Page 7 of Embers

That was the end of the conversation. Derek fell into helpless coughing, and I heard Cal moving around, so I went on in.

Ever since I overheard it, the conversation has sat like a heavy weight in my mind.

I believe Cal meant it when he promised to take care of me, but I don’t share anything with this man except a boy we both loved, and I don’t like him any better now than I did eight months ago. I don’t want to stay here—completely alone with him and isolated from everyone else. Surely there’s a better situation for me. Somewhere.

It’s been so long since I’ve been out in the world that I can’t even make reasonable plans for myself.

I’ve just turned eighteen. There’s got to be some sort of future for me other than day after endless day with a rude, hard man I don’t like.

When it gets to be dinnertime, I start a small fire in the woodstove so I can make an omelet with three eggs and some pork jerky and warm up a can of baked beans. I split the omelet and beans between two plates.

Cal returns to the house with fresh water right as the meal is prepared, and we both sit at the small table to eat. I finish my food and drink two glasses of water. Cal scrapes his plate clean and gulps down three glasses.

Neither of us says a word.

It’s dark in the cabin by the time we finish, the only light coming from the front door that Cal left open. The sunlight was hurting Derek’s eyes over the past few weeks, so Cal tacked up cardboard over all the windows. The house smells like smoke and is full of deep shadows and memories of Derek.

I hate it. I hate everything.

I want to go home, but I don’t have one anymore.

Cal picks up our dishes and takes them to the sink to wash them with some of the water he brought in. Then he opens a cupboard and looks inside at our depleted stock. “Gettin’ low on canned stuff.” He hasn’t gone out as much as usual for a couple of weeks since Derek had so little time left. “I’ll head out tomorrow and look for more. Still plenty of out-of-the-way places I can hit around here.”

“Okay.” What else can I say? He’s acting like there’s no question but that I’ll stay here with him. My dead boyfriend’s father. Who might as well be a stranger to me.

I’m not going to do it. There’s got to be something better out there for me.

Tomorrow I’m going to find it.

* * *

The next day, I wait until Cal does his chores and takes off in his truck before I leave myself. I don’t have a vehicle, but Derek used one of the smaller motorcycles before he was too sick to drive, so I take that one.

Surely Cal won’t mind. It’s not like he needs it. He’s never ridden this one himself.

I don’t leave a note or take anything with me except a few strips of pork jerky, the small pistol Cal always let me use, and my own clothes stuffed into Derek’s old backpack.

When I’m not here later after Cal returns, he’ll see the motorcycle, pistol, and my clothes are gone, and he’ll know I’ve left.

He’ll most likely be relieved. After all, who’d want to be saddled with the burden of a teenage girl? One he’s not related to and has no emotional ties to.

I feel weird and sick and irrationally guilty as I drive away, but I push the feelings out of my conscious mind. This is the right thing. Surely there are at least a few people I used to know left in town. I can find them. I don’t mind hard work, and I’m okay with scrabbling out any sort of life for myself as long as I can be my own person.

I do have enough common sense to park outside of town—at the old Exxon station at the bottom of the mountain—and walk into town instead of riding. The motorcycle makes a lot of noise, and it’s smarter to stay off the radar until I know what I’m going to find there.

I’ve been up in Cal’s cabin for a long time, completely isolated from the rest of the world. I don’t know what’s happening anywhere—except the few things Cal has mentioned. I vaguely expect my hometown to be similar to the way I left it, but I’m wrong. And painfully naive.

It’s like a war zone.

Half the buildings are burned down or collapsed, and the streets are mostly empty. I dart from one abandoned house to another, taking shelter and staying out of sight. There are a few people around, but none I recognize, and they hurry back and forth through neighborhoods that used to be warm and friendly, eyes downcast and never saying a word. Occasionally I see groups of big, scary guys with guns.

I’d assumed that the group who invaded this town would have moved on as soon as there was nothing left to pillage, but someone must have stayed. After about an hour of skittish observation, my best guess is that some sort of gang is in control of town, and anyone left living here is at their mercy.

As soon as I come to this realization, I panic. I never should have come here. It was stupid. I should have known better than to think that anything in this world would be the same after so many months.

Everyone I knew and trusted is long gone. I’m all alone and in a lot of danger.

I manage to get to Derek’s mom’s old house. It’s still basically standing, with only the front wall collapsed. I go in through the back door and hurry down to the basement. It smells the same. Feels as safe as anything would.

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