Looking Back Through Ash Page 8

  Last year, Daniel had put together the garden beds by using rows of 6x6 landscape lumbers. The frames and soil filling them had come from the same place, the burned-down house directly behind the Moore’s place. All that remained standing of the former, colonial-styled home was the indignant chimney. Daniel reclaimed the pieces of lumber from the landscaping that was still above ground and without rot. Peeling away the damp, springtime sod from the rubble-strewn yard, he scraped at the top-soil underneath to fill the new frames. The dark, rich soil would not be missed by anyone still breathing; the chimney had been the lone occupant of the lot for ten years.

  At times, the dust would come in very fine, while at others it stung to stand in the wind because it was so thick and coarse. The grainy, brown and gray hues muted primary and secondary colors alike, permanently streaking structures when it rained. Enduring despite the harsh conditions, gloomy buildings stood in stark contrast to the vibrant greens all around.

  Daniel stood proud, trying to visualize the growth of his healthy-looking tomato plants. A succession of quick popping sounds, followed by two larger bangs emanated from the immediate south. The gunfire, coming from somewhere along the divider with Detroit, reminded him to get back to working on shuttering the windows.

  The windows themselves had already been sealed with liberal amounts of sealant and spray foam, thwarting most of the ash and dust’s advance into the house. To make his new defenses effective, and yet still be removable, Daniel decided to build the shutter framework on the inside of the house. If a fire broke out, he still wanted to be able to get his family out, even if it meant breaking out a window to create an emergency exit.

  From the stories that Daniel had heard, marauders showing up at your door used to happen quite frequently in the early days of despair. Settling down into one place was the quickest way to put a target squarely centered on your back. The gruesome tales that spread their way around the scattered community were of prolonged sieges on the homesteads and enclaves that lay outside the small protected areas.

  Even if, after days of sinister effort, the raiders found themselves rebuked, they would usually just leave without setting their unclaimed reward ablaze. There was always that one last glimmer of hope for the damned; that they would eventually think of another way to get inside. Destroying buildings, especially those with some of the last remaining provisions inside, had become an almost unthinkable last resort. Despite knowing all of this, Daniel was no more certain about his ability to repel a gang single-handedly than he was about what they would do afterward, if he did manage to stave them off. Securing the windows was not being viewed as a way to keep the world at bay, but more as a way to gain precious distance and invaluable time. When, or if, those types of things were ever needed.

  Everything was to be cut and pre-drilling with hand tools, to aid in the sinking of the long screws. The plywood would be marked for cutting after the framing was done on each of the different sized windows. He was, most definitely, not looking forward to cutting it all by hand. This made him thinking of running the generator briefly as he fumbled to close the sliding glass door wall without spilling an arm full of long lumber. Thinking the noise would be an unnecessary risk, Daniel took the more painful, safer path.

  Daniel would have been done with the window project sooner, but deciding to cut advantageous viewing ports into each piece of plywood took longer than planned. After his last scroll saw blade broke, he was forced to cut them with a flimsy drywall saw. The port holes did allow a shaft of light to shine in on the floor, and they gave the ability to look out the windows from up close.

  The hour and a half lost to cooking and cleaning up after Rebecca’s “potty accident” had not helped speed things up either. It had led him to the next problem at hand, though. Daniel had already dribbled some dog and root vegetable stew down his shirt, so when Rebecca fouled her pants, an idea just kind of came to him.

  No power at the pump house meant no water pressure, and no water pressure meant no water heater, which had been retro-fitted to run on propane. So, even though he could heat the water, without pressure, it did him little good. Daniel and Rebecca would usually take two baths together each week. Washing twice a week by most standards was already a luxury, but knowing that Corinne could not go without washing as long as they did, something would have to be done soon.

  Soon it was time to make a dinner of thin bean soup, with bread spread equally as thin with separating butter. Rebecca needed to be, and was, fed, cleaned up, and settled into bed. Rebecca knew that she would usually get up early the next morning to go to school, but was told that she would not be going. The bedtime routines were only being done out of habit. Rebecca thought of complaining, she did want to stay up later after all, but her father already looked sad for some reason so she thought better of it.

  Daniel sat by her side, cranking away at the small LED lantern, while she insisted on holding the oil lamp for him to work by. Finished with his minute of finger-cramping agony, Daniel placed the light on the white side table beside her bed; one of the few items in Rebecca’s room that had not been painted pink. He turned on the lantern and the room went awash in a bright, blue-white light. The brightest of the lamp’s power would only last for about two minutes, and then it would slowly fade, along with Rebecca, into sleep.

  “There you go, girly-girl,” Daniel crooned, forcing a smile. He hoped his cheery tone would assuage the worried look washing out her typically bright eyes. Leaning over to give Rebecca a kiss on the top of the head before retrieving the lantern from her, Daniel lingered just to admire the spindly, dirty-blond and brown-eyed girl beneath his propped up body. His smile grew even bigger, and far more sincere.

  “Is Mommy gonna be okay?” Rebecca asked, with a concern that only a child could muster.

  “Yeah…What do you mean, Rebecca?” Daniel asked back, feigning surprise with a slight chuckle, as he sat back up.

  His intention was to show her that he was not at all concerned about his wife but, deep down he was. Corrine had gotten a look in her eye that at one point bordered on lunacy. The look had since gone away, but it felt like it hadn’t gone that far given her current vacant stare.

  “She’s mad at me. I think…,” Rebecca pouted her lower lip out and continued, “Is she? Did I do sumfin’ to her, Dad?”

  “Not at all, Rebecca. She just doesn’t feel good...I mean, she’s sick, remember? Huh? Remember that’s why she came home from work today?” he lied. Daniel was again just trying to convince her that Corinne would soon feel better. “You just need to give her a little space? You know how you feel when you’re sick, right?”

  Rebecca nodded her agreement.

  “Just let her rest tomorrow and I will give you…a bunch of quizzes,” Daniel said, his voice and eyebrows raised. She loved his hand-written pages of basic counting and reading problems.

  “A bunch of them, you said? …You pinky promise?” Rebecca asked quickly, eyeing him sideways, as if the moment might slip by. She had perked up a bit, though, and she was reaching her hand out, trying in vain to get only her pinky finger extended. Once Daniel interlocked pinkies with her, it would be absolutely binding. He never broke a pinky promise, but she still needed to work fast.

  “I pinky promise.” His laugh boomed out when he sealed the deal with one deft finger and opposite hand over heart. “C’mon, time for bed. I love you, princess. I’ll come back to check on you in a couple minutes. Sound good?”

  Rebecca smiled her affirmation this time, then hunkered down beneath the bedspread, her pink blanket clutched firmly in hand. How she could even think of using a cover was beyond him. It was uncomfortably warm inside the house with all the sunlight lately. Daniel wanted to move their king sized bed down into the basement tomorrow, so they could enjoy the cooler temperatures afforded there. Rebecca would absolutely love the move. Corinne was another matter altogether.

  She had not taken kindly to Rebecca’s tossing and turning in the middle of their bed last year. Re
becca had used her slight, and often fortuitous, fear of the darkness as a means to weasel her way into sharing the bed last time. There was no way to be sure which would be the bigger fight: Getting Rebecca to sleep in her own bed downstairs or telling Corinne that Rebecca was going to be bruising ribs again.

  Looking back through the thin gap left in her doorway, Daniel saw Rebecca kicking and thrashing to get the bed cover untwined from her legs. He smiled briefly at her wriggling form before going back to trying to solve the riddle of how to wash bodies and clothes in this new, yet familiar, reality. He also had to think of a way to secure the door wall, which was now the only exposed glass left around the house because of the dehydrator assembly, and it needed to be done in a way that would still allow easy access to the back yard.

  As gently as he could, Daniel tiredly poured himself into bed next to Corinne. His mind was spinning wildly, switching along too many tracks to fall asleep. True rest would not come for him until hours later.

  Chapter 5

  Monday

  Jimmy Sutter wormed his way out of the rank cramped sleeping bag. He was trying carefully to not wake his younger brother Chase, who was wedged in alongside. After freeing himself, Jimmy rubbed vigorously at his upper arm and shoulder which his brother had been using as a pillow. A couple seconds of clenching his hand into a balled fist was enough to ease the tingling numbness away. Chase stirred, but remained asleep atop the day bed down in the musty basement of the house that they had broken into the night before.

  Like the rest of the homes in this area, George Grant had found a door to this house had already been breached. In this case, it was a side door that led into the attached garage; the door connecting to the interior was also unlocked. George had taken Jimmy and Chase stealthily inside to continue the never-ending search for food.

  George was kind of scary at times, but he wasn’t all that mean to the brothers. He would often make Jimmy and Chase carry the heavy bags full of bedding and water, or if his anger was roused slap them on the back of their heads for asking what he considered to be dumb questions. Jimmy thought it a small price to pay for being saved.

  Jimmy and Chase’s mother had died eleven months ago while in the ineffectual care of the Warehouse clinic. The only thing that the doctors could tell them was that she had died of some form of cancer. It usually made little difference what type of cancer it was, the results were usually the same, a slow painful death. Shortly after their mother’s passing, the Sutter’s house, where their mother worked as a prostitute burned to the ground. Jimmy guessed that it had been started by an untended candle that Chase had taken into their mother’s room wanting to sleep in her bed. As of yet Jimmy had not asked the question and Chase had not owned up to it.

  The morning after losing the house, the firefighters had left once they had ensured that the flames would not spread, Jimmy took Chase back to the Warehouse seeking refuge. The police controlling access to the housing area door explained to the brothers that was no room available inside. The Council had sealed the space claiming it was at full-capacity. The armed guards then directed the boys over to a woman, who was standing in front of a large cooking pot at the head of a serving line, where they received bowls of stew and fresh bread. The newly orphaned brothers were fed shortly before being ushered back outside the fence. Not knowing where to go next the young brothers went back to familiar ground.

  While picking through the ashes of their former life Jimmy was approached by George Grant. George soon realized that the brothers had no food or shelter and he offered to share what was left back at his place. After it got dark inside the house, George said they could sleep on the couches. Jimmy and Chase were just never asked to leave after that. Jimmy had never worked up the nerve to ask where George’s family had gone to, or why they hadn’t taken him along with them. George was 19 years-old but, with his full beard and large frame, looked much older. Jimmy was 17 and Chase was about to turn 15.

  After the food ran out at George’s house, he told the brothers that the odd group of cast-offs would have to start breaking into empty homes and businesses to look for more. At first, they would bring anything they found back to George’s house. They ate an eclectic, mixed-bag of meals during those months; Soup mix with mice one day, a box of moistened, stale bread crumbs and charred crickets the next. The task of finding meals stretched across from day to day. It was a very rare occurrence if they had more than two or three days’ worth of food at any one time. Even if a cat’s den or rat’s nest was found, the meat would only go so far, and last for so long.

  Soon enough though, the combination of depleted local resources and the stench of unwashed dishes, decomposing garbage, and rotting sewage made the decision to leave the house an easy one to make. They just packed up their meager belongings and stayed inside the various places that they broke into. Most buildings didn’t have much in the way of packaged food inside them, some having been picked through several times over, and if no critters were found they could always dig worms as a last resort.

  They soon found themselves searching ever more places and in ever stranger spots within those places just to scrape something together that would give them at least one partial meal. Piles of old luggage almost always produced moldy snacks within the houses and desks yielded more of the same inside businesses and office buildings. Every house that they checked in this new neighborhood, east of their old stomping grounds closer to town had already been broken into and stripped clean, but there was just enough wildlife to keep them going.

  George had an old Dan Wesson Arms revolver that was chambered to hold six .22 long rifle rounds. He kept the entirety of its 4 inch barrel stuck down his disgusting pants in a cross-draw configuration. It looked more than worn and had almost no bluing left. The cracked and taped wooden grips looked monumentally filthy, speaking as to how long it had been since it had been properly cleaned. Still, it was in working order and .22 shells were prized for their reliability; rim fire ammunition gave more than one chance at going off, the priming powder was sealed inside the case and could usually be coaxed into firing.

  The group was getting desperate and George was now saying that the only way to get enough food to last for a while was to hit an occupied home. This statement had an indescribable effect over the trio and it followed them around like a bad stench ever since its utterance.

  Jimmy quietly exited the small room that he and his brother had slept in, creeping past a snoring George outside, who was crashed out on a raggedy looking green couch in the main space of the once beautifully finished basement. The high tide mark of the basements annual flooding could now be measured on the bar attached to the far wall. Needing to get out of the horrible basement, Jimmy winced every time that the stairs squeaked out in protest. George hated to be woken up.

  He found a small nautical-themed bathroom at the top of the stairwell. With the help of a cheap lighter to spark a sealed tin of fuel, he evacuated his bowels into the empty toilet. The flickering orange light gave illusionary movement to the speckled fish, forever swimming upstream on the peeling wallpaper border.

  The three had not had enough time to search around upstairs the night before. This was because they had arrived at dusk; having skipped over several streets because of a “bad feeling” George said that he was having. He would get severely pissed at the brothers if they started waving candles around where people outside might see them, giving away their sleeping position. George had been acting extremely paranoid since leaving his old home and the safety of a known area. Making them all sleep down in the mold-riddled, stinky basement stood testament to this fact. They had also started sleeping later and later into the day. The group’s sluggishness could be attributed to slight malnutrition, three days without finding any substantial food sources was depleting their stores far too quickly.

  Not wanting to chance going back down the squeaky stairs, Jimmy went to continue the search alone. After a tertiary search of the main floor, he hurried up the flight of stairs
to the second floor, even though they made more noise than the basement ones did. He found that the first two bedrooms had nothing in them but worthless junk, left behind from whenever the previous occupants had moved out. Judging by the amount of dust on the banisters and window sills, this had taken place some years ago.

  Backtracking down the hall, Jimmy went past the top floor bathroom on his way into the last bedroom. He opened the door and saw that it was in the same state as the rest of the house; empty. He was about to turn around and head back downstairs when movement caught his eye. He sidled up to the window in the master bedroom, which like all of the other windows was devoid of any kind of shades or blinds. Jimmy cautiously peered out into the backyard of the house that was behind and to the left of the house where they had slept. What Jimmy saw looked like a beacon shining through the midday calm, a possible answer to some of their worries. He saw a lanky-looking, yet obviously well-fed man, alone using a hose to water down a pathetic looking set of gardens.

  “I better go get George,” Jimmy muttered to himself. While heading back down the two flights of stairs to awaken his brother and George, Jimmy did his best to ignore the fear that was trying to creep up from behind.

  A few minutes later and after what was sure to be a fresh bruise on his arm, Jimmy led George into the upstairs bedroom. Pointing out a general direction for him, Jimmy stepped well out of his way. George just managed to catch seeing the man heading back inside his house, carrying what looked like a long stack of lumber.

  George turned, pointed at the barren carpeted floor and said gruffly, “You stay here. I want to watch this dude for a couple days. Check all around us too. I want to know if there are more people living around here. You better make sure that no one sees your ass up here,” emphasizing his point by raising and exposing the back of his hand. “I’ll send your brother up in a little bit. After he wakes up and makes me some food.” With that George moved to leave the room, heading back towards the basement and the broken-down couch.