《The Angriest Man In The Wasteland》


 The Angriest Man In The Wasteland

    The Angriest Man in the Wasteland


    When the world ended it was not the sound of bombs or gunfire that people remembered. It was not the words of politicians or martyrs. The only thing people remembered was the screaming. Because after civilization ended and the ruin''s of mankind''s greatest feats were left to rot all anyone ever did was scream.


    That night, as the cold wind laced through the rotten shack in which he lay, it carried with it a familiar sound. A shrill cry that chilled his bones more than the cold wind of Maine at night. It was a woman''s cry. She screamed as loud as she could begging for help.


    Samuel Clark lay wrapped in his blanket in the shack, listening to the woman scream. The unfortunate soul must have run into the pack of raiders he had spotted a few hours before sunset. That meant there were at least six of them, well armed but desperate none the less. Everyone was desperate now.


    She continued to scream, her piercing cry wrenching his heart. It was almost possible to tell the course of events just from her voice. Were they attacking her just to take what she had, to collar her and sell her as a slave or were they succumbing to lust and raping the woman. From the repeated screams of "stop" Samuel could only imagine it being the latter. Besides enslavement the only way her tragedy was ending was if someone helped her or the raiders bashed her skull open.


    Anger rose in him. Samuel slipped a hand out from under his blanket and pulled close his backpack, on it''s side hung a revolver, his only gun. Spilling open the side pocket three bullets fell out, the last of what he had for his journey South. Plus the six in his revolver meant he only had nine bullets plus a rusty long knife to fight six individuals.


    The odds were against him. Outgunned and outnumbered left his decision to act wavering. Even if he got the drop on them, even if every bullet hit, every hit a kill who is to say with all the raiders weaponry they even have bullets. What if he went through all that effort and find between all of them none of them had a bullet, it''s happened before. That would leave Samuel desperately lacking on his important journey South.


    What if things went down horribly, even if he killed them all what if they had bullets? What if he was wounded? Wounds take time to heal, if they don''t he''ll die. Medicine was a valuable commodity and the skill to use it more so. There was no one like that around, not in two days time. These were risks he could not take. His own journey was too important. The woman had to fend for her own.


    Samuel pushed away his backpack making sure to keep the revolver side to him, always have a weapon in arms reach and if it''s a gun, always keep it loaded. He wrapped himself back up in his blanket and turned so that he stared through the gaps in the wood planks towards the sound.


    She continued to scream through the night and Samuel didn''t sleep until a single gunshot cut her crying voice short. When the world was finally silent that''s when he heard them, far afield, their laughter was weak but sent shivers down his spine. They were laughing. The sick men who raped and tortured her were laughing as they did it. Samuel closed his eyes feeling them wet with tears, face red and hot with anger. Eventually sleep took him and his dreams lead him away from reality.


    The next morning fog had rolled across the area, the sun barely awake as it peaked over the horizon Samuel was quick wake up. It had only been a few hours of rest but it would make all the difference come noon. He was desperate to get there but not inexperienced enough to arrive tired as a dog barely able to stand straight.


    He woke early for one other reason. He walked through the burnt out forest, a small underbrush of new saplings finally striving for life slapping his thighs, Samuel fell upon the scene he could only imagine.


    Two corpses lay in the dirt. A man and a woman. The man couldn''t have been older than twenty five, born just before the world ended, old enough to remember the world before but not to enjoy it''s comforts. His skull had been bashed in spilling his brain across a flat stone. What unsettled him most of all was that he was faced towards the woman, as if he was made to watch. Samuel wondered why he hadn''t heard the man the night before. Sweeping his index and middle finger blindly in the man''s mouth he pulled out a rag.


    ''They gagged you...'' Samuel glanced towards the woman. ''They made you watch as they raped her.''


    Samuel approached the woman sweeping away her blonde hair to reveal startling blue eyes that would make any man fall over in love. Were it not for the pool of blood underneath her head she would have almost appeared to be resting. But then there was the back of her skull, missing, blown away by the bullet that ended her life. What a terrible end. She appeared no younger than twenty-two


    Her clothes were ripped to shreds. Deep bruise lines lined her body were they had been violently torn away. Whatever dress she had been wearing was already in tatters before the violence.


    ''You were very beautiful.'' Samuel commented sweeping the hair further back away from her neck to reveal thick scar tissue wrapped around it. ''You were a slave.''


    Curiosity grew and he worked his way down to her feet inspecting them closely. Deep and fresh lacerations cut into the soles of her feet. It wasn''t uncommon for people to be barefoot, that just meant you had to be extra careful where you stepped.


    ''You didn''t have the luxury. Did you?'' He looked up at her then at the man. He hadn''t noticed it before but the man was dressed in thick leathers a common form of protection if not impractical to a bullet. Then he understood the signs almost as well as if he''d spoken to them.


    ''Thick leather. The way they made him watch.'' He looked at the woman. ''You were running away together. A raider and a slaver girl in love.''


    Samuel approached the young woman and closed her eyes doing the same to the man.


    ''You took your chances. And your luck ran out. I''m sorry.'' Samuel sighed straightening his shirt readjusting his backpack questioning his decision to not act. But what''s done is done.


    Samuel scratched his graying beard. ''There was a time where I would bury the two of you, but that time is long gone. I have somewhere to be now. I didn''t know either of you but you tried to return some innocence to this fucked world so I''ll give you some parting words. Rest well, the both of you. Love each other wherever you are. Your struggle is over now.''The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    The noon sun clung to the gray sky, hanging there drunk above the ruins of what was once a proud town. At one point in time it had a name, a populace, but all that''s left of that were three random letters on a rotting wood sign and a thousand shallow graves.


    The revolver bucked in his hand, it''s hot gas escaping, piercing barking ring dancing down the halls of whatever building they had occupied. The raider in his hand, gripped at the neck, convulsed and slumped to the ground, his skull blown wide open, staining the blackened walls red.


    A collective cry of alarm rose in the building as his friends came to investigate the sound. None of them knew Samuel was there, perhaps in their arrogance they never once considered that someone would dare attack them. They never met someone like Samuel Clark.


    One of the first to take the corner stood in disbelief at the sight of his friend, laying slump against a counter, eyes glossed over, what''s left of his scrambled brain leaking out of his skull. That same raider''s eyes grew wide in terror when he noticed Samuel level his revolver at him, then again it bucked. A white hot glow extended from the barrel ejecting a solid slug of lead that bored through the bridge of the man''s nose and exited out the back spraying the room in fragments of skull and spurts of blood.


    Then they all knew. They were under attack.


    Samuel didn''t hear him come down the stairs but a misplaced shotgun blast was all he needed for warning. Buckshot peppered the wall, tearing away wood and paint it left holes as big as his fist in the framework. Had the raider only taken an extra second to insure the target was in his sight Samuel would have been blown clean open. But now he knew where the raider was.


    The fool advanced on him attempting to take swift vengeance for his fallen friends. What he didn''t know was that Samuel had snuck around the opposite corner, pulled back the hammer and given an open shot took out the raider''s ankle sending him flailing to the ground in pain. He was quick to capitalize rushing the man before he could recover his wits. Samuel drew his knife and drove it through the man''s left eye killing him instantly.


    Gunfire filled the room as bullets zipped overhead. The remaining raiders had arrived downstairs armed with automatic rifles that tore the room to shreds. Only by chance did Samuel not get hit but it was a chance he wasn''t going to waste. Grabbing the dead raider''s shotgun he slipped behind a shredded couch peeked over the edge on the advancing raiders and without regard of the risk unloaded his revolver into two of them. Though one crumpled, dead, the other suffered a minor flesh wound that only enhanced his motivation to end Samuel''s life.


    The remaining two turned and pulled the trigger until neither had any ammunition left in their magazines. Thankfully for Samuel he was much better at keeping track of his resources. Emptying his revolver and loading his final three bullets he prepared for what could be his last battle. To his joy he was happy to see two shells remained in the shotgun.


    With one deep breath as he heard their magazine''s hit the floor Samuel turned away from the couch, revolver in his holster, shotgun nestled up against his shoulder and cheek. He found the first raider in his sight and pulled the trigger. Buckshot spread across the man''s chest killing him instantly.


    The final raider, the one Samuel had wounded was quick to respond. Rather than try to reload he dropped his gun and pulled a pistol he had tucked behind his belt. In Samuel''s haste he pulled the trigger too early destroying a cabinet behind the man but it was enough to throw off his aim letting the bullets flying harmlessly to his right. Just as the raider, Samuel dropped his gun, drew his revolver and fired two rounds at the reeling man. He dropped.


    The world grew silent again until a familiar scream ruined the silence. Samuel rounded the shredded furniture spotting a trail of blood extending down the hall. Carefully he followed, his last bullet ready and willing to fire. Into the darkness of the house he went following the trail until he spotted it''s end.


    The raider had crawled away in pain, his screams now a pained whimper as he turned the handle of the basement door. It opened revealing an infinite black but before the wounded man could disappear into it''s depths Samuel drove his boot into the small of the man''s back pinning him just so that his arms and head dangled over the first step. In one swift motion he bent down, put the barrel against the back of his head and fired.


    The raider''s head jerked as the bullet flew through his spine and out his mouth. Shattered teeth clattered to the wooden step, a trail of blood pooling down at each step, cascading over to the next until it found the basement''s cement floor.


    Another moment of silence took the house. Behind the thin veil of quiet he heard a small, pitiful voice crying. Samuel''s heart dropped for it was the voice of a child somewhere in the darkness of the basement. Swallowing hard he disappeared into it''s depths.


    When next he emerged, the child in his arms he made his way for the exit as quickly as he could.


    ''It''s alright, Daddy''s got you. Daddy''s here.'' He spoke to the child, his heart filled with fear, terror, excitement, joy, more emotions than he knew to handle.


    But when the light of the noon sun poking through the back door finally swept over them he saw in his arms he held a little girl. His run slowed to a walk. He left the building feeling the hot sun creep across his skin matching the fury and disappoint boiling in his heart.


    Though he held so many questions as he stared at the frail young girl in his arms none of them came out. Her eyes remained closed, the rise and fall of her tiny chest barely noticeable, it was as if she didn''t even notice she''d been freed from the monsters that chained her.


    He stood in the sun, putting his mouth to her ear asking if she can hear him.


    Meekly she nodded, eyes opening up just enough to take him in.


    ''Papa?'' She said weakly, her soft voice tearing his heart to pieces.


    She was not his child. She wasn''t supposed to be there. Countless dead at his hands, how long he''d been searching all for this one moment, to find someone that wasn''t his son. He should have felt angry at that but he couldn''t. Staring down at her he smiled.


    ''I''m here. I''m here, baby.'' He pet her matted dirty hair noticing the specks of dried blood.


    ''You came for me, Papa.''


    ''Shh-shh.'' He pulled out his canteen giving her some water but the girl''s arms had thinned so much she could barely move them so he fed her like he had his own son when he was a baby. ''Rest, baby. Rest. Papa''s here. I''m here. Just save your strength. Everything''s going to be okay.''


    ''Everything''s okay when Papa''s here.'' The girl pressed her head against his chest, blue eyes staring at the sky. ''It''s so beautiful.''


    Samuel felt his heart in his knees. Tears began to crawl down his dirty cheeks. He sat down with the girl in his arms, rocking her back and forth as she stared at the sky. Humming her a nursery tune that he couldn''t remember the words to but would never forget the song he peacefully stroked her hair.


    ''Papa''s here, Baby. Papa''s here.''


    She buried her head even more into his chest, ''I love you, Papa.''


    Samuel''s heart skipped a beat and he did all he could to stop himself from breaking out into tears.


    ''I love you too, Baby.'' He said to her as she died in his arms, her frail body simply unable to continue.


    Samuel Clark sat for a moment remembering the pain of his own loss and how miserable he felt that he was unable to save the little girl. He asked himself how things might have turned out had he been faster. But the answer was always the same. She was better off wherever she was now.


    When finally he had finished her grave and the little girl was at rest his pain and empathy disappeared and anger took over. Staring out at the ruined world his jaw clenched in fury, clenched fists shaking he swore someone would pay for all the wrong in this world. Someone took his family from him and they would pay for it even if it meant burning the world down to do it.


    But first; someone had some explaining to do.

 Two Years Ago

    Chapter One: Two Years Ago


    Samuel Clark stood proudly in the afternoon sun wielding a grin that pulled back on his thickening five o''clock shadow. Both forearms lay cross over the handle of a spade he thrust into the dark brown dirt. Fierce blue eyes took in the rotating lines of dark soil and gray earth that crossed his fields. Dozens of them, each proudly tilled by his hands or the hands of his partner, Darnell Jackson, a man who he served with during the War.


    As he stood there admiring his work, daylight burning away, drenching his white shirt and jeans in sweat that same man came up behind him with a burlap sack of seeds clutched in his scarred hands. An explosion during the siege of Boston had soaked the soldier''s hands in a burning chemical agent that robbed him of his skin leaving pink tracks of scar tissue on the back of his hands. Darnell''s son, Maurice, affectionately called him ¡°Old Pink Hand¡±.


    ''Can''t believe this is all we got left.'' Darnell held the bag before his eyes, worried at the sight of the once giant bag reduced to a morsel small enough to fit in his palm.


    He wore as he always did a black polo and a pair of army issued pants, camouflage and all. Even kept his scalp shaven tight to avoid his hair ever growing into the disco afro it was destined to become.


    ''Think it''ll be enough?'' Samuel asked him conferring to his experience growing up on a farm.


    ''If everything goes according to plan, yes.''


    ''But nothing ever goes according to plan.'' Samuel spat carefully aiming away from the field letting loose a thick gob of sputum that landed on a nearby pail clinging to it''s rusted side as it dripped down to the dirt.


    Darnell gave a deep sigh. ''Guess I''ll head to Eli''s and pick up some more.''


    Samuel noticed his friend give a disheartened look.


    ''Something wrong Darnell?''


    ''Man, it''s just, Eli''s strange. He still acts skittish around black folk. All these years and he treats me like a stranger.''


    ''Eli''s a strange man in general, Darnell. You should have seen that by now. What sort of man collects children toys in the middle of the apocalypse?''


    ''The strange kind.'' Darnell nodded.


    Samuel spat once more then turned to his friend. ''I can go for you.''


    With a deep grunt and a few cracked knuckles Darnell took a deep breath slowly exhaling the air through his nostrils.


    ''Nah, Nah. I got this. Elizabeth wants me to go in anyways for something special. Just hope I have enough.''


    Without a second thought Samuel reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of spare change, which before the war would have amounted to just under two dollars but had more value after the war ended. He extended his coin laden hand to Darnell.


    ''I''m not taking your money.'' Darnell backed away acting as if the change was toxic.


    ''It''s your farm, technically, it''s your money.'' Samuel persisted.


    ''We''re not playing this game.''


    ''What game?''


    ''Sammy, put that hand back down your pants and grab your dick. I''m not taking your money.'' Darnell warned him preparing to smack him with the seed bag.


    Sam took one look at the money in his hand shrugged and put it back.


    ''Suit yourself.'' He turned back to the soil ready to till one last row crunching a few numbers in his head when he turned back to Darnell who began to plant the seed. ''I know you have money and things to trade, what could you be getting that costs so damn much?''


    ''That, my grizzled friend, is a secret.'' Darnell thrust his hand into the soil depositing the seed as deep as he could manage careful not to settle it too far in. A delicate technique Samuel could never master he was happy to have his friend there. Though it was Darnell''s farm, it was Samuel''s land but together they made the whole system work.


    ''Can you believe this is our twelfth harvest?''


    ''You know, after all the shit we''ve been through. I can believe it. We deserve this.''


    Sam gave a light chuckle casting his gaze over his shoulder. Behind them, away from the fields sat two large wooden buildings. A barn for their equipment and the two horses they were able to wrangle into service and one large log built house. In that testament of persistence and enduring spirit both his and Darnell''s family lived.


    ''Compared to our lives before this I''d say we are the lucky ones.''


    ''Lucky is a medium-rare steak with exceptional marbling and a nice cold dark tall one.'' Darnell licked his lips almost tasting the food and beer.


    ''You''re many things, Darnell. But you have shit taste in steak. It''s rare or nothing at all. The perfect steak is the one a skilled veterinarian could still save.'' Sam stated upturning the burnt topsoil.


    ''You''re wrong.''


    ''I ain''t wrong.''


    ''You''re wrong, Sammy. Just accept it. You should be used to it right now.'' All Darnell could do was laugh, his deep voice heard from miles around.


    ''Prove to me medium-rare is better.''


    ''Find me a cow first and I will.''


    Samuel bit his cheek, paused, then stared at his black boots. ''I can''t remember the last time I even saw one. Can''t remember the last time I had steak either.''


    ''I can.'' Darnell sat back on his calves wiping dirt off on his camouflage print pants smearing it deep into the fabric at the thigh. Already Samuel could imagine the scolding he would receive from Elizabeth with that nasty habit. ''It was that night. We were in the bunker, Jeff and Allie were sitting at the table, we were off to the side waiting for the quartermaster to come through with food. We hadn''t eaten for three days, got stuck on the front.''


    Samuel did his best to recall his own life but the times then were so different it felt like a fairy-tale lived through another person''s eyes. Try as he might the memories would not come no matter.


    Darnell caught the empty look in his friend''s eyes seeing the memory vacant from his thought. ''It was the Siege of Boston. The final push. Don''t you remember that?''


    ''Truth be told, Darnell. I don''t. Even if I did, I''m not sure I''d want to.'' He admitted continuing to churn the soil, clearing away the top to reveal fresher dirt below.


    For a moment Darnell just stared at him, his big brown eyes reading his friend''s thoughts like an open book. Of course neither of them needed to say anything to convey their troubled souls, and Darnell, knowing of his past, did not pry.


    ''Well, you might have forgotten but I remember it well. It was supposed to be the last push, we were dead on our feet, the whole platoon just couldn''t wait to leave. Then the Quartermaster came by, told us it was our ¡°Special treat¡± to give us the strength to push through the Chinese lines. More like a final meal before the grinder, '' Darnell chuckled touching both indexes and thumbs together estimating the size of the steak, it wasn''t very large, ''Handed each and every one of us a steak covered in mushrooms and sauce. And I''m not talking this tiny dollop of sauce like some sissy just tapped the bottle, it was drenched in the stuff. Properly savaged by that shit. I ain''t ever see Jeff''s eyes light up so much I tell you. He was a different kind of man he was. Until he bit into it.''


    ''Tasted like fucking plastic. No amount of sauce or mushrooms could save that fucking hockey puck.'' Samuel spat out, his lips curled in disgust.


    A smile slowly crept across Darnell''s face ''No. Nothing could. But we still ate it. Together. One last time.''


    ''One last time....'' Samuel muttered.


    Darnell pushed a closed fist against his mouth releasing a horrid cough that must have felt like needles shoved down his throat for his next words came out coarse and strained. ''Shit. I think I need some water.'' He stood brushing himself off the fine puffs of dust clouds rocketing from his shirt shimmering in the bright afternoon sun. ''You want any?''This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    ''I''m good.'' Sam continued to drive the spade into the dirt carefully turning it away revealing the fresh soil underneath.


    Darnell wiped the sweat from his brow, wetting the dirt on his arms into a smudged texture. He glanced at the sky, the unceasing sun''s stare burning the landscape all around shrouding everything in it''s orange glow. He shrugged and began to wonder off towards the house.


    Their house was a mismatch of wooden walls and scrap metal. Anything rigid and sturdy they could get their hands on. Even car hoods bolted to the side served as walls, although it''s integrity was never in question the sound of rain hitting it''s side at first a calming sound quickly became overrated. Despite this the sheets of metal proved invaluable in supporting the house''s frame.


    After Apollo had turned the largest trees to ash few remained large enough with which to work besides twigs. Unless of course you braved the hostile lands to the North where Apollo''s touch could not be felt. A place where rumors swirled of snow and fresh water with fields of endless grass stretching from horizon to horizon.


    As Samuel continued to till the soil, digging out of the world his own little mark in the desolate wasteland he couldn''t help but wonder if those stories were true. Tales gifted by travelers whom they would shelter spoke of this as fact. To his ears fairy tale stories brushed aside by the horrors that Apollo had brought, horrors he had seen first hand. Still the thought left a small warmth in his heart that maybe one day there was a paradise from their families. Then he heard a loud thump come from the barn across the field and he remembered the fear the wasteland instilled in all things.


    Suddenly the shovel was hoisted over his head, cocked over his shoulder dripping the last remnants of dirt that clung helpless to it''s rusted face onto the back of his neck. Samuel approached the barn, a behemoth of scrap and wood. Logs for posts, metal sheets for walls with whatever they had laying around tying the mess together. His own son, Dylan, desperately wanted to paint it red like the ones in the books his mother scavenged, a dark part of him joked how it would soon be red if this was a bandit in his barn.


    Samuel stood before the door ready to slide it open. ''''If you''ve come to steal there ain''t nothing here that''s worth your life. If food is what you''re after I''m happy to share what we can with you.''


    There came no answer. For one moment then, a dark thought crept into his mind, a remainder really of who he was, how he hadn''t killed anyone in a long time. And yet, despite all he''d accomplish towards building a peaceful life, he was more than willing to do so again.


    Taking the handle in one hand, he felt a war cry build in his throat and he let loose his blood curdling yell coupling it with the screeching sound of grinding metal from the sliding door that would have made any man cower in fear.


    Instead there was no man, no stranger even, just two shocked children sitting in the middle of the barn playing in the dust with handmade toys. Their young faces stared at him with stunned expressions and Samuel paused until finally they erupted into laughter that caused the two hitched horses at the far end to neigh almost mockingly at the man.


    ''Dammit Dylan! Why didn''t you answer me?'' Samuel yelled at his son who continued to laugh forcing him to turn to the other child, Diamond, Darnell''s daughter who was only a few months younger than Dylan. ''Diamond why didn''t you say anything? Your father raised you better than to not answer.''


    ''I''m sorry, Mr. Clark. Dylan said it would be funny if we didn''t say anything.'' She admitted staring at the ground.


    ''Not funny, Diamond. Dangerous.'' Samuel hissed the word through his teeth unable to properly emphasize the meaning of that word.


    ''Come on dad. How is that dangerous?'' Dylan said his laughter dying down.


    Samuel stared at his son almost stunned but not surprised at Dylan''s lack of understanding of just how dangerous the world had become. Born after Apollo, born after they''d found a place to settle he had not seen the struggle to survive, he had not witnessed the earth run red with blood. Diamond hadn''t either. Only Maurice was old enough to remember and that hardened him.


    For a moment he wondered if it was the right choice to block out the reality of the world, to allow them to keep living in their small peaceful part of life. Sure, they learned that things were different from the world described in the pages of their history books but they hadn''t lived it. As much as he wanted to shatter their illusion to better prepare them it was precisely why he worked so hard so that such a time will never come again.


    He let out a deep sigh, ''You guys just- just need to be careful....What are you doing in here anyway?''


    ''Playing.'' Diamond responded cordially.


    ''Playing?'' Samuel bit his cheek. ''Well, what are you playing?''


    ''We''re not playing. We''re talking.'' Dylan corrected her.


    ''About?''


    ''About the War.''


    ''The war, huh?'' Samuel spat on the ground feeling the grit of gathering dust like sandpaper against his teeth.


    ''What was it like? You were there, weren''t you Dad? The Siege of Boston! The Skyline Blitz of New York! Were you ever overseas in China?'' The excitement in Dylan''s voice made him uncomfortable.


    Samuel stood quietly half tempted to snatch away his son''s books and burn them. To forget the past. To forget the things he had done. Those final few books, pushed out for propaganda shortly before Apollo. They spoke of heroic deeds, grand strategies and the noble acts of men and women fighting for their country. Never once mentioning the massacres, the genocide the absolute desperation for both sides to fight a losing war where even the victor will have lost everything. And then of course, the coup de gras, Apollo, nearly wiping out life on Earth.


    ''Yes, I was at Boston. Me and Old Pink Hand.'' Samuel scratched his chin. ''It was a different time then.''


    Dylan seemed displeased with his rather sparse answer. Showing it with a twisted face like he''d smelled something foul.


    ''And?'' The boy tried to push him further but the stories he sought were Samuel''s nightmares.


    ''Don''t push it Dylan!'' Diamon urged him but his son, much like his father was if anything, tenacious.


    ''I want to know more.'' Dylan said.


    ''Then read some more books. Your mother found plenty for you.''


    ''But they can''t tell me what I want to know.''


    ''What do you want to know?'' Samuel asked cocking his eyebrow.


    When Dylan hesitated to answer Diamond spoke up for him. ''He wants to know what it''s like to kill someone.''


    Samuel first looked at her confused, then at Dylan, and for a few seconds it hadn''t really struck him what she had said until when it did all he could utter was, ''Huh.''


    Collecting his thoughts he continued, ''What on Earth would make you even think about that?''


    Dylan averted his gaze his hands beginning to fidget with the buttons of his shirt. Bits of dirt that had collected from the day''s playing about fell from the eyelets onto his jeans.


    ''Maurice''s been having his nightmares again. Nightmares about Saco. And it''s made me wonder what it''s like.'' Dylan explained but it still did not settle well in his stomach.


    ''Saco? Oh, Christ....'' A dreadful feeling sat in Samuel stomach.


    Saco, Maine. Maurice must have been six at the time. They were all at a refugee camp, Apollo had just finished destroying the world and the country collapsed. Supplies ran out and things got desperate. Darnell gave his son a gun for protection, which he used to kill a man that got the better of his father. That moment has stuck with him ever since. Perfectly functional young man but nightmares can shave away even the sturdiest man''s sanity. Sleep is the only refuge from this shit world, it does no man any good to fear falling asleep.


    ''He''s having them again?'' Samuel turned to Diamond. ''Does your father know?''


    ''No. It''s just started a few nights ago. I''ve been trying to calm him down but he''s always angry when he wakes up.''


    ''Has he gotten violent?'' Samuel asked.


    ''No.'' She answered.


    ''Hmm.'' He speared the shovel into a mound of dirt in the corner then turned back to them. ''I''ll talk to Maurice maybe I can help him. As for you two-,'' He sighed staring at Dylan specifically, ''You want to know what it''s like to kill someone?''


    His son nodded slowly, anticipating his words.


    ''The problem with that, son, is it''s different for everybody. No one person can tell you what it''s like to kill someone. Some people are heartless, some suffer for years after, like Maurice.''


    ''Are you heartless?'' Dylan asked innocently.


    ''I love you. I love your mother. I love Diamond and her family. Does that make me heartless?''


    ''No.''


    Samuel took a deep breath. ''I have done a lot of things. Things that I''m not proud of. But everything I have done, I have done to make sure you and everyone that comes after you will not have to live through the sins of their fathers. I realize that probably doesn''t make a lot of sense to you-,'' He paused waiting for Dylan to nod in agreement which he did, ''But it''s what it is. I want a better life for you. Do you understand that? A life where you won''t ever have to think about what it''s like to kill. Got it?''


    Although it was not the most direct answer his son was hoping for it seemed to have done the job. Dylan nodded approvingly though you could see it in his eyes he remained curious none the less. Perhaps that was a conversation for another day when Dylan was older.


    ''Alright, you two wash up and get ready.'' Samuel''s eyes flicked to Diamond. ''I''m sure your mother has lunch ready or could use some help finishing.''


    ''Yes, Sir.'' Diamond stood brushing off her jeans and white blouse. She pulled Dylan to his feet. ''I think Maurice is at the river if you want to talk to him.''


    ''Thanks. Tell your father I''ve gone to get him in case he wonders where I went.''


    ''I will.'' She said leaving the barn so that just Dylan and Samuel stood there alone.


    ''Dad?''


    ''Yes?''


    ''Are you going to tell mom?''


    Samuel gave a light chuckle, ''Of course I am. We share no secrets.'' He saw the fear grow behind his son''s eyes. Clasping Dylan''s right shoulder, ''I know she can be terrifying, she keeps me in line, but your Mother wants more than me for you to be safe and to bloom into an incredible person, someone who can change the world for the better.''


    ''Like those moms that want their sons to be doctors in all my books? It''s a bit clich¨¦ isn''t it?'' Dylan winked causing a wide grin to pull across Samuel''s face. Taking the boy''s head between both hands, cupping the hair he began to ruffle it vigorously.


    ''Don''t you think it''s time for a hair cut?'' Samuel asked making the boy chuckle. ''I''m sure Elizabeth would have no problem giving you a hair cut.''


    ''I''d rather her not.'' Dylan admitted.


    ''Then you best go help your mother with lunch. Then do your chores.'' He said watching Dylan''s nose wrinkle in distaste. ''Hmm?''


    ''Chores... Do I have to?''


    Samuel took a deep breath and explained. ''Yes. Everyone has to pitch in. Even Diamond does her part. Working together is what''s going to rebuild the world.'' From a nearby hook he plucked a wooden bucket offering it to Dylan. ''Fetch some water from the well. I''m sure your mother could use it.''


    Staring at the aging pail it took his son a moment to relent and accept the bucket taking it in both hands. Curiously tipping it''s edge he watched dust roll off it''s lip disappearing into the air long before hitting the ground. With a quick jerk he dislodged the remaining dust and looked up at his father.


    Samuel stared down at his son, ''You going?''


    The boy gave a disappointed frown. ''Yeah, I guess.''


    ''Come on. Git.'' He told Dylan who gave a huff accepting that playtime was over and wandered out of the barn to the well Samuel had dug years ago. It had been the crux that cemented their decision to stay.


    Samuel watched his son leave, shoulders drooped low lacking the same vigor apparent in his small frame when he did things he enjoyed. Dylan, still just a boy, had a lot of growing up to do but that time had not come yet. It filled him with a sense of fulfillment to know his son even had the option to be disappointed towards simple things such as chores. Perhaps the world was finally returning to what it once was.

 Lessons In

    Chapter Two: Lessons In


    Maurice Jackson was not a stranger to struggle. He knew strife as well as some men once knew their favorite baseball teams down to the tiniest fact. That''s how he knew how to survive, by knowing how to survive in the best of times and the worst of times. Darnell had done a marvelous job teaching his son those tenants, but he never did well teaching the ¡°Why¡± of survival. Why wake up? Why bother? Why farm? Why do what you do?


    As Samuel made his way towards the river south of their home the answers to these questions began to bloom in his mind though he was sure the moment it came time to open his mouth and preach they would all flutter away in the hot wind.


    Down a few strings of overgrown trails and he found himself standing on an embankment hugging the shoulder of the river. It''s powerful grumble danced through the path it had cut in the earth, splitting a town in two somewhere up the bend where it vaulted a crumbling dam.


    He looked right then left searching for a sign of Maurice''s presence. But all he saw was a lone fishing pole, locked between two stones, behind it a thicket of bushes. From the green flora emerged a tall slender man, his bare chest bulging with muscle trying to redo the belt buckle tucked underneath the tied long sleeves of his shirt wrapped around his waist. He had yet to notice Sam.


    ''Maurice.'' He said causing the man to jump.


    The young man, his eighteenth birthday a memory still fresh in his mind looked up with two wide brown eyes filled with shock then relief. He extended from his hunched posture taking his full height. At six foot three, body thick with chiseled muscle from years of working the farm alongside them he was an imposing sight. But what made him truly dangerous was his wit. The raw intelligence and curiosity that drove him. He was by all accounts the type of generation that should have inherited the Earth, if the old and ignorant hadn''t destroyed it first. Now he suffers the sins of his father and his own self imposed torment.


    ''Can''t a man take a piss without someone bothering him?'' The young man said sheepishly returning to his pole. At it''s base he sat down, the pole extending from his ankles, knees locked at a right angle ready to swing his body forth and catch the rod at a moments notice.


    ''You were done weren''t you?'' Sam asked him joining the young man by sitting beside him resting the small of his back against a rock.


    ''Well, uh, yeah...still doesn''t mean a man doesn''t want his privacy.''


    ''Is that why you''re out here alone?'' Samuel prodded knowing full well Maurice would never openly talk about Saco unless pushed to it.


    ''Just out here trying to catch dinner.'' He pointed back to a bucket just up the embankment, held in place by rocks piled up it''s sides. ''Caught a few already.''


    ''You always were good at fishing.''


    ''Nah. It''s not hard when there''s no one else to catch the fish. They breed faster than we do. Rivers full of them.''


    ''I never was one for fishing. Something about sitting here,'' Samuel took a handful of dirt in his right hand then tossed it away, ''Dirt getting everywhere. I''d rather sow a field, raise some chickens. Not sit here and this.'' He fanned his hands out waving them over the picturesque scene.


    Maurice stared at Samuel for a moment then turned his attention back to the river.


    ''It''s peaceful here.'' The young man said to him. ''Nobody. Not you, not my father. Not my mom. Not anybody else. Just me and this pole.''


    ''Yeah, it is peaceful.'' Samuel agreed.


    ''Why you out here?''


    Sam took a good long look at Maurice, his best friend''s son. A man he had helped deliver into this cruel excuse for a world. A twinge of regret gnawed in his stomach, he knew, as he always knew, Maurice, Dylan and Diamond, their children should have set their sights on space, furthering human progress. Now one of the brightest of his generation was left sitting on a river bank fishing for food.


    ''Diamond told me you''re still having nightmares.'' Sam told him bluntly.


    Maurice cocked his head at him biting his cheek, ''You sure you want to do this?'' He said implying the verbal battle that often results when he opens up.


    ''It still bothers you?'' Sam asked kindly noticing Maurice tense up. The fishing had distracted him from his thoughts but once that calm was shaken you could see his eyes grow hollow.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Maurice nodded. ''You''re saying it shouldn''t? Every time I close my eyes...I see it. That man standing over dad, the silver pipe in his hand dripping blood. I can still feel the kick of the three fifty-seven he gave me....'' Maurice closed his eyes and shuddered.


    Sam was not wise enough to tell him everything would be alright. Such false assurances hindered more than they helped. Rather than sugar coat his words he felt them become raw in his throat. Even if they hurt, they needed to be said.


    ''Do you feel like a monster?'' Sam asked. Maurice nodded an expectant glint in his eye believing Samuel would tell him otherwise. ''Well, you are. So am I. I can''t tell you how many people I''ve killed. Some, I was a soldier in a war. Others, I was trying to survive. But every life I''ve taken has brought me here today.''


    Samuel took a hard swallow. ''You focus on the fact that you killed a man. That you ended his life. You torment yourself. ¡°I''m a killer. A murderer. A monster. I don''t deserve to live.¡± Things you say to yourself when you try to sleep. But once, have you ever once asked yourself, ¡°Why?¡±. Why am I a murderer, a killer.... a monster?''


    Maurice looked at him blankly. ''Why?''


    ''You''re so focused on the act itself you forget the why. Why you did it? Why you suffer? Why did you do it, Maurice?''


    ''To save my dad. He was going to kill him.'' The young man answered.


    ''And there is your answer. Had you not acted he would be dead, you would likely be dead. Diamond would have never been born. The act itself was terrible but the consequences...were they worth it?''


    Maurice paused briefly, his mind flooding with all those happy memories he shared with Darnell, his little sister Diamond. The nights his mother sang him to sleep. Suddenly a hard lump of longing built in his chest.


    ''...yeah...they were...'' He answered finally. ''But how can I live with it?''


    ''You can''t. Nobody can. The best thing you can do is not waste that man''s life by squandering yours. Be better. Build a better world so that those that come after us don''t suffer as we have.'' Sam told him.


    ''That...makes sense.'' Maurice clicked his tongue. ''Fuck...why is this world so fucked up?''


    ''We had a chance once to build something better.''


    ''What happened?'' Maurice asked him.


    ''Humanity forgot one very important thing.'' Sam told him.


    ''And what was that?''


    For a moment Samuel paused, perhaps to add dramatic flair to his answer but more so that he didn''t stumble on his own words. Then finally, he answered, ''We''re all monsters.''


    The day rolled by as the two men sat on the river bank discussing many things. Most importantly to them, discussing the course that the world had taken. Occasionally a nibble at the end of the invisible fishing line prompted them to put their chat on hold as Maurice expertly reeled in another fish. Once stowed away in the bucket the words flowed once more as he would cast another line out. Almost two hours had passed before Dylan popped through the hedges alerting them that lunch was ready long past noon.


    ''What took so long?'' Maurice asked standing up, whipping the lure from the water and wrapping it around his fishing rod.


    ''What! We started late cause mom hadn''t even finished tending to the garden when dad sent me to help.'' Dylan defended himself.


    ''Maybe you''re just slow.'' Maurice said calmly causing Dylan''s cheeks to puff red.


    ''I am not slow!'' The boy shouted in retaliation offended at the remark.


    Suddenly Samuel stood and held himself tall in front of his son, looming over him with an agitated posture. ''You have no reason to yell Dylan. Maurice is older than you and you''d be wise to respect him. If you want to defend yourself don''t holler like an ape. Use your wits. Be smart with your words.''


    Dylan shied away from Samuel immediately staring at his father''s boots doing his best to avoid eye contact. ''He called me slow....'' The boy whimpered.


    ''I could call you a lot worse.'' Maurice said, ''There are worse things than being called slow.''


    Dylan''s mouth opened ready to retort but the words dried up in his throat under Samuel''s heated gaze.


    ''Go to the house. We''ll be up in a few minutes.'' Samuel ordered him.


    Both men watched the young boy swallow his pride begrudgingly turning his back with the sharp words on his tongue held at bay. Given an opportunity he would have forgotten himself to those words, to him, such simple things. But to Samuel and Maurice, words weighed by hate, simple as they were laid the groundwork for the end of the world. Dylan''s small back disappeared into the shrubbery leaving them a moment of peace to exchange worried glances.


    ''You think it''s time you taught him?'' Maurice asked Samuel.


    ''He doesn''t need to hold a gun. The weight of a book fits him better.'' Samuel said sternly.


    ''As true as that is Mr. Clark,'' Maurice thumbed his nose simultaneously scratching his dirtied temple with his index fingernail collecting a thin line of dirt underneath it''s edge, ''Paper and ink doesn''t stop a bullet flying at you.''


    Samuel rolled his tongue in his clenched mouth pushing a thick glob of saliva up just behind his front teeth. Curling back his lips a brief exertion propelled the white mess away splattering it across the rocky river bank.


    ''No. No, it does not. But if there are no bullets to fly at you-,'' Samuel tried to say.


    ''Then it''s a knife at your throat.'' Maurice cut him short.


    Samuel had no reply. The truth was Maurice had all the cards. He was right no matter which way you looked at it. Were it not for that doubt, that one tiny piece of optimism telling him it could all be different, Dyaln would have learned to shoot the moment he could walk. Perhaps it was a foolish old man''s hope for a better world but eventually the killing had to stop.


    ''We don''t need to kill to make a better tomorrow.'' Samuel reasoned.


    ''Sometimes we have to kill to see tomorrow.'' Maurice told him and though he''d seen it all, heard it all, somehow those words sent a chill down Samuel''s spine, especially coming from Maurice.


    ''Maurice, I''d think you of all people would be more opposed to that line of thought.''


    ''Maybe I should be.'' Maurice bent down to retrieve his bucket hoisting it to his waistline. ''The nightmares, they''ll never stop. I know that. But it''s as you said. I''m here, he''s not. If I hadn''t....done what I did...I guess all I can do now is try to build that better tomorrow now.'' Maurice faced him with a wide smile. ''Something like that right?''


    Samuel cocked a half grin, ''Something like that.''

 Perhaps Its Time

    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?''Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    ''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.