Page 50 of The Last Stars in the Sky
“Took everything from Price ChopperandHannaford,” Abby adds.
“Everybody’s scared about food,” Tom says. “Understandable.”
“But…but…” Daniel is spluttering, still unable to get his head around it all. “How could they have refused to help, the reserves?” He thinks of the patriotic army posters from his childhood, the sense of pride in duty and sacrifice.Uncle Sam Needs You. The feeling has waned in recent years, with the shift in culture, he knows that, but…“Wasn’t anything—enforced?”
“I reckon the higher-ups didn’t do much about it,” Tom replies. “It was all pretty dangerous, obviously, and well—futile, I guess. I mean, when a place is flattened, on fire…well, nobody wants to die of radiation poisoning or what have you. And they don’t want to leave their own families behind.” He shakes his head regretfully. “That’s not the way the world works anymore, is it? Sacrificing yourself for another, for a higher cause?”
And yet here these people were, feeding him, a stranger, with food they could scarcely afford to share. “I heard the president say things would be restored in a couple of weeks,” Daniel says. He thinks of the man’s reedy voice, proclaiming peace from a bunker. He hadn’t believed him, at least hethoughthe hadn’t, and he’d told Alex as much, but right now, he realized he had, at least a little bit. He’d wanted to, so much.
“We heard that too,” Tom answers, “but that was before the second set of blasts. And the looting and the gangs…all of it. I don’t see how order is going to be restored, not for a long time, anyway. We do our best to live as we’re called to live, with honor and respect and charity. But it’s going to get tougher for everyone.” He glances at Hannah and Noah, who are sitting silently, their heads bowed over their empty plates, and for a second, his face is suffused with sadness. “Those up there in the high school are going to run out of food one day. Costco isn’t that big.”
And then would those gangs and militia come for good, honest people like these? Daniel isn’t about to say as much in front of the children, but he sees the resigned truth of it in Tom’s face, and his heart aches for the man, for his family.
“I should go,” he says, as he rises from the table and takes his plate to the sink. “You’ve been very kind and generous.” He realizes he’s unconsciously mimicking Tom’s slow, country drawl. “Thank you.”
“I’ll fix that tire for you.” Tom rises from his seat. “And if you want to spend the night, sleep in a bed, you’re welcome. You can leave in the morning, at first light, get a good day’s travel in.”
Daniel hesitates. The thought of a pillow, a mattress, clean sheets, is so very tempting. Maybe even a wash and a shave. “I usually travel by night,” he tells Tom, his voice filled with regret at what he’s passing up—but he knows he needs to get to Sam as soon as he can. Every day that passes is a danger. “But thank you.”
Tom nods, accepting; he’s not going to argue the point. As Tom leaves the warmth of the kitchen, Daniel glances back longingly—Hannah and Noah are crouching on the floor, playing with the dog, and Abby is wiping baby Isaac’s face. The look on her face is calm but also resigned, the same as her husband’s. Stoic, even as she turns to speak gently to one of the children.Daniel has a strong and powerful urge to stay in that comfortable room, enjoy its warmth, these people’s kindness, but he can’t. He knows he can’t.
Outside by the barn, Tom pumps up both his tires, tests them with his thumb. “Seems okay,” he remarks. “I hope they last you.”
“Thank you—”
“Here.” Daniel turns to see Abby coming down the steps, toward the barn. She’s carrying a bag, which she thrusts at him. “Some food to keep you going. God bless you. I pray you find your son.” She blinks rapidly, and he thinks of the people she has lost—her brother, his wife, their three girls. Who else?
“Thank you,” he says again. He doubts he will ever see these people again, and yet he feels a rush of affection for them, deep and true. “I don’t know how to thank you—” he confesses helplessly, and he hears the throb of emotion in his voice, the threat of tears.
“Find your son and get yourself back home,” Tom says gruffly. “That’s plenty thanks enough.” He puts his arm around Abby. “We’d best get inside. Not always safe out here now. You take care.”
Daniel nods, and then as Tom and his wife turn away, he gets back on his bike.
SEVENTEEN
I am running out of the kitchen, my heart in my throat, when Kerry grabs me by the arm, wrenches me around so hard it feels as if she’s pulled my shoulder out of its socket. “Don’t,” she hisses, and I stare at her wildly.
“Mattie—”
“There’s someone else here, and you’ll just walk right into them.” She pushes me back into the kitchen, and I want to kick and claw at her, howl my outrage. Ineedto go to my daughter. “I’m serious, Alex,” she whispers. “You won’t help Mattie by running out there like that.” She nods toward the gun I have strapped to my chest, more of an afterthought than anything else. “Do you even know how to shoot that thing?”
“I will if I have to.” My voice trembles, and I unstrap the gun with shaking hands. The school has gone completely silent, which terrifies me.What’s happened to Mattie? “How do you know someone else is here?” I whisper to Kerry.
“I heard them, right before Mattie screamed.”
Everything in me goes icy and empty. I tighten my grip on the gun. “What did you hear?” I whisper.
“A guy, maybe two. They were muttering something.”
“Why didn’t you say—”
“It happened too fast.”
I nod my acceptance, take a breath, and then glance toward the hallway that leads back to the classrooms, shadowy and empty. Before I can even take a single step down it, a man emerges from one of the classrooms. He’s fiftyish, with a patchy gray beard, wild hair under a baseball cap, a paunch under his plaid shirt. He’s got a gun, and I’m pretty sure he knows how to use it a lot better than I do.
“You can just put that gun down right now, missy,” he says, aiming his right at me. “Rightnow.”
If I put the gun down, we might as well all be dead. “Where’s my daughter?” I demand, and I’m heartened that my voice comes out strong.
