Chapter III : Perhaps It's Time

Lunch passed without much fuss. Food was laid, what little they had for all seven of their house on a single slab of wood posted on four shoddy legs. Crammed together at it's edges they exchanged stories, reminisced and enjoyed the company of family and friends. When the soup ran out and the meat and bread was gone they all cleaned up, reset the table and prepared to continue their daily tasks.

Everyone except for two broke away to continue the chores laid out for the day, Darnell and Maurice. Shortly after finishing Samuel made his way to the front of the house just as they finished hitching their wagon to the horses. Maurice had already taken post at the driver's seat, reins gripped tightly in hand as he steadied the anxious stallions rearing to stretch their legs.

Samuel wondered what they could possibly be buying from Eli that required the wagon. Used to haul surplus crops that were traded or sold to anyone that didn't shoot the moment they met it rarely left it's cover inside the barn. Took them a full week to build it by hand too. Neither of them had much experience in that aspect. Darnell swears it was a lack of time to devote but Samuel knew better.

'You boys heading out?' Samuel asked watching Darnell mount the passenger's seat leaning back, arms flopped to his side.

'Gonna have to make it back before nightfall so either leave now or don't leave at all.' Darnell grunted and burped throwing a limp hand on his extended stomach. 'Uhhh, think I ate too much.'

'Sure you can travel on such a heavy stomach?'

'It'll digest by the time we get there.' Darnell said.

Samuel jumped onto the front bench peering at the empty wagon bed.

With a side eye Maurice asked, 'Looking for something?'

There was nothing in the bed. Did Darnell actually have enough to buy this mysterious “thing” he mentioned without something to trade? Or were his words simply meant to entice Samuel's imagination? With a slow shake of his head he dropped back down.

'Just wondering.' Sam admitted.

'Wondering- Pops didn't tell you what we're getting did he?' Maurice cracked a grin. 'It's a-'

Darnell's hand whipped out smacking the boy in the chest. 'It's not much of a gift if you ruin the surprise now is it?'

Samuel smiled. 'It's a gift now is it?'

'Something like that. A gift for the farm. Something we can both use.'

'A gift for the farm?' Their eyes met in a fierce stare. 'It's a horse drawn plow isn't it?'

Their stare lingered for a moment, silent and unyielding until Darnell broke away shouting, 'Fuck off!'

Samuel clapped his hands in applause at his correct guess. 'Fucking knew it! I've been wanting a plow for years. How did- Where did Eli find one?'

Darnell shrugged. 'Don't know. Man's strange. Ask and you receive. Asked him for one two months ago and something like twenty trades later he got one that someone hauled up from somewhere down South.'

'Lucky break....What's he asking?' Sam inquired knowing something that difficult to move would come with a weight price tag.

'Two hundred plus...'

'Two hundred plus, as in more than two hundred or two hundred firm...plus?' Sam pushed for clarification.

'Two hundred plus a favor.' Darnell clarified.

'What's the favor?'

Darnell shrugged. 'Dunno. He mentioned something about being prepared for it.'

'Talking guns and bullets prepared or something less violent?' Samuel asked worried they might find themselves owing favor in blood.

'Whatever it is, we'll deal with it. Right, Pops?' Maurice pulled the reins tight alerting the oblivious horses towing them.

'You got it...' Darnell answered softly trying to settle into a soft slumber eyes shut.

'Darnell Jackson! Don't think you can leave without saying goodbye!' Said a woman behind Samuel.

In an instant a single eye opened ever so slightly and Darnell took in the sight of his wife Elizabeth Jackson bounding down the gradual decline. For a second Samuel saw a glint of wonder fill his friend's eyes as if he was seeing her for the first time all over again.

She was a short woman at least when compared to Darnell. With a pointed chin and round face her head was topped by silky black hair woven into a french braid down her back that just nudged past the shoulder line. When you looked at her, her chocolate skin as glossy as glass, you wouldn't think her to be a mother of two. In a different time you would be forgiven mistaking her for a woman of college age.

Underneath the beauty that entrapped his friend however, was a fierce warrior. A soldier that had served alongside them almost since basic training. Samuel could almost here the constant jeers of their friends goading the two of them on. Never a question of “if” but rather “when” they eventually became a couple shortly before the war. Looking at the two of them made him smile from ear to ear when his thoughts decided to needlessly sour the joy he felt.

A part of him wished their old platoon could see them now. To see the life they had built. Instead they lay where they died, underneath crumbling skyscrapers. Their corpses picked clean of flesh till nothing but their bones remained littering the streets of Boston. Forgotten to the world.

'What's got you so sour?' Elizabeth smacked Sam's chest coaxing him from his dark thoughts.

'I'm not sour. Just can't wait to get that plow on those fields.' He answered to which Elizabeth's face turned down with disappointment.

She turned to Darnell. 'You told him?' She gave a gentle slap on his outstretched shin. He was quick to recoil.

'He guessed it!' His friend returned in defense.

'Uh-huh.' Liz adjusted the over sized white t-shirt she wore so that it sat comfortably from her shoulders. 'It can't be a surprise now, now can it. You boys really need to learn how to keep your mouths shut.'

'Dad's got a motor mouth.' Maurice said.

'So do you, Maurice! Don't think you're any better!' She chuckled. 'When are you two planning to be back?'

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

'Shortly before dark.' Darnell answered.

'Good, we'll have dinner waiting for you.' Liz said cracking a bright smile from ear to ear.

'I expect it to be hot when I get back.'

Liz's face turned sour. 'You'll get what you get...' She stated giving him a cold stare. You could see Darnell's soul slink back inside itself.

'Don't anger her Darnell, you know her food gets worse when she's angry.' Samuel stated earning himself a sideways glare from Liz.

'If you don't like my food when I'm angry then make it yourself. Or ask Helen to cook for your sorry ass!' She told him off loudly.

The lot of them paused briefly and Samuel could only shrug off Liz's words though harsh to hear there was no actual intent behind them. She was simply spouting harmless insults between friends that had seen it all together.

'Speaking of, where is Helen?' Samuel asked Liz.

'I think she's checking the garden.' She told him.

'Still? I realize the importance of getting that garden to actually thrive but-, all that work for little return. Then I suppose if she didn't toil away at it every day we'd have nothing but bread, corn and pork for breakfast, lunch and dinner.' Sam rationalized.

'Her hard work makes everything taste that much sweeter.' Darnell said.

'Liz, did I do anything to make her mad at me?' Sam asked.

'No. Why do you ask?'

'Barely seen her all day. Barely spoke a word to me during lunch either.' He said.

Liz just shrugged. 'If you want the answer you'll have to ask her. Not me. I'm not her messenger.'

Samuel gave a hefty sigh then eyed Darnell. 'Well, I guess I've got to ask the devil himself then.' Darnell chuckled at his words. 'You loading?'

With a solemn look Darnell lifted his shirt revealing a handgun tucked underneath his belt. Almost immediately Liz asked Maurice the same question and he too revealed a gun holstered at his side, hidden by his over-sized shirt.

'For more aggressive engagements.' Darnell chattered about reaching behind him. In his hand he drew out a thick cumbersome piece, it's double barrels cut short. 'This piece will ensure someone's going to have a really bad last day.'

'Just be careful out there you two.' Samuel looked at them with a worried expression, one that he wore every time someone left the farm. You never knew if you would see them again. He extended his hand out for Darnell who took it and nearly shook the thing off. Then after a brief nod with Maurice he turned and walked away as Liz gave them her final words before they set off.

She was like an angel some might say. With her beauty and sweet words Samuel might have been hard pressed to disagree. But where some saw an angel you'd see before your final moments, a soft light beckoning you into the afterlife, he saw an angel that would be putting you there. She was as beautiful as an angel but only if that angel was death.

Helen Clark was a strange person. With her wavy chestnut hair framing a heart shaped face with a pointed chin and fair skin she was truly a sight to behold in the ugliness of reality. But that's not to say she wasn't touched by it. On the outside her calm demeanor and good looks seemed to passively dismiss her as weak and brittle but although she was no soldier he'd seen her kill men with her bare hands. The same hands that swaddled and cuddled their son when he was just a babe. Those same hands now stained with the dirt from the garden she desperately tried to cultivate. That's precisely where he found her.

He had walked to the fields behind their house, a small section of the world she had cordoned off as her own. Where once it was a tangled heap of dead vegetation from fallen trees to dried grass vigorous cleanup efforts had transformed the small area into fertile ground. With constant attendance the ground's soil had become rich, a perfect plot for vegetables to grow, an essential part of rebuilding. But harsh weather and an even more unforgiving climate coupled with tenacious wildlife made the task nigh impossible. Yet she made it possible.

With a kind softened gaze from her sky blue eyes she would watch her garden every morning from the rear window. Mind concocting innumerable plans on how to assist her efforts and then every day she would strike the soil, mold it, plant seeds and suffer the heat alongside her crops as they grew. Samuel could not be more thankful for her or for Dylan; his greatest blessings.

'I feel like you spend more time in this garden then you do with me.' Samuel jested.

Passing through a thin wire fence that could barely withstand a stiff breeze he noted that eventually they would have to set the posts deeper and tighten the wire mesh. Of course that would only be after they expanded the garden from a twenty foot by twenty foot plot to thirty by thirty. He realized then she hadn't answered and her back was turned to him.

'Hun? Did you hear me?' He said weakly but his words were lost to the whistling wind passing through the wire fence.

A moment of dead air drifted by when she said in her usual kind voice, 'I'm angry with you.'

Samuel froze on the spot taken by surprise at hers words though she continued to work almost ignoring his presence completely aside from a cold sideways glance shot over her shoulder.

'What did I do now?' He asked.

'You know what you did.' She affirmed despite his lack of clue.

'I wouldn't be asking if I did.'

Helen locked the index and thumb of one hand on each individual finger of her opposite hand delicately pulling off the gloves she wore whilst working in the garden. Once one hand was partially free of the constrictive but sturdy material she switched hands until all the fingers became loose enough allowing her to remove the gloves. She did this in a slow and graceful motion while maintaining eye contact with him. Once both gloves were removed, she stacked them in one hand then slapped them flat on the soil.

'Dylan.' She said finally. 'He's upset.'

'Dylan's...upset? How come?' Samuel asked already feeling the dread this had something to do with him.

Helen shrugged her shoulders throwing her hands up in disbelief. 'I don't know- Maybe it has something to do with you!' Her voice grew harsh.

'Me?' He pointed to himself index thrust into his chest. 'What did I do?'

Helen sighed. She closed her eyes taking a deep breath, held it for a moment then exhaled through her nostrils flaring on expiration.

'Why don't you teach him?' She asked him touching on the one subject he hated most of all.

He scoffed. 'Really? This again? You know my stance on this.'

'Maybe it's for the best that he learns, Samuel. This can't go on forever.'

'No. No! I've told you! Dylan's future isn't behind the barrel of a gun.'

'It's not safe, Sam.' Helen reasoned, 'Nothing is like it used to be. He can't remain sheltered from what is out there!'

Samuel took a staggered step backwards running his right hand over the thickening growth of stubble taking residence on his jawline. 'I'm not sheltering him Helen. I'm trying to guide him down the path that doesn't involve him becoming a murderer. Or worse; getting himself killed!'

She took a moment, looked over her garden then back at him. With worry in her eyes she stood and walked up to him placing her hand on his cheek.

'I know what you want for him. How admirable it is that you're trying to build a better world but the better world isn't here yet.'

Samuel looked her straight in the eyes. 'But it is. There are communities popping up every day. Survivors banding together to build something better. Trade is more open, strangers don't just out right kill each other before even a single word has been spoken. Every day the world gets better. I know it does.'

Helen smiled with all the love in her heart. 'I love you Samuel. You and your unending optimism even in the worst of times. But this isn't the world we're talking about. It's our family. The world can wait. We can't. Dylan can't. The world isn't quite where it should be to have the luxury of not knowing what it feels like when a gun you've pointed at someone goes off and the consequence that goes with it.'

'I don't want our son to bear that weight. Whether he becomes a doctor or lawyer or even a mechanic. His generation and those that come after will be the ones rebuilding.' Sam told her further clasping her outstretched hand in his hand further settling his cheek in her palm.

'Funny how you don't want him to bear the weight of killing yet expect him to bear the pressure of rebuilding the world. It's not like it will happen in a day. Or alone. He will have to make choices, hard choices; choices worse than ending a person's life. How do you expect him to face those?'

Samuel pulled her hand away. 'And you think he'll be able to make those choices because he knows how to handle a gun?'

'No. But he'll know how to defend himself so he can actually live to make those choices.' Helen told him noticing the fear in his eyes. 'Are you afraid if he knows how it's as if you're inviting the inevitable?'

'Sometimes it feels that way.' Samuel admitted feeling his heart grow heavy.

Helen saw it finally. In her husband's eyes she saw her son Dylan, but it wasn't Dylan, rather a moment passed where for a second she saw what troubled Samuel. An unimaginable pain flooded him.

'Are you afraid that he might turn into you?'

Samuel answered simply, 'Yes.'

'It wasn't your fault. You know that. You did what you had to.' She told him proudly wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his chest.

'I know.' Samuel locked his arms around her giving her a kiss on the head. 'I know.' He repeated.

His gaze swung past the garden, past their lands marked by posts. Beyond what was theirs sat an empty and desolate land. The wasteland where death thrived in the absence of life. Though his hope told him there was more and there would be more one day, all he saw now was an endless land. It was from this land that Death came.