Tuesday, July 28, 2020

The Ring of Faces

There existed for a time, in a location not known to the rest of us, a ring of five faces, each with a countenance settled to fully view the others, but with one turned just slightly akilter, yet still able to look upon all of the other faces. So arranged by a puckish whim of nature when a cargo of severed heads tumbled off a donkey cart and rolled away from the path down a long slope. They came to rest on a field of short, deeply soft, clover. That same nature that placed them there deemed that none had died, at least for now. And so they were settled, looking around with eyes wild with terror. The faces blinked in disbelief, trading stares and simply blinking at one another, amazed to be like a miniature Easter Island of balanced heads. None believed their individual sparks of intelligence would continue to burn for very long. For a time they were still. Then the flooding memories of recent horror consumed them. Tears of anger and self-pity. Moans of fear. Screams of agony. The need to retch but no retching mechanism extant. No one blamed any of the others for choices of expressions against the outrage of being beheaded by a vengeful society. Throughout the day it lasted, then all during the night residual groaning. As the day burst upon them, almost like on-switching a light bulb, they were mostly cried out. By degrees, their terror eased in the sweet morning air. And they took stock and began to communicate with looks and expressions. A few gave the others encouraging half-smiles. As yet no one ventured to speak. Then a butterfly settled on a young feminine nose. Her eyes crossed, to look at it.

“It’s the clover,” an older male voice offered. “There are many butterflies here. A few bees, also.”

This particular head with full growth white hair on it had belonged to A, a journalist/essayist. Any who recognized him in later life would call A a radical. His turn to feel the bite of the blade had been almost universally anticipated.

The butterfly had taken a rest upon the nose tip that had been a part of R, paramour to a man whose head balanced on the lush greenness two places away. R had always worn her flaxen tresses nearly waist long. As a prisoner, she had had it hacked until it was ragged and short. There was a scabbed over gash caused by the reckless actions of the man wielding the shears. Her gaze rested on the head that had spoken to her; yet there seemed nothing to say.

The head that we will henceforth call A commented on her eyes, telling her the poets wrote sonnets to such eyes as hers.

R said nothing, still. It was evident in her expression the belief that men only serve compliments to pretty females when strategizing control over them. Her eyes sought out Z, her former lover for an instant.

No interest was returned, for Z to all intents and purposes no longer knew her. She had understood the man all too well for it to bother her as her gaze randomly swung to and locked on a certain M.

To M, the unwavering stare from a single set of eyes constituted an audience, to which he could not resist responding. “I offered them pearls, those swine,” he said.

M looked about to see if his outburst had gotten the attention of the rest of the group. Their paused faces, though their eyes looked away, told him they were listening. “I gave millions of people hope,” he said. “I had more followers than anybody.”

“We all know about you,” Z said. “Nobody deserves to be here more than you.”

M regarded his accuser with scorn. “Trafficker. Flesh merchant. You will burn in the bowels of hell. The Lord will see to that.”

Fleeting amusement crossed through Z’s features. He dismissed M from his thoughts. Shortly, he closed his eyes and could correctly be deemed to be close to napping. It had long been a habit with him to sleep by day while pursuing most activities in the deepest night. He felt no impetus to change.

A had noted that the head akilter had not as yet acknowledged the group. His curiosity grew after he determined it to be female and that she concentrated her attention solely on what could be seen of the world from that very confined vantage point.

“Are the butterflies gone?” R asked, breaking into his musing.

“I’m afraid so,” he said. “However, I do see a crow in the distance, hopping, and driving its beak into the clover. Now it has flown. A good thing in my book. I wouldn’t want something like that getting close.”

“I’m afraid,” she said. “Now we’re half dead I would like to get it over without further pain.”

A backed out of their talk, finding it distressful; also cutting it short because he was eager to focus his attention on the other woman, made interesting because mysterious.

Provoked by his undisguised curiosity, the akilter woman’s features froze, her eyes holding a steady gaze to her front. A felt unapologetic. He brashly studied her features, which were plain, yet strong, her eyes that were deep and shadowed. That skin tone and hair could put her in multiple ethnic groups. “What is your name?” he said.

She slowly trained the trajectory of her gaze on his face. “You are A,” she said.

“Everyone knows me. I don’t recognize you,” he said.

“I taught in a top university,” she said without responding to A’s request. “I researched the material and taught the truth.”

“As you should have done,” he said.

“My work often contradicted the texts we were expected to follow,” she said. “A few students reported me. At first, the administration tried to support me. In the end, they joined with the government to demand I retract certain information. I refused. I was imprisoned. Still, I refused.”

“Maybe,” A said, “you ought to have compromised just a little.”

Her sigh said more than any words. Her renewed silence somehow cut A, set him to review his own transgressions. A's transgressions were tolerated until the wrong persons assumed legal power. After that, no amount of backtracking could erase the bruising untruths contained in the words he had written. He mentally shrugged. “So it goes -”

R was singing to console herself. Her voice was once deep, sultry, but no longer resonated. A didn’t know any songs and didn’t care.

M had been muttering to himself since the exchange with Z. He saw A looking around. “Let me tell you where you’ve gone wrong,” he said in the best pitchman’s voice.

“Shut up,” said Z. “I’m sleeping.”

The three men began haranguing one another, causing M to sing ever louder. They didn’t notice that the head akilter had gone still and her eyes semi-closed. When A finally noticed it was when that head rolled forward, leaving the face to rest in the soft greenness.

       

 





Wednesday, July 22, 2020

Daisy Plumtree, Outlaw

Daisy Plumtree was a lusty one,
She loved an old buffalo gun.
She'd shoot her round,
Then stand her ground,
Where many men might run.
If her ways was rough and raw,
She learned it from her paw;
Who killed eight men,
Then made it ten,
Which set his fate with the law.
She was Daisy Missy Plumtree
Rough and ready
Rode the outlaw trail
To rob the outbound mail
Missy Daisy Daisy Plumtree
She went on the lam in Mexico
And fell in with Two Feathers Crow
She leaned her gun
In Crow's wigwam
Made from hides of buffalo
But the soldiers killed her man
He was crossing the Rio Grande
Daisy got hung
Before she swung
Said Daisy Crow is who I am
She was Daisy Missy Plumtree
Rough and ready
Rode the outlaw trail
To rob the outbound mail
Missy Daisy Daisy Plumtree

Sunday, July 19, 2020

Mexico Linda

Mexico Linda
Can you come out today
We’ll sit on your veranda
And watch the children play
We’ll sip tequila
And talk about old days
Good times before policia
Took your love away
Oh our good days are all over
So we only talk about the past
If we both were much younger
When our lives were such a blast
Mexico Mexico Mexico Linda
Mexico Mexico Mexico Linda
Our lives were such a blast
Mexico Linda
Your lover was a man
First one at the corrida
Last one when others ran
Loved a fiesta
Lazy autumn days
Good times before policia
Took him dead away
Oh our good days are all over
So we only talk about the past
If we both were much younger
When our lives were such a blast
Mexico Linda
The breeze is soft and warm
If you’d like to linger
Won’t do us any harm
We’ll sip our tequila
And dream about old days
Help me turn my wheelchair
From sun’s dying rays
Oh our good days are all over
So we only talk about the past
If we both were much younger
When our lives were such a blast
Mexico Mexico Mexico Linda
Mexico Mexico Mexico Linda
Our lives were such a blast

Wednesday, July 15, 2020

(conclusion) SPELVILL

CHAPTER THREE

          Joseph had grown up. The nineteen-year-old had for three days been putting out food to attract a half-grown Labrador Retriever that had been poking around, curious, and hungry. Nicole’s coaching awakened in him a need to want the dog for a friend. This time, he sat with a chunk of fish in his hand, ready to coax her to come and take it. The pooch arrived soon enough, appearing from the woods that encroached on Spelville from three sides, hoping to be fed. She came slowly forward, ears flattened, tail tucked in behind her, determined to do whatever she had to in order to chomp down on that mouth watering filet. Joseph quickly learned how dangerous a Lab’s teeth could be. She made a frenzied grab that sent fish pieces flying. A tooth grazed the side of his hand, drawing a spot of red. She swept up and swallowed every speck and searched the young man for more. He ran his hands across her shoulders and along a side. This act melted her resistance. She licked at his face and pushed her body against him. There was another slice of fish for her. Then a deep long drink of water.
          By the time Joseph came into the house, he had a friend for life, pressing her side against his leg as he walked, sporting what can only be described as a happy grin.  Annie, who had been sitting, coloring with pencils, recoiled when she saw this, the biggest animal she had ever seen, with a mouthful of sharp teeth, approaching. “What is it?” she cried “Get it out of here.”
          “It’s a dog and it’s friendly,” Joseph said.
          “I’m afraid of it,” she protested.
          Nicole had taken of late to lying back in her recliner, for ever-extending lengths of time. Her bones always ached these days. Even the missing toe ached. She roused long enough to urge Joseph to keep the pet out of trouble and suggested he give her a name. When the dog took something of Annie’s and began to chew it on the floor, there ensued a commotion that put her on her legs. The Lab had grabbed a long red sock and then made it a tug-of-war game when her son tried to grab it away. Nicole brought down a broomstick across the dog’s shoulders, quickly ending the game. After a surprised whimper, she cowered behind Joseph a few moments and then poked around the floor, more, for other objects of interest.
          “These dogs need lots of training,” Nicole said. “It may take more patience than any of us can summon.”
          Annie had curled into a defensive ball on the sofa. She only slowly opened up, much like the flower she was. A soul of few words, reclusive as a spider, she left her family and went down to what remained of her favorite pier, to watch the river. She was her mother’s daughter. Nicole had her childhood. Annie had hers. She often thought of floating off, downstream, until the river consumed her.
          Joseph, on the other hand, slowly grew to become the backbone of the family. He gardened. He fished. He made it easy for Nicole to ease into the background.  He had decided, he told his mother, he would like to see where the dog came from. After a bit of preparation, he led it out, and they went hiking in the woods. He sifted a limited category of names as he went along, hoping to hit on a good dog name. The dog went happily ahead, possibly loving that they were going together to her home territory. He followed her lead through a maze of trees and vines, keeping his directional wits about him. He eventually lost the trail and waited on the spot, to see if his dog would return.  After perhaps thirty minutes, he grew discouraged and began the trek home. He thought, perhaps she would come back at feeding time. As he emerged from the woods, the name Eve came to him, from the times Nicole read aloud from the Bible. He would give the dog that name if she returned.
          The boy gave the knob a turn and pushed his way into the house. At the same moment, Eve caught up to him and brushed past him, carrying in her mouth the remains of a large brown bird. “What is that?” he said to the room.
          Nicole cracked her eyes to look. Suddenly energized, she sat up. “It’s a chicken.”
          He gave the bird a closer view. “I saw one of these, last year. It got off in the woods before I could take a good look.”
          “If you caught us some chickens, we could have eggs,” Nicole said. “Follow the dog to where she caught it. There has got to be more. You could not chase one down, especially with a dog running them. But, if you go back, alone, at night, they will be asleep, up a tree. If they are not too high to reach, you can grab three or four and shove them in a big sack. And I can build a cage to put them in.”
          He gave her an incredulous look. “You? Build a cage? I think it best if I do that.”
          She made an annoyed face. “You can be my helper,” she replied.
          Together they found some eight-foot rolls of chicken wire and a variety of metal poles and lumber and in a short time, they had a fence and coop. “The way to keep the chickens from flying over the fence Is to keep their wings clipped. Without full feathers they can’t fly,” Nicole explained as they stood back to admire the handiwork. “It’s big enough they will be able to scratch around for bugs and we can scrounge up food for them.”
          He was not about to rest from his labors. Right away he began the search for the chickens.
          Each morning, for two weeks, Joseph took Eve on an expedition, until finally, he learned where the birds called home. As per his mother’s instructions, he checked around until he found the piles of poop beneath the tree that must be the roosting tree. He went home, then.
          Later, in deepening dusk, and with a round fat moon already overhead, he locked Eve in a building and set out, bearing the sack he and Nicole had fashioned. By now he knew the target section of woods intimately. There were a few traps to avoid, such as patches of thorny vines, around which he expertly navigated. He did not truly grasp the importance of owning the chickens, but it had become for the moment life’s most pressing mission. He could see the dark shadowed forms of the birds on several branches, as he moved in on the roosting tree. He stole up as silently as he could and gently grabbed one. It squawked a bit but went rather easily into the bag. A second and third were as easy. Becoming greedy, the boy grabbed a fourth chicken and was met with resistance. The bird fought with all its might, but finally, he stuffed it into the bag and secured the top before shouldering it. He headed for home, happy enough to sing, with thoughts of inexhaustible supplies of eggs to please his Mom.
          He came home and they received him like the conquering hero he felt himself to be. Joseph proudly displayed the bag and then locked the chickens away for the night.
          Nicole thanked him for doing such a wonderful job and told him they could work together to clip the chickens’ feathers first thing in the morning. Nobody stayed up late because they could not enjoy themselves much by candlelight. As a result, they had rested and were up and going before the full break out of morning sun. Nicole was suddenly energetic. She explained to Joseph that the exercise gained by putting together the fence had caused much of the pain to go away. She knew by that that she had to exercise and move her body on a regular basis for the rest of her active days.
          As a light sliver blinked open on the horizon across the expanse of water, they were pulling the chickens from the bag, one by one and Joseph held them while Nicole cut their wing feathers short.
          The birds were weak from breathing all night inside the bag, but were fine otherwise. Each time one’s wing got clipped, he tossed it into the pen. The chickens ran away, until they reached the back of the pen, then stood helplessly, not knowing what else to do. The unruly one from the night before looked different. Nicole explained how the comb, waddle, and spurs that set it apart from the rest meant that it was a rooster and that it would lay no eggs.
          “I should let it go?” Joseph said, disappointedly.
          She smiled. “No,” she said mysteriously. “He will come in useful, too.”
          After the chickens realized they were in no immediate danger, they gradually searched and pecked in the dirt, running after it when a cricket was flushed and trying to elude them. After Joseph understood how much they loved crickets he spent much of his time trapping some and tossing them over the fence.
          As he and his mother hung by the pen, admiring the chickens, she spoke of when the eggs would be coming and the need to gather them daily. Then she had a new thought. “Joseph. If there are chickens running around out there, and dogs, there could be goats, or cows, even.”
          They began pouring over pictures of domestic animals and she explained why certain ones would be valuable to have around. Then she showed him what she knew of setting traps, which was limited, but she knew him to be intelligent enough to take it from there.
          After that, the young man used the mornings to assist at home, but in the afternoons he and Eve went hunting. They had found nothing yet, by the time Eve got herself bitten by a viper.
          The poor animal lay in a dark corner, with her face swollen terribly, and Joseph continued his hunting on his own. The only remedies Nicole knew of were products long over the use-by date.
          The Lab recovered, in time, and she happily rejoined her friend and companion on the afternoon excursions. But the man finally lost enthusiasm, after finding no animals worth his efforts.
          His attention turned next to the remaining houses and outbuildings, everything that survived the fire, explosion and storms he remembered so vividly from childhood. Not much had been done with those unused structures. Nicole had taken away useful things early on, but they were pretty much ignored after that. Joseph needed to know if anything worthwhile had been left behind. Carrying a long tree branch to ward away spider webs, he went first through the houses. They had not even furniture in them, just a few empty boxes and an assortment of picture frames and unopened junk mail. He knew what mail was but felt incurious about the contents. The outbuildings were filled with useless junk, for the most. One was full of auto engine parts. Another held cans of paint. Nicole had long since taken the thinner left in there and used it up.  In some were what must have been household garbage. The final building held a trove of books. Joseph liked this discovery. He had long since read everything of interest inside the home. The first tome he scooped from among some loose ones on a table held lots of color pictures. He was shocked by their content.
          It was a sex manual for teens. He saw photos and diagrams of bodies and he read about the reproductive process. He felt shocked and repulsed by what he saw. When he had all he could take, he walked to the water’s edge and tossed the book in. When it did not sink right away, he threw random objects at it for as long as he could see it.
          When eventually he came timidly in the house, he busied himself with little tasks, such as sweeping and moving chairs, and kept always turning away from his Mom and sister, when they got close to him. He could not help imagining their bodies behind the clothes they wore and was ashamed and fearful. That night, he tossed and turned, until dawn.
          He spent as much time as possible outside, working, or walking with Eve in the woods. He wished desperately he could un-see what that book scalded in his brain.
          Nicole noticed his behavior but felt it was her son’s business and he would tell her about it if he felt she should know.
          During one of his excursions away from home, he came across and captured a piglet. He proudly brought it in to show his family. Annie just wrinkled her nose, but Nicole praised him to the skies. She hoped he would find it a future mate, the next time out.
          Joseph unconsciously reverted to his previous behavior. Despite the occasional flashback, where he was revisited by visions from the sex book, he was again the good son and oblivious brother. On a single occasion, he went back to the house with the books and discovered, deep in the back, a hand crank record player, with a pile of records. Illustrations on booklets and dust jackets were enough to teach him how to bring forth the music of the 1930s through the late 1950s. Annie claimed the machine and discs for her own. She played Perry Como and Eddy Fisher records, from morning to night. Joseph did not mind. The noise became a partial substitute for community, for, somewhere deep in his soul, he felt a connection to and a longing for a society that no longer exists - much of angst hiding below the surface, for he was maturing and had no outlet for expressing his young manhood.   
          Goaded by frustration, the boy wandered further from home and further again, almost daily. On one such excursion, he came upon a road. Despite the crumbled pavement, and the weeds growing out of the ruptures, he found it an easy trail to follow. Enticed by the though it might lead to important discoveries, he set a pace in hope he would see something worthwhile before time to turn around. He soon spotted the ruins of a house. Just one wall left standing, the rest of the house piles of rubble, with trees and bushes growing through it all. He began to find more houses in similar states of decay and he thought that was all there would be left after all. Ahead, the vegetation appeared to be lush and to follow a line perpendicular to the trail he followed. He suspected and then verified it was a stream that likely emptied into the big river he lived beside.
          It turned out there was a house near the bank of the creek, brown and unpainted, but complete and having a look suggesting the possibility of an inhabited domicile. He and Eve stood, transfixed, for a long time. He feared to disturb whoever might be in there, But, he knew he had to, sooner or later. For the present time, he opted to hide in the brush to observe and wait for somebody to come out on the porch. 
          After about an hour, discouraged with waiting, he roused Eve from her napping and together they approached the entrance. He stepped as quietly as he could up the semi-rotted steps, across the wooden deck, to stand fearfully before the door. It was an agonizing few minutes, before, at last, he summoned the courage and knocked very loudly. There was an immediate crash from inside, as of a chair getting knocked over. With the hair standing up on the back of his neck, Joseph abandoned all caution. He threw open the door and peered inside. The interior was filled with dust and mold. The knocked over chair proved to be a bar stool, and it was near a hole where once a window had been. It seemed to Joseph a rather large animal had escaped out the open wall. He ventured inside far enough to open the door of the first bedroom.
          A wave of horror swept over him. In the middle of the bed lay the skeletal remains of a girl, of perhaps fifteen to twenty. Her nightie survived, in tatters. Likewise the bunny house shoes on the feet. The body position was as of one who surrenders to the non-avoidance of destiny. He stared at the scene for a long time. When he returned to the living room, he broke down. Wracked with great sobs and pain of yearning for what once was, but could never be rejuvenated. The tears continued to flow, as he beckoned Eve, who had been lying before him, watching his face. They left the house and wandered back along the remnant of road and then entered the woods on the track to home.


CHAPTER FOUR


          It took longer to come home than Joseph anticipated. He thought it odd, when he approached, that no candle glow showed in the windows of the darkened house. Yes, odd, but, even so, he expected to walk in and greet his mother and sister and then sit down to his dinner, once the problem with the candles was resolved. He and Eve pushed into the living room. “Where are you?” he said into the darkness.
          Feeling his way to the counter, where a candle usually burned, he felt just a flat surface. His hand slid around in broadening circles. Suddenly a match ignited, about four feet across the room. “Is this what you are looking for?”
          Joseph saw an ebony-colored hand pinching the matchstick and the shape of a man behind the fire’s dim glow. He was too amazed to react, at first. The match lit a candle, illuminating enough of the room to reveal four masculine figures. They all looked at the young man, with astonishment in their faces. Speaking in a soft baritone voice, the ebony man asked for his name. 
          Joseph tried to tell him, but the words caught in his throat.
          “What we want to know, most of all,” a man with black hair and a long curly beard leaned forward and said, “is: Where are your women?”
          He knew instantly that his mother and sister must have gone into hiding. The boy‘s features drooped. “Dead,” he responded.
          The bearded man, whose name was Jerry Peasalt, gave the boy a sharp look. “How long ago?” he demanded to know. “They’ve certainly been sleeping here, as of last night.”
          “No sir,” the boy replied, wide-eyed and attempting to project sincerity. “I have brothers living here.”
          “How old are you?” asked James Clayborn, the ebony man.
          “Nineteen, I think,” he said thoughtfully.
          “You should be over thirty. Unless you were born after the Sickness. And you would then be the first such I have seen.”
          “Yes, sir,” Joseph said. “But, my Mom and my sister were killed by an explosion at the gas station. I was mostly raised by older brothers.”
          “The clothes in the closets are women’s clothes,” Jerry Peasalt countered.
          “None of us has seen a woman in three decades,” blurted a third man, Evan Akins. “We are going to stay here until yours comes out of hiding.” 
          “That’s right,” added the fourth, Edgar Snossile.
          James nodded his assent. “You heard these men. Where are they?”
          Joseph hung his head. “I don’t know,” he confessed.
          “Why don’t you know?” Jerry Peasalt insisted.
          The boy lost his fear. He looked the men in the eyes. “Because they hid before I came home.”
          “Describe them to me,” Edgar Snossile said, eagerly, almost leaning out of his chair.
          “No.” Joseph absolutely would not approach the physical in any sense where “his women” were concerned.
          “Sorry, kid -” Edgar Snossile began.
          “Joseph.”
          “Don’t blame us Joseph,” Snossile resumed. “You’ve spent your whole life with females. Imagine how we feel, over thirty years later, after thinking we would likely not see one again, forever.”
          “I won’t talk that way about them.”
          “Just tell us how old they are,” the man persisted.
          Joseph shut down again, refusing to respond further.
          “It’s okay,” James Clayborn cautioned the others. “They have to come out, sooner or later. Then we will get to look at them. It’s okay, kid. We ate your dinner that was laid out on the table.”
          Joseph sat down, taking Eve’s head in his hands as she pushed at him, wanting his attention for only herself.
          “That’s a beautiful dog,” James observed. “My daughter owned one just like her.”
          Joseph thought to look for something his dog could have for dinner. He found dried fish in a cabinet. She caught the pieces, one at a time. He made certain she had clean water to drink. The men watched in silence. She was their first dog sighting since the Sickness.
          Jerry snapped his fingers and tried coaxing Eve to come over, but she only hunkered down with Joseph.
          “Where did you get those chickens, kid? That’s another something we don’t have any of,” Evan Akins inquired. “I would love to have me some eggs of a morning and some roasted bird, now and again.”
          “I can take you where I caught those,” Joseph said, wanting to placate the men and gain their gratitude by helping them out.
          The men nodded.
          “You are coming with us when we leave, aren’t you, son?” James asked. “We have a town of forty-five citizens. It has electricity, automobiles - Lots of the good stuff people used before the Sickness. Tomorrow I want to show you the boat we came on. There are eight more men on board, to make sure nobody can steal it while the rest of us explore the shore.”
          “Not if my Mom does not want to leave here,” the boy said.
          “The women go, no matter what.” There was finality in James’ voice. “And the dog, chickens and pig.”
          Joseph rose from the seat. He drew himself a glass of water and slowly drifted toward his chair. He drank from the glass, then pitched it to the floor and made a sudden dash to the door. He escaped with Eve into the darkness.
          At first, he sought to hide out, but it quickly became apparent he was not being sought at all. The intruders apparently figured Joseph and “his women” would return, driven by hunger and a lack of adequate shelter. But, the quick-minded young man had an alternative scenario in contemplation. First, he must locate his family.
          He visited the intact structures of Spelville, calling out to his family, then went among the debris of the exploded house and gas station. He paused once to study the strangers’ boat that was tied up on the water, sitting flat like a barge, with a superstructure on top, replete with windows and doors. The windows glowed, bright as day, almost. As he passed the fence he and Nicole had built, there issued a loud hiss from within the chicken coop.
          Easing slowly, so as not to alarm the chickens, Nicole and Annie made their way out and through the gate. Mother and son hugged. 
          “What are we going to do?” she whispered.
          “There is a place we can hide, for as long as necessary,” Joseph replied. “We have to go through the woods, to a house I found today and stay there. After they get tired of waiting and leave, we can come home.”
          Nicole threw up her hands. “In the dark?”
          “What other choice is there? Twelve men came in that boat. It will be rough for you in the woods, but it will be far worse if these men catch us.”
          Annie marched like a good soldier toward the trees. Nicole decided to follow and Joseph caught up to take the lead. He tested every step of the way before allowing the women to proceed. He went so overboard with the protective measures he stepped into patches of thorns, a few of which embedded and then broke off.
          It was a relief to find the old road, but not so wonderful to come in the darkest night to the house in which they hoped to shelter. At the last minute, Joseph blocked the entrance. “No. We will pass the night here on the porch. There is so much that needs correcting in there.”
          He did not mention the wild animal that could be holed up and sleeping inside, or the skeleton in the middle of a bed. Now he thought of it, he had not examined the rest of the rooms at all. Morning could not arrive quickly enough. He joined Nicole and Annie on the porch swing, where they attempted to sleep and in fact, managed to doze off by daylight.
          Soon enough, Joseph peeked through his eyelids, not ready to get up, but curious about the surroundings. He noted the front door hanging slightly open, thinking it out of character for him to leave any door like that. Getting up to check it out was the thing to do. Pulling the door wide, he saw his mother, hard at work, cleaning at the years of dust and mold. “Hey,” he said, amazed.
          “Hey,” she replied. “There’s a skeleton in the first bedroom. Get it out, please.”
          “Have you looked in the other rooms, Mom? How are they?”
          “Bad enough. Get the skeleton out and we will take it from there.”
          Joseph created neat piles of bones from the skeleton to make them easy to carry. He went out with the first and biggest assortment, thinking that an easy place to bury them would be near the creek bank, where the trees were widely spaced and the soil slightly damp. Annie had not budged from her spot on the bench. He hoped to divest himself of all bones before she awakened.
          Eve dashed ahead of him. She paused in her tracks, then turned to look at Joseph. She whined, looking upstream.
          He wondered what the dog could be looking at, but he dropped the bones and went back for the rest. Eve barked a few times, before giving it up to trot along beside him.
          The one shovel on the property had lost its handle but had enough blade to dig in, once he whittled a tree branch and shoved it in where the handle had been. He dug only enough to hide the skeleton under a few inches of dirt. Then, he was done. He knew nothing of burial ceremonies or grave markers. After leaning the shovel against the wall by the front door, he looked in on his mother.
          “Do you have a way to fix that window?” she wondered?
          “I’m not sure,” he replied. He wished he could have brought along his tools. “I have to look around.”
          He discovered that one pane of glass, out of all the parts of the window unit, had remained intact. The wood framing the glass had fed termites. After leaning the glass against the wall, he thought about cannibalizing one room for repair materials. He could, in fact, remove a window from a back room and then cover the hole that would be left with just about anything, as the room could 
ultimately be closed off from the rest of the house. He began to scour the property for hammers, nails, screwdrivers.
          Annie, finally up and moving, helped their mother by carrying out and dumping, repeatedly, dustpan loads of trash. Joseph asked if she had seen any of the tools he desperately needed. “The room at the end of the hall, I think,” she said. “There is what looks like a saw in a pile of trash.”
          There was a saw, and, when he lifted it up, there was also a ball-peen hammer and a small crowbar. He was in business. But, first, before anything else, it seemed he ought to see if the fish were biting. The women ought to be getting hungry, by this time. There had as yet been no fishing equipment in evidence, but he could improvise something.
          It was the first time he had approached the water. To his amazement, he came on a recently fished from spot, evidenced by a circular net that was still damp from use and evidenced further by recently discarded fish parts. They could not be alone.
          The young man knew right away how such a net is used. He spread it out and heaved it in the water. As it settled on the bottom, he drew it up and the weights made it close around what potentially became trapped under it. There was a minnow, only, on the first effort. He tossed out the net repeatedly, moving around the bank to access different throw spots. In the end, he had in his possession four rather large fish.
          What had been in the old days an expensive pocket knife always rode in Joseph’s pocket. He would have no problems preparing the catch for their meal. When he mentioned heat to his mother, she smiled. “I found this,” she said. She produced a magnifying glass. Fire then was provided for.
          In a short time, there was a nice blaze near the house. The boy was able to contrive a spit above the flames to hold the fish. They all, including Eve, feasted on as fine a meal as anybody ever had.
          After disposing of the leftovers, Joseph went to look along the stream for clues. He did not have far to look.
          There were footprints, not his, near the water’s edge. A beaten path went from this place, along the bank and then forked, one side keeping to the stream edge, the other meandering into the woods. He chose the woods.
          It was a fine trail, well worn and wide. He was fairly trotting along, more than a bit anxious concerning what lay at the end. There abruptly opened up a great meadow. He instinctively halted to study the terrain. The meadow was rife with clover and tall yellow flowers. Nothing else. He moved along. The trail skirted one side of the meadow and continued back into the woods. Eve had romped ahead until her sounds were lost to his ears. Finally, a small puff of white smoke caught his attention, just above the limb of a dying tree. But for the sparsity of leaves on those drying up branches, it would not have shown at this distance. He had known of a certainty there was somebody here. Now he seemed to be closing in. He paused, alerted by sounds from Eve, of fear and pain, reaching his ears.
          Never had Joseph run so fast. He stumbled over a small hole, caught himself, and in a short order burst upon a scene, of the nicest looking house he had ever seen, with a smoking chimney and a green garden beside a metal shed. Twenty feet from where he came to a hasty halt, Eve, in a snare trap, cowered before a tall wiry person, wielding a machete. The great blade poised as though to strike the dog in the neck.
          “Don’t hurt my dog,” he shouted.
          The stranger whirled, now waving the great knife as a weapon. “A-er-r,” she growled.
          “Let her go,” he pleaded.
          The wiry person appeared to be contemplating courses of action. Joseph fervently hoped the decision would not be one of attack. He let himself down on the trail, sitting, cross-legged, to show he meant no aggression.
          Still, the girl hesitated.
          The standoff ended with her whacking off the rope next to the dog. As Eve ran to her human, the woman stalked off to her house, with hurried, fearful, steps, the machete hand, raised, in case she needed to use it.
          The boy hugged his friend, enjoying licks and kisses, but at the same time felt remorse as the girl entered her home and firmly shut the door. It could not end like that. It simply could not. 
          Presently, Joseph went to her door and knocked upon it. After a moment, he laid his prized pocket knife where it would be visible to her, were she to peek out. Then he retreated, to wait in the distance.
          It took precisely ten minutes before she stepped out and grabbed up the knife, then shut herself in, again. The young man made himself comfortable, stretched out on the ground, with Eve lying beside him. He even slept a bit. When he awakened, the girl was standing nearby, studying his face. In her hand was the pocket knife. Despite naiveté, he could not resist the feeling she appeared to be smitten with him.



CHAPTER FIVE


           He doubted his own ability to converse but felt he must try. “Who are you?” After a pause, he added, “My name is Joseph.”
          “Ah -” Her attempts at speech seemed to catch in her throat.
          “Maybe you can’t speak; you have been alone so long you forgot how.”
          Her head shook ‘no,’ furiously. “I -” she said.
          Coming to his feet, with the fluid motions of the young, he said, “I think I understand. Just wait and, when you are ready, it will come.”
          “I - I-” she said again, then, waving her hand to indicate this home and land are hers, she said, “My. Mine.”
          “It’s the nicest home I ever have seen,” he said admiringly.
           “You. The house by the big water.”
          It was a jolt to his system to realize this woman knew about his presence in Spelville. “You knew and stayed away?”
          Again she waved her hand. “This is mine. No one can take it. Away.”
          He gave her his most sensitive, sincere, look. “Okay. I don’t want your property. What is your name?”
          “Dylan. I had a last name. I don’t recall what it was.”
          “How old are you? I’m nineteen, nearly twenty, now.”
          When Dylan showed no inclination to answer, he went on. “It was you I frightened off, from inside that empty house.”
          “She’s my sister. The one in the bed.”
          “So, you come to remember?”
          “And love.”
          Joseph avoided telling Dylan that he had buried her sister’s bones, but he explained in detail how the men arrived on a boat to take over his home and that he and his family were forced to hide inside her sister’s house.
          They spoke, awkwardly, for a bit.
          “Well. I have to go home, now. My Mom and my sister need me,” he said at last. “May I have your permission to visit you sometimes?”
          Dylan blushed a bit. “Yes, thank you,” she stammered.
          “I promise, you will not be sorry you made me your friend.”
          “I like you,” she said shyly.
          All the way back, Joseph’s heart was singing.  He swaggered into the house, saying, “Mom? Guess what?”
          The house was empty. Those men.
          With a sick feeling deep inside and blind fury to propel him, Joseph raced for home. He was realist enough to know he might be too late to keep the boat from departing. One certainty: It would head upstream because the captors would be eager to show off their prize. He gambled on the boat’s uphill progress to be slow because the river held a strong current.
          A breakneck pace through the wood brought him quickly home. He stormed into the house, finding it as he had been expecting. No one was there. The boat had gone. He would follow it, of course. Joseph packed the full store of dried fish but nothing else. Traveling light enough to maintain a fast pace was the only consideration he could countenance.  He ate a few fortifying bites and gave some chunks to Eve.
          Minutes after setting out, he heard noises, as of someone following. He ducked into a stand of high brush and waited, holding Eve still by petting her head and neck. When nobody appeared, he began to doubt there was anybody there. Suddenly, somebody spoke from behind him.
          “Thanks for waiting for me.”
          Mortified to be caught out so easily, Joseph regarded the broadly grinning Dylan and realized she had likely been behind him the whole way from her house.
          The grin faltered. “I want to see you. Be with you,” she said, uncertainly.
          “It could be dangerous, to be with me. You understand what is happening here? I have lost my mother and sister. I am chasing the boat, to get them back. There could be danger, for both of us.”
          “I want to be with you.”
          Joseph did not have time to discuss the matter. “Suit yourself,” he declared, as he set out again to chase the men on the boat.
          Dylan trotted easily beside him. She said, “I brought walnuts for us to eat.”
         “What? When did you get time to gather up food?”
          She simply smiled and touched his hand. Against his will, almost, Joseph’s mind revisited the sex manual he had sunk in the river. He began to see how the information it contained could be useful, and pleasant, even, when applied to a woman such as she. He wondered how much she knew of those things.
#
          By late afternoon, they could see the boat ahead, valiantly treading against the strong river flow. They discussed the two options of (1) following until the crew landed, or, (2) moving ahead in an attempt to anticipate the final destination. “By a conversation I had with these men, I fear they could live a thousand miles from here,” Joseph lamented. “Our best course, I think, is to keep pace with the boat and hope they stop somewhere along the way.”
          Dylan suggested the boat would stop for the night some place.
          He loved Dylan by now and he felt grateful for her levelness of reasoning. They trailed behind the barge shaped vessel, waiting for it to land. They could not know that the calm backwater the boat settled in had once been the place from which Nicole drew her water and where she first sighted Brady. Four men waded ashore. Joseph identified Jerry Peasalt, James Clayton, and there were another two unidentified with them. They went down a long slope in the direction of a cluster of crumbling rooftops.
          Joseph and Dylan hunkered down, hoping the other eight would follow. When none came ashore, he lay back to rest, using the bag of dried fish as a pillow. Eve curled up to sleep. Dylan snuggled against Joseph and the trio slumbered until morning. When they arose, the sky was still dark. They saw the lights on the boat receding upstream, it already valiantly struggling against the swift water.
          They breakfasted on walnuts, dried fish, and drinks from the river.
          The would-be rescuers had no trouble pacing the boat. They just had no strategy for how to effect a rescue. Only a lucky break could make it a possibility. Then there occurred this thought: The noisy things on the back make the boat go. If they could knock them off or make them stop functioning -
          After that, they paid close attention to four motors that were mounted on the rear of the boat. Joseph entertained a notion that they could be remove and sunk. If he were successful, the men would have to abandon the waterway and walk. Having the women off the boat could present rescue opportunities afresh.
          The next time the boat paused for a sleepover, they paid close attention to which lights burned all night and whether anybody came out for on watch duty. They determined that room lights always went off at bedtime and that the entire crew complacently slept the night through. As he prepared to tread the water and get close to the motors, Dylan advised him, “Did you notice they drain some fuel from the big tanks secured against the wall and then pour it into the motors? They can’t work without the fuel. If you could drain those tanks it would be much easier than moving four heavy machines.”
          Joseph beamed. “You are so smart,” he gushed. “I saw the same thing but failed to grasp it.”
          “You recognize a good idea, which makes you equally smart,” she said, taking his hand. She said, solemnly, “Be careful. I don’t want to lose you.”
          Joseph felt overwhelmed by the emotion of the moment. But he had to shake it off to be effective in his mission. He took leave of her and eased into waist-deep water. By the time he reached the hull he found himself swimming. The clever boat builders had devised a ramp that allowed one to simply grab a side rail and pull one’s self up and walk up to the deck. He tried to move gently, to avoid the sort of noises or vibrations that alert of an intrusion. He came to the tanks, which were fifty-five-gallon drums full of fuel. After a moment’s experimentation, he discovered how to open the cocks to allow the liquid to pour out at a wide-open capacity. Afterward, he heaved himself overboard, in a race to avoid being engulfed in the vile-smelling flood that already sent rivulets into the water. He escaped to the shore, with Eve jumping happily to be reunited with her pal and Dylan hugging him with all her might. “You did it,” she exulted. 
          “But, we have to get away from here,” he said, pointing out that there soon would be twelve very angry men after them, with mayhem in mind.
          They took up their dwindling bags of food and backtracked, hoping their pursuers would give up the chase rather quickly, once they considered the extra walk being added to the journey home. They went off the original trail and into a rocky ravine, hoping to come up in hard to track terrain. At one point, Joseph carried Eve on his shoulders, because she found navigating such big stones impossible. On the other side of the ravine, they made a series of turns and soon were once again traveling upstream.  The going would be extra difficult, because they could not go the exact route the kidnappers would take.
          As it turned out, they made the better progress. Of an early morning, they burst onto a scene, of a bus and a barn-like building, all on a rather good road. As they came close, Dylan said, sounding wistful and hopeful, “If we could learn how to drive it.”
          “We can certainly try,” Joseph declared, striding with long and fast steps right up to the door.
          There was a key lodged in the door keyhole. They had no difficulty getting inside. He eased onto the big driver’s seat and grasped the key that rested in the ignition switch. “When I was a boy,” he explained, “I used to play in the cars in front of my home, that are rusted shut, now. Mom showed me how they were started and how one worked automatically and how you had to shift some gears to drive the other one. I think this one may be an automatic. If so, that is some good luck.”
          Dylan looked on, eagerly. “Well? So try and start it.”
          “We had best coax Eve in here, first. If she hears it doing anything at all, she will run away.”
          Dylan enticed with the last crumbs of dried fish until Eve came up the steps and reached out to snap them up. They cajoled and treated her gently, and finally, she moved into the aisle and settled on the floor. Joseph shut the door and focused on the operation of the vehicle. He was turning the key, the bus rumbling to life when Dylan shouted at him. “They’re coming. I see three of them, running and closing in.”
          Joseph made some right choices and the great wheels turned, in the very instant a burly hand grabbed at the door. They were underway. But the bus jumped into a thick growth of young trees and tall brush, a cushiony barrier, and the quick stop stalled out the engine. The man came through the door and lunged past Dylan, roughly grabbing Joseph, fighting to wrestle him away from the steering wheel. He fought back from an awkward position, as Dylan crooked an arm about the man’s throat and did her best to choke all consciousness out of him. Eve barked, but could not commit to attack the intruder.
          Their struggle went for naught, as the other two men now filled the door, with pistols drawn. The fight was over, the first man stepping away and Dylan and Joseph accepting their defeat. Eve pushed her head against Joseph, seeking reassurance.
          “All right, you two. Get out of the bus.” The first man with a gun had a black beard and cruel green eyes. He was Styxx Malone and the one truly vicious member among the kidnappers.
          The other man with a gun was known as Carl Pring. He stood back, waving his weapon, to urge the couple to move.
          The first man, Jorge Cruz, pulled his clothes straight and followed the two onto the dirt. He stood back a bit to look them over. “Ain’t you two a pair?” he remarked, angry, but showing grudging respect. “Who could have thought you would empty out the fuel like that? You made it hard to get here.”
          He gave Dylan an appraising stare. “But I am glad it happened this way. ‘Cause, now, we got us three women.”
          “She belongs with me,” Joseph cried, angrily.
          Jorge regarded Joseph with steely eyes. “We are civilized men. Ain’t nobody going to get hurt, here. Not unless somebody tries it on us first. But we got to be realists here. We got forty-five men and only three women. We got to work something out and according to law. Law as enacted in New America. That’s our town, New America. Now, you can go along with us, if you swear allegiance to our rules. If not, you are on your own.”
          Joseph made no reply, bristling, still, for Dylan.  He held onto her, tightly, making it plain she would have to be ripped from his grip if they would take her.
          The men were in no hurry to make their move. “We will have perhaps a day’s wait, for the others,” Jorge said, conversationally. “After we lost your track, we three raced ahead, knowing you might find the bus. It was a lucky guess.”
          “Come with us and get some food,” Carl Pring offered. He had long since put away the gun.
          The men could not help staring at Dylan. She stoically endured the attention, but Joseph was certain she had no interest in these men. They entered the barn-like building, where there were abundant stores and equipment brought in from New America, even a banquet table.  Much of the food had been cooked and preserved in canning jars. In addition, there were nuts and dried berries and dried fish.
          Styxx sat across from them at the table, while Jorge Cruz and Carl Pring readied the meal. Carl let them see a canister that, when opened, produced enough heat to warm some canned beans. Another canister heated water for the instant coffee.
          All relished the ample portions of pinto beans. Joseph took a sip of the bitter coffee and pushed his cup away. Dylan sniffed her coffee and also rejected it.
          Styxx knocked Eve away with his foot when she came close, hoping to also be fed. Angered, Joseph went over to the food stores and sought out something for a dog. He found some dried fish and took out a hefty portion. The dog would have snapped it up, but Styxx lumbered forward and snatched it from the hand of the younger man. “That dog provides its own food,” he proclaimed.
          Carl, who had never been fond of Styxx, intervened. “The dog is too busy traveling to be hunting,” he asserted, at the same time grabbing a pack of dried fish and pulling out multiple chunks, that fell on the floor.
          Styxx did not press the issue. He growled a bit as he turned and resumed sitting at the table. He glowered at Carl until his attention moved to Dylan’s cooling coffee. He drained the cup and wiped his mouth with a forearm. After watching Jorge do cleanup a few minutes, he rose and went outside.
          Carl took Styxx’s place. “He’s not so bad,” he confided. Then, reflecting, added. “Maybe he is. But he obeys the rules, just like the rest of us.”
          He nodded to Dylan, then said to Joseph, “You are not a prisoner, you know. All you have to do is tell us you are leaving and you can walk away. Alone, of course. Let me tell you how it would benefit you to join in, instead. New America is a democracy, with strict laws. As a citizen, you would need to learn our laws and obey them. As you were informed, we are civilized people. But, women are included in our constitution in a separate category, not intended to enslave anyone but to ensure the survival of the human race. “And,” he added, “to be truthful, to keep the men from mobbing the women.
          “A woman will be provided a secure habitat. Among her duties to the community is to play host to a revolving succession of the men, who each in his turn will live with the woman. At the end of his three weeks, he will leave the woman’s residence and she will refrain from keeping company with him or any other man until it is determined whether or not she has been made pregnant with child.
          “Don’t interrupt me until I am finished.
          “The woman has certain inalienable rights. Rape, cruelty, or use of force against her, is strictly forbidden. If during his stay, the woman rejects any physical overtures, the relation will stay platonic. In which case, there is no need to delay the next man’s stay, since there is no way for her to be pregnant.
          “Here is where the scenario affects you, personally, young man. The rounds begin with the youngest men and the old ones get to go last. That’s because the young’s loving is more likely to end in pregnancy. You are the youngest of us all. You and your lady will live together for the first three weeks. But if you leave, you and she will never lay eyes on each other again.”
          Joseph was a quick study. “Is it good for everybody to be mixing up like that? I mean, pretty soon, you all would be each other’s relatives.”
         “There is truth in what you are saying. There will be a record made of who fathered whom and we will try to keep the offspring as distant that way as possible. Hangry Jones is one feller you have got to meet. He is building us a airplane and a fleet of drones. One day he will fly to New York City and other places to look for us enough women. He better hurry. Ain’t none of us getting any younger.”   
          Joseph sat in deep contemplation. He knew he would stay on, just to be near Dylan and his family. He also knew he would seek a way to rescue them. To that end, signing pledges, and not intending to honor them, figured with his plans, for he considered it duress and duress negated any contract.
          Carl stood up and looked around for his companions. He saw Styxx had returned and they all were in the back, resting on bunks. One of them had already padlocked the entry door. “We had best get some rest,” he observed. “When the others catch up, we are planning on driving straight through.”
          He went to a bunk that had not even a sheet and took to his bed, shoes and all.
          Joseph and Dylan continued sitting at the table, spending as much time alone as they could. Their hands touching, their eyes seeing deeply into each other’s, they made plans for how to spend the time in New America.


CHAPTER SIX


          He felt as though he had just laid his head upon the hard, flat, pillow when Carl and Styxx shook the bed frame and whacked a stick against the headboard. To Carl, it was high humor, to razz a somebody that way. Joseph sat up to discover that Dylan already was on her feet. The main body of travelers had arrived. For the first time, they saw the total of men all together. And, behind the clustered group, Nicole and Annie attempting to break through, so they could be with Joseph. He grabbed Dylan by the arm. “There’s my family,” he said, trying to drag her with him.
          It was a bitter reunion, with the women crying, trying to tell him at once all that had happened, and Joseph attempting to gather them together in one big hug. He soon was able to introduce Dylan and explain from whence she arrived.
          Nicole’s smile told Joseph he had her blessing to be with Dylan. Before they could carry on further, Jerry Peasalt announced it was time to board the bus.
          The women were invited in first and told to make themselves comfortable in back, to prepare for a long ride. The men were segregated, except for Joseph, who was allowed to be with his family.
          In the darkest night, they set out, on a long, rough, road, as everybody slept, with the exception of the driver and one who rode shotgun. There were long grades and frequent turns, after a few hours, and one long downward ride, before all leveled off, as, by now, the sun set the horizon aglow. They passed through ghost towns and graveyards of dead vehicles nearly blocking stretches of road. And then they topped a rise and there it was: New America: A sparkling valley, with a river across the center of it. Well kept homes, with lawns and sidewalks and automobiles in the driveways.
          The bus driver honked at a few passing autos as they rode into town. After four blocks the bus pulled in and came to rest in a pavilion built for official vehicles, such as buses, cop cars (they had two), four fire trucks and an ambulance. Across from the pavilion, the public buildings, including CITY HALL, LIBRARY, and FIRE DEPARTMENT were identified by large block letter signs. Watching from a seat window, Joseph judged by the dilapidated conditions of most structures across the river that just one side of the town was in use. He saw a growing crowd gathered, as word spread that the Searchers, as they were called, had returned. When it was learned they had brought some women, the men, for several minutes, became raucous, cheering and clapping. But they quickly sobered up, to wait quietly for the females to be introduced.
          As the male occupants, excepting Joseph, exited the bus, all gathered close. Jerry Peasalt shook Mayor Jack Crackie’s hand and delivered a vocal report on a quest fulfilled.
          “Citizens,” he said, projecting his voice, that all might hear, “You need to know we found three women on this trip.” He waited for the cheers to die down before speaking further. “All in all, we added four members to society. The male and one female, siblings, are very young. They were born in the wake of the Sickness, which tells me, humans just may have a future.” The listeners eagerly crowded near, so as not to miss a word. “They are about nineteen and twenty one. (cheers) I caution you that the female is very fragile. It would not take a lot to destroy her. I ask you to treat this girl gently. The mother is here, and she has physical handicaps. At any rate, I think she is not likely to be able to produce a child. The third one is a healthy specimen. She has a mate already. He is going to resent having to share her. I ask that you consider their relationship when dealing with them.“ He paused, not certain of himself in what he was about to say. “The schedule for living arrangements with the women will be posted tomorrow or the next day. Now; we are tired. After we introduce the new citizens, we are about to move them into the compound and then take our rest. I ask you all to be quiet and respectful when we bring them out.”
          “We ain’t animals,” Steve Varney - the auto mechanic - said, resentfully.
          “I know you aren’t,” Jerry said, apologetically. “I just felt it had to be said.”
          Jorge Cruz poked his head inside the bus to coax the newcomers out. The first one down the steps was Joseph. Determined to shield the women as best he could, he stood by to help them down, although just Nicole required any consideration. Dylan came out, then Annie. Nicole held her son’s hand on the way down. And they waited, enduring the town’s stares, Dylan with her arm crooked inside Joseph’s, Annie trying to hide behind the couple and Nicole eyeing neutral territory.
          “First, a mate to Joseph Kerr:” announced Jerry Peasalt, “is Dylan, with one name. Behind them: Annie Kerr. And, Nicole Pearson, a very impressive person, once you know her story.”
          Mixed applause and greetings from the audience. A few tried stepping forward to voice their emotions but were blocked from getting close. Then an armed procession of Jerry Peasalt, Jorge Cruz, Edgar Snossile, Mayor Jack Crackie, and Styxx Malone led the newcomers to the compound.
          A tall wrought iron gate swung aside, allowing entry to a set of three duplex houses, with elaborate patios, landscaping, and a combined gym and recreational complex. Also a jogging trail.
          Jack Crackie came along, after dismissing the escorts, to show them the ropes. He felt they just needed to see the amenities and to be given the opportunity to ask questions, before being left on their own. He made certain they could safely operate the electric range and make proper use of the toilet. He knew the older women likely recalled such things from pre Sickness days, but it could not hurt to be served a refresher course. “Do you have any questions, before I leave you alone?” he said, turning, hopefully, to leave, without further issues.
          “I have,” Dylan responded.
          The poor man paused, as though fully expecting to be verbally abused.
          The woman‘s response was civil, however. “Why can’t women make their own choices?” she demanded to know. “In the end, the result would be the same: children to propagate the race. Happy women raise up healthier families.”
          Mayor Crackie nodded, sadly. “Yes,” he replied. “In a better world, that would be an appropriate way to deal with the situation. I have been proscribed from mentioning something that happened here, about three years back. The reason I am going to break the rule and tell you is that I think you will become better inclined to cooperate, once you learn of it.”
          Crackie looked about as if to be certain no long time residents were within hearing. His voice was guarded. “There was another woman,” he began. “She wandered in, on her own, trusting she would be received as a human being. There was such a stampede of eager, woman hungry souls - She didn’t survive the first hour. The ones that responded that way expressed remorse. Fat good it did poor Marie. That was why the constitution was rewritten, regarding women, and law enforcement was beefed up. The penalty now for harming any woman is death by stoning, like in the Bible. But, I assure you; if these men believed they had no hope of knowing a woman, ever again, there would be riots and civil war, no matter what law enforcement we have.”
          “Maybe the Sickness was a good thing,” Dylan said.
          Joseph winced. “You really believe that?”
          She looked apologetically at him. “No,” she said. “But it troubles me that humans can be so uncivil.”
          “It troubles me, too,” Crackie said, soberly.
          They watched the gate being locked behind the Mayor, and a sentry left to stand guard in a little shelter nearby. “Well,” Joseph said. “They didn’t assign the homes. Let us go pick ours out.”
          Nicole wanted to be next door to Annie, to be better able to “keep an eye on her.” They took possession of A and B. Joseph chose C.
          Every unit came with two bedrooms and two baths, located near the front, and down a long hall. They each chose the front rooms.  Later, everyone gathered on Nicole’s patio, to drink instant tea and talk. Compared to their own homes, these duplexes were luxurious. Still, they preferred Spelville. When they spoke of the men expecting to move in with Nicole and Annie, they agreed that being polite and friendly, if possible, was the best approach.  Annie did not know if she could manage that, but she would try to be decent to them. So fragile was she, in the presence of a man, she did not know if she would be able to stay in the same building.
          Nicole had triumphed over so much in her life that she felt she would endure, so long as the men obeyed the rules.
          Dylan’s strength and audacity made it seem possible that she would dominate the males.
          Joseph, once he joined the general population, would look for weaknesses in the system, until it came to him how they would escape. He hoped their getaway could include something like the bus they came in, for there could be no walking to Spelville.
          Bedtime came early, for the last several days had instilled weariness, and one by one they dropped on their beds like stones and lay as still as stones until late in the morning.
          The boarders met to have their breakfast and to wait for the New Americans to make the next moves. Subdued, yet defiant, they watched the gate to see who would be coming through.
          It was almost noon, when the trio of Mayor Crackie, Jerry Peasalt, and James Clayborn paused to unlock the great iron gate and to stroll into the compound. The mayor held in his soft hand The List. He posted this complex schedule, which attempted to give all the men a shot at each woman in a fair and equitable manner, on the board. The first three candidates were, Joseph Kerr, James Clayborn, and “Big” Pomeroy Ames. Joseph, of course to Dylan; Clayborn to Nicole; Big Pomeroy to Annie.
          James told Nicole he could understand if she preferred he trade his billet with someone else since he was among the ones that kidnapped her. He truly was sorry and he wished he had not had a role in it; it hurt his self-esteem to no end. In fact, he had surrendered his job as a Searcher and volunteered to assist Hangry Jones, the airplane mechanic.
          She listened to him, most patiently, and then she replied, it would not matter who came to her home, they would be treated well, so long as they observed the rules, as they had been recited to her.
          Jerry Peasalt asked if they had questions and when they did not he said the guests would knock on their doors at noon, next day.
          Joseph and Dylan ran the jogging trail a few times and used the gym for an hour. They went home, leaving Nicole and Annie to themselves. They felt very protective of the two but were awkward when it came to reassuring them.
          Later, the four ’guests,’ or, ’prisoners,’ depending on which side of the equation one made the determination, ate together and cleaned up together. They sat around, most of the night, on Nicole’s patio. At noon, precisely, James and Big Pomeroy came through the wrought iron gate, pulling wheeled suitcases behind them. James wore a nice shirt and brown pants. His shoes twinkled at them. Big Pomeroy came in vertical stripes and corduroy trousers. He was shorter than Jones by eighteen inches but outweighed him by double; hence, the nickname, “Big.”
          The ladies and Joseph stood to greet them and James told the women how lovely they looked. Jones had to carry the conversation all by himself, for a time. Big Pomeroy bore the look of a fool. There is no polite way to describe him. Whenever James made a point that even slightly glimmered inside his brain, he nodded, eagerly, and made a sort of combined giggle/chuckle sound. More and more, Annie began to look sick over the prospect of allowing him inside her duplex apartment. When he asked her to show him where to stash his suitcase full of belongings, she quailed and held on to her mother for support.  It required several minutes of soothing talk from James to calm her down. “He is just as stressed as you. He has never been close to any woman, his whole life. Not even a mother, sister, or cousin.”
          Big Pomeroy had stood by, looking troubled and tearful. “Yeah, stressed,” he said, humbly.
          They all six went into Annie’s place and James and Joseph escorted Big Pomeroy to his room. He looked about at the tan walls, oaken chest of drawers and blue sheet over a king-size bed, his great eyes rolling with wonder. 
          “Pomeroy,” James said, “let me ask you: Are you mature enough for this? Can you handle the emotions of being alone with a woman, like this? It’s no disgrace if you back off and let this go.”
          Big Pomeroy turned on James, suddenly not meek, suddenly willing to become fierce. “You can’t take this away from me. I love Annie. I just want to be nice to her.”
          “All right,” James replied. “Only you can make choices, here. Within the law.”
          “Leave me alone. I just want to start my turn with her. With Annie.”
          But Annie stayed on Nicole’s patio, as far from Big Pomeroy as she could get. All stayed out there, until dinner time. Then they fixed the meal inside Nicole’s apartment. Big Pomeroy ate a little, but, mostly, clung by the door, hoping for Annie to give it up and come home with him.
          James became a fast friend. They hung on every word he said. When finally it became too late to sit up any longer, Nicole asked Annie if she would sleep with her. Annie replied that she was not used to spending all of her time with people. She needed aloneness, and rest. Anyway, “The man has to stay out of my room if I tell him I don’t want him there.”
          They all looked at Big Pomeroy, who responded as though he understood perfectly.
          Nicole and James remained on the patio, as Joseph and Dylan went inside and to bed. They opted to stay fully dressed, this night, for they knew not what this invasion on their lives could bring.
          The dark was long-lasting, cool, quiet. When, finally, the night curtain lifted, Joseph awoke, refreshed and craving breakfast. His movement roused Dylan, who quickly changed into different clothes. They flicked on a light, in part to notify the others they were up. His thoughts turned to Annie so strongly he immediately moved to see how she endured her strange night. He and Dylan approached the door with the letter A above it and quietly let themselves in. He flipped the light switch by the door and the two trod the carpeted floor, he poking his head into the bedroom.
          At first, he just saw Big Pomeroy, who moved slightly, turning his head toward Joseph, breaking into a satisfied smile. “We love each other,” he said, contentedly.
          Then he saw his sister on the other side of that big overblown body. He saw her only from the neck down. A pillow covered her face. He was sure, by the unnatural pose, that she was long dead. “Go get James,” he told Dylan, who had first to force her head past Joseph, to see into the room.
          After seeing Annie, she sprinted away.
          Joseph stared in horror, uncertain what to do to Big Pomeroy. So he waited for James to arrive instead of making a decision.
          James arrived, all by himself, having forbidden Dylan and Nicole to come along. First, he leaned over Big Pomeroy to lift away Annie’s pillow. The simpleton watched him operate, curiously. “Ain’t she sweet?” he said.
          After confirming Annie was dead, James gathered her family into Nicole’s place, telling them to remain there until somebody came for them. He went off to find the mayor.
          Before long, Mayor Crackie, along with the town’s police officers, came and led Big Pomeroy out the gate. He was taken to jail, at first. Within the hour he was taken to the pit and shackled. He did not seem to comprehend why they were doing this to him.
          James asked Joseph and the women if they would attend the stoning?
SPELVILLE                                                                                                                                 90


Only he accepted. He and James joined a crowd of thirty or so, most of whom gripped the heavy stones they intended to launch the minute Mayor Crackie finished speaking. That the object of fury was a simpleton dissuaded no one. “You want stones?” somebody enquired of Joseph.
          Joseph shook his head “no.”
          “See that man standing out front?” James pointed. “That’s Hangry Jones.  By the time I volunteered to act as his helper, he had the plane ready and was experimenting to get the fuel right. Likely you don’t know about planes. This one’s a Globemaster cargo ship. Wait. I think the stoning’s about to begin.”
          Joseph saw men hefting their projectiles to let fly, waiting only, for an unstated reason, on Hangry to lob his. The airplane mechanic tossed one, half-heartedly, then turned away. For the next few minutes, stones filled the air, each landing with a heavy thud. He never heard Big Pomeroy cry out or even groan.


CHAPTER SEVEN


          The cemetery grounds were two acres of weed-strewn dirt, with just three graves and one pending, two with Edgar Snossile’s parents and another one housed Big Pomeroy’s remains. They had gathered to inter Annie.  Joseph wondered what means had been employed to dispose of Sickness victims since none were represented here.
          He sat stoically at Dylan’s side, on some folding chairs provided for Annie’s family. Nicole stayed away. Her life had born many tragedies. This was perhaps the worst one. She stayed in her room, alone in the dim light, with Eve asleep at her feet.
          Joseph thought of the cleric at the podium as a medicine man, like in a few novels he had read. The man voiced platitudes, having no clue about the woman in the coffin and thus no emotional attachment.
         They did not wait for the dirt to be heaved into the grave. Slipping by with no escort, he and Dylan returned to the compound. Sitting desultorily on Nicole’s patio, they were a little surprised when James dropped in to commiserate.
          “I can’t blame just Pomeroy or the ones made up the list,” James said philosophically. “Anyone could see he was unstable, including me. I let it go on. I never saw the man as a threat and I still don’t believe there was murder in his heart. He used the pillow to keep her quiet, when he was on her, not realizing she could no longer breathe. I’m sorry as can be. Do you think I am allowed to offer condolences to Nicole? I have great respect and affection for that woman. I don’t want to make things worse for her.”
          “I don’t know,” Joseph replied. “Why don’t you go to her door and ask to come in? She would be the one to answer you.”
          James did just that, approaching her room, with Joseph and Dylan close at his elbows as observers. He peeked in. Nicole had wrapped her arms around Eve , holding on to the dog as she might have held her Annie, rocking lightly, eyes closed.
          James spoke, barely audibly. “Nicole?”
          The distraught woman showed no sign of having heard him. James inched forward and touched her. She opened her eyes for him and they closed, then, and squeezed out some tears. He sat beside her and the dog she held, in silence. After a time, she placed her hand over his, still rocking Eve, still not seeing. They made an odd trio; he, tall, ebony and strong; Eve, the sympathetic Laborador Retriever; Nicole, pepper haired, bent, crippled.
          Joseph and Dylan had gone into the kitchen, to make a breakfast style lunch for them. After, Dylan sat back in her chair, watching Joseph pace the floor. “Do you think they will go on with this crazy visitors thing?” she wondered.
          Joseph paused before her, grim, troubled. “They will. They are going to keep this going, no matter what.”
          James left the compound and it was a few hours later when he returned. He had persuaded the Mayor to get a period of mourning established for the women before the visits could resume. He spoke of his role in their kidnapping. “At the time we wrote the visits into the constitution, there were no prospects of women and it seemed reasonable. Getting to know an actual person changes all that and I never would have done it.”
          He said he would love to introduce them to his friend, Hangry Jones. When Joseph assented, James had only to go as far as the door to motion Hangry in.
          The resident airplane mechanic was a long and lanky sort, the kind one might expect to see in a Gary Cooper western. His face seemed to smile, while its features remained rigid. He removed his hat and shook their hands.
          Joseph liked Hangry right away. The man was humble, yet strong. He seemed genuinely interested in the people around him. Then, Hangry explained about his flight project and why he was in love with this Globemaster cargo plane.  “Dependable, carries huge cargos long distances -”
          Next, he confided the real reason he had chosen to meet with them. “My plane flies. It doesn’t need any more new work. James has presented me with the challenge that I should fly you back to your home. I could get stoned for even considering it. I think it is worth taking a risk.”
          James put in that he and Hangry would work out the details. Hopefully, the parts all would fall into place in just a few days.
          Joseph managed to bring Nicole out of her room for the evening meal. He had also invited James, because her affection for the man was so obvious and because his patter was enough to lift a dull occasion. During the course of the dinner, James confided he would be Hangry’s copilot. “He is teaching me about those dials and controls. We’re taking the first official flight, tomorrow. It’s to be a surprise to the town. They haven’t a clue.”
          The conspirators ate with gusto. Even Nicole ate well. Eve happily consumed the scraps they tossed on the floor.
          The next afternoon, James came to share the story of the first flight of “Phoenix,” as Hangry dubbed the cargo plane. He said all went well, the first five minutes, then the engines quit; there were a few anxious moments; then they kicked in again. “It was the sweetest flight ever, from that point on. The Mayor thinks we are planning an adventure to Chicago, for the first exploring flight, in just a few days. He doesn’t know we have just enough fuel to go to where you live and perhaps get back home safely.”
          James concluded the narrative with a great grin on his face.
          Joseph eyed the man with great admiration. Then, he worried about he and Hangry’s fate at the hands of what was sure to be an angry mob, on their return.
          “I kind of hoped you might invite me to stay on, at Spelville,” the man of ebony replied.
          The next days dragged, for Joseph and Dylan. They enjoyed their private time in Dylan’s apartment and they expended extra efforts preparing meals. Often they sat with Nicole on her patio, joined by James, at times. He confided that he and Hangry had been practicing luring the gate guard away, for beer, in a popular club. At first, the man jealously guarded the key the whole time. Then, he just left it to hang at the station. The stage was almost set.
          On a day they selected, the guard had grown tired of the daily bouts of drunkenness. He insisted he ought to stay in the little shack. Hangry approached him with an ice-cold beer. Once the man tasted the first sip, he was on the hook. He once again left the key unguarded.
          James immediately came to unlock the gate. He waved to Joseph, sitting on Nicole’s patio, to alert him the plan was in action. Hangry had left the plane with its engine running and he planned to give the guard the slip as quickly as possible, so, they needed to hurry.
          James waited in an alley between the closest buildings, until he saw them coming. Then he started slowly down to the end, reaching the open street, just as they were catching up to him. This was the most dangerous spot for them to pass because several occupied buildings there had plate glass windows. The women donned men’s hats and wore trousers, for the occasion. Still, to the discerning eye, they were unmistakably female. The hope was, the casual lookers would not be expecting women and would be too absorbed in their own affairs to be alerted.
          James actually waved, to one soul on the sidewalk, before the trek was safely made and they were on the road to the airstrip. They met a waiting sedan and were so transported the final mile.
          Meanwhile, the man to whom James had waved, experienced a delayed moment of cognition. He rushed into the police department to report that the women were in the act of escaping. Michael Abney, Chief of Police, took the information with mounting concern. He went to the compound, to see if the man knew what he was talking about. When Abney found the gate locked, and no guard or key, he drove around to gather his police officers and to stop long enough to inform the mayor. Simple police work told them that James had been leading them toward the plane of Hangry Jones. Sirens blaring, the two police cars threaded the streets, hoping Jones would need to warm the engine before his cargo plane would be drivable.
          They came upon the landing strip, just as the Globemaster went in the sky. The deputy fired a few rounds, to no effect.
#
          “Welcome aboard,” Hangry greeted his passengers, shaking hands, ushering them aboard. At the last instant, Eve had bolted and Joseph was forced to let her run. He hated losing the dog as much as he loved getting airborne and away.
          The rumbling old airplane rode as roughly as had the bus, but they folded the canvass seats away from the bulkhead and settled in them, confident in Hangry’s abilities as both mechanic and pilot.
          James came back from the cockpit a few times to reassure his friends and to point out how to access the refreshments. He told of how he had loaded a cargo of useful items they were sure to appreciate at home.
          The altitude was held at six thousand feet, to protect the eardrums, as the cabin could not pressurize itself. There were no really high mountains, en route, and it seemed unimaginable that other planes would also be flying. Bird collisions? They took their chances.
          Joseph and Dylan joined hands and rode in silence.
#
          Back in New America, a group of fifteen angry men, led by Styxx Malone, were loading provisions and guns into the bus and preparing it for a hard drive to the boat that would take them downstream, to Spelville. Hard liquor was loaded. Styxx vowed that he would bring the women back, or they would die in a hail of bullets.
#
          As the plane approached Spelville, James guided Hangry to the meadow between Nicole’s and Dylan’s homes. It was the only place with room for such a plane to land and take off. It would be a bumpy landing, but he felt it was doable. He came out, to advise the passengers to hang on tight before he returned to the cockpit and Hangry Jones began the descent.
          After the first bump, the old plane rattled and jumped over the dry meadow. The dirt was hard because there had been no rain on it for several weeks. They slowly came to a standstill. Hangry let the engines run, as they unloaded the cargo, preparing to take their leave.
          The pilot was given a group hug and more than a few rounds of thank yous. They wondered if he could in some way avoid the stoning the community of disappointed souls would be clamoring for. He broke up their speculations by telling the story, of the woman named Marie, and his part in her destruction, as his ordinarily impassive face contorted in misery. He ended the discourse with the simple statement, “While I did not touch her personally, I took part in the hysteria that ended her.” He made a final goodbye and took his place again in his restored plane.
          The sturdy old airplane taxied around and rolled to the farthest reaches of the meadow, to get the longest stretch of runway possible, for the weeds and roughness of the turf would slow his speed, considerably. It was a gamble to even try. He throttled the plane forward, waving at the onlooking group on the ground. Then the great machine struggled until the wind lifted it. Tall trees loomed in the way, until the Globemaster responded and swooped into the sky.
          Hangry was not familiar with the route the bus had taken, before. But, he knew without having been informed there would be some diehards in it, on the way to recapture the women. He spotted the river, as described to him by James, and soon discovered the barn-like structure that marked the location of the road to New America. He had only to follow the road, from there.
          Hangry broke into song as the plane carried him steadfastly along. He sang, “Come to the church in the wildwood,” every verse, endlessly, and did not fall silent until he had traced the road, all the way to within sight of the bus, toiling in the heat of the late afternoon. He flew low until he could see the driver, Styxx Malone, and they each waved. He came up and slowly made a big circle. He bypassed the lumbering vehicle a couple of times, before flying off enough distance to build his speed. Then he eased his altitude to a mere five feet above that rugged road. Styxx likely saw the old plane descend in his path, as the bus seemed to swerve to the left, a fraction of a second before the full-frontal impact that smashed both vehicles, trapping any probable survivors in a ball of fire. The wreckage burned in lonely isolation, on the most deserted stretch of the road. The Searchers were no more. And, Hangry Jones had erased the memory of the girl, Marie.


CHAPTER EIGHT


          Among the items James had provided was a wagon, such as stores had once sold industrious homeowners, to transport the stuff of do it yourself projects. He loaded the wagon down with jars of canned goods. He and Joseph could make some return trips for the utensils and tools left on the ground.
          The wagon rolled very well on the improvised wheels that had been made necessary by the rotting off of the original rubber tires. They traded shifts pulling and Dylan assisted Nicole’s progress, as needed, though she was doing pretty well on her own.
          When they cleared the woods and moved into Spelville, Joseph rejoiced. He never wanted to be away from his home again.
          James remarked that he could not believe the primitive condition of the place.
          Nicole reminded him that she had raised two children, alone, here, with no knowledge of the industries that could return to her the conveniences of the early 21ST Century.
          James allowed that he could help out with some of that.
          Dylan and Joseph loaded up the pantry with the jars and they decided to immediately bring back the rest of the supplies. They invited James to care for Nicole.
#
          The sun had hidden behind the empty buildings and outbuildings, bringing the two to leave the wagon loaded, overnight. They came in to the smell of a meal cooking and James hovering over the pot, spoon in hand. A breeze from the open windows carried much heat from the iron stove out of the room. Nicole, they noted, was napping on the old couch. There were signs she had been listening to Annie’s record collection, before surrendering herself to fatigue.
          “I’ve been spoiled, living in a town that has electricity and gasoline,” James told them. “I know how to make a solar panel, but I lack the knowledge to convert the electricity to run in wires. And if I could, I don’t think anything here could be made to work. Everything is decayed and broken.”
          “I know where you can get some good appliances,” Dylan said, brightly. “My house.”
          James looked quizzically and said, “Your house? What makes your stuff better than what we have here?”
          “My father built the best house ever and I have taken good care of it.”
          “Well, when I get to the point where we need something, can we go get it?”
          Dylan was beaming. “Of course. Now that I belong with him -” she indicated Joseph - “what’s mine is his.”
          It seemed to not occur to anybody that it could be a step up to simply move into her house. Perhaps because all secretly knew that Nicole would never forsake her home?
          James gently woke Nicole from her slumber. She agreed to come sample his “famous” stew. So the first meal together as a family became a huge success, with Nicole eating a healthy portion, James having a bowl and a half and Joseph and Dylan eating until the pot had been scraped clean.
          After clean up and a session of easy camaraderie, it was bedtime. Joseph suggested a temporary bed for James. There was an uncomfortable pause, and then Nicole took James by the hand. “He has a bed,” she said sweetly.
          Joseph overcame his surprise, instantly equating his bond with Dylan to her bond with the ebony gentleman. “All Right.” He shook James’ hand. “Well; good night.”
          He went in to join Dylan, who already had gone in and begun undressing. He could not allow himself to imagine his Mom and James doing the same as he and she, “What a day,” he said.
          As he eased into the bed and held her in his arms, she said, “Can we go to my house, for a few days? It can be like a honeymoon. And it will give James and your Mom alone time together.”
          Anything this incredible woman even hinted about wanting was fine with Joseph. He readily agreed.
          He waited until an hour or so after breakfast to let Nicole know their plans. She said she didn’t mind, that they were free to do what they like. He could see a different kind of maturity in her that had not been, prior to losing Annie and gaining James. He touched her cheek a moment and there flowed a bond of love between them that could never be changed, no matter the circumstances they found themselves in.
          He spent a few minutes with James, to let him know he would be taking Dylan away for a few days.
          “Don’t let my presence chase you off,” was the rejoinder. “I have begun to think of us as family.”
          “Don’t worry,” Joseph said earnestly. “Dylan and I both love you.”
          On the way through the woods, Dylan said she would stop in to “visit her sister.” He found himself explaining why her sister’s bones were taken out and buried in the ground. She did not speak, but proceeded ahead, the occasional tear slipping down her cheek.
          Dylan broke the silence as they neared the old house. “Show me where you put her,” she said.
          Near the bank of the stream, he located the plot where the bones were buried. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize what I was doing was wrong.”
          Dylan kneeled and dug her hands in the dirt. “I’m the one who is wrong, I guess,” she answered. “I ought to have buried her, but then I would have been totally alone. At least I had what remained of her, to visit.”
          “I spoiled it for you.”
          “I want to put a marker here, tomorrow.”
          She lingered a few minutes more, then wiped her hands on a pant leg and rejoined Joseph, to continue to the honeymoon.
          Coming on the site where they first saw one another and she had Eve trapped in a snare, she said, “I am sorry I caught your dog. I almost killed it because it was big enough to hurt me.”
          Dylan’s house was a piece of fine carpentry, with siding and roofing selected to last over a lifetime. The wide overhang prevented the weather from working on the vulnerable parts, particularly window frames. A great porch protected the house front. The door face was metal. When she opened it, Joseph could see that everything was very much as Dylan’s father had intended it. She had been extremely gentle and had kept it all clean. The lack of running water prompted her to cover over the plumbing fixtures, preserving them on the chance the flow might be restored. “I have nuts and dried berries in the kitchen. My garden could be dead. We should go see. Then, we can catch fish, when needed.”
          Dylan’s vegetables were overgrown with weeds and some varieties were shriveled. She said they could preserve the seeds to plant again. She took a spade to dig a few carrots. After wiping away the dirt, she offered Joseph one. While he had tasted cooked ones in New America’s canned stuff, he had never seen, much less held, a fresh raw carrot. He bit into it, savoring the crunchy sweetness. Dylan looked on, proudly smiling.
          “You look much as you did when a small boy, doing things in your yard,” she observed.
          “How do you know?” he said with some shock. “Were you hiding somewhere, watching?”
          “Of course. I watched as much of your family as I could. I became very attracted to you once you became a man. But always I was afraid. Also -” She gave her man a long, deep, stare. “I am your mother’s age.”
          More than a bit surprised, Joseph absorbed the revelation. He vowed it made no difference. He continued to love and need her, no matter what.
          Joseph explored the house, often asking of her how such and such worked; what did it do? When he walked into the bedroom, it was like walking into a dreamland. Never had he known the luxury of such a bed.  He invited Dylan to help him try it out.
#
          They honeymooned for a week until they felt they had to get back. Arriving home, they walked up on James, hard at work trying to solve a solar panel. “There is a gap in my education, keeping me from giving us some electricity.”
          On a hunch, Joseph went to the trove of books he had found. He decided to sort them according to subject matter. It was his hope there would be information James could put to use. It surprised him that working with books in that way could be so much work. After a few hours, he found himself tiring. He sought out Dylan, who was keeping company with Nicole. She had been listening to an accounting of the time spent with Joe Kerr; also an aside, in which Nicole made her understand about the healing properties of the contents of the drum full of undefined black goop. Joseph knew the story, both from experience and re-enforcement provided by his Mom’s tales. The memory of the fire and exploding gas station were vivid. His father’s demise had brought him pain, for Joe had treated him alone fairly well. At the time, his awareness of the man’s crimes against his mother and sister were only dimly perceived. It took his mother’s retelling the story numbers of times before he began to understand what had been at stake in those times.
          When he told Dylan of his project with the books, she volunteered to help with the sorting. By the time he explained his system of order, they were all set up. None contained electrical information. “Looks like a waste,” he said, feeling cheated.
          “Here is one on childbirth,” Dylan said, somewhat demurely.
          “Oh, it would be helpful, if -” He read in Dylan the truth and quit speaking. Here was a consequence of their relationship he had not even considered. The fact of it weighed upon him even as exaltation overwhelmed all other reactions and they squeezed each other tightly for a long time. “Let’s go tell my Mom,” he suggested.
          Nicole’s excitement rivaled their own. “I almost hope it’s a boy,” she pronounced. “Woman’s life is too hard.”
          After reading the disappointment in Dylan’s reaction, she relented. “But a girl will be lovely.”
          The next months were busy ones, with James and Joseph teaming to make life better. They brought seeds from Dylan’s garden, to add variety. They constructed an out of doors cooker for summer months.  There still was no electricity. But, James had brought Dylan’s generator home, to see if it could be made operational.
          As the season progressed, thundershowers popped up almost daily, with destructive lightning and more rain than anybody there ever had seen. And then one day, the sky became still and green. They sought shelter, feeling that no measures they took could save them. After a suspenseful wait, they heard a heavy rumbling, following the river, until it jumped the curve and bore down on Spelville, chewing up the ground and everything attached to it. The great destruction barely missed their home. In the end, one of the other houses and two outbuildings were reduced to rubble. The piers had been taken out and there was a long track of splintered trees deep into the woods. The greatest loss: that precious barrel, with the life-saving gunk, had been taken by the storm.
          In the dog days to follow, life resumed its normal flow.
          One day, Jerry Peasalt and Edgar Snossile appeared at the door. Wearing beards and hair so long and unkempt as to be nearly unrecognizable, they stood grinning, over the confusion their arrival caused. Then Jerry stepped forward and spoke in his unmistakable voice. “It‘s us. Got any fatted calves?”
          James produced an instant grin The broadest grin he was capable of. “Jerry. And, who’s this?”
          “It’s Edgar,” Joseph said with conviction.
          “If you are here for our women -” James said, feigning his best fighting stance.
          “No,” Jerry replied. “We want to join you and build a town here, the like of New America, but with better citizens.”
          “We don’t have the same resources as they,” James said. “But you are welcome to help make what we’ve got better. Right, Nicole? I feel it’s your decision, not ours, to make.”
          “If it will make a future for my grandchild, I am for it,” she stated proudly.
          The newcomers were pleased with Dylan’s pregnancy. They vowed to make life pleasant for women and children.
          “You came alone?” James enquired.
          “Would you believe, we started with ten of us? We hit some hard going, with no water and practically no food. It was like a miracle that we two survived.  Jorge and Evan got washed down a gully.” He looked guiltily around. “We ate John Avais.”
          That last statement brought total silence.
          After a bit, Dylan showed them where to bathe, but they were on their own, clothing-wise.
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          Edgar was able to show James and Joseph how to make a solar panel to work. The house wiring had a number of issues. Within a week, the lights burned. But the old bulbs lasted about an hour and they were again in darkness.
          Dylan’s house was ransacked for useful items.
         One evening, as all sat to relax and visit before bedtime, a scratch and a few yelps signaled that there was a dog right outside the door. Dylan sprung up to look, cautiously opening it a crack. She felt Eve’s nose poking at her fingers. “She’s back,” she shouted, flinging the door wide.
          The skin and bones dog wagged her entire body, so glad to be home again. She seemed torn between Joseph and Nicole, until Joseph sat with his mother, to allow her to love them both. Dylan had gone off to get her some food and water. Soon, the poor dog was full and asleep at their feet. “What a tale she must have,” Jerry said. “Something to rival our own.”
          The men were designing and beginning work on a new pier when the storms returned. Days as dark as night prevailed, for forty long days. It was a time of nonstop flooding rains, falling for days at a time, a daily fear everything - and everyone -  would get washed away. And then the rain ended. Within days, once the skies were cleared, unbearable heat became the norm. Severe drought quickly seized the land, until a dead forest replaced the beautiful live one. The garden had already lost all to flooding. As the great river became a trickle, the fish and turtles became easier to catch. This was a good thing, so
long as the water did not completely dry up, for the river had become the sole resource for food.
          The baby came, weak, underweight, and Dylan’s milk could not sustain the unlucky little boy. He died, at just two weeks old.
          Joseph and James secretly began to watch Jerry and Edgar, remembering as they did the admission of cannibalism. They felt they were being watched the same way. Mutual suspicion began to fray the relationship.
          Somehow, Nicole survived without changing very much. There was an eternalness about her nobody could put a finger on.
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          Nature, or destiny, had not expended the fullness of its wrath.
          The “sickness,” as New Americans called it, had lain dormant, building strength for a next attack, its spores resting in the soil and in the cells of animals and humans. There were no scientists, therefore nobody to research a cure. There were only the unsuspecting animals and fearful humans, like the ones in Spelville and New America. New America had languished, and the population diminished. By the time the Sickness revisited for the final time, there were less than a dozen souls living there, managing as miserably as one could imagine.
          The Sickness struck swiftly, with a virulence that might be mistaken for malice. This time the victims split open like overripe watermelons. It took out even insects, making a sweep of all but the microbes. Nicole awakened, one morning, to witness as the mayhem had its way with James. She tried in vain to comfort the family. Their deaths were bloody and in the end, a blessing, for death alone could end that form of torture.
          She did not need to be especially intuitive to know, in her core, that life on the land was ended. That life in the great bodies of water continued, unabated, was a fact that needed no expression. There, it thrived, now that human-engineered pollution no longer added to the soup. There was intelligence in the seawater. And adaptability. One day, something would crawl out of the water, to stay. Evolution makes it so, as it makes every species that arrives subject to extinction.
          It was necessary to slide Eve’s remains to the side before the door would open up.
          Nicole could not face the end, here, with so much death.  The sky, heavily overcast by smoke from raging fires, seemingly destined for Spelville, would force her to go, anyway. She set out, downriver, with just the clothing hanging loosely on her dehydrating frame. She would try to reach the ocean, for the first time since being a very small child, on a family vacation. It was tough going, as the brown vegetation engulfed her. She would persevere, cripple that she was. Soon, the great water, The Mother, would embrace her. 
           
             
           
         
         
         
           
           
         

   
             
             
                   
           

         
             

INDEX OF THIS BLOG

INDEX OF STORIES AND VERSES

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