Epilogue

“I can’t believe this storm,” Dad said. Heavy snow whipped against the windscreen of the car, and the wipers had a hard time keeping up. “I wish the weather channel got it right for once.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, dear,” Grandma patted his shoulder from where she sat in the backseat. “I won’t miss anything important. I’ll take the train tomorrow instead. You’ll get to stay at my house another time.”

“Gran, don’t you always say you can’t stand trains? Or planes?” Weldon asked, looking from the window to her. “That’s why Dad drives you back and forth?”

“Well, yes.” Gran smiled. “It’s quirky, isn’t it? But I can’t let you drive so far for my sake.”

“We didn’t get very far, did we? I was also going to look at your heater, so we’ll go together tomorrow again. They’re bound to have cleared the road from trees by then.”

Grandma chuckled. “Well, in that case, thank you.” She turned toward Weldon. “If we’re going to leave tomorrow, should we prepare some more food for them before we leave? Do you think they liked the rolled up crumbs?”

Weldon smiled and patted Grandma’s hand. “I’m sure they did.”

“What more do you do for them? Do they eat anything else except bread?”

Weldon shook his head. “No. The package said bread is the only thing they can eat. It gives them enough moisture to keep them from drying out, but if it’s much wetter than that, their bodies usually start failing. I dropped a glass of water in there once, and even though it wasn’t much, one melted.”

The car stopped, and the three of them got out.

“I’m going to clear the driveway,” Dad said. “Looks like the storm is only going to get worse.”

“Then I’ll put on some coffee.” Grandma walked up the stairs.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Come to my room after that,” Weldon said as he unlocked the door. “I think they’re celebrating something today. I saw them carry some stuff earlier, and it’s really fun to see.”

Grandma nodded, and Weldon kicked off his shoes. He walked up the stairs and took down the “Keep Out” sign, knowing what his grandma would say if she saw he’d put it up again. Then he opened the door.

Cool air intermingled with smoke filled his nostrils. Weldon turned on the light. He gaped as he looked at the hole in the window, to the smashed lightbulb over his terrarium, to the blackened remnants below. Snow fell thick and heavy into the room, and he ran to his city. He stretched a hand to the black masses of houses and shoved it aside.

“Ah!” He withdrew the hand and shook it. A small stream of smoke rose toward the shattered window. Weldon walked there and looked at the tree outside, but backed as a branch swung toward him. He cupped his hand around his mouth. “Dad! Dad, it caught fire!”

Weldon backed away as the branch snapped toward the house again, and the wind howled. The door opened behind him.

“Oh, my!” Grandma said, holding a hand over her mouth. “What happened here?”

Dad walked straight past both of them to the window. He ducked as the branch came swinging. “I should have taken that damned thing down. We’re lucky nothing else caught fire.”

Weldon sighed and looked at the destruction within his terrarium. “My whole world is destroyed.”

Dad turned toward it and patted Weldon’s shoulder. “You got the civilization when you were ten, and kept it alive for three years. Most only last for one, at most. You did a great job.” Smoke wafted from one of the black piles. “I’m going to get a tarpaulin for the window, and a bucket of water for the city.”

Weldon wiped a hand under his eyes. “I spent so much time on this, and this stupid tree ruined it all.”

Grandma hugged his shoulders. “What if you got new houses for Christmas? I know you and Dad built some, and I’m sure you can do that again, but just to get you started? You said you’d hatch the new generation in a few days. That will be fun, won’t it? We can clean the terrarium tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to start a new one. I want my old one back.”

Grandma sighed and hugged him closer. “That’s not possible, but let’s see if any of them survived. Then you would have some old ones to teach the new ones. If there are any, we can put them in a jar for now. Do you have a spare lamp?”

Weldon sniffed and nodded. “Yeah. We got an extra since the last one broke. They can’t go without heat for long.”

“Go on, look for survivors. I’m going to get a jar, okay?”

Weldon nodded. He leaned over the edge, squinting. “I think the one on the dice is alive. It’s twitching.”

“That’s great.” Dad put the bucket of water on the desk and approached. “Pick it up. Maybe your hand is warm enough to save it for now.”

Grandma stopped with a hand around the door frame and shook her head. “Technology sure has changed. When I was young, the closest we got was tamagotchi and sea-monkeys.”