Here We Stand (Book 2): Divided (Surviving The Evacuation) by Frank Tayell Page B

wasn’t?”
    “Think about it. It was just him and a couple of people. If the cabal was still a viable force, then where were the rest of them? No, he’s dead, Tom. I bet Farley is, too.”
    “And what if you’re wrong? What if I’m wrong?”
    “You’ll never know,” she said. “ We’ll never know. After what they did, I want justice as much as you. Knowledge that they failed is as close to it as we’re going to get. Whether you did all you could, or could have done more, it’s over. You know it, and now you have to accept it. Those children need to be protected, and whether you like it or not, that’s your job, now. More immediately,” she added, standing up, “they need to be persuaded to wash in cold water, be fed, and put to bed. You can only mourn the dead, but you can help the living. Come on.”
    Leaving the children to Kaitlin and Helena, he took on the equally unfamiliar task of making a meal. He’d never cooked much, and his solitary lifestyle meant there were few occasions when he’d had someone to cook for. Since his arrival in America, he’d always had the money to eat out. More recently, he hadn’t the time to shop, let alone learn. Opening packets and pressing switches was about his level of comfort. Fortunately, the woman who’d owned the house had a simple diet. There was little variety in her larder, and it gave him little choice in what to prepare. The freezer was full, but had defrosted. The stove was electric, and that had him hunting for a generator. It was in a garage to the side of the house, was powered by gasoline, and was empty. So were the fuel tanks of the two cars – one a lovingly restored relic, the other a poorly maintained runabout.
    He laid a fire in a room so crammed with books that calling it a library didn’t do it justice. He set a large saucepan of water to boil. Only as he was staring at the flames did he think about the water that had come out of the faucet. Another brief trip outside found a sealed well with a silent electric pump. Once the water in the pipes and storage tanks was used up, they’d have to draw it by hand.
     
    “My specialty,” he said, placing the saucepan on the table. “Pasta with red sauce.”
    “I don’t eat that,” Luke whined.
    “He means ketchup,” Soanna said. “That’s right, isn’t it? Ketchup.” She gave him a pointed stare and encouraging nod.
    “Of course,” Tom said.
    “There. See. You like ketchup,” Soanna said to Luke.
    “Doesn’t look like ketchup,” Luke said as a portion was spooned into a bowl.
    “Did you know,” Tom said, “that ketchup was originally a fish sauce.”
    “Of course it wasn’t,” Soanna said giving him another pointed look. “Don’t be silly.”
    He resolved to keep the rest of his comments aimed solely at Kaitlin and Helena. It didn’t matter; as soon as the food was put in front of the children, they tore into it.
    “Was there a lot of food in the kitchen?” Helena asked.
    “There’s pasta and rice, some canned tomatoes and vegetables. The woman lived mostly on chicken, and that was in the freezer. Of what’s left, there’s a real lack of protein, but there’s enough carbs to keep us going for a week.” He took in the children shoveling food into their mouths. “Perhaps five days.”
    “It’s a decent house,” Kaitlin said. “Lots of rooms. It’s remote.”
    “You’re thinking of staying here?” Helena asked.
    There was a sudden hush from the children as eight small pairs of eyes turned toward Kaitlin. The only sound came from Luke, who was humming tunelessly as he methodically chewed.
    “Eat your dinner,” Kaitlin said, and said nothing more until the saucepan was empty. Helena gathered the children in front of the fire to read to them from a Paddington Bear book. It was a first edition, and well-worn, as if it had been bought new and read to many successive generations of children. Kaitlin and Tom took the dirty crockery and cutlery into the