The Lucky Ones (Evergreen Book 3)

by Matthew S. Cox

  Harper shivered at knowing who the dead smell came from. No way could she wear any of this stuff before washing it. Getting her things back didn’t feel as much like reassembling her life as she’d hoped it would. In truth, it made her homesick to see the stuff displaced from their usual surroundings in her old bedroom. However, she still treasured it.

  After taking a few minutes to let her emotions settle upon emptying the trunk, she hauled it back out to the kitchen and grabbed the handle on the box of Madison’s stuff.

  We’re almost out of space. Maybe we should keep this whole trunk in the room as like a toy chest for the girls. Yeah… that’ll work. The other trunk can go in Jon’s room.

  She dragged it to the bedroom, positioned it under the window, and spent a while unpacking her little sister’s things, making a pile of dolls in the other corner. Madison’s clothes also went into a trash bag to await washing since they, too had a hint of odd smell, though nowhere near as bad as Harper’s. Then again, her sister’s room didn’t have a giant hole in the ceiling. Maybe the door had even been closed to keep out the smell of death.

  Once she’d finished unpacking everything but the dolls and a few other toys, she plucked one small picture of her parents from the dresser, curled up on the bed, and stared at the faces she’d almost forgotten.

  11

  Too Normal

  Flickering light changed the bathroom into a scene from a cheap horror movie.

  Harper stood naked in the tub, staring at the faucet knobs. A yawn forced its way out. No one in Evergreen had any real idea of accurate time. Even with power, radios didn’t do much without broadcast stations to pick up. Every frequency had played only the same blank hissing. Based on the stove clock, an hour and forty minutes had passed since sundown.

  She had a pretty good feeling the time wasn’t 3:32 p.m.

  Having electric light again nudged bedtime back from sunset a little, but not by as much as she once desired. Why stay up late and use electricity on unnecessary light when she could just go to sleep earlier and wake at sunrise? A life divorced from a clock had been weird and alien at first, but after eight months, syncing up with the sun had become almost a reflex, as if some long-buried genetic instincts had resurfaced.

  Back in touch with nature, I guess. Well, here goes nothing.

  She opened the hot water knob and took a step back to spare her legs the spatter of icy water. In a moment, actual hot water came out of the spigot. She hastily added cold to get the temperature to a comfortable point, then flicked the lever to redirect the flow to the showerhead.

  Ten seconds after standing under a working shower, Harper leaned against the tiles and succumbed to a silent sobbing spell. This felt too normal. People shouldn’t be standing in a bathroom having an ordinary shower after civilization fell to pieces. They should be living in tents, dancing around the fire at night, swimming naked in the rivers and catching salmon with their teeth. A lapse to total primitivism would have been easier to cope with, a clearly different world that bore no resemblance whatsoever to the life she’d known. That would have made it easy to distance herself from her old life as a weird fantasy that never really happened. Having the half-dead ghosts of modern civilization all around teased her with a life she could never go back to. Showering made the nuclear war feel like a bad dream she couldn’t escape from.

  Moment after moment replayed in her head. Rushing to shower before school, hurrying to get ready for a shooting competition at stupid-o’clock on a Saturday morning. Madison sneaking into the bathroom while she showered to flush the toilet, hoping it would make her scream from cold water so she’d finish faster and surrender the room.

  Burdened under the weight of grief, Harper picked up soap and a washcloth and cleaned herself. Bathing once a week or once every two weeks had become the norm. Using up limited firewood and the chore of having to boil water by the buckets for a bath had been the primary reason for such infrequent washing. She didn’t really even notice the smell anymore by the end of week two most times. While power held up, and for as long as the house’s hot water heater remained operational, she might be able to clean up every three-ish days.

  Squirting shampoo into her hand triggered an out-of-nowhere fit of pure rage, mostly directed at whoever started the war. Something as ordinary and mundane as washing her hair with real shampoo felt like a luxury. She couldn’t just go to the store whenever she wanted and have her pick of a hundred different hair products. When the supplies she had ran out, they’d be gone. Maybe they’d scavenge more, but at some point definitely within her lifetime—on the sooner side of later—there wouldn’t be any more shampoo. Or toothpaste. Or soap… at least, mass-produced soap. Hopefully, the library had information about making homemade soap. She had no idea what went into the process, if it required chemicals they couldn’t make anymore or even what they made it from. Soap had always been just soap, there whenever she needed it. But they’d had it in the 1800s, so someone should be able to make it.

  The bathroom door opened, then closed again. Harper grinned out of reflex, expecting it to be Madison coming to freeze-flush her so she’d hurry up and relinquish the bathroom. Someone small rustled about for a few seconds. Lorelei pulled the shower curtain aside and hopped in the tub with her. The instant the child stepped into the water, dark grime rolled down her body, pooling around her feet before trailing into the drain.

  “Baf time!” She gasped, scrunching her shoulders up against her neck. “Eee!”

  Harper pushed the shower curtain closed. “What are you squealing about?”

  “It’s raining in the tub!” Lorelei squinted up at the water. “Why?”

  “Because I’m taking a shower. When people get a little older, they do this instead because it’s faster.”

  “I like bafs more.” She grabbed her toy boat from the corner and made it swim around in the air. “I can’t play wif boats in the rain.”

  “Yeah, that’s kinda difficult. Boats don’t like to fly.” Harper laughed and hugged her. I really needed a dose of cute. This kid is going to keep me sane.

  She resumed showering while Lorelei played. Once Harper finished, she shifted the water back to the normal spigot and flipped the stopper to run a bath.

  “Yay!” Lorelei sat and thrust her arms into the air. “Baf!”

  Pretty sure I was like eight or nine before I took baths alone. She sighed in her head. Guess I’m Mom now. Harper stepped out of the tub and dried off a bit before wrapping herself in a towel, kneeling beside the tub, and helping Lorelei wash.

  12

  All That’s Left

  The bathroom door opened.

  Madison poked her head in, wearing a towel from armpit to shins. “Hey. You didn’t tell me you were running a bath. Didn’t see the fire.”

  “Electric’s in a good mood today. Hasn’t cut out at all, so I rolled the dice with the hot water heater. Worked. Once I get Lore cleaned up, you could shower by yourself like normal if you want… at least until the power grid quits for the last time and we’re back to buckets.”

  Madison stepped in, closing the door behind her. A faint glint of her old personality flickered across her eyes, but rather than run back out to wait, she ended up looking forlorn after a few seconds. “You know how families used to be a lot closer before technology? Like, the whole last year before it happened, we barely talked except to argue about the bathroom.”

  “Yeah.” Harper poured shampoo into her hand and worked a lather up in Lorelei’s hair. “Sorry.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.” Madison dug her toes into the bathmat. “I don’t miss running in the door from school and running right back out in ten minutes to go to dance class or gymnastics or soccer or Girl Scouts and stuff.” She scratched at her arm. “I mean, I wish the war didn’t happen ’cause lots and lots of people died, but maybe it’s not so bad going back in time. Feels like we’re a family.”

  She still doesn’t want to be alone. Kinda weird bathing together but, if it lets h
er feel safe… “Not sure if we went back in time or what. This isn’t exactly the 1800s. We have some electricity, some tech left. Not really sure what we’ve got.”

  Madison crept closer. “We’ve just got each other.”

  “Oh dammit.” Harper hugged her, soapy hands and all. “Stop making me cry. If you wanna hop in, hop in. Whatever makes you happy, Termite. I mean it. Shower on your own once Lore is done, or we can keep doing the Frontier thing if you want.”

  Madison stared at her, blank-faced.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She fidgeted. “A shower would feel too much like nothing happened. I don’t wanna cry anymore either. I don’t think I’m ready for normal yet.”

  “Yeah, I know how you feel.”

  Lorelei made boat-engine noises while moving the little plastic toy around in the water.

  Madison let her towel drop and climbed into the tub, easing herself down behind Lorelei. “Wash my hair?”

  “Sure. Sec.”

  While Harper finished teaching Lorelei how to take a bath, Madison washed herself. Eventually, Harper squirted another capful of shampoo into her hand and started on her sister’s jet-black hair, which had grown halfway down her back.

  “Your hair’s getting kinda long.”

  “Yeah. Is it okay if I keep it?”

  “It’s your hair, Termite. Do whatever you want with it.”

  “Mom liked it long. I’m gonna keep it long. But not so long I sit on it. That’s annoying.”

  Harper teared up again while working soapy fingers through Madison’s hair, overcome with fierce protectiveness. It didn’t matter who or what might potentially threaten her, she’d happily kill or even die to keep her kid sister safe. She had already killed to protect her. She’d do it again without hesitation. That she hadn’t felt anything about doing it worried her to a point. Whenever she accidentally stepped on a bug, it made her guilty. If she saw a cat kill a mouse, she felt bad for the mouse.

  But watching the Lawless go down in a spray of buckshot and blood didn’t trigger any guilt whatsoever. On some level, she wanted to find more so she could do it again. That might be a problem. No… I’m not addicted to killing. I’m just pissed at them for taking Mom and Dad away, and trying to hurt Maddie. I’m not a killer, only doing what needs to be done.

  “You’re crying again, aren’t you?” whispered Madison.

  “Just a little.”

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No. Not at all.” Harper patted her on the head. “These are happy tears because you’re okay.”

  “I’m okay, too.” Lorelei twisted to look up at her.

  “Yep.” Harper booped her on the nose.

  Madison lifted one leg out of the water and ran the washcloth over her foot. “There’s been entirely too much crying in this house today. Your birthday’s supposed to be happy. Can we be happy tomorrow?”

  Harper exhaled hard. “Yeah. You know what. Yes. Tomorrow, we’ll be happy.”

  13

  Farm Day

  Monday morning started with a rare treat: pancakes.

  Unfortunately, they had to make do without syrup. Still, having a warm—and filling—breakfast kept the kids happy. Not used to such a heavy meal so early, Harper had to drag herself through the motions of making sure her siblings got ready for school and walking them out the door.

  Madison tugged on her arm. “Miss Olson said we’re going to be learning on the farm all day today.”

  “Yeah.” Jonathan rubbed his stomach. “School’s gonna end this week for the summer, so they’re just having us go to the farm today and tomorrow.”

  “At least there’s no tests.” Madison grinned.

  He shrugged. “I didn’t mind tests. But I don’t miss them, either.”

  “Which farm are you guys supposed to go to? The big one or the old golf course?” asked Harper.

  “Umm. The corn one.” Madison scratched her head. “I think that’s the golf course.”

  “Yeah.” Jonathan nodded. “That sounds right.”

  The old golf course stood between where they lived and the school, so stopping by there on the way to check didn’t require any real detour aside from taking the slow route. Harper led the kids along the weaving streets directly north from the house instead of going west to Route 74 for the shortcut of a straight line. After weaving around residential streets south of the former country club, they reached a long, narrow corn field growing from where a golf course had once been. The farmers left a strip of open ground to the right of the corn not quite as wide as a car, which made for easier passage than plowing in among the stalks.

  Harper led the kids along the edge of the field to the middle of the farm area. Violet Olsen, the teacher who started Evergreen’s postwar school, stood with a cluster of kids, tweens and younger, near one of the sheds the farmers put up to hold tools and supplies. Madison, Jonathan, and Lorelei fell in with the students while she approached the teacher.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself.” Violet patted her on the arm. “Good morning.”

  “On the farm all day today?”

  “Yeah.” Violet looked over a clipboard, marking the kids as present. “Typical end of the school year winding down. Not having to deal with standardized testing really saves quite a bit of time. Figure it helps the whole town if everyone learns the basics of not starving.”

  Harper kicked aside a brief feeling of annoyance at fate taking away her high school graduation. Diplomas didn’t mean a thing anymore. “Yeah. Good plan.”

  “Welcome to stick around if you like.” Violet grinned. “Just waiting on a couple more stragglers.”

  “Sure, why not?” Harper turned in place, looking out over the cornfields. “This is basically right in the middle of my patrol area.”

  Madison and Lorelei cheered.

  Robin Wheatley and her friend Jax Davis, a pair of seven-year-olds, arrived with Mrs. Wheatley. The boy waved to Harper as they passed to join the others. Not long after them, a slender dark-skinned woman carried little Emmy over, clearly her adoptive parent. Harper struggled to remember the woman’s name, but she’d only talked to her once or twice while on patrol. If pressed, she’d call her Therese. The eight-year-old sniffled as if she’d recently finished sobbing hard.

  Therese set Emmy on her feet by the class and hugged her. “Just a nightmare, sweetie. Bad dreams can’t hurt you. Have fun learning, okay?”

  Emmy mumbled something incomprehensible.

  Madison approached the younger girl. “I had a nightmare, too. It was scary, but just dreams.”

  “’Kay.” Emmy ground the tip of her sneaker into the dirt.

  Therese walked up to Harper. “Hey, are you gonna be here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Would you mind keeping an eye on Em? She had a bad one last night. The ‘sky fire.’”

  Harper puffed a strand of hair off her face. That poor girl sees the nuclear flash every damn night in her dreams. “Yeah. I’ll be here as long as the kids are. This is in the middle of my patrol area anyway so it’s not even like I’m wandering far off route.”

  “Awesome. Thanks.” Therese fist-bumped her, spent a minute or two reassuring Emmy that she’d be okay, then headed back off down the former fairway toward her home… more likely to whatever job took up her day.

  With all the students assembled, Violet led the class down a long row of cornstalks toward three men and a woman, all in their older forties, standing in a group by the military pickup truck Harper had recovered the other day. Evidently, the farmers had been using it to move stuff around. Bags of topsoil likely taken from a garden supply store filled the bed. They’d parked it beside an old sand trap, though nothing had been done to reclaim that small piece of ground for growth. Probably too much work removing all that sand compared to the size of the area.

  At the approach of the kids, the four farmers introduced themselves as Alex, Dan, Lawrence, and Edith, then started talking about how to grow corn and
summarizing what the kids would be seeing and doing over the next few hours. Dan had a heavy Spanish accent which caused some of the kids to ask him to repeat himself several times.

  Soon after the explanation of the day began, someone in the distance to the north shouted, “Hey! What the heck are you doing?”

  The sharp crack of a gunshot followed. Men and teen boys screamed. A young man’s voice Harper kinda recognized yelled, “Parker!” More gunfire went off here and there along with a deep, unfamiliar male voice shouting a bunch of curses.

  Children dove to the ground where they stood except for Emmy and Mila. Emmy froze statue still and burst into silent tears. Mila dropped into a crouch. Jonathan leapt up and dragged Emmy to the ground beside him.

  Another two gunshots followed. A man wailed in agony.

  “Truck! Go! Get down!” Harper grabbed her air horn and sounded one long blast, a 911 code as if the whole town might not have heard the gunfire.

  Violet grabbed Emmy—who made no attempt to go anywhere—and dragged her to hide behind the old Army pickup. The other kids scrambled in a half-crawl, some going under the truck, some hiding behind it. Mila jumped down into the sand trap since it put her lower than ground level. That inspired Madison, Jonathan, and a few other kids to crawl out from under the truck and dive into the pit as well. Harper ran to hunker down beside the right front tire. She couldn’t see anyone through the cornstalks except for a handful of farm workers running like hell to the south.

  Another long air horn blast sounded farther north within the farm.

  That’s gotta be Marcie or Sadie.

  Men and women shouted mostly from the northeast, the area where the farm came closest to the ‘edge’ of the town’s territory. Many of the voices sounded unfamiliar, shouting in between gunshots.

  Harper hovered close to the tire, Mossberg poised. Bullets whistled by, snapping at cornstalks. Here and there, someone shouted in pain or surprise.