Humanity Gone: After the Plague (11 page)

Chapter 19: Jonathon

            
 
All I can do right now is keep her comfortable, hydrated, and fed.  The penicillin that we took from the store is starting to seem more and more like an option, though.  I know there is a difference between prescription and over the counter drugs, and I don’t know the consequences of using a prescription drug incorrectly.  There has to be a reason that only doctors can allow you to get them.  I hope she will get better naturally.

Everything else is settling into a rhythm.  Jo, Sara, and I are all reading up on gardening, and we’ve planted some of the radish seeds that can be harvested in as few as four weeks – according to one of those books anyway.  It didn't seem like a bad idea to take our first slug at gardening in the last month before winter.  We can’t find any other plants that grow so quickly inside of that time frame.

I hope I like radishes.  I see a lot of them in my future.

Jo and Sara are looking out the window, talking about what the trees look like when they just start to change color.

“I’ll bet the first one to be completely bare will be that one,” says Sara, pointing to a big maple tree about eighty feet away from the house.

“
Alright,” replies Jo.  “I’ll take that one,” she said, pointing to another tree a little further away as Sara presses her face against the glass.  

“
Don’t forget which one you picked,” Sara exclaimed.  She turns to me with a smile and I smile back, she quickly turns to look back out the window.  It sounds like a silly wager to me.  They stared out the window a lot and hoped to see animals.  Maybe it was replacing TV.

Caitlyn stirs and Sara hops away from the window sill to tend to her sister.  The sun is approaching the western hilltops, so we probably only have a few hours of daylight left.  Now’s a good a time as any to start dinner.

Jo must have read my mind.  “What do you feel like cooking today?” she asks, walking over to the table.

“
What I feel like cooking? You mean what do you feel like cooking?”  I argue.

             
My sister lazily glares at me and I look to the closed pantry and think of what we have.  Those pots and tools that we’d gotten at the grocery store are fantastic. Along with the few pieces of kitchenware from the ranger’s station, we have all that we’ll need to last the winter.

             
“Let’s do pasta tonight.”  I’ve become pretty good at draining the water from the pot with just the lid, and I’m feeling pretty hungry.

             
“Again?” Sara complains.  “We have had that like four times already” She says at the foot of Caitlyn's bed.  Caitlyn seems to be asleep again at the moment. 

             
“Well do you have any ideas?”

             
“As a matter of fact...I do.” She hops down off the bed and grabs the pantry door. She talks to herself briefly. “Now if I remember from mom...” she grabs a few random cans and boxes and sets them down on the table.  She sits for a second and stares at them.  I watch in amusement – she is determined.

             
“Where are the spices and everything?” she asks.  I point to the cabinet.  I watch as she struggles on her toes to reach for the top shelf.  I come up behind her and bring them down.

             
“I could have reached them, Jonathon.”

             
“Oh I know, just consider me your sous chef.”

             
“What's that?” she asks, opening the ranger's array of seasonings and spices.

             
“Your assistant.”  She smiles and begins to lay down her plan of how we are going to add a little of this with a little of that and come out with some sort of stew.  I help her open some cans and gather some fresh water.  She takes a third of a box, mixes it in, and begins to stir.

             
She has no idea what she is doing.

             
“Okay, now sous-chef Jon.  Let this cook for 15 minutes. Now, I also want to prepare those instant mashed potatoes.” She turns to her sister. “This should all be easy for her to eat.”

             
She rips open the pouch and I begin to heat some more water over the stove.   While she is distracted with the potatoes I grab a spoon from the drawer and taste the stew. I may need to add a little, a lot, of seasoning when she is not looking. However, when I bring it to my mouth, it tastes alright.  Maybe she does have an idea.

             
“Pretty good!” I say with a grin and a thumbs-up.

             
“Of course,” she turns with a smile.

             
The two of us finish preparing the meal while Jo sets the table and checks on Caitlyn.  We serve the meal onto the dishes on the table and we take turns helping Caitlyn eat.  When she feels up to it, we prop her up in her bed and sit with her as she slurps away at the stew.  She manages to eat half of it. The plates at the table get completely cleaned.

             
“Good work, Sara” replies Jo rising to her feet.  She sets her plates down and walks to the corner. “I'm sure you two won't mind doing cleanup, too.  I’m headed out.”

             
“Out?  Who’s the guy?” I ask. Sara and I begin to collect the plates and put them in a wash bucket already heating on the stove.

             
She snickers as she grabs the rifle from the corner.  “Hopefully, ‘he’ is an ‘it’, and ‘it’ is going to die.”

             
“Isn't it a little dark to try to be a great hunter Jo-Jo?”

             
“It’s as good a time as any.”

             
Our uncle always used to talk about hunting at the very crack of dawn.  There must have been a reason for that.  “Can't we wait until tomorrow?  I will come.”

             
“Just relax, we’ve an hour left.”

             
“Why are you pushing this now?” I ask moving closer.

             
“Because,” she begins, lowering her voice, “I'm tired of you doing pretty much everything around here.“

             
“You know I don't see it like that,” I argue.  The tension rises.

             
“Well I do.”

             
“We haven't even fired one of those guns yet.  What if someone hears it?  Think.”

             
“I am thinking.  It will be fine.  Stay with them.”

             
“Jocelyn, you are acting like a child.”  It slips before I can hold it in.

             
“No. I've never been a child because I have always had to put up with you.”  She sighs.  We are both angry.  This is how most conversations went before the plague came along.  She speaks loud so the twins can now hear.  “Jon, I’m going, I’ll see you soon.”

             
“Girls, I’m going for a walk.  I’ll see you in an hour.” she says, slinging the gun over her shoulder and heading to the door.  I don't think she would ever admit it, but I think she was jealous of Sara and me preparing dinner.

             
It was my fault, too. I'm still just trying to make up these past few years.  How can I make up for taking mom away from her?

             
“Bye!” the twins say in unison, only one is much weaker than the other.

             
“Don’t go too far!” I call out after Jo.

             
“Yes, sir!” replies Jo, saluting me with disdain.

             
After a little bit of work, I get a fire growing in the stove and grab the big basin from the stove top with the dinner's dishes inside.  Sara and I dry the dishes together and she helps me stack them neatly on the table. 

             
“Do you need me to do anything else?” she asks willingly.  She wants to help me more.

             
“No, go play.” I add.

             
“With what?” she inquires while shrugging her shoulders and putting her hands in the air.  She smiles.

             
“Be creative.”

             
“Oh, alright.”  She grins and jumps to the other bunk and fiddles with something.

             
I grab the basin to rinse it outside. The pump is just around the side of the cabin, and with only a few pumps, it loyally spouts cool well water.  God help us if this thing breaks. 

             
I muse for a little bit too long over the mechanics of a spout, and some water spills out of the tipped pot, splashing freezing water onto my ankles.  A few curses escape my mouth as I shake the water from the bucket. I turn back toward the cabin.  It is getting darker much more quickly than I expected.

             
More quickly than I'm sure Jo had expected, too.

             
As I round the house with the basin in hand, something catches my eye and I step back up behind the corner.  A dark figure moved among some trees.  Was it an animal?  My eyes squint.  The person moves again.  I slowly set down the bucket.

             
“No… not right now,” I whisper to myself. After peeking around again, I see that he’s walking with his head down.  He may not have seen me.

             
The answer is all too obvious as the wisps of smoke blowing from the chimney grab my attention- he’s here for our food and supplies.  The images of the raging man at the grocery store come back to my mind.  I won’t give him the opportunity to harm the girls.  There will be no talking this time.  I need to act first.

             
Fifty feet.  The man is pretty clear, now.  He looks to be a bit shorter than six feet, but in reasonable shape.  There’s a hiking backpack strapped to him which could slow him down significantly.  He walks slowly and slightly crouched, with his gaze almost directly at his feet.  Maybe he doesn't want to be seen-maybe he doesn't want to scare anyone? No. he's trying to hide.  He wants to sneak up on us.

             
That’s it. Once he’s past that corner, I’ll close the gap and take him out.

             
Switching to the other back corner of the house, I watch as he nears the opposite front corner, still walking toward the door.  He lifts his head up, apparently making sure he’s still headed in the right direction. I will have a few moments where his back will be toward me as he goes to the door.

             
He seems tired.  It makes no difference.  He won’t know what hit him.  Three… two… one…

             
He passes the corner, and I’m at a dead sprint.  Even if he hears me at this point, it’s going to take a second to register, and I’ll be on top of him.   He’s only a quarter of the way through turning around, and I’ve left the ground, my shoulder lined up with his gut and my hands extend for his wrists.

             
“Oof!” I hear as my shoulder drives the breath out of his body.  He goes down easily, as the backpack is already weighing him down.  I’ve gotten my right hand around his left wrist.  With my left, I deliver a jab across his face to stun him. I release with my right hand and tighten it into a fist, bringing it crashing down onto him.  The backpack is keeping his hips off the ground, making it difficult for him to kick me, and the right strap is preventing him from delivering anything but a weak cross with his right arm.  I shrug off one of these and continue to pummel him.

             
His right hand stops swinging, and instead it comes across his face in an effort to deflect some of my blows.  I grab that wrist with my left hand, and press it to the ground above his head while I raise my right shoulder for a final blow.

             
His head recoils, and he fiercely grimaces.  All of a sudden, I feel his right arm pushing with much greater strength against my left hand.  His groan becomes a scream of aggression as his arm comes slowly off the ground, bringing my hand with it.

             
A rock lies next to his head, and just as he inhales for another burst of effort, I grab the rock and raise it high in the air.  I’ll finish this just like the last time. 

             
My hand with the rock comes wheeling forward, aiming for that same point in front of the ear. 

Chapter 20: Carter

              Finally making it to the campground is a relief.

             
It brings back memories of my family. I miss them.  I came here with my father and mother for as long as I can remember.  He always inspired me, and my mother always supported me.  Other than a brief moment when I was eight and I fired a potato gun through our den window, I had a loving childhood.  They both pushed me to be exceptional.  Dad worked his way through medical school thus he accepted nothing less than my best every time.  He signed me up for every rec sport and scouting program my hometown had to offer.