White Out: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (8 page)

Edgar returned that smile with one of his own. 

Time to feel like men again
, thought Christian.

Chapter Four

“You ever hear about all those bodies on Mount Everest?” asked Edgar.

             
Paulie would be waking up any minute now. He’d been asleep for more than two hours. Christian couldn’t remember the last time that Paulie had slept more than that. Of course, they were fully burnt out by the day’s, hell, the week’s, activities.

             
Christian needed to sober up a bit, but so did Edgar, judging by the cock-eyed sway that he gave when he spoke. He still clutched the bottle, handing it off to Christian every few swigs. The man was letting loose, but it was a little too loose for comfort. “Maybe you should take a little nap. It would do you some good after all you’ve been through.”

             
Edgar looked right through Christian, as if he was transparent and speaking a foreign language. “I asked a question, my friend. You ever heard about all them bodies on Everest?”

             
“Sure,” Christian replied, giving in a bit more than he would have liked. In the spring, there was a feature on National Public Radio about the camps around the base of Mount Everest. Quite often, those of a privileged background would show up, buying up sherpas and equipment, but once they got a bit higher than Camp Two, they’d disintegrate into madness. Some would retreat, but once in a while, they would press on, convinced that they were omnipotent. One famous corpse went by the name of “Greenboots” and was considered a living landmark, not to mention a reminder of how nasty the mountain can be in the dead of winter. Funny, thought Christian, that the entire world felt like it had turned to Everest now. It used to be that thrill hunters would go scouting for such dangers, and now those dangers were kicking in Middle Class America’s back door, asking for a hug and a kiss.

             
“They got bodies everywhere. A lot of ‘em are covered in snow, but some of them bastards are just right there, right out in the open. Can you imagine that?” asked Edgar. Christian detected a hint of change in Edgar’s voice, though that was pretty typical with somebody when they drank a full pint of bourbon. He didn’t think that his strange visitor had a drinking problem—not in the least—but a brush with death did that to a man, made him loosen his mind a bit as he sought to get a grip on reality. He resigned to giving Edgar his moment of shit-show, as long as he didn’t bother Paulie when he woke up.

             
“That’s crazy,” Christian said flatly.

             
Edgar’s eyes got big. “Bet your ass it is. You think things are gonna get like that out there?” he asked now, pointing towards the lightless, buried window.

             
“I don’t think so,” Christian said, not fully convinced by his own tone.

             
“I reckon it will, Chrissy boy!”

             
The stare that Edgar delivered next was unprecedented. In all his life, Christian could never remember feeling so damned uncomfortable, shifting back in his chair as though he might fall out of it at any moment.

             
Christian’s eyes remained fixed on the fire, and on Paulie. When the stare coming from Edgar became unbearable, that was when the snoring kicked into high gear and the bottle of booze dropped to the floor.

             
The Poor guy was hammered off his ass and ready to sleep a spell, and who could blame him?

             
Edgar’s snore was something of a roar, echoing through the living room.

             
Christian breathed deeply, relieved.

             
“Daddah?” Paulie asked. Christian looked down at him, smiling at the beautiful boy that was warming himself by the fire. “Eggah sleepin’?”

             
“Yeah, kid. He’s sleeping pretty good. What do you say we let him rest? He’s had a rough day.” With that, they scurried upstairs, curled up under the blankets with one of their flashlights, and read a book called “The Cranky Bear.” Paulie laughed at the story every time, especially when the aforementioned cranky bear woke up, angered to find that he’d been messed with.

*  *  *

Edgar yawned. He’d taken quite a nap, for almost three full hours.

              Now that he’d removed his outer layers, Paulie could see a lot of blood seeping through his undershirt. “You huwt?” he asked Edgar.

             
“Don’t mind that. I spilled some jelly on me before I came to stay with you and your pop.”

             
“Stawbewwy?”

             
“Nope,” Edgar replied, “Raspberry. That sound good?” Paulie nodded. Yes, that sounded fantastic. He hadn’t eaten any peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in a long time, not since his Mama was still at home.

             
His stomach growled at the thought of a sandwich like his mother used to make, with the crust cut off and everything.

Paulie led
him into the basement, keeping one step ahead of the man. He seemed like a tough sort of fellow, much more so than his Daddy. Paulie couldn’t remember ever meeting anybody like Edgar. He only knew friends of his parents and family members, but none of them was anything like Edgar. That wasn’t such a bad thing, so Paulie decided.

Edgar wore
cool looking cowboy boots, so Paulie couldn't help but ask a hundred questions about them. His father always said that it was rude to ask a lot of questions when you're talking to adults, but Edgar seemed pretty excited about his boots. He said they were his
special
boots, and that he couldn't ever think of being without them.

When they reached the bottom of the staircase, Paulie put up his hand to Edgar, indicating that he should stop where he was, just a couple of steps higher
on the filthy old staircase. That way he could get a good look at the boots. There was a fancy design on the sides of them, with a horse and a guy riding that horse. It was hard to see it without squinting his eyes, but Paulie could make out the shape enough to know it was definitely a horse. He’d never been on a horse, but his father promised to take him riding one day. That day might never happen if it didn’t stop snowing.

"
You takin’ a shine to my boots. That there’s a stallion, little man. In the old days, a stallion meant something important to the men of the world. It was a symbol. You know what a symbol is?" Edgar asked, looking down at the boy. When Edgar smiled, his teeth looked like they didn’t really line up right, like he had too many of them.

Paulie shook his head, still scrutinizing the design on Edgar's boots,
trying to imagine what kind of place would sell boots like that. They definitely couldn’t be found in the stores that Mama and Daddah went to. The clothes they sold at those places were boring. Edgar was probably the least boring person Paulie had ever encountered.

"A symbol is something that means something else. Like a stallion is a symbol for a tough guy, like me.
There's lots ‘a other symbols in the world. Like a rainbow means gay folks." Paulie had no idea what
gay-faulks
were. "The cross," he said, pulling a thin brown necklace from inside of his shirt. It had two wooden sticks that were crossed in the middle, "The cross stands for Jesus Christ, and how he died for us. There be symbols like these everywhere, kid. You just gotta look real fuckin' close."

Paulie knew
that
word.

Dadd
ah used it once when he slammed the big hammer against his thumb, while he was fixing his mother’s wobbly dresser drawers. That wasn't a good word, but it was okay because Edgar was a nice guy. His father said that sometimes adults used that word, even though it was bad, and it didn’t necessarily make them bad guys.

"Are you a
scallion
?" Paulie asked, knowing that he messed up the word. Edgar half grinned at this, once again showing his silly looking teeth. The big man in the big boots knew that Paulie had messed up the word as well.

"You bet I'm a stallion. Stallion is
a kind of horse, but much tougher. A stallion can survive, no matter what the hell happens around him. A stallion stomps hard and runs harder. Shit, kid, a stallion is standin’ right in front of you. Hells bells."

Those sounded like
more words that his mother had warned him about. Paulie asked, “Daddah a
scallion
?”

Edgar exhaled through his nose, looking past Paulie. "Where did you say your pop kept those
fancy rich-boy logs at, anyway? It's getting mighty nippy in here. I already froze to death once out there." He came down from the stairs, passed Paulie, and patted him on the head. Edgar smelled just like his boots. Or maybe the boots just smelled like him.

"In here," Paulie said, leading Edgar across the messy basement. He'd been
really bad about leaving his toys out since his mother was away. She was always on his back about putting everything in its proper place when the day was through (she would sing this song called “Clean Up, Clean Up, Everybody Do Your Share”), but his father didn't follow that rule the same as she did. That was okay, because putting stuff away at the end of the day didn't make a whole of sense, especially if Paulie was going to pull it all out again after breakfast the next day.

Paulie reached the door, turning the knob and looking back at Edgar. Edgar looked v
ery happy when the door opened. He looked like he might start laughing at any second, and that would be okay because Paulie hadn’t laughed in a long time. Paulie loved to laugh.

"Would
n’t ya’ look at that shit? He must have a couple hundred logs in here," Edgar said, rubbing his hands together, sort of hopping from toe to toe like he was standing on hot coals.

"Daddah
says be
puhpart
."

"
I think you mean prepared," Edgar corrected him. He looked at Paulie like his eyeballs might pop right out of his head, like he was some kind of crazy cartoon character.

Paulie repeated
after Edgar, focusing on the way he said the word, "
Puh-parrred
."

"Your Daddy ain't prepared for me," Edgar said.

“Food too,” said Paulie.

Edgar looked down at
him again, his eyes turning bigger than the moon. Now that Paulie thought about it more, it reminded him of the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood. That was the way the wolf looked when it was waiting for Riding Hood, sitting in her grandma's bed dressed in a nightgown, licking his chops as he waited for his trick to pay off. Paulie never looked at that storybook because it scared him too much. That and the one with the little kids lost in the woods by themselves, the ones that are taken by a witch until they throw her in the fire. Paulie couldn’t help thinking about those mean stories lately.

"
Yes, m’boy. Show me that food. If it's half as impressive as that there stack of logs, I'll be sticking around here awhile. I reckon you and I will get to know each other real good."

Paulie liked the sound of that. Edgar was a
really nice guy, and he talked real interesting too. Not to mention those fancy boots he wore.

Edgar, after all, was a
scallion
.

Chapter Five

Paulie looked out the window, longing for the wonderful springtime his father had promised him. He could remember what it was like… only a few months ago before the cold had invaded. There was an absence in his life, of being outside, taking in fresh air and enjoying the warmth of the sun. He would always wake up on sunny days, working in the garden with his father, digging for worms, and he would tell his mother, "It's
bee-ute-tee-ful
outside, Mammah!" She would laugh when he said that. He missed his mother's infectious laugh, even more than the way she tickled him and nuzzled him when the scary monsters crept around the world of his dreams.

The world
seemed different in those days. The world was changing, no matter what his father would admit.

It's just a little snow, kiddo. It'll let up any day now. Once it starts to melt, you'll forget all about this. Once your mom gets back, it'll be like none of this ever happened. The world isn't ending, no matter what th
ose cuckoo birds said on the radio.

The man on the radio said something about
the
a-pok-a-lips
. Paulie still couldn't decipher what that actually meant, but it seemed pretty bad. The guy's voice was all shaky and gravelly, like he was scared of some kind of ghoul that lived in the closet. He said that all the people were going crazy, fighting over heating oil and food and all the things that people needed to survive. The guy on the radio had scared the heck out of him, even more than the dream-monsters.

When his father found him listening to the radio, he snatched it away, unplugging it and hiding it away at the top of the bathroom closet. Paulie loved to listen to the radio, so he was pretty cross at the time, but now that
their electricity was gone, it didn't matter much anymore. They had plenty of batteries stashed in the basement, but his father said they needed to conserve those in case things got worse.

Paulie had asked
what
worse
meant.

Don
't worry about it. I didn't mean that. Things won't get worse. I promise you.

His father never answered questions like Paulie hoped he would.

What’s worse?
Paulie asked a second time.

Daddies were always full of promises, but Paulie supposed that went with the job. Not everybody had good fathers, and his mom had assured him that his father was better than most.

As he stared at the pretty crystals hanging from the roof, Paulie wondered where all the mailmen had gone. It was bad enough outside that even the mailmen were scared to go out now. Paulie imagined their mailman (a chuckling man with a long black mustache who called himself Skipper) walking around with their letters, chasing them down as they blew out of his hands from the wind. And when the letters were scattered on the ground, he'd have to go after them in snow that went all the way up to his tummy, not to mention that the letters were mostly white, so they would blend in with the snow. Like those silly lizards called
kuh-mee-lee-ons
. Poor Skipper, he might catch a cold hunting down all those letters. Paulie laughed out loud at this image. His imagination was pretty goofy at times.

Paulie gathered up some of his action figures and his bright red fire truck,
and then walked to the stairs to visit Eggah and his father. He really wanted to get a better look at Edgar's boots again. He wondered if his father would wear boots like that if he got his mother to buy him some for Christmas next year. It would be an amazing Christmas present, if his mother helped him find some. Or maybe, if he had enough money in his piggy bank, Eggah would sell them to Paulie. He seemed like a nice guy who might do something like that, but he was also pretty in love with those cool boots.

Placing his truck on the floor at the top of the stairs, Paulie turned back towards his bedroom, ready to pop open the little plastic
piece on the bottom of his red, white, and blue piggy bank. There probably wasn’t enough money in there, not enough to buy the boots from Eggah. After all, they seemed to be Eggah’s favorite thing. They were worth far more than the change he had. He didn’t know much about money, but he knew things like boots required the green pieces of paper, not just the shiny ones.