by Brad Manuel
Greg nodded. He knew they would have a lot of time to talk about what he had seen. He wanted to ask more questions about the rapture. He was locked in his dorm when the sick were moved to the infirmary. He did not know much about the disease. Greg knew his mother was dead, and wanted to know how she died. How she was at the end.
“Anyway, I wasn’t sick, and my parents kept all this food, and we wrote down some rules: Don’t trust the military or the government. Don’t trust adults. Don’t go outside or be seen or have fires until you know everyone is dead. Don’t share your food. I stuck to those until about four weeks ago. I haven’t seen or heard anything for weeks. At first the airport was crazy busy, and I could see military planes and big jets coming and going all the time. I would sneak up there and watch. Guards were posted, but they weren’t paying attention. The military was moving people and equipment and supplies. I have no idea where. After the first week, there were less and less soldiers, less planes. Then there weren’t many planes landing. I hid in our house. My parents went to the neighbor’s house to die. They wanted to make sure I had a clean place, no dead bodies to deal with. I stayed there until the gas ran out in the fireplace. Oops, great planning, huh? Gas fireplace?” Rebecca laughed. Greg smiled. He loved hearing her story. He enjoyed the sound of another voice.
“I knew they built this subdivision pretty close to us, and there was a model home with a fireplace, a wood burning one, not gas like ours. I moved supplies over here, took wood from other houses, and I moved. I kept waiting for someone to show up, even a bad person or the government, I didn’t care at this point. You know? I just wanted to see and talk to someone.”
Greg continued to nod. “Yeah, I know. I walked off the highway and smelled the fire, and thought the same thing. I had to see another person, even with the risks. I didn’t want to be alone anymore.” He felt light headed, weak from his journey, and he swayed slightly from side to side as if he was about to blackout.
Rebecca sat on the couch while Greg was on the hearth warming his bones and finishing the soup. She got up and sat next to him, giving him another hug. She began to cry again. Greg was not an emotional person, but this time, unlike the first time she hugged him, he hugged her back tightly.
Rebecca felt Greg’s ribs under his thick fleece pullover. He was a skeleton. His clothes were filthy, and he was soaking wet. She could feel him shivering. She saw the color drained from his face.
“You have to get out of these clothes.” She announced. “I don’t know how you aren’t sick as a dog. How long have you been walking in the cold and rain?”
Greg had to think about his trip before answering. He was a zombie. “A week, I think. I can’t remember.” He began to cry. “I don’t know. Oh my god, I don’t know. A week? I can’t get there. I keep walking, and I can’t get anywhere. I have cat food in my backpack. I almost ate cat food.” Greg’s composure was gone.
Rebecca stood. “Take off your clothes. You need a bath, and some clean, dry pajamas. I don’t think you have a fever, but you need to rest. I’ll drag another couch in from the other room.” She picked up the soup pot and poured water into it from a nearby bottle.
“Get out of those clothes.” She said to him again. “Don’t be bashful. Stay by the fire. I’m going to get some dry pj’s for you.” She hung the water pot over the fire before heading upstairs.
Greg pulled off his fleece, folding it neatly on the hearth just behind where he sat. His fingers were clumsy, nearly useless. He was more exhausted and feeble than he realized.
Rebecca came back downstairs holding an armful of linen, pajamas, a robe, and a set of slippers. She dropped them in front of Greg. A towel sat on top of the pile.
“I’m going into the other room. Call me when you are changed.” She looked at the water over the fire. It was forming bubbles, but not at a boil. “Try and hurry. I’m making you more food. You feel like a skeleton. Also, it’s cold in the other room. I don’t want to be in there long.”
The young woman went around the corner into the dark. “I’m waiting.” She called, as if she knew Greg was still sitting on the hearth and not getting dressed.
He shook his head to clear some of the cobwebs that were forming, took off his clothes, and dried himself with the plush towel. He pulled on the clean pajamas, wrapped up in the robe, and slipped the fuzzy shoes onto his feet. “Okay.” He called to her.
Greg looked like a little old man. Matching light blue plaid adorned his body. The clothes were flannel and warm, but they were slightly too big for him, particularly in his current malnourished form.
Rebecca bounced around the corner and clapped her hands. “There. You are starting to look healthier already. I can wash these clothes tomorrow if you want to keep them. I think they should just go in the trash, but it’s up to you.” She picked up the folded wet outfit Greg wore just minutes earlier and placed them on the bottom step of a staircase. “I don’t know if you will be able to keep it down, but I’m making you some ramen. I know it’s salty, but it’s calories, it’s fast, and it’s warm.” She opened a cupboard next to the fireplace. Greg saw rows of soup, pasta, and ramen. He saw canned vegetables, fruits, soda, and bottled water.
Rebecca grabbed a package of chicken ramen noodles, placed it into the now boiling water, and stirred the noodles with a metal fork.
“One more thing.” She jumped up and ran through a swinging door. She returned with an egg, and a cold soda she offered to Greg.
“An egg? Where did she get an egg? How old is that egg?” Greg’s mind asked questions while his mouth remained silent. He opened the bottle of soda and began to drink. Despite his attempts to find water during the trek, he was always on the edge of dehydration. The clear, sugary liquid felt fantastic against his dry throat.
Rebecca cracked the egg into the ramen, stirring the noodles rapidly to scramble the concoction. She used her mitt to pull the pot off the rack, and poured the mixture into a large plastic bowl.
“Eat what you can. I mean, when it’s cool enough to eat.” She placed the bowl of steaming food next to Greg. The metal fork she used to stir rested across the top.
“I know you’re dead tired, but I’ve been so lonely. Do you mind if I just talk to you? You don’t have to respond. I just want to talk to another person.” Rebecca looked at him eagerly.
“You have someone to talk to now.” He said quietly. “We each just made a new best friend.” Greg reached passed the food and wrapped his arms around the young girl.
They stayed by the fire for a few minutes, hugging. Rebecca let go. “One of my house rules, trash goes outside in the containers. No trash in the house.”
Just like that, with the listing of a house rules, the tender moment was over.
Greg did as he was told, walking out to the trash can in his newly acquired outfit to throw away the egg shell and ramen wrapper. It was cold, and sleet drizzled down on him. He was happy to be in a house with a fire, and not trudging towards Hanover, or curled up on the floor of a random house, hungry and cold. He came back onto the porch and noticed firewood stacked on half of the covered porch, conveniently placed next to the door. Rebecca was a smart girl.
Greg grabbed an arm full of wood to load into the basket by the fire.
“There is another sofa in the other room. We can pull it into here. Do you think you can help? I know you’re tired. You can call it a night if you need to rest.” Rebecca hoped for his help, but would manage without him if necessary.
“Sure. I have one more burst of energy left, especially after the egg ramen.” Greg replied. He ate all of the food. His stomach ached from overeating. Six months ago he could eat an entire pizza by himself. Today his stomach was so small a bowl of soup made him feel full.
He followed her into the other room, and helped her move the piece of furniture.
When the sofa was in place, Rebecca ran upstairs and came back down with a blanket. “You can take a bath tomorrow. We still have water pressure. I heat water on the fire and fill h
alf from the tub faucet. It’s where I wash clothes too. Anyway, you smell really bad.” She paused. “Let’s get some sleep.”
“Okay.” He said with a smile. Rebecca was getting smarter by the minute.
Greg grabbed the blanket from the back of his couch and laid down facing the fire. He was the most comfortable he had ever been in his life. Exhausted physically and mentally, his eyes fluttered momentarily as he drifted to sleep. The last words he heard were additional instructions from his new friend.
“Good night Greg Dixon from Hightower. “ Rebecca said as she threw a log on the fire. “If you wake up in the night, please put wood on the fire. You can use the bathroom. As I said, we have water pressure. Please flush, we’re not savages.”
“Good night Rebecca. I’ll see you in the morning.” Greg mumbled.
Rebecca sat on her couch watching him sleep. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she enjoyed her good fortune. She smiled at her sudden companion. Tomorrow she would begin to act like herself, not the young girl she pretended to be.
And she would show him everything.
13
“Craig’s gone again.” Matt stood over his father.
John opened his eyes, rubbing the corners to clear the sleep. “How long?”
“I don’t know. He’s getting better at sneaking out, could be hours.” Matt sat down on the side of the bed and tied his shoes.
“I swear I am going to strap that kid down tonight. Like I don’t have enough to deal with.” John’s anger was short lived. In a matter of weeks Craig lost everything in his world, school, soccer, friends, his mother. If John could run away right now, he would too.
“You think he’s at the soccer fields again?” Matt was done tying his shoes. He stood and looked vacantly out of the bedroom window.
“Part of me wants to put out a saucer of milk and wait for him to come home on his own. I know he’s running away so we’ll have to find him, well, at least part of his running away is so we’ll come find him.” John swung his feet off the side of the bed, taking the spot left by his son. John was fully dressed except for socks and shoes. Searching for Craig was an almost every morning event. He was prepared.
“Is that what you want to do? It’s not like it’s cold or raining outside. We could let him run around on his own for a day. I doubt he’s swimming in the river or skateboarding off roofs.” Matt was as exasperated as his father.
John paused. “We can’t. If he gets hurt, well, we’ve lost enough. He wants to get rescued. It’s the least we can do. It’s the least I can do.”
Craig ran away for different reasons each time. If he slipped out daily, John really would tie him down or dead bolt his windows and door, but Craig might go a week without leaving, or just a day.
Matt and John were caught off guard this morning. They spent the previous day hunting him down. That usually meant a few days reprieve.
“He never goes to the same place right away. I have an idea.” John slipped on his second shoe and stood next to his son.
In the few months since Sharon’s death the line between father and oldest son had blurred.
“Let’s take a car and head over to Highway 17. I have a feeling yesterday was a smoke screen. He’s off to find Greg again, and wanted us to spend the day looking in town spinning our wheels.” John walked out of the room. Matt followed, shaking his head.
“I wish I could figure him out, help him out.” Matt replied.
“In a way, I appreciate the diversion. If I’m thinking about him, looking for him, I’m not thinking about the shit storm our lives have become.” John grabbed a granola bar and bottle of water from the counter as he walked out the door to their garage.
“I hope he’s on the road. I’m tired of walking into homes with dead people.” Matt’s body gave a shiver.
They drove in silence, eating their breakfasts. Their taste in music was so drastic, each preferred silence to the other’s CD choices.
“We need a purpose.” John finally said. “A ten year old has to be kept busy, be given a reason not to ride his bike off into the night.”
Matt did not respond. He chewed his breakfast.
“We need a new house, and we need to get him fishing. He needs to be able to walk down to a pier and throw a line into the water, or maybe have one of us take him out into the bay.” John already contemplated a move to the bay as the days shortened. “We can pick any house we want. Let’s find one that doesn’t hold all of our memories. Let’s find a new neighborhood that won’t remind us of your mother or our friends.” John drove slowly through the empty streets of Mount Pleasant, South Carolina.
“So it’s done. This is it.” Matt replied flatly. “We’re all that’s left. You think the city is dead.”
John let the truck slow to a stop before turning to look at his son. “Let’s find your little brother and start a new life. I’m not saying it’s the life either of us wants, but it’s the one we get until we leave for New Hampshire. This is it, Matt. The world lost. I’m sorry to have to tell you, but yes, it’s over.”
He took his foot off the brake and the car ambled north on Highway 17. John and Matt searched for a young boy riding a bike.
14
Greg woke when he heard a log tossed on the fire. The sun was not up, but he could tell it was morning.
She was real. He met a girl the night before, and ate hot food, and was on a couch in front of a fire, and he could talk to someone. Well, if he could get a word in edgewise he could talk to someone. Greg lay motionless to make sure Rebecca was still friendly and okay with the idea of him being there.
He looked around the room. His excitement and exhaustion the previous night prevented him from noticing how neat and organized the living room was. Rebecca had a brown leather couch of her own that faced the fire. On each end of her sofa were tables with lanterns. A small table and chairs rested against the wall next to the fire. A placemat led him to believe she ate her meals at the table. A silverware caddy filled with plastic forks, spoons, knives, and paper napkins sat in the middle of the table along with salt and pepper. A stack of paper bowls and plates were on a built in cabinet next to the fire. “This is orderly and precise for a young girl.” Greg thought. “I would swear there is an adult living with her.” He lifted his head and looked for signs of a second person, but there was only the one placemat on the table.
“Good morning.” He said, as he stretched and sat up. “It wasn’t a dream. I’m really in a house with another person.” Greg was positive Rebecca was happy he was there, but he still felt out the situation to make sure. “That couch was a little more comfortable than sleeping under my dorm bed at Hightower, or bunking on the floor of a general store. Thank you for everything, the soup, the couch.”
“You’re not leaving, are you?” Rebecca asked. “You are thanking me as if you are going to leave in a minute. Can you stay for a little while? I have a few more surprises, a few secrets I didn’t tell you last night. You fell asleep quickly. I was so excited for another person I didn’t sleep at all. Plus, all I do is sleep. It’s boring being alone. I do my chores, get firewood, keep things clean, then sleep away as much time as I can.”
Greg smiled. He liked Rebecca. She was like the girls at Hightower, excited about life, excited about talking, and excited to tell you everything about themselves. She was a little bit different too. He could not put his finger on it yet, but she was special.
He missed people, and he particularly missed people like Rebecca, girls who liked to talk. Greg was shy. He kept his feelings and motives to himself. Finding a Yin to his Yang was perfect. If he had stumbled upon a person similar to himself, neither one of them would have spoken.
“I want to get up to Hanover, but I’m not leaving now. Besides,” he pointed to the window out the front door, “it’s raining. I’m not going to start off in the rain on a two week hike.”
“Oh, yeah, no, I guess not. Well, let me show you one of the lucky things I have.” She pointed to the flannel robe
she gave Greg the night before. “And maybe we can get you a bath later, cause, well, you know, you still smell.”
Greg did know. He was excited to get the grime off of his body, and do it using hot water.
He stood up, slipped on the scuffs Rebecca set out for him, and followed her through an archway to a kitchen. They went out a backdoor into a yard where a large chicken coop sat with live chickens strutting about. Rebecca opened the back of the coop and pulled out 7 eggs.
Greg did not count, but guessed she had at least a dozen chickens.
“Urban farmers, can you believe it? One of our neighbors had this coop and three chickens. Once I knew I was going to live here, I moved it. It took me two days to dismantle and put back together, but so much easier than walking all the way over to the neighbors every morning for eggs. Then I found another house with chickens. Let’s just say, I eat a lot of eggs. Did you know they lay one every day?”
Greg realized he had to use the bathroom. “Just a second, let me use the restroom…” Eggs! He thought to himself. That’s not out of a can or a wrapper. He used the bathroom, flushed a toilet for the first time in a week, and walked back into the cold kitchen.
“The rest of the house gets really cold, colder every morning. I don’t know what I can do. The living room is getting more difficult to keep warm. It is losing too much heat, and it’s too large to warm from the single fireplace. I’m thinking of hanging up plastic strips, like you see in a meat locker, or maybe just two blankets in each entry. We could walk through the slit in the middle. We would keep most of the warmth where we need it. I know a barn a little ways from here. We could get some heavy wool horse blankets.”
Rebecca cracked the eggs into a non-stick pan. “I hope scrambled is okay. I crack right into the pan, saves me a bowl to clean. I use a plastic fork to scramble them.” She threw some salt and pepper in the eggs and whisked as she walked into the other room. She set the pan down and moved a wire cooking rack over the fire. It was cast-iron and allowed her to put the egg pan right over the flame. “Another one of my Dad’s fireplace cooking toys,” she said with a smile.
