A deep, agonizing sense of sadness and loss grips my insides. Robert, Bri, Mom, and Lynn take turns saying their goodbyes and we depart in silence. I know Robert is grieving within but it’s always been his way to not express his emotions much. Walking through the trees, with the sunlight filtering in through gaps, we gather our gear and walk slowly back to the vehicle. The drive back is conducted with a reverent quiet and we pull back into the place we have determined to be our sanctuary although I’m not sure I will ever see it that way.
I walk back into the building and plop back onto my cot feeling completely drained inside; an empty husk. I’m just a shell with no drive left. I know mentally I can’t sink into this, especially at a time like this with our survival still hanging by a thread, but I can’t seem to stop it. My thoughts are not in line with my ability or willpower. I sink down onto the cot in tune with the sinking I feel in my soul.
Lynn approaches and kneels next to me. “I know this isn’t the best time but what do we do now. What do we need to do?”
I know she is, one, concerned about the group and two, trying to shake me out of this funk I’m in; trying to redirect my thoughts into something productive. It doesn’t help.
“I don’t care, whatever you see fit,” I respond and roll over.
Days pass in a blur. I faintly recollect the hammering of night runners outside at night, people coming by, eating and drinking by rote, others within the building moving racks and such, storing gear, and Lynn talking to me at times but I don’t remember any of the conversations. I gradually come out of my funk but still can’t find the willpower to rise and become useful in any way.
Finally, I guess Lynn has had enough of my feeling sorry for myself and stands over me with her hands on her hips looking determined. “Look, Jack, I know you’re hurting and I feel horrible about what happened but you’ve got to shake out of this. We’ve got people here who are looking to you and counting on you.”
“I don’t know what to do,” I say looking up at her.
“Well, these people need you to lead. We need supplies and to start building that fucking wall to protect us,” she states.
“Then do it,” I state back.
“Jack, I’ve seen to getting supplies for the interim and such but I can’t do what you do. I can do the tactical shit but not the strategic stuff like you have rattling around that empty cavern you call a mind,” she says trying her hardest to shake me of my lethargy or at least draw a smile. “Do you seriously think Nic would want you like this?”
That causes a start within. “I’m going to the roof,” I say rising.
“Fine, Jack, do what you need but come back to us. Come back to me,” she says, turns, and walks away.
I rise slowly and remove the barricade leading to the roof. Trudging up the darkened stairwell feels like I’m climbing to the top of the Empire State Building. I reach the top, bump the push bar opening the latch, and swing the door open. The bright sunlight blinds my eyes that have only seen the glare of florescent lights in the past few days. It’s like everything whited-out and then swims into focus. I trudge over and sit on one of the large pipes running across the space and gaze over to the west with the sun just beginning to lower behind the evergreens beyond the open fields.
The fresh air feels good and I feel a stirring inside trying to break through the numbness. I don’t know whether to force it back down and stay numb or to let it through and feel the excruciating pain.
The roof door swings open; Robert and Bri walk through. I watch as they both walk over with their M-4’s slung over their shoulders. I stand as they approach and we throw our arms around each other. Holding them close and tight, I look at them and realize I have been vacant when they needed me. I realize they are all I have left, them and Lynn, and I need to be here for them. I need to be here and see them safe; to make sure they are capable of existing in this new world. It’s at this moment that clarity returns and I feel a semblance of myself come back. There is still the deep, longing for Nic, but I feel I can focus and carry on again.
“I’m sorry I’ve been absent and not here for you,” I say as we hug each other closely.
“That’s alright, Dad, we all miss her,” Bri says.
“Yeah, Dad, we understand,” Robert chimes in on the heels of Bri; both with tears running down their faces.
“Dad?” Bri asks looking up and wiping her tears away.
“Yes, hon,” I answer.
“I, we, want to be able to handle ourselves better, to help take care…” Bri starts saying.
“What’s Bri’s trying to say is we want to be trained like you,” Robert interrupts and finishes what Bri was beating around the bush trying to say, not knowing what my response will be.
“I was thinking along the same lines. We’ll fit that in as we build this place up,” I say sitting back on the pipe.
We watch the sun set and talk about us; relive memories. We remember the good times with Nic, talk some about the future, and even laugh some. As the sun vanishes below the trees, oranges spread across the horizon ahead of us behind the dark backdrop of the mountains. The oranges change to reds and then purples as we watch in silence; each of us content with the mere presence of each other. The day closes.
“Let’s head back downstairs and get ready for the night,” I say with a sigh; not wanting this moment to end. The world, sun, and universe doesn’t seem to care about us mere specks and our situation as time, or the measure of motion, does not stop or change but merely continues along as it always has. Or maybe it is its way of showing it cares in that time does carry on and doesn’t keep us stuck in our moment.
We rise and head down into our sanctuary, making sure the door is locked behind us and barred on the bottom. I turn and see Lynn standing close by.
“I’m back,” I say as she steps close.
“I’m so glad, Jack,” she whispers in my ear as she gives me a hug like a welcome home after a long journey.
Intermission
She wakes with a start. Confusion reigns inside her head.
She stands in the dark room feeling tired and sore. Her arm burns from a scratch and she looks down but can’t see anything in the inky blackness. She maneuvers to the bedroom door tripping over a few items in the dark but makes it across the room and opens the door. The interior is still dark but more like a deep gloom rather than the complete light void of her room. She feels the panic rise within her heart as she remembers running through the house searching for her kids. She doesn’t remember finding them or why she quit. Her last memory is of reaching for the front door hesitantly.
She rushes down the hall in her bare feet calling for her kids. Her voice only echoes along the still interior with no replying call. Her tension increases, as does the decibel level of her calls, as she searches the bedrooms. No reply, just the stillness of the house. She scrambles down the stairs with her heart pounding and feeling short of breath. She is barely able to take a breath to scream their names. Stopping in the living room, she glances at the burning on her arm from the scratch and notices her jeans and yellow top covered in grime and what appears to be dried blood.
She quickly checks herself for injuries and finds none other than soreness in her shoulder. She remembers taking these actions before and is confused as to what happened or why she suddenly found herself back in her bedroom. The serious possibility that she was drugged and her kids taken seeps into her mind. She recalls the flu pandemic that was storming across the world.
