One Year After

Joe never got mad about something she hadn't done; he'd just point out that she'd not filled the water bucket or that she hadn't banked the fire for the night. It was like he thought she wasn't capable of doing better and sort of forgave her for that, like most adults would do to a child. Once she realized that, his words about her work began to hurt worse than if he had gotten mad at her.

Randy was so much different. Instead of telling her what they were going to do, he'd tell her what he was thinking and ask her for her opinion. Joe would have expected her to build a fire while he fished. Randy seemed surprised that she'd cut wood and built the fire, and he'd told her she'd done it as well as he could.

She'd show him, Marilyn thought. She'd show Randy that she could do a lot more than he thought. She smiled again and then opened Randy's pack and pulled out his frying pan. After getting the knife from her own pack, Marilyn put a small amount of her bear grease in the frying pan, set in on the coals, and started peeling potatoes.

When Randy brought the pot of water back, Marilyn had peeled and sliced two potatoes and had them in his frying pan. She looked up and smiled.

"I thought you might like some potatoes with your trout and the fire was ready so I started them. They'll be about done in a few minutes and then I'll put in the trout. Trout don't take very long to cook."

Randy lay in his sleeping bag that night watching the glowing coals of the fire and thinking. Marilyn was a little confusing. When she'd opened her door and pointed the rifle in his face, he'd thought she was probably a normal woman made a little crazy by living alone in the wilderness. When she'd basically offered her body if he'd take her with him, he'd changed his mind and she'd become a woman who would do anything to stay alive. Given the circumstances, he couldn't really blame her for that, but still...

Then, she'd said she didn't really love her husband and wasn't very sad that he was probably dead. That made her a hard woman until she'd talked about starting to understand the wilderness while her husband hadn't. That gave Marilyn a softer side that he liked.

She laughed when he suggested they rest. He would have dismissed that as just talk if she hadn't walked so fast while carrying so much weight. She was a strong woman for her size.

She also seemed to enjoy helping him. He'd planned on building the fire and cooking the meal because that was how he usually did things. Marilyn had done both without asking him for help and she seemed proud of doing it. He fell asleep wondering how this Joe guy could live with her for so long and not see what he had.

Randy was awake at first light, and was moving what remained of the coals from the fire into the center when Marilyn walked up beside him. The morning was chilly and she was hugging herself.

"I got up to restart the fire, but I guess you beat me to it. My blankets kept me warm until this morning, but now I'm about to freeze and I need to get warmed up a little."

Randy chuckled.

"It's not as cold here as it is in the mountains. I always fill my water pot before I go to sleep, and up there, it would be frozen over by morning."

Randy added some sticks he'd shaved into curls to the coals and after blowing on the coals for a minute, the kindling burst into flame. Marilyn stooped down beside him and held her hands over the small fire.

"Aaah. That's better. It's my hands that always get cold first."

Randy added larger sticks and a few of the splits Marilyn had cut the day before. The larger sticks caught fire and the heat increased. Marilyn backed away from the fire a little, but still kept her hands over it.

Randy was feeling some heat of his own. Marilyn was so close to him he could feel her arm brush his as she rubbed her hands together. She didn't seem to notice, but having her that close was more than a little exciting He stood up and reached for two of the larger logs to move away from her a little, then placed them on either side of the growing blaze.

"Give me a minute and I'll have you all warmed up. Once I have some coals, I'll boil some water for coffee. I hope you like instant, because that's what I have. I have a little oatmeal left if you'd like breakfast."

Their walk that day was the same as the day before. Sometimes they talked, but most of the time they just walked. Each was lost in their own thoughts.

Randy made plan after plan for his course of action should they meet another person. In the first plan, he would stop and talk with the person to find out if they'd been ill anytime during the past three weeks. If they had, he'd explain to the person that even though they'd recovered from the disease, they were still contagious. Then he'd ask them to move away so he and Marilyn could pass without making contact.

In that earliest plan, it always worked because people would understand. The person would walk away. He and Marilyn would pass them by and go on about the business of replenishing their supplies.

After he reviewed that plan to find any errors in it, Randy knew that probably wouldn't be the case. Either out of hunger or a need for companionship or a desire to take something they had, any person who they met would want to stay close and would have to be considered a threat to their survival. It was how to deal with that threat that caused the other plans.

In the end, it came down to few options. If the person could prove they hadn't been infected, he would allow them to approach. If not, the person had two options from which to choose. They could walk away as Randy instructed or he would end their life. After he thought about the last two options, he reduced them to one. Any person might walk away, but nothing would prevent that person from following them until they stopped. Once it was dark, or if for some reason they were unarmed, they'd be easy prey for an attacker. There was, in reality, only one option instead of two.

Randy struggled with that last course of action for most of the day. He'd spent a year in Iraq and had both been shot at and shot back. There, in a combat situation, it was simple. The man shooting at him had one goal -- to kill him. Randy had the same goal -- to kill the man trying to kill him. Usually he wasn't close enough to the shooter to look him in the face. He just fired at a shape at some distance.

Here, it would be different. He'd be looking the man or woman or even child in the face knowing if they didn't obey his command he'd have to shoot to kill. There really was no option. Any attempt to disable or restrain the person would mean contact with saliva, blood, or other body fluid, and that contact would mean both he and Marilyn would be infected and die.

The Army had instilled in him a disdain for the life of the enemy. It was relatively easy to do that. The enemy looked and dressed differently. That disdain removed most of his reservations about killing another human. The first bullets flying past his head and seeing people in his platoon injured or killed removed those that remained.

The people he and Marilyn would possibly meet wouldn't look any different than they did, wouldn't act or talk any differently, and would probably seem like average people. Randy wasn't sure how he'd react if he had to shoot. Would he hesitate or just pull the trigger?

He found himself wishing they would be zombies like in the movies. Zombies weren't human anymore and it would be a simple matter to shoot them. It wouldn't be easy to shoot a person who seemed healthy, but in the end, that was the only sane course of action. He couldn't let a walking infection stay walking and infecting the few people who were still healthy.

Marilyn thought about several things, and couldn't resolve any of the questions those thoughts caused. What would Randy do if they did meet someone? What would she do? What should she do, stay back and let Randy handle the situation or join him?

What if they met someone who hadn't been infected? Would they ask that person to come with them or tell them to go away? It seemed cruel to tell a healthy person they had to live in an unhealthy place, but their survival was at stake.

The last thought caused her more questions than the other two. Randy said they should stay in the cabin over the winter, and that if the government survived, they would be looking for survivors. If that happened, would Randy want to stay with her?

What if the disease had essentially ended government? Nobody would come looking for them if that happened. Would Randy be content to stay in the cabin with her forever?

She needed someone to be with in order to feel safe, and Randy was the only person she trusted. If he left...Then she realized there was another reason she wanted him to stay. Joe hadn't touched her in four years. She'd forgotten what it felt like to be close to a man, but over the last week, she started to feel a thrill if she touched Randy or he touched her. It wasn't really arousal. It was a feeling of wanting and needing to be aroused, to feel the weight of a man nestled between her thighs, to feel the surge of sensations that would leave her breathless and reeling from the experience.

Marilyn silently cursed herself for being selfish. She couldn't expect Randy to stay with her. He was just going to help her through the winter. He'd probably leave her then and she'd just have to deal with that when the time came.

Their camp that night was quiet. Neither one wanted to start the conversation they knew they had to have before going into Challis the next day. Randy caught two more trout. Marilyn built a fire and cooked them with more potatoes. They went to bed anticipating the next day.

The sun was just peeking over the trees when Randy woke up. Marilyn was squatting in front of the flickering flames of the fire she was reviving. He crawled out of his sleeping bag and went to join her.

"You're up early, Marilyn. Get cold again?"

"No. I couldn't sleep anymore. We need to talk."

Randy put his hand on Marilyn's shoulder and squeezed gently.

"I know. I'm worried too. I thought about it all day yesterday and didn't like the answer I came up with."

Marilyn put her hand over Randy's.

"Let's make coffee and then you can tell me."

As the fire burned down to coals, Randy told Marilyn his final plan.

"If the person is obviously well and can prove they haven't been exposed, we won't bother them. I haven't decided about letting them join us or not because I can't do that by myself. You and I will both have to agree to let them do that. I can't ask you to accept a third person if you have any, and I mean any, reservations about doing it. You might see something in the person I don't, and safe is better than sorry.

If they're sick or have recovered from the disease, we don't have any other option. Both of us have to be prepared to shoot them. That means chest or head, but the chest is a bigger target so you should aim for that.

Randy shook his head.

"See why I don't like the plan?"

"Yes, but like you say, we really don't have any options, do we? I mean, even touching them would probably infect at least one of us and we'd die."

"Can you do it", asked Randy. "Shoot somebody?"

"I don't know. It would depend, I guess."

For the first time since they'd met, Marilyn heard Randy's voice grow stern.

"Marilyn, there can't be any 'depend', not if you want both of us to stay alive."

"I know that. All I can say is I'll try."

Randy saw tears in Marilyn's eyes, and was ashamed of himself. He reached over and stroked her back.

"Marilyn, I'm sorry. I got...it's just that this situation isn't about being the person you were before. It's about being the person you have to be to stay alive. I know you'll try, and I'll be right there beside you."

Two hours later, they walked onto the pavement of Idaho 70 and could see the buildings of Challis in the distance. The sun was directly overhead when they walked into the edge of the town.

It was eerie and fascinating at the same time. Challis was never a busy town, but there were always a few people driving or walking around. Now, the streets were deserted. As they walked down Gardner Creek Road, they saw nobody, not even kids playing. Here and there the door to a house stood wide open, as if the people had left in such a hurry they'd forgotten to close it.

The stench hit them as they approached the US Forest Service building, and it was then Randy saw the first coyote. He whispered to Marilyn.

"Give me the 30-30 and the rest of the cartridges. You chamber the.22. If you see a coyote, dog, cat, or any other animal, kill it."

.

As Marilyn handed him the rifle she whispered "Why".

"Because if that coyote was doing what I think it was doing, it could be infected. Don't you smell that smell?"

"Yes, I smell it. It smells like something's dead. Oh God...you mean...Oh God no, not that."

Randy nodded.

"The first thing Doctor Mayes would have done is get all the sick people in one place so he could treat them faster. The Forest Service building is in the middle of town and would hold a lot of people. My guess is there was nobody to bury the dead, and the coyotes are scavenging the bodies somewhere. My guess is it's the Forest Service building. Marilyn, you can't hesitate. Just aim and pull the trigger. We can't take any chances."

"I thought you said the bacteria couldn't live unless it was in a live body."

"I did, but we don't know how long the people have been dead. It might have only been since this morning."

They were a block from the Forest Service building when a black bear shuffled out of a side street going toward the building. It saw Randy and Marilyn, turned to face them and began walking in their direction.

Randy handed the rifle to Marilyn and thumbed the shotgun safety to "fire". He yelled at the bear and waved his arms, but the bear kept coming. Randy let it approach to about fifty feet before firing the shotgun.

The slug caught the bear in the chest. It roared and clawed at the wound, then kept coming. Randy's second slug entered the bear's head just behind the eye. The bear stopped cold and then fell over. Randy steered Marilyn around the twitching carcass while keeping the shotgun trained on the bear, but it stopped moving just as they passed. When they were past, Randy whispered to Marilyn.

"We need to watch for bears too. It looks like this one got used to an easy food source and thought we'd make a nice lunch. There are probably others. Just let me take care of them with the shotgun. The 30-30 wouldn't stop a bear before he could get to us."

They saw two more coyotes before they reached the sporting goods store where Randy had worked. Marilyn killed both with.22. They saw several more in the distance, but at the first shot, those turned and ran.

In the sporting goods store, Randy went to the gun counter. In the shelving behind the counter and under the rack of rifles were boxes of ammunition. He quickly pulled out all twenty-eight boxes of 30-30 cartridges and put them on the counter. There were boxes of 500,.22 long rifle rounds on the shelf, and Randy put all twenty of them on the counter as well. Twenty five boxes of.44 magnum rounds for his revolver quickly joined those on the counter. On a rack against the south wall were the shotgun shells. Randy picked up all thirty boxes of slug rounds, and all fifty of the boxes of shot shells.

"There's more here than I thought there'd be and more than we can carry, but we need to take it all somehow. We need a different type of rifle as well...and there they are."

Randy lifted the new AR-15 from the rack, then looked in the display case, found a sling that fit, and atttached it to the rifle. He looked at Marilyn.

"We need at least two of these and ammunition for them as well all the rest, but we'll never be able to carry all this. We need some pack horses. There aren't any in town that I know of, but I'll bet I can find us a truck. We'll load everything in the truck and drive it as far as we can, then haul all this back to the cabin a few things at a time. What do you think?"

"It sounds like a good plan, but why do we need two more rifles? Don't we already have enough guns to hunt with?"

"It's something I thought about walking through town and seeing the coyotes and the bear. If we just needed the rifles and shotgun for hunting, we do have enough, but we may not be the only ones hunting now. Just like the bear was, there may be other people hunting us.

"The 30-30 holds five rounds plus one in the chamber. The shotgun is the same. The.22 holds fourteen with plus one in the chamber but it wouldn't stop a determined person very fast. What if we meet up with say, ten or more people who want to take what we have? It's not likely we could fire fast enough and hit with every round we fired, so we need more firepower. These AR-15's hold 30 rounds in the magazine and they'll fire as fast as you can pull the trigger. We need them for our own safety."

"Oh...I guess I didn't think about that. I kind of wish you hadn't told me. You think people will really be that bad?"

"How bad would you be if you didn't have food or a warm place in the winter?"

Randy found the Ford moving truck sitting in front of the auto repair place that also rented moving equipment and trucks. The office door was locked, but it took him only a few minutes to kick in the door and find the keys on the key rack. It started and seemed to run OK and the fuel tank was three quarters full, so he drove it up to the sporting goods store. When he went back inside, he grinned at Marilyn.

"Now we can do some real shopping."

Four of the AR-15 rifles went into the truck along with all the ammunition in the store for those and the firearms they already had. Randy also picked out a twenty gauge pump shotgun for Marilyn and loaded it and all the ammunition for it in the truck. He picked up all the axes, hatchets, and knives as well because as he told Marilyn, if they broke one, there would be no way to quickly repair it.

The store was well stocked with outdoor clothing, so they loaded everything large enough fit them into the truck, including boots, both insulated and not. They loaded every pair of gloves and mittens they could find regardless of the size. Marilyn said she could take the smaller ones apart and sew them into something that would fit.

Randy loaded all the rope he could find into the truck as well as several spools of large diameter fishing line. The fine line was strong and would make good rabbit snares so they could save their ammunition. Marilyn smiled when she found box upon box of matches, and carried them all to the truck, then went back inside to look for candles and lamp oil.

Their next stop was the hardware store where they loaded nails, screws, more rope, and hand tools like hammers, saws, and drills.

When they had gotten everything they wanted from the hardware store, he asked Marilyn if they'd forgotten anything. She grinned.

"I don't think there's any more here we need, but you said we needed dried food, and I would absolutely love to have some toilet paper again."

Ah hour later, Randy pulled down the roll-up door on the truck and latched it, and then he and Marilyn drove to his parent's house. They weren't there, but he'd long since given up hope they would be. He just wanted what would probably be his last look at "home" for a long time.

While he went into his old bedroom, Marilyn went to the kitchen to see if there was anything there she could use. She came back out with an envelope, found Randy, and handed it to him.

"This was on the table. It's for you, Randy."

Randy recognized his mother's handwriting, and his hands shook as he tore open the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of paper. He sat down to read it.