The Last Orphans

by N.W. Harris

  Shane parked the truck in the fire lane next to the gym. He climbed out and gazed around the parking lot. He recognized several of the cars, including Aaron Morris’ topless old Jeep. It hurt to look at the rust-colored vehicle. If Aaron were at the school, Shane would have to tell him what happened to his mother. He lowered the Ranger’s tailgate, lifting James and Sara to the ground. The two older, silent boys climbed out, and they all looked up at him as if waiting to be told what to do.

  Kelly slid Nat out and held her cradled in her arms, the traumatized little girl never waking up in the process. Shane glanced around at the small entourage, their glum expressions as hard to endure as all the death he’d seen in the last few hours.

  “Well, let’s take a look inside,” he said, walking toward the school with the others in tow.

  The gym door squeaked when he opened it. Shane held his breath, eager to find adults who knew what was going on and would be able to take care of the children he’d picked up. If there were some alive here, then it could mean others had survived—his dad might still be alive. At least fifty kids of all ages mingling on the basketball court and sitting in the bleachers stopped talking and turned their faces toward him. Shane paused, scanning the room. Many of them had red eyes, and several had fresh tears on their cheeks. A wave of grumbles erupted across the gym, and the kids returned to their hushed conversations or lowered their faces back into their hands and continued to weep.

  “They were probably hoping for an adult,” Kelly observed. She’d slipped up beside him.

  “Shane!” a familiar voice called.

  Looking at the bleachers to the right, he saw Aaron climbing down. Shane walked over to meet him, the image of Aaron’s mom being ripped up by the dogs fresh in his mind.

  “Where are y’all coming from?” Aaron asked once they met him at the bottom.

  “Granny’s house,” Shane replied. His insides quaked as he braced himself to deliver the bad news to his friend. Shane’s eyes involuntarily shifted off Aaron’s to the kids in the back of the gym.

  “My mom was out that way. You didn’t happen to see her, did ya?” He sounded so desperate and hopeful that it made Shane’s chest ache.

  “Naw,” Shane replied. It came out before he had a chance to formulate the truthful answer. He felt like total crap for lying to his friend, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn back now so he tried to change the subject. “What’s going on here?”

  “Nothing organized. I was here for practice when the animals went nuts.” Aaron’s lip quivered when he paused. “A bunch of coyotes came across the field and killed Coach Rice. We tried to kick them off, but there were just too many.” He looked down at his shaking hands, and then shoved them in his pockets like he couldn’t stand the sight of them. “The oddest thing was even when we attacked them, they didn’t try to bite us.”

  “Seems like the same thing is happening everywhere,” Shane said, sick from hearing about Coach’s death. He thought of him almost like a father, probably because Coach was a million times cooler than his own dad was lately.

  Nat woke up, and Kelly lowered her to the floor.

  “Are we at the field trip yet?” Nat asked, rubbing her eyes with her little fists.

  “Yeah, this is where it starts,” Shane replied. He forced a smile, burdened by the notion that he was dishing another lie.

  “I’m hungry.” The little girl looked from Kelly to Shane with inquisitive, puppy eyes.

  “We can fix that,” Aaron said, tousling Nat’s straight, blonde hair. “A few kids went to the cafeteria to make some food for everyone. Come on, I’ll take you over.”

  Aaron led the way across the gym. Shane saw Joe Baker, Steve Thompson, Tracy Cyrus, and several other kids he went to school with. At least half of the people in the gym were younger, elementary school kids, who he figured must be the little brothers and sisters of his classmates.

  They walked through the covered breezeway connecting the gym to the rest of the school, and Shane saw Laura, the quiet Goth girl he sat next to in chemistry class. She sat alone in the shadows on one of the metal benches in the grassy area beside the sidewalk. Just enough light from the breezeway shown on her so he could see tears had smeared her excessive, black mascara down over her cheeks.

  “You guys go ahead,” he said to Kelly. “I’ll catch up in a minute.”

  Kelly glanced over at Laura, and then back at Shane. No one seemed to like Laura at school—she ate lunch alone and drifted through the hallways like a silent ghost. He expected a look of disdain to cross Kelly’s face, but she surprised him with a tender and understanding grin. Shane waited until the others entered the cafeteria, then walked over and sat down next to Laura.

  “You alright?” he asked.

  “No,” she replied, fresh tears gushing.

  Shane waited for her to say more. Instead, she turned and embraced him, crying into his shirt. He awkwardly petted her coal-black hair and let her weep. She had a floral smell, likely from her shampoo. It took Shane by surprise, not that he expected her to stink or anything, but she was always dressed in such dark clothes, and he’d never seen her smile. The flowery fragrance seemed to contrast sharply with her attire and personality. After a few minutes, she pulled away and slumped her head forward, putting her face in her hands.

  Knowing she must have lost her parents, Shane wasn’t sure he could say anything to comfort her. Under much less stressful circumstances, he’d tried to talk with her several times in class, to learn more about her. She was always ready with the kind of answers that ended a conversation quickly, or at least didn’t offer any fuel to keep it going. Yet still, Laura’s brown eyes seemed kind, and he expected under all that makeup was a shy girl who put on a front so she would be left alone.

  “I’m going to go inside and get something to eat,” he said. “You want to join me?”

  Laura shook her head, not raising her eyes to meet his.

  He stood and hesitated before walking back over to the breezeway. He turned and looked back at her, hoping she’d come inside. It couldn’t be good for her to just sit out here and wallow in her sorrow. She didn’t budge, so he headed toward the cafeteria.

  “Shane.” Laura’s weak voice stopped him just before he walked inside.

  “Yeah,” he replied, pivoting on his heel.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem,” he said, not sure what he’d done. He smiled as best he could.

  Laura lowered her head, putting her face back in her hands.

  Walking through the double doors into the lunchroom, Shane stopped and blinked to adjust his eyes to the bright fluorescent lights. Although thirty or so kids sat at different tables across the room, he’d never seen the cafeteria so quiet. Similar to the kids in the gym, they wore somber expressions, munching with disinterest on sandwiches and potato chips doled out by three kids working behind the stainless-steel counter.

  “Shane,” Kelly called, “over here.”

  She sat with her sister, the three little boys and the girl they’d picked up behind the grocery store, and Aaron, at an isolated table on the far left side of the room. He walked over, thinking he would’ve loved her to call to him from across the lunchroom under normal circumstances, in the middle of the school day. She might have smiled politely at him once or twice during lunch, but most days, she’d sit with the rest of the cheerleaders, engrossed in animated conversation. Shane would steal awed glances of her, like the rest of the boys in school, with no expectation that he’d ever have a chance to sit next to the blonde queen of cool.

  “I got you a sandwich.” She pointed at a plastic tray with food on it.

  “Thanks, Kelly,” he replied, slumping into the seat.

  Across the table from Shane, Aaron stared with a blank expression down at his sandwich, probably worrying about his mom. The reminder that he’d lied about seeing Mrs. Morris stole away any joy he might’ve experienced from sitting next to Kelly.

  “How’s Laura?” Ke
lly asked with sincere concern in her voice.

  “Pretty sad,” he said, shocked she even knew the girl’s name.

  “Should I take her some food?” Kelly asked.

  “Yeah, might be a good idea. But you should eat first.”

  Picking up his peanut butter and jelly on white bread, Shane took a bite. He didn’t have an appetite and gagged when he swallowed. Kids trickled into the cafeteria while they ate in silence. The lights made everyone look so pale, even more depressed. Shane kept hoping an adult would show up, that they hadn’t all been killed. He forced down half the sandwich and drank his milk, then munched on the salty potato chips.

  “Why do they call it peanut butter and jelly and not jelly and peanut butter?” Nat’s sweet and curious voice broke the silence. She peeled her sandwich open and inspected its insides.

  Everyone at the table looked at each other, weak smiles rising on Kelly and Aaron’s faces.

  “J comes before P, so shouldn’t it be jelly and peanut butter?” Nat explained, sounding very serious.

  “It should, shouldn’t it?” Aaron said, peeling open his sandwich and looking at its contents with a thoughtful expression.

  “Yeah, let’s change it,” Kelly added. “From now on it’s a jelly and peanut butter sandwich and not peanut butter and jelly.”

  “Good,” Nat replied. Seeming content that the world had been set right, she pushed the two pieces of bread back together and took a big bite.