Containment (17 page)

The amazing thing, though, was that after the people had left, the peace had returned. The once quiet streets were quiet again, even more so than before. The flowers continued to grow, as did the grass. There were children’s toys, Big Wheels and bicycles, scattered in several yards but no laughing, screaming children to ride them. Yard swings, if gently nudged by a breeze, still swung but there was no resting gardener to enjoy them.

As the two-car caravan made its way through the neighborhood, there wasn’t a voice to be heard from any of the survivors therein. To most of them, speaking seemed as irreverent as skipping through a cemetery. They watched each passing house and wondered about its past occupants. Had they made it out alive?

For Neil, seeing the absence of any human life in such a uniquely human setting was more than a little disturbing. None of the movies he had seen that depicted such events came remotely close to delivering on the intense sense of loss that he was feeling. He brought the van to a rolling stop for no reason other than the fact that he was feeling so overwhelmed.

No one in the van spoke for several seconds. They just looked out at the abandoned houses and the empty lawns, much as Neil was doing. Meghan placed her hand on Neil’s shoulder and massaged his tense muscles slightly. He barely acknowledged it.

Claire whispered, “Are we all that’s left? Is everyone else really...?”

Jerry finished her thought when she trailed off, “Dead?”

Without a hint of humor, she continued, “Well kind of, anyway. There aren’t even any of those things. It’s just so...”

Dr. Caldwell stepped in this time and said, “Eerily peaceful.”

“Yeah.”

The radio connecting them to Maggie’s car chirped loudly, startling all of them. “Why are we stopping?”

Neil lifted the radio to respond but set it down without saying a word instead. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw Maggie with her hands raised and her shoulders hunched. He wanted to point out how annoying he found her, but decided against saying anything. There was already enough doubt circling Maggie, much of it his own, and he didn’t need to add to it. Dissension in their ranks wouldn’t serve any useful purpose for any of them. Besides, the tension in the air was all but palpable since Kim’s death. It was obvious Claire, Emma, and Meghan had more or less made up their minds that Art was at least indirectly responsible for losing her. It was also apparent that Claire was not completely forthcoming in her reservations about Art. Neil wasn’t entirely sure what she was hiding or why, but he could see in her disposition the vague outlines of a buried secret.

Jerry had maintained his silence. Neil could see that there was more going on with Jerry than before as well. He was infatuated with Claire and that was setting the young man off balance a bit. So now he and Jerry shared something in common; both were finding themselves falling in love at a most inopportune time. Nothing like falling in love on the verge of the end of existence.

Neil was finding himself relying more and more on Jerry. The kid was smart, despite what he would have everyone believe about himself. He was also very resourceful, having been able to make do and even thrive under the current conditions. What Neil liked about him most, though, was that he could count on Jerry to always be there. It probably didn’t hurt that Jerry had saved Neil’s life while they were still hiding in the house in South Anchorage. Jerry had become quite adept at using the hunting rifle. His cool-headed attitude and sure shot aim made Jerry a very capable sniper.

Neil was as thankful for Dr. Caldwell as he was for Jerry. The doctor brought a level of calm to most decisions and discussions. Dr. Caldwell was older than the rest of them in the van and had experiences and training that helped him maintain his cool under most circumstances. The doctor had shared that he was a war veteran, having served in Iraq in a medical unit during the height of the most recent Middle Eastern conflict. He also related that the events of the past several weeks were responsible for his dismissing most of what he thought he knew about medicine, physiology, and trauma care. Nothing like having the dead rising to shake your unshakable faith in science. Was this what it was like for the all powerful clergy when the scientists of the Enlightenment began to introduce physical laws based upon science to explain the universe, thus debunking an eternity of natural phenomenon being attributed to gods of various stripes? He could understand why they reacted so coldly and sometimes lethally to such suggestions. It had to be disheartening to contemplate the possibility that all or most of what you had learned was now in doubt.

Of course, none of the doctor’s combat experiences really prepared him for the terror that had virtually wiped out Anchorage either, but then there wasn’t training that could have done that anyway. Maggie and possibly Malachi might argue that receiving training at church in the Lord’s Word is the only training that could prepare someone for what was happening, but Neil was a little skeptical about the nature of that training and for what one might be prepared. He wasn’t certain if Maggie was an End of Days believer or some kind of apocalypse seeker, but her brand of Christianity didn’t seem helpful or healthy to Neil. He hoped that perhaps the doctor might still retain some of his combat skills training and be able to pass it along to the rest of them. That was training that would hopefully benefit all of them. Malachi’s peace officer training with firearms and other self-defense techniques would be useful as well, but Neil was more than a little suspicious of Mal’s capability in imparting any of that knowledge on anyone.

All of this was running through his head when he heard little Jules in the back say, “Maybe he can help us.”

Meghan asked her, “Who sweetie?”

“That man over there walking his dog.”

All of the adults looked back at her and said, “What?”

“There. Look.” She pointed down the road at an old man who was walking along the sidewalk. He had a dog on a leash in front of him that was sniffing at fences and bushes along their route. They conducted themselves as if it was just a Sunday morning and they were out for their daily constitutional.

Confused, Neil looked all around the houses of this section of the neighborhood. He had never felt more like he was somehow caught up in an extended and disorienting nightmare in his life. Could this be real?

Meghan nudged him from behind, “Go check it out.”

Still dumbfounded, Neil sputtered, “But, but...” and turned the van toward the old man.

The dog walker stalled and waited as the unknown vehicle strode up next to him. His hair was as white as fresh snow while the thin beard on his face was a slight mixture of salt and pepper, with the salt definitely imposing itself over the darker patches of pepper. He looked over at the eager faces looking at him from inside the van. He revealed neither relief nor caution with his expression. Neil thought to himself that this guy is probably a hell of a Poker player.

Dr. Caldwell lowered his window, smiled, and said amiably, “Afternoon.”

The old man smiled back. “Afternoon.”

There was a pregnant pause filled with questions and confusion for all of them. The old man, still smiling, said, “There aren’t many of those things around anymore, but staying in one spot for too long still isn’t a very good idea. You folks want to come back to my house for a little respite? I don’t have much but I’m willing to share.”

Still caught up on the old man’s nonchalant attitude despite what had happened and was still happening in the city, Dr. Caldwell was at a loss for words.

Meghan decided to step in. “We’ve got food and water and other supplies too. But your house sounds wonderful. Is it safe?”

“I’m standing here ain’t I?”

“Good point,” she said, smiling and nodding.

Dr. Caldwell asked, “You want a ride?”

“Thanks, but no. Moe and I need to finish our walk first. We can meet you at the corner of Eleventh and P, if you can wait for us.”

Back at his house, the old man introduced himself as Mr. Truman Holton, “but please call me Charles.”

Claire asked, “Oh, is that your middle name? My dad didn’t like his first name so he always went by his middle name. Most of his friends went his whole life without knowing that they were calling him by that instead of his real name.”

“No, my wife, when we first met, decided that I looked much more like a Charles than a Truman. To her Charles seemed just as dignified but less stodgy than Truman and it just took. I’ve been Charles for more than sixty years.”

“Oh.”

Emma clarified, “And your dog’s name is Moe?”

“Actually, he’s my wife’s dog and his name is Mowgli but we’ve always called him Moe.”

Dr. Caldwell took his turn to ask, “And your wife, is she here somewhere?”

Before answering, Charles suggested they go downstairs to talk. He said, again, that he hadn’t seen those things around much, but that there was no point in inviting disaster.

The basement was as big or bigger than the upstairs. There was a large sitting room with a pair of couches and a plush, well-used recliner. A hallway leading away from that main room revealed at least three doors, one of which was open to a lavatory complete with a shower. The other two doors were closed, but it was surmised that one was likely a utility/laundry room and that the other could be a storage room or possibly a spare bedroom. In one corner of the main room was a small kitchenette complete with a deep freeze that hummed as if it was working.

Charles seated himself in the recliner as if it was his throne and Moe, a trusted thane, plopped himself on the floor to Charles’ right.

Dr. Caldwell, sitting on one of the couches, asked, “About your wife? Sorry to pry? I’m just curious if there are others still alive.”

“No no no. I understand completely. Moe and I lost Lucy to lung cancer three years ago. Didn’t we boy?”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, it was the damnedest thing. Woman never touched a cigarette, she rarely drank especially lately, and she was a hell of a lot more active than me. And she’s the one who gets the big C. I guess there’s just no telling for sure what fate has in store for us until it’s already sprung. People have said that God has a strange sense of humor about things. I always wondered if her death was the punch line to some cruel joke or was it still coming. Well, I did wonder and all this happened. It’s probably just as well anyway, Lucy wouldn’t have liked this at all. She would have reminded me at least that this is why we should have moved south when we had the chance.”

To Moe he said, as he rubbed the top of his head, “Mama wouldn’t have liked this at all would she boy?”

The dog lifted his head into the massaging touch and opened his mouth in satisfaction. Mowgli was obviously not a young dog but it was also apparent that he wasn’t a senior either. He appeared to be a well-behaved adult with more than a little Australian Shepherd in him. He was primarily black with a white patch on his chest, some white on his face around his eyes and one of his ears, and then some scattered brown patches on the lower third of his legs.

Jules, who was on the floor, said, “He’s named Mowgli just like the little boy in
The Jungle Book
?”

“That’s right. My wife loved Disney and named everything with Disney names. She even named our car Thumper because it kind of clicked and thumped when we drove it.”

Jules smiled. “My favorite is
Beauty and the Beast
.”

“Our vacuum is named Beast. It’s a big, heavy, loud Kirby. And upstairs, in the front window, is a big Peace Lily that’s named Belle.”

Jules eyes lit up and she smiled. This was the most alert anyone had seen her in days. She stood up and walked around the room, eyeing all the different items and trying to guess what name could possibly be assigned to each. Her steps and pace were reminiscent of one of Disney’s many princesses as she glided from place to place humming a quiet tune to herself.

Charles watched her for a moment or two and then stood himself. “I might have something that you’d be interested in,” he announced, and then he disappeared down the hall and went into one of the closed doors. Moe stood and walked over to the hallway too, though he stopped short of walking into the room as well.

When Charles re-emerged, he was carrying a golden satin princess dress with sparkling sashes and glittery, puffy sleeves. “I think this is just about your size if I’m not mistaken. This was a favorite of our granddaughters but they’re all too big for it now. What do you think? Would you like to try it on for size?”

Jules was speechless. She had never seen anything so beautiful in all her life. It was even prettier than the ornate wedding dress her cousin had worn in the only wedding that she had ever attended. She nodded her head enthusiastically.

A little later, with Jules spinning and dancing around the room like a euphoric princess, the talk returned to Charles’ survival to date.

Charles looked at all of them and began, “Moe and I have a routine. He likes to be walked in the morning and then evening so that’s what we have always done. We tended to go out before everyone else was up and moving about because it was just easier; less distractions for old Moe. We get up, get dressed, and walk ourselves around the neighborhood. He relieves himself and I get some exercise. Doctor’s orders.