by Hamill, Ike
Robby wasn’t exaggerating. When they pulled up to the big garage attached to the office complex, Robby backed in and they moved the barrels down next to the pump. Robby started up a portable generator wired into a breaker panel next to the frost-free hydrant. The outlet pipe on the hydrant filled the white barrels with a smooth, steady stream. It took less time than filling six glasses of water at a sink.
When he’d filled the barrels, Robby unwrapped two sterile containers and took samples from the first and last barrel. He beckoned Brad to follow him and led the way into the main building, putting on a headlamp as he walked.
“Should we shut down the generator?” Brad asked.
“No, it runs the stuff inside as well,” Robby said. He pointed at the extension cord which snaked in the door from the garage and down the hallway of the facility.
Brad had forgotten his headlamp, but found a flashlight in his jacket pocket. He didn’t need it for long. The lights were on in the lab where the young man led him. The black countertops, glassware, and lab equipment were only familiar to Brad from his college chemistry lab.
“What are we doing, exactly?” Brad asked.
“We test the water quality to make sure it doesn’t have any chemical or biological contamination. It doesn’t take very long,” Robby said.
“Oh,” Brad said.
He watched Robby work. The young man moved around the lab confidently. He donned gloves and took smaller samples from the two cups. Some he loaded into a centrifuge—a word which Brad pried from the back of his reluctant memory—and some he loaded into a big machine which looked like a laser printer.
When the machines were loaded they hummed and spun. Robby and Brad took seats and waited
“Who taught you to do this stuff?” Brad asked.
Robby pointed to a shelf near the back of the room—“This lab is ISO certified, so all their processes are documented. The water quality tests are documented right over there. It’s really pretty easy to follow. I think it has to be, to pass the audits.”
“So you learned the process from those books?” Brad asked.
“Yeah,” Robby said. “I can show you. I mean, after you follow them a couple of times it’s pretty easy.”
“That’s okay,” Brad said, “I trust you. But how did you even know to do this?”
“Do what? Test the water?” Robby asked.
“Yeah,” Brad said.
“It just made sense,” Robby said. “We have to test the water. It’s the most important resource. We could go around drinking bottled water for quite a while, but eventually that’s going to run out, and it’s not really convenient for showers and washing and stuff.”
“Seems like there must be a million wells around here though,” Brad said. “I had one at my house. If I had just hooked up a generator, like you have here, I could have pumped all the water I wanted.”
“True, but they all come from the same aquifer,” Robby said. “And you don’t know how long you could continue to trust the supply.”
“I’ve been using it for years,” Brad said. “I don’t know why I wouldn’t keep using it.”
“Well, before you were relying on the community to some extent,” Robby said. “If your neighbor discovered a problem, you’d be more likely to investigate your water supply. We don’t have many neighbors now.”
Robby had a way of explaining things so it didn’t sound like he was lecturing. He delivered his statements in a way that made them seem like ideas he was formulating that moment. But they were so well constructed, they didn’t invite as much argument as newly minted ideas. Brad imagined the young man in a situation where adults would have no reason to listen to his opinions. He figured Robby had developed this method of explanation as a defense-mechanism so he could get his ideas across to hostile adults. Brad admired his diplomacy.
“You mentioned something funny about the water down in New Hampshire,” Brad said. “Does that have something to do with your caution?”
“Yeah, the liquid. I guess,” Robby said.
The centrifuge shut off and decelerated as the timer beeped.
“These tests weren’t designed to detect that kind of thing, but who knows,” Robby said. He got to his feet and waited for the centrifuge to stop spinning before he plucked one of the test tubes from the device. From the sample, he prepared slides for different machines.
Robby showed Brad what to look for, and how to gauge the results based on photos and tables in the books he laid out on the counter. All of the tests came back negative, and Robby cleaned up quickly. Brad considered himself a quick study, but he didn’t really pay much attention to Robby’s instruction. As carefully as Robby explained it, Brad didn’t see much of a need to learn the process. He figured it was harmless obsession for the young man, but not really a necessary use of time.
As if he sensed Brad was merely humoring him, Robby let Brad in on his theories as they made their way back to the truck.
“I figure it’s best to consider ourselves under attack,” Robby said.
“Yeah?” Brad asked. “Still?”
“Yes,” Robby said. “I could come up with a lot of ideas about what happened, but I’ve decided to focus on the one which requires the most caution.”
“Makes sense,” Brad said. He held open the door to the garage for Robby, whose hands were full with the next batch of testing supplies he would leave in the garage.
“The more I think about it, it must be aliens, and they’re here to colonize Earth,” Robby said. “But you argued against aliens last night.”
“I just didn’t want to put a label on it,” Brad said. “What’s the point of putting a label on something we don’t understand?”
“Because like I said last night, it changes what we decide we can do about it,” Robby said. “Let’s say your force is something that’s always been around. It’s the force that caused the last ice age, or killed off the dinosaurs.”
“Or brought life to this planet,” Brad said.
“Sure,” Robby said. The young man wheeled the dolly over to one of the barrels. “Could you tilt that back?”
Brad helped him muscle the barrel onto the dolly.
“But what are we supposed to do if there’s a giant omnipotent force that wrecks the planet for us?” Robby asked.
“Or fosters it,” Brad said. “People were doing a pretty good job of wrecking the planet. Maybe this force is the planet itself.”
“Exactly,” Robby said. “That’s one of the things I considered too. So there’s this giant force which has always been around and it sweeps through and changes everything. That doesn’t leave us anywhere to go.”
“How so?” Brad asked.
“Well you’ve proposed a force which can’t be defeated, or at least it doesn’t have a motivation we can defeat. You’re already at checkmate,” Robby said.
“But maybe we don’t have to defeat it,” Brad said. “Perhaps the job is done now and we can start rebuilding. But in your model, we can’t afford to sit back and wait to see what happens. We can’t assume that the cause of all this was a benevolent force that means to just hit a giant reset button on the planet,” Brad said.
“Yes, that’s what I think,” Robby said.
“And we can’t just assume all the changes are done? We can’t assume that knocking out almost everyone on the planet is good enough for these aliens?” Brad asked.
“Well, I’d counter that with the example of the dinosaurs,” Robby said.
“What about them?” Brad asked.
“If all this is the same as the dinosaur extinction, then I think it’s pretty clear what our fate will be,” Robby said. “I mean, you don’t see any of them still walking around, do you?”
✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪
AFTER THEY LOADED up the truck, Robby drove through a neighborhood bordering the marsh. His driving still bothered Brad. It wasn’t just the way Robby pulled the seat all the way up to reach the pedals, Robby ignored all the stop signs, rolling throu
gh intersections with barely a glance. Robby turned a lot. He turned down side streets that didn’t have any tire-tracks at all yet in the thin snow.
“Why do you do that?” Brad asked eventually.
“Do what?” Robby asked.
“You keep turning down side-streets that don’t have any tracks on them. Are you trying to throw off an imaginary pursuer?” Brad asked.
“No, not really,” Robby said. “Well, kinda. I mean, yes, I don’t want to have all the tracks pointing exactly where I’m going, but I’m also trying to see all the parts of town to see if there’s anything else going on. That’s how I found you—I saw your footprints and I just followed them.”
“Oh,” Brad said.
“It’s getting hard to see anything over near where you live. There are tire tracks everywhere,” Robby said. “But there are only a few tracks of people on foot. Everyone drives everywhere.”
Robby turned onto a street and joined the tire-tracks already there. On the left side of the street, little one-story houses sat on small lots with short walks leading down to the street. On the right side, the houses were spaced far apart, and their back yards ended with marsh trailing down to the river’s edge. These houses stood two or three stories high. Robby backed down the long driveway of a tall house with an attached garage. As he approached, he punched a button clipped the visor and the garage door began to lumber up. Using his mirrors, Robby guided the truck into the garage and then punched the button to lower the door again before he shut off the truck.
The truck’s engine ticked as it cooled in the big garage.
Robby opened his door before he spoke—“This is where I live right now.”
“Oh,” Brad said. He got out of the truck. “Nice place.”
The garage was clean and spacious, lit only by the bulb of the garage door opener and the two windows on the back wall which looked out to the marsh.
“Where does your power from?” Brad asked. He couldn’t hear any generator running.
“There’s a big bank of batteries and an inverter in there,” Robby said, pointing to a door in the direction of the house. “It’s charged by solar on the roof and a generator I run once a day.”
“Cool,” Brad said.
Robby removed a hose from the wall and uncoiled it carefully. One end had a submersible pump attached. Robby removed the cap from a barrel and dropped the pump and hose down into it. The other end of the pipe connected to a pipe mounted on the wall.
“This pump runs on two-twenty, so I have to run the generator,” Robby said. “It’s noisy.”
Robby had a talent for understatement, Brad decided. When Robby started the generator and engaged the pump, the sound was deafening. Communicating through yelling and hand gestures, Brad indicated that he was going to step outside.
Brad exited the garage through the side door out to the lawn. Many footprints led to the right, around the back of the garage. Behind the building, under the overhang of the roof, someone had brushed the snow off a granite bench. Brad sat down and looked over the marsh. Inside, he heard the motor of the generator level off and he guessed Robby had shut off the pump to move it from one barrel to the next.
At his feet, Brad found scattered gray cigarette ashes, but no butts. He looked closer at the footprints leading to the bench. They looked too narrow to belong to Robby. In fact, on some of the prints, the imprint from the heel looked no bigger than a silver dollar. These prints were from women’s shoes, Brad concluded.
After a few more cycles of the generator’s engine, the sound ended abruptly. Brad wandered back inside, wondering when the feeling would return to his numb backside.
“Sorry,” Robby said. “I guess I’m just used to how loud it is.”
“You ought to wear earplugs,” Brad said. “That’s probably ruining your ears.”
Robby nodded.
“Where does it pump to?” Brad asked.
“A big tank in the attic,” Robby said. “The plumbing in the house is convertible. It can either run on city water, or gravity-fed from upstairs.”
“Smart,” Brad said. “How did you find this place?”
“I drove around looking for solar panels, and then picked the best one,” Robby said. “Want to see inside?”
“Definitely,” Brad said.
Up a few stairs, a door led into a mud room. Robby took off his shoes as he entered and Brad stooped to do the same. The tile floor felt warm under Brad’s feet. He took off his jacket and hung it on a hook next to Robby’s. To their left, the kitchen opened up into a big family room. The whole back wall had big windows which looked out over the marsh and the river. Despite all the glass, the house felt warm and snug. Brad instantly felt more comfortable than he had in a month.
“You want some toast?” Robby asked.
“Love some,” Brad said.
Robby picked out four rough-cut slices of bread from the cutting board and inserted them into the toaster on the counter that separated the kitchen from the sitting area.
“Judy makes the best bread,” Robby said.
“She lives here too?” Brad asked.
“Yeah,” Robby said. “Is she out back smoking?”
“No,” Brad said. “I didn’t see her, at least.”
“She’s probably upstairs,” Robby said.
“It’s so warm in here,” Brad said.
“Yeah,” Robby said. “There’s a furnace downstairs that works on wood or oil. All the heat is radiant underfloor stuff. It’s nice, but it means you can’t sit next to the radiator if you’re really cold.”
“So you’ve got quite a setup here,” Brad said. He walked over to the island and pulled out a tall stool.
“It was all pretty much like this,” Robby said. “I just found it this way.”
“But it seems like you’ve made it a priority to create a comfortable life,” Brad said. “It’s not at all what I expected.”
Robby took a tub of margarine, some jam, and bottled water from the refrigerator. Brad accepted the drink.
“What did you expect?” Brad asked.
“You’ve been talking about aliens, and wiping out the last of the people, and fighting back,” Brad said. “I thought most of your energy would have gone to that.”
“We still need the basics though, right?” Robby asked.
“Fresh bread, refrigeration, and radiant heat hardly seem like the basics,” Brad said.
“Like I said,” Robby said, “this place was already set up.”
The toast popped up and Robby fetched two medium-sized plates from the cupboard and a knife from the drawer. He slid one plate towards Brad and pulled up a stool in front of the other. Robby waited for Brad to butter his toast before he took the knife to apply jam to his own.
“This is good,” Brad said. “Thank you. And thank Judy, wherever she is.”
“Probably upstairs,” Robby said. “So you were saying—I shouldn’t have heat?”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I’m just saying it doesn’t look like your priorities are centered around fighting. Shouldn’t you be doing reconnaissance? Studying the enemy? Trying to lie low and stay off the radar? Band together with allies? Stockpile weapons? Hell, even figure out what weapons would even work against an invisible enemy that controls the weather?”
“What else?” Robby asked.
“I don’t know what else,” Brad said. “That’s the point though, isn’t it? How old are you anyway? You’re clearly very smart, or you’ve had a lot of help figuring out how to get this house running and how to test water and everything, but do you know anything at all about mounting a resistance?”
“I’m still working on the ‘studying the enemy’ part,” Robby said.
“How’s that?” Brad asked.
“I’m working on establishing a bond of trust with a potential source of vital information,” Robby said. “And I’m fourteen.”
Brad took another bite of toast as he thought about Robby’s answers.
“This sour
ce of vital information—how are you establishing a bond of trust?” Brad asked.
“I showed him where I live and I fed him toast,” Robby said.
When Robby smiled, Brad broke into a laugh.
“Let me show you the basement,” Robby said.
✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪
BRAD STOOD AT the top as Robby led the way down the dark stairs. He gave Robby some space. Something about going to the basement with the young man seemed a little off. Robby hadn’t been excited to show off any other parts of the house. After they arrived in the kitchen, he didn’t even bother to show Brad the rest of the first floor. If Robby had turned around to beckon Brad, or shown any concern that he wasn’t following immediately behind, Brad would have fled. Only because Robby didn’t slow at all, Brad walked down the stairs.
When he reached the bottom of the steps, Robby flipped a switch and fluorescent fixtures lit the room with a cold blue and yellow light. The basement had no windows or doors, so only their flickering illuminated the big open space.
At one end, past the open-riser stairs, sat a giant furnace and a wall of tightly-stacked wood. At the other end, Robby stood in front of a long white stretch of wall, white except for the symbols. Brad leaned against a column and looked at the mural of scrawled shapes.
“What is it?” Brad asked.
“I think it’s the reconnaissance you were asking about,” Robby said.
“How’s that?” Brad asked.
“You remember the part of my story where we went to check on the neighbor?” Robby asked.
“Sure, through the snow? Where your Dad’s friend was snatched?” Brad asked.
“Yes,” Robby said. “But it was before that. We went to check on Mr. Dyer, but he wasn’t home. My dad searched the house, and he found something like this in the cellar under the house.”
“And you found the same thing here?” Brad asked.
“No,” Robby said. “This is my recreation of what was under Mr. Dyer’s house. I drew this copy.”
“All this?” Brad asked. He swept his arm and indicated the wall. The wall was enormous and the mural covered almost all of it. Brad gauged that the stretch of symbols must have measured twenty feet long and stood at least four feet high. “Did you have a picture? Did you transcribe it? How did you do it?”
