He reminded us all what many had forgot—that the bonds of love and family are the most important things in this world. It’s a message that struck at the heart of those who listened. They’ve responded in kind. Now, it no longer feels as if we live in a house divided. The discord, the blame, no longer rippling under the surface of every action, every word. The unity we lost gets restored more and more with each passing day. Standing here now, witnessing it all come together, I feel my heart swell, knowing this is always how it should have been.
Eventually, Morgan shows mercy and lets Abigail go. Ten minutes later, we are arranging our snowman’s lopsided smile and crowning him with an old straw hat atop his great domed head. Seeing we’re finished, Abigail begins her inspection. Slowly, she circles our creation, examining it with a look of great concentration on her young face. It’s all I can do to keep from laughing.
“C’mon, Abby,” Vince says as he and Kelly join us. “No need to give them hope. We all know ours is better.”
Morgan laughs. “Who are you fooling?” he asks, looking over their own snowman with a sour look. “Yours is looking skinny as you these days, Vin. Couldn’t have fattened him up any? Or at least made sure it stood up straight? It’s leaning so bad, one good wind will probably knock it down.”
“Yeah?” Vince asks. “Well, at least ours doesn’t look like an obese farmer. The straw hat really caps it off nicely. All that’s missing is a can of chew and a pair of overalls.”
I can’t help but smile as Kelly rolls her eyes, nodding to the two of them. Competition and jibes. From what I’ve been told it’s formed the basis of their relationship since they were Abigail’s age. Leave it to the two of them to keep the spirit alive in something as trivial as snowman building. Even so, I’m glad they’ve mended things. I know how heavily their rift weighed on Morgan. It’s good to see them revert back to their old selves.
“I’ve made my pick,” Abigail informs us a minute later. Morgan and Vince stop their back and forth, growing quiet for her announcement. Smiling, she turns to Morgan and myself, declaring us the victors. Without warning, Morgan lets loose a loud cheer and proceeds to hoist me into the air and throw me over his shoulder. My surprised shout quickly turns into a squeal of laughter as he begins to spin circles, making my vision go blurry and head go dizzy.
“What gives, Abby?” Vince challenges as Morgan finally sets me down. “What’s wrong with ours?”
“Morgan’s right, it’s too skinny,” she says seriously. “And yours doesn’t have a hat. They’re supposed to have hats.”
Vince’s indignation lasts throughout the afternoon, aided in part by Morgan’s bragging. I laugh at the two of them, knowing it’s all in good fun, an act they play off one another. But also because on some level, I know they both really wanted to win.
“I mean, sure, ours was a little slim,” Vince admits that evening. “But it was the only way the vest would fit. And you can’t deny, that vest was guap as hell.”
Kelly places her hand over his with a small laugh. “Let it go. It’s over.”
“It’s never over with this one,” he says, nodding across the table to Morgan who laughs and offers a shrug in agreement. He lets the issue drop, the arrival of Leon and Felix drawing his attention away. My mouth waters, the smell of cooked meat a fragrance I haven’t enjoyed in some time. Richard came through huge for us yesterday, bringing down a large buck during an afternoon hunt. Combine that with our recent harvest, and for the first time, we have a small surplus of food. It’s nothing crazy, but we shouldn’t starve anytime soon. That knowledge alone gives us a peace of mind we haven’t known since this began.
Thick slices of venison are served with an assortment of mixed veggies. It’s a meal the likes of which we have not had in some time. Tomorrow we will return to rations. But tonight we allow ourselves to indulge, a feeling of celebration about the place. Halfway through our meal, Vince rises to his feet, a look of wild disbelief on his face as he stares down at his beaming wife. He turns and shouts for quite, that same disbelieving smile on his face.
“Sorry to interrupt, but it’s just come to my attention that my beautiful fiance is currently carrying my child,” he says in a calm, polite voice. It disappears a second later. “You hear me?” he says, voice rising to a shout to be heard over the family’s roar of surprise. “WE”RE HAVING A BABY! I’M GOING TO BE A DAD!”.
Wine is poured. Stashes of whiskey and vodka unearthed. I laugh more than I have in ages, a feeling of great contentment washing over me. An evening like this is exactly what my soul needed. Good food. Good conversation. A mellow buzz flowing through me, making every joke more hilarious, every story more entertaining. I watch Vince grinning like a fool with his ear to Kelly’s stomach, speaking to his child despite Kelly’s instance that the baby has yet to develop ears. I don’t ever want to leave from this table. Everything about this moment is gold. If only there were a way to capture it, preserve it, make it stretch on and on toward infinity so we might live in it forever. Yet even as I wish it, I know all too soon it will pass, the same as every golden moment that has come before it. All I can do is enjoy it while it lasts.
“Huh?” I ask, only just recognizing a voice trying to get my attention.
“Are you drunk?” Emily asks, amused.
“Of course not,” I say, surprised to hear the slight slur in my words. “Well...maybe a little,” I concede.
“Keep a secret?” she asks. She doesn’t wait for a reply before leaning closer, her mouth hovering inches from my ear. “So am I,” she whispers. Immediately she bursts into a fit of giggles, the likes of which I’ve never heard from her, causing me to join her.
“Oh Lord,” Leon says from Emily’s opposite side. “Em’s got the giggles.”
“Right on schedule,” Felix laughs. “Surprised it hadn’t happened sooner.”
“And what do you two have against giggles?” I ask in Emily’s defense.
“Nothing,” Felix says. “Giggling Emily is hilarious.”
“It’s the next couple phases you need to watch out for,” Leon says. “The: I love everybody, emotional drunk stage—”
“Closely followed by the: hiccuping, uncontrollable crocodile tears stage,” Felix finishes.
“Don’t listen to them. They’re just being assholes,” she says as they continue on, citing various examples of these stages from parties past. She takes another sip of her wine. “Besides, you already know I love you, right? That’s not the drink talking either...from the heart...I really do.”
“I love you too, Em,” I assure her, a lump rising in my throat. Drunk or not, Emily is not one to mince words. She boldly wears her heart on her sleeve, unapologetic in her words and actions. So when she tells me that she loves me, I know she truly means it. And she’s not yet done, wrapping her arms around me and drawing me close, our faces squished together cheek to cheek.
“I always wanted a sister,” she admits, lowering her voice so only I can hear her. “I love Morgan...but it’s just not the same...you know? Wasn’t till I went off to college that I knew what it felt like.” Maya. Tears fill her eyes as she speaks of her lost best friend—the first time I’ve heard her mention her since the burial. “I fucking loved that girl. She was all heart. All love...I miss her so Goddamn much.” I feel wetness on my cheek, whether her tears or mine I can’t tell. Probably both. It’s a minute before she composes herself enough to continue. “But life goes on. This world might have taken my sister away from me...but I feel like it gave me another.” She kisses me on the cheek and squeezes me tighter. “I’m so glad I have you in my life. You ever need anything, I’m here for you. My sister.”
Both of us have to wipe our eyes when we part, much to the amusement of Leon and Felix who immediately take notice. Soon the bottles stop flowing. Yawns punctuate the air. The table slowly empties around us. Eventually, Morgan and I make our way into the crowded living room, the upstairs bedrooms having finally been abandoned. Wending our way through the rows of matt
resses and sleeping bodies, we reach our small cot. As I lay down, I can’t remember the last time I felt so at peace, head sinking into the pillow, the feel of Morgan’s arms around me, the warmth of his breath on the nape of my neck.
For once, sleep comes easy for Morgan, his breathing deepening within minutes as his mind shuts down. My own eyes grow heavy. The drink in my system melting me to the bed like butter on toast. So comfortable. So tired. Still, I fight to stay awake. Today has been like something out of a dream—a taste of that future someday Morgan has spoken of. I’m not ready to let that go. But even as I fight, shadows creep on the edges of my vision. Darkness settles. And the thoughts drain from my head as sleep claims me.
I sit, surrounded by loved ones on the slope of a small hill. It’s a warm night, the sky above an endless expanse of stars and velvety darkness. I breathe deep, savoring the smell of lilacs drifting on the air, enjoying the feel of grass beneath my bare feet. Among us, there is a feeling of expectation. Excitement. It builds the longer we wait. All in quiet. Our bated breaths the only sound to pierce the silence. And then it happens.
Streaks of light rise in the sky above, their colors vibrant, their glow bright. Silver, red, green, blue. They climb up and up until they burst, painting glittering arcs, sparkling webs, dazzling flowers, all against the black canvas that is the night sky. Boom, boom, boom. The sound of thunder echoes with each explosion, the noise loud from our position on the hillside. Fireworks. I thought they were part of a world that no longer existed. But here they are.
More rise. Their intervals shorter, their patterns more intricate. I’m immersed in their beauty, in the sound of the percussion. It’s not until the smell of smoke tears through the scent of lilacs that I sense something’s wrong. Fire spreads below, caused, no doubt, from the falling sparks raining down from the sky. The flames eat up the hillside, grass and shrubs and trees consumed and reduced to ashes. What’s worse, nobody seems to have noticed but me.
I try to speak, yell, warn them. But I can’t make a sound. I leap to my feet, trying to pull them up, to make them tear their eyes away from the sky and see the approaching threat. Nothing works. All I can do is scream my silent scream. All the while the flames draw nearer. Fireworks explode overhead, beautiful as ever. Boom. Boom. BOOM.
I wake to a room full of confusion. Panic. There are cries, screams, shouts for quiet. All around people are scrambling to their feet, reaching for boots, for weapons, their bodies lit with a fiery glow. I bolt upright, searching for the source of the flames, positive they have chased me from my dreams. But there is no growing inferno threatening our lives. Only the glow of the low lit fire on the far side of the room. Then what the hell is going on?
Boom.
The sound reverberates through the house, echoes off the walls. Shouted orders from our sentry follow, warning someone not to make another move or the next shot goes through their heart. Before I can register anything else, Felix is flying up the stairs and Richard is yelling instructions, readying us for a siege.
“You have your gun?” I ask my sister from the cot beside our own. She nods, determined not to reveal any of the fear I know she must feel. “Good. Keep it ready and stay away from the— “ I cut myself off as Felix bursts into the room, face panicked. Without a word, he crosses through the room like a rushing bull, roughly pushing people aside and falling deaf to the curses and questions flung at him. Morgan and Leon are out the room moments later.
“Stay here,” I instruct Grace, already moving toward the kitchen along with Emily and Vince while Richard rushes upstairs for a better vantage point. Vince is first out the door, holding up a fist for Emily and me to pause.
“They’re bringing somebody in,” he says, staring out into the dark.
“Raider?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Don’t think so.” He squints and then curses. “Christ. He’s just a kid.” He steps aside as Felix and Morgan reach the door, the arm of a skinny youth draped around each of their shoulders. Vince was right. He’s just a boy: one so pale I might have mistaken him for a corpse if not for the violent shivers that rack his body. He’s soaked, dressed only in a thin fleece and jeans, the amount of snow and frozen water caking his clothes suggesting he’s fallen several times. Tougher than he looks to have kept getting up. Who is he? Where did he come from? More importantly, why is he alone? Before I can voice any of these questions, Morgan begins issuing instructions, Felix’s attention solely on the boy.
“We need to warm him up.” He speaks rapidly, turning to each of us in turn. “Lauren, blankets and dry clothes. Vin, call off the alarm and make sure we have some space. Em, a pot of water and some sugar—there should be some in the pantry. Get it to Leon, he should have the camp stove going already.” None of us challenge our directives. Dashing into the living room I snatch Felix’s bag and two thick blankets from his mattress near the stairwell. Vince follows after to address the family. “Everything’s fine,” he assures them. “Nobody’s trying to attack us.” It’s all I hear before re-entering the kitchen where Morgan and Felix have already stripped the youth of his clothes. Felix hastily ruffles through his bag, unearthing a hoodie, sweatpants, and a pair of wool socks they quickly dress him in.
“Everything’s gonna be alright, Robbie,” he says, wrapping one of the blankets securely around his shoulders. “You’re safe. You’re home.”
Suddenly it all clicks. Felix’s mad rush from the house. The soothing voice. The concern burning in his eyes.
“He’s a wild-child if there ever was one,” Felix once told me. “All go, all the time. Absolutely fearless.” He grew silent for a long minute, the small smile on his face slow to fade. “That’s a good thing though...He’s going to need that courage now more than ever.”
I’ve heard the stories. Seen the photos. Watched Felix struggle with the burden his family’s unknown fate. Now, after all this time, here he is—living proof that at least part of that family survives. Rob: the energetic, younger cousin Felix spoke of so often.
“Felix.” He speaks, voice hoarse, words barely slipping past his chattering teeth. “I--I tr--tried. H--had t--to...”
“Shh,” Felix says. “Save your strength. We need to warm you up.” As if in response to this statement, Leon and Emily re-enter the kitchen. Leon carefully pours the steaming contents from the pot into an empty coffee mug before handing it to Felix. “Slowly,” Felix says holding the cup to his cousin’s mouth, Rob’s hands trembling too badly to do so himself. “Too much, too quick and you’ll cough it right back up.”
Tension fills the kitchen as we wait, Felix never leaving his cousin’s side as he helps him finish the remainder of the pot. Words of comfort pass between them as Felix works, a tenderness to his actions I’ve never seen from him before. I can’t even begin to imagine the thoughts and emotions that must be brewing inside him. Because even as he hugs his cousin close and assures him all will be well, there are still questions that need to be answered.
After a while, his teeth stop chattering. His shivers cease. And though he’s still pale, some of the color has returned to his face, making him resemble more of the boy whose photos still adorn these walls.
“I knew you would come back,” Rob says. “Told em’, if anyone could find a way back, it was you.”
Felix reaches his hand to his cousin’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “I made it back because I had something worth returning to.” A sob escapes Rob at these words. He hangs his head, hiding his face behind a curtain of overgrown hair. “I know it’s been a long night, Robbie, but I need you to tell me what’s happened. The rest of the family, are they safe? Are they...” He doesn’t complete his second question. I don’t think he can bring himself to voice his greatest fear into words, not when he might finally know the answer.
“I don’t know,” Rob admits. He looks up again, his eyes haunted, filled with pain. Slowly the story is told. It was his mother and father’s frantic shouting that woke him the day our lives changed forever. He sped
into the living room to find his parents staring transfixed at the TV, scenes of horror and mayhem being broadcast from all corners of the world. And then everything went black.
“Mom was still freaking out, but it’s like the blackout settled dad down,” he says. “He knew what had happened, explained it to me and mom. He said he had to get to Lena and Brianna before things got out of control. Looked like something out of a damn nightmare by the time he was finished loading up: Tac-Vest; Assault Rifle; 12 Gauge; pistol on his hip, and another strapped to his ankle. Never seen him look so scary before. None of the cars would work, but the old Polaris started right up. He told us to lock the house up nice and tight, and not to open up for anybody until he returned. Said he should be back by nightfall, morning at the latest...That was the last time I saw him.”
The scene plays out in my mind’s eye as he tells his story. The fear he must have felt watching his father drive off the farm, dressed for war. And then the long wait that followed: day fading into night, night ceding to the dawn, morning passing by in fear and worry, all without hide nor hair of his father’s return. And I have a feeling the story only grows darker.
“He never returned?” Felix asks. Outside he doesn’t let it show, but the news has to come as a blow to him.
Rob shakes his head miserably. “We waited,” he says. “Must have been two, maybe three weeks. Never came back. Lena and Brianna never showed up either. It was just me and mom. In the early mornings, we’d haul water and tend the garden, the rest of the time we locked ourselves inside. Dad told us how bad things would get, how desperate people would be without food. He said to wait, so that’s what we did. We didn’t know what else to do.”
“You say you waited for three weeks...what happened after that. Why did you leave?” Felix asks after a pause.
Rob looks away, attempting to hide his face once more behind his overgrown hair. “Was my fault,” he says, voice thick. “We slept in shifts, one of us awake in case something ever happened. I dozed off one night, woke up to mom shaking me awake and the sound of the front door being smashed in downstairs. We could hear them moving around, four, five voices at least. Didn’t have a choice, had to get out of the house before they found us. We were gonna lay low in the barn, see if they decided to move on, but one of them spotted us before we made it. Didn’t even shout a warning, just started shooting. Lucky for us he was a shitty shot. But after that, we had no choice but to run.”
A Cruel and Violent Storm Page 20
