A Matter of Days (23 page)

We collapsed against the side of the road while Zack leapt the fence and headed for the tractor. When it started up, he drove it straight over, through the fence, to get to us. We piled up into the cab and settled in. Patty and Rabbit fell asleep instantly.

As dawn cracked open, we started looking for farmhouses. We had figured out that there was usually an old-time water pump and a barn that we could pull into and park in out of sight. If we were fortunate there were supplies like jam, pickles, and jars of peaches or tomatoes abandoned and overlooked in cellars.

I knew we’d been lucky in finding a boat and only losing stuff, not each other, on the other side. But I didn’t think it was luck, as much as Dad and Mom guiding us. Watching out for us and helping us to know where, and when, to go on.

We slept in an empty dairy barn, and Zack got the family’s station wagon to run after tinkering under the hood. We filled containers with water and found a jar of peanut butter in the warm fridge that wasn’t growing mold. The added sugar and preservatives kept it quite delicious.

“There’s a country school up ahead.” Rabbit pointed out the sign. “Maybe there’s stuff in lockers or something. At least a lost and found with clothes that might be cleanish.”

“You’re getting the hang of this.” Zack grinned.

“And crayons?” Patty asked.

“Definitely crayons.” I didn’t think anyone would hoard those.

The one-story rambling brick building peeled off in arms and legs like an octopus from a central office.

The scent of chalk dust sucked me back to elementary school.

“Uh, guys?” Rabbit asked.

“What?”

“I think that’s today’s date on the chalkboard. Isn’t it?”

“Someone’s here.” Tension whipped through me.

W
e froze and started listening to the building around us. I imagined whoever was in here with us held the same breath.

I whispered to Zack, “What if they’re kids, too?”

“Or teachers?” Rabbit asked.

I moved toward the door.

“What are you doing?”

I shook off Zack’s question. “Hello? Is anyone here? We’re just moving through. Looking for crayons, maybe a change of clothes,” I shouted. “We don’t want to steal from you, though, so we can go on. Just tell us to leave.”

Okay, I feel like an idiot
.

Creak. I heard a door opening along the hallway and a man poked his head out.

“Hello.” Relief and new trepidation stole my breath. I
forged ahead, acting brave for Patty’s and Rabbit’s benefit. “I’m Nadia. There are four of us.”

He paused. “Let me see you all?”

I motioned and Zack, Rabbit, and Patty came out. I saw Twawki and Al and recounted. “Sorry, there are two more if you count the dog and bird.”

“Hang on a minute.” His head disappeared and there were sounds of furniture moving as if they’d barricaded themselves inside the room.

Twawki wagged his tail, and Al sang a jazzy rendition of “Joy to the World.”

Finally, the man walked out with a woman and a young girl. “I’m Bruce Angelo. This is my wife, Gail, and our daughter, Emma.”

As we made introductions, Emma held out a box of crayons to Patty. The girls were about the same age, and started chattering about their favorite colors in the big box. They giggled and danced and acted like they’d known each other forever. I wished for that kind of resilience.

Rabbit wandered off to check out locker contents after Bruce acknowledged they hadn’t explored them yet.

Zack, Bruce, Gail, and I moved toward the front doors and the fresh air.

“How’d you survive? Your whole family?” Zack asked.

“We didn’t all. Our son died,” Bruce answered, the pain in his voice raw and fresh.

“I’m sorry.”

“Bruce is a homeopathic physician. His knowledge is what gave us a chance,” Gail asserted. “His patients also had a higher survival rate than most.”

Bruce shook his head. “Gail’s background as a psychiatrist kept us grounded and looking forward.”

“You had to keep us alive first,” she argued with a small smile.

“How did you know what to do?” I asked, as we sat on the steps of the building in the sunlight.

“I used accounts of the 1918 influenza pandemic to base a treatment protocol. I’m not the only one, we were all trying. Before communications went down completely, there was a doctor in Germany who thought he had a miracle treatment. I don’t know what it was.” Bruce’s shoulders sagged.

The Angelos were heading east hoping to make it to Washington, D.C. They thought there might be rebuilding and a working government.

“Are you ill?” Bruce asked, staring intently at my eyes. At my nod, Bruce retrieved his bag of medical supplies. Zack disappeared on an amble around the playground with Gail.

When he saw my expression Bruce shrugged. “Shrinks come in handy in disasters. He’s not the first person we’ve met who’s needed to talk.”

But when they came back to join us it wasn’t as if Zack seemed happier. He seemed more depressed, darker. He began studying me with a troubling expression I couldn’t decode.

By mutual agreement, we traveled on together in a caravan of sorts. Emma and Patty rode with the Angelos, and the two girls became inseparable. We headed toward Frank’s sister’s farm. It wouldn’t take us much out of our way, and kindness was all we had to give in this new world. Besides, the idea of hot, fresh food was a selfish motivator.

Without warning, a horse and armed rider cut us off on the
country road. Visions of the grannies stealing everything had Rabbit and me cringing.

“Everybody out of the vehicles where we can see you!” the gunman called. “What are you doing here?”

“We have a note from Frank Lanson for his sister, Ms. Lindy, if she’s still alive. We thought this was her farm.” I spoke up before Bruce, or Zack, played man-in-charge.

“You’ve seen Frank?” She lowered her gun with a squinting disbelief. “He made it? Why isn’t he with you?”

“He’s feeding a bunch of animals,” Patty inserted from behind me. “Kittens.”

She nodded. “Ah. His wife?”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, but he said no one else in his family made it.”

Her shoulders dropped with her sigh as she dismounted.

Rabbit stepped forward. “Here, ma’am.” He’d been using the note’s scribbled address to navigate us to the farm. “Ms. Lindy, here’s the note.”

She took it from him with shaking fingers. “I’m sorry for the gun-in-your-face greeting, but we can’t be too careful anymore.”

“Don’t worry about it. We won’t stay,” Bruce said.

She ruffled up, offended. “Of course you’ll stay. We always have food to share with friends and family.”

“You don’t know us,” Zack said.

“You were kind enough to deliver a note from Frank. He wouldn’t have sent you unless you’re good people. That’s friend enough in my book.” She swung up on her horse. “Just follow me along the driveway up to the main house. We’ll roast up a chicken and have fresh cherry pie.”

We shared a look that had our mouths filling in anticipation.

The farm ran like a small city. People hurried and scurried, barely stopping to stare at us, as if everyone’s job was more important than new arrivals. Can’t say I blamed them. “There are about twenty of us. None from the same family. Mostly old women and a few kids. There’s fish in the river. Vegetables in the fields. We have chickens, pigs, cows. It’s a full farm—we cobbled it together with what we all had. You’ll rest as long as you need.”

By the third day on the farm, we had chores like everyone else, but at dinner that night the atmosphere was quite serious.

“We voted. We’d like you to stay with us,” Ms. Lindy said, as she passed the sourdough loaves around the picnic table.
Bread. See, Rabbit?

The Angelos wept with obvious relief at the invitation. There was no question they’d stay.

When all eyes turned toward us, I shook my head. “We can’t.”

Rabbit didn’t hesitate. “Our uncle is waiting for us.”

Ms. Lindy didn’t argue. “If you change your mind, you come back here. There’s plenty of work, but we’ll make it through the winter all fine.” She stared out across the land and toward the horizon.

“Yes, ma’am,” Rabbit answered.

Patty and Emma read each other storybooks and braided each other’s hair before falling asleep in a tangle of pink.
I can’t take her away
.

Late that night Zack and I snuck off to talk. “We have to leave her with them, with Emma. She’s happy as part of their family,” I said without preamble.

Zack squeezed my hand, wrapping me closer. “I thought you’d argue with me. I agree. Bruce made it clear to me that they’d like to adopt Patty and make her part of their family. Emma and Patty are like sisters. I think it’s what her mother might have hoped for, maybe more than she could imagine—two parents, food, shelter. There are worse places to grow up than on a farm like this.” Zack talked on, giving me time to try to stanch the ache that grew and grew.

Tears rolled down my cheeks and I dashed them away, frustrated with myself. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

Zack tucked me into his arms, letting me cry it out without trying to make me feel better. “Because it’s another goodbye, Starbucks.”

P
atty took the news much better than Rabbit did. With a quick hug for us humans and kisses for Al and Twawki, she linked arms with Emma and skipped away. As much as I would miss her, there was a certain inescapable relief that came with not having to worry about one more little human.

For his part, Rabbit huffed and cried silently into his elbow as we drove along. He didn’t want comforting, not that any of the arguments Zack and I had for relinquishing Patty made sense to him. Maybe he’d liked not being the baby of the group. Maybe he’d liked having another girl who thought he hung the stars instead of just his sister.

As we continued east, we began switching vehicles rather than siphoning gas. It wasn’t as if we had many supplies
to transfer. On our second truck Zack snuck another glance at me.

“Zack? Why are you staring at me all the time?” I whispered, hoping Rabbit wasn’t paying attention.

“ ’Cause you’re pretty,” he answered, turning away and dropping his eyes.

I snorted. “By now you should be a better liar than that.”

He paused, then reached over and lifted my chin. “You are pretty. You’re beautiful.” The intensity of his gaze made me fidget.

“That’s not why you’re watching me all the time,” I argued.

He shrugged. “Why not?”

Rabbit called out a direction from the backseat and the moment was lost.

We’d barely crossed into Kentucky when it sounded as though a thunderstorm was barreling down on us. The cloudless sky told me there had to be a different explanation.

The earth rumbled. Vibrated.

“Is that an earthquake?” Rabbit asked.

“I don’t think so,” Zack said. “Sounds different.”

I saw the horizon wiggle and undulate like it was alive. “Are those cows?”

Zack leaned out the window. “Horses?”

“Both?” I squinted, trying to make sense of it.

Rabbit tensed. “Um, guys, we’re in their way.”

Suddenly realizing he was right, I yelled, “Back up!”

Coming straight at us were a million cows and horses. A herd that stretched from the left horizon to the right.

“We can’t outdrive them. Besides, we have to go that way.” Zack pointed toward the oncoming animals.

“Turn off the car, at least?” I suggested, my fingernails digging into the upholstery of the dashboard.

We had to shout over the noise. The pounding jiggled the car, shaking us all.

“They’ll go around us, right?” Rabbit clung to Twawki, who growled low as if he wasn’t sure exactly what the threat was, or where it was coming from.

Zack looked at me. I could see the city-kid fear in his face. He usually acted as though he’d seen and done everything, but facing a herd of hooves—that rocked his facade.

“We’ll be fine in the car,” I reassured all of us.
Really? Are you sure?

The first wave was close enough that I saw the whites of their eyes. A bull with a massive set of horns whacked his head against the headlights as he ran by and the racket of broken glass was drowned by our screams as the truck was hit from one side and then the other. We rocked like a dinghy in a hurricane. I heard metal crumple.

Dust filled the air and flies buzzed into the windows with splats. The pop of gunfire made us duck and search for the source of the noise. Last time I checked, horses and cows didn’t fire weapons.

The last noses passed and the thunder began to recede behind us. I heard the unmistakable sounds of repeat gunfire, engines, and men shouting approaching from our right.

“They don’t look friendly,” Rabbit said, as men on motorcycles surrounded us.

I wished this mob was all tattooed, black leathered, and scarred with weird piercings—that they looked like bad guys. Jeans and khakis, T-shirts and striped button-downs,
board shorts, and flip-flops looked more like a men’s clothing catalog than a motorcycle gang. And guns. Minus the weaponry, they could have been surfers, or accountants, or college kids.

“Hey, guys, we got one!” Surfer dude strode over to a young cow lying on the ground. He shot it one more time in the head, up close.

Rabbit cried out.

“Get out of the truck!” One of the guys knocked on the windshield with the butt of his rifle.

“I don’t want to,” Rabbit said quietly. Twawki growled.

“Nadia, take the dog’s leash and hang on tight.” Zack held up his hands and let them see he was unarmed. “We can’t take them all.”

I knew Zack was right.

“Rabbit, hold tight to Al, okay? Don’t let him swear at them.”

Please keep the bird quiet for once
.

I opened my door, then whispered to Twawki, “Easy, boy, easy, quiet.”

“Load the meat up in the back there.”

In our truck? Why do all these groups seem to have a dictator? Is democracy another fatality of BluStar?

“Where are you headed?” The question was directed at me.

“South,” I answered as Rabbit shuffled behind me, both hands clasped around Al’s wings and a towel draped over the bird’s head.