Dust (18 page)

My first note to Mona was scarcely beyond a second grade level of composition, and really left a lot to be desired. My objective wasn’t to be a great storyteller, it was just to focus and write something. Anything. I did. The first entry simply read: ‘Dear Mona: It’s been two weeks. Sam and Hebba have both died. The rest of us are well. We worry about you and miss you. Thank you for calling me and telling me about the bombs. Jo’

I made the fatal mistake of telling Burke what I was doing, then I worsened that error by showing him what I wrote. He called me insane and ridiculed my choice of words. To him, Mona was gone, and she wasn’t coming back. I couldn’t get angry or upset with him, because when I opened my notebook, I opened myself up to Burke’s combativeness.

The hours of each day seemed to drag. By eleven in the morning I felt as if I had put in an entire days worth of time. It wouldn’t have been so bad had Burke allowed us to help with the move. About all we were permitted to do was organize my basement to be a central stock station. We were to get what we needed to live at Mark’s and that was all. At Burke’s request, Craig devised a padlock system out of wood, wire, and Davy’s bicycle padlock. It would go on my basement door, to double insure our livelihood was safe.

The physical transition from my house to Mark’s was an interesting journey. Simon, in a mockery of Dan, screamed the entire way for help because he couldn’t see. And Rod beckoned Burke not to lock his nerve medication in my basement with all the other supplies.

Moving over to Mark’s was a wise choice. His basement was over twice the size of mine. It was already divided up nicely in an apartment style from when Mark used to rent it out to his brother. A living room, two small bedrooms, a kitchenette, and a small bath. It was more of a home, and definitely a brighter atmosphere.

With the new home, we also gained a new member to our little group. Burke found her in Mark’s house—tucked away in hiding. I argued at first, and didn’t want her around.

“She’s not serious, Jo,” Burke told me. “She can bring a silliness, make us smile. We need something that isn’t so serious. She stays. Drop it.”

Rod and Craig agreed a hundred percent with Burke—they would. I, of course, had valid reasons for not wanting her around. Hygiene. History. Was she used and abused? After Burke assured me that she wasn’t. That not only was she still in an unopened box when he found her, she hadn’t even been removed from the sealed plastic bag. I dropped that argument and allowed for him to inflate the blow-up doll he had discovered. What a waste of energy. However, Burke ended up being correct. She lifted the spirits. At first I found it obscene, but Rod dressed her in some old evening gown, that made her better. Plus, Simon and Matty took an instant liking to her, so we named her Molly.

“Where’s Nicky?” I asked as I walked into the living room portion of the basement.

Rod found a corner where he huddled with a tablet. He glanced up to answer me, “Outside I think.” He brought the pen to his mouth. “Yes. She is. Craig’s there.”

“Still?” I asked. “She’s been out there a while.”

Dan, who was seated at the small table, interjected his two cents worth as he read through some magazine. “She’s fine, Jo. A big girl.”

“I guess you’re right.” I prepared to take a moment to relax, maybe even doze off. There was plenty of space in that living room, plus something about it made us all feel at ease. Perhaps it was the wood paneling, rustic appeal, or just the fact it was homey. We all took a liking to that room immediately. Even Matty. More than having room to spread about her art, she liked that the new home didn’t smell bad.

There was a stack of old Hunter’s Digest in a bin. It was new reading material to me, and like Dan, I thought I’d grab one and indulge. In my reach, my head cocked when I heard Simon squeal happily. I was shocked when I saw what caused his joy.

“Simon,” I scolded.

Simon laughed and did a little jump of excitement. “Molly wants some more.”

“No, Simon.” I walked over to Molly who was positioned on the small sofa. “She doesn’t.” I reached into her wide-open mouth and pulled out the dehydrated cranberry Simon had tossed in there. “If you don’t want them, Simon, put them back.”

“Molly wants to eat them.” Simon giggled.

“No.” I corrected. “Molly eats air.”

Rod chuckled as he eavesdropped. “Amongst other things.”

I gasped.

Simon laughed again as if he totally understood what Rod was implying. He slapped his little knee. “Rod’s funny. Rod’s funny.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s a card.” I shook my head.

“Jo. They won’t go to waste,” Rod said. “Someone will eat them. The boy is only restless. He wants to play.”

“Oh!” Simon called out and clapped his hands. “Outside. Can I go outside now, Aunt Jo?”

“No, Simon.” I crouched down to be at his level. “We have to wait, Sweetie.” My voice was soothing and even-toned as if I told a happy story. “Big Bad Burke wants to go with us with his big bad gun to make sure no big bad men ... ”

“Holy, Jesus, Jo.” Rod interrupted me. “Just tell the boy you have to wait until Burke gets up.”

Just then Davy came into the room. “Burke’s awake. He said to get Simon ready.” Davy extended his hand to Simon. “Come on, buddy, let’s go get you dressed to play. Matty, you want to come too?”

“No.” Matty replied, “I want to keep my hair.”

Davy shrugged. “Suit yourself, let’s go, Simon.”

Simon happily went with Davy. I glanced down to Matty on the floor. “I’m glad you’re staying inside,” I told her.

Rod looked up from his work. “Jo, you’re making your daughter neurotic enough. Maybe you should encourage her to go out. Ten minutes outside is not gonna hurt her.”

Before I could even respond, Matty did. “I want to draw.” She spoke as her hand moved about. “I’m making a new Dan picture.”

With a questioning, ‘hmm’, Rod lifted up and extended his body to peer at what Matty created. “Very good. I see you’ve given him horns.”

The ‘slam’ of Dan’s hand on the table startled us. “Why does she depict me like that?”

Rod shrugged. “She psychic. She sees through you.”

Had Burke not walked in the room ordering out, ‘No bitch fights’, I’m sure some little spat between Rod and Dan would have ensued. He looked at none of us, and moved straight to the kitchenette area.

“I made you coffee, Burke,” I said. “There’s a good half a cup.”

“Thanks.” Burke lifted the tin pot.

“Burke?” Innocently, I crept his way.

“Jo.” He poured his coffee. “Simon will be fine.”

I grumbled. “I hate when you know what I’m gonna say.”

“Don’t be so predictable.”

“But, Craig says even though the rads are lower, it might be best if we wait until it rains.”

Burke finally turned around. “We’re taking precautions. Besides, we don’t know when it’s gonna rain.”

“Rod says soon.” I nodded.

Burke paused before taking a drink. His lips hovered over the rim of the cup, and his dark eyes looked at me as if I were being ridiculous. “And how does Rod know?”

“He has magic sinuses,” I replied.

Burke coughed out a laugh.

Rod seemed offended by Burke’s reaction. “I do,” Rod said. “I put my thumb and forefinger on my cheek bones and press. If I get a tickle in my throat ... rain.”

Chuckling, Burke shook his head.

“You’ll see, big guy.” Rod pointed his pen at Burke. “Rain.”

“We should make Simon wait,” I said. “I believe Rod.”

“You would.” Burke walked by me. “Simon goes out.”

“But ... ”

Spinning to me, Burke put his hand over my mouth. “Out. I’m taking precautions.” Nodding once, Burke turned and walked out. “Davy!” he blasted in his exit. “Is Simon ready? I want to inspect him.”

“Inspect?” I asked, and then curiously looked to Rod or Dan for answers. “What’s he doing to Simon?”

It satisfied me and was no less than hysterical. I went outside with Davy and Simon. Burke was giving them a half an hour. Exposure would be minimal. Of course, I couldn’t figure out how Simon would get any exposure at all. Precautions? Burke had that covered ... literally. Simon was a big blue bundle. He wore Davy’s old snowsuit. The ski goggles that covered his eyes helped to hold the white cloth securely over Simon’s nose and mouth. With the mittens and boots, Simon looked more like he was ready to build a snowman rather than play catch. It was visually evident that Simon could barely move his arms let alone run. But Simon didn’t mind, he darted about the yard as best as he could. Davy had his hands full continuously chasing Simon from the sporadic pockets of thick ash in the yard. Ash that Simon believed was some kind of new snow.

Burke was bored and restless, that was obvious. He paced a lot during his ‘watch guard’ duty, while making far too many comments regarding Nicky’s state of mind.

Granted, Burke’s concerns were validated, but his stock remark of ‘Oh, she’s fuckin’ gone’, was a bit crude.

Nicky bothered no one. Craig tried to get her to go indoors several times. She refused, saying she still hadn’t finished her gardening. I once had a flowerbed in front of my home. It wasn’t much, and it paled in comparison to Mrs. Yu’s garden. I really never tended to it, to me, what grew—grew. Taking it upon herself, Nicky cleared away the debris and ash that collected on my flowerbed.

Burked paced, stopped, looked at Nicky then to me. “Oh, she’s ... ”

“Don’t say it.” I warned. “Sit.”

“I don’t want to sit.”

“Well, then move, I can’t see around you to watch Simon.”

“I’ll sit.” Burke plopped down on the porch step next to me.

“Swell.” I mumbled.

Brightly, Nicky called out, “Look, Jo. Look how pretty this is. Everyone will be envious.”

Burke whistled. “Oh, she’s ... ”

“Don’t.” I held up my hand.

“Jo?” Nicky sung my name. “I found mint leaves. Should I collect them for rations?”

Burke tried again. “Jo, she’s ... ”

“Burke. Stop.” I instructed.

“Jo, I can’t help it,” he defended. “She’s over there in some sort of fucked up apocalyptic Donna Reed mode. And she’s humming country tunes.”

A shadow cast over us. I looked up to see Craig.

“I didn’t even know she liked country.” Craig said. “Go figure. You learn something new everyday.” He shrugged and walked away.

“Oh, my God.” Burke groaned out, “he’s fuckin’ gone too.”

My hand slapped hard to my leg in my frustration. “Will you just stop? You’re looking at this all wrong.”

“I’m looking at it wrong? How else am I supposed to look at it?”

“Like ... ” My eyes strayed, I pretended to watch Simon when really, I was searching for words. “Like ... ” I snapped my finger. “They really aren’t acting ‘fucked up’, they’re ....” I fluttered my lips. “Acting normal in a fucked up situation. There.”

I waited. Surely Burke would retort with some sarcastic, obscenity-laced comment. He didn’t. Surprising me, he just bobbed his head with an agreeable look. Then a strange moment erupted between us; we started to chuckle.

“That was funny,” Burke said.

As I opened my mouth to agree, my chuckle evolved into laughter when I noticed Simon. He was stuck. Without getting hurt, Simon had somehow fallen. And like a cockroach on its back, he struggled diligently to get up. The blue bundled boy rolled slightly side-to-side, reaching for Davy who was in hysterics.