by A. R. Shaw
He worried about Marcy. She shot the woman at least once outside and then again in the house, but the third shot was unnecessary, as was the fourth. Now was not the time to ask her about her actions, but the effect worried him. She was functioning now, but he knew deeper shock would set in soon, and he needed to get her back before she had the opportunity to break down. He needed her to keep herself together long enough to get them home.
He peered at the front window and saw that the storm had calmed down enough for him to see the truck out in the frozen landscape. He tried to speak to Marcy, to tell her what to do, but the effort of walking had left him spent. Slowly, his back to the wall, he sank to the floor and realized he was passing out.
Dimly, he heard Marcy’s cry. “Sam!”
He had just enough strength to brush her hands away when she tried to apply pressure to the knife cut in his chest. “Sam, don’t . . . don’t leave me.”
“Girl, go get the truck. I’m fine. Dizzy as hell, but fine,” he said as he felt the shadows close in around him.
“Okay,” she said, and ran for the door.
He stopped her before she left and said with slow care, “Marcy, it’s stuck, remember. Put it back in four-wheel-drive, and follow the dropped wheel. Go straight into the ditch. Listen to me, go straight into the ditch and drive straight up and out to the curve in the road. Don’t turn the wheel or you’ll get stuck again. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Sam. I’ll be right back.”
He nodded with his eyes half closed to keep the room from spinning. God, how he hoped she could do it. He didn’t want to be in that house a minute longer, and he really worried about the boy. Glancing in that direction, he could see Mark’s injuries were life-threatening. Even now his very breath seemed fleeting.
The warmth in the truck would also beat the drafty conditions in the shack. If they lost the boy, Marcy would be no good, and he needed to get her back to Graham in one piece. The fact that she’d killed the woman outright was impressive but a bit worrisome. He didn’t think she really knew she had committed the deed—not really, not yet. No doubt, the fact would hit her later. He needed Graham for that. It was only a matter of time before reality came to her.
16 Decided Chance
Early the next morning, Tala rose before the others and barely made it to the bathroom before the heaving overtook her. The bile wouldn’t be held back this time. She hoped no one heard her, but the urgency couldn’t be helped. After cleaning up she talked herself into making the morning coffee and beginning breakfast, even though the smell drove her over the edge. Soon Bang’s little feet padded on the wooden floor. As always, he rose to meet her in the quiet of dawn.
“Good morning Tala,” he said, and poured himself a cup of coffee.
“I know Graham said you could have coffee, but a boy your age really shouldn’t be drinking that much caffeine every day. So go easy, okay? You might stop growing,” she warned playfully, then attempted to straighten his hair with her hands as she imagined his own mother would have done.
He smiled up at Tala, knowing she had tried to fool him. “If it’s good for Graham, it’s good for me too,” he reasoned as he added nearly as much reconstituted milk as coffee, and then added two heaping spoons of sugar. After observing this, she decided to give up on hassling him about the coffee, and instead, focus on good oral hygiene with so much sugar and no dentists around.
Once again, the coffee aroma threatened to send her to the bathroom, and Bang witnessed her recoil at the smell.
“Are you sick, Tala?” Fear came over his small face, and for good reason: he’d lost his entire family to the pandemic. She swallowed hard and recovered, then knelt down to him and brushed his hair out of his eyes once more.
“I’m fine, Bang. I’m not that kind of sick, so don’t worry about me, okay?” She handed him a bowl of grits mixed with some dried venison meat for extra protein. He accepted the steaming bowl and made his way to the table.
Tala had worked very hard to gain the boy’s trust over the past several months, and she didn’t want to jeopardize that bond in the least by keeping a secret. After all he’d been through, he deserved better. So did Graham. She would find a way to tell Graham, and soon.
Keeping the pregnancy a secret would prove to be impossible for much longer, especially with the tight quarters of the cabin eliminating most privacy.
She dreaded Graham’s reaction after his response to putting the girls on birth control. She would never agree to an abortion. Clarisse and Graham both believed terminating would be for the best in theory, but Tala would take her chances. She hadn’t slept a wink the previous night as she struggled over the decision. To her, abortion was murder; no matter the time of conception. Even with the virus still apparent and the unknown immunity factor, she still felt the child had a chance, a chance at life she was willing to take over a clear and decided death.
Macy was next up, and as usual, she cheerfully entered the kitchen ready for a new day.
“I beat Graham this morning?” she asked, surprised, and beamed a proud smile.
Macy’s competitive nature, her determination to beat Graham at everything, always amused Tala. She could almost outshoot him; she could definitely outrun him, and their competitiveness had become a source of entertainment for them all. Once she declared a challenge, it was on. She would practice endlessly and become quite skilled, well beyond her sister’s abilities. A strength this keen became essential to their survival.
“We were up a little late last night,” Tala said in Graham’s defense. “But it’s not even light yet. I think we’re all up a little early this morning.” She let Macy serve herself, and then poured Graham a cup of coffee. Again, she avoided the aroma after a wave of nausea hit her. Sheriff came ambling out of the bunkroom and almost knocked the coffee from her hands. When she finally made it past the doorway, Graham was, in fact, awake and watching over Ennis.
The look on his face took her aback. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah, he’s breathing. He was just mumbling a lot in his sleep last night.”
She handed him his coffee, and as he accepted the warm cup, she asked, “Does he have a fever?”
“He seems a little too warm, but not like yesterday.”
He motioned for them to retreat out of the room to let Ennis sleep longer. He looped his free arm around her waist as they entered the dining area.
“Let’s wake him in another hour, and get him to the bathroom,” Tala said.
“Yeah, but let me do it. Afterward, I’m going to take the pickup truck into town for a few things. I think we should have those painkillers here for him so he’s not in so much turmoil. We need a few other things, too, and I’ll check the post office to see if our Carnation boy has arrived yet.”
She pulled away, not daring to face him in case he detect her nausea.
17 A Quick Trip
The snow had nearly stopped by morning and Graham wanted to get into town and back again before darkness took hold. He wanted to think for a while on his own. Despite Tala trying to hide it from him, Graham had detected she’d been sick to her stomach lately and suspected she might be pregnant, and that brought back recent memories of his wife succumbing to the pandemic and the loss of their unborn child. He didn’t feel good about any of this. In fact, he felt like a jackass, but if terminating a pregnancy meant saving Tala from heartache, he’d do his best to convince her to take the drugs. He wanted to save Tala from going through the agony of losing another child at birth, or later, from the virus itself. He knew she’d never agree to the termination, so he would try to prevent the risk. If he spared her the loss of another child, it would be worth the guilt.
Tala peeked out the front window as Graham warmed up the pickup truck. He waved to her and nodded. She was sad from the weight of the secret he suspected, and likewise, pale from morning sickness.
Graham would like nothing more than to keep the child, especially since it belonged to him and Tala. But he suspected dee
p down that he’d lose her, too, if they dared to try. He had to save her at least. With that last thought, he put the pickup in gear and headed out into town, taking the drive slowly and keeping to the forested tree line where the drifted snow accumulation gave the tires a better grip.
He had never believed much in God, but after losing so many loved ones he had even more reason to negate God’s existence. Why would he allow this to happen to man? It was a question that would never be answered to his satisfaction. And don’t give me that crap about cleansing the earth. I’m no Noah.
Despite how bad the storm had been for a brief period, the snow on the drive wasn’t bad; there was one spot where it had drifted, and Graham had sweated, despite the cold, while shoveling his way through it. He couldn’t wait for Mark to get back home. Graham would never withhold praise where it was due, and Mark was the master of snow clearing.
As he drove Graham thought of how far they had come since the apocalypse began. He knew his father would have been proud of him now. Though he’d struggled against his dad in almost every way, from his politics to his style of dress, he now laughed to himself as he realized he’d become just like the man, with his rifle by his side and nearly the same practical daily attire out of necessity. The irony hit him all at once, and he laughed yet almost cried at the same time. His father, deserving of heaven, was surely chuckling too.
How unimportant the things he’d thought vital this time last year had become. He remembered how he’d tried to convince his dad the marijuana bill being passed in Washington was the right thing to do, and how outraged his father had been. In retrospect, many more important things should have been debated, like the increasing avian flu mutation research for one. What a horrible waste. Even after the shit hit the fan, legalizing marijuana for tax revenue remained the number one issue being debated. Tragically this issue would be the least of their worries. If only they had known what lay right around the corner.
Because Graham’s mind wandered, the drive took less time than he thought it would, and he soon found himself well into town. The first order of business was to go to the doctor’s house first and grab the meds—both the pain meds for Ennis and the others. When he’d last been there the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind that he would need them. Tala took birth control, so they never suspected she could get pregnant, but he knew the pill didn’t provide 100 percent coverage—even taking an antibiotic or cough syrup could foul up the system. He should have at least remembered that.
One thing about the breakdown of society was the lack of general rules and laws. One could choose to drive off-road and through sidewalks or front yards whenever necessary. So when Graham found a snowdrift three feet tall blocking the road he simply drove around it, through the front yard of an old weather-beaten white church with a sign in the window that read aa meetings down below. The sign struck him as odd, and he wondered many times a little room below the old church might have been dedicated to those who overindulged. The down below seemed humorous and, to satisfy his own curiosity, he planned to check the location out someday this spring.
Once he reached the doctor’s house Graham realized he had forgotten his handheld radio. He had always proclaimed this to be a big no-no, and here he was, the first one to break the rule. “Damn. Well, I’ll get this over quick.” The door was frozen to the jamb, and releasing it took several encouraging pushes to coax an entry.
A smoky scent seemed to permeate the old home. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it took Graham back to his own grandfather’s home, where he’d often found the old man toking on big Churchill cigars. The aromatic smoke had permeated every fiber and even clung to Graham’s memories. The old home, decorated in what Graham thought of as 1800s antique shop, mesmerized him as a welcomed blast from the past. The deep green plush carpet was accented with fuzzy burgundy baroque wallpaper and floral Tiffany type lamps set atop dark mahogany craftsman-style end tables. Somewhere a clock continued to tick despite the owners’ deaths. Graham wished he could conjure up the doctor. His expertise would be useful indeed.
Though they had access to Clarisse on the radio, she wasn’t “theirs.” After the previous incident, he and Dalton had made an agreement that their first encounter would be the last time they would intervene in each other’s camps. Because of Sam being separated from his daughter, he would never allow anyone from his camp to enter theirs or vice versa. With the risk, he didn’t want to be responsible for another tragedy, be it death or otherwise.
Graham found himself wiping his feet again, even though it wasn’t necessary in these times. Such a blasted habit! he thought—one instilled in him by his mother. He listened for anything to indicate he might not be alone, then walked quietly through the kitchen and into the adjoining rooms that served as the doctor’s office. These rooms, unlike the rest of the home, were stark white—rooms of serious intention. On their previous visit they had found a lot of helpful supplies here, but had only taken what they thought they might need; they’d left the rest, knowing it would be here if they needed it later.
Well, they had a use for it now. Graham opened the cupboard where he’d found a box containing the pills. The carton consisted of several foil packets of pills. He read the directions and found that the prescription only recommended a dosage for up to eight weeks’ gestation. If Tala was at six weeks now, he had little time to convince her to take them. He honestly had no idea how far along she might be. The set contained one larger pill that was to be taken first, and then the others, one by one as needed until the fetus expelled a few days later. Graham took a deep breath. He’d never given abortion much thought before the pandemic, though women’s rights had always been a subject of much discussion among his peers and friends. He’d thought of himself as a progressive thinker, and he didn’t disagree with a woman’s right to choose. But to be faced with such an option now, made him think of the tiniest of details and the subsequent consequences. This aspect of taking care of the specifics couldn’t be glossed over.
He shoved the foil pack back into the box and concealed the whole container in his coat pocket. He then scanned the shelves for Ennis’s medication, and seeing the bottle lined up under P for phenazopyridine, he took the whole container and closed the cabinet. He backtracked through the quiet house and out the front door, closing it behind him to preserve the smell within for him to enjoy another day.
Next he pulled up outside the post office. He always checked there in hopes the young man they’d met in Carnation on the way up from Seattle so many months ago would show up at some point. He often thought of the kid, living completely on his own. He and Sam had contemplated going back to check on the boy when spring came, on their way to scout out how things were closer to Seattle. Hopefully they’d be able to convince him to stay with them. The more people they had, the better chance for survival these days.
Always careful in town since the bear incident last fall, Graham checked out his surroundings before stepping out of the truck. Seeing nothing, he took his rifle out of the truck, slung it over his shoulder, and went into the post office to see if there was any word from the Carnation boy.
The foggy gray morning still showed some snow blowing in the wind gusts. He thought of Sam and the kids and hoped they were holding up well through the storm they had had last night.
This trip inside the post office was like many before. The bell on the metallic handle of the door clinked as it always had; the sound still bothered him and provoked little hairs to stand on end. It was a hard habit to break: waiting for someone in the back to come out and ask if he needed help.
After he had stepped onto the tiled floor he scanned the counters for any obvious signs of the teen. He’d done this at least once a week for months now, and he didn’t expect to find anything new. But there on the counter, where long-gone patrons had once tossed various pieces of unwanted and discarded junk mail or picked up tax forms every April, lay a piece of paper folded along the middle to stand at attention.
Graham grinned
ear to ear. “About time, kid.” He picked up the paper and read the few lines:
I’m the guy from Carnation. I met you last fall. You said to meet you here. I’m staying in a brick house down the road.
McCann.
“Man of few words.” Graham said aloud, then smiled to himself as the phrase echoed in the small, cold post office. At least this good news would bring a smile to the others. They would have another person there to help with things, and Graham could quit worrying about the boy’s welfare.
Excited at the prospect of meeting the young man, Graham read the note once again as he exited the door. The bell tinkled as he stepped outside, his gaze still on the note. At that moment, an attack was the last thing on his mind, and he would forever regret not taking the usual precautions.
Three feral dogs sniffed at the truck parked right outside the building, and when they heard the bell ring, they knew a human was close by. As Graham took one step, and then the other, they lowered their chests close to their front paws with their fur raised in alert. When the man looked up, they sprang on him and attacked him with a vengeance.
Graham, caught completely unaware, yelled out desperately. With his rifle slung around his back, he couldn’t reach it; one dog already had its fangs sunk deeply into his thigh. Another leaped for Graham’s neck from behind, and a third tugged at his calf, ripping it with its long fangs.
He managed to pull away from the second, but the first two had a great hold on his legs and would not let go. Instead, the bastards shook with aggression, tearing flesh free. Again, Graham went for the rifle when the second dog dived for his side, catching him in the chest, knocking him over, and gouging fangs deeply into his upper arm.
A shot rang out. Graham thought for a second he had somehow managed to get a hold of his rifle, then realized he’d never made it. The one dog tearing at his arm lay dead right beside him, but the others attached to his legs would not let go. Graham grabbed at one’s head and tried to keep him from doing any more damage when he heard someone yell, “Get out of the way!”
