Exchange Rate

by Bonnie R. Paulson

  I imagined a great symphony played a wedding march for me to step to as I walked up the small path to meet my future husband and his father under the frame of aspens. I stepped carefully to a slow beat in my head, gripping the stems of wild grasses, pine cones, and late season sunflowers I’d arranged into a bouquet.

  The dress fit loose enough I could wear a pair of tights under them with my boots. A slight brisk breeze sent goose bumps over my arms. I’d left my jacket at the trail head with my trusty fanny pack. Everything else we’d left behind at camp about a mile back. John and Bodey had set up the wedding site and John had retrieved me not long after.

  I thought I’d be nervous, but only excitement hitched my breathing. Only excitement gave a fun spin to my heart rate.

  Bodey hadn’t dressed differently. He’d spent so much time and energy finding my dress, his own attire had been abandoned. But I didn’t care. He looked amazing to me. He’d combed his hair back, the dark blond and his tan enhancing the blue of his gaze as he watched me walk closer and closer.

  Our hands reached out and as fast as that we were connected. I stepped in front of him and couldn’t look away. How could I be so blessed to have him? He gave me value.

  “Well, you two, you found each other when the world fell apart and now you’re together making your own world. We have a family and we hold tight to each other. Did you write your vows?” John lifted the Bible between us and we placed our right hand on the cover.

  I bit my lip, glancing at John for a nod I should go first. He obliged, his smile encouraging. I blew a nervous breath out and met Bodey’s gaze. “I’ve always cared for you. But being with you every day has let that grow to love. I’m so happy to have you in my life. Thank you for loving me and taking me in. You’re the best thing to happen to me and I promise to honor you... longer than we both will live.” I couldn’t say anything about dying. Death didn’t fit in with my love for him. Didn’t fit into that day.

  My eloquence wasn’t much. I blushed at the briefness of my vows.

  Bodey squeezed my fingers in his. “My turn. I’ve always loved you, even when there were so many others around. I knew when I saw you that first time you were meant to be mine. I just never had the courage to ask you out. And then bombs fell and you came to me. Even as we run, Kelly, I promise to stay by your side and protect you. Even if you don’t want me to.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I love you.” He looked at his dad, his grip tightened on my hand. “Can we be married now?”

  John chuckled. “Yes, you can be married.” He waved. “You may now kiss the bride, even though I’m surprised you waited that long, to be honest.”

  Bodey pulled me into his arms before his dad finished talking.

  Our lips met for the first time as husband and wife. There might not have been any lawmakers or law-keepers around, but with John as the leader of our group, if he acknowledged the joining and Bodey and I believed in the ceremony, there was nothing and nobody to say we weren’t married.

  We’d gotten married on my birthday. The best present to myself I couldn’t have planned better.

  My husband. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so lonely anymore.

  ~~~

  John walked ahead of us a few feet, his head bent. Our campsite wasn’t far away and he’d offered to lead the way, jokingly suggesting that he could pretend to be a chauffeur to our walk. We’d laughed.

  I tossed my bouquet behind Bodey and me. No one would catch the carefully prepared flowers, but I could pretend. We giggled.

  “I can’t believe we’re married.” I couldn’t. Married. I was nineteen. I’d always planned on college at nineteen, not married. At least I wasn’t pregnant, too. But I wasn’t even concerned that I could get pregnant. With little enough fat on my body to produce a period for over a year, it just didn’t seem feasible that my body would allow me to create another thing to feed.

  Stopping abruptly, John motioned for us to stop. He held his finger to his lips. Pointing toward the sky, John directed our attention toward a plume of black and gray smoke drifting peacefully into the air. The fire wasn’t far ahead of us. In fact, if I was any good at judging distances, I would say it was roughly the distance to our camp.

  Our smiles faded and dread stiffened our muscles. John shook his head and pointed toward a grouping of bushes and trees for us to hide in. He always made us hide, never letting us help. He had to know he wasn’t invincible, right?

  Bodey grasped my arm and shoved me toward the spot. He wasn’t rough, just worried. Tucking me between the branches and trunks, he turned, joining his dad who glared at his arrival. Bodey shrugged. I loved that he wouldn’t let his dad go alone.

  They disappeared down the trail, not giving me a second look. I waited, counting to twenty before slipping back onto the trail and following them. What if something happened and I wasn’t there to help or I missed everything and I waited in those dang bushes forever? I’d be hanged before I’d allow myself to be a widow after only a few minutes.

  I pulled my fanny pack from my shoulder where I’d slung the strap like a purse. Clipping the pack around my waist, I squeezed my mom’s Bible from the canvas exterior. I’d given John my guns so long ago and only carried a knife. We had very little ammunition and he’d been carrying for the wedding, confident we wouldn’t need anything for the small amount of time necessary for the ceremony.

  Nothing was worse than when John was wrong.

  I came upon our camp site faster than I thought I would.

  Hazy smoke drifted through the trees and lent a faded look to the surrounding scenery. The closer I got to the site, the thicker the haze became. And suddenly there it was.

  The dying fire licked at the remains of blankets, backpacks, canteens, and clothing. Everything we’d saved and carefully collected for almost a year and a half blew away in the wind or sifted to the ground as ash.

  Stumbling past the tree line in disbelief, I thrust my jaw to the side, breathless. Could we save anything? Had everything been destroyed? I shoved my knuckles against my teeth, certain if I didn’t plug my mouth, a keening undertone would turn into a shriek and end the peaceful quiet of worlds burning.

  Bodey pulled me against his chest and I welcomed the dark, trying to unsee the damage to our makeshift home in my mind’s eye. But devastation branded itself on my memory. All I had left of anything was in my fanny pack and it wasn’t much.

  Bodey and John had even less.

  We’d left everything.

  And returned with nothing but each other.

  John didn’t waste time. He searched the site for anything salvageable, turning over metal racks with sticks to avoid getting burned and kicked over rocks. Shaking his head, he pointed back the way we came.

  I didn’t want to walk backwards. There was nothing for us that way. Just like there was nothing for us anywhere.

  We followed, because that’s what we did.

  John abandoned the trail, leading us deeper into the woods, veering off to the right for about a hundred paces, and then looping to the left. After multiple turns which made me dizzy trying to keep track, he finally stopped and plopped onto a large flat boulder. He rubbed his eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry that happened today of all days, guys.”

  Bodey sat beside him, nodding. “It’s okay. At least it’s memorable, right, Kel?”

  Right like he wanted me to agree with him so we didn’t stress John out more? Or right like he really wanted me to be optimistic about losing everything?

  I answered with a slight nod, not sure what I was agreeing to. The smoke had burned my throat and eyes, and using them stung. The devastating drop in emotions created a dizzying spin and I sat on the ground. To keep some of the whiteness of my dress safe, I pulled up the skirt and sat on the rear of my tights. If I didn’t have those, I’d be pretty cold pretty quick.

  “Now what?” I couldn’t help asking. I needed a plan and John was our strategist.

  “Aren’t you curious about what happened?” John crossed his arms, rubbing
at his elbows.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know that it’s a mystery. Somehow Charlie’s gang found us, right? Who else would do something so wrong?” Other people would steal or trade, not blatantly destroy such a collection of valuable resources.

  “I’m not sure, but I think it’s a great opportunity to start fresh.” John stood, bending low to stretch his quads.

  “Start fresh? Dad, it took us months to gather those items. Just the basics came with what you packed. We lost so much.” Bodey squatted beside a tree, hanging his hands between his knees and bowing his head. The picture of defeat. I’d never pictured him as anything other than optimistic.

  John moved to one knee beside his boy. “Bodey, this really is a good thing. Our load was getting too heavy. We can go further with less.” Further for what? Did he really think after so long we were going to find his wife and daughter? Every place we stopped, he checked for evidence.

  We were going to get cold fast. Night would be upon us and then we’d freeze. The dress was pretty but not worth more than looks.

  Bodey stood, dusting off his pants. He attempted a smile, achieving only a faint shadow of one. “Okay, what do we do? Where are we going?”

  “Let’s go to the Scoggins’ place. They’ll be more receptive to our sudden appearance.” John held his hand to me. “Come on, Kelly. This really is a good thing.” He patted my shoulder as I joined them.

  We’d met the Scoggins, an off-grid family, shortly after fleeing John’s place. They didn’t have any preconceived notions about anyone and gave everyone a fair shot before displaying their extensive knowledge in either weapons or stockpiling – depending on which side you needed to see. Fortunately for us, we were invited into their world-saving experience and learned more than I ever wanted to know about how to can things and check for spoilage.

  Friends came and went – died or disappeared – and some you couldn’t wait to see again. The Scoggins had been a constant, something very rare in that time. But as with everything lately, you didn’t stay with people who’d prepped well before the fallout, because then you felt like a freeloader. Someone who sponged off others wasn’t a person to be trusted.

  I had my doubts, but John had been right about most things so far.

  Hiking three miles over rough terrain without the steady weight of my backpack threw me off. The distance moved too fast and we stood outside the Scoggins’ cabin in over an hour but felt more like minutes.

  John knocked on their front door. The curtains had been drawn long ago. I don’t remember ever seeing someone waiting outside or any of their kids playing in the dirt by their front porch.

  Bodey and I sidled up to stand behind John as he waited for them to answer the door.

  A long moment passed. Another. A curtain flickered from the windowsill in an upstairs room. Thundering footsteps pounded down the stairs and Mike Scoggin threw open the door. “John! Bodey and Kelly! Look at you guys. Just in time.” He peered behind us, then ushered us into the foyer.

  “Just in time? What’s going on?” John closed the door, scratching at his beard and watching Mike.

  “We’re heading down past Coeur d’Alene. There’s a community opening up for more citizens along Fourth of July pass. There’s room for more and we’re ready.” He wrapped his arms around John and squeezed. “Good to see you, buddy.” Tears sparkled in his gray eyes.

  “Wow, really? That seems sudden.” John moved into the front room and sat on the couch, folding his hands between his knees. He watched Bodey and I cross the floor and join him, then he turned his attention toward Mike.

  “You’re heading to Bayview, aren’t you? Simon Phahn said you might.” Mike nodded curtly, his eyes dark. Work-worn hands dangled at his sides as he fought to focus on us.

  “Yeah, Simon is good people. Last time we were in the area, he’d found me at our camp, said if we ever needed a place to stay, to stop by his town.” John glanced around, then he paused before speaking again, listening while looking up at the ceiling. “Where is everyone? It’s so quiet.”

  Mike walked slowly to the couch opposite us and fell to the cushions like weight pushed him down from above. He shook his head, dark shadows under his eyes. “It’s just me and Mary, now. The kids...” He swallowed and tears coursed down his cheeks. “The community doesn’t allow children, but that’s not a problem anymore.” His words ended as he choked on emotion.

  “Did someone...” John’s horrified expression filled me with dread. Who would kill sweet kids like the Scoggins’?

  “No. I could even handle that, you know? I would have someone to blame.” Mike shuddered. “No. They just... They both... So stupid, but we weren’t watching and they got into the rat poisoning and thought it was candy or something. I’m not even sure. So little. We couldn’t do anything. Even if we knew what to do. We don’t have the capabilities to pump stomachs or anything. The charcoal didn’t work. Nothing worked. They just...”

  Horrified, I covered my mouth. The Scoggins children had been six and four and the smartest kids I’d ever met. But they were children. If they didn’t know the difference between the crystal candy and the crystal poison...

  Their death burned more than it should have. Disconnected from my things burning and my marriage day, I couldn’t react to the loss like I should but allowed the burning grief to smolder and simmer beneath the surface. Maybe part of me couldn’t accept that such terrific kids would be dead. At least not that day.

  John rushed to Mike’s side and swung an arm over his shoulders. “Oh, man, Mike. Oh, man, I’m so sorry.” The two dads cried together, their chests shaking and the sobs quiet but intimate.

  Bodey claimed my hand, tracing my knuckles. He didn’t watch John and Mike, but stared at the ground, giving as much privacy as possible.

  I watched his fingers dancing over my skin. The fragility of life couldn’t have been more real in that moment. We could die at any moment for any reason. At least we’d been married. At least I had my Bodey and he had me. Soon, and hopefully before we died, we would have a chance to be together. I leaned my head against his shoulder and held my gaze downcast.

  The moment of grief faded into a comfortable silence. Mike had needed someone to mourn with him, understand him, maybe even understand he hadn’t done anything wrong and couldn’t do anything to save them.

  “Are you and Mary okay?” John lifted up to sit beside Mike on the vinyl covered cushion.

  Mike wiped at his cheeks, skin scratching on rough whiskers. He shrugged. “What’s okay? Man, we’re going nuts here. Nobody to talk to but ourselves. Mary’s been muttering to herself for a while now. I think she’s losing it. We need to be around people. This is... it’s not something all of our preparations could’ve prevented, you know? We could’ve locked up the poison, sure, but we were having problems before... before...” He avoided John’s eyes.

  “Okay, yeah, I can imagine.” John glanced in our direction. He’d mentioned a few weeks back we might be more grateful for our nomadic lifestyle someday. We hadn’t seen the plus sides then, but sitting there in Mike’s living room, I could appreciate the opportunity we’d had to move around and meet other people, even when some of those people tried to kill us. I mean, seriously, not everyone’s perfect.

  Too much loss dragged at me and I could feel my reverence for the situation slipping. A large part of me wanted to turn to Bodey and make out with him, make him feel as alive as I needed to feel. Another part of me wanted to start cracking jokes and be silly, because I hadn’t laughed in so long. What if I couldn’t remember how?

  What if so much our humanity leached away as we struggled to say alive?

  “Mike, what kind of a community is down that way?” I had to know and he seemed to want to talk like loneliness ate at him.

  His eyes brightened and he leaned forward. “The rumors are that once you go in, you don’t want to come out. Every weekend, they shine lights through the entire night. Lights! They have electricity. And music? I heard they have band
s playing which means they might have dancing.” Mike focused on his fingers for a minute. “Mary loves dancing. Maybe...” He shrugged. “But no children are allowed. They can’t be. I don’t know. A rumor? An unsafe rumor? But maybe...” He stared at the grains of the floor, grief twisting his features.

  Electricity and music? Could it be? “Who’s running the place? Are things getting back to normal?” I couldn’t hide my hope. What would I give for fifteen minutes of comfort? A bed? A bath? A toilet? A microwave?

  “I’m not sure on either account, but I do know they have fences and they have laws and people don’t want to leave.” That seemed good enough for him, that people wanted to stay. So many stories matched mine – where people got to where they thought they’d be safest at the end and wanted to leave. Nothing was as it was supposed to be.

  A place where you didn’t want to leave? Could I imagine such a place? Only if it felt safe, comfortable, even some convenience. What would I give up for those things?

  I didn’t have much to give up, so I guessed I’d give up everything. “I’d love a place like that, if it were real.”

  John glanced at me sharply, then back to Mike. “When are you leaving?”

  “This evening. It’s a sixteen hour hike on log roads through the woods. Most likely, we’ll take two days. Mary can’t walk that long in one go. So, we’ll make camp somewhere along Fernan before finishing our trek.” His eyebrows raised and he grabbed John’s arm. “Come with us. We could make a good go of it. A community, John, it could be like before.”

  The magical word you said with more reverence than God.

  Before.

  Before.

  Before the bombs and the loss of home and loved ones. Dare Before even mean before the sickness and the complete lack of control? The chaos which divided so many? Was it okay to want to go back in time to Before? Or was that being pessimistic? Would thinking like that put me in the place Mike and Mary had reached, where nothing but escaping my safety net would help me?

  “You know, it sounds awesome, but the kids just got married. I was thinking maybe they could have a night where they don’t have pressures on them, you know? We lost all of our things in a fire.” John tempered the good news with our loss, so Mike would be forced to acknowledge both but with more pity than joy. I’d used the technique on my mom a few times before. Like telling her the good news and the bad so they kind of canceled themselves out.