Pushing On

31

John woke up early in the morning. Sunlight came through the small windows of Dale’s cabin.

He was a little stiff, but not too bad. He felt stronger than he had yesterday. A lot stronger. He was regaining his strength.

It had been a long time since John had felt so rested. He’d spent the night in the chair, something that months ago he would have thought sounded far too uncomfortable. But it was better than the uneven ground out in the woods. It was better than sleeping on rocks, or not sleeping at all.

He’d only woken up twice that night. Normally, when he and Cynthia had slept outside, he’d never go a full night without waking up a dozen times, his heart pounding, fearing that some attack was looming immediately, close and deadly.

But it had only been Kiki, barking loudly and deeply, that had woken him up. Each time, she’d settled down soon enough, lying back down on the wooden floorboards of the cabin.

They hadn’t kept a watch, which had felt strange and dangerous to John and Cynthia. But Dale had assured them there was nothing to worry about, that Kiki was a better watchman than any human under the sun. They’d been so tired, and John so weak, that they didn’t have it in them to protest.

John looked around. Dale and Kiki were gone, probably on a walk around the property.

Cynthia snored lightly nearby, curled up in her wooden chair. She looked cute like that, almost beautiful. Her hair had come undone from her braid, and it hung messily around her, the sunlight hitting it just right.

John got up silently, so as not to wake Cynthia. He had to urinate, and, looking around, there didn’t seem to be any kind of bathroom facilities. Not that he would have expected any in a cabin like this. But he hadn’t seen an outhouse either.

That was fine with John. He’d do what he’d done since the EMP, and go in the great outdoors.

John patted his gun on his hip before opening the door as quietly as he could. He took one last look at Cynthia to make sure he hadn’t woken her up before stepping outside.

The air had a chilly bite to it. The sun was still low in the sky and hadn’t yet started to warm everything up.

John cast his eyes around. Everything looked peaceful and calm. The trees swayed slightly in an early morning breeze.

John found his way along a narrow path that wound its way through the trees. He stepped off the path, so as not to leave urine on the path itself, unzipped his pants, and breathed a sigh of relief.

He’d had a lot of tea last night, and the stream continued and continued, seemingly relentlessly.

There was a sound off to his right. A twig cracking, or something similar.

John turned his head sharply, but he saw nothing.

Must have just been an animal. A squirrel or rabbit.

Nothing but quiet, now.

John must have imagined it. He was still jumpy, though, and on guard, considering that he knew for a fact there were two criminals out there with firearms. Sure, they may have headed off in some other direction. That was what he was hoping for.

John finally finished, and his early morning cold fingers found the zipper with some difficulty.

As he was zipping up, a tremendous bang rang out in the forest.

It was a gunshot. It came from over where he’d heard the twig snapping.

The bullet smashed into a tree a mere foot from his head. Wood splinters exploded outward from the tree. John felt some of them hit his shirt.

John threw himself to the ground. Quickly and instinctively. His hand reached for his gun.

It felt good in his hand. Cold and firm.

On his belly, he thrust the gun in front of him, holding it with both hands. His eyes darted back and forth, trying to find the attacker.

A flash of movement up ahead. An orange jumpsuit. Unmistakable. So it was the criminals. Or one of them, at least.

John knew that if there was one there, there’d be another one nearby. Shit. He might get attacked from behind. He’d never know it until it was too late.

It was good John and Cynthia had been practicing so much with the firearms. He certainly was still no expert, but he was a lot better. Everything about the gun felt natural to John now, and he felt confident he could hit the guy, provided he could just get a clear shot.

The orange jumpsuit was hidden behind a tree. But the guy would have to move. He couldn’t stay there forever.

John kept his eyes on the tree the jumpsuit had disappeared behind. If he took his eyes off to check for another attacker, he’d risk losing his chance of getting a shot off.

So he kept his ears peeled, listening as close as he could for sounds coming from any direction.

A flash of the orange jumpsuit up ahead.

John was ready.

He squeezed the trigger.

The other guy didn’t stand a chance. He didn’t even have time to get off a shot.

He collapsed to the ground. John’s round hit him square in the chest.

Somewhere, off in the forest, a dog barked. It had to be Kiki.

John spun around.

The other convict was there, his hand gripping a pistol, rising up to point the gun at John. It seemed to happen in slow motion.

Before John could throw himself onto the ground, a crack rang out. Another shot had been fired.

The convict fell, his heavy body hitting the ground with a soft thud. Blood poured from his head.

Dale stood off in the distance, partially obscured by a tree. He held a rifle, the scope pushed to his eye. He lowered the rifle.

“Not a bad shot, eh?” called out Dale. “There were only two of them, right?”

“Just two, yeah.”

Dale was striding over.

Kiki got to John before Dale did. She came up and started licking his hand.

“Good girl, good girl,” said John.

“You feeling all right?” said Dale, clapping John on the back.

“Better than yesterday, that’s for sure.”

“How’s that arm doing?”

“Feels fine. I’ll get Cynthia to take another look at it today. Thanks, by the way. You’ve saved my life. Maybe twice now.”

“Don’t think anything of it,” said Dale. “It wasn’t a hard shot. Come on, let’s go see if we can tune into that broadcast.”

John felt excitement bubbling up in his chest. The convicts had made him briefly forget about it, and the excitement he’d felt last night about the possibility of hearing someone’s voice piping through a radio.

“What about the bodies?”

“I’ll take care of them later,” said Dale. “Come on.”

John turned to follow Dale towards the cabin.

“Everyone all right?” called out an unseen Cynthia.

“We’re fine,” yelled Dale happily. “Just took care of some scumbags. We each got one. Not bad for an early morning session.”

Cynthia stepped out from behind a tree where she’d been hiding. She was holding her handgun, ready to shoot.

“I couldn’t tell what was happening,” she said. “I heard gunshots, and didn’t know who’d been shot.”

“You did the right thing by staying hidden. I could have been dead. It wouldn’t have done any good to come running,” said John.

“You don’t need to tell me that. Why do you think I stayed hidden?”

“She’s a fiery one,” chuckled Dale. “Come on, before we miss the broadcast.”

They followed Dale inside, and Kiki followed them.

“Now first Kiki needs a little treat,” said Dale, taking one of the sausages from last night and tossing it to Kiki, who caught it in mid-air. “And now, for the moment we’ve all been waiting for.”

John and Cynthia sat back in their wooden chairs, the same ones they’d slept in, and watched anxiously as Dale opened a big wooden trunk that was tucked away in one of the corners of the small cabin.

“Now it may not look fancy, this Faraday cage of mine, but trust me, it does the trick.”

It was homemade, and looked like pieces of chicken-wire had been smushed together.

Dale struggled briefly with the mesh, but he got the radio out.

“Standard shortwave radio,” he said. “Nothing fancy. But it works, which is more than you can say about most of these radios. Now, let’s see, we’ve got one minute. Good timing.”

“Why does your watch still work?” said Cynthia, apparently noticing for the first time that Dale wore a working watch.

“No batteries,” said Dale, grinning. “It’s a mechanical watch. Not a drop of electricity in the whole thing. Old Russian military watch. Won it during a card game twenty years ago, and it’s been going strong ever since. Tough as nails, too.”

Dale was fiddling with the radio and glancing at his watch, watching the red second hand ticking across the blue dial, on which, inexplicably, was a picture of a scuba diver.

“OK, here goes nothing. Quiet, everyone.”

John and Cynthia didn’t need to be told. They didn’t know what they’d hear. But really, anything would be something. Anything would be a spark of hope. Hope that there were others out there, working on rebuilding something, even if it was something as simple as a rudimentary communication network.

The radio hissed and crackled.

Someone’s voice came through. It was a woman’s voice. She sounded young, around college age, but it was hard to tell with all the static.

“Zoe coming at you today. Hope you’re all ready for the exciting updates of this beautiful Tuesday here in upstate New York… undisclosed location, of course…”

A brief hiss of static obscured the announcer’s words momentarily.

“Hope you’re all hunkering down and surviving as best you can. I know we’ve all been working on our canning here. Lots of berries to preserve for the coming winter. Make sure you’ve all got your gear ready and don’t forget to air it out. Just because we don’t have traditional showers, and just because no one’s using deodorant, doesn’t mean we all have to stink any more than we have to. And yes, I’m referring to you, Ted. Now… OK, they’re telling me I have to get onto the—” another hiss of static “—and that wraps it up for that little sad announcement, but as I’ve said over and over, there’s not much good news these days. But we’ll take what we can get when we can get it.”

Dale was chuckling, muttering, “That girl’s really something.”

John and Cynthia glanced at each other. They didn’t know what to make of the announcement so far. It was silly and kind of goofy, in an offbeat kind of tone that belied the experiences they’d had so far.

John and Cynthia had struggled. They’d almost been killed who knew how many times. And they’d had to shoot to kill. They were dirty and mud streaked and blood stained. But this young woman on the radio was cracking jokes and talking about preserving berries.

“And now we’re going to get to the list… so far we haven’t learned of connecting anyone together. But if you’re out there listening, maybe you’ll hear of a family member or friend who’s still alive. An unnamed community in an unknown location in Pennsylvania recently had the following visitors, who apparently refused to give their full names. Now that’s not much good for most, but maybe you’ll know the whole group, and be able to identify them by their first names. I really have no idea.”

More static hissed through the radio.

“So to repeat that list, we have: Max, Mandy, Georgia, Chad, Sadie, and James. OK, folks, that about wraps it up. We’ll be on the air again Thursday. Same time, same channel. Keep a cool head, and keep those guns within arm’s reach. Over and out.”

“Hell of a program, right?” said Dale.

Max and Chad…

John couldn’t believe it.

Max and Chad. In Pennsylvania. There was no way it wasn’t his brother and his childhood friend.

“Cat got your tongue or something?” said Dale.

Cynthia was staring at him. “You think that’s your brother? Wasn’t he named Max?”

“It’s definitely my brother,” said John. “I know Chad, too. No idea what he’s doing with Max… but… he’s alive.”

“That’s your brother?” said Dale.

John nodded.

He felt, for the first time in a while, that there was some hope for himself and Cynthia. He didn’t know why the news of Max gave him hope, but it did.

“Too bad we don’t know where he is,” said Cynthia.

“You don’t know where the other community is, do you?” said John, looking at Dale.

Dale shook his head. “Nope, nobody does. But I could hazard a guess.”

“A guess?”

“Well, there aren’t too many spots where I’d make one if I was the type to start up a community. If I wasn’t such a solitary guy, you know. And there were rumors for a few years of one… people were setting something up, some group… I forget off the top of my head.”

“Do you have it written down or anything? Or on a map?”

Dale laughed. “Nope. I’ve never been one to keep things on paper. Everything’s up here.” He tapped his head with his knuckles. “Except for when I forget it.”

John didn’t know what to say. For a brief moment, it had seemed like he might be able to find Max. Now that hope was dashed.

“How’d you hear those rumors?” said Cynthia.

“Oh, a friend in town,” said Dale. “Haven’t seen him since the EMP. But he’d probably still know, if he’s still alive.”

Cynthia and John looked at each other.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I think so.”

“You really want to find your brother?” said Dale.

John nodded.

“From what John tells me,” said Cynthia, “he’d be a big help to our survival.”

“Yeah,” muttered John. “But that was back when we thought he was at the farmhouse… Now, I don’t know…”

“I think we should try to find him,” said Cynthia.

“You think so?”

“Hell,” said Dale. “If I had a brother, and knew he was alive, I’d try to find him, even if he knew shit about surviving.”

John made the decision in an instant. “All right,” he said. “We’ll do it. At the very least, if we can find this community, maybe it’s a place we could fit into. Even if Max isn’t still there. You in, Cynthia?”

Cynthia nodded.

“OK,” said John. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a plan. For now, at least.”

“Stay for another day,” said Dale. “I’ll get you two well fed, and get some extra food ready for you to take.”

“You’ve done enough already,” said Cynthia.

Dale smiled. “I’ve got plenty,” he said. “And I want to help. So the wise thing to do would be to take what I give you.”

“Can’t argue with that, I guess.”

“You know what,” said Dale. “Maybe I’ll come with you two. Just to the town, that is. I’ll introduce you to Harry. He can be a cranky old geezer, but he sure as hell always knows what’s going on. Has his ear to the ground, so to speak.”

Cynthia looked at John, probably expecting him to decline.

“That’d be great,” said John, knowing that Dale would be a good man to have along.