The Sky Grew Dark (The End of the Golden Age) (3 page)

Tears filled my eyes and I couldn’t even say anything. Deep inside, I knew all along that it was going to happen, but that didn’t make it any easier. I felt like my heart was squeezing out of my chest, looking at his helpless little body. We quietly wept together, not saying anything. I don’t think I could have formed words at that moment if I wanted to. Finally, we decided to quickly bury him, before Lisa and the boys got back.

We picked a little spot under a huge redwood tree, and marked it with a mound of branches and leaves. It was so deceivingly peaceful out here, the quiet calm of the forest belying the turmoil welling up inside. I felt like part of my heart was torn out as I laid his little body in the earth. It
wasn’t right.

As soon as they returned, Seamus began asking about the baby. He was so sweet and I didn’t even know how I could tell him what had happened. Finally, I told him that the baby went to live in Heaven, because it was too hard for him to live here. He and Gaiden were very quiet the rest of the day. Gaiden was usually the talkative one, but I think he picked up on the general mood. I don’t know if they understood, but after a little bit of time, they both seemed to handle it well.

I tried to talk to Lisa, but she wouldn’t say anything. She cried most of the day and didn’t eat anything. I was growing concerned about the general health of everybody involved. It was hard to keep up an appetite when things like this were going on, but we all needed to keep up our strength.

Grandpa returned in the evening with even less than the day before. He simply nodded when we told him about Liam, as though he had expected it. I was a bit frustrated that he didn’t respond more than that.

I decided I should go out looking for food the next day. I needed a break and I could take the two boys. After all that had happened in the last few weeks I felt like they needed a distraction, too.

The next few days passed in a fog. Ian and my dad hadn’t returned on time, Christmas passed and all our plans fell through. My mom and I had explained to Lisa and grandpa that Joey wasn’t returning, and Lisa seemed to sink deeper into her depression. Even though Joey teased her when they were children, they had grown close over the last few years. She probably felt like he abandoned her. She might even wish he had taken her with him.

I caught a few fish, and the chickens laid a few eggs between them. Grandpa had continued his foraging and gardening, and we ate a few of the young garlics one night. In spite of all that happened I tried to be optimistic. Things were looking up a little bit.

             
After a full week Dad and Ian returned.  Dad was so ill he could hardly walk, and it had taken them twice as long on the return. Ian was practically carrying him into the camp. We laid him down and got him warm. I made a soup out of some fish bones and we added herbs and roots to it. Dad was pale and coughing a lot. It was a horrible cough. Like nothing I had heard before, each time it sounded like he was choking.

Dad had always been thin, standing six feet tall he had a slender build, with salt and pepper, wavy hair. As long as I could remember he talked about the fact that he was going bald, even though I still couldn’t see a bald spot anywhere. He was cynical, and skeptic, and generally didn’t like people. He didn’t like Ian at first, but in the last few years it seemed they had grown very close.

Now he seemed strangely thin. He looked like a skeleton. His eyes were sunken in and his skin looked waxy, drawn tight against his skull. Ian didn’t seem extremely well, either, he told us that Dad had started coughing the day they left and the nights sleeping on the cold ground just seemed to make it worse. Ian had started coming down with something about halfway back, and wasn’t coughing, but seemed to be extremely wan and pale.

He almost didn’t notice two people were absent from our group. I quickly pulled him aside and explained about Joey and Liam. He didn’t respond, just continued staring with that hard look he had acquired over the last three months. He pulled me close and held me. I tried not to cry but I felt the tears coming. He stroked my hair and kissed my forehead. After a long time, he spoke. They hadn’t found anybody at the meeting place.

              Dad coughed so much we could hardly rest that night. I found some Eucalyptus and tried to cook some of the leaves to help his breathing, but it didn’t make a bit of difference. His coughing and wheezing fits got so bad he couldn’t even eat. Every breath sounded like it required extreme effort.

Every time he coughed the boys stared with wide eyes. They knew something was wrong. He never did notice Joey and Liam were gone. He didn’t respond when we asked him things, and finally, two nights later he choked and coughed for almost two hours before he finally breathed his last. He had never even spoken a word to us since his return. My mom had spent those two days in fear. She alternated between crying and staring, and after his death I grew concerned for her. The next morning I showed Ian where our little plot was, and we put my dad into the ground.

My mom didn’t speak during his burial. She stood there, quietly, not even crying. Lisa, on the other hand, was hysterical. She sobbed and wailed, talking unintelligibly. If somebody touched her or spoke to her she cowed away, renewing her crying and muttering. Oddly, I was more concerned for my mom. She barely answered when we spoke to her, and she spent the next few days doing little else besides staring.

             
After things had settled down a bit, Ian told us that he suspected the flyovers were drones. He thought they were probably just decoys to keep people in fear, so we decided to test it out. I wanted to go with him, but I was worried to leave my mom and Lisa alone. I talked with Ian loudly about wanting to go, but needing to do laundry. My mom came out of her reverie a bit and offered to do the laundry. That made me feel a bit better.

We concocted a plan to put one of our vehicles out in the open and see if it got any notice. Early the next morning, before the sun was up, we drove the car about twenty miles away from our base camp. We left the lights off and drove slowly. He pulled off the road onto a shoulder that was covered with tall redwood trees. I turned to face him. We were still a few miles away from our goal area. We sat in silence for a moment before he turned to me. He cupped my face in his hands. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the comfort and security I felt in his touch. 

He pulled my face towards his, kissing me softly, and I realized he had planned this little rendezvous. He pushed his chair back and pulled me on top of him. His kisses quickly intensified as he pulled my body against his, his hands under my shirt, racing up my naked back.

“It’s been a while.” He said, with a little smile and lifted my shirt over my head.

We continued up the coast a few more miles. After leaving the car on the side of the road, we walked about half a mile toward the coast, into the forest, and followed the road back. We were about halfway home when the flyover passed. Nothing. It was a drone. We excitedly began walking back to camp. About four hours later we heard a huge explosion. We turned back and scanned the sky, dark smoke swirling upward where we
had left the car. My stomach clenched in fear and I instantly felt nauseous.

             
Ian’s face grew dark. He explained it was still sending images to some sort of a base camp that obviously wasn’t very far away. We hurried back to camp and told the others. Just as we were explaining it, we saw another plane on the horizon. It wasn’t the right time of the day for that, so we realized we had alerted them to a nearby presence. We quickly hid, and spent the next four days very cautiously. They knew we were here, and now they were looking for us.

CHAPTER
three

Grandpa and Ian went out to forage only at night, and were having difficulty getting fish. Luckily, the rabbits were now big enough for us to start slaughtering. The first night of slaughtering, Ian vomited, but after that he got the hang of it.

              The flyovers settle down a little, but it was obvious they were still looking for us. We started going out again during the day, but we made sure we were covered at all times. The rabbit had kindled again, and things were looking up a bit. Lisa had started doing ‘school’ with the boys, and it was great because it kept all of them busy.

             
Our little cave looked like it was right out of Swiss Family Robinson. Woven baskets hung in different places, with belongings, roots, and fruits. We had constructed a decent stove top out of pieces of metal and rocks, laid over a fire. It looked like an old kiln, and even with all that was going on, spirits were high.

             
Another couple of weeks passed, and we marked the time in mid-January. Four months. Things were going great. The garden looked good, and Grandpa still planted seeds every few days. He started some carrots, broccoli, spinach and lettuce. The spinach and lettuce had sprouted right away and he said as long as the weather was good, we should enjoy them soon.

             
A few days later, Ian came running back into the camp, breathless. He broke into a coughing spell as he told us there was a group of refugees several miles away, traveling down the freeway. They were trying to hide, but there was so many of them he was sure they would be spotted by the flyover. If they sent in a patrol we would be found for certain. He decided to go back out for Grandpa, and we started moving our stuff inside. We brought in the chicken coop and a few of our small things that were sitting in the sun. We tried to make our space as inconspicuous as possible.

             
Grandpa and Ian got back. Luckily Ian had thought to fill a few water containers. They covered the entrance to the cave. Ian expected it to take the vagabonds a couple of days to get far enough away that we could resume our normal routine, if they were not caught. We ate eggs, and rabbits, slaughtering them in the back of the cave. I wasn’t sure if I would ever get used to the sound. Their high pitched whining as he slit their throats was unnatural and very disturbing.

             
Ian didn’t seem to be doing well. He was pale, and quickly thinning. I decided he should use this time that we were confined to the cave to regain some of his strength. It was hard to keep him down, though. He would rest a bit, and then start working on a way to make something better; digging new bathroom holes, exploring the caves a bit with the boys, clearing leaves and debris from the back of the cave.

We couldn’t have a fire inside the cave during all this, it was way too risky. We had one canister of propane left, which we felt we should use for light, so we began to eat the canned supplies.

Two days later my Grandpa stopped in the middle of what he was doing. He held still a moment, and then snuck to the edge of the cave. I glanced around and caught my sister’s eyes. They were huge, wide open, and filled with tears. I didn’t know if she had heard something, or what. I looked back at my Grandpa. He raised a finger to his lips and we all held incredibly still. Ian was somewhere deep in the caves with Seamus and Gaiden, and I hoped they stayed back there a while longer.

I silently moved to the edge with him, to find out what was happening. I heard something but I couldn’t distinguish what it was. After a moment, it was followed by a sound that could only be described as distant fireworks. I frowned, trying to determine what it could be when Ian came
running with the boys from the back of the cave. He had his hand over Gaiden’s mouth and both boys were crying.

Worried, I almost spoke before I remembered that we were supposed to keep quiet. Ian started mouthing stuff and pointing to his ears. I nodded. We had heard it. He made a gun with his hand. A chill ran over me. That was the first sound. It was so far away I hadn’t recognized it. It must have been some sort of rapid-firing gun.

Just then Gaiden whimpered and Ian squeezed his mouth tighter and bent to his ear. More tears spilled out of his eyes and his little body was trembling. I looked at my sister and mom. My sister was silently sobbing, but my mom still just stared. I was beginning to wonder if she knew what was going on.

My grandpa was waving again from the cave door. He did some things with his hands and arms, and finally I realized that he could hear someone running. We all stayed deathly still. After a minute Ian motioned me over to him. He wanted me to take over with Gaiden, and he made his way to the back of the cave.

I wondered where Ian was going as I quietly reassured Gaiden everything was ok. He had stopped crying and I convinced him to lay down. Ian came back with the gun. I silently prayed he wouldn’t chamber it. That much noise could bring somebody to us, especially if they knew what to look for. And our luck, he would shoot my grandpa, not the intruder.

Time passed eternally slow. It seemed as though whoever it was had gone. Ian quietly whispered to me that the other noise we had heard was a bomb. I could hardly swallow as I felt my stomach turn into an icy knot. We could have all been killed. Just like that. If they had bombed a few miles closer.

For some reason I suddenly felt more serious than I had this entire time. I guess the finality of it was so much more real. All of our wandering around outside and acting like we were on some extended camping trip came rushing back. This was real. This was serious. We needed to kick it in gear or we were going to be in trouble.

The next few days were painfully slow. The fly overs were random
and frequent. We had started going out only at night and keeping the cave closed. A couple of times my grandpa went out, but it was so dangerous he came right back. We still didn’t feel comfortable having a fire, and the last of the propane had run out. We couldn’t cook any eggs or rabbit meat without the fire, so all we were eating was canned beans and some canned vegetables.

Ian was growing worse. He was almost yellow and he had lost a considerable amount of weight. We all had, but there was something different about it. He had a strange cough, too. It wasn’t there all the time, but when a spasm came upon him it took him several minutes to recover.

After three or four days had passed he came out of the back of the cave with something. I had no idea what it was, it looked like a large woven box. He explained it was a trap for fish. He said you could put it in water and when you pulled on it, it closed up, almost like a net. I smiled at him. He had also decided that he was going to go out tonight. He was going to catch fish and try to cook some rabbit meat over a fire deep in the forest. He was going to try and hide it, and hope it couldn’t been seen from above.

I didn’t want him to go. I actually started crying as soon as he ducked out of the cave. It was so dangerous right now, and I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to him. I couldn’t sleep at all that night. We had left the cover back a little bit to let some moonlight in. I tidied up a bit, and tried to find some things to do but I ran out of energy. Not feeling a bit tired, I waited by the door of the cave.

Somewhere in the early morning hours I heard something. It was a faint rustling that seemed to be getting closer. The clouds had covered the moon, blocking its bright light. I thought about waking Grandpa, but I didn’t want to alarm him. It was probably just an animal. After a few more minutes, I heard it again. I thought for a moment that it could be Ian, but he had made it very clear that under no circumstances would he return tonight. I stayed perfectly still, hoping some wild beast hadn’t caught our trail and would soon be intruding on our hideout.

Just then, the clouds moved and light spilled down on the cold night. I saw shaggy fur. I focused for a moment and realized that it was hair. My heart beat so fast and hard I thought for sure it was audible. A
head turned and I could see it was a man. He was tall and large, with a big coat that seemed to be camouflage. Tears started filling my eyes and I silently prayed that he would continue. He seemed to be looking directly at our cave.

He stood still for a moment before continuing on. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. I sat there, my back against the hard stone wall until the morning light broke on the horizon, and I fell into an exhausted and troubled sleep.

I awoke that morning to Ian returning. He had been successful, catching a few fish and cooking some rabbit for us. He looked terrible. I hoped it was only because he hadn’t rested the night before. I ordered him to bed and fed the boys some food.

As the afternoon turned into the evening, Ian didn’t get up. I figured he just needed some extra rest so I didn’t worry about it.

The next morning he didn’t get up, either. I went to his side and tried to wake him. He was feverish and barely could awaken to speak with me. I told myself he would be fine. That he just had a touch of the flu, but I knew in my heart it wasn’t true. I couldn’t believe this was happening . I took some deep breaths and tried to tell myself to calm down. I needed to get it together.

             
The next morning his skin was sallow and slick with sweat. His breathing was weak and his heart rate was erratic and rapid. Grandpa announced he was going to look for antibiotics. He quietly told me Ian probably wouldn’t make it, but if any of us wanted to survive he needed to go now. He packed a bag and left.

             
I retreated to the interior of the cave. I sat near Ian’s side, wondering how we could possibly survive. I decided we were going to make some changes. It would be better if we kept a small fire and cooked some food than starve to death trying to stay unseen.

             
I was glad I had been watching the rabbit slaughtering. For the next week we alternated eating rabbits, and making stew from their bones. We kept a small fire in the cave, only at night, and for as little time as possible. We had started sleeping during the day, and going out at night for foraging.

             
On the five month mark, Ian passed away. It was February, just days after our anniversary. His death snapped me out of a slump. I realized I had barely been eating the last few days, only thinking about what was happening with Ian. I knew the responsibility was on me now. I needed to keep spirits high. The only thing that kept us girls motivated was the little boys. We wanted to quit, to give up, but we knew we needed to keep going.

             
It was apparent that I needed to figure out a way to provide some protein for us. I decided our best bet would be Ian’s fish trap, so I commissioned my mom to weave a net so we could catch a large number of fish and keep them in a net in the river until we were ready to eat them.

             
The flybys literally ceased within the next few days. We still worked only at night, but we kept watch on how things were going during the day and didn’t see any more signs of planes.

             
Our fish trap seemed to be working fairly effectively, and Lisa came back one day announcing that the beans had small pods on them. I couldn’t wait to eat some fresh vegetables.

             
I hadn’t told my mom or Lisa about the man I had seen that night, I didn’t want to frighten them, but I thought about him all the time. Was he just passing through, or was he hiding out near us? I tried to pay attention when I was out, but I couldn’t see any signs of someone else.

             
After another week the fish were gone and there were no more to be found. The rabbits were all gone and while there were more babies right now, it would be some weeks before we could begin slaughtering them. We could starve, kill one of the chickens, or find another source of protein. I decided that I should travel upstream and see if I could find somewhere else to fish.

             
I packed enough food and water for a day, and started out the next morning before the sun was up. I followed the river across the freeway and far inland. A couple of times I thought it might be completely gone, but it would widen again. There didn’t seem to be any spots better than the one we had already.

             
Just after noontime I stumbled upon a huge pool of water, a little bit away from the stream I was following. I had seen the sun gleam off it and followed it for a few hundred yards until I found the source. I decided to take this opportunity to wash. I could check it out and see if there were any fish while washing three months of grime off my body.

             
I tucked my clothes under a bush, leaving my bra and panties on, and swam out a little ways. I had always had an unnatural fear of rivers and lakes, and it was kicking in now. I felt the moss tickle my feet and visions of barracudas swimming made me panic. I thrashed in the water, somehow growing more fearful of the imaginary predators lurking in the dark water.

             
My toes found a rock and I tried to push off it, but I slipped and went under. I hit my knee and began flailing. I tried to get my head above water but kept swallowing instead. I didn’t think about anything but getting to shore. The fact that a plane could have spotted me, or I could have alerted anyone within three miles of my presence didn’t enter my mind. I was drowning.