it is in the sky. They face upwards now, soaking in the small beams from the waxing moon. A faint glow permeates the air above so that I feel like I’m underwater staring up at the light of day while dark water swirls around us. Beryl and I walk through them, our shadows dancing beneath us as we pass through the ethereal light.
Behind us looms mountains already heavy with a mist that will come tumbling down into the desert with the morning sun, tendrils of fog that never reach the valley floor before they are burned away by the sun. The windmills in the distance form odd silhouettes in the dark, hundreds of them, some still slowly moving. I’m reminded of my talk with Jimmy. If civilization comes to an end what will the people who populate Earth think of these gigantic things in the years to come?
Ahead of us is inky darkness punctuated by stars and a swollen moon that illuminates the open road that will take me home. Us, home. Freedom or death, salvation or madness, who knows what lies ahead for us down this path. John’s last words echo back to me. Am I dooming her? Would I be able to part with her if we found a place in which she could be safe? I feel for her shoulder as we near the last solar panel. I pull her into a hug, slowly. She is tense, ill at ease with a touch that she has not prepared for, even from me. I hug her because I need a hug, not because I think she needs it. I feel like a statue made of paper mache. Outside I’m ready for this world. Inside I am empty.
She breaks the hug and looks up at me. “It’s okay,” she whispers.
The second set of words she has said to me are a balm to my heart. I hug her again, allowing myself this moment before we go back to surviving. Back to the road and caution and worry and hunger.
We cross the mile or so stretch of sand and hop onto the freeway. We need to cover
as much ground as possible before the sun comes up. Then we will hide.
We travel in silence, alone with our thoughts. I think of the men in the community behind us. I think I see people better now. Or maybe people have less to hide behind. It’s as if layers and layers of costumes have been discarded. There were hairstyles and clothing styles or one’s lack of style. There was social media and who you pretended to be or who you thought you were. And we were petty, so fucking petty before all of this. We didn’t have to fight for survival, fight for anything, so we made up reasons to be mad. We picketed on behalf of people we had never met while cursing at a neighbor who drives too fast down our street. We complained about people smoking cigarettes downwind of us. We made up allergies or hopped on diet fads so we could tell our friends how much we are suffering.
All of that’s gone now. The end of the world is truthful, I’ll give it that.
But what has replaced it? What drives us now? Survival, obviously. But what else? Are we immediately stripped down to animals? Are we manned by our basest instincts? No. If that was the case I’d have chewed an arm off and abandoned Beryl to her fate. It must be fear. Before death swept across the world we had faith that we would be remembered, or seen, or mourned. That we had a purpose. That’s all gone now, and those of us that are left are like ants without a queen. We scramble and clutch and find ways to pretend that the outside isn’t scary. Maybe Beryl and I cling to each other because we are afraid of our survival being pointless. We cling to each other to take some of the fear away.
Maybe nothing has really changed.
We only make it two more miles before we hear a distant grumble. The rev of engines changing gears as they rumble down dirt roads before transitioning to pavement.
We freeze, staring down the road behind us, shocked into stillness by the sudden tumult in an otherwise empty night.
They weren’t supposed to know we were gone until morning. They don’t know where we are. They don’t know where we are going…
Lights glow and then become blinding as they crest a hill.
