Dinner had been served in Walker House, with those from the silos and those from the farms dining in the same structure for a change. Usually the farmers were served in the farmhouse nearest the airbase, but this was special - the last meal before a supply run. Grant had requested it this way. He knew all too well that not everyone was guaranteed to return from such trips.
Kay was the most talented cook in Community and therefore prepared the lion’s share of the meals. Grant had asked her to set aside certain rations to ensure tonight would be an exceptional dinner. As a result, tonight’s menu was white rice - a favorite staple, canned sweet potatoes, and beef jerky – the last meat-based protein that remained.
Grant surveyed the table and was comforted by the eagerness with which the meal was consumed. He was flanked by Laird to his right, and Kay to his left. Beyond her sat Charles, Wes, then the Walker children. Past Laird was Lacy, then Eva. Mitchell had been scheduled to be on guard outside the silo but had come inside due to the storm. He sat on a chair far from the table. Isaac never attended dinner.
“Wes,” said Grant. Wes looked up from his plate and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I’d like you to accompany us on the supply run tomorrow.”
Nodding, Wes responded, “Absolutely, I’ll gladly go.”
“Eva? How about you? Up for a little scavenging?”
The girl’s eyes never met Grant’s. “No. I’d rather stay here and learn my place in Community.”
“Oh? I thought you would jump at the chance to get outside the perimeter again,” said Grant, trying to bait her. There was a chuckle from Mitchell.
Now, she looked at Grant. “I think I’ve had my share of adventure. Besides, I need to get my mind right. Going beyond the perimeter might only encourage poor decisions on my part.”
Clever girl, thought Grant. He played along. “Good. Glad to see you’re taking things seriously.”
Laird turned to Grant, then motioned toward the far end of the room. “And Mitchell?”
Grant slowly shook his head. “Too much of a wildcard. Too much of a risk.”
“Agreed,” replied Laird. “I’m all for aggression when necessary, but he’s too aggressive for his own good.”
“It’s his strength and his weakness,” said Kay. “I agree that he’s a possible liability, but I’m not exactly pleased that you’re leaving him here. You saw the way he acted toward Eva.”
“Yes,” Grant responded. “But she did exacerbate the situation by egging him on.”
Kay raised her eyebrows and nodded. “She’s quite gifted at that.”
There was a pause, then Grant asked, “Have you seen any improvement at all?”
Laird sipped his glass of water, peeked over at Kay, who hadn’t looked up from her plate. “None,” he replied.
Grant looked straight ahead, but he was focused not on what was before him, but on some dilemma in his mind.
Laird noticed the change in his demeanor and attempted to rationalize Eva’s lack of progress. “She hates me though. Even if she was doing better, I doubt she’d reveal it to me. I think she prefers keeping people from getting too close. I can appreciate that.”
“Kay?” Grant appealed to who he considered the head of Walker House. “Any change you’ve noticed? Perhaps something she’s felt more comfortable revealing to a woman?”
Kay met his eyes and, reluctantly it seemed, shook her head. “She has no time for me. She confides in Lacy.”
Appearing uninterested in his food, Grant sat back in his chair and stroked his chin. “I’ll have to have a talk with her then.”
When the meal had ended, everyone chipped in with the clean-up. Grant momentarily relieved Charles from his duties and led him to an empty room. “The nomad…any drastic changes?”
“Alex?” Charles shook his head. “It’s a no-go. He hasn’t done anything differently. Same old routine¬: doesn’t really eat and speaks to invisible people.”
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“Except when he speaks to Eva,” said Grant.
“Right. But I don’t know if he’s really even aware of her.”
“He never engages her?”
“I’ve never heard him address her. He only speaks to a Henry and Annabelle.” Charles shrugged. “Whoever they are.”
Grant nodded, then exited the room.
The infiltration by the tarmac couple had driven Alex and the twins from the control tower and home to the safety of the silo. It had been the first time he had killed anyone.
He’d had no choice, of course. It was either Alex and the twins or them. One shot was all he’d needed for the man, as he was struck in the head. The woman had taken a bullet to the upper chest, but had still moved after hitting the ground, so Alex had fired into her once more to be sure. Then he had told the children to hide their eyes until he led them outside, where they hurried to the pickup and sped home. Fortunately, the storm had diminished, so he didn’t need to worry about the seeds so much. Rain usually followed seed storms, but they’d made it home before any had fallen.
Shedding their bio-suits in the air chamber, Henry and Annabelle descended the stairs while Alex closed and locked the exterior door. He quickly followed the twins and advanced ahead of them, moving into the bedroom, rifle at the ready.
“All clear,” he said. “Go ahead and get changed. I’ll get you something to eat.”
After feeding the twins the canned goods they’d gotten from the store, he put them to bed. Henry raised his hand. “Yes, Henry?”
“Prayers?”
Alex nodded and knelt with them. Off to his right was not the phantom-girl, Eva, but an older man with glasses. He sat observing them in what appeared to be the same section of room the girl had been in. It was like a rectangular frame with blurred edges; a window into some other world, that had infiltrated Alex’s field of vision. Partly here, partly there. It had to be a hallucination and therefore, Alex ignored it, but rested his hand on the rifle, just in case the man decided to jump from the hallucination into reality.
That was a crazy thought. Get a grip.
Try as he might, Alex was unable to dispel the illusion, however. The man remained in the fuzzy-edged window overlaying this world. After allowing Ernie, the store owner, to sneak up on them, Alex was determined to keep alert.
Grant watched the nomad, who Eva called Alex. Kneeling in the cell, he appeared to be praying, occasionally glancing around, even making eye contact once. Then he said to someone that evidently, he could see, but Grant could not, “Go to sleep, now. Goodnight. I love you, too.”
Must be the Henry and Annabelle Charles had mentioned.
He glanced at Grant once more before lying down on the cell floor. “I believe you can see me, Alex.” No response, as Grant expected. “I understand if you don’t want to communicate with me just yet. I’m not even sure you’ve conversed with Eva, but I know she’s spoken to you.”
Still nothing.
“You are in a place called Community. We are survivors who are basically farmers and scavengers. We found you and brought you here. You are being kept in quarantine so we can be sure you aren’t infected with anything that might pose a risk to the rest of us.”
Alex adjusted his position on the floor but remained silent.
“Eva comes to visit because she believes she’s supposed to help you or rescue you or something. It’s a fallacy…just like this Henry and Annabelle you often speak to. They aren’t real, just as Eva’s belief in leaving here with you isn’t real.” He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I can appreciate that this all might be overwhelming…that perhaps Henry and Annabelle were people you once knew, but…you were alone when we found you.”
Grant rose from the chair and moved to the door. “I think it’s time you both were rehabilitated and then hopefully moved to the farm.” He waited, hoping for some sign of coherence, but Alex was quiet and still.