As the Ash Fell

by AJ Powers

  Clay shook his head. “Even if I found one now, I don’t think I’d be drinking it.”

  They continued ribbing each other to compensate for the sappy moment they had just had and began to pack up. Clay sat the shotgun down on the reloading bench and made sure he didn’t miss any accessories that went to Geoff’s new gun.

  “Hey,” Geoff said to Clay as they were leaving the armory, his face serious, “I want you to think about my offer. I think you, Megan, and the kids would love it there.”

  “I told you I would…You nag.”

  “Night, bro,” Geoff said as he walked to his old room on the other side of the building.

  The next morning Geoff collected his things and headed home. He planned to make a pit stop in Liberty for the night and then finish the remainder of the journey, stopping wherever he could find a secure shelter. It was not an easy voyage even for an experienced traveler like Geoff. Clay knew it would be a nightmare to do that with several children. In fact, he wasn’t sure it could be done without severe risk. A fussy baby or a night terror is all it would take to attract a whole slew of Screamers.

  True to his word, though, he would think about it over the winter, but he knew it would be less thinking and more about trying to convince himself the reward outweighed the risk. Losing just one person during the journey would be completely unacceptable to Clay. With them having a safe enough setup already, he was struggling to find arguments for the move.

  Chapter 13

  “You’re late,” Kelsey said standing in the middle of the dark bay of an old fire station. She was bouncing on her tiptoes to combat the frigid morning temps.

  “Sorry,” Clay said with a hoarse voice, “Tyler was sick all night, the poor kid.”

  Kelsey was sympathetic. She knew what it was like to take care of a sick kid and was thankful that Dakota hadn’t been hit by anything this year except for the occasional sniffle. Kelsey found it endearing how much Clay cared for those kids. He never acted as if they were a burden, nor did he do the bare minimum just to get through the day. It was clear that they were very important to him. It was a remarkable quality for such a young man, especially with children that weren’t his own blood.

  “Are you ready?” Kelsey asked as she rubbed her hands together to try to generate some heat.

  “Let’s hit it.”

  The sun had just started to rise as they left, and twenty minutes later, it was bright enough to see the welt under her eye.

  “What happened?” Clay asked protectively.

  She reached up and tenderly touched her cheek, “What, this? Well, I guess you could say, ‘Angry colt: one, clumsy girl: zero’,” she said with a wry smile. “I’m fine, though. Don’t worry about it.

  Clay didn’t want to drop it, but he did.

  “So, where are we headed?” she asked.

  Clay hadn’t really thought about it. With Bethany’s birthday party, Geoff’s unexpected visit, and sick kids around the house, he hadn’t had time to plan out the trip like he normally would. They would just have to wing it even though it was not a good trip to play by ear; they both agreed it would be the last one of the season. It was nearing the end of September, and there had already been a couple of dustings of snow in the last week. The opportunities to scavenge were all but gone, and they both needed a good score to help them through the winter—especially Clay—as they were running a bit leaner on food than he had anticipated. Growing kids gradually start to consume more food, which was something Clay always forgot to take into account.

  “Honestly, I’m not sure. Any ideas?”

  “Well,” Kelsey said and thought for a moment, “let’s just start walking, and we’ll see where we end up.”

  Hardly a plan, but Clay didn’t have a better suggestion to offer. So they just continued walking the direction they were already headed. They walked by a few neighborhoods they had had some success with a couple weeks ago, but knew it was pretty skimpy to be spending much time there. They decided to keep going in search for some more fertile grounds.

  They eventually found themselves in an equestrian subdivision: a wealthy, gated community with half million dollar homes and several acres between houses. Though the dilapidated houses were slowly being reclaimed by nature, Clay could envision how it must have looked when it was filled with people. It was the kind of place he had desired to live in someday. Clay grew up on a small ranch with a little more than five acres. He loved his childhood home and missed it more every day, but he never wanted to have that kind of place for his family. He still wanted the privacy and land his old house had offered, but something more modern. The gated community he stood in had been the perfect balance.

  The neighborhood was a giant loop, 16 houses in all. Most of them had been trashed; a couple had even been burned down. There was something menacing about the neighborhood, though. Clay had spent the last several years wandering around a 200 square mile radius and had seen the exact same chaos time and time again: entire neighborhoods ransacked; businesses and shops looted; the stench of death never far away. It was all too common, yet there was something different about this place. As he thought about it more, the hair on his neck stood up. It felt as if the souls of the residents still dwelled there, trapped in a world that no longer existed. He didn’t believe in such things as ghosts, but he couldn’t shake the threatening vibe that was almost smothering him. The feeling got worse when he watched a tire swing swaying eerily in the breeze, kept together by just a few fraying strands. He looked over at Kelsey and could tell she was uncomfortable too.

  Clay and Kelsey spent the majority of the day carefully searching one home after another, taking about an hour to clear each house. They found small amounts of useful items here and there.

  As they approached a house about halfway through the neighborhood, they decided to call it quits for the day and claimed the house as their shelter for the night. The solid oak front door was wide open, the lock still intact. Whoever abandoned the house hadn’t bothered to lockup, allowing looters to walk right in.

  The inside was just as impressive as the outside: high vaulted ceilings, some places 20 feet high; hardwood floors throughout the first story except for a nice tile in the kitchen; a fireplace in the living room that acted as a dividing wall for the dining room so that both rooms could enjoy the crackling heat. It was beautifully designed. Clay was somewhat bitter that he would never get to enjoy such luxury.

  Just off the kitchen was a walk-in pantry that was larger than his childhood bedroom. It looked the same as every other pantry he had seen in the last several years. Barren.

  With not much luck downstairs, they wandered upstairs to continue their search and look for a place to hunker down for the night. As they reached the top of the stairs, they found themselves in a large, open room. Directly in the middle was a full-sized billiard table. A dusty cue ball sat atop the decaying green felt. Almost perfectly centered on the table, it felt as if it had been placed there intentionally.

  Clay walked into one of the bedrooms and saw the walls had nearly been covered with posters. Years of exposure to the elements from the broken windows had all but faded the water damaged images, but there was just enough visible to see that most of them were of the various branches of the military. Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines. All divisions were represented. It was common décor for a young boy’s room. Hanging just above the bed was a cracked picture frame. Inside was a letter signed by S.J. Eisenberg, Secretary of the Navy; next to the letter was an imprint of the Navy Cross, but the medal itself was absent. The letter was dated just three years before the eruptions. Clay guessed it had been written to the boy’s father.

  Under the bed, Clay found a shoebox with some toys in it: a few action figures—little green army men—and a few metal cars. Clay was excited with the find; the boys would have a great Christmas this year. He dumped the contents of the box into his pack and went to see how Kelsey was faring in the next room.

  He walked inside and was greeted by co
pious amounts of pink. It, too, had posters throughout, but in contrast to the other room, they were mostly of baby-faced ‘tween singers. There was a four-poster bed with a hanging fabric that was so tattered it looked more like a spider web than a bed canopy.

  Kelsey was leaning against the bed, but not quite sitting on it. She was looking at a fashion magazine and shaking her head. On the cover was a woman who was more Photoshop than human, one of those women who was in her 30s but still acted like a bratty 14 year old.

  “Can you believe the crap in here?” Kelsey said as she flung the magazine towards the wall.

  “Can’t say I’ve ever read one of those.”

  Kelsey was upset enough that she picked the magazine back up just so she could throw it again. “Lies,” she said. “It’s all lies. Telling little girls that in order to be beautiful you have to look like this, act like that, say these things… It’s garbage!”

  Clay could tell this was about more than just a magazine.

  “Sorry,” Kelsey said as she sat down on the bed. “My Aunt Cassandra was one of those people who had a monthly subscription to a half dozen magazines just like this.” She picked up another off the bedside table. “When I was a kid, she would enter me into beauty pageants, make me go to photo shoots on a monthly basis, and was constantly having me do auditions for commercials and TV shows.”

  Clay knew the type. A good friend of his from school had a mother just like that, though his friend didn’t seem to be bothered by it like Kelsey was; she liked the attention she got from it. He also saw how much it changed her before she had even gotten into junior high.

  “My mother never really cared much for the idea, but my aunt had her convinced that as soon as I landed my first modeling contract, the days of food stamps and public transportation would be behind them; it’d be nothing but limousines and fine wine. You know, the sweet life.” Kelsey sighed as she rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. “But as a result, I wasn’t allowed to just be a kid...By the time I was 10, I felt like I had a fulltime job on top of school.”

  “That’s rough,” Clay said compassionately.

  Even though what Kelsey’s aunt had done was deplorable, Clay could understand, from a vain worldview why Kelsey’s mother allowed it. Kelsey was stunning. Even as she stood in a decrepit room, her face covered with layers of dirt and soot; her hair pulled back; and wearing clothes that were stained six different colors, she was still gorgeous. Clay thought all she would need to do is run a comb through her hair, and she could be on the cover of that same magazine. He contemplated telling her that, but wasn’t sure if she would be flattered or annoyed with the comment.

  They eventually moved on to the master suite and quickly decided it would be home for the night. The master closet—which was the size of a small bedroom—would be the ideal spot. No windows would expose them to the cold, nor would their lantern draw attention from those who might be walking around outside. It also provided them with just one direction to cover. It was about as perfect a spot as they were going to find.

  Clay dragged the boy’s mattress into the closet and then fetched a few blankets. Kelsey lay down and drifted to sleep. Clay sat down on the floor and leaned his back against the wall opposite the door. He laid his rifle across his lap, ready to defend them on a moment’s notice. He did some reading by flashlight until it ran out of juice. Not wanting to wake Kelsey up from winding it back up, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

  Morning came, and they moved on to the next house in the neighborhood. Kelsey found a half-used tube of antiseptic ointment. Clay offered to trade her for it, but she gave it to him instead.

  “After all the things you’ve done for me, Clay, it’s the least I could do for you,” she told him.

  Clay was deeply appreciative of the kind gesture. That kind of generosity had all but gone away in the world. It was just another trait he admired about her.

  They finished searching the rest of the houses by early afternoon and decided to head back to the fire station. An hour or so after they left, they heard a distant rumble in the sky; a storm was heading their way.

  It was in the mid-40s, and the temperature seemed to be dropping by the hour. Being exposed to rain in temperatures like that could be deadly, especially when it would easily drop to freezing before midnight.

  Since they were heading straight into the storm, Clay stopped walking and pulled out a map and compass. After he got his bearings, he realized they were only a few miles from the cabin. They were nearly 10 miles from the fire station. The cabin would be going out of their way, but it would also be moving away from the storm. If they kept a decent pace, they might even get there before any rain fell.

  Clay pitched the idea to Kelsey, and she agreed it was probably the best option they had. He folded the map and placed it back in his bag before they moved out.

  The wind rapidly evolved from a light breeze to powerful gusts. The storm was closing in as they headed into the cabin’s neighborhood.

  About a mile or so from the cabin, Clay stopped dead in his tracks. Kelsey also stopped and looked back at Clay, then turned to see the pack of mangy, feral dogs in front of them. They were all past the point of starvation, their ribs clearly visible from 25 yards away. Clay and Kelsey remained frozen, as did the dogs. It was like a duel in the Old West. Who would flinch first?

  “Don’t move,” Clay whispered calmly.

  “Uh huh,” Kelsey said. Her heart was pounding.

  Clay ever so slowly moved his hand down to his side and eased his pistol out of the holster, never breaking his stare with the dogs.

  He could hear their growls from afar, a sound that shot fear through his body like a jolt of lightning. With their hackles raised and their bodies lowered, it was clear they would attack.

  “Get ready to take this from me,” he said and shifted his eyes towards the pistol.

  Kelsey barely nodded.

  As the dogs crept closer, the growling intensified, becoming more vicious, more desperate. It was time to act.

  “Now,” Clay said.

  He tossed the pistol up into the air, a decision he made at the last second that Kelsey had not been prepared for. The gun fell to the ground, and Kelsey scrambled to pick it up. The decision to toss the gun was calculated, and it paid off. The extra milliseconds he gained allowed Clay additional time to aim and fire his rifle, neutralizing the middle dog in three quick shots. The other two dogs broke away from their fallen friend and went opposite directions from each other. They both ran in a big circle and made their way back around towards Clay and Kelsey. Clay took aim at the dog on his side and opened fire. He shot eight times before he was able to catch the hindquarters. The dog spun around like a top. The canine tried to get up and continue with the attack but collapsed from the injury and began to wail.

  Clay heard gunshots to his right. Kelsey had been shooting the pistol but to no avail. She had emptied her magazine in a hurry with nothing to show for it. He swung his body around and found Kelsey was blocking his shot. “Kelsey, out of the way!” he shouted. She leapt to the side, and Clay shot multiple times. An unsteady hand combined with the dog’s movement made it a hard target. One of his rounds ricocheted off the ground and lodged into the dog’s gut. It wasn’t enough to stop the ravenous mongrel and it lunged at him.

  “Clay!” Kelsey shouted from a few feet away.

  The dog snapped at Clay and clamped down on his forearm. Clay grunted in pain but immediately pushed his arm further into the dog’s mouth causing it to break its grasp and stumble back. It made a second attempt to attack but was greeted by the tip of Clay’s boot. The dog yelped and fell to the ground. The animal wasted no time getting back to its feet and turned around for its final assault. But it was too late.

  A well-placed shot to the head dropped the dog immediately. Blood gushed from the wound causing Kelsey to turn her head away. Whimpering from one of the nearby challengers prompted Clay to retrieve his pistol from Kelsey. He changed out the magazines and
closed the slide. He walked up to the wounded pup who, moments ago, acted like Cujo, but now looked no more threatening than a puppy. The dog was panting heavily, its backside matted in blood. Clay felt sorry for the mutt. It wasn’t much more than skin and bones and just acting on instincts.

  He raised the pistol and promptly put it out of its misery. He probably did all three a favor by ending their desolation. It wasn’t the first time Clay had to kill a dog—the first being the family pooch, near the end of the second winter—but it was never a pleasant experience.

  Kelsey walked over and asked the question Clay had already asked himself, “Can you eat them?”

  “You can,” he said and then looked a bit more closely at the body, “but I wouldn’t take a chance on these three. They look to be a breeding ground for diseases. Plus, we wouldn’t get but maybe ten pounds of meat from all three of them. It’s just not worth the time or risk.”

  Kelsey nodded. “Are you okay?” she asked as she pointed to his arm. She felt guilty for not inquiring about his arm before asking about the food.

  Clay felt his arm and flinched, not realizing just how tender it was.

  “Are you bleeding?”

  “I don’t think so,” he said, uncertain if the dog had actually punctured skin or not. If it had, he was probably as good as dead, but that was a problem to deal with later.

  Clay felt a drop of rain hit his face, and the wind picked up even more. He looked up at the sky and knew there wasn’t much time.

  “Take two minutes and help me pick up all the shells you can, then we need to go. Let’s hurry!”

  They found about half the shells and then jogged the last stretch to the cabin. The rain began to increase over the last quarter mile, getting them just wet enough to give them chills, but not completely soak them.

  They reached the cabin, and Clay lifted up the heavy mat in the garage and then opened the door in the floor. He motioned for Kelsey to go through and then followed her.