Fade to Grey (Book 2): Darkness Ascending (80 page)

It was almost 10:00 PM when the first ladleful of hot
rice was dipped out of the large kettle and heaped onto Eric’s plate. He
stepped to the left and Leah dipped another large serving spoon into a pot full
of gravy. The aromatic steam drifted into his nose as she dribbled it—and then
another just like it—over his rice. Another slide to the left down the serving
table brought him to Bernice’s station, and she sliced off several thick wedges
from the venison roast.

“Hold up there,” Bernice stopped him with her words as
she added another slice to his plate. “When’s the last time you looked in the
mirror, boy?”

Eric paused as her question sunk in. “Only about half
of my scratches and bruises are from Devils Lake. The other half are from Max.”
The smile that erupted at the memory of his reunion with Max also made him
wince in pain.

“I ain’t talkin’ about your filthy mongrel. Both you
and Michelle look like sticks. You better start putting some meat on them bones
. . . both of you.”

“We’ll see what we can do, but speaking about bones .
. .?”

“I already saved it for him, though I’d rather have
used it for soup stock.”

Eric thanked her and moved slowly toward the end of
the table for the self-service cooler of water. Bernice had already laid down
the law for everybody to write their name on a plastic cup and keep up with it.
No cup equals no drink, she had said. He drained an entire glass and then
refilled it before moving out to the crowded upstairs living room. Michelle
took his plate and cup as Eric slid down the wall and positioned himself in the
space between her and Fred. When his muscles finally came to a groaning, aching
halt, Michelle shuttled his food back to his control. To his left, Fred was
scratching with a stubby pencil on the surface of an off-white artist’s tablet.
Her fingers were holding the wooden shard at an oblique angle as she shaded the
background of the picture—an amazing likeness of C.J’s wife Nancy.

“That’s really good, Fred,” Eric commented.

“It’s just a hobby, but I think it helps to keep my
mind sharp.”

He watched her fingers blur for another minute as he
sipped at the cup of water and let his food cool down to sub-lava temperatures.
She began to highlight Nancy’s eyebrows, and then used the side of her thumb to
blend the stark scratches into softer, duller hues. Another series of flicks
with the pencil brought eyelashes to life, and then she flipped the pencil over
and rubbed away tiny points in the light charcoal haze of the picture’s eyes.
The resulting bright spots gave the illusion of reflected light, and in turn,
life to the drawing. It also gave Eric an idea.

“Hey Fred, if I spent some time with you describing
someone, do you think you could draw them?”

“You mean like a police sketch artist?”

“Yeah, exactly like that.”

“I don’t know. I suppose I could try,” she answered as
she kept her focus on the drawing.

“I’d like to try . . . maybe sometime tomorrow if
you’re available.”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

He took that as a “yes” and turned towards Michelle.

“Any news?” she asked.

“He’s still unconscious. Rebecca is with him right
now, and I told her that we’d stop by after we ate.”

Michelle tilted her head to the left and laid it on
Eric’s shoulder. “Did Bernice give you the same ‘you’re too skinny’ speech?”

“Yeah, but I got an extra slice of meat with it.”

“Me too,” Michelle added with a yawn.

It took less than five minutes to clean his plate, and
then Eric sat quietly as the room around him ebbed and flowed with conversation.
Occasional pockets of laughter broke out, but for the most part everybody
seemed too tired to dedicate any additional energy to mirth. Another refill of
water was brought around in pitchers by Michelle’s mother, and then the room
settled to an exhausted silence. Sam had been seated next to Walter, and Eric
watched as he scribbled a few more notes on a piece of paper before standing.

“Evenin’ folks. For the new people,” he nodded towards
the side of the room where Estes and his group were sitting, “as well as a
reminder for everybody else, my name is Sam Ironfeather. Everybody here has had
a tough day. For most of us, it’s been a lot longer than just a day that things
have been rough, so I’ll be brief. The events of today have been both tragic,
and sadly, necessary. We were forced into a position that we did not want to be
in, but the bright side is that through a lot of good luck, good planning, good
people, and the Good Lord above, we’ve come through it relatively unscathed.
There’s a whole lot of things that will need to be discussed, decided, and done
in the near future, but for right now let me cover the basics. I understand
that everybody has a bed or chunk of floor to sleep on tonight. We’ll try and
figure out something more comfortable and permanent over the next few days.
You’ve already had the three dollar tour of the house, and we’ll try and be a
little more thorough tomorrow. For now though,” Sam pointed toward the hallway,
“down at the end of that hall on the left is a little room that we’ve got set
up to monitor some close range video cameras. We’re also in communication with
our lookout post down by the road. We should be fine for tonight, so try and
enjoy a good night’s rest. Starting tomorrow we’ll figure out the who-what-when-where
that will make our little situation here run smoother. There is one thing I’d
like you to do tonight though. It’s going to be logistically difficult to
gather everybody together each time we need to figure something out, so those
of you that are here in family or other groups, please elect one adult to
represent you. We’re not trying to withhold information from anybody, we just
want to make our process more practical and streamlined.” Sam started to turn,
but then he caught himself and tapped at the piece of paper in his hand. “One
more thing,” he added, “the hot water system here runs off of a propane tank.
It’s a limited resource like most other things, so please try and keep your
showers under five minutes. About a third of us have already scrubbed up tonight,
and with the much appreciated help of Walter Sheldon, we have at least one change
of clothes for everybody. They may not fit exactly, and you may look like
you’re about to go moose hunting, but they’re clean and dry and will serve
until we get your regular clothes washed. For those of you that are still on
the list to shower tonight, please remember that other people may already be
sleeping, so try not to sing too loudly.”

A few chuckles settled across the room as Sam return
to his seat.

Michelle motioned her hand across the room toward
Faith. She was lying on her belly next to BB and Noah, and all three of them
were busy sharing a box of crayons and a stack of paper. “Leah . . . well, BB
was translating, but Leah said that she’d be happy to watch Faith as long as we
need her to.”

“Does Faith want to stay with them?” Eric asked.

“I don’t know. Are you on the shower list for
tonight?”

“Yeah . . . so are you.”

“No I’m not,” Michelle answered.

“I know a guy who knows a guy who is second cousins
with another guy that is in charge of that list, so I pulled a few strings and
got you moved up to tonight. We’re last though.”

Michelle was silent for a moment, and then turned her
lips toward Eric’s ear. “I can think of a way that we could save water.”

Eric’s chest began rumbling with laughter as he
answered. “I think I’d rather go back to Devils Lake before facing the wrath of
Bernice if she caught us in the shower together. I’m surprised she hasn’t
already gone up and separated our hay bales into two single beds.”

The assembly began standing, and Eric pushed himself
off the floor and offered a hand to Michelle. She took it and he pulled her to
her feet, ending with her in a half hug. As the crowd shuffled to their various
destinations, Walter and Sam stepped over to them.

“We’re going to have to make a run to the cabin
tomorrow . . . you two want to come along?” Walter asked.

“Can we stay there?” Eric laughed sarcastically.

“Actually,” Walter said, “that might not be such a bad
idea, especially with Max. We’ll figure out something tomorrow.”

“What time are you planning to go?”

“Right after breakfast,” Walter answered.

“We’ll be there.”

“After we get back, you and Michelle are officially
required to attend a meeting of the principals. It’ll be up in the tractor shed
some time after lunch I suppose,” Walter said.

“Hmmm, ‘officially required’ . . . that sounds
serious. Is there a secret handshake?” Eric asked with a slight smile.

Sam chuckled along as he replied. “Yep, we got a
handshake and a secret decoder ring.”

Walter grimaced and shook his head. “I swear that I’m
surrounded by idiots.” He swiveled until he faced Michelle. “Young lady, since
you’re apparently the only one besides me that has more than a minute of self
control, will you please inform your boyfriend that tomorrow after lunch in the
tractor shed we’ll be having a little get together. Be prepared to contribute
anything that you think will be relevant. Others will be doing the same, and
maybe we can figure out something that will end up saving our ass in the
future.” He turned back to Eric and said, “I’ve got a list in my head of a few
people that I think need to be there. Is there anybody you want to add to that
list?”

“I think we should give some consideration to Shawn. I
can’t honestly say that I know a whole lot about him, but so far he seems like
a standup guy. I would’ve never made it out of the veterinarian’s office if we
hadn’t stumbled into each other.”

“I’ll add him to the list. Anybody else?”

Michelle chimed in. “Estes . . . we need to make sure
Captain Estes is there.”

“Done.” Walter tilted his head and held Eric’s gaze
for a long four count. Apparently satisfied, he clapped him on the shoulder and
said, “Welcome back.”

Faith’s slender arms wrapped around my neck in a bear
hug as I tromped robot-like towards the stairs that lead to the basement. Her
musical giggles tickled my ear, and Michelle’s whispered
Shhhh . . .
followed us as we began to descend. The fresh smell of baby powder and fruity
shampoo crept into my nose, and I spun the child around to face me halfway to
the bottom.

“OK tiger, we’ve got to be really quiet now,” I
whispered, “there are some people sleeping down here and we don’t want to wake
them up.”

“OK,” she smiled happily and then buried her face in
my neck.

We stepped quietly through the downstairs living room,
careful not to disturb any of the snoring figures sprawled across the floor as
we made our way to the garage. Once inside, I closed the door behind me and set
Faith down. Rebecca was sitting quietly in a swivel seat office chair that was
positioned in front of a small wooden desk. Her feet were kicked up on the
corner, and the dog-eared pages of a magazine were held in her hand. Attached
to her head, the stark white illumination of an LED light made the magazine
readable. She looked up at us and offered a tired smile. “It’s good to have you
back. We were beginning to wonder if we’d see you again,” she said.

“I was beginning to wonder the same thing.”

“Well you’ll have to tell me all about it some time.”

I nodded, and then tilted my head toward the cloth
screen that encircled the makeshift hospital bed where Uncle Andy had once
again been taken. “Any change?”

“He’s been in and out. I heard him stirring just a few
minutes ago, so you might catch him awake. No matter what though, don’t stay
too long,” she answered.

Michelle and I moved over to the curtain with Faith
walking between us; her hand connecting us like the child’s game with the
plastic monkeys. I pushed the sheet aside and we stepped next to the bed. Uncle
Andy’s eyes were shut, and his calf was wrapped in a thick layer of bandages.
We stood there quietly for a moment, and then Faith’s tiny voice piped up.
“Hello,” she offered.

My uncle cracked one eyelid slightly open, and then
after a moment, followed it with the other.

“How come every time I see you, you’re lying down and
resting. It must be hell to get old and decrepit,” I said.

Both of his eyelids opened halfway, and I watched as
his pupils traveled from me, to Faith, then to Michelle, and then back to
Faith. His eyes repeated the trip twice more—each journey coinciding with increasing
levels of surprise and confusion that settled onto his face. When the pendulum
motion of his gawking finally locked on Faith, his creaky, tired voice spoke
out in bewilderment. “Good gosh almighty . . . how long have I been asleep?”

“Seven years,” I said, “you’ve been in a coma ever
since that fat woman you were dating fell on you.”

Michelle punched my arm. “Stop.” She stepped closer to
my uncle and laid her hand across his. “Your nephew is being his usual ‘full of
crap’ self, Andy. You’ve only been out for a few hours. Doc says you took a
bullet in the calf, and another that grazed your ribs. You also hit your head on
something. In any event, Doc said that you’ll be fine.”

“What happened in the parking lot after I passed out?”

I stepped forward and answered. “It was short but
intense. Ray brought twenty-three people with him . . . well, including him I
mean. Only nine went back to Richland.”

“What about us?” he asked.

“Our only injury was to Scott, and it was pretty
minor. His cheek caught a spray of rock dust from a bullet.” We spent a few
more minutes telling him about the battle, and then he finally stopped us and
pointed toward Faith.

“Who’s the munchkin?”

That explanation took a little bit longer.