As the Ash Fell

by AJ Powers

  Megan heard the banging on the door and jogged down the hallway to let the boys in.

  “Hey sis, look what the cat dragged in,” Clay said and stepped aside.

  “Geoffrey!” Megan shrieked and hugged their old friend. “It’s so great to see you!”

  “Likewise,” he said and hugged her back.

  It had been nearly a year since they saw him last. Clay was particularly happy. He really missed having another guy closer to his own age to talk to. Not to mention, the two had become close friends after he joined their group.

  “I almost killed this clown as we came around the corner,” Clay said as he slugged Geoff on the shoulder.

  “Please!” Geoffrey protested. “I had my sights trained on you before you realized I was there. Plus, I have the scatter gun. I wouldn’t have missed from that distance,” he said and held up his fancy tactical shotgun.

  The two kept one upping each other as they walked down the hallway. Megan took the milk and eggs from Clay then went back to work on dinner. Charlie, still bitter with Geoffrey for leaving, decided to make sure the batteries were fully charged for the night.

  The kids came out to see what all the commotion was about and saw Geoffrey standing in the lobby. Lona, Paige, and Maya knew Geoffrey from before. Tyler had only been part of the group for about a month before he left and barely remembered him. The rest of them had arrived afterwards but were still excited to meet him. They had all heard stories that included him, and now they had a face to go with the name.

  “Ten minutes!” Megan shouted from down the hall, “Go get cleaned up.”

  The kids stormed off and headed for the washroom to clean up from the day. Clay and Geoffrey sat down at the table in the kitchen and did their best to catch up, talking loudly as they competed against the shouting and horseplay nearby. Megan stood next to the table and chimed in when she wasn’t excusing herself to check on dinner.

  “Ruth sends her best,” Geoff said as he pulled two loaves of bread out of his bag. “They are fresh baked. Well, fresh when I left about a week ago, anyway.”

  Megan held the sourdough up to her face and squeezed it. The cracking sound was crisp and pronounced. A good bread sounded as good as it tasted.

  “You know what? Now that we have some more eggs, I think I’ll make some French toast in the morning,” she said with glee. She practically skipped over to the fridge and placed the loaves inside. She returned with some water for Clay and Geoff then went to serve dinner. Lona came in holding Bethany who was fading by the minute. It was already a half hour past her usual bedtime.

  “There’s the birthday girl!” Clay said as he got up to go hold her. “Are you excited for your special dinner?”

  Bethany looked around and saw everyone pouring into the room for the meal. She looked back at Clay and emphatically nodded which generated laughter around the room. Just then, Megan came back holding more plates than she should have been carrying.

  Everyone in the room was eager to dig in. The macaroni looked delicious; it reminded Clay of Thanksgiving with the family. And even more surprising was that it tasted every bit as good as it looked. With the exception of replacing the noodles with ramen, it looked almost exactly how the cookbook had presented it.

  Megan was a decent cook, especially given their present situation. But she was never into culinary arts before, at least not like her sisters. Michelle and Emily were always helping with dinner each night while Megan would study. Once their mother had died, Michelle took charge of preparing food for the family. Emily took the death of their mother the hardest and couldn’t bring herself to cook anymore. She never touched a pot or pan the rest of her life.

  Megan looked anxiously around the room as everyone ate, “Well, what do you think?”

  The kids all shouted their unanimous approval. That was no surprise to Megan since they liked just about anything she sat in front of them, especially when made with ingredients that hadn’t been pumped with chemicals to lengthen shelf life. She glanced over at Clay, seeking his endorsement.

  “It’s actually really good,” he said as he forked another bite into his mouth.

  She smiled and her shoulders dropped as she relaxed. It was always a big deal for her to have everything turn out perfectly for the birthday dinners; this had been her biggest success to date.

  “So,” Clay said as he chewed his food, “I guess you followed the recipe this time, huh?” He couldn’t help but to dish out some brotherly ribbing.

  Megan replied with a sour face and continued eating. They all ate their fill; there were no leftovers. When it was time for gifts, all signs of Bethany’s tiredness had faded away. She was energized by all the excitement in the room. The kids had all made crafts or drawings for her. Each one she giggled at and shook around with enthusiasm. Tyler was particularly excited to see her enjoy the toy car he had made from random materials he had found.

  Charlie looked over, and Clay nodded. He left the room and promptly returned with a shoebox. He walked up and placed the box in front of Bethany on the table. “Here you go, Bethany. Happy Birthday!”

  Entertained with the bright orange cardboard box, she hadn’t noticed she could open it too. Charlie, unable to resist the urge, reached over to start lifting the flap. Bethany caught on and flipped it up the rest of the way.

  She wrinkled her brows as she carefully studied the contents inside. “That!” she said excitedly and pointed at the toy.

  “Go ahead,” Charlie said. “It’s for you!”

  Bethany reached in and pulled out the small plush giraffe. She stared at its yellow, smiling face as she studied every fiber. Suddenly, she pulled it up to her chest and squeezed it tight. With a firm grip around the animal’s neck, she brought it up to her face as she sucked her thumb. Megan said it reminded her of Linus from Charlie Brown. Clay and Geoff were the only ones who understood the reference.

  The late dinner meant no playtime afterwards. Megan told the kids they had to go get ready for bed right away. They all said their goodnights to Clay and Geoff and scurried to bed. Clay and Geoff cleaned up the disaster the break room had become while Megan went through the bedtime rituals. Charlie, normally the first to volunteer to help, quietly slipped out of the room, which did not go unnoticed by Geoff.

  “So, what’s the deal with Charlie?” he asked. “He still seems pissed at me.”

  Clay shrugged, “He feels like you abandoned us.”

  Geoff was silent.

  “I tried to explain, but he just—he’s still a kid. He’ll understand why you left some day and realize you did what you needed to do,” Clay said.

  Geoff nodded and finished clearing the table. When Megan returned both of them could see the exhaustion written across her face. However, she had not seen Geoff in quite some time and knew he’d most likely be leaving in the morning. So she forced herself to stay awake while they continued to catch up.

  “Both of you sit down. I’ll finish cleaning tomorrow,” she insisted.

  They all sat down and sipped on some water.

  “So, what made you decide to up and walk all this way to pay us a visit?” Clay asked. “Did you hear Megan was actually going to cook a decent dinner?”

  Megan smacked his arm.

  Geoff let out a chuckle before responding. “Well, first of all I wanted to tell you guys in person that I am going to be a father.”

  Megan jumped out of her chair and squealed like she was in junior high. She clapped her hands rapidly and gave him a hug. The sudden outburst of excitement—a stark contradiction to her body language just seconds before—startled both Clay and Geoff.

  “Congratulations,” Clay said warmly, but in much more control of his emotions. “That’s great news!”

  “So how far along is she?” Megan asked.

  “The doc thinks about four months, but he can’t be entirely sure.”

  “Y’all have a doctor?” Clay chimed in.

  “He was Ruth’s mom’s doctor. He retired about a decade ago
and has a small plot of land about 10 miles west of us. He’s a good man; always willing to help. We try not to pester him with small issues, but obviously this is pretty big,” he said with a large grin, still in a bit of disbelief himself.

  Megan excused herself and went over to the fridge. She poured some water and came back with some flavor packets—the post-apocalyptic champagne. “It’s time to celebrate!”

  Clay and Megan toasted their old friend, and they all drank up. Megan stood up from the table and collected the cups. “I hate to do this, but I need to get some sleep. Geoffrey, it was so great seeing you, and I am so excited for you and Ruth! I hope to meet her one day.”

  “Hopefully sooner rather than later,” he replied.

  Megan smiled and congratulated him once again. “Goodnight, we’ll see ya in the morning,” she said as she walked out of the room.

  Geoff turned back to Clay. “Ya know,” he continued as if the conversation hadn’t been interrupted, “I’ve been talking with Ruth’s father and brothers recently. They know all about you and Megan, what you guys are doing for these kids. He wanted me to tell you that there is a nice little chunk of land with your name on it, should you be so inclined.”

  Clay was stunned. Such a generous offer from a man he had never met, a man that knew only what Geoff had told him. It was an offer he would love nothing more than to take, but it was far from a cut and dry situation.

  “Wow!” Clay replied, “I don’t really know what to say.”

  “You could say, ‘Sure, Geoff, I would love to come out there and own a piece of land that is as close to perfection as one can find in the world these days.’”

  “If only it were that simple. Northfield is what, 80 miles away?”

  “More like 90. And it is that simple. You guys move there, and we all get to hang out together again, like the good ol’ days.”

  Clay shook his head.

  “And to be honest, we could sure use the extra help too. Cliff is getting up there in age, and he hasn’t been the same since Ruth’s mom died. Her oldest brother, Michael, does what he can to help, but he took a bullet to the leg late last year and doesn’t get around too well anymore.” Geoff stopped for a moment to lean back in his chair. “I know this might sound like me asking for a favor, but it really isn’t my intention.”

  Clay knew it wasn’t some scheme to get extra work hands. If it had been anybody else, he might have been skeptical, but he knew that Geoff was true to his word when he said that. He was looking out for a friend, and he knew that Clay wasn’t the idle type, anyhow. He desired to work. The thought of resting all day rarely occurred to Clay. It was one of the most dreaded things about winter for him; there was never enough to do.

  The offer was indeed tempting seeing Watson’s ranch reaffirmed his desires to get out of the aging tower and move to a proper homestead where they wouldn’t have to worry about a rogue tremor toppling their home; a place where the kids could run around in an actual field instead of the rooftop jungle gym; a place where they could trade in their twelve-by-fifteen greenhouse for acres of crops; a proper fireplace and a wood burning stove didn’t sound all that bad either.

  Clay found himself daydreaming about such a life, but the logistics of his situation would not allow for him to just pick up and move, no matter how much he coveted the thought. Traveling that far on foot would take at least twice as long with the kids. It would take a half dozen or more trips just to transport their belongings, which was just an absurd thought. Many of their possessions would need to be left behind, something Clay was reluctant to do. And then, of course, there was Kelsey, who would be too far away for Clay to visit. Of all the excuses not to go, severing ties with her was near the top.

  Before Clay could reply, Geoff continued, “Just think about it, okay? Obviously, it’s not realistic to think that you could do that before winter anyway, so we can continue this conversation after the thaw. Sound good?”

  “Well, like you said nothing can happen between now and winter anyway, but…” he trailed off. Geoff gave Clay a hopeful look. “I’ll give it some serious thought.”

  That answer was satisfactory enough, and the two continued to talk long into the night. As the conversation closed down, Geoff engaged Clay about a different opportunity.

  “Do you still happen to have that Bulgarian beauty?” Geoff asked.

  “Yep,” Clay replied, “I attempted to trade it to Vlad a while back, but he wasn’t offering much for it. I tried selling him on the fact that it was a pre-ban AK47, but he said that 7.62x39 was just too hard to find anymore. I couldn’t really argue with him on that. I swear, though, I saw a tear rolling down his cheek when I left with it in my hand. Obviously, it’s a bit nostalgic for that ol’ Ruskie.”

  “Do you still use it?”

  “I believe you were living here the last time I fired that thing. It’s collecting dust in the armory. I like it, but without ammo, it has no practical use for me anymore.”

  Geoff lifted up his shotgun and placed it on the table, “Care to make a trade?”

  Clay looked at the small, unique shotgun lying in front of him. It was a KSG-12. It wasn’t exactly the flashiest looking shotgun, but the concept and design was nothing short of brilliant. It was around two feet long and had dual, side by side magazine tubes, allowing for seven in each tube. It was certainly a distinct design that others tried to imitate, but none were able to match its quality before it was banned.

  “Can I take a look?” Clay asked.

  “Go right ahead.”

  Clay picked it up and shouldered it, taking aim at an old corkboard that still had fair labor and discrimination posters tacked up. Shotguns were not really Clay’s thing but they were quite effective in close quarters battle. And having more than a dozen rounds of buckshot to hurl towards a hostile certainly gave it quite an edge over the typical break barrels most people had.

  “Why don’t you want it?” Clay asked.

  “It’s not so much that I don’t want it, but at this point, I would prefer having a nice battle rifle to use. I’ve come to learn that having a short barrel scatter gun out on a farm isn’t quite as useful as I thought it would be. Ruth’s father must have 10 or more long barrel shotguns, both pump and semi-auto.”

  “They don’t have any extra rifles?”

  “They have an extra SKS or two lying around, but it’s the cheap Chinese crap, not exactly something I want to trust my life to. Plus, I remember really loving that AK.”

  Clay thought about it for a moment, “So, what about ammo? Obviously, I don’t have any.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Geoff said. “Her dad and brothers all went in and bought a pallet full of spam cans before the import ban took effect back in 2015. They still have at least two dozen of those things lying around. Still sealed.”

  “All right,” Clay said. “It’s no use to me anymore, so let’s do it.”

  They got up and walked down the hall to the armory. Even though he didn’t like shotguns all that much, he was happy to help out a friend. Besides, as short and light as the KSG was, it could become a weapon to love. It was certainly more practical for him in the urban area than the common long 28 inch barrel shotguns, though most folks did saw them down to a much more manageable length.

  “Still four, twenty-nine, six?” Geoff asked.

  “Won’t be after tonight,” Clay said jokingly.

  “Just the way it was when I was in here last,” Geoff commented as he walked into the room. “Except there’s a lot less here,” he said gesturing over to the reloading bench.

  “Yeah. It’s been almost impossible to find components these days.”

  “I imagine everything’s drying up.”

  Clay nodded. He walked over to the wall and removed the AK-47 from the rack. He hadn’t lifted it up in probably two years or more; it had a nice weight to it. Unlike most AK-47s, it was a milled receiver, not stamped like most others. It felt more like an M4 than an AK-47, at least until the trigger was pulled. />
  He handed it to Geoff who immediately inspected it and looked through the iron sights a few times. “Yeah, let’s do this,” he said with a smile.

  Clay fished around some boxes for a few minutes and finally found the extra magazines. “I have three polymer mags, and four steel mags, plus the one that’s already in it.”

  “Perfect,” Geoff said.

  Clay picked up one of the magazines and saw it was loaded. There were only twelve rounds; it must have been his “just in case” magazine. He handed it to Geoff. “Well, hopefully you won’t need it, but at least you will have it in case you run into some trouble on your way home.”

  Geoff took the magazines and stuck them into his bag. He then reached his hand out, “Thanks, Clay.”

  Clay shook his hand, “Eh, it’s a pretty even trade, really.”

  “No, I mean thanks for—I guess I never thanked you for taking me in. You and Megan—if it hadn’t been for you two—I know I wouldn’t have made it much longer.”

  Clay was touched by the kind words, even a little choked up, but he didn’t want to show it, “You would have been fine. You had this slick shotgun and knew how to use it.”

  “Yeah, I never told you this but…I so didn’t have any ammo when we faced off against each other.”

  Clay laughed, but the fact was if it had been an aggressor instead of Clay, Geoff probably wouldn’t have survived that day. Clay quickly pushed that ‘what if’ scenario out of his mind and smiled at his old friend. “Likewise, Geoff. You helped this family out more than you’ll ever know.”

  There was an awkward moment when neither spoke a word, at which point, Geoff cleared his throat and deepened his voice, “So, uh, yeah man, back to guns and stuff.”

  Clay also deepened his voice, “Yeah, and beer and girls and stuff. Manly stuff!”

  It was humorous to them both that even though the world as they knew it had ended years ago, they still worried about sounding girly and getting emotional over conversations like that.

  It was silent again until Geoff spoke up, “I’ve actually never had a beer. You?”