by Lissa Bryan
Carly’s throat felt tight. Not so much as the loss of the bird, but for what the hen represented. She’d hoped by now to have a thriving little flock breeding enough chicks to spread out among the community and be raised for both eggs and meat. Her continual failure with hatching was bad enough, but to have one of the six precious hens vanish was a disaster.
Justin put his arm around her and Carly laid her head against his chest. “A raccoon?”
“No, there weren’t any signs of a predator. And a raccoon or possum wouldn’t have stopped at just one bird.”
Carly’s brow furrowed. “Are you thinking I left the coop unlatched?”
“No.”
She drew back to look up at him. “You think—”
“It seems likely.”
Carly shook her head. “I can’t believe someone would …” She let her voice trail off. They were all tired of a vegetarian diet, and she knew people were frustrated that Carly’s chickens hadn’t multiplied like she’d promised they would, but she couldn’t believe someone would resort to thievery.
Justin didn’t answer. He led her back to the house, and she knew he was already going over likely suspects in his mind and planning a strategy to uncover the thief.
“What about the eggs she was hatching? Can they be saved?”
She shook her head. “They’re stone-cold. They’re dead.”
He swore under his breath and gathered them up from the nest, tucking them into a pouch he created by holding the hem of his T-shirt.
“Maybe we could give them to Sam,” Carly said. Sam, hearing his name, wagged his tail.
“It’s not a good idea for him to get a taste for eggs.”
She supposed he was right, but it was still difficult to watch as Justin broke each egg into the compost bin. The waste of it …
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
Justin slanted her a glance, his black eyes glinting in the morning sunlight. “Expulsion.”
Carly flinched.
Justin stopped and put his hands on her shoulders. “What do you think?”
The decision had to be mutual. That was what they had agreed to when they restarted this community.
She nodded. As harsh as it seemed, she couldn’t argue with his judgment. The thief had stolen not from just Carly and Justin, but from the whole community. He or she had reduced the chances they had for growing their flock to the point where it could sustain all twenty-seven people. Every loss like this was critical when a cold snap or insect infestation could destroy their food supply. None of them were hungry, but neither did they have a comfortable margin yet.
“It’s not the bird so much as what it represents. They’re willing to put our long-term survival in jeopardy for short-term gratification.”
“I know. I was thinking the same thing.” Carly pulled off her boots at the kitchen door, and they headed inside.
They found Kaden at the kitchen table, reading a text book. He had Dagny seated in her high chair, a bib tied around her neck. She banged her plastic fork on the tray with a grin, chanting, “Yum, yum.”
“Morning,” Kaden said. “Oatmeal’s ready.”
“Did she wake you?” Carly spooned out a portion for herself, taking great effort to hide her grimace. She’d never cared for oatmeal, and she liked it even less now that it was something they had every day.
“Nah, I was up. What’s wrong?”
The kid was too observant. Justin told him about the missing hen as he portioned out the oatmeal.
Carly got out a skillet and cracked the two eggs into it. “You want one of these?” she asked Kaden. “Dagny will only eat one.”
“No, you eat it,” Kaden said. “Really. I don’t want it, and you’re … you know … uh …”
“Breastfeeding?” Carly said, amused as the tips of Kaden’s ears turned pink.
“Yeah, that.”
Justin plunked a plate down in front of the boy and took a seat on the opposite side of the table. “We can get an early start to Brownsville if you get the stalls mucked out quick.”
Carly bit her lip and didn’t say anything. She always worried about Justin on these scouting missions, but lately he’d been taking Kaden along. Kaden was tall for his age and strong, but he was still only fifteen. Now she worried about both of them.
“We can be home early enough that you won’t have to cancel class!” Kaden replied.
“Maybe,” Justin said. “We’ll see.”
Kaden wolfed down the rest of his oatmeal. “I’ll go now.” He jumped out of his place and darted for the door.
“Kaden,” Justin said.
Kaden whirled around and ran back to the table, where he scooped up his empty plate and water glass. He pecked a kiss on Carly’s cheek. “Thanks for breakfast,” he said and dropped his plate with a clatter into the sink. The screen door banged behind him.
Carly carried two plates of eggs over to the table, her own and Dagny’s plate, which featured colorful alphabet letters dancing along the rim. Carly cut up the egg into little pieces and blew on it to cool before she put the plate in front of Dagny.
“He’ll be okay,” Justin said as he filled the baby’s sippy cup with water and plunked it down next to her plate. “Don’t worry. You know I’ll take care of him.”
“Yeah, but who will take care of you?” Carly took a bite of her own and patted her lips with a cloth napkin. She watched as Dagny used her fork to scoop up a bite of egg, which fell off halfway to her mouth. Her little face creased with determination as she tried again.
“You might be surprised.” Justin scooped up the last bite of his oatmeal. “Kid is cool as a cucumber and thinks fast.”
“I’d still rather you took Stan.” Among them now were better shots, tougher fighters, but she trusted no one else in the town like she trusted Stan. It was a silent, mutual pact that had grown during their journey across the US.
“Stan’s busy with the spring planting,” Justin said. “We need him here.”
“Hmm.” Carly used her own fork to spear a bite of egg for Dagny, who ate it with relish, grinning as she chewed.
Justin took his plate to the sink and rinsed it before returning to lean over her chair, his arms around her shoulders. “I’ll be careful honey, I promise.” His breath was warm on her ear, and she shivered lightly. She turned her head up to him, and he brushed a gentle, sweet kiss over her lips and then kissed Dagny on top of the head.
“Da-da!” Dagny gave him a smile and thrust up her arms to be picked up.
He chuckled, wiping a stray crumb of egg from her chin into her mouth. “You haven’t finished your breakfast,” he told her, and pointed to the tray.
Dagny jabbed at the egg and showed him the bite she’d picked up. It fell off, but never hit the floor because Sam was there to catch it. With Sam around, Carly never needed to worry about the floor getting dirty, but it was hard to tell sometimes how much food was getting into the baby’s stomach versus that of the wolf.
“Keep trying, Daggers,” Justin said and kissed the baby again before turning back to his wife. “I’ll be home before you know it,” he said to Carly.
She watched as he reached up to the top of the closet doorframe, where he’d installed a latch so Dagny wouldn’t be able to access it for at least several more years. Inside was his arsenal—or one of them, in any case. A row of rifles stood in a rack, each with a clip of ammo taped to both sides of the butt and one nestled loose inside the chamber, needing only a tap to snap it into place. He’d installed several tilted shelves below, each with pegs to hold his extra handguns in place—he always carried at least two, concealed under the hem of his T-shirts. He insisted Carly wear one whenever she left the house, and she had gotten used to the feeling of the .45 nestled against her hip. It felt almost like her purse had at one time, like she was naked without it.
She raised an eyebrow as he began to stuff a duffel bag with guns and extra ammo. “Loaded for bear, aren’t you?”
He gave her a litt
le grin. “Lewis always used to say, ‘Take as many guns as you think you need, and then double it.’ ”
“Far be it from me to question the wisdom of your former commander.” She gave the last bit of egg to Dagny, who signaled her disinterest by spitting it back out onto the tray of her highchair. Carly wiped off the baby’s face and took the dishes to the sink.
“Bye-bye!” Dagny called as her father went out the door, and kicked at her highchair in impatience to be set free.
Through the window, she saw Kaden leading Shadowfax out of the stable. Justin joined him in the yard, and the two of them hooked the mare up to the wagon, working in silent sync.
Carly stepped out onto the porch to wave to them as they drove away. For a man who said he’d never thought he would make much of a father, Justin sure was good at it. She sighed as they disappeared around the corner, and went back into the house.
Carly gave Dagny a quick bath, wondering how the baby had managed to smear egg in her hair. She was putting Dagny in her playpen when there was a knock at the door. She draped the mosquito netting over the playpen and went to answer it.
Old Miz Marson stood on the porch. At the bottom of the steps behind her was a red Radio Flyer wagon containing a box of Mason jars and a pressure cooker. “T’maters need canning,” she said by way of greeting.
Carly wanted to groan. “It’s still morning and it’s already hot. Why don’t we do it tomorrow? Justin said the barometer indicated it might rain tonight. Maybe it will cool down some.”
“Nope,” said Miz Marson. She carried in a box of lids and rings and dropped it on the counter. “Tomorrow will be even hotter and humid, to boot. We wait any longer and they’ll be too ripe. Go get ’em.”
There was no use arguing, especially when she knew Miz Marson was right. Carly slathered herself with homemade mosquito repellent, made from tea tree oil and mint, and put on her big, floppy gardening hat. She’d never been a tanner, but now, without any doctors to treat skin cancer, sun protection was even more important.
While Miz Marson began to set up, Carly took her basket out to the garden and gathered the tomatoes. Miz Marson was right—some of them were almost too ripe already. The bugs were getting bad again. She pinched off chewed-up leaves and made a mental note to come back out with the soap repellant they used on the vegetables. The commercial pesticides only had a shelf life of a few years, especially since they weren’t stored in climate-controlled areas any longer. The few that had been stable enough to use were gone now, so they were testing different mixtures of homemade repellants. The frequency of the rain added another layer of difficulty.
She carted in the first basketful, and Miz Marson washed them while Carly gathered more. After she brought in the last batch, Carly collected more wood and stacked it by the stove. She went over and tugged Dagny’s playpen farther away from the oppressive heat of the stove, under the window where she might catch a cooling breeze. The baby grinned up around the plastic keys she was chewing. At fourteen months old, Dagny was getting another tooth and gnawed on everything in sight these days. Carly wished she could give her a refrigerated teething ring to soothe her sore gums, but of course, that was impossible. Despite her discomfort, Dagny was a happy baby and would be content playing with her toys as long as she could see her mother in the same room. Carly pulled back the mosquito netting and played a quick game of peekaboo before bringing Dagny a few more toys to keep her occupied.
Carly joined Miz Marson at the counter, peeling and slicing as she told her about the missing chicken. Miz Marson laid down the knife for a moment and turned to her, her light, ice-blue eyes solemn.
“You think it’s one of us?”
Carly bit her lip. “I don’t know what to think, but that’s what Justin believes. I’m sure he’s going to do that investigative-prowling thing of his and check every bit of garbage in town for chicken bones.”
“Damned shame about those eggs.” Miz Marson shook her head and went back to peeling.
“We’ll try again,” Carly said. “Then again, they might not have hatched anyway. There has to be something I’m doing wrong.”
“I think it’s the Infection.”
“Birds don’t get Infected.”
“You know that for sure?”
Carly blinked. “Well, no, but they didn’t drop from the sky because of it.”
“They could be carriers, just like us.”
Did that mean the chicks wouldn’t survive? Carly glanced over at Dagny, the only baby she knew of born since the Infection. Would other mothers face the horror of miscarriage or seeing their babies die soon after birth?
“The thief prob’ly grabbed the broody hen because the others scattered while she just sat there on the nest. Break her neck quick, and he could get out of there without the other birds making much of a fuss.”
“Is that why he took just one?”
Miz Marson nodded. “Like as not. The others would squawk and flog. The thief would’ve wanted to grab it fast without making noise.”
“Maybe we should take the next eggs and try incubating them ourselves. Justin thinks one of the solar panels would supply enough power to run an incubator.”
“Speaking of solar panels, Bryce and David were fighting over that solar panel again last night. I could hear it all the way over at my place. It almost came to blows.”
Carly took a deep breath. David had found the solar panel in the garage of an abandoned house. It hadn’t worked, but Bryce knew a little bit about batteries and electronics, and he had tinkered with the wiring until he got it working. Since their community didn’t have a specific use for it yet, Justin had said they should keep it for their personal use until it was needed.
The agreement was that they would share the panel if Bryce fixed it. Bryce would use it during the day to power a radio he was using to search for messages on the airwaves and broadcast his own, searching for survivors who might know of the whereabouts of family members he was sure had survived the Infection. David would then use it at night to run a fan with the battery power the panel generated during the day. Predictably, their agreement broke down when one or the other hadn’t used his share and thought he should be able to use it in the other time instead.
“I’ll talk to them. Justin—”
Miz Marson jerked her head toward the window. “Do you hear that?”
Miz Marson might have been elderly, but her ears were sharp. Carly listened hard and let out a small gasp of surprise when she heard it. Music. They exchanged an awed look for a moment, as though they had encountered a ghost of the dead world, and then Carly blinked back to reality.
“I’ll be back. Please watch Dagny for me.”
Miz Marson nodded and waved a hand. The request hadn’t been necessary.
Carly followed the sound down the street, Sam trotting beside her, his tongue lolling as he panted. She pitied him his thick coat of fur. As she got closer, she could make out the tune and singer. She’d never particularly liked country, but hearing music again after all this time was a feast for her ears, and it made her eyes sting a little. She paused to savor it for a moment, but had a job to do.
The sound was coming from the backyard of the house on the corner. Carly rounded the corner and saw Jason lying on a bench under an old Massey-Ferguson tractor, muttering as he twisted a tool up in the tractor’s underbelly.
Jason and his wife had arrived in Colby a few months ago in the early spring. Carly liked his wife, Laura, who had worked in a health food store before the Crisis and knew about medicinal herbs. Though she had been familiar with them in pill form, she was now searching the nearby area to see what grew naturally. Jason had been a prison guard but worked on cars during the weekend, and his mechanical knowledge had come in handy. His current project was converting the tractor to be fueled by a wood gasifier. If he could get it to work, they would be able to cultivate more land than Shadowfax could by pulling the plow.
Carly had to call his name twice before he heard her. He cra
ned his neck.
“Oh, hey, Carly.” He slid down to the end of the bench and sat up, wiping his forehead. He had hair and eyes almost as dark as Justin’s, but his skin was so pale that the dark shadow of his facial hair was visible even when freshly shaved. His cheeks were pink from heat and exertion. “What’s up?”
She nodded toward the portable radio CD player he was using by the tractor’s wheel. “I heard the music.”
He grinned at her. “Great, isn’t it? I’m not much of a Garth Brooks fan, but I found this in the house. It’s just awesome to hear music again.”
“Yeah, it is,” Carly said. “But we shouldn’t waste the batteries. They’re a finite resource.” They had a few that could be recharged by the solar panel Bryce had rigged up, but they didn’t last very long.
“Aw, come on, Carly. It’s just a few D cells.”
“I know. But we shouldn’t use them if we don’t have to.”
He chewed on his lip, considering. “Is Justin around?”
“Why do you ask?” She met Jason’s eyes until he looked away.
“Yeah, okay.” He leaned down and switched off the CD player, then opened the back of the case and pried out the batteries. He offered them to her in his outstretched hand.
She shook her head. “You keep them. Just don’t use them if you don’t have to, okay?”
“All right. Sorry.”
She gave him a smile. “No need to apologize. How’s the tractor coming?”
Jason brightened and launched into a discourse on carburetors, to which Carly just nodded and smiled, having no idea what he was talking about. She knew she probably ought to try to learn this stuff, but it was like her brain went numb whenever anyone tried to discuss the inner workings of an engine. When Laura came through the gate and into the yard, she nearly sighed with relief.
Laura had a stack of plant books with her and a basket on the other arm. She smiled at Carly and kissed her husband on the cheek. Laura and Jason had been together for almost a year and had been living in one of the guard towers at the prison until Justin spotted them during one of his scouting missions. Good thing, too, because they had very little food since the prison hadn’t been replenished during the Crisis, and she and Jason had been living off the edible plants she found and the small animals they were able to catch in traps.
