Ping - From the Apocalypse by Susan Lowry Page A

gone.
    She couldn't remember what store her mother had said she was going to be in. Sweat had beaded up along her upper lip and across her forehead as she’d scanned the long strip-mall. She stared through the windows and pressed her face against the glass trying to spot either Sarah or her mom.
    Finally she recognized the sewing machines on display, remembering that they had gone in a store like that recently . She had squeezed past a large woman who was leaving. Strangers lingered in the aisles not paying any attention to her and for the first time in her life she’d begun to tremble. She was lost and to top it off, so was Sarah.
    H ad she known at that moment that Sarah would no longer be a part of her life, she would have crawled beneath the shelf and refused to come out. But instead she went to the woman behind the counter. It seemed to take an eternity before her mother arrived in a panic accompanied by a police woman.
    Kate felt sick just thinking about it , even now. Her mother had never been the same after that — nothing was, for that matter. Kate remembered not being able to do enough to make it up to her mother. The two of them became like ships drifting far apart on a choppy sea.
    At Sarah’s memorial, when Kate had attempted to explain that her twin wasn't in heaven yet, they’d looked at her sadly, her mother weeping continually and then they’d told her to keep quiet.
    But she was able to have tea with her sister long after that — though nobody else could see Sarah in the chair beside Kate at their little table. Her mother had become horribly upset with this scenario and so Kate had told a white-lie and said that she was only talking to her imaginary friend.
     
    Sometimes, when Jack’s eyes were less guarded, they made Kate want to cry. And often, when he caught her smiling, or even laughing at him, he looked surprised and vulnerable.
    Making love almost every afternoon — sometimes again before bed, was wonderful. They played in the waves and ran along the shore, talking about the kind of future they were going to create. She felt her health slowly beginning to return.
    Their prospects were all very encouraging. There would be plenty of food for the first few years. Even if they didn’t grow a thing — of course, they planned to start a vegetable garden soon — there were dried and canned goods that would tie them over. For extra nutrients, they immediately began to sprout dried beans and grains.
    Soon they would locate a suitable place to settle, near a clean, spring-fed lake with adjacent farmland, stock up on seeds and learn to operate farm equipment. Kate made a long list of the vegetables they could grow: wheat, corn, quinoa, millet, hemp, potatoes, flax, sunflowers, soybean, lentils, chickpeas, green peas, black beans, carrots, peppers, tomatoes, lettuce, spinach, green beans, pumpkin, and squash. Then there were the fruits: apples, pears, melons, and berries.
    “ I never imagined myself as a farmer,” she whispered, cuddled in his arms on the beach one morning. “But all those fresh foods sound so good right now. We need to go berry picking again. I have a craving for pie.”
    Jack raised his brows at the idea, and then he sighed. “We have a good future ahead of us, and easier than you might think. Whatever piece of farming equipment we desire is there for us; even manufacturing, it’s all set up; we just have to get it running again. The hard part is done,” Jack assured her.
    “What about warm, running water and flush toilets?”
    “ All that too.”
    It began to feel like an extended vacation and then a honeymoon. Even her secret times with the boy and Ping came with less effort. The clarity was improving too.
    But t he child needed her — he no longer hid that fact. Kate could tell he was getting desperate to be found. With his fear and loneliness so obviously worse and his physical state beginning to decline again, Kate worked constantly to improve her telepathic skills,