Page 44 of The Last Stars in the Sky
The buoyant optimism I was feeling earlier drains away, leaving me cold and so very tired. “What do we do now?” I wonder aloud.
“There are some old windows in the barn,” Mattie ventures. “Aren’t there? Could we use those?”
Build a greenhouse ourselves from some old windows? I have no idea how even to begin that project. “I suppose we could try,”I say, but I’m not feeling optimistic. Just this one small project overwhelms me—what about all the rest?
Kerry presses her lips together. “We need to go back to Corville.”
“What?” I stare at her in surprise, and no small amount of dismay. “Last time we were there, my daughters were shot at. We are not going back.”
“If we want to build a greenhouse, we need some more tools,” Kerry replies evenly. “Wall studs, bigger screws, lumber. We can’t do it otherwise.” She stares at me levelly, a cool challenge in her eyes, as well as a flicker of sympathy. “The army will be long gone. They were never going to stick around. They’ve probably gone to some other town, to take the food and tell us how they’re going to redistribute it.”
She speaks so sardonically that I’m compelled to ask, “You don’t think they did?”
“Who knows? But they were sure willing to shoot at the people they’re meant to protect. Anyway, they won’t be there, and we might be able to find some stuff somewhere.”
“You think the Country Depot won’t be stripped like Foodland was going to be?”
“Other places. Churches, the school, maybe. Places people won’t think of, that will have supplies.”
“The school,” Mattie repeats in excitement. “They’ll have a kitchen too. They might have tons of food.”
I stare at them both, a sense of futility swamping me, because already I sense that they are both right. We need more supplies—tools, lumber, food. Still, I don’t want to go back to Corville. Everything in me resists it.
“My dad has a circular saw,” I say, a bit feebly. “And we’ve got plenty of wood. We can cut down a tree, for heaven’s sake…”
“And wall studs?” Kerry asks. I barely know what those are.
“I think we should, Mom,” Mattie says quietly. “There might be all sorts of stuff we need.”
I’m being swayed, but I don’t want to be. It will be dangerous. I know it will be. I feel it in my bones, in my gut.
“The army will be gone, like Kerry said,” Mattie says, her tone strangely gentle. “And everyone else there was nice, helpful. I don’t think it will be dangerous.”
I can’t believe how much my daughter has grown up in the space of a few short weeks. A couple of weeks ago, she was screeching about the lack of Wi-Fi.
“Okay,” I say at last. “Fine. We’ll go, early tomorrow, when it will hopefully be quiet. And we won’t stay long.”
Kerry and Mattie share a complicit, triumphant look; another relationship has been growing there, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.
We leave the next morning, just after dawn. Ruby stays back with Darlene, and while I once again resist leaving them alone, leaving the cottage atall, I feel I have no choice. As we drive down the road, shrouded in dawn mist, I can’t decide if I’m doing something risky but smart, or just dangerously stupid. What would Daniel do in this situation?
I know immediately; he would go to Corville by himself, and make sure we stayed safe at home. Why didn’t I appreciate his selflessness more, I wonder, even as I acknowledge it’s the kind of thing you only appreciate when a person is gone. Even with our financial troubles, I know Daniel was trying to think about the family. I was so angry that he hid it from me, but he did it to keep us from being worried. I wish I’d been willing to understand that before he left. I hope I have a chance to tell him if—when—he returns. There are a lot of things I want to say to him, things I need him to know.
The roads are empty, at least, but as we drive onward, I know I have no idea what we’ll find in Corville. If Darlene’s place, out in the middle of nowhere, could be trashed, what about the homes and businesses of a once-thriving town? I’m trying to prepare myself for devastation, but I know it will still be a shock to come face to face with it.
When we get to the first crossroads, with the lumber yard on one side and the empty grocery store on the other, we already see signs of havoc having been wrought. The stacked lumber is gone, and the windows of the store are all broken, even though there couldn’t have been anything inside.Why,I wonder, and then I ask aloud, “Why is this happening?” Both Kerry and Mattie look at me like I’m stupid. “I mean, why in rural Ontario?” I continue. “Canada wasn’t hit, was it? There shouldn’t be the same kind of chaos as in the US, right?”
Kerry shrugs. “Maybe it was hit. I mean, if the army is going around trying to boss people around, something must have happened. Or maybe it’s just the US, but everyone’s scared we’ll be next. Who knows?”
The thought that Canada might have been targeted too chills me. I had, without even realizing it, believed that all the attacks had already happened, that they were over. I thought I knew the extent of the damage, at least in terms of localities, but of course I don’t know anything. No one does, which is why the windows of an empty supermarket have been broken.
I take a deep breath and let it out, and then I start to turn toward the town.
“Hold it!” Kerry barks, and I jam on the brakes, my heart starting to race.
“What—”
“Someone’s left a couple of two-by-fours in the lumber yard. We could use those. Pull in.”
