Children of the After: Awakening (book 1) (12 page)

Stepping into the clearing that had once been Grandma’s and
Grandpa’s yard, Jack surveyed the scene with knots in his stomach. Though he
had imagined himself prepared for the worst, expecting another pile of cinders,
ash, and rubble, in truth no one could prepare for what they found. Reaching to
Sam, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders, pulling her close as Will clung
to their legs and together all three of them took it in.

It was not the total loss that Jack had expected, but
neither was the house untouched. Though the whole of the front porch remained,
and much of the façade to the right of the front door still stood, the second
floor had collapsed entirely and the whole left side of the building was gone. It,
like everything they had seen so far, had burned, though the trees around it
seemed untouched.

Here and there charred pieces of furniture and blackened
lumber protruded out of the rubble, some of it still clinging to bits of
colored paint. The house was gone and with the discovery their memories would
always be tainted. Jack wished he could have protected Sam and Will from this,
especially after seeing the devastation of their own apartment. Now it felt as
if there were no more safe havens for them to run to. Everything they had known
had been taken. It was literally all gone. But even though both Will and Sam
were crying, Jack didn’t let himself have that luxury. He had to focus. It was
his job to look after them and keep them all safe, and he reminded himself of
why they had come.

Sure they had hoped to stay at Grandma’s, in a familiar
place, and wait for news of rescue crews, or whatever, but that was not what
had brought them here. It was the cellar that had brought them. The promise of food.
Not to mention the well out near the garden that had a hand pump. Food
and
water. The only essentials they needed to keep going. If they could load up on
supplies they had a chance to find out what had happened. They had the means to
keep moving and find someplace safe where they could stay, at least for a
while. He reached down and hugged both Sam and Will into him tightly.

“Guys, I know it sucks. But we can’t stay here like we
hoped. Maybe a day or two, but that’s it.”

“Where are we going to go?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know,” Jack admitted. “But if we can fill up our
water bottles again, and maybe find some food, we can keep going, and as long
as we keep going I know that we will find someplace safe.”

“OK, Jack,” Sam said, wiping away her tears and smearing her
makeup further.

Poor little Will tried to steel his resolve too, but Jack
could see he was struggling. He needed something to get his mind off of all
this negativity. It wasn’t good for him.

“Hey, Will. Everything looks so different with the lawn all
grown up and stuff. Think you could help me find the doors to the cellar?”

The small boy nodded, and wiping away his tears with the
back of his sleeves, he released their legs, turning to look out past the
remains of the house. Then he was off, half running, half bounding through the
tall grass that for him was nearly chest level. The cellar had been an old
creation, made of field stone and mortar, separate from the actual house and
underground. Will hoped it had survived whatever had happened.

As they worked their way past the house and into what would
have been the back yard, Jack followed Will, knowing full well where the old
root cellar was, but letting his brother guide them. Looking back, Sam followed
behind, letting him blaze a trail for her through the weeds, her face a mask of
emotionlessness that made her look older for some reason. Turning back, he
watched as Will vanished into the weeds ahead.

“Found it!” Will yelled as Jack approached.

“Good job, buddy,” Jack complimented.

“Very good,” Sam added, coming up beside them.

The double doors to the cellar were old and wooden, hinged
from either side of the structure and meeting in the middle of the entryway.
Vines and weeds had begun to creep across their surface, partially camouflaging
the entrance, but it was there, and it was whole. Kicking away the weeds, Jack
cleared away any debris from the handles and found much to his disappointment,
a hindrance to his plan. There, across the handles of the cellar, looped a
short length of chain with a padlock securing it in place. The cellar was still
there, but they were going to have to work to get it open. Reaching down he
tugged on the lock and then the chain, before bracing one foot against the door
and pulling as hard as he was able. But even against his best efforts, the
doors remained secured.

“Looks like we’re gonna need something to pry these open,”
Jack said.

“Like a crowbar or something?” Will asked.

“That would work,” Jack replied. “But anything like a shovel
or metal pipe would probably work,” he added, remembering some such pipes
jutting out of the remains of the house.

“I saw some pipe!” Sam exclaimed.

“Me too,” Will said.

It didn’t take any urging. Both Sam and Will turned and
rushed off towards what was left of Grandma’s house, and Jack followed to lend
them a hand if needed. Rounding the house, they reached the corner where once
would have been the bathroom. Though the old cast iron tub could be seen down
in the crawl space filled with bits of burned wood and ash, the pipes that had
fed it still thrust out of the jumble below within easy reach from the outside
of the foundation.

Reaching the pipes, both Sam and Will each grabbed one and
Jack watched as they pulled and yanked, trying to twist the pipes this way and
that to no avail. They were going to have to work together if they wanted to
succeed.

* * * * *

Sam pushed and pulled the slick piece of once grey pipe that
was now coated in ash and some slimy substance she didn’t care to think about. Though
it refused to come free from whatever held it, each time she pushed or pulled
she could feel it shift slightly. If only she were stronger.

“Hey, guys, mind helping your weak girly sister over here?” she
asked sarcastically, playing her best damsel in distress. “It moves if you pull
on it.”

That was all it took for both boys to lend their hands and
muscles to the task. At first they all three tried pulling on the pipe, and it
did move, but only slightly. Then working together, they pushed the pipe and
watched as it leaned away from them by several inches. With what Sam felt was
proof that they were making progress, she and her brothers worked the pipe back
and forth as it moved more and more in each direction. Before long they were
moving it rapidly and then, with a snapping sound from somewhere down in the
mound of burnt memories, it broke free as they all three tumbled over backwards
in a tangled mess of arms and legs that had them all laughing at themselves.

Working to disentangle themselves they each regained their
feet, and Sam grasped the pipe and pulled it up and out of the mess below. It
wasn’t overly long, perhaps a foot taller than she. And with satisfaction in
her heart she carried it back to the cellar where her older brother accepted it,
before wedging it into the chain and beginning to pry.

For several long minutes he tried this angle and that,
moving the pipe about in search of a better point to leverage the chain, but no
matter what he tried he couldn’t manage to get it to work. The chain kept
sliding down the pipe, or the wood of the doors bowed, it seemed as if they
were destined to fail. Until Sam remembered an old movie she had seen where
prisoners used their shirts to bend the bars of their cells and escape.

“Hang on, Jack. What if you put the bar through the chain
like this?“ she said, taking the pipe from him and demonstrating. “Then we
twist it round and round until it breaks?”

“You’re a genius!” Jack said, smacking his forehead.

Jack took the free end of the pipe and together they began
twisting it until the chain became tight. Bending over, it was uncomfortable to
manage, let alone get any leverage, so Sam got down on her hands and knees,
waiting as Jack followed her lead and again they began to push round and round
as Will stood a safe distance away to avoid being hurt should something go
flying when the chain broke. But it didn’t break. Instead, the handles on
either door began to bend closer and closer together as the pipe became harder
and harder to twist and before they knew it, both Sam and Jack were panting,
having come to a complete stop, unable to twist it further.

Just when Sam was about to give up, Will jumped down beside
her and wrapped his little hands around the pipe and together all three gave a
great shove as the wood of the door began to rip. Shoving again, the bolts for
the handles began to tear free from the doors and with a final heave one handle
came free entirely with a loud crack, like the sound of a gun that echoed
through the trees around them. The door was open. Sam collapsed to her back
panting as Will stood up to look down at her with a big smile on his face.

“I knew I wasn’t too little to help.”

“No, you sure weren’t,” she smiled back at him.

Sitting up again, she watched as Jack removed the pipe and
tossed it aside before looking at her somewhat impatiently. Rising, she grasped
one door while he reached for the other and together they pulled the doors
open, letting them fall back to rest upon their hinges. Looking down into the
small stone and mortar room, Sam could not help but smile, her eyes beginning
to water slightly at the sight. There, down in the cellar, was the first place
they had seen that was completely unchanged. Shelf upon shelf sat stocked with
canned food in mason jars, and all of Grandpa’s yard tools were hung nicely
upon another wall. It was exactly as she remembered it the last time she had
been down here.

Looking across the shelves she could see the product of that
last visit. Sam let the tears flow as she witnessed the jars of jam she and her
grandma had made with help from Mom. There, down in the small confines of an
old root cellar, were the clearest memories she could recall in that moment of
her mother, the context of all her other memories having been destroyed by fire
and ashes. But this… This remained untainted, unaffected, and unchanged by
whatever had happened. Not only did they have plenty of food, but here were
shelves and shelves of stored memories. Sam sobbed loudly as Will came to hug
at her waist. Jack just looked at her with a sad smile, his own eyes blurry
with moisture.

* * * * *

Food glorious food. Will’s tummy growled. He had spent a lot
of time helping Grandpa in the garden when he visited, and as such he had been
down here lots of times. Climbing down the wide wooden steps, he ran his
fingers across the edge of the shelves, eyeing all the jars of yummy goodness
the womenfolk had made for them. That’s what Grandpa called Mom and Grandma.
Womenfolk
.
It was kind of a funny name, but Will liked it. Grandpa was funny like that. He
had told Will lots of funny things, and showed him how to do stuff that Mom had
said he was too little for. Grandpa always argued, and taught him how to do it
anyway. He missed Grandpa.

Looking at all the food, he remembered when he had asked his
grandfather why they bothered to make all this food to save in the cellar. To
which he was told that it was in case there was an emergency, or if the stores
ran out of food. Will had thought the idea of stores with no food ridiculous,
but now he saw just how smart Grandpa was. Old people might not know much about
computers or driving fast like everyone else, but they knew stuff other people
didn’t. Will was sure of that.

Shelf after shelf, Will inspected the stores of food, from
candied yams to raspberry jam and pickled venison. Not his favorite foods, he
would admit, but they looked darn good right now. Here there were beans and
there was a shelf of strawberry preserves. So far as Will could tell they could
live her for a long time. And maybe, just maybe, what Jack and Sam said was
wrong, and Mom and Dad
would
come back and find them right here. Jack
might have given up, maybe Samantha too, but not Will. No way. No how. Dad went
and saved Mom, and they would be coming back. He just knew it.

Looking up to both Jack and Sam who both stood there
watching him like some sort of manikins, Will picked up a jar of jelly and
waited to see if they would protest. No negativity forthcoming, he twisted the
top with all his might until it made a loud popping sound, and the ring and lid
both came free. Victory was his.

Without a care, Will dug his fingers down into the jar of
jelly, scooping out the yummy sweetness and scraping it off his fingers and into
his mouth. Swishing it around with his tongue, he swallowed lump after gooey
lump, unable to fight the smile that came with every single bite.

It was hours later when, with all their bellies filled, they
sought out the pump in the yard that produced water for the garden. Finding it
in working order, Will had watched as Jack pumped and pumped until finally a
trickle of rusty water began to flow. Only a few minutes later, a gush of clear
and clean water came out with every motion of the pump’s handle, and together
they worked to refill and close all of their bottles of water.

Visiting Grandpa’s pee-pee tree before going back down to
the cellar, Will heard both Sam and Jack discussing leaving, an idea he really
didn’t like.

“A day or two maybe,” Jack said. “But we can’t just stay
here, we need to go see what else is out there. Find out what happened.”

“Jack, we can’t take all of this with us. If we leave it
behind, who knows what we’ll find out there. We can’t just think that we’ll
keep finding everything we need. This could be it. We don’t know,” Sam argued.

“This can’t be it, Sam. We know there are other people.
We’ve seen other people.”