Blind Spot Page 5

  I can store apples for a few months at least and I think I can dry cherries and apricots. It’s the berries which are giving me the most trouble. We always used to freeze berries, but without electricity I’ve got nothing. I’m sure it’s possible to make jam, even on my woodstove, but I have no idea how to keep jam from spoiling.

  “Morning Lee,” says Roy. “You look like you’re deep in thought.”

  “Trying to figure out how to preserve raspberries and boysenberries.”

  “Rum and sugar,” he suggests.

  “I have a few bottles of beer.” Alcohol has been in short supply since some people decided to drink away their misery and I’ve never been one to drink a lot. Though I did finish Dad’s bottle of whiskey one night and regretted the overindulgence in the morning. I swear the goats knew I was hungover and were unusually difficult just to screw with me.

  “Nah, you can’t use beer,” says Roy. “Vodka would work, though.”

  “I don’t have any of that either, but I’ve got a couple bottles of wine.” Mom always kept one white and one red in the house. She wasn’t much of a drinker either, but she liked knowing she had quick gifts available.

  “I don’t know how that would work.”

  With no solution in sight, we head to the henhouse. Sadie plays with Baron, Roy’s German shepherd.

  “Beth’s picking veggies for lunch,” he says. “You will stay, right?”

  “Sure.” I have food at home, but no human conversation. Ed Anderson will be over sometime today to pick spinach, but I don’t need to be home for that. After an initial period of lawlessness, we decided there were too few of us left for distrust, and everyone’s pretty honest. It works for a small rural area; I doubt things are as civil in the cities.

  “She’s a good cook.”

  I repress a groan. Roy makes these remarks about Beth now and it’s only a matter of time before he gets to the point. He’s considered the population and decided that in a couple years I’ll be a good husband for Beth. I can see his point because, by virtue of being a fellow farmer, I have more survival skills than most people left. Many of our neighbors commuted to jobs in the suburbs or city and face a steep learning curve. Beth is seventeen, nine years my junior, and she’s a sweet girl, but nothing is ever going to happen between us.

  One of these days I’m going to have to work up the nerve to tell them I’m gay. I’m out to family and friends, which at this point has been reduced to Lily and my longtime friend Stan Pomerleau. Beth’s older sister Allie knew because she was one of my closest friends, but I’m not sure how Roy would react and I don’t want to risk losing our neighborly relationship, so I haven’t said anything. I’ve sworn to myself that if I ever think Beth is planning on a future with me, I’ll level with her, but so far I think it’s just Roy. At this point I suspect Beth is far more interest in Ed Anderson’s nephew Matt anyway.

  As for me, my prospects in the sex and romance department have dwindled down to nonexistent as far as I’m aware. I try not to focus on that depressing reality.

  “That’s where the dogs came in,” says Roy unnecessarily. The hole in the wall is pretty clear. “Guess the wood was a little weak, and that’s all they needed.”

  Dogs are turning feral. I guess Sadie would have, too, if I hadn’t made it, but while I love her the feral dogs are a damn nuisance. They have a taste for chicken, and I’m pretty sure they’re helping themselves to half the rabbits I’ve managed to snare. I’ve already shot three dogs.

  Repairing the henhouse would be a one-man job for me, but Roy’s got to be at least seventy and the man retired for a reason. While we’re fixing the henhouse, I replace a section of the roof which looks liable to blow away in the next big storm.

  “How’s that new horse of yours?” asks Roy.

  “I still don’t think of her as mine.”

  “She’s decided to be yours.”

  He has a point. I found a black mare wandering around my apple orchard last week and she hasn’t shown the slightest inclination to leave.

  “Any good horse will be useful,” Ray continues. “Wish we had a couple more. I’m keeping my eyes out and my ears open.”

  “I’m going to have to put up a lot more hay.” How much hay does a horse need over the winter? We had horses when I was a really young, but they were old and when they died my parents didn’t get any more. Now I wish they had because I might’ve known what I’m doing. I’ve collected two geldings and three mares, one of which has a handsome colt who will grow up to father my next generation of horsepower.

  “Yep. Plenty of unmown fields around here.”

  There isn’t plenty of gas, though, so I’m going to have to figure out a way to hitch the horses to my farming equipment.

  “Now what we really need is a stallion. I’d like another sire besides that young one of yours.” Ray has adopted horses of his own but no stallion.

  “Maybe one will wander into your orchards.”

  “Here’s hoping.”

  “I found gear at the feed store and I’m trying to teach myself to ride.”

  “How’s it going?”

  “Let’s just say there’s room for improvement.” Not to mention a nasty bruise on my ass, the result of a poorly secured saddle.

  Roy laughs. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

  He says that about everything we face these days, and I try to believe him.

  ****

  Before the plague it took three of us to run the farm, plus the occasional hired help during harvests. Now that it’s just me I can’t possibly keep everything like it was, so I’ve had to prioritize. As a result, some parts of the farm are really suffering from neglect.

  The tomato field is an overgrown mess. The kale is in a similar state. We grew kale because it got a decent price from the hipsters, but I’ve never cared for it and that was the first thing I gave up on.

  I study my hand-drawn map while my dinner cooks. It’s rabbit again tonight. Rabbit fries up pretty well and Sadie’s just about drooling at the scent.

  “I guess we’ll see if Grandma was right about garlic fighting infections,” I muse, marking off a field. “If nothing else it’ll give winter meals some flavor. But I need to get my hands on some seed potatoes.”

  Sadie barks, and at first I think she’s just responding to my voice until I see her on her hind legs looking out the window. “What is it, girl?”

  “Ruff!”

  “Alright, I’m coming.”

  There’s an unfamiliar car in the driveway, and my sister steps out of the driver’s seat. I race out to meet her.

  “Lee!”

  “So good to see you, Lils.” That doesn’t begin to cover how relieved I am, and I swallow a lump of emotion lodged in my throat. Lily is hugging the stuffing out of me and I couldn’t be happier. Sadie bounces around at the feet of another man. Ah. Lily didn’t come alone.

  “Lee, this is Nate Schlessinger. Nate, my brother Lee Johnson.”

  I take a look at the guy while we shake hands. He’s probably about my age and has a gun holstered to his leg. Something about the way he carries himself tells me he knows exactly how to use that gun.

  Lily’s tearing up and trying to hide it. “I kept hoping you were alive. There was speculation that immunity might have a genetic component. Are…”

  I shake my head. “Just me.”

  She swallows hard but bravely says, “I didn’t think everyone would survive.”

  Turning to Nate, I ask, “You’re from the area?” I know he’s not from the immediate area, at least, but he could be reasonably local.

  He shakes his head. “I’m from Brooklyn. My family died early on. When I was scavenging in the cafeteria I ran into Lily, recognized her from Intro to Geography. She said she was planning to head home, and I thought her odds would be better if she wasn’t alone.”

  “It’s a good thing he did,” says Lily. “We were attacked before we even left New York.”

  “I was in the army, so I know how to
use a gun,” he finishes.

  Now I can’t help but like the guy who kept my little sister safe. He’s also pretty good looking: feisty green eyes, thick black hair, and a nice body. He’s got a beard that looks to be recent, and it works nicely. His t-shirt is pretty tight and damn, the guy has impressive arms. But I’m getting distracted.

  “Any plans?” I ask. “Because you’re welcome to stay.”

  “Thanks. I’ll take you up on that, at least for the time being.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “I am!” says my sister.

  “Lily insisted we skip dinner so we could get here today. We haven’t been driving after dark.”

  “Come inside. I’ve got a rabbit cooking, and I’ll throw on some eggs.” Not to mention all the spinach they can eat.

  “It’s probably too much to hope that the plumbing works,” says Lily.

  “It is. You’ll find the outhouse by where the old shed used to be.” I need to figure out a better system than sponge baths, too. Yesterday we had a downpour and I showered outside. “Want to give Nate a tour while I make dinner?”

  “Sure.”

  “I apologize in advance if the guest room is a mess,” I tell Nate. That was my brother’s old room, where he and his wife came at the end. I cleaned it after they died but can’t say how good a job I did, and I haven’t been back in since.

  “I’m not worried.”

  I help them unload the car. Lily has two suitcases and Nate one, but it looks like they’ve been collecting useful items along the way. I see an unopened twenty-five pound bag of rice, a pile of firewood, and lots of apple juice.

  Sadie stays with me while Lily shows Nate around, although honestly I’m not sure if that’s due to her loyalty or the food I’m making. She’s happy, too, prancing around with her tail wagging.

  For the first time in two months I whistle while I get dinner ready.

  “You have goldfish?” asks Lily when she comes to the living room, which is where I do my cooking since the woodstove is there.

  “They were Mitch’s.” Mitch and I had been friends since his family moved to town when we were in second grade. I figured I’d try to keep his fish alive to honor him.

  “I noticed you’re back in your old room.”

  “It was too hot in the attic without A/C.”

  “Lee had his own apartment in the attic over the garage. With a separate entrance and everything,” she explains to Nate.

  “You’re sure I’m not imposing?”

  Before I can say a word, Lily speaks, as usual. “Nate, I don’t even want to think about what would’ve happened to me without you. Of course you’re not imposing.”

  “It’s really not an imposition as long as you don’t mind working for your food,” I say before turning to Lily. “What happened?”

  “Like I said, I don’t want to think about it.”

  I frown but accept this for now. Meanwhile, Nate says, “I’d expect to work for my food. Though I’m afraid I don’t know much about farming.”

  “Not a problem. Lots of people are learning now.”

  We eat fried eggs and rabbit on spinach, and I break out a box of cheese crackers for the occasion. I’m so happy I barely taste the meal, but Lily and Nate enjoy it immensely. Sadie wolfs her eggs down as usual and begs a piece of rabbit from Lily.

  Lily doesn’t want to talk about their trip, which I take to mean that things are pretty bad out there. So instead I tell her about my life now, who among our neighbors survived, and the systems we’ve developed.

  “The Rayner twins are hoping to breed more alpacas for the wool,” I say between spoonfuls of applesauce. “In a lot of ways I think food will be easier than clothes.” Though at least we don’t need clothes right away.

  “Deer hide?” suggests Nate.

  “I think we’re going to try it. Roy, our neighbor, knows a little bit about tanning. He showed me how to tan rabbit hides, which I’m practicing.”

  “I should’ve paid more attention to Grandma’s knitting lessons,” says Lily.

  “We’re okay for the immediate future, at least, but we need a better system for the well. I’m pumping water up with the generator, but the fuel won’t last forever.”

  “An old-fashioned bucket well?” suggests Nate. “I could help dig one.”

  I think he could be a real benefit around here, even if I’m hoping it doesn’t come to digging a new well when we have a perfectly good one.

  ****

  Lily and Nate take sponge baths while I take care of my evening chores, and then she wants to show me their supplies before it’s completely dark.

  “We ate most of the food, but we have the sack of rice, some soup, and I think a few cans of tuna are in here somewhere,” she says.

  “And the granola bars,” adds Nate.

  “Right. Can’t forget those. We hit granola bar pay dirt, and then the next day found lots of apple juice.”

  They’ve collected an assortment of batteries, flashlights, blankets, hygiene and first aid items, two flint and steel kits, and a few useful books. And here we always laughed at people who kept books with titles like Post-Apocalyptic: Surviving and Thriving after Civilization Collapses. Now I consider myself fortunate that I’ll be able to read it.

  “We got the last two flints,” Lily says. “Maybe in all of New York City.”

  Nate hands me a three-ring binder. “I printed these before the internet went down.” He has the printouts arranged with tabs, covering a few key topics like setting snares, skinning game, and building smokehouses. Talk about prepared for the worst.

  “I have two bows,” he says, opening a long box. “Two dozen real arrows and ten that are dull for practice.

  “He has guns, too,” Lily tells me.

  “Do you have any?” he asks.

  “Dad liked to hunt,” says my sister. “He had two guns, right?”

  “Yes, and birdshot. I also got Malcolm’s three rifles, pistol, and an AK-47 with lots of ammo.” Dad’s friend Malcolm was a gun enthusiast and I wasted no time helping myself to his collection since I’m pretty sure at some point I’m going to need to defend the farm. I like to think Malcolm would approve.

  “Good,” says Nate. “I don’t want to take any chances.”

  He shows me his firearms: two handguns, a hunting rifle, and some kind of semi-automatic in addition to a lot of ammo. This guy clearly doesn’t plan to get caught without his weaponry, and from what Lily said that kept her alive on the trip home. It’s a scary new world.

  His yawn is obviously fake. “I’m beat. Hope you don’t mind if I head up to bed.”

  “Not at all.” We all know he’s going to bed early so Lily and I can have a private reunion.

  “He seems like a good guy,” I tell her once he’s upstairs.

  “He is. And he’s gay,” she says. My sister was the first person I came out to and she’s been trying to set me up with guys ever since. She once spent an entire Sunday evening showing me men on dating sites. Trust Lily to stick with her mission even through the collapse of civilization.

  “I suppose you told him I am.”

  “Yes. Don’t give me that look! I was reassuring him that I’m not homophobic, not trying to set you two up. Although you’d make a cute couple.”

  “Only you, Lils, would worry about finding me a boyfriend now.”

  “I’m a very loving sister.”

  “You are.”

  She sits in Dad’s recliner. “It’s crazy how different everything is now. I’m hoarding tampons and even happy to have instant coffee.”

  “Truly a sign of cataclysmic change.”

  “I’ve also given up shaving my legs. If this isn’t a time to get rid of stupid societal expectations of beauty I don’t know what is.”

  That’s all well and good for her, but I don’t look good with facial hair because it grows in too sparsely. I blame this on my Shoshone maternal grandfather, since Dad could practically grow a beard overnight. At least I managed to
get my hands on a straight razor for when I run out of my standard disposables.

  “How long have you been alone?” Lily asks.

  “Over three weeks now. Once the virus went airborne it swept through quickly.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I hoped to come home to more than you.”

  “I know. I wish you had.”

  “I did find you, though. How… Mom and Dad, Tim and Paula, was it very bad for them?”

  “No.” That’s partly a lie. Mom, Tim, and Paula had easier deaths because they lost consciousness before their failing organs caused much pain. I can’t bring myself to tell Lily that Dad wasn’t so lucky. “I’ve seen much worse.” This much is true. Beth’s older sister Allie was in so much pain she begged for someone to kill her.

  I don’t like thinking about Allie and fortunately my sister doesn’t press. And if she suspects that I’m glossing over some of our family’s suffering, she’s willing enough to believe the lie because it hurts less.

  “I think it’s going to take me time to process everything,” she says. “We saw a lot of ugliness on the drive.”

  “You’re in as good a place as any to rest and process. I’ve been living in hope that you made it.”

  “I almost didn’t.” The raw emotion in her voice is palpable, and I’m suddenly imagining a million horrors she could’ve faced. “Not Severny. We hadn’t even made it out of New York when we were attacked. We were bringing food from a grocery store to our first car and I think that’s what attracted them. Nate shot one of them in the arm, scared them off. But that wasn’t the last of our problems. Twice we were looking for food and barely made it out unhurt. There was a place with mostly men where they wanted me, they would’ve....” She trails off and shakes her head. “Thank God for Nate with his military training. I don’t think I’d have made it without him.”

  Yeah, this guy is definitely welcome to stay as long as he likes and it has absolutely nothing to do with him being an attractive gay man.

  She changes the subject before I can ask any more questions. “Have you heard from Aunt Delia?”

  “Not since before you and I last talked.” Was that a month ago? It seems like a different lifetime when we could grab our cell phones and talk to anyone in the world.