Authors: Doug Kelly
Kevin
nodded.
“Go
talk to her. I’ll find some food and bring it out to you,” said Dylan.
Kevin
groaned. “Cold beans and dry pasta.” He rubbed his stomach sarcastically as he
left the kitchen.
Dylan
walked into the pantry. He looked at the shelves and was impressed at the
amount of food he saw. Kevin was serious when he said that they stocked up on
food when it was on sale. There were a lot of canned items and plenty of dried
goods like rice, pasta, and beans. They would have to take as much food as
possible when they left Omaha. The more food they had with them, the less time
they would have to spend scavenging for it. He got a chair and closely surveyed
each item, to begin prioritizing what food to take. He reached back behind each
row of cans and boxes. He turned a small stack of cans around to read the labels,
but discovered that it was actually a stack of canned cooking fuel. Dylan
grasped one can and used a spoon to pry open the lid. He could still smell the
gelled alcohol in the can. He lit a match and placed it in the can. A small
translucent blue flame instantly appeared. Dylan placed the blue flame under a
pot of water, and within minutes, it was boiling. Dylan found a jar of
spaghetti sauce and ten minutes later, he had three plates of hot spaghetti
with red sauce. Dylan walked back into the living room where Kevin and Mary
were talking. They turned to see Dylan approaching with two plates of spaghetti.
Dylan
leaned over in front of the couple and held the plates in front of them. “Here
you go. Two plates of hot spaghetti with a tangy marinara sauce.” Two confused
and curious stares greeted him.
Mary
was the first to take a plate. “It’s warm. The plate is warm.”
With
a skeptical look, Kevin took the remaining plate. His expression changed and he
looked back up at Dylan. “How did you do that?”
“Cooking
fuel. It was in the pantry.”
Mary
slapped her forehead and laughed. “I forgot about that. It was left from our
camping trip.” Her mood was elevated now. She seemed much happier.
Dylan
went to the kitchen and brought back his plate so he could eat with the others.
“Dylan,”
said Mary, with an apologetic tone.
“Yes.”
“Kevin
talked to me some more about the trip. I’m okay with it now. He told me about
your family. I understand why you want to get back as soon as possible. They
have to be worried about you.”
Dylan
was rapidly eating the hot food while she spoke, and he replied, “That settles
it.” Dylan spoke to the couple while chewing a mouthful of food. “Pack only
essential items, and let’s get a plan for the food in your pantry. We need to
take as much food as possible.” He wiped the spaghetti sauce from his beard
with a dirty forearm.
Kevin
and Mary got out their suitcases and a large duffle bag. Kevin quickly stuffed
his clothes, including winter clothes, into the duffle bag. He then joined
Dylan in the pantry to help with a plan for the food.
“What
do you think?” asked Kevin, staring into the pantry with Dylan.
“Dried
food first, and then cans. Dried goods are the lightest.”
“We’ve
got to bring our winter clothes, so the suitcases are full. How can we move it
all?”
Dylan
leaned on the kitchen counter with his elbows. He slowly tapped on the counter
as he thought about a solution. He closed his eyes and concentrated. A few
moments later, Dylan stopped tapping and opened his eyes, then darted to the
living room window and looked outside. “Look, it’s still there.”
“What?”
Kevin
looked out the window and saw the tipped-over shopping cart on the road. The
dead body was near it from earlier in the day. Dylan told Kevin he was going to
move the cart inside and would find a dark corner in the lobby to hide it. In
the morning, they would use the cart to push the food as far possible, back
toward the buried rafts.
Dylan
went to the street with his rifle slung across his shoulder. He walked past the
dead body and tried not to care. It had been a close-range shot to the chest.
The image was gruesome. Dylan put the cart back on its wheels and pushed it
forward. The cart appeared ragged and abused. It was painted black and had some
long pieces of different colored strands of yarn tied to the handle. It was
ugly, but it worked.
He
pushed the cart into the apartment’s lobby, broken glass crunching under its
wheels. The corridor to the right was dark and farthest from the light
filtering through the broken front doors. As he got closer, he could see the
building’s freight elevator in front of him. He tilted the cart to the floor
and, as he bent over, he noticed something on the floor at the end of the dark
hall. The shape was familiar. As he moved closer, he could see that it was a
moving dolly. Dylan realized that if they put some of the food items into
boxes, they could get it all moved out of the apartment by using both the cart
and the dolly.
Back
in the apartment, Dylan set his rifle against the wall and took a quick peek
out the window again. “Hey, the cart works and I found a moving dolly by the
freight elevator. Put anything that won’t stack on a dolly into garbage bags.
Keep the individual bags light enough to carry.”
The
threesome bagged, boxed, and stacked the remaining food in the pantry. They
were going to be able to take it all.
Dylan
was the first to wake the next morning. He peered out the window to see what
the world looked like today. The sky was clear and there was a breeze. He
noticed that the body in the street had been moved. The clothes were ripped off
the corpse and it was left in pieces. It appeared that animals had devoured it.
Dylan suspected dogs. He knew there are going to be a lot of feral dogs from
now on. He quickly glanced back at his rifle for comfort.
From
the other room, Dylan heard Kevin say, “It’s moving day. Let’s get going.”
Still
standing by the open window, Dylan cupped his mouth and loudly replied,
“Waiting on you.”
Dylan
turned his head to look out the open window again. He wanted to take a deep
breath of the outside air because of the lingering stench inside the building.
Dylan looked back out the open window and his eyes met the eyes of a man
staring up at him. He was a large man covered in filth, standing in the middle
of the street. He looked like he had been living in dirt and garbage. Dylan
ducked from view and ran to Kevin’s room. He knocked on the closed door and
told Kevin that there was a strange man outside who must have thought he was
yelling at him. Kevin dismissed the event and told him they would be going outside
fully armed. He told Dylan that they were leaving town and he just did not care
anymore. It was not his neighborhood now.
The
threesome emerged on the street in front of the apartment building. The dolly
was loaded, but Dylan was still experimenting with how to manage the suitcases
on the cart. He balanced a suitcase on top of the cart, and then placed another
down below. He was circling the cart like it was a masterpiece and he was the
artist. He tried to push the cart forward and the suitcases slipped off.
“That’s
not going to work,” said Dylan, as he shoved the suitcase back onto the cart.”
He
circled the cart again tapping his forehead with his finger as he thought.
“Mary,”
said Dylan, kneeling close to the cart, “help me with these pieces of yarn tied
to the handle. We can tie them together and use it to hold the suitcase still.”
Mary
began to pick away at the knots holding the long pieces of yarn to the cart.
“Oh,
I forgot something,” said Mary, standing up as she spoke. “The cooking fuel and
matches are in a small bag in the kitchen. I didn’t want to put them in a bag
with food.”
“I’ll
go grab it, I’ve got the key,” said Kevin.
Dylan
laughed and rolled his eyes. “You locked it? Do you think you’re coming back?”
“Shut
up, old man.” Kevin shook his head, embarrassed, and jogged back into the
apartment’s lobby.
Mary
removed the pieces of yarn, tied them together, and then Dylan tied the yarn to
the suitcases.
“Let’s
take this for a test drive,” said Dylan. “Hold this for me and cross your
fingers.” Dylan handed her his rifle. He slowly pushed the cart around and
everything seemed stable. As he started to push at a slow jog, the bottom
suitcase started to shift. He slowed down and pushed it back toward Mary.
“Look,” said Dylan, kneeling in front of the cart, “this piece needs to be
tighter, and then we’re good to go. Come over here, I might need your
fingernails again.”
Dylan
had his back turned and did not see her set the rifle down. Side by side, they
were both kneeling low by the cart with their backs to the morning sun. As
Dylan shifted the bottom suitcase back and tied the last strand of yarn tighter,
he saw a large shadow cover both of them. Instinctively he stood up and spun
around, grabbing for the rifle, but it was not on his shoulder anymore. Mary
screamed, and the shot of adrenalin could not take away the sick feeling
overcoming his body now. In front of them was the large man he had seen from
the window earlier that morning. He was holding Dylan’s rifle. Mary had left
the rifle on the ground and walked away.
“That’s
what’s left of my brother over there. I recognize his clothes,” said the large
man, angrily. He was directing his anger at Dylan.
Dylan
held up his hands and inched away from Mary. He wanted to move so the large man
would turn his back to the apartment building. As Dylan spoke, he took small
side steps and the man began to rotate, keeping Dylan directly in front of him.
“I
don’t know anything about your brother,” said Dylan, trying to stay calm.
“I
saw you looking out the window at me.” He threw his thumb over his shoulder at
the apartment building, not looking back as he spoke. “You’ve got his cart. We
had food in it. Where the hell is it?” He pointed the rifle at Dylan.
“Hold
on, just calm down,” said Dylan, holding his hands higher. “We’ve got a lot of
food. Just take our food and leave us alone.”
The
crazed look never left the large man’s eyes, but he lowered the rifle. “I think
I’ll take your food and your woman, too,” he said with a sneer.
The
big man turned back around toward the cart, but did not have time to react to
Kevin’s pistol leveled at his head. Kevin had heard his wife’s scream, so he
ran back to the street and saw the man with Dylan’s rifle. Kevin had silently
crept, with his pistol ready, toward the man. As soon as the man turned, Dylan
had gone flat on the ground and, at point-blank range, Kevin pulled the trigger.
Brain matter followed the bullet as it exited the exploding skull. The morning
sunrise illuminated a halo of pink mist and the man’s ominous shadow
disappeared as rapidly as his dead body hit the street.
Dylan
jumped back up and stepped away from the dead body. He paced back and forth by
the cart rubbing his face and head with shaking hands.
“How
did this happen?” asked Kevin.
Dylan
did not say anything.
“I
was my fault,” Mary said, as she began to cry. “I put the rifle down and walked
away from it. That man came out of nowhere…it’s my fault…I’m so sorry.”
“I
gave her the rifle. I shouldn’t have done that.” Dylan walked over to Mary and
put his hand on her shoulder. She could feel his hand trembling. “Don’t blame
yourself. Let’s forget about this and get out of here.”
Dylan
took the rifle, slung it over his shoulder, and began to push the cart. Kevin
put on his backpack and was about to grab the handles of the dolly when he
realized that he was still holding the key to his apartment. He offered the key
to Mary and she smiled, wiped her tears, and shrugged her shoulders. “What’s
the point?” she said. He tossed the key to the curb and laughed at himself.
They turned away, Mary walking by his side.
The
threesome took their belongings as far as they could toward rail yard. They ran
out of paved road, and had to make several trips from the cart to where they
had buried the rafts, in order to move all of their supplies. The two men
removed the sandy dirt from the tarps covering the rafts, showed them to Mary,
and let her know that she would get Richard’s old raft.
Mary
walked around the rafts with her arms across her chest. She looked at them with
a humbled curiosity. “I have never been on a raft or on a river. What am I
supposed to do?”
“Float
and paddle,” said Dylan, as he began to mentally divide the food among the
three rafts.
Mary
grinned apprehensively, trying to hide her fear.
The
men dragged the rafts to a shallow spot on the riverbank and began to load
everything. They had to carefully balance the load because of the amount of
food they were able to bring. The men finally had an abundance of food, good
food that would be edible the entire trip. This meant less time trying to kill
a deer, or picking through the farm fields as they traveled downstream.
They
helped Mary into her raft and pushed away from the bank.
“How
do you like it, Mary?” asked Dylan.