Will to Survive (9 page)

I had kept our date a few nights ago. It hadn't been my best moment, but doubling with Todd and his date had made it better. Todd always had a way of killing off silence like it was a mortal enemy, and this new girl—Ashley—was still at the point where she was infatuated with him. I told him he better treat her well because it wasn't as if there were an unlimited number of girls either inside or outside the neighborhood for him to date. As it was, she was probably better than he deserved. And I knew that from my own experience—Lori was definitely better than I deserved.

I'd taken Todd's suggestion and gotten her flowers—a little bunch of purple asters that were growing just outside the neighborhood walls. She gave me back a smile that was unbelievable. It made me think I'd have to listen to more of Todd's dating advice. Before this I always thought that doing the opposite of what he suggested had a better chance of working.

“What street are we heading to?” I asked Dr. Morgan as I brought my mind back to the present and threw the car in gear.

“Drive up to Plowshare.”

I bumped out of the driveway and we raced off. The street was completely deserted. We went by little front-yard plots that were either lush with produce or bare, having already been harvested. The final totals weren't in yet, but it looked like we'd produced far more food than was estimated. That hadn't been officially announced, but when it was there would also be an increase in daily food quotas and an increase in morale. People needed something good to think about.

We rolled onto the street, and I was going to ask which house it was, when it became obvious—there was a woman standing on the lawn of a townhouse waving for us.

“There's my nurse,” the doctor said.

I skidded to a stop.

“Good luck,” I said.

“Stick around in case I need you and your wheels.”

He jumped out and I turned off the car. I could certainly provide wheels, but I couldn't imagine what else I'd be able to offer in the way of help.

It was especially quiet out on the street, with so many people at the funeral. In a birch tree by the driveway I noticed a dark bird sitting on a low branch. I could hear its plaintive song but didn't notice any answering chirp from another bird.

I closed my eyes and drifted off for a while. Sleep often was easier in any place other than my bed. A loud, piercing scream brought me awake in a flash. I jumped out of the car and headed up to the house. There was a brief silence followed by a second scream, even louder. I decided against going any farther.

I slumped down on the front porch as the screams continued, louder and louder until … silence. Even the bird was long gone.

I held my breath, waiting, wondering what was happening. This couldn't be good, could it?

Then there was a cry—a baby's cry! It was loud and strong, and I felt a rush of joy, along with a sense of relief.

I took a couple of deep breaths. At the sound of footsteps, I struggled to my feet.

Dr. Morgan opened the door. His jacket was off and his sleeves were rolled up.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Better than okay. It's perfect. Both mother and child are doing fine. Do you want to see them?”

“Could I?”

“Come on in.”

I followed him through the townhouse and into a back room. The mother was in bed, another woman—the nurse—at her side and her newborn bundled in her arms.

“Could my friend Adam here see your baby?” Dr. Morgan asked.

She nodded and smiled. She looked exhausted yet happy. She peeled back the blanket to reveal the baby's face. The baby was wrinkled and bluish, and the head looked strange, sort of pointed.

“It's a boy,” Dr. Morgan said. “I don't imagine you've ever seen a newborn.”

“I saw Rachel and Danny when they were a couple of hours old, but that was a long time ago.”

“Would you like to hold him?” the mother asked.

I shook my head. “I'm not sure … I'm afraid I might drop him.”

“You won't. I trust you.”

She held him out, and I took the little bundle of baby and blanket into my arms. He was so small and light it was like holding air. Very valuable air.

“This is such a blessing,” Dr. Morgan said. “Not just for you, but for all of us who live here.”

I knew what he was talking about. The whole neighborhood would be happy. A previous baby had died at birth. The last thing people needed was another tragedy, especially today. This was a miracle and I was holding it in my arms.

“Have you decided on a name?” Dr. Morgan asked.

“Joseph, after his father,” the new mother said. “I just wish he could have been here.”

There were lots of reasons the father might not have been here, and none of them were good.

“Her husband was away on a business trip when the blackout started,” Dr. Morgan explained.

“I'm sure he's still trying to get back home,” I said.

Her eyes filled with tears. “I just wish I could have been there at the funeral for those guards today,” she said. “My heart goes out to anybody who has lost somebody they care about.”

“You were there in spirit,” he said.

She started to cry. “Were there lots of people there?”

“Pretty much the whole neighborhood except for the guards on the walls and the people who needed to help you have your baby,” Dr. Morgan said.

“I'm grateful for everything you did.”

“It was my pleasure. This is the best thing a doctor can be part of.”

I looked down at the baby in my arms. His eyes were tightly closed. He couldn't know anything about the world he'd come into. Someday when he was old enough his mother would tell him about how he was born on the day when we buried five brave men who died defending our neighborhood, protecting him, providing for his future. His own father wasn't here any longer to do that. And probably wasn't ever coming home. But the rest of us were here. I felt such a rush, an urge, a need to take care of this baby and make sure no harm came to him.

He started to wiggle in my arms, his legs thrashing, and he began to cry.

“Don't worry, Joseph,” I said. “We're all here to take care of you.”

Gently I handed him to his mother and the crying stopped. Somehow he knew he was safe. I had to be part of making sure that he always would be.

 

9

It felt strange to be back home after attending the mass funeral and then holding the newborn Joseph, as if I should be doing something more than simply getting ready for another date with Lori. But my mother had insisted that we all come home and spend time together—we had even sat down together at the table, listening to the twins chatter about their day, about how the harvesting was going. Now the twins were playing a board game together by candlelight at the kitchen table—something that had become a regular evening ritual for them—and my parents and Herb were in the dining room, talking.

I glanced at my watch. I was supposed to drop by Lori's place in fifteen minutes; she and I were going to go to the movie showing in the school gym. It was an old movie, one I'd seen half a dozen times and didn't even particularly like, but it was the only show around. Besides, being with her would more than compensate for what we were going to watch.

I could hear the murmur of the adults' voices, but I made a point of not listening to what they were talking about. Less information was sometimes better. I needed my mind to be more quiet.

I popped my head into the room. “I have to go,” I said.

“Just remember, you have an early flight tomorrow,” my father said. “Unless you want me to take it for you?”

“I won't be out late, but thanks.”

My mother gave me a little hug. “Just be safe.”

“We're going to a movie, not on a mission.”

“Do you want company?” Herb asked.

“On the flight?”

“On your walk.”

“Actually, I'm going to the Petersons' house, to meet Lori, and then we're off to the movie.”

Herb laughed. “So you'd rather spend time with your girlfriend than with me?”

“I guess you could go to the movie with us if you want…”

What was I saying?

To my relief, he laughed again. “How about if I walk with you for just a bit, and then I'll go off on my own?”

“Sure.”

Herb and I stepped out of the pool of lantern light that shone from our front porch and headed into the growing darkness of the night. The sun had just gone down, but there was still some light reflecting over the horizon. Soon darkness would reign, though, the way it did almost everywhere inside the walls once the sun set each day. Generators were few and far between, and most often were used for something that had an important purpose to the neighborhood—the clinic, the warehouse, the community room at the school. Even Herb and my mom didn't run their shared generator very often. It was only at the grocery store where one was running full-time, to keep the freezers working. And that wouldn't even be needed much longer, since our stock of frozen meat was down to almost nothing. Hunting and fishing expeditions were proving less and less fruitful. It wouldn't be long until we were all mostly involuntary vegetarians.

Herb scanned up and down the street. “Nice night,” he said.

“I guess. Though I could do with some light and noise and traffic.”

Herb laughed. “Do you ever think that all of this was because of you?”

“All of what?”

“This,” he said, gesturing around with both hands. “Your neighbors being safe and sound.”

“I've helped, but everyone else has, too.”

“You were the one who suggested we band together in the first place, Adam. Without your suggestion this neighborhood would have been abandoned. A lot of the people living here don't even know lives were saved by you.”

“Saved by all of us working together, maybe, but mainly it was you. My idea without your execution would have been nothing.”

“No, you have it backward. My ability to execute without your idea would have meant nothing. Regardless, we've created something special.”

It
was
special. We were an island of calm in a sea of chaos. I had no way of knowing what was happening farther away, but in the area I had been able to see from flying around, I knew that our neighborhood was a small sliver of civilization in a land where civility had been lost. Here we were surrounded by twenty-foot walls, protected by armed guards on all sides; we had food, shelter, and a layer of order and fairness. In here was safe. Beyond was uncertain. No, not uncertain—wild and dangerous and dog-eat-dog. And really, it
had
been my idea.

Herb stopped walking and faced me. “Look up.”

That rush of fear came back. Was it a plane or—no. “Stars. I see a few stars in the sky. The moon isn't even visible yet.”

“Millions of stars.”

I kept looking up, allowing my eyes to drink in the sky. The larger stars like the North Star had been visible since dusk. Now the lesser lights were glittering through the gathering darkness.

“Our neighborhood is like one of those stars, one of those pinpricks in the sky. And all around are other points of light.”

“Other neighborhoods like ours.”

“Across this country, around the world, are the other little pockets of civilization struggling to survive. You have to remember that life goes on, that humanity always tries to find its way. We're all points of light.” He paused again as if struggling for his words. “Before this all happened, it was as if our society was at high noon. Now night has fallen and the moon hasn't even come up yet. But as sure as there are stars in the sky, the sun will rise again.”

“You sound like a preacher,” I said. “You really believe it's going to happen, that we're going to recover from this?”

“I've had my doubts, and I could still be wrong, but I do believe. We humans are such an industrious breed of ants.”

“You're saying we're a bunch of bugs?”

“I don't mean it in a negative way. There's nobility in being an ant. We are insignificant on our own but powerful as a collective. We are resourceful. The only thing that we seem better at than killing each other is surviving. Somehow we'll survive. Someday we might even thrive.”

“I don't think I've heard you be this positive before.”

“Like I said, I think you're having a positive effect on me. I'm just afraid that my effect on you hasn't been so fortunate. For that I'm sorry.”

For a moment, I just looked at Herb—this wasn't sounding like him. In fact, now that I was really looking at him in the gloom, I saw pouches under his eyes. He looked even older than he had just last week. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” I said.

“I shouldn't have exposed you to so much. I should have done more to protect you, shield you from what you saw, what you experienced.”

“There was nobody else to fly the ultralight. It wasn't just that you needed me; everybody needed me. If there had been another pilot, if my father had been here, it would have been different.”

“Your father
is
here now, and he's definitely a leader I can count on,” Herb said. “And I know he'd be happy to fly more of the recon missions and give you some time off.” He paused. “What would you think about that?”

“I think you're worried I'm going to crack up the Cessna.”

“It's not the plane I'm worried about.”

“Is it just you, or are there others who are worried about me?” I asked, although I knew the answer from Todd and Lori.

“You're far more valuable than the plane. I need to know you're going to be okay, Adam. I'm not going to be here when the sun finally does rise, when civilization patches itself together.”

“You don't know that,” I said.