by E A Lake
As Daisy cried, so did Libby. She was what, six now? Her mother was her world. Mine too, but my wife — the one in Chicago — always said I was an emotionless person. Guess she missed the part where I spiked my coffee cup against the wall. The event that led me here, the event that stranded me here.
Daisy and Libby cried openly, sitting together on the bench outside the front door of the cabin. I gave hugs and light kisses, letting them get the sorrow out. I wasn’t heartless, just non-emotional.
A little later, I held Daisy in my arms while Libby chased a butterfly in the yard. Most of the weeping was over. All that was left were the last few sniffles.
“You should go check on Vi and the baby,” she said, rubbing my bare arm. “Make sure she’s okay.”
She was okay. The girl was tougher than a boiled owl. Her father died, no tears. Her mother left, same result. When Wilson led Nate away earlier in the summer, she never even gave it a second glance.
Poking my head inside, I couldn’t find her. The cabin was small, so the task shouldn’t have been hard. In the bedroom, Hope slept peacefully in the bed, pillows and blankets wrapped around her to prevent her from rolling off.
But no Violet…anywhere.
Back in the main room, I paused, wondering where the girl might be. Shrugging, I took a step for the door when I heard something from the far corner. Soft at first, but definitely the sound of crying.
I slid the shower curtain back slowly so as not to startle her. Kneeling, I gave her a small smile.
“What you doing in the shower, Violet?”
With the butt of her palm, she cleaned her cheeks. Glaring at me, her red eyes swam with tears.
“Could you give me a little privacy?” she vented.
“The place is too small for that, sweetie. We’re all in this together.”
Her stare intensified. “Then why aren’t you crying?” she shouted.
I chuckled. “Because I’m heartless, or so some people claim. And it’s the way it has to be. We’ll get fed this way. It’ll be better.”
Her face sank to her hands and the sobbing intensified. “How can you say it’ll be better? This is getting worse every single day.”
Yeah, things were getting ugly. I couldn’t argue with her about that. But we had enough people here to still be okay.
“We’ll be fine,” I replied, rubbing the top of her head.
She looked up at me; her cheeks stained with rivers of dampness. “First my dad, then Dizzy. Then Mom leaves and now Lettie. Who’s next? I can’t take one more person leaving me.”
I opened my arms and she fell against my chest, still heaving with sobs. The girl who never needed a hug needed a hug. I tried to shush her, but she needed to let it out.
So I just let her cry.
Dinner was quiet. Somehow, Daisy knew to stay silent, just offering Violet a small smile or a pat on her hand from time to time. Libby sensed something as well and spent most of the meal on the teen’s lap, hugging her. Thankfully, Hope slept soundly after her bedtime bottle.
I figured it had to be some kind of female intuition, this thing about knowing when to talk and when not to. As usual, I had no idea when was the right time for either.
“Bob, what are your plans for tomorrow?” Daisy asked in a cheery tone. “Any idea of where we stand on wood?”
We’d been almost completely silent up until now, so her question jolted me from a near fugue-like state.
“I’d like to try and cut at least four big sections tomorrow,” I answered, narrowing my eyes at Daisy. She simply wiped her mouth and smiled back at me like I was missing something. Most likely I was.
“Perhaps Vi might be able to help you with that,” Daisy continued, giving the teen a glance. If she did want to help, it didn’t show on her face. “If you would like to help, Vi.”
Vi gave a small nod, though I was unsure whether it meant yes or was the prelude to a major blowout.
“I could probably do that,” she whispered, hugging Libby with her left arm while pushing venison around her plate with her free hand. “As long as you don’t mind watching Hope?”
“I’d love to watch Hope all day,” Daisy replied in her continuing upbeat way. I never would have tried this method. I feared for my life more than that. But Daisy somehow knew best. She always did.
Another pregnant pause followed, interrupted by the occasional clink of silverware on a plate or a water glass being thumped on the table.
“Do you think Lettie’s ever coming back?” Violet asked in a depressed tone.
Daisy grabbed her hand in hers. “Yes, she is. She’ll be back after the fall harvest. You can set your watch by it.” She grinned broadly and I finally saw the first hint of a smile from Violet all day. “That is, if we had watches anymore.”
Even I managed a smile with her lighthearted approach. Things were going to be quiet without Lettie, but we were going to be okay.
Day 1,088
She chucked a piece of wood in my direction. “If you were able to split a piece of wood in a decent fashion, maybe the pile out back wouldn’t keep tipping over.” Violet stormed away, stomping as hard as she could on the brown sandy soil.
I watched her until she rounded the corner of the cabin. “You almost hit me!” I shouted. Truth was she hadn’t come close, but I figured it was my turn to cast dispersions. She certainly had tossed enough of them at me over the past few weeks.
Working with Violet, helping her get over her depression, wasn’t improving my mood. I thought I’d witnessed all of her worst episodes throughout the past three years, until we tried to do this chore together.
The worst had been when she begged to use the ax and then damn near chopped my foot off. As much as I tried to remain calm, it became impossible. Mostly because she felt her actions were inevitably somehow my fault.
Daisy trotted between us most days, Hope pulled tight against her. She was mostly afraid that I was going to kill Violet, which was a very real possibility. What she said over and over — and over — to Violet, I didn’t care. As far as I was concerned, they could have been plotting against me, and that was fine with me. At least it would release me from the hell I’d been trapped in since Lettie left.
Two days prior, Wilson showed up, all smiles. That was odd for a man I wasn’t sure even had teeth until he showed proof. Seemed that Lettie was a godsend. His crops had already improved, all due to the old gal’s magic touch. And of course, that pissed Violet off.
Everything, in all reality, pissed the girl off. If I was happy and whistling a tune, she was mad. If I didn’t smile and perhaps didn’t answer a request quickly enough, she was mad. If I paid too much attention to Libby, if I dared to hug Daisy, if I made goo-goo eyes at Hope, the girl was mad.
And I was perpetually confused.
I didn’t care about the feelings of an almost 15 year old, if I was honest about it. Her mood changed a little more frequently than the hourly temperature. Her and her mood swings weren’t my problem.
Or so I thought.
Daisy and I sat on the bench, enjoying the last of the sunshine just before the mosquitoes came out for their nightly feast. When I went to hold her hand, she checked to make sure Violet was busy inside.
I grinned at her and she looked confused.
“Can we just kill her?” I asked, smiling for the first time all day.
Daisy laid her head on my shoulder. “It’s hard being a teenaged girl, and a mother, and living like this.”
I shook my head. “Yeah, and it’s a real blast living with a teenager, who’s a mother, in the middle of the apocalypse. Such a delight.”
“She feels abandoned, Bob. People she loves and cares about are either gone or dead. You have to remember that, please.”
Yeah, and once upon a time I was going to try to get back to my wife, I thought, but decided to leave that out.
“So why’s she always pissed at me?” I asked, glancing around to make sure the demon teen wasn’t listening.
Dai
sy gave me a quizzical look, as if she didn’t understand the question.
“You know better. Don’t be dense,” she answered, crossing her arms and turning away.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Daisy. Really.”
“You want to run off and fight Clyde Barster,” she replied in a quiet voice. “She’s scared she’ll lose you, too. Don’t pretend like you don’t know that.”
I could tell from Daisy’s voice that Violet wasn’t the only one worried about losing me.
“I don’t have any idea where he or his gang is right now, Daisy.” My retort probably sounded fairly pissy, but I didn’t care. “No one’s losing me anytime soon. Unless I die from boredom or an ax to the head from you-know-who.”
Daisy laughed. “Vi cares about you far too much to ever hurt you.”
Maybe, maybe not.
Day 1,090
Another day in paradise, chopping wood with a teen seething with enough vitriol to fill an Olympic-sized swimming pool. How much fun was one guy allowed? Worst of all, I had no way of escaping her wrath, though I tried often.
Earlier in the morning, I had snuck out before anyone was awake. I enjoyed the orange glow of the sunrise, the smell of the pines and morning dew on the grass, the sounds of birds calling to one another, lost in a forest of multiple shades of green foliage that enveloped our home.
My goal was to re-stack the wood that kept tipping over behind the cabin. Truth be told, the last year’s cuttings didn’t look too well organized on the south side either. But my cutting wasn’t the cause of the issue. No, it was my helper.
An hour or so into my work, I sensed an exasperated, unpleasant presence behind me. It had to be her.
“Why do you despise me so badly?” Violet spewed. “Why didn’t you wake me so I could explain to you what I had done back here? Why do you insist on sneaking around, pretending you’re the only one here?”
Unhappy with the early morning ambush, I spun on my heels and glared at her. “Well good morning, sunshine! Did you sleep well?”
Her arms were tightly crossed over her chest, eyes narrowed and focused on me. “What don’t you get? The part where I’m trying to help you? Or maybe that I’m not the enemy, but rather your friend?”
Wow, she must have been awake for hours dreaming up that rant. “I had friends, once upon a time. But none of them seemed to hate me as badly as you do.” I took a deep breath, trying to hold back my own personal tirade. Screw it, I decided. She needed an attitude adjustment.
“You know, Violet, if you don’t like something, I wish you’d just spit it out. If you hate me so much, get it out. Tell me why. But if you’re just being a pissy teenager, then grow up. I don’t have time for your bullshit.”
She drummed her fingers against her arm, her eyes locked on mine. If she was going to let loose with any tears, she didn’t let on.
“You don’t get it. You’ll never get it,” she replied, a little less angry.
“Try me. You might find I’m fairly open-minded.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.
“If this,” I said, stepping closer, “if any of this is about me going after Barster, you can just forget it. I’m not flexible on the subject.”
She nodded once and stepped closer, right up to me. Raising her shaky hands, she placed one on each side of my face. Perching on her tiptoes, she was coming far too close for my comfort. But I refused to budge, refused to back down. If she wanted my attention that badly to get that close and let me have it, then I’d let her have it her way.
What she did next shocked the absolute living shit out of me.
There, behind the cabin, next to the woodpile, in a spot I was fairly certain no one inside could see, she kissed me. And it wasn’t a quick peck on the cheek. It was on the lips and hard, with a velvet tinge of passion. It wasn’t what a sister would give a brother. Oh no, there was nothing platonic about it.
And for a fleeting moment, ever so briefly, I enjoyed it.
Quickly I forced myself back to my senses, but the damage had already been done. Her confused feelings about me were now out in the open.
But I was an adult, she a mere child — at least what I considered a child.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I whispered angrily when I’d finally separated us to a comfortable distance.
She shook her head slightly. “You’re what’s wrong with me.”
Like that helped. Three seconds earlier, I seemed to be the solution, not the problem.
Reaching out, she stroked my arm. “I’m so alone. I can’t tell you, I can’t tell Daisy, I couldn’t talk to Mom or Lettie. I don’t know what to do. I’m so scared Daisy is going to see through my façade and then I’ll lose her, too. I don’t know what to do, Bob. I’m so scared.”
“You’re 15, Violet. I’m 27…or 28. Whichever. This isn’t allowed in our society.”
That’s when the tears started. I had to give her credit for holding them back so long.
“What society?” she asked, laughing. “And who cares about age? I’m a woman, I’m a mother, and I’ve had to grow up so much in the past three years. I’m not a child anymore, if that’s how you see me.”
I focused on her closely. “I never said you were a child. I know you’ve been through a lot. But there’s this thing between Daisy and I. And you know it exists. You see it every day.”
Violet wiped away several tears. “Sometimes I wished she’d leave,” she whispered, eyes cast to the ground. “And that only makes me feel worse. She’s so good to me. She helps with Hope, even when I don’t ask her to. But most of the time, I wish she wasn’t here, and it was just you, me and Hope.”
My head spun out of control. Never had I dreamt this was the source of our tension.
“It would never work, Violet. You need someone your own age... like Jimmy Wilson.”
She scoffed at the suggestion with a grunt.
“And Daisy’s not going anywhere. You know that. And if she finds out how you feel, I don’t know how she would react.” I thought I saw her expression shift, more accepting almost, but it was hard to tell.
She gazed at me, her eyes larger than I’d ever seen before. “Do you love me?”
Holy shit this was getting serious. I knew I had to say something a little better than ‘you’re crazy.’
I took her hand and smiled. “I love you, I love Daisy. I love Libby, and Hope, and Lettie. You’re all my family. How could I possibly not love any of you?”
I figured it was the gentlest way of letting her down. I was always stupid, and that moment was no different.
“Can you just tell me that every once in a while?” she begged. “You don’t have to mean it, but just hearing it will make this all more bearable.”
“You know how I really feel, Violet. My heart is pure, and it belongs to Daisy.”
She nodded and then leaned in for a hug. That seemed like the least I could do for her. She’d been brutally honest with me and probably didn’t get the result she had hoped for.
“I love you,” she whispered. I thought about reminding her of what I just said, but she looked up and caught me off guard. “And I know Daisy has never told you that.”
Damn it. She was slyer than I’d thought. Maybe the hug, the one she was still clutching tightly, hadn’t been my best idea.
I opened my mouth to warn her off, but a scream from the front of the cabin cut me off. A long, mournful scream that was becoming hysterical by the second.
“Daisy!” Violet and I uttered at the same time, running as fast as we could to the house.
Day 1,090 - continued
I beat Violet to the porch to find Daisy crying and pointing towards the road. I expected to see visitors on horseback. However, a careful study of the blacktop revealed nothing.
“What is it?” I gasped, out of breath from my short sprint. “What is it, Daisy?”
She pointed, and behind us, Violet let out a stillness-shattering scream. My head tor
e spun around to face her, only to see the same look of horror on her face, crying and pointing, unable to make out words.
I looked towards the road again, taking a few steps towards it. Everything was calm, all was quiet, and nothing was out of place.
I turned back to them. “I don’t see anything. What am I missing?”
They both continued to sob and scream and point. Libby came out the front door.
“On the other side of the road,” Daisy sobbed, “in the trees, just right of the dead spruce.”
I looked again, but still saw nothing. Maybe a few crows, but nothing life-threatening.
Just before I turned around again, I saw a crow land on something. That was when Libby let loose with a scream of her own.
I took a few more steps forward and stopped, feeling my body shudder.
On the far side of the road, right where Daisy said, hung two charred bodies. Ropes were wrapped around their hands, feet and necks. The crow pecked at the blackened flesh.
With no one’s help, I cut the bodies down from the tree. Except for the smell of charred flesh, the task wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. It was dead people, and it was all gruesome and such, but the screaming women were worse in my mind.
From across the road, Violet shouted instructions, “Are they real? You should bury them. If they’re not real, you don’t have to, I guess. If you need help, you’ll have to wait until Mr. Wilson comes tomorrow. I’m not helping and Daisy says she’s physically ill because of all of this. Don’t you think you should catch them instead of letting them drop like that?”
That was it. I trotted across the road to the cowering teen.
“Listen, this is bad enough without all the commentary,” I hissed. “And of course they’re real people.” She looked at me funny. “Well, they were real people. Now, they’re just dead people.”
