The banging on the door woke me up. It startled me, and I didn’t remember where I was right away, or what I was doing there. The memories sorted into place, slowly, interrupted every few seconds by more banging.

Eventually Janie came out from the bedroom and walked past me to open the door.

“Good morning, Doctor.”

Mirrored from Jack-a-dreams.

At first I thought it was just the sunset that made it look like Provo was on fire. Then again, I’d been trying to sleep through the pain the whole way up the highway and I was maybe a little drunk from the Jack Daniels Saul had given me when it was clear the two aspirin in the first aid kit weren’t going to do much.

There was a small knot of people standing alongside a van with its hood up. Saul pulled to a stop beside them.

Mirrored from Jack-a-dreams.

Love is not the last room: there are others
after it, the whole length of the corridor
that has no end.
-Yehuda Amichai

He wouldn’t let me back in. At first I thought he was just waiting some arbitrary period – 24 hours, 48, 72. Until he decided it was safe. I investigated the houses we’d left above ground; I looked for the neighbors.

If the neighbors were still alive, they didn’t seem to be answering any more than my husband was. I spent the first night in my old bed. The second day, I was hungry and I knew all the pantries had been cleaned out in the houses I had access to. There was still no answer when I knocked on any of the other houses.

Maybe we were the only survivors. Maybe my husband had been right, and everyone else was damned.

I grabbed my bike and rode toward Main Street. I ignored the long-cold car crash, resisting the temptation to stop and look at the bodies.

There was nobody visible in the Minit Mart or the grocery or the hardware store. The sliding doors of the grocery store had already been broken, and I stepped inside gingerly, looking out for large pieces of glass. I started toward the canned goods.

“There ain’t much left, but you really ought to ask before you take it.”

I panicked and froze as the barrel of a shotgun came around the endcap of the aisle, followed by its owner. I recognized him – Saul was one of the few who spoke to me kindly when my husband brought me back – but I wasn’t sure whether that was cause to relax.

“Lacey! Lord almighty, Lacey, I didn’t figure to see you here. I know your husband always bought plenty of bulk.” The end of the gun dropped toward the floor and he rushed toward her. “Did something happen? Are the kids sick?”

“As far as I know they’re fine. Lonely, I guess.”

“As far as you know?”

“They- he put me out. We wanted to see if anyone was left alive, but he won’t let me back in.” I didn’t understand why my voice was shaking so much. Saul put his arms around me, and I realized my hands were shaking along with it.

“Do you need company?”

“No,” I sighed. “I’m sure they’ll let me in sooner or later. They just want to wait and make sure I don’t have the plague. For the safety of the kids.”

Saul helped me pack up some cans and crackers and fruit juice so I’d be okay back at the house, and he told me to be careful and come get him if I needed anything else.

Back at the house, I checked the gun locker. I thought my husband had taken all the guns, but there was an older hunting rifle and some ammunition for it. I wondered if he planned to use it once it was safe, if it was ever safe.

I kept circling back around to the bunker, but I was waiting longer and longer between check-ins. The solitude had become a relief, though I couldn’t quite bring myself to admit it. I read books. I drank juice and grilled canned veggies on the charcoal grill until I ran out of charcoal.

I yelled for Saul first thing when I went back to the store. He didn’t answer right away, and I went to see if there was any charcoal left.

“Lacey, just the woman I wanted to see,” he said when he finally turned up.

“Why?”

“I’m leaving town,” he said, and gestured to his ancient pickup in the parking lot. “I rounded up enough gas to get to Provo, maybe even Salt Lake City. Come with me. I could use someone to ride shotgun.”

I thought I was standing still, unsure what I wanted, but my body was moving and before I knew it I was at the edge of town, and then I was out­side it. I felt like I could breathe again, in the passenger seat with the hunting rifle at the ready. I’d never dri­ven so fast and I’d never felt so dangerous.

Not that it was really dan­ger­ous– I kept telling myself that. There was no one on the road. There was no movement at all. It was just the apocalypse, right? How bad could it be?

Mirrored from Jack-a-dreams.

The first rain reminds me
Of the rising summer dust.
-Yehuda Amichai

The storm rode in fast and hard as desert raiders, and Joseph was soaked through by the time he made it back to Annie’s trailer. The cookfire was nothing but an ash-dark puddle, and he could see that Annie had pulled her loom down from the tree. He paused, considering throwing a tarp over his bike, but it was too late to make a difference.

Lightning crashed across the sky as he opened the door and all but dove inside.

“Stop!” Annie yelled, and he froze in place. A towel landed across his head and shoulders, and he gratefully began drying his hair.

“All the damp things stay by the door,” she told him, but there was a hint of laughter in her voice. “The wool would recover, but I’d rather not have to deal with it.”

Joseph kicked one boot off and then the other, followed by his jeans and his dripping shirt. He checked the hand-knit socks she’d given him – his boots had kept them dry, somehow.

Outside, thunder cracked directly overhead and lightning flashed beyond the camper’s small windows as Joseph presented himself for inspection.

“Dry enough,” she told him, and smiled. She was knitting, of course, on the bed with a light blanket tossed across her lap. Joseph hesitated only a minute before joining her, curling up beside her. He was getting used to the feeling of skin on skin, and while he still shuddered at an unexpected touch, it no longer unnerved him. He knew Annie didn’t expect anything to follow.

It was enough.

Mirrored from Jack-a-dreams.