Apophis (20 page)

Despite my father’s quick temper, he hadn’t scolded or punished me.  I just remembered him soaking up a gallon of milk with a mountain of paper towels and mumbling, “No sense crying over spilled milk.”
 Maybe he recognized that it was just the two of us and we’d have to soldier on without my mom to fix things.  Now, a decade and a half later, every time I made a mistake, I was transported back to that moment of being a child and feeling like it was the end of the world because I’d wasted a gallon of milk.

Like my father, so many years ago, I was just beginning to realize that it was just the two of us now – it was just Nora and me – and we’d have to figure things out for ourselves. 

I grabbed some of the extra bark Nora had collected and made a new nest.  This time I concentrated on the task at hand and successfully got the fire going without further incident.

“That’s some trick,” Nora openly admired.  The fire snapped and popped in response.

“Next time we come across a town,” I said, stoking the fire to make sure it didn’t die on me before I could cook breakfast, “we’ll find a camping store or something that might have flint and steel so you can have your own fire starter.”   I knew it wasn’t smart to linger around towns because of potential bandits. But Nora’s smile was wide and genuine and it was all for me.

“So what’s the plan for today?” She pulled her arms through the puffy sleeves of her winter coat. “I hope it includes finding a tent.”

I looked up at the sky. “Get more distance between us and Hot Springs and closer to Eden, I suppose.”

“How do we find Eden?”  Good question.

“We’ve got the sun and I’ve got a compass, so we keep traveling west,” I noted. “Hopefully we run into a town and find a map.”

“That sounds awfully iffy.”

I couldn’t have agreed more, but what other choice did we have at this point?

“You might want to look away,” I grunted.

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to butcher this squirrel for breakfast.”

“Sq-squirrel?” she stuttered, eyes wide.

“It’s delicious.”  It really wasn’t, but we needed the protein.  “Just pretend it’s rabbit.”

“Rabbit?!”

“Oh, God,” I groaned. “Just look away.”

I pulled my hunting knife from its protective sheath and carefully sliced away at the meatiest portions of the animal’s legs, arms, and torso.  The animal was small, so it took some talent to salvage enough meat to make the kill worth it.  When I’d butchered the animal, I skewered the meat as best as I could with the two straightest, sturdiest sticks I could find.  The campfire hissed as I held the dripping meat over the crackling flames.  As I held the skewers, I wistfully dreamed of corn on the cob and watermelon. What I wouldn’t have done for a vegetable or a fresh piece of fruit.

Once I was satisfied with the look of the meat, sure that it had been cooked through, I handed Nora a stick that contained a spindly leg. She turned up her nose, looking thoroughly horrified at the prospect of eating a near-rodent for breakfast, but eventually she took the stick from me. 

I didn’t care, so I tore into the tough, gamey meat with the help of my canines, shredding through the animal’s body.  The hot juices licked the tips of my fingers.  I eagerly consumed the smoky flesh and wiped the back of my hand across my face, no doubt smearing grease across my cheeks. Even without inspecting myself in a mirror or looking at the reflective nature of an iced-over pond, I knew I was a mess – my hair matted beneath my hat, my clothing bloodied and dirty, and my skin raw from overexposure. 

Even though I couldn’t deny anymore that I was attracted to Nora, I couldn’t afford to be dainty in order to impress her. There was only survival now.

+++++

After our spartan breakfast, we packed up our things and proceeded to walk west for the rest of the day.  The sun and my compass were all we had for now, but I hoped we’d run into a little town soon so we could get a proper map and more food to supplement the few items Ryan had been able to steal for us.

We walked all day, only stopping periodically for water breaks. The landscape was becoming more mountainous, which helped regulate the temperature while we remained in the valley below. I tried to remember what they’d called it in my 8th grade earth science class.  A chinook? I couldn’t remember.

“What are we going to do about shelter tonight?” Nora asked.  Her voice nearly startled me.  She had been quiet most of the day.  I had wanted to keep her mind off of the events of the previous night – namely the death of her father – but I knew there was nothing I could do or say to her that would make a difference.
 

“Well, we’re not going to get lucky and find another cave tonight,” I noted, shifting the slight weight of my backpack from one shoulder to the other.  I hated how light it felt.  It reminded me of just how few supplies we had.  Between the two of us were two sleeping bags, a fire starter, one small animal trap, a can opener, a bottle of barely passable moonshine, an assortment of canned goods, and a few paraffin candles.

“Only you would think about getting lucky in a cave, Fargo,” Nora quipped.

“That's not what I said!” I sputtered.

“I know,” she beamed. “But I love making you squirm.”

“I guess we could build a lean-to to block out the wind,” I said, thinking out loud and trying to dismiss the butterflies in my stomach. Her seemingly innocent flirting still made me uncomfortable even now. “We’ll have to stop walking for the day earlier than usual so we have time to build it before the sun sets, but as long as we can find enough fallen wood, we’ll be fine.”

“And that’ll keep us warm enough?” Nora questioned.  Her breath made small puffs of white smoke as she spoke.

I tried to sound more confident than I felt.  “We can keep a low fire going through the night and the wall of fallen trees will block the worst of the wind gusts.  Our sleeping bags will have to do the rest.”

“If I wake up a Popsicle,” Nora snorted. “I’m coming after you.”

She started to walk again, but then abruptly stopped in her tracks. “Do you see that?” she called out.

I stopped too and peered across the horizon. “Is that a Ferris wheel?” I wondered aloud.  It looked like a mirage in the distance and for a brief moment I worried that I was starting to see things that weren’t really there.

“You see it, too,” Nora said with some relief.  She must have been wondering the same thing about herself.  She picked up her pace, not quite running, but noticeably faster than before.

“Nora!” I called after her, annoyance creeping into my voice.  She didn’t slow down, so I was forced to hurry my step, too.

Nora stopped when we were about a football field length away from what looked like a state fair.  The horizon was dotted with carnival rides – the giant Ferris wheel, a tilt ‘o whirl, bumper cars, and booths hanging with stuffed animals and games designed to not let you win.

I had gotten used to how lifeless and silent the world had become, but something about this deserted carnival creeped me out. “This is the thing nightmares are made of,” I muttered beneath my breath.

“I think it’s kind of charming,” Nora remarked.  “Like it’s frozen in time, just waiting for things to go back to the way they used to be.”

I stared up at the Ferris wheel.  Its two-person cars squeaked on their hinges as they tilted back and forth with every slight breeze.

“I don't do heights,” I announced.

For as far back as I could remember, I’d always hated heights.  In high school I had stood with my feet firmly planted on the ground while my friends all paired up and hopped into Ferris wheel cars at the country fair grounds.  I would have been content to wait it out until everyone had gotten their spin on the wheel if not for Andrea’s hand finding mine and dragging me onto a vacant car.  While she had gabbed about her disappointment that some guy she had a crush on had picked another girl to ride the Ferris wheel with, I had white-knuckled the bar sitting lightly across our laps.  Not even Andrea’s proximity had been able to ease my discomfort.

“We should get going,” I murmured, still eyeballing the Ferris wheel with contempt.

“Corndogs,” Nora muttered beside me. “Why am I suddenly craving corndogs?”

I gave her a wry smile. “You from a year ago is crying right now.”

“I know,” she laughed.  Her good mood managed to shatter my feelings of foreboding. “What’s wrong with me?”

“I guess when you’re starving even corndogs sound good,” I shrugged.

“Let’s look around,” she suggested. “Maybe there’s something here we can use.”

I hesitated.  Even when frozen in place that giant Ferris wheel was like a giant beacon to anyone within a mile radius.

“Just a quick look,” I relented despite my misgivings. “But then we really have to leave.”

She nodded crisply, aware as well of the unnecessary danger this detour put us in.  My dad never would have stopped here, I thought to myself.  But this was no longer a dictatorship with him in the lead. Nora and I were partners in this. We’d both be responsible for our bad decisions.

We passed the Midway with its rows upon rows of carnival games. Giant stuffed animals swung stiffly from their hanging places, adding a new sound to the crisp snap of stale snow under our feet. Their black beaded eyes stared blankly ahead.

Nora stopped in front of a one of those booths where you throw a softball and try to knock down milk jars filled with sand.
 She hefted a neon yellow softball in one hand, tossing it from one gloved hand to the other.

“Don't you dare throw that,” I warned her.

She smiled mischievously. “What are you gonna do to me if I do?” she taunted. She lifted her arm as if to toss the ball at the neatly stacked milk bottles.

I lunged for her and she let out a girlie shriek, immediately dropping the yellow softball.  We both tumbled to the ground, the thick snow breaking our fall.

“I wasn’t going to throw it,” she huffed.  “I'm not an idiot.”

I’m sure a part of me knew that. But another part, a bigger part, had wanted an excuse to tackle her.

Her aqua blue eyes stared up at me.  I realized I was practically on top of her, one leg thrown over midsection.  I also realized I was breathing heavy.  But after all the walking we’d done over the past few weeks it had nothing to do with exhaustion or overexertion. It had everything to do with her proximity and an unexpected emotion reflected in those expressive, wide eyes.

My head snapped up when I heard a sound I didn’t recognize. I rolled off of Nora and crouched low.
 Her eyes, which had previously mirrored something else, now looked scared.  I held a single finger up to my lips.

I wasn’t sure what my plan was, but still in my crouched position, I shuffled in the direction of the unfamiliar noise.  Nora grabbed me by the leg of my snow pants and shook her head.  I gestured with my hands that it was going to be okay and that I was just going to take a look. 

I started to slowly stand up so I could see over the half-wall of one of the carnival booths.  The wind was knocked out of me though when I found myself being tackled from behind.  Arms wrapped around my waist and when I hit the frozen ground – hard and face first – I landed on balled up fists that forced the air from my lungs.

“What’s your problem?” I hissed to the woman now on top of me.

“I had to stop you from doing something stupid,” Nora’s voice filled my right ear.

“So you decided to do something stupid instead?” I charged. 

If anyone had been lurking in the area, they certainly would have heard the noise I’d made when I face-planted.  When no one came investigating, my worry that bandits were in the area abated.

Nora rolled off of me and I pulled myself out of the snow.  I yanked off one of my gloves and gingerly pressed my fingers to the side of my face.  My right cheek was stinging where it had made contact with the solid ground.

“Did I do that?” Nora’s gloved hand moved toward my face, but I jerked away so she couldn’t touch me.

“Yeah.  Thanks for the face-wash,” I complained.  I shoved my hand back into my glove.

She frowned and looked guilty.  “I’m sorry, Sam.  I wanted to stop you from being a hero.”

I tried my jaw, opening and closing it a few times.  My lower jaw was sore, but nothing was broken and I still had all my teeth.  My face, however, was another story.  I could feel the sting of tiny cuts on the right side of my face.

“Duly noted,” I clipped. “Don’t be a hero.”

“We should stay here tonight,” Nora pronounced.

“We might not be alone.”

“Do you have a better idea?” she challenged. “It's not going to be light for much longer and we still don’t have a tent.”

I knew she was right, but that didn’t mean it was a safe option. But if we kept moving who knows what we’d find out there for shelter.

“Okay. But we have to leave as soon as it’s morning.”

Nora nodded. “Agreed. Now let’s go find some corndogs and someplace to spend the night.”