by A. R. Shaw
Straining his vision in the dimness, he scanned the room’s layout. One door led to the back, another to where the bathroom might be. Sam followed, and they opened each door to check the rooms.
“Clear,” Dalton said out of an old habit no longer necessary.
“Are there keys anywhere?”
Breathless from the adrenaline rush, Dalton pointed to a key rack mounted behind the main door.
Sam said, “There’s one missing.”
“One of the keys?”
“Yeah. Cabin seven.”
Dalton looked at the keyboard hanging on the wall and, in fact, keys swung from every hook except the one for cabin 7. “Hmmm . . . you think there’s someone here and they’re staying in cabin seven? Can it really be that easy?”
“Maybe someone was left here when the sickness began. Maybe cabin seven is the owner’s cabin, or the caretaker’s?”
“Well, let’s go find out. Grab the keys to the others. We’ll clear them along the way. The noise might rattle them out of their hidey-hole.”
“There’s no doubt in my mind they’ve heard us by now, if there’s anyone here.”
Dalton agreed. Whoever was here was either hiding in fear or waiting to ambush them. He had to convince the residents that even though they were trespassing, Dalton’s group didn’t intend to stay more than one night, and he wanted to warn them about the enemy to the south.
As they exited the office, Rick nodded in their direction. Dalton pointed down to the row of cabins, and Rick understood their intention. Dalton cautiously walked down the row of cabins and Sam followed, covering their rear. An attack could come from any direction, and though they were guarding against the most obvious, they were completely vulnerable.
At cabin 7, the one missing its key, Dalton looked in the window before opening the door. The dark interior showed no signs of life, so he knocked loudly. “Anyone there?” He paused as his plea echoed across the lake. He tilted his head toward the rear of the cabin for Sam to check it out. After a few seconds, Sam called it clear.
Dalton reached for the doorknob and turned it, and the door opened easily. Sam rejoined him, and the two stepped inside. The combination living room and kitchen was clean and neat, with white cabinet fronts and light streaming through a small window framed in cheery yellow plaid curtains above the kitchen sink. The bedroom and loft bunk room slept four easily, and the beds were neatly made. There were no personal affects lying about, and no dirty dishes, but there was wood stacked by the woodstove and clean, dry towels hung neatly in the bathroom.
“What’s out of place here?” Dalton asked Sam. “Sure, it’s a cabin rental, it should be clean and tidy, but what am I missing?”
“It smells fresh,” Sam answered. “The upstairs window is cracked open a few inches. Nothing’s out of place, and there isn’t a musty smell; there would be if that window had been shut the whole time. Someone’s keeping this place up.” Sam pointed behind Dalton’s head toward the door. “There’s your missing key.” Beside the doorframe, at eye level, key number 7 hung from a hook.
Dalton flipped on a light switch; nothing happened. “No power. Not that I expected it.”
“Someone must be maintaining the dam. Leeching out the water after storms, taking care of these cabins. Do you want to keep going, or stay here tonight?”
“As much as I’d like to keep going, it’ll take all day to get everyone over here. We’ll stay put until tomorrow,” Dalton said.
With that they headed back to the boat to drive off the truck. When they were through, Sam stayed with the truck while Rick and Dalton returned with the barge for the next load.
~ ~ ~
Graham and McCann were left to fend for themselves and the horses as they waited to be picked up for the last trip upriver. The hum of the barge engine faded in the distance as the sun dipped behind the mountains, leaving an atmospheric glow. The breeze off the lake wafted in more of a chill than before. “We’re staying in the cabins?” McCann asked, trying to make easy conversation as he held his rifle out, peering into the growing darkness and chewing on a twig.
“Yep. Rotating guard, of course. They say there’s no electricity, but there is running water—God help me, I can’t figure that one out—and there are clean sheets, on real beds. We’ll sleep very well, at least for tonight. In shifts, that is.”
“Seems kinda creepy if you ask me,” McCann said.
Graham chuckled, “Yeah, well, I’ll take one night of comfort even if I’m creeped out a bit.”
“I’d rather sleep in the woods. Is that weird?”
Graham shook his head, grinning in the dark. McCann was always so serious. They needed that, but Graham was sorry that it was so. McCann never let his guard down, and unfortunately that’s what it took to survive in the world now.
The horses whinnied inside the trailer, and one long tail slapped the side of the gate. Graham happened to be looking at the dam when the lamps suddenly flashed on, saving the dusk from the fading light. “I’ll be damned,” he said, chuckling at his own wordplay.
“Is it on a battery?”
“I have no idea. We couldn’t get inside. The place is locked in a steel casing, like a fort.”
“The damn dam . . .” McCann rolled the twig between his teeth.
“Good one.” Graham had never heard anything funny come out of McCann, so he encouraged even this simple bit of wordplay.
Suddenly the radio in Graham’s hand came to life with Rick’s voice. “You guys okay? Over.”
“Yeah, we’re fine. Over.”
“We saw the lights come on. Over.”
“Yep. A reminder of the past; someone forgot to turn them off when they left. Over.”
“Check. We’ll be back in about forty-five. Rick out.”
A large crane fly drifted by in the ambient light of the electric torch lamps, and as dusk turned to dark, the soft timbre of the crickets grew louder.
“Nothing they could have done for us anyway, that far away.” McCann speculated.
“No, you’re right,” Graham said. “It’s survival, and hope for the best; but if you have to, go down fighting.” He flashed suddenly on the wretched image of Dutch’s last minutes. These days, too, shall pass. He hoped so, for everyone’s sake.
~ ~ ~
Graham turned on his flashlight at last when he heard the faint murmur of the barge engine revving louder as it came back across Diablo toward them.
“Finally,” McCann said faintly, kicking at the ground with his boot.
Graham knew the young man by now; his anticipation wasn’t out of fear as much as distance. McCann never let Macy out of his sight willingly, or for long. Graham understood; his own desire to be beside Tala and protect her grew stronger by the minute.
“Let’s get going,” McCann said. “Horses out first. Pull the trailer on, then we’ll reload them.”
In no time they were underway over the lake in the cool early night. Graham guarded the rear of the boat, rifle in hand, as the dam lights faded in the distance; he feared the beacons might be the last artificial light they might ever see, and he wanted the image burned into his memory. He knew that the creation of memories couldn’t be a conscious effort, but still he tried.
Chapter 8 A New Home
“We separated into cabins. I gave you guys one of the larger ones with the extra bedrooms,” Clarisse said with a tired smile. The day had been long, and they were all sweaty and tired despite the cool breeze. “The beds are made—with sheets and everything!” she said with wide-eyed surprise.
“Thanks. Which one are we in?” Graham asked, picking up on her enthusiasm.
“Number eight. Same rotation for watch, otherwise, we’ll meet up early at the office and get going.”
“Perfect. We’ll see you guys in the morning, then.” Graham waved to Clarisse and Dalton as he and McCann headed off to find cabin 8 at the end of the row along the boardwalk; their footfalls clumping noisily.
The idea of having a shower h
eld almost as much appeal as getting to sleep in a proper bed. Having Tala sleep comfortably for once meant he wouldn’t have to worry as much about her or the baby during the night. He was scheduled for watch duty at two in the morning, but that was no problem; he’d pull his four hours and head back to bed and catch a little more sleep before they made their final trek up to Hope.
Ambient light from lanterns, flashlights, and woodstoves gleamed behind the thin curtains of each cabin as they explored their new luxury accommodations for the evening. Tents were an adventure, but having a solid floor under your feet meant security to most. And finally having a little quiet time alone with one’s family made this part of the trek a little easier. In the morning, they would again continue to Hope, recharged.
When McCann reached cabin 8, he did the most peculiar thing: he stopped and knocked. “Just open the door,” Graham said impatiently
Macy opened the door, smiling at both of them. “Welcome home,” she said, waving her arm in a gracious, sweeping gesture to beckon them in.
McCann stood in the doorway, taking it all in; his smile could not have been any wider. Graham clapped him on the back, and they walked into their home, for the night, together. Lamplight softly glowed, filling the space with warmth, and they found Tala standing over a woodstove warming a few cans of beans as Bang fed a few seasoned logs to the fire.
“We’ll have a warm dinner tonight, at least. We can’t let this wonderful heat go to waste,” she said.
Graham slipped his hands around Tala. She’d taken a shower and smelled of soap and shampoo, her hair damp and newly combed. He suddenly realized how much he loved her and that he was really too dirty to be holding her so close to him. “Excuse me. I’ll run off to the shower before I eat.”
“Yes. Marcy just got out. It’s only cold water, but it’s wonderful. Soap and shampoo are in there, and there’s a change of clean clothes for you too. McCann can go after you. The rest of us have had our turn.”
“McCann, keep watch out front,” Graham said.
“Sure, no problem.”
“The watch rotation is on,” Marcy said. “You can relax.”
Mark shook his head. “We’re always on watch, Marcy.”
“Where’s Sheriff?” Graham asked.
“He’s outside,” Macy said. “I’ll let him back in when he shows up. The other two stayed with Lucy. She’s bunking with Clarisse and Dalton, and Clarisse is tending to Frank.”
“That makes me feel better. I’m glad Lucy isn’t alone and having to deal with Frank’s injury on her own.” Tala said. “And how is Frank, anyway? Poor dog.”
“Clarisse set his broken leg and made a splint for him; she said he’d heal in time.”
As Graham entered the bathroom, it hit him that it was the first time he’d found himself completely alone in the past several days. Having his own group—his family—alone and under one roof made him feel more secure, but the uncertainty of what awaited them in the coming days lingered.
In the bathroom, Tala had placed a one-gallon bottle of water and secured an elastic headlamp around the base. The effect was a soft ambient glow that radiated through the water; just enough to see by. She didn’t trust the kids to have an oil lamp in the bathroom; too many accidents were possible. The woman was resourceful, he’d give her that. She was always coming up with smart solutions to everyday problems.
Graham ran his hands through his oily hair and over his beard and then began to scratch his neck. “You are one dirty somebitch,” he said to his reflection in Ennis’s voice. He still missed the man.
Stop it. Don’t go there.
Then, he eyed the shower. In doubt he turned the knob, and to his surprise water began to trickle out.
I’ll be damned. Still can’t figure this one out.
In no time he was clean. Cold from the frigid water, but clean and dressed in fresh clothes. To live this life made you appreciate the simple things—clean clothes and bathing being high on that list. He flipped off the light after he emerged from the bathroom, and then McCann eagerly took his turn.
The smell of baked beans wafted throughout the cabin. “Man that smells so good,” Graham said to the group sitting in the front room.
“Tala found an unopened bottle of barbecue sauce in the kitchen cupboard,” Bang said, his eyes wide and excited.
Graham raised his eyebrows. “So, barbecue beans? Even better.” He sat down on the beige couch between the twins, who were silently zoning out at the fire within the woodstove. Mark halfheartedly stood guard at the window, watching the moon’s reflection on the rippled lake. Tala sat in a comfortable living room chair, and Bang was on the floor in front of her. Graham let out a loud sigh. The fire crackled and occasionally popped, and everyone sat in contemplation without speaking or even looking at one another, drifting into the safety of silence and appreciating these creature comforts.
Tala finally looked up at Graham, breaking his trance. When their eyes met she asked, “Hungry?”
He chuckled. “When am I not?”
Macy yawned loud and long. Mark, still staring out the window, reached for the door handle.
“What’s up?” Graham asked him.
“Sheriff. He’s wandering around, looking for us out there.” He opened the door and whistled low. Sheriff ran to the door, and in no time he’d settled down on the floor next to Bang, licking him in the radiant heat of the woodstove. He sniffed and then eyed the pot on the woodstove like Tala knew he would, and she said right off, “No.”
Sheriff averted his eyes from Tala but licked his chops.
“It’s okay, Sheriff. I’ve got something for you,” said Macy. “I found a few cans of actual dog food under the sink in the kitchen. I’ll give one to him now, and save the other two for Frank and Elsa.” She got up and called Sheriff into the kitchen as Bang followed her.
Soon all could hear the unmistakable sound of Sheriff enjoying an unusually hearty meal; Bang and Macy giggled at the sight of it. Soon they heard the water from McCann’s shower stop, and Tala stirred the beans in the pot while Marcy located several bowls and spoons; moments later they passed around heaping bowls of barbecue beans with a surprise side of saltine crackers.
“Look what else we found,” Macy said.
“Monopoly?” McCann said.
“Yeah. Let’s play!” she said.
“I’ll keep watch at the door. You guys go ahead and play,” Graham said.
He couldn’t get over this serene moment. They’d been through hell in the last several days. Scenes of it reran through his mind, torturing him day and night, and yet here they were, enjoying an evening in solace, having escaped with their lives. They were vigilant, of course, but so precarious was their position, so subject were they to death’s will. So close—and yet, they were alive.
With bowls full of beans and crackers, they settled the Monopoly game on the living room floor. Graham glanced at them between shoveling food into his mouth and keeping watch outside. They giggled and laughed, and soon Tala was yawning. It was contagious, and everyone else began to do the same. They never finished the game, but decided it was a tie and that Mark cheated; he was the designated banker, and they were convinced he’d slipped himself a few extra hundred. They wrapped it up, and the girls said good night and headed upstairs to a bedroom with Sheriff close behind. Bang and Mark were sleeping in the opposite room upstairs, and McCann had the couch in the living room. Graham and Tala cleaned up the dishes and then wandered into their own room, clean sheets and all.
Chapter 9 A Surprise
Graham tried to be quiet as he snuck out of the bedroom at two o’clock. Tala slept so peacefully he didn’t want to wake her, yet the door creaked as he pulled it open.
“Graham?” Tala murmured.
“It’s okay. Go back to sleep. I’ve got watch duty,” he said. She rolled over and pulled the covers up to her shoulders. Graham closed the door and stepped out into the living room, put his boots on, and headed for the door as McCann snored lou
dly on the couch. He put his hand on the doorknob and suddenly McCann was upright with his rifle aimed at the front door—and Graham by extension. His eyes were glazed over, his sleep-tousled hair was a wild nest, and he had the look of a pissed-off and armed madman.
Graham’s hands shot into the air. “McCann! It’s just me! I’m on watch. See you later.” McCann fell back into the couch. Two things came to Graham’s mind: Do not screw with McCann in sleep mode, and thank God he’s a hostile sleeper.
Once out in the night Graham wasn’t surprised to see his own breath on the wind. It was cold; the night’s low must have hit freezing. He quietly walked up the boardwalk to the dock, where Rick was stationed by the barge.
“Mornin’,” Graham said, nodding.
“Not for me . . . yet,” Rick said, wiping his tired eyes.
“Anything to report?” Graham asked while Rick handed him the radio and night vision goggles.
“No, not really. There was some shuffling in the woods earlier, but I figured it was deer. It’s hard to hear well over the rippling water, and sounds travel differently on a lake. I tried not to walk around too much on the pier to keep the noise level down so everyone could sleep. Keep watch on the highway as much as you can”—he pointed across the lake—“but I didn’t see a thing. Watch out for the moonlight’s reflection with the goggles, they blind you if you hit it just right. Sam is taking over for Clarisse right now at the back of the cabins; I just saw her head in. That’s it, I think. I’m toast. Good night.”
“’Night Rick. Sleep well.”
“I plan to,” he said, yawning as he headed back down the pier to his own temporary sanctuary and softly sheeted bed.
Graham raised the NVGs and checked the perimeter from his current position. He had two hours of watch, and somehow he doubted he’d get back to sleep.
They were pretty isolated here, with steep mountains on all sides. Farther up, at the north end of the lake, a lone road would lead the way out of the United States. In the morning they would again begin the process again, loading the vehicles one by one onto the barge and heading up the lake to that road. Then, hopefully, by tomorrow night they might find another place to sleep—or “tent it,” as Dalton would say.
