Aiden pulls out a small pocketknife and holds it close to his side, concealed from the others. “Stay behind me, Alli. If things go sideways, I’ll handle it.”
“Okay.” I drop back, allowing him to take the lead.
Our paths intersect a few minutes later. At first glance, the group of three men and three women seems harmless enough. We exchange cautious hellos with them. One of the men pushes his hat back on his head and says, “Didn’t think I’d ever see people again. Not still alive, anyway.”
“Not many of us left,” Aiden agrees.
The man clucks his tongue. “No, I suppose there isn’t.”
He pulls out a bottle of water and takes a drink. I watch it longingly. The man has the tanned skin of someone who smoked too much in his younger days; maybe while working construction in the summers for extra cash. “Name’s Howard,” he says as he screws the lid back on the bottle.
“Aiden. This is Allyson,” Aiden says, gesturing toward me.
We wait for Howard to introduce the others. He doesn’t.
“So, are you coming from Lowell?” Aiden asks.
“We passed through there a few miles back,” Howard says, glancing over his shoulder. He turns back to Aiden. “Is that where you’re headed?” he asks.
Aiden nods. “Our truck ran out of gas a few miles back. We were hoping to find a gas station, or another vehicle, closer to town.”
Howard scratches his head thoughtfully. “Don’t remember seeing a gas station…but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t one.” He looks at the woman standing beside him. “You see a gas station in Lowell?”
The woman shakes her head but doesn’t speak. She’s as pink as Howard is tanned. Her sunburned skin is pock-marked by old acne scars, and her brown hair hangs limply on her exposed shoulders. I smile, trying to be friendly. She doesn’t return the gesture.
“Where are y’all headed?” Aiden asks Howard.
“Asheville,” he says. “We’ve been hiding out since everything turned upside down, but our food finally ran out. I remembered the news saying there was a shelter in the city,” he says. “Figured risking the open road was better than starving to death.”
“The shelter is gone,” Aiden says.
Howard’s face blanches. “How could the whole shelter be gone?” he asks suspiciously. “The news said the military was there to protect it.”
“The military used it for a burn exercise.” Aiden looks at me. “About four days ago, now, right?”
I nod.
“Why on earth would they burn it?” the woman asks.
Howard throws her a disapproving look, and she quickly bows her head, blushing furiously under her blistered skin. Aiden looks at me and raises an eyebrow; I’m just as confused by the exchange.
Aiden looks back at Howard. “They believed everyone was infected, so they decided to sanitize the facility,” he says, using the soldiers’ term.
“Uh-huh. I’m guessing you two were staying there before they turned off the vacancy sign,” Howard says.
“That’s right.”
He turns and addresses the rest of his group. “Well, this information certainly puts a wrinkle in our plans, doesn’t it?”
They nod but remain silent.
Howard turns his attention back to us. “There’s six of us…eight seems like a safe number.” He smiles. “So, what do you say?”
Aiden looks at me, confused. “What do I say about what?” he asks the man, thrown off by the vague question.
Howard laughs. “Sorry. I have a nasty habit of believing others know exactly what I’m thinking. It’s been getting me in trouble with the wife for years.” He grows serious. “I’m proposing we travel together. It’s safer than traveling alone.”
Aiden shifts nervously, then looks at me. I do a quick assessment of the situation. Larger groups are safer. We can always ditch them later if they turn out to be crazy. I nod slowly. He returns my nod and turns back to the man. “Okay,” he says. “For a few days, anyway.”
Howard smiles; without warning, he smacks his forehead, startling us. “I’m so rude,” he says. He points to the sunburned woman standing beside him. “This is my wife, Carrie. And this is Alicia and her sister Lana,” he says, indicating the two young girls to his right. He turns to his left. “This is Gus and Larry. I’m sorry I didn’t introduce them earlier,” he says, looking properly embarrassed.
The two sisters look scared and silent. I don’t think much of it, though, considering we’re all part of an endangered species these days. They could pass for twins, with their platinum shoulder-length hair and tall, slender bodies. Gus and Larry look like stereotypical street junkies, with the same shock of bright red hair. Howard didn’t introduce them as brothers, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they were. The entire group seems a little odd; like they all went through a rough patch in life before they found each other.
“How did y’all end up together?” I ask, curious.
“Jesus brought us to each other. This is my flock, and I’m their earthly shepherd.”
“Here we go,” Aiden says under his breath.
I ignore him. “After the world ended?”
“No.” Howard looks around at the others. “I was their pastor at the Old Rugged Cross Missionary Church, or the Cross, as we called it. That’s where we we’ve been staying until the food and supplies ran out.”
I didn’t expect that answer. He doesn’t look like any of the preachers I used to know, or the ones on television who always seemed to be raising money for their mega churches.
“Didn’t expect that?” he asks with a wink.
I shake my head. “Honestly, no.”
He laughs, and his blue eyes twinkle. “The Cross ministered to those who got…lost…along the way, whether it be drugs or alcohol.” He glances at the two girls. “Or other perversions.”
They each lower their eyes in shame.
“A recovery church?”
He nods his head. “Founded on the principal that Jesus is the only person who can meet all of man’s needs.”
Gus and Larry nod their heads solemnly, and Carrie whispers, “Amen, Lord.” The sisters don’t react.
Aiden clears his throat. “Okay. So, first things first, Allyson and I haven’t had any luck finding a place to sleep,” he explains.
Howard turns to one of the men. “Weren’t you from around these parts, Gus?”
Gus scratches his head. “Yeah. First time I’ve been back in a long time, though.”
“Well, do you remember any places that might be good for shelter?” Howard asks. “Good places. Not the places you used to frequent.”
Gus thinks for a minute. Finally, he says, “There was a farm I worked at when I was in high school. It was nice enough back then.”
“Thank you, son. Think you can remember how to get there?”
“I believe so.”
Howard looks at Aiden and me and smiles. “Alright, then. Let’s go find us a farm.”
June 6, 2019
“Well, are we going in or not?” I ask.
Aiden and Howard have been staring at the farmhouse for the past twenty minutes, but they haven’t moved. I’m getting impatient.
Aiden glances at Howard. “What are the odds it’s empty?”
Howard shrugs. “If there’s someone there, worst they could do is tell us no.”
“Or shoot us,” Aiden argues.
My patience is gone…and I’m tired…and I don’t care if we find Santa Claus sitting in the house eating a plate of Christmas cookies, I just want to stop talking about it and go.
“Who lived there when you worked at the farm in high school?” I ask Gus.
He seems shocked I would address him directly. He glances nervously at Howard as if looking for permission to answer.
“Well?” I prompt him.
Howard nods.
“Some middle-aged couple,” Gus says, shrugging. “But that was nearly thirty years ago.”
“Did they strike you as th
e type of people who would kill an unarmed woman?”
“No,” he admits.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” I say with authority. Howard looks surprised…maybe a little angry…but Aiden just smiles and waits to hear my plan. “We’re going to walk toward the house, with our hands raised...just Carrie and me,” I add.
“Now, hold on…” Howard begins.
“No arguments,” I say, interrupting him. “Two women won’t seem as threatening as an entire group…especially if it’s an elderly couple living there. You know I’m right,” I say to Howard. “You all stay here until we know it’s safe.”
“She has a point,” Aiden agrees.
Howard’s face is red. When he responds it’s to say, “Aiden and I should go instead.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because we’re men. It’s our job to provide for the group,” he says. “Not the women.”
“That’s antiquated thinking, and you know it.”
“The Bible says, ‘for man is not from woman, but woman from man’. The Bible is the living word…don’t matter what the current trends are,” he says with disgust.
“Howard, it’s a solid plan,” Aiden says, agreeing with me, much to the preacher’s dismay. “We’ll watch from here. Any trouble, we’ll go after them.”
“I don’t know,” Howard says.
“If the people living there were middle-aged thirty years ago, they’ll be in their seventies or eighties now,” Aiden says. “They might not even open the door for two men.”
“But they might for us,” I add.
Howard wars with himself for a few minutes. When he finally speaks, it’s to address his wife. “I’ll permit you to go. But just this once,” he adds firmly.
I roll my eyes and look at Aiden. “If they let us in, and we’re not back in fifteen minutes, come get me.”
He smiles. “I got you, 401. Go make me proud.”
Carrie and I take off walking toward the house before Howard can change his mind. I keep my eyes and ears open as we approach the house. I don’t hear anything, but my heart is pounding as hard as if it heard a herd of Germs racing toward us. We’re just about to mount the steps of the porch when the front door opens a crack, and a fragile voice calls out, “Turn around now. We don’t want any trouble.”
I stop, my hands raised high in the air. “Ma’am? Hello. My name is Allyson. We don’t mean any harm, we just…”
“This isn’t a boarding house.”
I take a deep breath then continue. “Ma’am, we haven’t eaten since yesterday. If we could just stay here a few days, we would be on our way.”
“No.”
“Well, can you at least open the door and talk to us face to face?”
A minute passes with no response. Just when I start to turn around and walk back to the guys, I hear the front door creak, opening a little wider. I strain to see the owner; once I can, I realize it’s an elderly woman, maybe seventy-five or a little older. She’s wearing a cotton apron, like she just finished baking an apple pie. I feel like a post-apocalyptic salesman...like maybe she’ll buy my vacuum if I can just convince her to let me come in and give a demonstration.
I smile. “Hello.” I say.
“I don’t have a lot of food here. It’s just me and my husband. Has been for a while now. But I could feed you tonight,” the woman says.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
She lifts a bony hand and waves us inside. “Well, come on, now. It’s not safe to be out here on the porch.”
I hesitate. “Well, the truth is, there are a few more of us.”
“You said it was just the two of you,” the woman says with a frown.
“We thought two women would seem less threatening. But we’re all honest people,” I add quickly, “…good people…and one of the men was a preacher before…”
“Before there wasn’t a church to preach at anymore?” the woman says flatly.
I nod.
“Well, the church was never just a building,” the woman says. “As long as we’re still alive, there’s still a church.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I reckon I can’t turn away a man of the word.” She turns to go inside. “Go get the others, and I’ll work on throwing something together.”
“I’ll go get the others,” Carrie says, eager to get back to Howard.
“Make sure they know it’s just dinner,” the woman calls out after her.
“Thank you, again,” I say, once it’s just the two of us.
She waves me off. Her hands were probably beautiful once; now, they’re speckled with liver spots and wrinkled. She reaches out and pushes the door open all the way, revealing a spacious foyer. An antique bench sits against the left wall; a gilded mirror hangs above, and a beautiful woven rug covers the floor.
She shakes her head. “There’s only been one or two passersby this far up the mountain since, well, you know....” Her silver curls bounce around her face. “Fred and I have to be careful.”
“I understand. Truly,” I say, reassuring her. “But we’re good people. We won’t hurt you or your husband.”
“Time will tell,” the woman says. “Yes, a bit of time always tells the story.”
I wrinkle my nose. I don’t know where that came from, or what it has to do with anything. Is she insinuating we’re not good people? Surely not, since she doesn’t know us at all. But what then? “What story?” I ask her.
She looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “Why, our story, of course. It’s writing itself this very moment.” She winks. “How do you think it will end?”
“Violently,” I whisper.
She chuckles. “So, you’re a smart girl, after all.”
June 6, 2019
Our host introduces herself as Ada. She tells us we can call her Miss Ada, which I think is precious. The husband, Fred, is in a wheelchair. He could be eighty, maybe a little older. It’s hard to tell the age of the infirm. They always seem older than they really are. The family room sits just off the kitchen and breakfast nook. Our group sits awkwardly on the furniture, trying not to touch it any more than we must; it’s nice, and we’re filthy from days of not showering.
“You look familiar,” Miss Ada says, looking at Gus.
He blushes. “Yes, ma’am. I worked here during the summer, back when I was in high school.”
“How long ago would that have been?”
“Maybe twenty-five, thirty years ago,” he answers.
“Ah yes, back when Fred and I were still young enough to work the fields, but before it cost more money to grow the corn than we could make from selling it.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ll go start dinner,” she says, standing. “Preacher?”
Howard looks up from his seat on the sofa. “Ma’am?”
“Would you mind visiting with Fred a bit? Maybe say a prayer or two over him?” She glances at her husband with watery eyes. “It’s been hard on him since we ran out of his medicine.”
“I’d be glad to pray with him,” Howard says solemnly.
As Miss Ada walks out of the room, he glances at the old man. “Fred? My name is Howard. And this is my wife Carrie,” he says, laying a hand tenderly on Carrie’s knee. “She and I tended a small flock at a church just outside Asheville.”
Fred doesn’t answer, but his clear blue eyes never leave Howard’s face.
“How long have you been sick, Fred? A long time?”
Still, no answer.
Howard clears his throat and leans closer to the old man. “You know, Fred, the Lord has His own way of looking at things. He’s not limited by time the way we are…He doesn’t miss details here and there, the way we do. I remind myself of that each time I face a period of tribulation in this wicked world.” Howard leans back in his chair and runs a hand over his beard stubble. “I used to think my sickness was all there was of me. I didn’t think I had any other purpose…any purpose at all, for that matter. But you know what?” he asks
no one in particular. “I found a purpose. And I believe you and Miss Ada have a purpose too, friend.”
No response.
Howard shifts in his seat again. “Yahweh also pronounced blessing over the weak…for they will inherit the earth.” He smiles broadly. “Isn’t that a beautiful promise Fred?”
I tune out the rest of Howard’s dribbling, and lean closer to Aiden. “I wonder what’s wrong with him?” I whisper.
He shrugs. “At his age, it could be anything.”
“Alzheimer’s,” Miss Ada says, walking back into the room. “He used to have good days and bad days, but over time the good days got overrun by the bad…almost like an untended garden gets overrun by weeds.” She shrugs. “We ran out of his medicine a week or so ago. He hasn’t been home since,” she says.
“Home?” I ask, thinking maybe Miss Ada might be a little confused herself.
She proves me wrong with a roll of her eyes and a deep sigh. “Home. You know,” she says, putting a finger to her temple, “up here. The lights might still be on, but my Fred moved out a week ago.”
My heart aches for her. She’s stuck in this house, with a husband who doesn’t remember her. I bet she gets so lonely.
“Are you sure you couldn’t use an extra set of hands around here?” I ask Miss Ada. “We would be able to help you with Fred, or other things around the house.” I blink to clear the moisture from my eyes. “We’d at least be some company for you.”
She looks at me for a moment, then says, “Let’s worry about more permanent things after dinner, okay?”
Dinner is meatloaf and instant potatoes, like my mom used to make on nights we were short on time, which was often. Mary played volleyball and I ran cross-country, so we were always rushing from one practice to another, or from one youth group activity to another. Then, my brother surprised us all with his presence Mary and I we were in high school, so time to cook was often limited. A ripple of sadness moves through me as a chew the loaf.
“What are you thinking about, dear?” Miss Ada asks.
I look at her, surprised she caught me ruminating. “I’m sorry, Miss Ada. I was just thinking about my mom’s meatloaf.”
Revenants Series (Book 2): Remnants Page 20
