Dust (31 page)

“No,” Burke said strong. “And then what? Let her roam about out there. Burn us down. Break our windows.”

“She’s not strong enough,” Craig said. “She’ll die within an hour. If she tries then you shoot her. Tanner, what do you think?”

“I think …” Tanner replied. “I think it should be Jo’s call. She decides.”

I looked at the revolver, then at the faces in the room. “Where is she?”

Rod was the watchdog in the garage where they detained Tammy. It was bitter cold in there, lit by a candle, and an attempt to be warmed by a small kerosene heater was futile. Tammy sat in a chair center of the room, and she just looked at us when we stepped in. The walk to the garage wasn’t long, and even if it was, I knew that my mind wasn’t going to be made up until I spoke to Tammy. As I explained to the others, Tammy’s fate, if she died instantly, or was given the slightest chance to save herself, hinged on what she said. Tammy was ill. There were a lot of factors that could play into her actions. It was possible that she didn’t even recall doing it.

I was the judge, jury, and possible executioner. It was time to hold my trial. About eight feet I stopped and stood. “Tammy. Just … just tell me why. Why did you suffocate Simon?”

Tammy’s raised her eyes. She was silent for a few seconds, and then she finally answered. No emotions. Just factual. “I was getting kicked out anyhow, right? Why not.”

A split second was all it took and I held out my hand to Burke. “Give me the gun.” I felt it lay in my palm and I gripped it. Taking a step back, I shifted the chamber, raised the revolver, and extended my arm. At first I felt the ease of my actions. The revolver felt right. The moment felt right. And then … I looked at Tammy. When I saw her, a flash of a memory pelted me over. I saw us on a swing set, laughing and playing at eight years old. Tammy in a prom gown. The two of us at graduation. My wedding day. That trip to the beach we had taken for just us girls. Tammy pregnant. Matty’s christening.

My hand shook, and I swallowed predominantly. “I’m sorry. I’m … sorry.” Stepping back, I lowered my arm, turned and gave the gun to Burke. “Take her outside. Just take her out.”

I had to leave. I couldn’t watch. Hurriedly I left the garage and closed the door behind me. I folded my arms tight to my body in a self-delivered embrace of support. It hurt, my stomach burned and I nearly doubled over from the pain of all that was happening. Tammy screamed, and the garage door opened. Tightly I closed my eyes as if I could block it all out. But I couldn’t. It didn’t take long. Before I knew it, it was over. The garage door closed.

Tammy was gone.

***

The banging, screaming, crying, and apologizing, it seemed like it lasted an eternity, when I knew it was maybe fifteen minutes. Tammy carried on outside, yelling near the living room window. Even though the window was blocked, dirt was piled against them, I could still hear her. “Jo. Jo. Let me back in, Jo. Please. I’m sorry, Jo. I am so sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing. Jo, Please? Jo!”

I found my solitude in Rod’s writing spot. A space between the end of the sofa and the wall, blocked by a small shelf, the privacy of the area was limited to one’s imagination.

No more. I didn’t want to hear anymore. Knees bent up, I covered my ears and rocked back and forth until it was over with.

Then I stayed there.

I couldn’t face a soul and no one bothered me either. It took all that I had to convince myself that I hadn’t broken. Eventually I would stand and face it all again, leave that little corner and put on a strong front. And a front was all it was. I wasn’t strong. Not in the least. Any strength that I had, courage and conviction was gone.

The light bulb of reality went off in my head and I hated what it illuminated—my life.

It was done. Changed forever. There was no more Sam, no more family, nothing. The little speck of hope in my mind that kept me going, told me perhaps we would emerge and find somewhere that wasn’t hit, wasn’t destroyed by war, that speck was extinguished. We would leave the shelter and find nothing but a crumbled world filled with dirt and dust. A place filled with helpless people, sick, suffering, and better off dead. If things fell apart in a bomb shelter filled with people who cared about each other, I didn’t want to think what was happening outside of our basement walls.

My poor children. Growing up I had dreams. I would be something, raise a family, be a rock star, and win an academy award, anything I wanted. Life was a silver platter, and all I had to do was try. Reach for what I wanted and try. Those were my dreams. What dreams would my children have? Find food? Peace? Pray that they would never get an illness that needed dire medical attention? To drink enough water to the point where they weren’t thirsty anymore?

We had been cheated out of a full life and the fruitfulness this earth once had to offer. How horrible. When the finger was on the proverbial button, didn’t they think? Didn’t they see the faces of the children? My God what was going through their minds? Those bastards. I wanted to damn them for taking it all away, but they had already damned us.

I plunged into a pool of self-pity for at least three hours. Writing in my notebook, pausing to think, to cry. I stayed there in the corner until the silence of the basement spoke undeniably that everyone was asleep. Then knees aching from sitting so long, I grabbed my candle and stood. Burke was asleep on the sofa, Rod on the loveseat, and Dan was on the floor.

I made it to the back bedroom and was surprised to see the door slightly ajar. A hint of light crept out. Guessing the light was more of a security blanket for the kids, I pushed the door open and walked in. Davy was on the one bed with Simon. His arm draped over his little buddy as they both slept. But taking me aback was the sight of Tanner. He sat in the space between the two beds, knees bent slightly, holding a book close to the light for reading, as he held my sleeping daughter. I looked at him for a second in curiosity, then muttered out his name in question. “Tanner?”

“Oh, hey, Jo. I hope you don’t mind,” he whispered. “I just wanted to be in here with Simon.”

“No, I don’t mind. How …” I pointed to Matty. “How did you end up with her?”

Tanner chuckled. “I don’t know. I offered. She accepted.”

“Here let me take her.” I walked over and crouched down for Matty.

“I can …”

“No.” I lifted Matty. “I have her. Thanks.” Grunting some, I turned and laid my daughter on the bed. “Night sweetie,” I whispered, pulled the blankets over Matty, and then kissed her. After a grateful stare of her, I looked down to Tanner. “Need a floor partner?”

“Love one.” He patted the spot next to him.

The aching of my legs and body, caused me to grunt as I lowered to the floor.

“Tired?” Tanner asked.

“Yeah. You?”

“A little.” He shrugged.

“You’ll hurt your eyes reading in the dark,” I said.

“Yeah, well, not much of a choice, huh?”

“No.” I shook my head with a smile. “What are you reading?”

Fingers holding his spot, Tanner closed the cover and showed me.

Admittedly, I was a little shocked. “The Bible?”

“Yeah.” He opened it again.

“Is this something you do often?”

Tanner laughed. “Jo, you act like this is a shock to see me reading The Bible.”

“Well, it is. I don’t know. You just don’t strike me as a bible thumper.”

“I’m not. I pick it up when I need to find the right words,” Tanner said. “Tonight needed words. Whether anyone asks me for them, or I tell them—doesn’t matter. What matters is I found them. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, it does. So … do you know where to find the right words, or do you just flip pages hoping to get lucky.”

Tanner looked at me for a second and smiled. “Both.”

I chuckled. “It’s honest. Now …” I sighed out. “Be honest again. Tell me about Simon.”

“He’ll be fine. Kids go into cardiac arrest because of respiratory failure. You get their heart going again, they are fine. Simon actually is doing great.”

“Thank you. And thank you for taking time for Matty.”

“Really?” Tanner asked surprised. “I thought you were angry.”

Quirkily I looked at him. “Why did you think that?”

“You stared at me funny when you saw us. Like you were mad.”

“Mad? No.” I shook my head. “Maybe … envious?”

“Envious?”

“Don’t laugh. But envious that Matty is small enough to curl up on someone’s lap and go to sleep.”

“Anyone is.” Tanner set the Bible to the side, and shifted his body to face me. “If you’d like.” He motioned a hand over his lap.

“No, I couldn’t.” I shook my head.

“You couldn’t … because?” Tanner fished for an explanation.

“I couldn’t because … I couldn’t … are you sure?” I asked.

“Positive. Grab that blanket.” Tanner pointed to the one that covered Matty on the floor.

I reached for the blanket, and scooted closer to Tanner. It felt very awkward at first, tuning sideways and resting my head upon his leg. At best I thought it would last about a minute, then the strange feeling would be too much to handle and I would get back up. But I didn’t. Immediately after Tanner fixed the covers over my shoulder, it was as if I slipped into a comfort zone. Legs curled, nestled perfect in the fold of Tanner’s lap, I felt warm and safe, and not quite so lost.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

“Yeah. Very.” I saw him pick up The Bible. “Are you sure you don’t mind. I won’t stay like this long.”

“Sleep, Jo. Don’t worry about it. Besides, your body makes a great arm rest.”

I thought he was joking until I felt his arm prop over mine. I smiled and started to close my eyes, but stopped. “Tanner? Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you ever think about the future? Do you think about what the world will be like?”

“Sure I do,” Tanner answered. “Quite a bit.”

“Well, what do you think?”

“That’s a wide open question.”

“Ok, what do you think will happen to us all?” I asked. “Do you think things are gonna keep falling apart.”

“Honestly?”

“No less.”

“Then being no less than honest, I think …” Tanner reached down and brushed the hair from my face, as he spoke softly, “I think those of us who have survived will have a different outlook on life. And as time moves on, as we rebuild, we will make sure this world is a better place. Much better than it ever was. That’s what I think. No. That’s what I believe. What about you, Jo?”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“Just have faith,” Tanner said.

Faith.

“Tanner? You said tonight needed words. Did you … did you by chance find any words in the Bible.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Can you read them to me?” I asked. “Something. I need something right now to grab onto.”

Tanner drew silent. “I don’t know if this will help. It’s just … one of my favorites.” He turned a page. “Here.” He began to read, “Whenever trouble comes your way, let it be an opportunity for joy. When your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow. For when your endurance is fully developed, you will be strong in character and ready for anything.”
 
He paused. “In other words, Jo. That which doesn’t break us or kill us …”