decomposition.
“I don't really see as we have much choice, do we?”
Though he tried to hide behind a tight-lipped mask of stoicism later that night – as the rest of us were preparing our meager supplies for an early departure – I could hear him weeping softly from the other room as he whispered prayers on his wife's behalf. I couldn't imagine what he had to be feeling and wanted nothing more than to hold this old man in my arms like a small child and allow my shoulder to absorb all of his fear and concern; I wanted to place my hand on Sadie's forehead and draw the fever out, wanted to clear her lungs of the cloudy fluids which threatened to drown her. But all I could do was visualize a beautiful, healing white light surrounding the elderly couple as I continued shoving cans of outdated vegetables into my rucksack.
We said goodbye to the farmhouse just as the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon like a giant, fiery head. Streaks of yellows and orange blazed across the thin clouds as the last of the stars grew dimmer and dimmer until they were no more.
Somehow, this brilliant display made the cold more bearable, as if the cells of my body were channeling the rays of the newborn sun and amplifying them. Not only did this process radiate warmth from within the confines of clothes and skin, but it also awakened a sense of hope. Surely, we had to be close to some sort of town; before society collapsed, everyone had to go to the store. Everyone had to go to the doctor. We would find what we needed and begin the process of nursing Sadie back to health.
Doc had fashioned a sort of stretcher out of two poles and a piece of canvass that had been pulled taut and stapled to the wood; Sadie laid on it but to the uninitiated it probably looked more like a mound of blankets and quilts than anything even vaguely resembling the human form. He and Carl had decided that they would take turns pulling the stretcher behind them, trading off whenever the weight grew too heavy for their shoulders.
Somehow all this triggered a fleeting sense of deja vu in me: the jerry-rigged stretcher, the fevered woman so desperately in need of medicine, the snow covered fields all flat and white and seeming to stretch out for infinity.... I felt as if I had been through all of this before, perhaps in another lifetime. But just as quickly as it had appeared, the sensation was gone.
Doc had volunteered for the first shift, which left Carl and I ample time to talk as the exertion of pulling the stretcher through the snow demanded the strictest concentration on Doc's part; and Watchmaker? He hadn't said a word to anyone the entire morning and instead elected to hover near his wife in silence, presumably so he could be near in case she needed him.
“I reckon there might come a time when Doc and I have to share the load.” Carl said as he handed me his pistol. “That happens and it's up to you to be point man, honey.”
The pistol felt as heavy as a brick in my hand and I remember looking at it and thinking how dark the metal looked against the blanket of snow that stretched out in all directions. I lifted it a few times, testing its weight as my stomach churned sickeningly; I chewed on my bottom lip and too a long, slow breath as I tried to keep my hands from trembling.
Carl must have noticed too but mistook my nervousness for something else.
“Yeah, I know what you're thinking. That's a helluva gun. And I won't lie. It'll kick like a mule in a bee's nest. But as long as you're expecting it, then it shouldn't be too bad.”
I glanced at Carl and decided the time had come to be totally honest with him.
“I've never actually done it.”
“Done what?”
“You know... it .”
Carl suddenly seemed as if the mounds of clothing he'd donned had doubled in weight and he tugged at his collar as he cleared his throat.
“Look,” he said slowly, “I don't know if now is really the time to be talking about that sort of thing. I can
“I don't really see as we have much choice, do we?”
Though he tried to hide behind a tight-lipped mask of stoicism later that night – as the rest of us were preparing our meager supplies for an early departure – I could hear him weeping softly from the other room as he whispered prayers on his wife's behalf. I couldn't imagine what he had to be feeling and wanted nothing more than to hold this old man in my arms like a small child and allow my shoulder to absorb all of his fear and concern; I wanted to place my hand on Sadie's forehead and draw the fever out, wanted to clear her lungs of the cloudy fluids which threatened to drown her. But all I could do was visualize a beautiful, healing white light surrounding the elderly couple as I continued shoving cans of outdated vegetables into my rucksack.
We said goodbye to the farmhouse just as the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon like a giant, fiery head. Streaks of yellows and orange blazed across the thin clouds as the last of the stars grew dimmer and dimmer until they were no more.
Somehow, this brilliant display made the cold more bearable, as if the cells of my body were channeling the rays of the newborn sun and amplifying them. Not only did this process radiate warmth from within the confines of clothes and skin, but it also awakened a sense of hope. Surely, we had to be close to some sort of town; before society collapsed, everyone had to go to the store. Everyone had to go to the doctor. We would find what we needed and begin the process of nursing Sadie back to health.
Doc had fashioned a sort of stretcher out of two poles and a piece of canvass that had been pulled taut and stapled to the wood; Sadie laid on it but to the uninitiated it probably looked more like a mound of blankets and quilts than anything even vaguely resembling the human form. He and Carl had decided that they would take turns pulling the stretcher behind them, trading off whenever the weight grew too heavy for their shoulders.
Somehow all this triggered a fleeting sense of deja vu in me: the jerry-rigged stretcher, the fevered woman so desperately in need of medicine, the snow covered fields all flat and white and seeming to stretch out for infinity.... I felt as if I had been through all of this before, perhaps in another lifetime. But just as quickly as it had appeared, the sensation was gone.
Doc had volunteered for the first shift, which left Carl and I ample time to talk as the exertion of pulling the stretcher through the snow demanded the strictest concentration on Doc's part; and Watchmaker? He hadn't said a word to anyone the entire morning and instead elected to hover near his wife in silence, presumably so he could be near in case she needed him.
“I reckon there might come a time when Doc and I have to share the load.” Carl said as he handed me his pistol. “That happens and it's up to you to be point man, honey.”
The pistol felt as heavy as a brick in my hand and I remember looking at it and thinking how dark the metal looked against the blanket of snow that stretched out in all directions. I lifted it a few times, testing its weight as my stomach churned sickeningly; I chewed on my bottom lip and too a long, slow breath as I tried to keep my hands from trembling.
Carl must have noticed too but mistook my nervousness for something else.
“Yeah, I know what you're thinking. That's a helluva gun. And I won't lie. It'll kick like a mule in a bee's nest. But as long as you're expecting it, then it shouldn't be too bad.”
I glanced at Carl and decided the time had come to be totally honest with him.
“I've never actually done it.”
“Done what?”
“You know... it .”
Carl suddenly seemed as if the mounds of clothing he'd donned had doubled in weight and he tugged at his collar as he cleared his throat.
“Look,” he said slowly, “I don't know if now is really the time to be talking about that sort of thing. I can
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