The No Where Apocalypse (Book 2): Surviving No Where

by E A Lake

  “Do you make a habit of sneaking up behind women and sniffing their hair?” she asked in a harsh tone. “Women you’ve just met?”

  Shooting her a quick smile, cheesy I’m sure, I raised my hands. “I was just trying to locate a smell I couldn’t put my mind around,” I admitted, hoping she didn’t pull the pistol again.

  “Fish camp,” she answered, nodding and taking another sip of water. “It takes a while to get rid of.”

  I cocked my head. “Pardon? I don’t think I follow.”

  Placing a hand on her hip she looked at me as if I were half-crazy. “I’ve been at a fish camp for the past year,” she answered, her tone lightening. “Needed to be able to eat and feed two kids. Fish camps always need help.”

  I nodded, smiling as I did. “I get it. Did you just leave? Just wondering; the smell is still fairly strong.”

  Her eyes rolled left, then right, as her lips twisted opposite directions. “Probably been a month, maybe six weeks I suppose.” She leaned closer to me and took a large whiff. “You don’t smell like no spring daisy yourself, Bob. When was the last time you cleaned up?”

  Nate laughed at the pump. “My sister tells him that all the time. You’re just like Violet, Daisy.”

  Daisy grinned and steered Libby back towards the front yard. “I think I’d like this sister of yours, Nate. She sounds like a straight shooter. Where’s your shovel, Bob?” she called over her shoulder.

  “I can dig that for you,” I offered, chasing after her like a stupid little puppy.

  She stopped and turned, serious again. “I didn’t ask you for any help. I can take care of it myself. Brendon was my child.”

  “Really, I don’t mind. I want to help.”

  Stroking her dirty face, she stared me down harshly. Tiny nods finally followed. “That would be very nice of you. I appreciate your kindness. Maybe there are decent men left in this wretched world.”

  I ran to the pit, where I stored my tools, for the shovel. Standing still for a second, I caught my breath. My heart was racing a little. Not enough to startle me; just enough to give me pause. I snuck a peek back at the woman, Daisy. Her blond hair, delicate features, soft whimsical voice. Yeah, that made it increase again, just like I thought.

  Year 3 - mid summer - WOP

  Daisy and I buried her son in a shallow grave on the south side of my property. I wanted to keep the boy away from my pump and fresh drinking water supply. I really had no idea how that all worked, groundwater and all.

  Lit by the afternoon sun the spot was idyllic, except for the flies. Once in the ground, most of the black bastards attacked the decomposing body and left me alone to fill in the hole.

  I looked up, midway, at Daisy. Her expression was that of relief more than sadness. Not a single tear streaked her dirt stained face, not a sniffle from her small delicate nose.

  “He would have been six in early fall,” she stated, sounding shallow. Almost as if she didn’t want to care anymore. “He was always sick, ever since birth. When the fever got him last winter, I thought he was dead then.” She looked at me and shrugged. “The last months haven’t been good, but I still see them as a blessing.”

  Watching her approach the covered grave, I leaned on the hickory shovel handle. How would I have handled this, I wondered. She was strong, stronger than I was. Emotion nipped at her voice, but her face and stance was that of a survivor.

  She laid a small bouquet of daisies on the dirt. They were plentiful along the road, and about the only blooming flower to be had. Kissing her fingers, she placed them near the flowers.

  “Sleep well, my little prince,” she whispered, “your battle is over.”

  When she rose, I wiped away the tears I shed. Perhaps her toughness, grown by being alone with two children, made her stronger. Apparently, I wasn’t strong enough.

  “I’m sorry.” It was probably the lamest set of words I could offer the young mother, but nothing else came to mind.

  Nodding, she sighed. “Thank you. I appreciate your kindness.”

  I don’t know what happened. I’m not sure if it was me or her. Something I did, some small motion, tip of the head, tightening of lips. Or maybe she just wanted it, needed it. Whatever the cause, I opened my arms as she approached and wrapped them around her.

  Yes, she stunk of fish. Yes, I stunk of months without bathing. But in that moment, it didn’t matter. Not one bit.

  She squeezed tight, as if she were holding to an anchor and dared not let go. I wasn’t letting go either.

  My arms wrapped around the diminutive adult with ease. I knew when I first saw her on the road that Daisy was petite. But this was different.

  The top of her head didn’t make it to my chin. I should have known that, she was inches taller than a nine-year-old. Her body had nothing to it. It seemed so cliché to me, but Daisy Vaughn was not mere skin and bones…she was skin and bones.

  Her hair felt like ripened straw, had the same color as well. I figured the texture was either natural or the result of months — maybe years — at a fish camp. It didn’t matter though; she was perfect.

  When our embrace ended, she took my hand and we walked in silence back to the front of the cabin. Inside I could hear Nate playing a game with Libby. I could tell from the little girl’s squeals that she was having fun. I knew Nate was dying to do anything with anyone. As long as it was fun, he’d have a good time as well.

  We took our spots on the bench. I noticed Daisy’s grin as she handed something to me. My God, she had the face of an angel. No — she was angel.

  “Thought you might want this,” she laughed, handing me my Glock.

  I’m sure I blushed, for more than one reason. But did I ever feel alive.

  “Would you mind terribly if I asked a favor of you?” Daisy’s eyes looked into my soul with her question.

  I softened my expression to somewhere between a smile and a grin. I’m sure I looked tremendously stupid in her beautiful eyes.

  “Sure, what do you need?” I replied.

  “Could Libby and I spend the night here?” she requested in the sweet tone. “I’m not sure I can walk any further today.”

  I nodded, probably like a bobblehead of some sort. “Yes, that would be fine. Stay as long as you need.”

  She replied with a smile that made me feel even more alive. Leaning closer, she caught me off-guard.

  I expected a hug, or maybe her head would come to rest on my shoulder, even a peck on the cheek was a possibility.

  Instead, she kissed my lips with hers, softly. “Thank you, Bob. You may have saved my life.”

  I fought back tears and smiled. Maybe I’d saved her life. But Daisy brought mine back from the grave in that moment.

  Year 3 - mid summer - WOP

  The children finished their plates of fresh fish (thanks to Nate and Dizzy), new potatoes, and old green beans on the couch. Daisy and I sat at the small kitchen table, exchanging smiles and small talk.

  “The fish camps are a busy place,” she explained, nearly licking her plate clean. Even her appetite made me smile. “I was a cleaner. That’s such a nasty job. They bring you bushel baskets full of fish, and from sunup to sundown all you do is gut and scale.

  “Some of the catch went to the fillet stations. But I never caught on with filleting. So I spent my time mostly gutting and scaling.”

  She made it all sound so boring and dull. As if no thought went into her work. Though her hands were dirty and chapped when she arrived, I hadn’t noticed any missing fingers or gaping wounds.

  “Who took care of the children while you worked?” I refilled her water glass and received another of her pretty smiles. The kind that encompasses an entire face, lighting up the eyes as well.

  “Mostly young girls,” she replied, sipping daintily at her water. Daisy and Libby arrived with what seemed to be an unquotable thirst. Hours later, I think their rehydration was complete. “Young woman not ready to be put to work mostly. Eight, nine, maybe as old as ten. By twelve, they stood
all day on the fish lines. Or they helped haul away the processed fish for salting.”

  “How long were you there?”

  Her eyes shut as her pixy nose scrunched up, considering the question. “Let’s see. I arrived when the last of the snow left, the previous spring. And I left maybe a month or five weeks ago.” She gazed at me. “How long is that you suppose?”

  I thought it was July. But it could have been early August. “Probably sixteen months, give or take.”

  Leaning back, she ran her fingers through her hair. “It was terrible work,” she went on, “but it kept me and my children fed.”

  Something that had bothered me since I first saw Daisy bubbled to the top of my mind. Though I should have waited, I decided openness was the rule of the day.

  “And the kids’ father?”

  I expected a harsh glare. Or maybe a spiteful shake of her head. Instead, Daisy shrugged.

  “Not in the picture,” she answered, plainly. “There was a man I took up with at the camp. And while he was nice at first, a drop of liquor turned him meaner than a grizzly bear.”

  Jeez, how was I supposed to reply to that news? Sorry you found a bastard in the apocalypse. Like I hadn’t seen my fair share.

  “That’s too bad,” I replied.

  “That’s why I left,” she countered. “I didn’t feel safe there any longer. I worried he might serve his wrath on my children.” Leaning forward on her elbows, she stared at me. “Do you think it was wrong of me, to leave like that?”

  I shook away her concern. “No. I don’t blame anyone for anything anymore. You have to do what keeps you safe, what keeps you alive. If you had fears, they were most likely well founded.”

  She glanced past me to the far corner of the room. Watching her eyes narrow, a question formed on her delicate lips.

  “Do you have that shower working somehow?”

  I grinned. She was going to enjoy this.

  After the water heated, Nate and I kicked a ball out front, away from the structure. I left Daisy and Libby with three buckets of warm water, each perched on the side of the upper lips of the shower, a trick I had finally learned to make the process easier. All the woman had to do was to tip the bucket and warm water would fill the shower basin, slowly covering you with streams of cleansing fluid.

  I heard laughing and singing from inside. I listened to their sounds of normalcy as Nate chased the ball towards the road. Life had returned to No Where in two tiny packages. I tried to suppress my joy, but it insisted on sneaking out through my grin and my fluttering heart.

  Year 3 - mid summer - WOP

  Nate read the girl a story from one of the two children’s books I had. Well, it wasn’t so much mine as something my grandmother had purchased maybe 30 years ago for my grandpa to bring here. As far as I knew, the woman had never stepped foot in the cabin. Not in the last twenty plus years at least.

  Still, my grandmother’s touch surrounded us. The painting above the couch, the colored melmac dishes in the cupboard. Even the couch itself had been selected by her, and shipped northward with Grandpa.

  Libby’s tiny eyes fluttered shut as Nate read. Clutched in her arms was the dirtiest stuffed rabbit I’d even seen. Mister Bunny, as he was called, had survived the apocalypse in slightly worse shape than myself.

  Seeing the girl fast asleep, Nate curled up on the opposite end of the couch and picked up a manlier book, in his eyes I’m sure. Something on the subject of hunting whitetail or trapping beaver, if I remembered correctly.

  Behind me, I listened as Daisy’s steps came closer. When they stopped, I thought about turning, but decided against it. She wore a large red tee shirt I had given her. Of course, it hung down almost to her knees and the oversized body, one even too large for me now, hid any of her form. Still I wanted to give her some sense of decency.

  I felt a finger touch the scar on my left side; it next floated down to where my missing left pinkie should have been.

  “How long ago?” she murmured.

  I finally decided to face her. When I turned, her eyes took in the front of my wound. I saw her grimace slightly.

  “The finger two winters ago,” I answered as if it were no big deal. “I got nailed in the side by a slug this past spring, maybe four or five months ago.”

  She inspected the wounds closer. Even going as far as to lift my hand for thorough look. “Whoever patched you up did a good job. I’ve seen wounds no worse than this kill people.”

  That was my patron saint’s handy work. And the healing power of wanting to get rid of her teenage daughter.

  “Nate’s mom is a nurse,” I answered, letting her rotate my hand at various angles. Perhaps she was being nosy, but I didn’t mind the feminine touch. “His sister keeps getting stuck with clean up detail. You know, watching me to make sure I don’t die or something stupid like that.”

  Lowering my hand, she let go. She patted my bare chest as she passed in front of me and towards Nate. Whispering something in his ear, I saw him nod and she kissed his forehead. Even he smiled.

  I followed her into the bedroom where a single candle burned. Pausing at the door, I grimaced: time to be a gentleman.

  “You go ahead and take the bed.” I said, “I’ll sleep in the extra chair in the living room.”

  She glared at me. Was that a look of disappointment?

  “Why?” she asked plainly.

  Staring at my feet seemed like the proper eye location. “I figured you’d want some space, and not some strange man snoring in your ear. And,” I paused. Something else needed to be said. “And I’ve got a wife back in Chicago. Just wouldn’t be right the way I see it.”

  I looked up to find her nodding thoughtfully on the far side of the bed. “How long have you been alone?”

  Yeah, that. “The whole time.”

  The seriousness of her face made me wonder what was coming next. “What’s her name?”

  “Shelly.” God, the name almost hurt to say out loud.

  She came closer, reaching for my hand. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, Bob. But you’ve been alone a very long time. So has your wife. I think she’d understand.”

  Tears formed and dripped from my cheeks. Her now clean soft fingers wiped each one away.

  “I just need you to hold me,” she said. She wasn’t begging, she was asking. “I just need someone next to me. I need to know that it’s all right to still be alive. I’ve been strong way too long. I need someone to be my strength, even if it’s just for tonight.”

  I nodded softly. “Yeah,” I answered. “I know how you feel.”

  She took my chin and focused her eyes on mine. At that moment, we were the only two people left in the world. “Don’t ever forget about your wife, ever. But for tonight, can I take her place? Please?”

  I never realized how hard it was going to be. All this time I’d held out the smallest amount of hope in getting home. No woman had so much as tempted me before. But I knew this was coming. And now it was upon me.

  “Yes,” I answered, hugging Daisy gently. “I think that’s okay.”

  And for the first time all day, I felt her cry, softly against my chest.

  Year 3 - mid summer - WOP

  I didn’t have kids. And I’d never spent much time with Bud’s two hellions. I hoped Daisy would forgive my morning gruffness, given that Libby had crawled in between us somewhere in the middle of night’s dark wrappings.

  Daisy smiled at me from her pillow, her lips just visible above Libby’s blond head.

  “I didn’t feel her climb in,” she confessed. “I’m sorry. Was she a bother?”

  The woman wore no makeup, which was long gone. Her blond hair had become quite tussled somewhere in her sleep. And the corners of her mouth displayed dried bits of drool. However, she was a goddess in my eyes.

  “It wasn’t fun,” I admitted, then grinned. “I’ve never actually slept with a child before.”

  She tilted her head. “Really? Where does Nate
sleep when it’s just you and him?”

  Oops, she had me there. “Well, Nate’s nine. He always just sleeps in one spot. This one,” I rubbed Libby’s head gently, “ rolled and tossed most of the night. Covers on, covers off. She’s quite a little squirmer.”

  I noticed her blush and become flustered. “I’m so sorry,” she offered. “I should have just slept out there with—”

  I raised a hand to stop her. When she gave me a puzzled look, I stroked her thin face. “It’s not a problem, Daisy. I don’t mind. It was nice to be reminded that I’m still alive.”

  She let out a captured breath and continued with a small smile. “Well, I should get her up and we should be on our way. I’m afraid we’ve overstayed our welcome.”

  My heart broke a little. “Where are you headed? Home?”

  Her eyes glanced away. “No,” she answered as if lost in a dream. “I don’t really have a home. Not one I can go back to per-se.”

  “Well, the next town to the north is Covington.” Something flashed in her otherwise quiet eyes making me wonder.

  “I’m definitely not going there,” she answered, a little more forcefully. “I know all about that place. It’s a death trap, and full of disease.”

  Her answer made me wonder how much she knew about the area. “What fish camp were you at? You never said last night.”

  “Marquette.”

  That made more sense. “So you traded with the folks from Covington. That’s how you know about that place.”

  She nodded, but it wasn’t very convincing.

  “I’m originally from the east of here. Some little village no one ever heard of.” Daisy perched her head on a bent elbow and whispered over the sleeping child. “Because I had a baby out of wedlock, my mother kicked me out of the house. Said I couldn’t come back. When I made the same mistake again, she was done with me forever.

  “I did okay on my own. Worked two or three jobs while one of my girlfriends watched the kids. Course I had to watch hers when she was working. It was tough, didn’t get much sleep, but we got by.”