Z for Zachariah

Chapter Twenty-six

August 8th

From the start the interview did not go as I had planned. Mr Loomis came on the tractor at top speed, with the gun across his lap. I shouted to him to Stop, to Halt; but he did not even slow the tractor. Instead, he came on. I thought perhaps he could not hear me over the sound of the engine and in desperation I fired my rifle into the air, but if he heard the shot he ignored it. He drove the tractor to the very top of Burden Hill, just opposite my hiding place. He jumped down and began to scan the road towards Ogdentown.

My heart was pounding and I did not know what to do. His back was towards me, but I could not shoot. I was not even sure I could speak, but I tried and my voice came out reasonably firm.

“Drop your gun,” I said.

Instantly he whirled and fired in the direction of my voice. He had not yet seen me but I was no more than 25 feet away. I knew it was the end. I was sixteen and I had worked so hard to keep things going and now I was going to die. A wave of disappointment swept over me, disappointment so bitter it wiped out even my fear. I stood up and faced him. I do not know why he did not shoot me. Instead he saw the safe-suit and began to shout:

“It’s mine. You know it’s mine. Take it off!”

“No,” I said, “I won’t.”

He aimed the gun at me. I stood still. I could not think what to do, so that when words came from my mouth even I was surprised and not conscious of having thought. I realize now they probably saved my life.

“Yes,” I said, “you can kill me… the way you killed Edward.”

He stared at me. Then he shook his head, as if he had heard it wrong, or not heard the words at all. Yet he lowered the gun and stepped back.

“No,” he said, “you don’t know that…” His voice was weak.

“You told me when you were sick.” I said. “You told me how you shot him in the chest. You had to patch the bullet holes in the suit.”

Now Mr Loomis turned away from me. For a moment he just stood there; I was not sure but I thought that his shoulders were trembling. After a time he spoke quietly.

’’He tried to steal the suit… the way you are stealing it now.”

“I have no choice,” I said. “I didn’t want to die, and you wouldn’t give me anything. During the winter I would have starved on the hillside. I don’t want to live with you hunting me as if I were an animal, and I will never agree to be your prisoner.” I felt reassured by my own voice and talked on:

“I’ll search for a place where there are other people, people who will welcome me. To stop me you will have to kill me, too.”

“It’s wrong,” he said, but he knew that I meant it, and his tone was frightened and bewildered. I thought he was going to cry.

“Don’t go,” he said. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me here alone.”

I spoke carefully:

“If you shoot me you will really be alone. You searched for months and found no one else. There may not be anyone else. But if I should find people I will tell them about you, and they may come. In the meantime you have food. You have the tractor and the store. You have the valley.”

There was bitterness in my voice. And suddenly, feeling near tears myself,

“You didn’t even thank me for taking care of you when you were sick.”

So my last words were childish.

That was all. I adjusted the mask so that it fitted tightly over my face, and cool air from the tank flowed into my mouth. I turned my back on him. I waited for the jar and the sharp pain of a bullet, but it did not come. I went into the deadness. I heard Mr Loomis calling after me, but the mask covered my ears, so that his voice seemed garbled and far away, and I could not understand. I walked on. Yet suddenly his voice came clearly to me, and I realized he was calling my name. There was something in his tone that made me stop and look back up the hill. He was standing at the very edge of the deadness. He was pointing to the west and he seemed to shout the same thing over and over. Then I heard him.

“Birds,” he said, “I saw birds… west of here… circling. They went away and I couldn’t find the place. I saw them.”

I raised my hand to him to let him know that I had understood. Then I forced myself to turn and walk away.

Now it is morning. I do not know where I am. I walked all afternoon and almost all night until I was so tired I could not go on. Then I did not bother to put up the tent, just spread my blanket by the roadside and lay down. While I was sleeping the dream came, and in the dream I walked until I found the schoolroom and the children. When I awoke the sun was high in the sky. A stream was flowing through the brown grass, winding west. The dream was gone, yet I knew which way to go. As I walk I search the horizon for a trace of green. I am hopeful.