by Scott Cramer
She walked to the front door, not the least bit surprised by the bottles and cans and garbage that littered the front and side yards and porch. This was how the three boys had lived ever since they declined the invitation to live in the mansion. They roamed from house to house, trashing one place before moving to the next. Derek had spotted their fresh trash heap in Eddie’s old neighborhood, which is how Abby knew where to find them.
A piece of orange tape, the type used at crime scenes, was knotted around the doorknob. The burial team had recently cleared the neighborhood of bodies. Orange tape indicated a house was free of corpses. It was more than a coincidence that Toby and his friends only moved into homes that the burial team had already visited.
Abby was certain the three boys were home, likely asleep, even though it was the middle of the afternoon. Three cars, including Toby’s red convertible Mustang, sat in the driveway. The boys had had a long night. She had heard them in the early hours of the morning racing their cars by the mansion, blaring music and blowing horns.
Abby knocked. When nobody came to the door, she knocked louder and longer and then peered through the mail slot. The odor of garbage wafting out crinkled her nose. Someone approached and she stepped back.
Chad opened the door. It took her a second to recognize him. He was chubby, and his hair was longer.
He shouted into the shadows. “Hey, guess who’s here?”
Toby trotted down the stairs in his underwear but at the sight of Abby scampered back up.
A moment later all three boys stepped outside. Toby and Glen had also gained weight. Toby picked up an empty beer bottle and hurled it. The bottle flew over the cruiser and hit the road and skidded. Chad and Glen razzed him for it not breaking.
Abby knew that Toby had thrown the bottle for her benefit. He was proving to her that he could do anything he pleased. No adults meant no rules. He could go to bed whenever he liked and sleep all day if that made him happy. He had the freedom to do anything that only a twenty-one-year old could have done legally before the night of the purple moon.
She felt like saying, “I’m not impressed.” Instead she said, “How are you guys doing?”
“You don’t give a shit how we’re doing,” Toby said. “What do you want?”
Abby had expected a reaction like this. “Two kids came from the mainland,” she said. “They’re living with us now. You’ll never believe what they went through.”
Chad and Glen stepped closer, eager to hear more.
Toby smirked. “Ask me if I care?”
Chad and Glen both looked disappointed, but neither said anything, their obedience to Toby apparently greater than their curiosity.
“Guys, we’re stronger if everyone works together,” Abby began. “If we’re a group—”
Toby cut her off. “We are a group,” he said and tapped Chad and Glen on the head. “One, two… “ He aimed his thumb at his nose. . “three.”
“You know what I’m talking about!” Abby said. “We’re all trying to survive. We can help each other.”
“You’re so predictable,” Toby said, feeding off her frustration. “Save your speech for your meetings. What do you call them? Councils?” He rolled his eyes. “We have everything we need. We can listen to the radio, too. We know what the scientists are doing. We don’t need the nerd to explain it to us.” Toby waved his arm. “There’s enough food and clothes and beer in these houses to last for months.”
Abby realized that she wasting her time. “Fine,” she said. “Please don’t steal any more of our eggs.”
“Steal eggs?” Toby’s tone mocked her. “Did you steal eggs?” he asked Chad.
Chad shrugged. “Not me.” He turned to Glen. “Are you the thief?”
Glen shook his head. “I’ve never stolen eggs.”
“We…” Toby doubled over with laughter. “We…” He held his stomach and tears streamed down his face. Spit flew from his lips. He took a gulp of air to gain his composure. “We might have borrowed some eggs,” he finally said.
The boys gave high-fives to each other.
Abby headed down the steps, debating whether to keep walking to the cruiser or to say one more thing. She stopped and turned. “Next time you borrow eggs, expect a visit from Colby.”
“I’m shaking,” Toby said.
“You should be,” she said and continued.
“Tell me, does Colby still think his father is still alive, living in Portland?” Toby cracked up again.
She clenched her jaw and wheeled around. Chad and Glen did not seem amused by their friend this time. She drilled Toby with a hard stare. “Can you ever be serious?”
“Yeah, I’ll be serious. The comet was the best thing that ever happened.”
Abby was speechless. Her heart was pounding and she could hardly feel her legs. She opened the cruiser door.
“Hey, I’m joking,” she heard Toby say.
Abby drove off. She didn’t think he was joking.
MONTH 3 – A KISS
Driving the Jeep, Abby turned into the school parking lot at noon—right on time—to pick up Kevin. “I have a surprise for you,” he had told her that morning. “Don’t be late!”
Kevin was the one late. He had nobody to blame but himself. He was teacher, janitor, principal, guidance counselor, and school superintendent, all wrapped in one. He often lost track of the time lecturing his students about the differences between reptiles and amphibians, or some such thing.
It was the third full week of school, an experiment of sorts. Kevin had argued forcefully at council that everyone should attend school. He wanted every kid over the age of eleven not only to teach the younger kids, but to study an advanced topic in order to teach that subject to kids the same age and older. Others said it was more important to teach survival skills—how to milk a cow, sail, build a fire—especially to the youngest kids. Abby agreed with the latter group. She had not spoken up, though, because Emily summarized her fears perfectly. “What if it takes the scientists two or three years to develop the antibiotic,” Emily said. “Half of us will reach puberty and we won’t be here anymore. We have to make sure the youngest kids can survive by themselves.” Abby hoped Emily had exaggerated to make her point. In the end, the group had reached a compromise, deciding to teach basic survival skills to those under the age of seven, while Kevin would teach math and science to third and fourth graders.
Abby pulled up beside Derek who was behind the wheel of the minivan. He was here to pick up the school kids and drive them back to the mansion.
He powered down the window. “Late again,” he said and rolled his eyes.
“Predictable,” Abby replied.
Kevin, in fact, was the most predictable person she knew. Even his surprise for her was predictable. Probably some new book he wanted to show her at the library.
“I’m going to hurry him up,” Derek said and blew the horn.
Abby beeped, too.
Moments later the doors flung open and kids raced out of the building, laughing and shouting, this school day ending no differently than they had ended before the night of the purple moon.
Kevin followed with an armload of papers. “Let me drive,” he told Abby.
Her chest tightened. She fought the urge to protest and slid over to the passenger side of the Jeep, cinching the seatbelt extra tight.
Gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white, Kevin pulled out of the parking lot and took a right onto Millhouse Street. The winding road passed through the desolate western side of the island. It was the shortest way to the harbor and to the library.
Predictable, she thought.
“I taught them how to do square roots today,” Kevin said, beaming with pride.
“Please concentrate on the road!”
About halfway to the harbor, Eddie flagged them down. He was standing next to the Volkswagen. He told them that he had left the headlights on while gathering firewood. “The battery’s dead,” he said. “Give me a push and I�
��ll pop the clutch.”
The blue VW Passat was the only car in the fleet with a standard transmission. It had a clutch and stick shift. To start it up when the battery had no juice, it was easier and faster to roll the car and ‘pop the clutch’ than to hook up the jumper cables.
Eddie shifted into second gear, depressed the clutch, and turned the key in the ignition. Kevin and Abby pushed on the rear bumper. As the car rolled down the gentle grade, Eddie quickly took his foot off the clutch. The engine coughed and fired up. He depressed the clutch again so the car wouldn’t stall. Eddie thanked them, executed a three-point turn, and disappeared in the opposite direction.
On the road again, Kevin drove past the library.
“Hey, you missed the turn,” Abby said.
“No, I didn’t.”
“We’re going to the library, right?”
Beads of sweat glistened on his brow. “Abby, I told you I have a surprise for you.”
“It’s not a book?”
He made a face. “Give me a break!”
Becoming less predictable by the second, Kevin pulled into the dock parking lot and climbed out. “Follow me,” he said and headed toward the base of the jetty.
The jetty was made of huge granite blocks, about twenty yards wide, ten yards above the water line, and extended a quarter mile into the harbor. A flashing beacon, which hadn’t worked in months, was at the tip.
They scrambled up the giant blocks. Shell shards littered the flat surface where gulls had dropped clams to bust them open. On top, without saying a word, Kevin headed toward the end of the jetty and Abby followed.
“I know! You’ve figured out how to turn the beacon on.”
Kevin continued walking.
“I give up,” she said. “What’s the surprise?”
He didn’t stop.
At the very tip, he turned and faced her. “Abby, close your eyes.”
She closed her eyes. Her arms and face tingled from the sun baking the salt crystals on her skin. The bell buoy tolled in the distance. A shadow swept across the inside of her eyelids and she knew that Kevin had moved closer to her.
“Keep them closed,” he said.
“I am!” Abby’s heart fluttered at the thought he might do the most unpredictable thing ever and kiss her. She felt his breath on her cheek, but it might have been the breeze.
“Hold your hand up,” he said.
Abby lifted her right hand.
“Other one.”
Kevin’s touch was gentle as he slipped the cool metal braid on her left wrist.
“Open them!” he said.
The delicate gold bracelet had the most incredible ruby. The size of a pea, it burned fiery red in the sunlight.
“Kevin, it’s beautiful!”
“It was Mother’s.”
“I can’t take it,” she said immediately. His gesture touched her deeply, but Abby knew intuitively the bracelet should remain in the Patel family, a memory of their mother. If anything, Emily should have it.
“I want you to have it,” Kevin said.
She listed all the reasons why he should keep it, but he kept insisting. Abby finally gave in and said, “It means a lot to me. Thank you.”
He stared at her, saying nothing. She knew the look. He was about to kiss her. At her friend Mel’s twelfth birthday party, Doug had had that same expression of fear and confusion before he kissed her.
Abby moved closer to Kevin and lifted her chin. Surrounded by water, at the tip of the jetty, they were on their own little island. His eyes were dark brown and his skin perfectly smooth.
Kevin cleared his throat, turned and walked away.
Had she done something wrong? No, it was Kevin. He had chickened out. He had become predictable again. Abby made sure her pocket didn’t have a hole and tucked the ruby bracelet safely inside.
“Hey, wait up,” she called and ran after him.
* * *
The day was perfect in every way, Jordan thought. Perfect for sailing, a steady, gentle breeze blew from the southwest and seas were calm. The afternoon sun burned brightly in the clear afternoon sky and warmed the air. The day was also perfect because of who was with him.
He pulled in the mainsheet, the rope controlling the sail, and heeled the skiff high on its port side. Emily shrieked. He liked to make her shriek. “Never waste wind!” he yelled.
A quarter mile off shore, they had a good view of the mansion. Laundry hung on lines, and hundreds of rain buckets sat empty on the lawn. Cars filled the driveway and lined the road. Smoke leeched out of the mackerel smoke house. The American flag fluttered in the breeze. It looked like the circus had come to town.
Jordan loved the occasional splatters of spray shooting up from the bow. The sprinkles kept them cool and added to the thrill of sailing a small skiff. His grandfather had built the boat from a kit. Grandpa had told Jordan and Abby that someday it would be theirs, but Abby never seemed to care that Jordan considered the boat his own.
Strands of Emily’s long brown hair stuck to her face, and Jordan thought how incredibly pretty she was and how lucky he was to have her as a friend.
They were both lucky for another reason. Puberty for them was a long way off. For the older kids, Abby included, the clock was ticking. Before their bodies started producing hormones the space germs would attack, Jordan hoped the scientists would hurry up and find an antibiotic that defeated the germs. He squinted at the sun to clear his mind. Now wasn’t the time for dark thoughts.
“What if we tip over?” Emily cried, smiling.
Jordan licked his lips, tasting salt. “What if we do?” He yanked the mainsheet again. The boat danced on the edge of a knife, a split second from capsizing. Emily scrambled up the starboard side.
If they did capsize, Emily would bob like a cork in her lifejacket. But Jordan would never allow them to capsize.
He raised the boat even higher until water sloshed over the gunwale. “Can you swim?” he asked, knowing the answer.
“No!”
“Shouldn’t you learn?”
“In forty-degree water? No way!”
“It’s more like sixty degrees,” he said and eased the boat down and then tacked.
He caught Emily looking at him. She blushed and held his gaze and his heart did a flip. She dipped her hand in the water and a wake blossomed from her slender fingers.
“Are you ready to sail?” he asked.
Emily made a muscle and pointed to the defined bicep. “Do I look ready?”
He could not deny how strong she had grown as a result of her work on the farm.
She switched position and sat next to him, her leg pressing against his.
Emily sailed less aggressively, and without the splatter of spray, her hair dried and blew back.
Jordan started to say what he had wanted to say for the past several days but he clenched his teeth. No, not yet… His pulse pounded in his head. Yes, now. “Emily…” His throat pinched and his head pounded. The sun seemed to grow bigger. “I really like you a lot.”
She smiled shyly and moved closer, her face inches from his. Some strands of her hair actually touched his nose and tickled. All of the problems in the world disappeared. He became aware of water lapping against the hull and the gentle popping of the line against the mast.
“I like you, too,” she said and brought her lips to his.
MONTH 4 – FOUR BIRTHDAYS
The plan had gone perfectly and they were ready to leave. Abby glanced in the rearview mirror from behind the wheel of the police cruiser parked in the mansion driveway. Eddie and KK sat in the back seat, holding hands. Toucan and Danny sat in their laps, also holding hands. Barry sat beside Abby in the passenger seat, not holding anyone’s hand.
A lot could still go wrong, but after two weeks of planning and being secretive the hard part was over: the unsuspecting passengers were in the car and their presents hidden in the trunk. To capture the event, Abby had made sure to bring a digital camera.
There w
ere four birthdays this month: Eddie and KK were turning thirteen, Toucan would be three years old, and Barry would be ten. If Abby could maintain the ruse for another ten minutes, all four kids were about to get the surprise of their lives.
Not everyone favored celebrating birthdays. The thought of approaching puberty consumed Derek. He’d spend hours in front of the mirror, inspecting his wispy mustache. Abby had overheard him discussing which boys had pubic hair. According to Derek, the growth of pubic hair was a sure sign the space germs were about to attack. “Birthdays are reminders we’re all getting older,” he had said. “That’s the last thing we want to be reminded about.”
“It’s important to have fun,” Abby had argued. “Survival is more than making sure we have enough food and water.” Thankfully the majority had sided with her.
Abby asked her passengers if they were ready to go to the hardware store. Earlier she had told them that she needed help carrying rolls of chicken wire.
“Let’s do it,” Eddie said. “The sooner we go, the sooner we get back.”
Barry looked at her with pleading eyes. “Can I push the button?”
Abby sighed. “Once.”
He pushed the button. The police siren wailed.
“I want to do it,” Danny said.
“Toucan do it.”
What had she started? “Later!” Abby told them. “We have to go.”
She pulled out of the driveway and headed toward the harbor on Wildwood. Out to sea, a large thunderhead boiled high into the pale yellow evening sky, warning that a squall was about to break. She turned up the radio volume.
“Wash your hands with hot water and soap,” the robotic voice said, delivering another meaningless bulletin.
Any day now—any hour—the kids expected the CDC to report real news: the results of the human trials. For more than a month the scientists had been testing the latest antibiotic on people. But they had not yet reported that it worked.
