Page 15 of The Last Stars in the Sky
“I don’t know. The wind’s blowing from the west, at the moment.”
Is that a good thing? I can’t imagine any of it, but I absorb what he has told me and swallow hard. “Okay.”
“It looks like millions have already died, but even more will die in the coming weeks,” Daniel continues. He is staring fixedly ahead, not looking at me. “From the fallout, the fires, but also other things. Nothing is working—no water, no electricity, no public services, just about anywhere. Canada is affected too,they’re connected in a lot of ways to the US. Apparently, the countries have one of the most integrated power grids in the world, so nothing’s working, at least near the border, and, as you know your dad liked to point out, ninety percent of Canadians live within a hundred miles of the United States border.” He rubs his hand over his face as I nod; I can practically hear my dad say it, in his now-this-is-really-interesting voice.
“In the States,” Daniel continues, “they can’t even get close enough to put the fires out in any of the cities. And then there’s all the people in hospitals, people who need to go to hospitals, the emergency services are a mess, and first responders want to stay at home, where it’s safe, especially because of the radiation…”
I swallow again; my throat feels dry, my lips numb. “You learned this all on the radio?”
“And from Darlene, what she saw on TV early this morning. But…there’s no easy fix to any of this, Alex. There’s no fix at all.”
I nod mechanically. I’m thinking of my mother in her nursing home, so helpless, so alone. Does she understand? Is she scared? “But the president said things would be up and running in a few days.” I offer this as if it is evidence, paltry as I know it is.
Daniel shakes his head, resolute, utterly certain. “I don’t think so.”
We are both silent, staring ahead, simply breathing, and all of it feels hard enough. It takes effort to keep going, as if I have to tell myself to breathe, force my heart to beat, my body to work, second by agonizing second.
“Will you be able to get Sam?” I finally ask, and while I mean to sound practical, like there is a reasoned discussion to be had, a note of challenge hardens my voice, a tone of judgment that I know Daniel hears. I didn’t mean it like that; at least I didn’t want to. But I know it’s there just as he does, and I know all that one note represents, all it accuses.You failed us once, as afamily. You lost us our house, our happiness, our whole lives. Don’t do it again. I stare at him, half in apology, half in defiance.
Daniel’s lips tighten as he stares at me bleakly, understanding everything, I think, that’s just gone through my head as if I had said it out loud. I practically did.
“I’ll try,” he says.
SEVEN
“Breathe out, close your left eye, line up the sights, squeeze the trigger. Keep the gun tight against your shoulder, otherwise it might hit you in the face and that would sting a bit.”
Daniel’s voice is steady yet holding a wry note of humor I recognize, and am amazed he can hold onto considering our situation. I don’t have the strength to reply in kind; I simply nod, his instructions running through my mind in a loop as I try to do what he says. My squinted gaze is focused on the tin can perched on a log fifty feet away. I breathe out, let the air slowly trickle from me, even as my heart pounds.Focus,Alex. You can do this.I squeeze the trigger.
The gun kicks hard against my shoulder and the bullet goes wide. My breath comes out in a rush, and I lower the rifle.
“Damn.”
“It’s okay,” Daniel replies as calm as ever. “Try again.”
“I don’t want to waste the bullets.”
“We have a few to spare. Your dad kept quite a bit of ammunition around.” He smiles, but I can’t smile back. It’s been twenty-four hours since I woke up to the sound of the generator, the world changed, and every single second counts. There is absolutely nothing to smile about.
Daniel was adamant that we make some kind of plan before he left to find Sam. “I’m not rushing off half-cocked, Alex,” he told me sternly, his expression so obdurate that I realized he would not be moved on this point. “Too much is at stake. I need to make sure I’m prepared, and I need to make sureyou’reprepared.”
Hence the shooting lessons. We’ve been out here for almost an hour in the freezing cold, deep in the woods, the sky a hard, bright blue, the trees bare all around us, a silent army of stark, skeletal sentinels. My fingers are numb even in gloves, and I can’t feel the tip of my nose. I have yet to so much as nick the tin can.
“Why would I need to shoot a gun, anyway?” I ask Daniel, trying not to sound petulant, but we’ve been at this for a while and I want to move forward, I want to do something thatcounts.It’s a futile desire, I know, but I feel it all the same.
“Because I want you to be able to defend yourself,” he replies in the kind of patient voice he uses with the children. “And the girls.”
“Against what?” Now I sound belligerent. “A wolf?”
“No,” Daniel replies, his voice still steady. “People.”
I forget the rifle and its barrel swings down toward the ground as I stare at him. “People? You think someone like Darlene is going to—what,attackus here?”
“No, not Darlene,” he replies. Now he sounds as if his patience is being tried. I’m being difficult, maybe even on purpose, because I don’t want this to be the reality. I keep pushing up against it, kicking at it pointlessly, the way Mattie did against us taking her phone away, insisting we were unreasonable, that life didn’t work this way. Except now it does.
“But someone we don’t know,” Daniel continues, “who doesn’t know us? Who stumbles upon this cottage, this lake, the barn and the garden and everything else, and thinks they mightlike some of it? Yes.” His eyes are hard, his mouth a grim line as he nods toward the rifle. “Try again.”
And so I do, as grimly purposeful as he is, because even if he’s just trying to scare me, it’s working. I don’t want to be attacked, but if I am, I’m damned well going to be able to defend myself. Or at least try, I amend, as I miss again.
