The Island - Part 2 (Fallen Earth) (15 page)

“How did it go?” Kelly asked as I approached.

I shot her a weary look. “I found two of the camps. Both are staying where they are for now. All in all, it was pretty much a wasted trip. You guys eat?”

Tyler shook his head. “Not yet. Elsie wanted to wait for you. She’s got it set up nice in there.”

I slumped down on the porch beside them and took the rifle from him. “Go ahead then. Tell her to come out and sit with me while you eat. I want to talk to her.”

“You sure?” Kelly asked. “We don’t mind waiting. It’s our watch. We’d have to wait anyway.”

After Mr. Executive and Mrs. Trophy, the concern felt nice. The truth was, I was tired. I wanted a shot of whiskey, a smoke, and some conversation with someone that didn’t start out as a confrontation. That thought almost made me reconsider. Elsie could be flat-out ornery sometimes. Still, she would appreciate the drink. I had questions for her as well.

I waved them on.

“No, it’s okay. I need to sit a while and rest up a bit before I go in. And I need to talk to her. Tell her to bring some Johnny Walker with her.”

Elsie came through the door a few minutes later carrying more than the whiskey. We had no serving platters. She used a dinner plate instead. Atop it sat iced tea and two shot glasses brimming with that sweet, amber liquid I knew would go down smooth and carry a delicious burn when it did. She sat the plate on the little table between the two rocking chairs. I climbed to my feet and joined her.

My mind had been focused on the whiskey. I ended up draining most of the iced tea first. The first sip went down in a cool wave that spread through my chest. I followed it with another and another, until the glass was nearly empty. Elsie had pulled the open pack of cigarettes from a pocket while she watched. She pulled one free, lit it, and passed the pack and lighter to me. I followed suit and leaned back in the rocker, letting the smoke and
whiskey burn their way through both exhaustion and aching muscles.

The fading light brought cooler temperatures with it. Already, stars had formed against the evening sky. Off to the east, the rising moon carved a thin arc of light on the horizon.  The voice of a single cricket ground a warbling chirp near the edge of the porch, the sound lonely and mournful. I couldn’t feel sorry for him. The cool nights might have killed his chances for love, but they’d also chased away the mosquitoes.

Behind us, muted voices and the clink of silverware against plates painted the image of a family at dinner.

“Kelly said you had no luck,” Elsie finally offered.

“The beach held hippies and fleeing executives.” I told her. “I got the impression that the first set didn’t want to make the effort to move and the second set felt it beneath them. You call the Judge?”

The ember of her cigarette flared briefly.

“Yes. It took twenty minutes to get a line through. Every time I tried, a computer told me that all circuits were busy. There’s nothing he can do. Martial law pretty much strips him of his authority,” she said, the words coming out with little puffs of smoke.  “He said a column of military vehicles from Fort Bragg pulled in not long after the ban took effect and set up operations in Morehead. Their orders are clear. People are to stay put.”

She paused for a second.

“We had a man come in today.”

I glanced up, surprised.

“Who?”

She puffed on her cigarette.

“He said his name was Gabriel. He’s older, maybe ten years older than you. He came up in a boat with a little motor on the back of it.”

She motioned toward the inside of the station.

“Joshua and Denise ran into him while they were moving your boat back to the dock.”

“Is he here, inside?”

She sipped at her whiskey before she replied. “No, he’s down by the dock. He said he’d come up tomorrow and say hello. I don’t know how much fun that will be. He seemed ornery and mean.”

I let that bit of information sink in.

“How about the radio? Any news there?”

“It gets worse by the hour,” she said in a quiet voice. “One of the commentators said that there were over
2 million active infections across the country right now and that the expected mortality rate ranges from 30 percent at the low end to as high as 60 percent.”

“Jesus,” I whispered.

She pulled on her cigarette again. “Finish up. Let’s go inside and eat. I’ll turn on the radio. It’s almost news time. Besides, I think you should rethink this standing guard business.”

I looked over at her. “How so?”

She wiped a strand of gray hair out of her eyes. “Well, we have two people and our only form of protection outside where they could easily be overwhelmed. I’d rather make the station harder to get into and keep them and the rifle inside.”

I mulled her words over in my mind. She had a point. “We’d have to board up the windows.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of shutters,” she said. “Like people used to use when the storms came--you know, so we could open them during the day and close them off at night. Think about it. Let’s go if you’re done.”

I flicked the remainder of my cigarette out into the yard, watching the burning ember etch an orange arc through the darkness.

Elsie huffed in disapproval. “I’ll fix us up a bucket with sand it in tomorrow.”

I couldn’t help but grin as I followed her inside. The old woman had a way of making people feel like naughty little children.

  A single Coleman lantern lit the inside, pouring yellow light down across the table. One of the two remaining hams sat in the middle, framed by bowls of mashed potatoes, green beans, and corn. I had no idea where she had gotten the plates and forks, and said as much.

She waved her hand. “I had Keith and Devon break into a display down at the old General Store. We actually came away with several things we can use. I noted it all on one of the lists.”

Her face brightened. “You need to look over those by the way. It’s not as bad as I originally thought. You had a lot of canned food and dry goods on that boat. That extra cooler has quite a bit of meat in it. We should be able to get by for a while if we catch some fish.”

She made for an empty chair, her voice still rattling off details.

“One thing I know for certain is that Hill William likes his coffee. You had eight pounds of the stuff on board. Between what I brought and the others had, we’re set for a couple of months if we limit ourselves to a pot or two a day. We might starve but we’ll be able to get our caffeine fix.”

I let her comment slide, filled a plate from the bowls on the table, and took a chair across from her. The taste of the food
ventured past good and into the realm of heavenly. Aside from burning it, there’s not much you can do to a spiral cut ham to make it taste bad. Beyond that, the mashed potatoes had a creamy, buttery flavor that had me thinking about seconds while I was still on my first helping. Somehow, the canned corn and beans ended up tasting like they’d just come out of a garden. Elsie was worth her weight in gold, if not for the insight she had into living on the island, then for her ability to make magic at the cook stove.

The conversation around the table had an animated feel to it. People laughed, told stories, even a few jokes.

Life was good, at least until Elsie reached over and turned on the radio.