Sol Survivors

by Benton, Ken

  “As I said, Parker, I need to inventory everything and determine our own consumption needs, plus work out items I’d be interested in trading for.”

  “Of course.” Parker made a note on his clipboard and apologized. Shortly after that Joel walked him out, returning when Jessie and Archer were elbows deep cleaning the dishes. Jessie stopped what she was doing and followed Joel back to the table.

  “Joel,” she said, “that was nice of you. You know I don’t like guns. But I understand they are useful for hunting, and maybe even for protection in extreme situations. I think you probably have too many, and are much too prone to grab one every time a cricket so much as chirps, but I appreciate the fact at least you don’t have any of those totally evil assault rifles.”

  “Thanks, I guess.” Joel’s face twisted in an amusing way. “By the way, that term is improper, and was invented by political lobbyists.”

  “What term? Assault rifle?”

  “Yes. There is not a product, or even a category of products, which uses that label.”

  “Yes there is,” Jessie said. “Those machine gun things crazy people on the news are always using to kill crowds of innocent people with. What are they called, AR-16s?”

  “AR-15s.”

  “Right.” Jessie nodded. “Assault rifles.”

  “That’s not what the AR stands for. I just thought you might want to know, as any gun enthusiast you happen to talk to won’t appreciate the term. In fact it irks most of them, because of its political origin.”

  “What does it stand for, then? Automatic rifle? Anyway, you know darn well the label fits.”

  “The AR stands for the company name that first made the model. Something like ArmaLite Rifle, that’s all.”

  “Whatever,” Jessie snorted.

  “I must admit it does sound like an uncomfortable coincidence,” Debra said before draining her coffee mug.

  “Right?” Jessie replied. “Regardless of where it came from, we all know it’s a popular term that accurately describes the usage of those horrible things. No one who doesn’t want to commit mass murder has any need of one.”

  Joel held up a finger. “I actually agree with that in philosophy, for the most part. They aren’t very sporting. And civilians have no inherent need for high-capacity semi-automatic rifles which fire high-velocity rounds, other than to protect themselves from bad guys who own them. Even if they are cool to shoot.”

  “Thank you, Joel.” Jessie glanced out the window at the fading daylight. “I think I’d like to see the barbecue pit you made so much noise digging this morning.”

  Everyone followed Jessie outside. Sammy went last, after Archer and Mick, personally noting that Joel never actually stated he didn’t own an AR-15. They all gathered around the still smoldering wood pit on the side of the cabin. The northern lights were in the process of stretching out another full display, but there was not as much blue as the last two nights, which Debra seemed to think was a good omen.

  “Lot of meat left on this,” Mick said poking at the pig.

  Sammy laughed. “He’s right. What are we going to do with it, boss? It’s too hot to move still, and you’re turning the refrigerator off when, day after tomorrow?”

  Joel scratched his chin. “We’re looking at breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the next two days, folks. Let’s slice up the best parts, douse the coals, and bury the carcass in the pit. Can’t leave it out for the foxes and coyotes.”

  He then looked up. “We better hurry, though, to get done before it gets too dark.”

  Mick and Debra went back inside to get a knife and Tupperware. Sammy noticed Jessie and Archer coming more to life the more the sun set. He also thought he saw Archer give Joel a perplexed look at his mentioning of wanting to get inside before dark.

  Joel stepped next to Sammy and asked in a confidential tone, “What did you make of Parker?”

  Sammy thought for a second. “Well, if he was a customer on the lot, I would have called his walk-off bluff and not come down from asking price much.”

  “Yep.” Joel nodded. “He came across as a little pushy, but should be easy to negotiate with. I think I’ll go over to the Bronson’s tomorrow and see what they have to say.”

  “What a great idea,” Jessie butt in. “Joel, I want you to know how proud I am of you making friends with neighbors now, instead of making more enemies. And inviting them in for dinner! That’s the kind of neighborhood—and world—we should live in.”

  “Parker wasn’t the only neighbor he invited to dinner,” Sammy said.

  “Oh?” Jessie asked.

  Sammy ignored Joel’s glare. “He also invited the bad neighbors across the back fence.”

  “Sammy…” Joel said shaking his head.

  Jessie skipped up next to him. “Joel! You did? Is he serious?”

  “He did,” Sammy said with a smirk.

  Jessie turned to Sammy. “Why didn’t they come?”

  “The one he extended the invitation to mumbled something about it being too early a time for them.”

  “Oh my gosh!” Jessie turned back to Joel. “Why didn’t we wait for them and eat later, then?”

  “Why would we do that?” Joel asked. “We need to get everything cleaned up by dark, so we get used to—”

  “Whatever for?” Jessie said. “I think we eat too early, too.”

  Mick and Debra returned. Jessie couldn’t get the knife away from Mick and a Tupperware container away from Debra fast enough.

  “Where is the best part?” she asked kneeling at the hog on the spit.

  “The shoulder or lower back, why?” Joel responded. “What are you doing, Jessie?”

  “I’m taking some over to them, silly!”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Yes I am! Joel, you are making progress but you still have a ways to go. You know there is too much here for us, anyway.”

  “Jessie, those people are crass and potentially dangerous, and it’s getting dark. Parker even mentioned they’re unfriendly. I’m not going there.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Archer volunteered.

  “Am I doing this right?” Jessie asked.

  “That’s the shoulder he was shot in,” Archer replied, avoiding hard stares from both Debra and Joel. “There may be shotgun pellets in that part which need to be removed, so not the best gift meat.”

  “Joel, you should have told me that!” Jessie hovered over the remaining meat on the opposite shoulder a moment before deciding to have a go at the rump. “They obviously aren’t unfriendly if the only reason they turned down your invitation was because of the time. This is the right thing to do, and will go a long ways towards making amends for the bad blood you guys started yesterday.”

  Joel opened his mouth as if to continue arguing, but appeared to change his mind before the words came out.

  “So you’re only going to drop off the food, and then come back?”

  “Maybe.” Jessie shrugged. “Unless they invite us to stick around. Who knows?”

  “Take a shotgun and a flashlight,” Joel said.

  “Joel, we’re not taking any guns with us to visit a neighbor!”

  “Then you’re not going. What is it with you two and this night owl thing, anyway? Up half the night and sleeping all day? You can’t be forming these bad habits. You know I’m shutting the power off in two days.”

  “The night is the good time,” Jessie replied. “Just ask Archer or Debra about the sun, and how bad it’s become. Haven’t you seen our sunburns? Why do you want to expose yourself to that?”

  “Because daytime is when things get done.” Joel began making hand motions. “It’s when we have light and warmth. No one else but you and Archer are sunburned. Wear protective clothing and use a little sunscreen. Nighttime is for sleeping! Nocturnal animals come out. Hell, you already got bit by one. And there are other critters nastier than hogs. Venomous snakes, rats, large possums, coyotes, bobcats, skunks—even bears are known to live not far from here.”

>   Sammy watched Debra’s facial expressions and body language during Joel’s tirade. She never said another word, but undoubtedly agreed with everything he was saying. Archer would not maintain eye contact with her for more than a second or two at a time.

  In the end, Archer agreed to take a shotgun. By the time they walked off down the driveway, it was dark enough to only see them by the flashlight beam. Sammy found it surprising Joel let them go at all. But, his woman clearly picked a battle she was willing to stake the domestic tranquility of the entire house on. Joel had to consider that. Plus she did make a good point about healing a marred relationship with an uncomfortably close neighbor. And maybe the stress from the things that happened on the road weakened Joel’s inclination to protect Jessie a tiny smidge.

  Debra stood with her arms crossed to watch them leave. A growing coldness between her and Archer could be felt every bit as much as the strife between Joel and Jessie. Sammy caught himself entertaining fantasies of Debra becoming an available single woman in the house which he was staying. But he’d have some maneuvering to do, as he was the one who’d had the least interaction with her so far.

  The remaining four of them finished up with the pork carving and carcass burial. They all showed signs of relief upon getting back inside. Sammy gazed out the window awhile in addled curiosity before retiring. There really was something about this new nighttime that felt foreign and unwelcoming—if not downright hostile.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The three men sitting around the table made no objections to anything Joel suggested. To receive such unhesitant support from mere acquaintances on matters which greatly affected them struck Joel as too unexpected to be real. So instead of being satisfied at their acceptance of him as heir apparent neighborhood dictator, he became suspicious.

  Not because Joel felt any of these three men were untrustworthy. Joel and Sammy had become masters of character assessment over the years. They made a game of it, perhaps for no reason other than to breathe some degree of art or science into what was ultimately a profession void of art and science.

  Where was Sammy, anyway? He came here with Joel, but showed no interest in the discussion and sat away from the table, in a spot that was now vacant. He must have wandered outside. That didn’t seem like him at all.

  The most assertive of the three also happened to be the one Joel recognized the most. Bronson was his name. Bronson was big on theory. He tended to categorize everything into neat compartments which fit his theories. When he spoke of the Dunn house, for instance, he referred to the occupants as if part of a larger community somewhere, and was more interested in speculating on the trends of that community than solving a pressing neighborhood problem.

  Maddock, on the other hand, was more prone towards practical solutions. He applauded Joel’s turning of the signpost, and encouraged him to do whatever he could to make his address harder to find by unwanted visitors—which, of course, would make all three of their addresses harder to find. Something about Maddock bothered Joel today, though. He seemed to take on a starkly different appearance in the full light of day. What was his first name again? Parker? Joel suddenly couldn’t remember if that was correct.

  The third man at the table, whom Joel had never met before, was harder to figure out. He spoke mysteriously, especially about matters of the sun, the solar storm, and the aurora borealis at night. But his movements were slow and sleepy as if he were recovering from a stroke. Of the three, he was the only one wearing clothes not frightfully mismatched. That was because his clothing was all one long, flowing robe. Come to think of it, that was quirky, too.

  Joel decided it was time to go, so pushed to get down to the important business: that of signing the contract he brought with him. But before he could get any of them to accept his pen, they all turned into cargo ships, swaying in the gentle swells outside a busy shipping port somewhere.

  At Joel’s insistence that they turn back into men and sign the contract, the three ships began talking to each other, not in words now but in the blasts of deep and wonderful ship horns.

  Joel woke up. The first thing he became aware of was an owl hooting outside somewhere in the gray light of predawn.

  The second thing he became aware of was the fact he was still alone.

  Un-freaking-real. Did those two really stay up all night again? A better question was did they ever make it home? And what if they didn’t? What was Joel supposed to do? He’d have to go back over to that damn place, where the old guy had made it clear he was not welcome, to inquire of them. And he sure wasn’t going unarmed. The second time people who do not like each other meet wielding firearms greatly increases the chances of those firearms discharging.

  Joel strained his ear for voices. Please, please be some voices in the house.

  He heard something. It was faint, but sounded like Jessie’s giggle. Then nothing. But then something that sounded like Archer’s voice, also faint, in a more serious tone as if he were admonishing her.

  Joel threw the blanket off and reluctantly stood to put on a pair of sweats. More voices, not as faint this time.

  But not coming from the living room.

  Joel pulled the blinds away from the bedroom window to see two figures through the trees approaching, about halfway up the driveway. In the gray mist he could not clearly focus, but the outline of their familiar forms confirmed their identities.

  Joel hurried to finish dressing so he could meet them outside before they reached the porch, in an effort not to wake everyone should he find Jessie in need of severe reprimanding. He wasn’t sure what she could possibly have done that was worse than what he already knew about, and could likely surmise, but knowing her lately she probably found something.

  As it turned out, she did. In greeting them at the head of the driveway, it didn’t take long to learn they’d spent the entire night at that Dunn property, and were just now coming home to go to bed. While Joel wasn’t fully shocked, the actuality of seeing it happen still jolted his nerves. His girlfriend wasn’t the woman he thought he knew. In fact, at this moment she was no longer someone he even wished to call his girlfriend. And it was becoming difficult to envision a set of circumstances capable of reversing that verdict.

  “They’re very nice, Joel. You have them all wrong.”

  As Joel stared back at them both, unsure of the words or volume he should use in conjuring a response, or even if he cared enough at this point to get angry, another unforgiving realization hit him—one that eclipsed everything else.

  Their hands were empty.

  “Where is my 870?” Joel said in a cool, even voice.

  “What?” Jessie asked.

  “Where is my Remington 870?”

  Archer snapped his fingers. “The shotgun.” He looked at Jessie. “We forgot to bring it back. And the flashlight.”

  Joel pointed down the driveway. “Go get them both.”

  Jessie looked at the lightening sky and frowned. “We’ll go back and get them tonight. You can come with us.”

  Joel shook his head. “No. Now.”

  “The sun is going to rise, Joel.”

  “What does that have to do with anything? And I don’t care. I want those items back, especially that shotgun, before anything happens to them. This is serious.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to them. You need to listen to me once in a while. The Dunns are good people. If you must have your precious gun back right this minute, go get it yourself. I’m going to bed.”

  Jessie managed to slip past him, but Joel blocked Archer’s path.

  “Let’s go,” Joel said. “You take me.”

  “I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” Archer replied.

  “Why not?”

  “Because they are like Jessie and me.”

  “Foolish and inconsiderate?”

  Archer scowled for a second, but then nodded.

  “I understand why it appears that way to you, Joel. And to the rest of you who aren’t affected by the depleted
ozone layer. The people at that house, both the residents and guests, are all sensitive to the new sun like Jessie and I are. When we left, they locked everything up to go to bed. It shouldn’t be any problem to get the shotgun and flashlight from them at dusk tonight, especially if we bring more pork. I doubt they even realize we left them in the coat closet.”

  Joel reached to grab Archer’s bicep. “If they are just now going to bed, there’s time to rouse them if we hurry and knock loudly.”

  “Please, I can’t,” Archer said twisting away from his grip.

  “What do you mean, you can’t? Archer, tell me what the hell is going on with you two.”

  “Like Jessie said, the sun is rising and I’m afraid to get caught outside.”

  “You sound insane,” Joel said. “Do you hear yourself? Like you are afraid you will turn to dust if sunlight hits you. Archer…”

  “It’s like that,” Archer confessed. “It really is like that. I can’t explain it, but I am fearful of the sunlight. Even indirect sunlight. So is Jessie, and so is everyone at that house. And it’s getting worse every day, for all of us. I promise to return your shotgun within 24 hours, and I put up my rifle as collateral.”

  “With one box of ammo of an unpopular caliber, your rifle has little current value.”

  “And my truck,” Archer added. “You were interested in it, right? I’ll sign the title over right now. Just please let me go in and go to bed.”

  Joel then did something he never would have imagined himself doing a few seconds ago. He yielded to Archer’s groveling, releasing him to his pathetic yearnings. He did not make Archer sign the title of the truck over first. The man was genuinely severely agitated at the prospect of remaining outside.

  Dumbfounded, Joel walked over to Archer’s truck to eyeball his new possession. He still had two additional shotguns, counting the blunderbuss. The Remington had been his least favorite, even if Debra used it to put their first self-sufficient meal on the table. He never expected to see it again.