Chapter 7
Eve, Wolf, Gus, and Mother sat around the kitchen table a week later. It was late and quiet and her body's cry for sleep beat a steady cadence in Mother's brain. There was so much to do. Too much to do. And there were far too many lives at stake to waste time sleeping. She numbly gulped another mouthful of coffee. She didn't even bother with sugar anymore. She was far beyond caring what it tasted like, so long as it did the job.
"We've had three warmer days in a row," Mother said. "We absolutely have to take advantage of the melt and start cleaning the houses." It was why she had called a meeting, to try and make a housing plan. Things in the barn were getting a little tense. The last thing she wanted was people seeing the barn as just another extension of their Walmart hell.
Eve sat with several notebooks stacked in front of her. She had quickly proven to be excellent at organization. Mother had commented on it when they spent two days making notes about every new citizen on Eve's suggestion. "I did well in school. If I didn't drop out, I probably would have made a good secretary or something." Mother had filed that information away in her internal dossier on all her citizens.
She had many good people. Eve had already proved herself to be invaluable. Gus was sharp as a tack, even though he was approaching eighty, and as Wolf said, the others looked to him for guidance. Steve was a hard worker. He was the only person that had volunteered to help muck out Phil's stall, and Mother noticed that he had assembled a crew to help him get the barnyard shoveled. Janice was very bubbly, and talked constantly. While Mother got the feeling people would only put up with her chatty ways so long before they snapped, she had to admit that Janice had a certain charm. She was also always asking for books.
They also had a few duds. Fred, of course. He started things off by being obstinate, and he had continued to live up to that persona every day since. He always had an argument, and constantly had to be goaded into compliance on even the very basic requests. If he could think of any argument, he'd make one. It was draining for Mother to be around the man for more than five minutes. Blaze was also a problem, but Mother got the feeling he was just bored and in need of an outlet, not really a true trouble maker. Wolf didn't agree, and still kept a close eye on the kid.
And then there was bitter Coraline. Mother had no idea how to handle her. She did as she was asked. She didn't pick fights. She went about her days and technically wasn't a problem. It wasn't what she did, though, it was the attitude. Coraline's being oozed bitter contempt, and even though Eve thought it would just take time for her to heal, Mother had a suspicion it was deeper, that there was more to it than that. She thought Coraline was just one of those people that would find a bad thing to say about the weather on the day they won the lottery. Some people refused to be pleased by anything. Mother believed Coraline was one of those, and that kind of grumpiness could spread.
They needed to break up the people. They needed to let the citizens have their own space. Mother knew it. She'd been putting it off for three days, since Wolf broke up a little face-to-face scuffle between Chuck and Blaze. It didn't amount to anything more than words, but it would lead to more. She knew they had to start the mind boggling task of cleaning out the houses. It was such a horrifying thought that she pushed it off. Several of the men and one woman, Abby, had taken turns in the various plow trucks and had cleared the roads of a good chunk of the town, so she couldn't use the excuse that they were trapped in. They had plenty of hands, so she couldn't use the excuse of not having enough man power. She blamed the weather, and as soon as she had, the skies cleared and a warm front came through. She was out of excuses and her people were quickly growing impatient. She had to bite the bullet.
"So, let's get to planning. I want to start tomorrow," Mother said with authority, as if she hadn't been ducking the arduous task all week. "I'm not going to lie and pretend it'll be fun. Or easy." It would be messy and terrifying. She turned to Gus. "Gus, I figure you know the people better than any of us by now. I think we need a core crew. It's going to take a certain...uh...personality to handle it." God, she hoped she could. There was no way in hell she'd make them do it alone. She swallowed hard before continuing. "Anyone you think would be good for the job?"
"If you don't mind me saying, I think maybe you should have it be a volunteer kind of deal."
Gus made sense. She cast a quick glance to Eve who gave a subtle nod and jotted it down. "Yes," she said to Gus. "I think you're right. Chuck will volunteer."
Eve made a face. "That guy's a class A creeper."
"Chuck's harmless," said Wolf. It was the first thing he said all night. He and Mother had a fight that morning that left him too pissed to be around her. It was about security, again. She had been tired and hadn't wanted to hear him list all the ways she could die and she snapped at him. He blew up, she blew up back, and they spent the day cooling off. Mother was a little surprised he turned back up for the meeting, but didn't say anything. He was clearly going to let it go, and so was she.
Gus rubbed the thick white beard on his chin and it struck Mother once again that he was their personal Santa Claus. "He's an odd duck, I'll give you that, Eve. But I think Wolf's right. You know what I think when I'm around him? Vaudeville. He strikes me as one of those overacted undertaker types they had in the old vaudeville acts. Remember those?" The group didn't, of course, and he waved a hand. "I need to find some contemporaries. You whippersnappers make me feel old!" His eyes twinkled and Mother smiled.
"Whippersnappers?"
Gus grinned. "The snappiest."
Eve sighed. "You can put whatever spin you want on him. I think the dude's freaky."
Mother was already used to Eve's assessments of the other people. As Eve had been filling out the index cards of information they were keeping on every person, she had made endless comments. They weren't mean, and mostly Mother found they were astute observations that had matched her own personal thoughts. But sometimes, Eve's age colored her views. "Yes, well, it's a freaky job we're facing, so it might just be right up his alley," Mother pointed out. "Make a note and remind me to talk to him personally before I make the announcement to the crowd. He seems to be fond of my attention and I think he'd like a personal invite."
Wolf made a little noise and Mother looked at him. She stared and waited for him to say something, but he kept silent. He was still seething over their argument and fully intended to set her straight later. For the moment, he was a guest at her meeting. Her town, her planning session. When she adjourned it, though, then it would be a different story.
Mother turned back to Gus. "I know we need space. How many houses do you think we'll need to make people happy?"
"Ultimately everyone's going to want their own place."
She sighed. "I know that. But we've got to start small. We've got to get a set number, clean them, and let people move out of the barn all at once. I don't want anyone to think anyone else is getting preferential treatment." Gus quirked an eyebrow, opened his mouth, then closed it again. Mother knew he had something to say that he thought would offend her. He'd been doing that all week and she was getting tired of it. "For god's sake, Gus. Just spit it out. I'm not made of glass."
"They already think she's getting preferential treatment," he said, tipping his head toward Eve.
"She is," Mother readily confirmed.
Wolf couldn't help his laugh. He schooled his features quickly, but it was funny.
"Some of them don't like it too much," Gus continued.
Mother rolled her eyes. "Eve's gone through a physically traumatic event."
Gus put his hands up. "I wasn't asking for justifications. I get it. A lot of them do. But some don't. And they're going to keep harping on it unless you address it directly."
"I can stay in the barn, you know. I'm not made of glass, either," Eve said.
Mother looked to Wolf. He gave a little shrug. More and more he spoke less and less. He was stepping out of the lead and into the background, exactly as he promised. Some
times it really pissed her off. "You have two cents to throw in the pot?" she asked him.
"Tell them it's none of their business."
She snorted. "Yeah. That'll go over well."
Wolf shrugged. "You asked."
Mother frowned. "You want me to pick a fight with them?"
"I want you to take a stand. You've been pussyfooting around about the cleaning for damn near a week now. I want you to do what you have to do!"
Wolf's words were far too heated to be about Eve, about the peoples' perception of Eve's role, or even the cleaning. Mother knew then that he was still angry about their argument. "I'm not going to change into a paranoid fruitcake just because you imagine there's danger around every corner!"
Gus looked to Eve. Eve sighed. She had heard the two screaming at each other that morning and knew what was coming. "I think the meeting's done, Gus."
"I don't imagine anything, sister! I look for the danger because I know it's there. I know it for a fact. And you turning a blind eye doesn't make it less real. Hide your head in the fucking sand all you want..."
Mother threw her hands in the air. "Oh here we go again! Come on." She wiggled her fingers towards herself. "Let me have it. Tell me just how little I've done and how stupid I am."
Gus cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. I think Miss Eve's right. I'll, ah, pop back in tomorrow and see what we've come up with for the cleaning plans?" When no one answered, he grabbed his coat off the back of the chair. "Yeah. Well. G'night." Eve followed his lead and scooped up the notebooks. Mother had turned one of the rooms upstairs into a place for Eve to sleep, and she was very glad to have an escape. If she had still been sleeping on the couch, she would have had a very long night. She darted out of the room and couldn't get upstairs fast enough.
"I never called you stupid," Wolf said firmly.
"You might as well."
He sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't want to shout again," he said calmly.
Mother scoffed. "Could have fooled me."
"Stop being frustrating and listen to me for a minute." She opened her mouth, but at his look closed it tight and made a motion for him to continue. He pointed a finger towards the direction of the barn. "Out there are 45 people. They have been through the wringer and are just starting to wake up. And when they do, they will remember that they are not docile livestock."
She felt the outrage flame again. "I do not treat them like livestock!"
"I didn't say you did. I said that's what they are, right now, at this moment. They are beat down and weakened and easily led. But that's going to stop. That's going to change. That's not going to be the case very much longer and if you won't listen, there will be problems. I'm not saying it to scare you."
Mother barked a bitter laugh. "Yeah. Right."
Wolf shrugged. "Fine, maybe I am a little. Because maybe if you're actually scared you'll start to understand what I'm saying. Look, people love their leader. They also hate their leader. You will do something that you have to do, something only you understand needs doing, something they can't or won't do for themselves, and they'll hate it. They'll blindly ignore the facts and turn all their sadness and frustration and anger towards you."
Mother didn't want to listen. She wanted to stick her fingers in her ear and say "la la la" until Wolf stopped talking. She didn't want to think her people could ever be angry with her, and certainly not angry enough to want to hurt her. She didn't want to think like that. But common sense told her Wolf was right. Oh, he was way too dramatic about it all. She was absolutely certain there would never be some mysterious spy-ninja plot to slip in through the tiny basement windows and slit her throat in the middle of the night. That just wasn't going to happen. Still, as uncomfortable as it was to acknowledge, she would piss people off.
"I said you could do what you needed to with the house," she said tiredly. "We don't have to argue. Do what you want."
Wolf counted to ten in his head to make sure he could speak calmly. "I have been, and I will keep fortifying it. I'm not nearly as concerned with the house as I am with you. You still haven't made time for me to teach you how to shoot."
Mother rolled her eyes and stood to get more coffee. "Made time, he says," she said aloud to herself. "As if I can just 'make' time!" She poured the coffee then turned and leaned against the counter. "I don't have any time to make, Wolf."
"You make time for your nightly showers."
She laughed. "I have to be clean."
"For a half hour?"
Her face burned. It was indulgent to spend so long in the shower, and she knew it. "It's the only half hour I get in the day."
In all fairness, Wolf couldn't disagree. She barely even slept all week. "Ten minutes," he offered as a compromise. "Give me ten minutes a day to train you."
"Train me. Like a dog."
He quirked an eyebrow. "Are you going to take issue with everything I say tonight? Because I can leave. I'll walk out and pack my stuff and let you deal with all this yourself." Mother was silent but he could see the fire simmer in her eyes. Good. When she was angry, she thought with more clarity. He pressed his advantage. "Let me teach you some basic defense skills. Blocks. Holds. How to get out of a bad situation."
"How to shoot and kill people."
Wolf didn't like the judgment he heard in her voice, but he knew time would take care of that. She wouldn't believe in the necessity until she lived it. He just had to make sure when that time came, she did what she had to and made it through in one piece. He needed to make sure she'd be alive to hear his I-told-you-so. "Yes. To shoot and kill people when you have to."
She shook her head and assessed the man in front of her. "You must have lead one cold life, Wolf." To her surprise, his cheeks turned red.
"The life I lead meant I learned fast. What you have here is the start of something big."
"I think it's a little premature to celebrate."
"I'll never celebrate that fact," he said in all seriousness. "The more successful you are, the harder my job becomes. And you are the only one that can make any of it easier."
She bit her bottom lip and thought about that. Wolf didn't want her to succeed. And yet, he helped her do just that. He wasn't in it for himself. He had nothing to gain by lying to her. She couldn't figure him out, and had already wasted too much time trying. She gave in. "Fine. Teach me to be a ninja, master."
Wolf gave her a bland look. "You could never be a ninja."
The air was lighter. Their arguing was over. She put her hand to her chest in mock outrage. "You would question my ninjability?"
"Ninjability's not a word."
"Ninjaness?" He shook his head. "Well I can be a ninja if I want to, no matter what it's called."
"Nope. Sorry. You'd never be able to be on a ninja mission without humming your own theme song."
Mother threw her head back and laughed. He had a good point. A very, very good point. "I don't hum all that much."
"Constantly. I swear you have a ditty for every task."
She shrugged and rinsed out her cup, feeling very much better for clearing the air. "So when do we start our training?"
Mother didn't even have time to register the sound of chair legs scraping the floor before Wolf had her trapped, one arm firmly around her waist, the other twisting up around the back of her head and holding her in a headlock. She gasped and wriggled, and he tightened his hold.
"Come on," Wolf said calmly. "Break free."
Her heart slammed in her chest and she could hardly get past the icy grip of fear. "I can't!" It's just Wolf, she told herself. He won't hurt me, her mind begged her to believe. Would he?
"Take a breath. Stop blindly lashing out and consider the situation." Every time she moved, Wolf tightened his hold. He knew he had to be hurting her, but she needed this. She needed to learn. She needed to know that she could reach the point of panic, pain, and fear, and rise above it. "Stop struggling right now," he commanded.
Mother swallowed
her cry and listened. She stopped struggling. "Okay," she said weakly. His hands tightened even more. "You're hurting me!" she gasped.
Wolf clenched his jaw, shutting off the emotion that bubbled up with her words. "Does it make you angry?"
"Yes!" she yelled, struggling against his hold with renewed fervor.
"Good!" he said in her ear. "Get mad. Get so mad you can see everything clearly. Get mad at the hand pressing on the back of your neck and the arm around your middle. Think of them. Think of their weak spots."
Mother struggled blindly for another few seconds before she listened to his words. The arm around her head could snap her neck if she moved wrong. The thought stopped her and she stood still.
"Think," Wolf said firmly. "Think of where you can hit me."
She tried to pull to the left, since it was his right arm around her waist.
"Good idea, but if you do that, your neck's toast." His words were encouraging, but he didn't let up. His muscles felt like bands of steel around her and she had a fleeting thought that it was hopeless. "Where are your arms?"
"Pinned," she spat out angrily.
"No. The upper arms are pinned. You can move from your elbows down."
"So?"
Wolf both liked and hated the venom in her voice. He wished he didn't have to be the one to do this. But, he did. He always did. "You can grab my hand."
Mother grabbed his hand and pulled, but that did nothing. The frustration threatened to make her cry and she stomped her foot. It accidentally came down hard on his and Wolf flinched, his arms easing up, just for the fraction of a second. It was enough. She seized the advantage and twisted her head free. Acting on instinct, she dropped down when he tried to grab her again and he grabbed at air. She hit the floor and quickly rolled away. When she was on her stomach a good distance away from Wolf, she pushed off the floor and stood in a crouch, panting and waiting.
There were angry red marks on her neck. Wolf swallowed hard. Her eyes were bright with bitter tears and her cheeks were flushed. She stood panting and waiting for him to attack her again. I didn't attack you, he wanted to scream. I would never hurt you, he wanted to tell her. But of course he couldn't. He needed Mother to think that he could, he needed her to feel, at least on some level, like he really would snap and she really would have to defend herself against him. If she knew she was in no danger, she wouldn't fight as hard. He hated it. He felt the wave of self-revulsion ripple through him and tamped it down as he always had.
"Good job," Wolf said in a raspy voice. He cleared his throat and tried for levity. "You didn't even hum a theme song. I'm impressed." He leaned back against the counter and tried to look as relaxed as possible, tried to convey with body language that they were done the first lesson and she was safe for the moment.
Mother knew she was seconds from tears. She felt angry. Betrayed. There was a terrified little voice that was still screaming even though she was clearly out of danger. It was her first lesson. Of course he wouldn't have made it easy. "You didn't say we were starting," she said through clenched teeth, still breathing hard and electrified with adrenaline.
Wolf put his hands up. "No one's going to warn you before they attack."
Mother scoffed. "So you plan on doing this all the time?" She ran a shaky hand through her hair and stood up straight, her body still on alert. "Thanks. I'll pass."
"You did well," he said simply.
"I mean it, Wolf. I can't do this. I hate being startled."
He hated startling her. They couldn't get what they wanted, either of them. "It's the best way. You want to be the best. This is how it's going to happen."
A tear rolled down her cheek and she made a strangled little noise. "So you're just going to...going to...waylay me in front of anyone whenever and wherever you want?"
Wolf felt like a bastard as he watched the tear make its way down her neck. One tear. That's all she allowed to fall. Wasn't one tear always the worst? He sighed heavily, pushing the feelings deep inside in that cold, dark, lonely place. "No," he said. "I promise I will never do it in front of other people. That would undermine your authority." And humiliate you, he wanted to add, and I will never do that.
Mother stared at him for a few more seconds. She felt a hate in her she'd never felt before, and she didn't want to hate him. She didn't want him to be right. "It's been a long day," she said with as much pride as she could muster, "And tomorrow's going to be worse."
Wolf nodded and watched Mother pass. He wanted to reach out and hold her and apologize. He watched her walk down the hall and had to steel himself from flinching with the final look she cast him before she opened the door and went to her basement apartment. God damn he felt low. He looked at the clock, knowing it didn't matter how late it was. He wouldn't sleep that night. He put his coat on and stepped out into the cold for a smoke. The bitterness outside matched the bitterness within, but it wasn't enough. The icy night air wasn't cleansing. The smoke burned on its way down, but that wasn't enough, either. They were minor discomforts compared to the torture his mind was putting him through.
He actually put marks on her neck.
"Fuck!" Wolf yelled into the night as he angrily flicked away his cigarette. He glanced to the barn. All was silent, and he was sure the town was asleep. It was a clear night, and he'd have many hours left in his private hell. He looked down the hill at the town below. One glance back at the house, where he knew that if she wasn't sleeping, she was at least feeling safer in her own space, and he started down the hill. There had to be a fucking liquor store somewhere. He'd even drink warm, stale beer. He needed oblivion. Sometimes he just needed it.
The next morning dawned bright and clear and warm. "January thaw," Gus said over and over, even though it was already the first week of February.
Mother squinted in the sun and wondered if she could do without the heavy jacket as she pulled on her gloves. They were gathered in the driveway, she, Eve, Gus, Chuck, and a very silent and barely moving Wolf. She couldn't even look at him. She had no idea what to say. She pulled the sweater up on her neck self-consciously, trying to hide the bruises. If anyone noticed there was something weird in the air, they didn't say anything.
Mother had made the decision that morning to accept Wolf's training and hope he didn't kill her. She reasoned that if his goal had been her death, it would have happened already. In fact, it probably would have happened before she ever knew he existed. After his swift and stunning attack, she had no doubt he could be a silent killer. Maybe he was, though she didn't really think that fit. He was focused on training her, on security. Maybe he was a secret service man before. She wished she could tell him she understood, that she didn't blame him, that after hours of sleepless thought, she could understand where he was coming from. But in the light of day, the words that felt so easy to her in the safe darkness of her room would not come out.
Instead, Mother decided to go ahead with the cleaning plan. It was Chuck who had set her straight. As she hoped and feared, Chuck had been overjoyed to be asked to assist with what he considered a noble and sacred task. "But we can't just rush in there with brooms and mops," he had pointed out, while rubbing his hands together in an eerie manner. "It's going to be messy. So very messy." He smiled. Mother shuddered.
"What do you think we should do, then?"
He hadn't even paused. "First, we need to assess how many houses we need cleaned. Then we need to take a head count. After that, we'll need hazmat suits and gear, tarps, and a dump truck." He had said it all in a rush.
"Wow. You've given this a lot of thought, Chuck," Mother had said uncomfortably.
"Mother of mine, I take the last death to heart," he said very seriously. "These people have left their mortal casings in our hands. It's a noble task to see them off."
Though entirely creepy, his words had struck a chord. "Yes," she said after a moment's thought. "I suppose it really is. Besides, we can't rebuild until they are gone."
"But," Chuck said, holding his finger up s
uddenly. "We also need a plan on what to do with the dearly departed remains."
"You didn't get that far?"
His face spread into a wide, toothy, skeleton-like grin. "Oh, I know what I would do with them. But Mr. Wolfie assures me that you would not have the same inklings. As it's not my town, alas, I must defer to your authority." He bowed, and it became clear to Mother that although he was perhaps the most unusual man she had ever met, he held a deep respect for her authority. She decided then and there to overlook his less than savory qualities and appreciate him anyway.
"Well, we don't have to decide that today, do we?" Mother asked. "For today, let's just get a feel for the task at hand." Chuck agreed and after breakfast, they all met in the barn yard. Some of the other people heard what they were doing. One lady asked to join, but Mother told her they had enough for the day. She assured the woman that she could participate in the actual clean out if she still felt like it, and had Eve note the woman's name.
"Are we ready to do this?" Mother asked the small group. Everyone was. They piled into a van Gus had taken from a house in town. Gus drove, Eve sat in the front, Chuck took up the middle bench by himself, and Wolf had Mother sit with him in the back bench.
"Never have people behind you if you can help it," Wolf said, quietly. It was the first thing he said to her all morning. He wore a black trench coat and dark, mirrored sunglasses. She wanted to ask where he found them, but let it go.
"Were you out drinking all night?" Mother asked when the smell of old alcohol wafted off his breath. When Wolf didn't answer, she poked him with her elbow. "Did you hear me?"
"I'm over twenty one. It's not against the law."
She looked at him for a minute and decided not to argue. "You want to stay here and sleep it off?"
"Nope."
He still wouldn't look at her, and it struck Mother that maybe it wasn't easy on him, either. She'd have to give idea some serious thought when she had time. The van was pulling into the first neighborhood she had chosen, and they had work to do. If Wolf wanted to do this kind of work hungover, she wasn't about to stop him. She had a sore neck, he could have his own uncomfortable day. "Pull over here, Gus," she instructed. Gus pulled the van up the the edge of the plowed street and turned it off. They got out and looked up and down the street.
"I picked this neighborhood first because there are fourteen houses. I think we can break people up into groups for now. Get these cleared, assign roomies, and go from there. At least they'll have some elbow room that way. Sound good?" The group agreed. It wouldn't have mattered if they didn't agree, that was the plan. Mother was almost proud of herself with that realization. They all could have stomped their feet and thrown temper tantrums, and she still would have pushed forward how she wanted. She turned to Wolf, hoping he caught that insight, but he looked the other way. She sighed. "Right. Let's go."
The neighborhood was one of middle class prosperity before everyone in it died. The houses were all on the same sized lots, with little fences between them, and perfect driveways somewhere under all that snow. It was a neighborhood that people probably waited to get into, one that made some billionaire developer another couple million to add to the heap in the vault. The houses all had little touches of individuality, though their concept and layouts would be basically the same. One was white, one was yellow with white trim, one was blue with shutters, one was green with old fashioned slat blinds. All the same, but just different enough to make the buyer feel special, feel unique. The road was called Hummingbird Way, and it went straight down to a cul de sac at the end. Mother knew that it was the kind of neighborhood she never could have afforded when there were other people demanding she pay bills. It struck her as funny that these houses were all hers now, and she told the group that as they walked through the snow across the lawn of the first house.
"And all for the low, low price of biohazard cleaning," Mother said with a grin. The joke was funny to her, but only Chuck laughed. Eve looked horrified, Gus looked uncomfortable, and Wolf looked away. She sighed. "Well, it was funny in my head."
They reached the porch and the rest hung back while Mother stepped to the door. She tried it, and, not surprisingly, it was locked. She turned around to go look for a back door when Wolf stepped up and smashed out the beautiful pane of decorative glass and reached his hand through.
"Thanks," Mother said, wishing she had another excuse to delay. She could already smell death coming from behind broken door. She took a deep breath and pulled her shirt up over her nose. They would definitely have to get masks. "Gas masks," she said to Eve.
"What?" Eve asked. She was standing as far from the door as she could get and still be on the porch.
Mother looked at her, really looked at her for the first time that day. She'd been growing stronger rapidly over the week, but was suddenly very pale again. It occurred to Mother that she'd never offered Eve an out. She never gave Eve the choice to be on this particular mission. She swore to herself and promised to make it right later. "Please make a note that we need gas masks," she called.
Eve nodded and pulled out her little notebook.
"You all stay back here and let me see what we're dealing with."
"Can I come?" asked Chuck, hopefully.
"No. Not yet. Let me get a look first." She saw Wolf give her a little nod. Without any other way to stall, she turned and pushed open the door and forced her legs to move forward into the house. When she was a few steps in, she heard the door close behind her and turned around. Wolf was standing there, his arms crossed over his chest.
"You don't have to be in here," Mother mumbled through the shirt over her mouth. He shrugged, and she was grateful for his presence. She turned around and scanned the room. A living room, empty. The heat was on, and it was ridiculously hot. She scanned the wall for a thermostat. "I think I'll turn the heat down."
"Turn it off," Wolf said.
"Completely?"
"They're baking. Shut it off."
The instant mental image of people literally baking flashed through her mind, and Mother gagged. She stopped herself from losing her breakfast, but just barely. She put a hand to the wall and slowed her breathing until she was sure her stomach was solid. She turned the heat off and made a mental note to do the same in all the houses. She turned to the windows and considered opening them. It was so god damned stuffy and smelly that she could barely think. She opened the window and felt the fresh air enter the room for the first time in months. She turned from the living room and searched the rest of the downstairs. The further she got from the stair case, the less it smelled. They were upstairs, whoever "they" used to be.
Mother paused at the bottom of the stairs to gather her nerve. "I got this," she whispered as she took the first step. "I got this," she said louder when she took the next. And she kept saying it until she was at the top of the stairs and almost believing the words. Her eyes watered with the smell. Every ancient instinct in her body said to run, to save herself. She wished she could obey, or at least make the internal war easier as she ignored the panic and took one step after another.
There were three bedrooms. She could see the daylight stream from the open doorways into the hall. Three bedrooms and one dark room at the end of the hall she assumed was a bathroom. There were three rooms to check. Only three. "I got this," she mumbled.
Mother was shaking by the time she found the first body. It was a man. Maybe? Maybe it used to be a man. He was bloated and rotting and there was a puddle of the components of his former self soaking into the bed underneath. She stared at it in morbid fascination and mortal horror. She would have to face him. She would have to touch him. She would have to find some way to force her own hands to take this dead corpse and get rid of it. She had to. And yet, she couldn't make herself walk through the doorway.
"Are you making a list?" Wolf asked, making her jump. Mother didn't know he followed her up.
"List?" Her mind was utterly blank. She couldn't think. She couldn't think w
ith the rotted gore of a person decomposing right in front of her.
"Your list," he said calmly, "of what this is going to entail."
She swallowed. Yes. Her list. That's what she was doing in there. "I...we'll need to...get him out."
"Not him," Wolf said, knowing he had to put his own inner demons aside and help Mother deal with hers. "He's gone. Whoever he was before is gone."
Wolf was speaking so calmly, so firmly. He wasn't panicking. He wasn't freaking out. It made Mother feel a little less like she was drowning. "Yes."
"He's gone. That's not a person. That's rind. A husk."
She shuddered. "Not helping."
"Then...a shell casing. He's spent, the bullet's gone, and he's just a shell."
A shell. A shell. Mother slowly nodded. "A shell," she said out loud, testing. "Yes. He's a shell."
Good, Wolf thought. Very, very good. "Now, how do we clean up the shells?"
Mother swallowed again and forced her mind to think. He was rotting. No, it was rotting. It. The shell. The shell was rotting. If they grabbed it, it would fall to pieces. They had to wrap it. "We need tarps like Chuck said." She looked around. "The bed's shit. We can't leave that."
"Good call."
"Beds." She thought about the people she stole the truck from. They didn't die in beds. "Couches, chairs. Anything people died on...anything a shell is on, we've got to get it out." She turned to look at Wolf uncertainly. "Right?"
He nodded. "Right."
"It's going to leave a lot of empty rooms."
"We can find more stuff."
Mother nodded and turned back. "I don't know how we can get the smell out. Clean, I guess. That's going to take forever." She thought for a minute, finding it easier and easier to ignore the rotting corpse and focus on the job ahead. "We could have a team that removes the shells, then another that comes in behind for cleaning." She stepped closer to get a better look at the wall near the bed. It appeared to be stained. They'd have to try and clean it. They couldn't cut the walls out of every room. Satisfied that she had a plan for this room, she moved down the hall to the next. Thankfully it was empty. The last room revealed to pets, dogs, cats maybe? Two pets died in pet beds on the floor. "I never thought of pets," she said more to herself than anyone else.
They walked slowly out of the house and it took a minute before her mind kicked back into normal gear and she realized people were asking her questions. "What?" Mother said, snapping out of it.
"How many?" asked Chuck, his eyes the only ones that looked eager.
"One. And two pets."
"Huh?"
Mother pulled the shirt down and uncovered her mouth. Her body automatically took a deep pull of the blessedly fresh, cold air. She gulped it in and closed her eyes. God, the sweetness was heaven. She didn't notice the odd looks the others gave her, especially Eve. Wolf frowned. She needed to be more aware of how she came off to others. He cleared his throat to give her a signal. She stopped taking deep breaths and opened her eyes. "Oh. Right. One shell, two pets."
"Shell?" asked Eve.
"Bodies," said Gus, in his most understanding voice.
Eve blanched, but wrote a one in her little notebook. "Do we really have to do this for all these houses?" she asked.
Mother gave a nod and marched off the porch, then through their tracks in the snow, her mind starting to sort out the logistics. Okay, so they'd need to get tarps, protective clothing, masks, gloves, the works. They come back here with the tarp and somehow wrap the shells. They'd muscle out the rolled up mess, then pull out furniture. Then they'd open the windows, give it some time to air out, and send in a crew to scrub. It was gross, but doable. They could do it. They really didn't have a choice.
"Next house," she called over her shoulder as she trudged to the neighbor's.
And so the day progressed. As Mother saw new problems, she'd discuss it with her people on the porches or when they were taking warm up breaks in the van. She never let them enter, and Chuck wondered why he was even there. "You can go home if you want," she told him. He stayed, and every time he caught the scent of death when Mother opened the doors, he was glad he didn't give up in and leave. There were people inside, waiting for him. He just had to wait a little longer. He had to be patient.
There was a rough patch in the late afternoon when Mother was tired and overwhelmed and came upon the first body of a baby. She couldn't stop the heaving sobs, and as Wolf stood back and watched, he wondered if she even knew she made the sounds. She gripped the crib and shook with bitterness and disgust and anger, raging about the waste of the future and the unfairness of it all. Wolf just let her get it out. He was surprised it had taken so long for her to vent. Mother ended her rant with a final, gut-wrenching sob, then stood to catch her breath. By the time she turned to Wolf, she was visibly calm. She could present herself in front of the rest and they'd buy it. He knew he'd have to watch her later, though. The face of a leader that was presented in public was only a mask. Over and over he'd seen that proven. He'd definitely have to watch her later.
By the time they rolled up the hill, the smells of the evening meal being cooked hung in the air. "Who's cooking?" Wolf asked.
"Janice and Coraline," Eve answered. She was shuffling through the notes she'd been making all day, trying to get them in order for the meeting she believed they'd have after dinner.
Wolf turned to Mother with a scowl on his face. "You didn't clear them to be cooking food."
"Not tonight," she said quietly.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means I will not deal with your security bullshit tonight." Her words were solid, cold, and firm, and Wolf was proud. "They needed to eat today," Mother continued. "And we were just a little busy. Someone had to do it and I trust Janice and Coraline. Even if Coraline's a bitch, I don't think she'd ever do anything to hurt people. So yes, I allowed them to get the food I selected for the meals, and yes, I allowed them to cook it. You got a problem with that?" Her voice pitched high, like she was on the verge of snapping.
Wolf knew he had to tread lightly. He gave a little shrug. "I told you. Your town, your call. Do what you have to."
Mother looked like she was ready to slap him. The van pulled up and parked in the lot, and the jarring stop took her attention off Wolf. She numbly got out and walked up towards the house. Wolf took out the bottle of aspirin he had swiped from one of the houses and popped a few pills into his mouth. He crunched them down and took a deep breath before heading in after her.
Janice and Coraline were chatting in the kitchen with Steve, Mack, and Cindy when Wolf entered. Mother was simply standing in the doorway of the kitchen, watching. Her mouth was clenched shut and Wolf could see the muscles of the jaw tick. Clearly she was angry. It had only been a week, but already he knew when she was about to blow. Good. She needed to blow. He slid his hand to the hilt of the knife at his belt in case there was trouble, but stood back to see what she'd do.
"Why is there a party going on in my house?" Mother snapped at the group.
Like teenagers caught in the act when their parents returned home early from work, the group stopped talking and spun as one to look at Mother, eyes wide and scared at her tone.
"Mother!" said Janice, putting the spoon down. "You're back! Just in time, too. Dinner's almost ready."
Mother was in no mood for Janice's perkiness. "Why are there other people in this house?" She demanded.
Janice looked to Steve, Mack, and Cindy. They were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. Mother saw that there was a box of crackers open on the table between them and her anger turned to outrage. She pushed past Janice and snatched up the box.
"Snacks?" She turned to Steve. "You were in here eating snacks?"
"I...we just..." Steve swallowed hard. "We came in to see if the ladies needed help cooking and...we..."
"I gave him the crackers," said Coraline.
Mother whipped around to face her. Coraline stood with her hand on her hip
, a challenging look in her eyes. "What gives you the right to give away our food?"
Coraline rolled her eyes. "It was one fucking box of crackers."
Something in Mother snapped. Something that had wound tight through the day finally released and she couldn't stop herself from slapping the look right off Coraline's face. There was a collective gasp from the crowd as Coraline reared back and covered the burning hand print on her cheek. "Don't you get it?" Mother bellowed. "One fucking box of crackers can mean life or death!"
Tears pooled in Coraline's eyes. "It's one box. One god damned box. If our survival comes down to one stupid box of fucking crackers then we would have been better off at Walmart."
Mother felt the scream bubble up inside and she tried to tamp it down. "You miss Walmart? You miss wallowing in your own filth?" She stepped back and pointed to the back door. "There's the door. Be my guest." She turned and grabbed a case of vegetables the women had been working on opening and thrust it at Coraline. "Here. Take this with you. Take this and get the fuck out if that's what you want!"
Coraline could not move. No one could move. They sat or stood uncomfortably, wondering how their pleasant afternoon turned sour so fast. When Coraline wouldn't take the food, Mother slammed it down on the counter and ran a shaking hand through her hair. She was madder than she'd ever been in her life and she hated it. She hated herself for caving and making such a scene.
"Today I had to go through houses," Mother said carefully, every word clear and deliberate. "I had to take a count of the dead bodies that I will have to remove to give all of you a place to live." They knew it, of course. It had been announced at breakfast. But she bet they had no idea what it all really meant. "I had to look at rotting people." She looked Coraline in the eye, and Coraline found she couldn't look away. "I spent my day figuring out how I am going to get rid of forty rotting, festering people so that you can have a home." She pointed to Coraline, then turned to the others and pointed in turn. "And you, and you, and you, and you."
"We didn't mean..." Janice began.
But Mother wouldn't have it. "I told you and Coraline to cook tonight. That was your job. I did not tell you to have friends over for a party and snacks while I was mucking around in dead people all day!"
The sound of the stew bubbling was the only thing that filled the silence for the next few moments as they took in what Mother was saying, and Mother tried to calm herself down. When she could speak without shouting, she ordered Steve, Mack and Cindy to leave, then told Eve to stop eavesdropping and get in to finish the meal. She told Coraline and Janice to have a seat at the table, then got herself a coffee just to make sure she could speak without biting their heads off.
"Do you understand why I'm so angry?" she asked. She'd get no cooperation from Coraline. The tears in her eyes were definitely from anger and she still held her hand over the slap mark. Mother regretted losing her cool that badly. She'd have to try and make it up to Coraline sometime, but not right then. Right then Coraline didn't need an apology, she needed an explanation so she would have an understanding of why it really was a big deal to make their own agendas.
Mother decided to sit. She folded her hands in front of her on the table and looked at the women. "I asked the two of you to cook tonight. I gave you specific instructions on what to cook, how many cans of food to open, and how much to serve. I told both of you that you two were the only ones to be allowed in the kitchen or the store room, and yet I come home and you're handing out snack to buddies. Can you understand why I'm upset?"
"Yes, ma'am," said Janice. She truly did look contrite.
"There was an entire room of crackers," Coraline said angrily. "You can't spare one for people who are working hard?"
Mother felt like lunging across the table and slapping the woman again. She felt Wolf move to stand behind her. For some reason, the backup helped her reign it in. She took a breath and then answered. "No. The simple answer is no."
Coraline scoffed. "So you're just hoarding it all for yourself."
"No," said Mother firmly. "I hoarded it all for you. And I counted the food and tallied every single box." She turned to Eve. "Get me the notebook." Eve put the spoon down then opened a drawer and pulled the food stores notebook out. When she handed it over, Mother thanked her and put the notebook in the middle of the table.
"Here," she said. "Take a look if you want. That's every known food item in town. And if you'll flip it open to the front cover, you'll see where we spent a long night going over the numbers and crunching figures. Do the math. It only looks like so much because it's all in a small room. But look at the kitchen counter. That one case of food is going to go tonight. Actually more when you add in the six cans of beef chunks for the stew. A case and a half for one meal. One meal. All that gone." Mother shoved the notebook towards Coraline. She didn't have to sell Janice. Janice was openly sniffling, and Mother had no doubt that in the future, Janice would do exactly what she was told and only that. It was Coraline she needed to convince.
"I don't need to look at your math," Coraline grumbled.
Mother flipped the lid open. "Look at it," she demanded, tapping the number under a long column of figures. "Look at that right there. What does that say?" Coraline didn't look. She crossed her arms over her chest and turned her head away. "Stop being a fucking baby for once and listen! That right there is how many days we have. If we keep eating at this rate and can't get more food, that's how many days we have. How many does it say?"
"Thirty-four," said Janice. "Oh, god!"
"Thirty-four. Sixty-eight if we cut the rations in half, about a hundred if we go with the bare minimum needed for survival." Janice let out a moan, but Mother's attention was firmly on Coraline. "So yes, one box of crackers is a big deal."
"That's not all the food in the world, you know," Coraline said.
"Nope. Sure isn't, and if this weather can hold, we'll get more."
"Oh thank god!" said Janice.
"But that'll run out, too, and faster than we want it to. Every bit of food has to be counted and shared."
Coraline scoffed. "Commie."
Was it communistic? Could it be helped? Mother sighed. "Whatever. My town, my rules. You don't like them, you can leave. I'll give you a head start too, just so you can't say I never did anything for you. So. You leaving?"
"No!" Janice said quickly.
Coraline didn't answer.
"As to the extra people in here, when you've got a job to do, you do it."
"They didn't have anything to do," Janice pointed out. "We didn't see the harm in having them sit at the table and chat. It's not like we weren't doing our work."
"Yeah," said Coraline, jumping on the bandwagon. "Are you saying we can't even talk while we work now?"
Mother wished Wolf would jump in with some of his safety talk, but he didn't. He stood behind her and let her run her town. She felt like giving him a good slap, too. "You're right. They had no work. I was letting people get used to being here and having good meals and getting strong again before I gave everyone jobs." It was a good lie and she loved how honest it sounded rolling off the tongue. In reality, she'd never given it much thought. Of course they were getting antsy. They sat around a barnyard all day. There was only so much snow to shovel, only so many times they could muck Phil's stall before he got fed up with their interference. "I'll make a work schedule. And people will stick to it. This is my house. In here, we hold the supplies for the entire town. I can't have people in here I don't know about."
"People are in all the time to use the bathroom," Coraline pointed out.
"Yes, and that's the only concession Wolf made to safety protocols. If he had his way, you'd all be shitting in the snow. Don't abuse the privilege." Mother looked the two women over. She was certain Janice took every word to heart, and even Coraline looked like she grudgingly understood. Coraline wasn't stupid. She may be hurt and angry in the moment, but she wasn't stupid. She'd think about what was said and see the reasoning behind Moth
er's outburst.
"Go to the barn and tell everyone it's almost dinner." The women rose without another word and left through the back door. As soon as it closed, Mother put her head forward to heavily drop it on the table. She took a deep breath and then another. God it was a long day.
"Dinner's ready, Mother," said Eve quietly.
"Serve it up. Wolf would you help carry it out?"
"Aren't you coming?" Eve asked.
"No."
"You need to eat," Wolf said firmly.
"Not tonight."
Eve opened her mouth to argue but Wolf gave a little shake of his head. Mother was close to completely losing it. There was a time to press an issue, and then there was a time to let it go. He'd let this one go. He nodded toward the door and picked up the large stew pot. They left Mother with her head on the table.
As soon as she heard the door shut, the overwhelming urge to run away hit and Mother rose and walked with purpose to the far door. She opened the door and stepped out into the cool evening, then strode off the porch and started down the road. She didn't know where she was going. The need to flee was just too much to ignore, too great to fight, and she let her subconscious control her steps. One foot in front of the other, get away. One foot in front of the other, leave them behind. One foot in front of the other to freedom. She heard the rumble of the truck and had a fleeting thought to run. She stopped, defeated. She couldn't get away.
"Want a ride?" Wolf asked as he pulled up, surprised at how far she got so fast.
Mother took a deep breath and turned. Tears were streaming down her face and she didn't even know it. "Can we go to Tahiti?"
He gave a nod. "Yup."
Mother studied him for a second. He wasn't joking. "You'd really take me to Tahiti, after forcing all these people on me?"
"I didn't force anything on you. You wanted all of this. And yes, I'd take you in a heartbeat if I didn't think you'd hate me for it a day later." Wolf leaned over and opened the passenger's side door. "Come on. Let's go for a little drive and it'll clear your head."
Mother sighed and got in. She slammed the door and leaned against the window to watch the darkening town as Wolf drove aimlessly through the freshly plowed streets. "They got a lot done," Mother said after awhile.
"Yes, but we're running low on gas."
"Already?"
"Yup."
She sighed heavily, another stone added to the weight on her shoulders. "Of course we are. We're running out of gas. We're running out of food. We're running out of patience."
"Is this a 'poor me' session?"
Mother snorted. "Haven't I earned one?"
"I told you I'm not a shrink."
He had. "Fine. But I'm at least going to brood." She reached over and snapped on the radio, then flipped through the stations. There was nothing but static. "Why do you suppose the radio doesn't work?"
"You'd probably find some stations that still do. Some of the newer ones are pretty automated," Wolf explained. "Might run the same two or three hour loop over and over."
Mother didn't find any working stations, then opened the truck's glove compartment to look for CDs. There were a couple, and she selected Hot Hits of the 80's. "This will be a blast from the past for you," she said, popping one in. When the first song came on, she leaned back and let the music help her mind empty.
They drove around all the plowed streets, then did it again. Seven songs. They could get through seven whole songs before they traveled the same road again. It seemed like a good sized town to her. "We're wasting gas," Mother said eventually.
"Yup."
"We should head back."
"Are you ready?"
She looked at Wolf's face in the glow of the dashboard. He was tired. She could see the bags under his eyes, and remembered the state he showed up to the barn in that morning. "Are you going to make it a habit of drinking all night?"
His jaw clenched. "Nope."
"I'm not mad," she said simply.
Wolf's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "I said I won't do that again."
"No. I meant about last night. I get it."
Wolf wanted her mad. He wanted her to be as pissed at him as he was. "I'm going to do it again."
Mother nodded. "I know." She turned her head to watch the neighborhoods pass. Houses she'd have to clean. More bodies to tally and drag away. It suddenly occurred to her they didn't have a plan. Take the bodies out, and then what? The acid of the coffee in her stomach gurgled and burned. Shit. She'd have to decide what to do with them all. "Just don't do it tonight," she asked quietly.
Wolf cleared his throat against the well of unwanted emotion. "I won't," he promised. He turned the truck up the road to the house and wished he hadn't promised her he wouldn't go out drinking. He didn't remember much about the previous night after he found the liquor store. He didn't remember what he drank, didn't remember how he found a leather trench coat or where he got the expensive sunglasses. He didn't remember much, and that was amazing. He rarely let himself succumb to base desires, and getting smashed certainly fell into that category. It was wonderful. Heavenly, if he believed in such things. And he wouldn't let it happen again.
But wouldn't it be nice if he could?