“She’s—” Lorenzo tried to speak, but Alicia elbowed him in the chest.
“Let’s show him instead,” Alicia said as she turned to a gap in the tents to their left. “C’mon!”
Carl followed the Farrells past the tents. There, Shyanne was seated on the ground next to a white-haired man with a spouting beard. The man sported a red flannel shirt and jeans. Shyanne was laughing at something the man was telling her. Tara and Michael were seated close by.
As Carl approached, Tara turned, saw him, and then sprang from her seat. “Carl!” She hugged Carl tightly. “I found Daddy! I found him! I found him when I was working the bucket line. He was there. We also found Michael’s parents. They’re helping in the shelter in the school store along with my mom!”
Carl instantly was relieved at the news, though he remained a little guilty. “I’m sorry I didn’t help you.”
“What?” Tara pulled back and looked at him. “Carl, you had to sleep. I wasn’t going to bother you for anything. We had it all under control. You needed to rest. I told everyone else to leave you alone, too.”
Tara escorted Carl to her father. “Dad, here he is! Captain America himself.” She then patted Carl on the shoulder.
The man arose, offering his hand. “Pete Rowe. Good to meet you. Tara has told me a lot about you. You have my thanks for getting her back home.”
Carl shook his hand. “Thank you, sir.”
Pete turned to Shyanne. “I’ve had quite a time getting to know this young lady.” Then he stood back to reveal what looked like lollipops drawn in the dirt. “She drew us a bunch of candy trees.” He chuckled. “Isn’t that something?”
Shyanne waved her stick around. She had used it to scrawl the trees in the dirt. “One of them is a peppermint sprinkle tree,” she said with a grin.
Peter invited Carl to sit with them. He did so, and quickly grew to enjoy the elder Rowe’s company. However, he couldn’t shake his feelings of anger and frustration at his state of health. He decided that he would work them out, but alone.
Chapter Ten
“Carl, you’re crazy,” Tara said as she hovered over him. He was busy zipping up his backpack. “No, this time you are crazy. You can’t go off by yourself!”
“No, it’s completely logical.” Carl tugged on the backpack straps. “The farm’s only two hours away on foot. If I go by myself, the trip will go a lot faster. I don’t need to keep track of everyone’s movements.” He stood up. “It’s the best way to go.”
“But what if you need help?” Tara threw up her arms. “You’re still recovering. I heard you cough earlier. I don’t care how much you want to deny it.”
Carl strapped on the pack. “A little cough won’t hurt.” He pulled on the straps, finding them secure. “Trust me. This won’t take long. No one’s even going to know I’m gone.”
He started his walk through the camp of tents. Then he stopped and eyed Shyanne, sound asleep leaning against Tara’s father, who also was napping.
“Don’t you want to say goodbye to her?” Tara asked.
Carl sucked up a long breath. “It’s better that I get this over with quickly.”
Tara planted her fingers against her forehead. “Carl, for God’s sake, please be careful. I don’t want to have to tell her any bad news.”
Carl stared at the dusty path that led from the camp out to the town’s main road. “Shyanne, she’s happy with you. Happy with you and Michael.”
“Sure. She’s happy with all of us,” Tara said. “Definitely you, of course.”
Carl walked a little down the dusty road before stopping. “She’ll need a family. When we’ve finally settled down, she needs to be with people she loves and trusts. People who will be there for her. And, I’d like her to have both a mother and a father.”
Tara grimaced. “Carl, what are you trying to say? I feel like there’s a goodbye in there.”
Carl chuckled. “No, not a goodbye. Just something to think about.” He looked again to the road ahead of him. “I don’t know where my place is in this world any more. I thought being a soldier made me perfect to handle a world of chaos but now I’m not so sure. I just need to think about some things, and I want to be alone.”
Tara swallowed hard. “Okay.” She crossed her arms against her chest. “I hope you find your answer. I also hope your answer returns you back with us.”
“Me too.” Carl turned to walk. He did not look back. “Me too.”
For the first time since he had driven to the Rally for Rights event, Carl Mathers was alone. Not alone in the sense that he was alone without friends or companions. No, he was actually by himself without any companions within easy walking distance. It was just him and the road.
To his surprise, the experience actually was quite soothing. He expected to continue raging against his inability to help with the firefighting and his sudden nap last night. Perhaps he had vented enough about that. However, as time passed Carl figured it was because he almost had no responsibilities now except to walk to his parents’ farm. He just wasn’t concerned about anything other than reaching his parents. There was nobody to lead, nobody to care for, nobody to shepherd to safety.
He mulled over his conversation with Tara. She must have gotten his mind started on wondering about families in this new world, or perhaps he had been thinking about his future subconsciously. He loved Shyanne and wanted to care for her, but watching her with Tara, Michael, and now Tara’s father made him feel inadequate by comparison. They looked more like a family unit than just him and Shyanne did.
But Harold’s a single dad, Carl countered to himself. He was raising two boys by himself. Carl could handle one little girl. Yet he couldn’t deny the clear benefit Shyanne would experience with having two parents and even surrogate grandparents if Michael’s folks were counted.
Also, a part of him wondered how long he would be around. Tara said she hoped Carl’s answer would return him to her and the others. But Carl wasn’t so sure of his eventual fate. He might be killed by another deviant like Ben. Or, perhaps duty would call him away to somewhere else. If a restored U.S. government suddenly descended from the sky in a helicopter, could he say no if they asked for his help?
The ground started to rise under his boots. Carl noticed the asphalt was rising and falling just up ahead. The ground was hillier in this area. Carl almost kicked himself for not recognizing it. He had driven up and down this road many times. He truly was locked in his own mind.
He was so locked in his own thoughts that he was stunned when he spotted the man approaching from ahead.
Carl’s first instinct was to go for his weapon. Wait, if he sees you draw, he might draw a gun himself. You don’t know how this guy will react. Hold off.
A few more seconds of observation told a different story. This guy was limping down the road. He didn’t seem to be on the verge of collapse, but as he closed in Carl could tell he was roughed up. He was wearing gray pants and a white buttoned shirt that suggested a professional of some kind. However, his leg was wrapped with a rag that looked like a field dressing used to treat a wound. His right arm was similarly bandaged.
Carl raised his arm. “Hello!” he cried, “Don’t be afraid. I’m a U.S. Marine. Do you need help?”
The man raised his head, his blue eyes meeting Carl’s. He did not speak. Carl waited until the stranger closed the gap completely.
He was likely middle-aged, judging from his graying, thinning hair. He was also clean-shaven. He must have shaved in the last day or so, a bit of a rarity as the men Carl had encountered after the EMP blast forewent shaving in light of the more urgent needs to find food or water—or deal with bloodthirsty anarchists and killers. His clean face illuminated his hard but light skin.
“You look like you’ve had it rough, sir,” Carl said, “I have food and water if you need anything.”
The man nodded. “I do,” he said with a bit of a slur. His throat likely was parched. Carl quickly provided him a bottle of water and then some f
ield rations.
Carl waited as the man ate and drank his fill. “You’re very kind,” he said, “Very, very kind.”
“What happened to you?” Carl asked.
“I was part of a group,” the man replied. “We were attacked. I was left for dead. I patched myself up, tried to look for help.”
“Attacked? Where was this?” Carl suddenly grew alarmed. This man probably couldn’t have been attacked very far away. Would this man’s attackers find his parents as well?
The man pointed to the left side of the road. “It was near Rippon Lake. We had gathered there. The men attacked us. They wanted our supplies. Jake, he was our leader. Stood up to them. They killed him and the others.”
Carl noted the short, quick way this man talked. Perhaps he was traumatized, or that was just his style. In any case, Rippon Lake was about a day’s walk from his parents’ farm. Perhaps this new bunch of attackers wouldn’t run into it.
“What’s your name?” Carl asked.
“Chip,” the man replied.
“I’m Carl Mathers.” He offered his hand. “Good to meet you.”
Chip looked at the hand for a moment. Carl wondered why Chip was delaying, but then passed it off as more jitters. Chip then smiled and shook his hand.
Once the road curved and left behind the smatterings of trees for open land, the twenty-acre farm was easy to spot. Carl’s heart pounded. His home was in sight! While the homestead appeared like a toy in the distance, the view of it filled Carl with new life. He sped up his pace but then fell into a coughing spasm and had to stop.
“You okay?” Chip asked.
It took a minute for Carl to clear his throat before speaking. “I’m sorry. I inhaled a lot of smoke a few days ago. It’s played hell on my lungs ever since. It’s a long story.” He turned to the farmland up ahead. “What’s important is that I reach that farm. I trekked across so much land to get back here.”
He already had told Chip where he was going. Chip easily agreed to stick with Carl until he returned to town. The man remained as soft spoken as he had been earlier, mostly listening and not asking too many questions. It made things easier for Carl as he finished this final leg of his journey.
“You got family there?” Chip asked.
“Sure do. I haven’t seen them since everything shut down. I don’t know if they’re even alive.” Carl began walking again, but not as fast. He couldn’t afford to aggravate his lungs again before he made it. He had to know if his parents were alright.
It was about fifteen minutes before he closed in on the boundary of the farm. The actual farmland was sealed off by a ring of white wooden fences. To get to the house, Carl had to get past the gate of a chain link fence. Fortunately, he still possessed his keys, including the key to his parents’ house. They had been in his pants pocket after he left his car to speak at the Rally for Rights, and he had held onto them ever since. He opened the lock that bound the fence gate and then hurried up the walkway to the front door.
“I still can remember when this walkway was brand new. They just had poured the concrete,” Carl said. Looking around the front yard filled Carl with greater feelings of nostalgia. The grass was a little overgrown and a longstanding tree had been cut down, but otherwise it was home. He couldn’t ask for more than that.
“Do you want me to wait out here?” Chip asked.
Carl had reached the screen door. “I’ll let you know.” His mind was racing a mile a minute. He first pushed the doorbell button, but then groaned when he remembered that the doorbell would not have any electricity. “Mom! Dad!” He knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again.
“Shit.” Something could have happened. Perhaps they could not answer the door. He fiddled through his keys to find the one that opened the screen door. He was so flustered that he nearly dropped them.
Finally, he found the right key to unlock the screen door. Next, he located the key that opened the front door.
But when he turned the knob, the door would not open. Something on the other side was locking it in place, and it wasn’t the door lock.
“Dammit!” He slapped the door. “What the hell is going on here?” The door was barricaded from behind. It had to be. “Dad!” He screamed several times, but nothing happened except another coughing fit.
Finally, he just leaned against the door. Nobody was coming out here. Either his parents were inside and had not heard him, or they were inside but something incapacitated them, or they had barricaded the house and then left. If the third option was true, then there had to be a way inside that only they knew about.
Carl ran his hand on the shelf along the house’s back wall. “I knew it,” he said, “Dad absolutely would pull this trick.” He glanced at Chip, who appeared confused. “Watch,” Carl said.
Carl then pushed on the shelf. It was heavy, but not so heavy that it wouldn’t budge. However, the strain induced more coughing, and he had to stop.
“Let me help,” Chip said.
With Chip’s assistance, the pair pushed the shelf far enough to reveal a back door. After resting from another coughing fit, Carl chuckled while tapping the door’s top lock. “He hid it. He hid the door. I bet this is the one door that’s not barricaded.” Carl quickly fished out the lock to the back door.
As he unlocked it, Chip asked, “You want me to wait out here?”
Carl finished unlocking the door. “I’d appreciate it. I don’t know what’s in there. If my parents are in my home, they might be alarmed at seeing a total stranger. I’ll be sure to let them know about you.”
Carl then pushed open the door, revealing a mostly dark hallway only illuminated by patches of light from nearby windows. Carl fled inside, calling, “Mom! Dad! It’s Carl!”
He walked up and down the hall as he called. Then he checked room after room, the living room, the dining room, the kitchen, his parents’ bedroom and finally, the old room that was once his own.
The room was now a guest room, with a red bed cover and a white pillow. The room was fitted with a television, a clock and a lamp, all dark without power. Carl opened the shades, providing the room with light. The illumination also revealed an envelope sitting on the pillow.
Carl’s eyes widened. He snatched the envelope and opened it up. The paper inside contained his dad’s handwriting. It was a note!
Dear Carl,
I figured you’d check out your old room sooner or later, so I left this little note for you in case you made it here. I left a similar note in Andy’s old room if he ever came in. I had hoped we could have stuck around for you boys to join us, but things didn’t work out that way.
Your mother took ill. I think it’s an infection. Unfortunately, the clinic didn’t have anything to give us. A friend of ours, John Bower, said he knows a doctor in Bristolwho might be able to help us. You remember his old antique that he’s so fond of? Well, that car still is running. He offered to take us to Bristol so we can help your mother.
I don’t know when we’ll be back. Given how things have turned out, who knows if we can come back. We hoped for the best, but we’re ready for the worst. Don’t put yourself out to look for us. I’m sure you’ve got other responsibilities to take care of. You’ve probably run into some people that need your help.
If this is the final time I ever speak to you, I just want you to know that I’m very proud of you. You and Andy are the best sons a man could ask for. I love you both.
God bless,
Jonathan and Laura Mathers
That was it, except for a date on the letter. It was two days ago. Carl had missed his parents by two days. With a working car, he would have crossed the entire distance from the Rally for Rights to the farm in a matter of hours. Hell, he could have made it here on foot with time to spare if his health had been good. That made this discovery feel even worse.
But they’re alive! Up until recently, you didn’t even know if they were. And Bristol’s not even that far by car.
However, he rebuked himself by po
inting out that now his parents were out there somewhere in a very hostile world. He dreaded the thought of a guy such as Ben running into them. If he just had gotten here sooner, he could have gone with them!
He collapsed back on his bed, utterly exhausted. His eyes grew heavy again. He almost didn’t care if he fell asleep.
Chapter Eleven
Preston was lost in dreamland. He was on stage, speaking before crowds of hundreds, sometimes more than a thousand. He was telling them about all the injustices of the world, how they were being exploited by merciless capitalists, the military-industrial complex, and right-wing special interest groups dedicated to holding down progress in the world and the rights of minorities and the oppressed.
The people cheered as they always did when Preston spoke. His blood raced. This was his world. This was his life. He couldn’t ask for better. He was born to do this. His speeches were streamed online and viewed by hundreds of thousands. He received countless comments, some hateful and threatening, but many complimentary and laudatory, which fueled Preston’s desire to push on with his crusade.
However, as Preston wrapped up his latest speech, the sky overhead turned dark. It wasn’t just that gray clouds suddenly had rolled in. The heavens themselves had become gray. The audience’s clapping slowed down as if a movie suddenly had gone into slow motion. Soon the entire scene had lost its color. The world had changed into a black and white movie.
Then Preston appeared on stage, a different Preston, dressed in dirty, tattered clothing, in contrast to the neatly dressed man on stage with his clean white collar shirt and expensive dark pants. This was the actual Preston, the one dreaming this whole scene. The other Preston on stage was like an old recording. The entire scene soon ground to a halt, leaving the “real” Preston to soak it all up.
This world, the world of screaming fans and political activism, all that he had once known, was gone. He never again would step onto a stage with a mic to his lips to preach his message. The audience, the people who left comments on his online videos, they all were gone, left to fates unknown in a world that had taken away the advanced technology that they had relied on for so much. As for Preston’s political beliefs, he wasn’t sure what he believed anymore. The old political order was gone, wiped clean from the planet by the force of an electromagnetic pulse from the sky. So what place did Preston have in this world?
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