Flare by Jonathan Maas Page A

not destruction. Perhaps it was because there was less to be gained by being an alpha-female, but groups of women had no interest in destroying anything. They would crowd around a child not their own to coo and care for it. If someone insulted one of their group they would stand up for her but not rush to violence, and wouldn’t seek to destroy the interlocutor. They wouldn’t escalate the situation, simply defend the victim and then walk away.
    Zeke laughed to himself and considered that perhaps his trust of women was naïve, as qualified as it had been. He hadn’t had much contact with women, or even groups of men for that matter. He also knew that generalizing wasn’t a useful tool in these times. A pack of angry men could save your life and a group of seemingly friendly women could lock you out and leave you to burn in the sun. The old rules no longer applied, and there was no more sense in the world other than what he felt in the moment.
    But listening to the boys in the gymnasium talk he knew that, at this moment, this was not a safe place for him. They were young, perhaps, but had become hardened in the past month. Zeke could tell that they weren’t afraid of doing bad things to survive.
    The moon was bright and Zeke saw one of them peer out a window at him, jaw fully formed but his head too thick on a squat body, so disproportionate that Zeke wondered if the boy would ever fill out. This was a kid half-grown, and he stared at Zeke with small eyes like dull, black pearls. Zeke saw that the boy was carrying a rifle. He didn’t point the weapon at Zeke, nor did he call on Zeke to show himself. The boy just waited for Zeke to make the next move and stared at him with his small, dull eyes.
    Packs of boys don’t worry about individuals. If I was in a group of twenty he’d be on his way to tell his friends, but I’m alone, so he’s just making sure I keep my distance.
    Zeke considered the situation and then sighed, shaking his head. Whatever the circumstances that led up to this muted standoff, he felt sorry for the boy in front of him.
    This boy is protecting his group and only doing what’s natural, but this is not the way. He and his friends are spending their youth defending a gymnasium. This is not the way to survive this flare.
    The boy raised his rifle, and Zeke held up his hands to show that he was no threat.
    /***/
    Zeke made his way to an abandoned house on the outskirts of town. The roof had holes in it, but he could hide in the structure with his tent. The faucets in the house still worked, though the water that flowed out of the taps was light brown. Zeke didn’t worry because he had thought of a strategy for sterilizing water and was eager to try it out. He filled up all his empty jars that he had collected along the way and set them down in his tent, and then thought about finding something to eat outside.
    He estimated he had an hour before sunrise, so he secured the silver tent within the abandoned shelter and then vowed that he would keep the house within his eyesight while he foraged for something to eat. He made concentric circles around his site, scouring the ground for anything that might be edible.
    He had experimented with cactus during the past few days, and found that these plants were a good option. A few had apparently found a way to withstand the flare’s radiation, and though they weren’t common, they still dotted the landscape and were easy to spot from a distance. Zeke didn’t know how much nutrition they had but felt comfortable eating any cactus that he found. Cacti have spikes, so they generally don’t need to grow poison in their flesh. There’s always a price you pay when eating wild foods, but cactus makes you pay the price up front.
    Zeke found a broad, flat patch of cactus and took out his gloves and a small saw that he kept in his bag. He cut five pieces from the plant, big broad pads shaped like beaver tails. He broke off the larger needles with his knife, and made a