(Book 2)What Remains (23 page)

Our faces must have revealed that we were
pondering what the horrible alternative could have been because his
voice let up on the seriousness for the first time.

“Y’all got names?”

“Nathan,” I said, offering my hand to shake. He
took my hand in a painfully firm grip. “This is my wife,
Sarah.”

“Good to meet you both. My name is Randall
Fisher.” Randall stepped towards Calise. “How about you little
lady?” She said nothing back. Instead she squeezed her kitties so
tightly that the stuffing bulged. He reacted to her shyness like
only a father with daughters would be able to. “Those are some
pretty cats you have there! Will you tell me their names?”

She smiled, warming up to him in one fell swoop.
“This is Van Gough.” Van Gough was extended outward.

Randall took Van Gough’s paw and shook it like
he had my hand seconds before. “Well hi there, Van Gough! That’s a
funny name for a kitty. What about the other one?”

“This is Colonel Meows-a-lot,” Calise proudly
announced.

“Now that’s a name for a cat! It’s an honor to
meet you Colonel.” He saluted the plush cat when Calise held it
up.

A giggle escaped from the sweet smile that grew
on her face. Sarah and I watched carefully, still on guard.

“My name is Calise. I’m five years old. That’s
my brother, Maddox. He’s eight.”

Maddox jumped in to shake Randall’s hand. He
made his voice as deep as he could muster, “Nice to meet you, Mr.
Fisher.”

“Nice to meet you all.” Randall looked back to
Sarah and I. “This is a fine family you have here. No sense in
staying in the garage. Why don’t y’all come in the house and meet
my girls?”

The Fisher family had five members total. Jenn,
Randall’s wife, welcomed us warmly. She seemed happy to have guests
and started altering their dinner plans to accommodate for us. They
had three daughters: Allison was thirteen, Brittany was eight, and
Courtney was five. Randall jokingly referred to them as their
‘A-B-C’s’. It was a blessing to have found a safe haven with kids
that were the same ages as ours.

Every window had a thick blanket pinned over it.
Randall explained that they insulated enough to keep things looking
dark from the outside while blocking sound for their low profile.
He proudly showed me his mechanism to secure the windows without
rendering them permanently useless. He had installed heavy storm
shutters that locked from the inside with dual slide bolts.
Two-by-four studs were bolted horizontally to the inner frame of
each window. A rod extended from each shutter half that, when
closed, connected with the stud, held into place with a pin dropped
into a hole at the joining point. Even though he had to remove the
glass from the window to implement his plan, the design was quite
genius; it allowed the windows to have the strength of being
boarded up while still able to open.

I gave Jenn and Randall a very brief synopsis of
what had brought us to their door. It seemed like a wise move to
stress that we really had an end point that
wasn’t
their
home. After we all got acquainted in their living room around a
space heater the kids asked to go play. Calise and Maddox looked at
me to see if it was all right.

“You think it’s alright for them to go have some
fun?” I asked Sarah.

She smiled. “It’s fine if Mr. and Mrs. Fisher
don’t mind.”

“Be nice girls….” Jenn called from the kitchen.
”Dinner is in an hour. You’ve got time to show Maddox and Calise
where they can put their things. B, help Maddox get set up in your
room. C, I’m sure Calise would like to see your kitties.” Calise’s
eyes lit up upon hearing that the little girl apparently had a
similar love. The kids hustled upstairs. Allison, or ‘A’ as she was
nicknamed, picked up a book that I assumed she had placed down when
we arrived then quietly walked upstairs.

Sarah gave me a kiss then went into the kitchen
where Jenn was working. Randall and I sat in uncomfortable silence.
Sitting on a couch without a coat on felt weird when it should have
felt normal.

“I have to ask,” I said.

“Let me guess,” Randall chuckled. “How do we
have power?”

“Back in Richmond we lost power weeks ago. I
didn’t hear a generator when we pulled up. You have some lights,
heaters, cooking ability… I’d expect to hear a generator running
with all that.”

“Alternative energy,” he said with a smug smile.
“You drink scotch?” He got up and moved towards a bar near the
kitchen entrance. After inspecting a pair of tulip-shaped glasses
he carefully transferred an inch of liquid from an amber bottle
into both.

“Interesting.... solar?”

He passed me one of the glasses. “That and wind.
It’s what I did before the virus hit. I designed efficient
implementation systems for solar and wind power for private or
commercial use. It keeps us comfortable. There are solar panels on
the roof and a few large panels are mounted around the property. I
started work on a wind turbine. Bummer that I never finished
it.”

“Perks of the job, eh?”

Randall had a major advantage over most
survivors out there. Independent power with a flair for innovation
would likely see them through this nightmare.

“Never thought they would be used in these
circumstances. You gotta make the best of it though, right? We
limit how many lights are on at once. Always thinking of new ways
to conserve power, being smart with what we’ve got. There are so
many damned blankets over the windows most of the time that the
heat that comes from a handful of ceramic space heaters on low
keeps the house livable. Most of the battery banks which build up
with the shitty sunlight we’ve been getting go to cooking meals or
the hot water heater.”

My jaw dropped with that last part. “You still
have hot water?”

He let out a hearty laugh. “Mmm hmm. Drilled the
well five years ago when we built the house. I rigged a solar panel
specifically for the pump. There should be enough in the heater
tank for the four of you to get a hot, or at least warm, shower.” I
was shocked and Randall ate every moment of it up. He swirled his
glass, taking in the malty aroma then rose it towards me. “Here’s
to surviving.”

Scotch cleared my airways with a single sip.
Jenn and Sarah were chatting in the kitchen. I couldn’t hear what
they were saying but it sounded like they were getting along just
fine. Not a sound came from the second level where the kids were. I
took that as indication that they were getting along also. This
time was good for them since they’ve only had each other to play
with since this all began.

Sarah walked into the room. “Food’s about ready,
gentlemen.”

“Hun,” Jenn said from the bottom of the stairs,
“there won’t be room for all of us at the dining room table. I
figure we can set up the folding table in A’s room for the young
ones to enjoy themselves. That alright?”

Randall agreed by tipping his glass towards her.
These accommodations felt like too good to be true and it bothered
me to think we were exploiting their kindness.

“I’m sorry for imposing, Jenn. You all have done
so much for us already that we really don’t need you to go to any
trouble.”

“Trouble? What trouble?!” She smiled genuinely
as she spoke. “When C saw your daughter she looked happier than she
has in a month. And the way B looks at that handsome boy of yours
is sweet; she flutters her eyelashes like she’s starting a
schoolyard crush.” She jogged up the stairs to rally the kids.
Sarah walked past holding a platter of cooked chicken breast that
left a trail of steam in her wake.

“Nathan, listen…” Randall’s friendly tone
shifted back to the stoic monotony we saw outside. “I’m happy to
have you all tonight, really, I am. It’s good for the girls; they
needed a break from just each other and me. You’re a good man. I
can see that. Sounds like you’ve carried your family through some
bad situations. Sharing my house with you is the least I can do
because with all the death and all of the killing that’s happened,
it’s good to know that I can still do something for the living.
There’s not enough of that in the world anymore so it goes a long
way. Tonight I want you and your family to be comfortable, eat,
drink and enjoy yourselves… but come sunrise, our deal still
stands. Is that clear?”

I took a swig of the expensive beverage, my
voice scratched from its potency. “I haven’t forgotten the deal, I
assure you.”

Dinner was good enough to be the last meal on
death row. We hadn’t enjoyed a hot meal with that much substance
since the final night before I left for work. The adults ate
downstairs. We chatted about life before the undead, our kids, our
families. No one seemed to be willing to bring up anything beyond
the night everything went to hell. The present circumstances became
a guarded topic that we wanted to stay far away from. It was like
all four of us were desperate to pretend like things were normal
again.

Upstairs, the kids got along well. They devoured
every crumb on their plates then went back to playing in pairs. I
excused myself to use the restroom and check on them. I found
Courtney introducing Calise to her personal stuffed cat collection.
Calise sat with her legs crossed and her eyes fixed on the showcase
with Van Gough and Colonel Meows-a-lot stationed at her side to
enjoy the show. It was like the two girls were copies of one
another, only with Courtney having strawberry blonde hair like her
mother.

I followed the next little girl voice to the
room across the hall. It came from Brittany who was talking up a
storm to Maddox. He sat shyly listening to the young lady that was
clearly swooning over him. The floor creaked when I tried to creep
away, and Maddox jumped up when he realized I was there.

“Hi, Daddy! Do you need help? Can I come
downstairs and help you with anything?” he said eagerly, attempting
to find a way out of this awkward predicament.

“No, Monkey,” I replied with a twisted smile,
“you have fun with Brittany. We are her guests, after all.”

Her blue eyes widened. “Your nickname is Monkey?
That’s so cute! Mine is B. Come over here, Monkey, I want you to
see these drawings I did.”

I snickered loud enough for him to hear then
headed for the stairs. Allison’s door was open, and I saw her
reading quietly in a corner chair as I passed. None of this could
be easy on the teenager. The decent age divide between her and
everyone must have made the company of a book preferable to
anything else. Can’t say that I blamed her for the choice; a good
story was easy salvation from the real world.

Jenn took the last of the dishes into the
kitchen. Randall sat at the table cleaning his assault rifle.

“Where did Sarah go?” I asked, somewhat alarmed
by her absence.

“She couldn’t wait to get into the shower,” Jenn
laughed. “Said you like to hog all the hot water so she wanted to
get to it first.”

Randall poured me another scotch. I sat across
the table and admired his disassembly that spread gun parts over a
towel. I took advantage of the chance to pick his brain for help on
the road ahead.

“The farm is past Interstate 77 outside Carroll
County,” I said. “My plan is to follow Route 58 towards the Blue
Ridge Parkway.”

“That’ll take you through Danville and
Martinsville. Danville is small enough that you should be able to
zip through without much stopping you.”

“What about Martinsville?” He responded with a
curiously evasive look. “You said Danville isn’t bad. What about
Martinsville?”

He sighed heavily, like he knew he would be the
bearer of bad news. “Martinsville is a bad spot, my friend.
Memorial Hospital was swarmed in one of the first waves of
mutation. Somewhere along the line the building caught fire. What I
heard was that the fire crews responding were easy targets for
those things. In the end the whole place went down. Before the
local news stopped airing, they encouraged people on the north end
of the city, closer to the hospital, to evacuate to the
Martinsville Speedway on the south side. That place can hold a lot
of fucking people with room for cars to park.”

“Where does Route 58 fall in line with the
hospital and speedway?” I asked, terrified of the answer.

He didn’t look at me when he responded, “Through
it. Right through the middle. Let me take a look at your map. I had
jobs scattered around the area so I might be able to come up with
another way.”

After a few minutes of consideration looking
over my map he rummaged through the drawer of a nearby desk until
locating a pink highlighter. With his finger he traced Route 58
from their house through Danville then stopped a little ways short
of Martinsville. He tapped the page with marker on the spot. “Look
for the school crossing. There’s not much else around there; you
can’t miss it.”

In a slow, calculated stroke he drew a wiggly
line that followed a series of roads below the city line almost to
the Virginia/North Carolina state line. This new course weaved
southwest across the expanse then took a few sharp turns to create
a northern ascent. At last the pink tip reunited with Route 58 on
the other side of the dangerous urban center.

“See,” Randall said, quite pleased with himself.
“I told you I’d find another way!”

I was thankful, yet still troubled for a
multitude reasons. “What do you know about the detour? Closer to
the city limits do you think it’ll be gridlocked? Some areas took
ten times as long from swerving around cars clogging the road. Even
then we were lucky to get through at all.”

“I think you should be okay. The detour is
almost entirely backcountry roads. Hell, you might get through
those faster than you would the main roads. Like I said before, I
don’t think Danville will be bad. Panic had people head south a
little earlier. Knowing what was going on in their neighboring city
had folks running the other direction. You’re driving towards the
thing they were running from, so the parking lot would be opposite
to you. Sure, there will be some traffic. If you all were headed
towards North Carolina then my answer wouldn’t be a good one.”