Page 5 of Resistant

A tidal wave of anger takes over in my mind. I want to scream at Wyatt. I want to rage at him. I want someone to end all of this craziness.

I work out more, and practice drills more frequently with Nathan. My anger is palpable, and Wyatt refuses to talk about his decision to join the Resistance.

I find myself thinking about my great grandparents and sympathize with my grandmother watching her husband leave during World War I.

How do people do this?

I fantasize about dropping sleeping pills into Wyatt’s tea and barricading him in the basement, so he can’t leave. If I thought I could pull it off, I would try it.

At night, he whispers his fears, his plans, and his promises, things he’s not willing to say in the daylight.

I try to cry silently, but he knows I’m awake because he clasps me tightly to his chest.

This is utter madness.

He’s made up his mind and I don’t want the next days and hours together to be full of anger, blame, and arguments.Who knows how much time we have left?I bite my tongue and try to figure out what I am going to do without him.

One cold winter morning, a neighbor picks up Wyatt in an old rusty truck. The cold has seeped through my clothing to my bones and blood. I may never be warm again. Wyatt has been my sun, and I fear the coming darkness I will face alone. I’m terrified I won’t be able to keep my children safe.

He’s packed all his belongings in a camo duffel and is wearing fatigues I didn’t know he had. He hugs the boys, telling them to take care of me, and I feel so many emotions from panic, terror, to grief.

I shut everything down, smashing it all into a cube deep in the recesses of my mind. I will stay numb so I can get through this. I cannot believe he’s leaving, and I don’t know when or if he’ll be coming back. He holds me tightly for a long minute.

“Did you hear what I said to you last night?” he asks.

Despite my will to show no emotion, I feel tears flowing down my cheeks and I’m having a hard time taking a breath.

“No,” I whisper.

I struggle to swallow around the knot that forms in my throat. His lips press against my ear.

“I love you more than life itself. You have always been the sum of my hopes and desires; I don’t regret a single moment we’ve had together. I will come back to you if I can. You are strong. I know you can take care of our boys. I’m going to try and change this for us, for our boys. Please, baby, don’t be angry with me.”

I cry harder and I can’t speak. He kisses my forehead, leans in, and stares into my eyes, squeezes me close to him one last time.

He looks down at Lily, rubs her ear, and says, “Stay.”

Then he points to me and says, “Master.”

Lily looks at me, and heels by her new master. I’m not thrilled that I’m her new master.

Wyatt turns and jogs over to the truck. Lily whines and leans on my leg as he climbs in the truck.

My baby boy is wailing, clutching his brother’s arm, and I nearly break my back trying to pick him up. He’s too big, but I do it anyway. I hug David close, wrap an arm around my oldest boy, and ugly cry as they drive away. Wyatt gives us a little salute, and I see his face contort in grief as they turn the corner.

Later, when I’m surrounded by darkness, I embrace the shadows, doubt and fear swirling around me. I clutch Wyatt’s pillow to my chest and cry into the early morning hours. I am devastated and I don’t want to face tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that.

This night will be the only time I allow myself to wallow. From now on, I’m possibly the only parent my boys have, and I don’t have any intention of letting Wyatt down.

World Gone Crazy

Brynn

I’m humming to myself and trying to remember how many seasons have passed since Wyatt left to join the Resistance. Many of our days are so much alike that I don’t know how much time has passed since The Before. That’s what we all call it, the time Before the world fell apart.

Much of our world has changed. Utilities and power are rationed, and the heat is killing me. We don’t have enough power to run the air conditioning and it is stiflingly hot. My tank top sticks to my chest, and even my shorts are drenched with sweat.

I jump when the quiet of the house is interrupted by the TV. The emergency test system drills drones loudly, with the colored lines and the annoying beep that never ends.

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