Sample Chapter
“Monty, I’m tired. I’m tired. I can’t take another step.” The words tumbled out of Onnie Newton’s dry mouth in a rush as she gazed down at her tennis shoes. The tongues lolled out in crumpled angles and the laces were gone, along with a few of the silver rivets. The shoes were once white but were now a shade of smudged dove grey. All of this she barely viewed from the edge of her swelling stomach.
She knew there were holes along the edges of her insole, but the frayed ends were behind the toes, and she had not seen them for at least a month from a standing position. She wore a wispy cotton floral navy dress they’d found somewhere in the last town. Pants were no longer efficient; the bands rubbed too much along the line of her belly, creating itchy wide red marks by the end of their daily travels. They walked all day, all week, all month and into a few years since the catastrophe, never staying too long in one place or the next. But they would have to stay somewhere soon… at least for a little while, until the baby came, and that wasn’t far off.
“It’s all right, baby. We need to take a break. Thank you for not pushing yourself this time.” Monty ran a hand over his nearly bald head. Sweat glistened against the dark curly strands. This was his figuring it out motion, a motion Onnie became used to long ago. She watched him scan the horizon, where old houses sprouted like dry wheat. Some held a promise. But promises were often a ploy to get you murdered, a hard lesson they’d so far evaded.
“It’s midday and the sun is blinding,” Monty said. Then he glanced back and said, “Sirus, catch up, son. You know we don’t like you straggling that far back. It’s not safe.”
“Dad…you’re standing still. We’re not in a hurry. No one’s around. And it’s hot. Can we at least find shade?”
“Don’t. Yell.” Monty’s voice barely contained his ire.
Onnie took a step toward her husband. Her hand reached for his. “He’s just a boy, Monty. He’s doing the best he can for a five-year-old.”
His fingers weaved between hers on contact. He took in a breath and let it out, nodding as he closed his eyes for a moment. That’s when she kept hers open and scanned the horizon for any unusual movement. When Monty was off, she was on. They no longer needed to say the words, with a habit established long ago.
When Sirus met up with them he leaned his head into her side, his slim arm coming up around her belly. Both her men at her side, she watched the amber grass waving in the dry wind. With the palm of her right hand, she shielded Sirus’ head from the sun’s harsh rays and beads of sweat formed almost immediately. She said absently, “You need your hat on your head.”
Then, without a response, a moment later she said, “Monty, there’s a house over there in that field by an old barn. There might be a chicken or two strayin’.”
He lifted his head and pulled away, swiping a spray of sweat to the dirt road. She pointed her arm in the direction of the two-story home engulfed in an overgrown cornfield. His eyes lingered there a moment, then he looked around again at the other options and without a word he adjusted the pack on his back and picked her bag up from the dusty road.
“Good a choice as any, I suppose. Come on, Sirus. Help your mom across the field.”
“Is it going to rain?” Sirus said, as he took hold of her sweaty hand.
Onnie looked again at the sky. “I sure wish it would. Even warm rain would cool things off a bit.”
“There’s a cloud over there.” Sirus pointed. “Right over that house we’re headed for.”
“I see that. I didn’t notice it before,” Onnie said, as she began to cross the ditch leading to the field. Monty held out his hand and eased her balance while she traversed the ravine.
“There’s a deer trail through the field but watch your hands along those sharp, dry stalks. They’ll cut you up if you’re not careful.”
She’d heard this same warning nearly every single time they crossed a field, and apparently so had her son, because when his eyes met hers, they rolled slightly. Who taught him to do that, she wondered?
They rarely met other children his age and yet this reflex still existed. She couldn’t help but smile. “Take it easy here, Onnie. The ground’s uneven,” Monty said. And when she looked up, she saw that he’d stopped in his tracks and then, so did she, halting her son’s next step.
“What is it?” Sirus’ words came in a whisper, sensing something was wrong.
But she didn’t answer as she felt her son’s eyes first linger on her face for an answer, and then he looked to his father, farther down the trail.
She barely moved but her eyes darted from one direction to the other. Should she run, dragging her son with her? And if so, which direction? All she needed was a signal. A signal from her husband. But Monty stood silently twenty feet ahead with his back to her as he stared at something on the ground.
With a hush that dragged on, a dry breeze seethed and clattered thirsty cornstalks together like rushing bees in a funnel. The sound was so eerie that every wisp of hair along her arms stood in silent salute. Her grip on her son’s hand tightened and yet Monty still gave no signal. Ready to bolt, she lifted a handful of her thin cotton dress as a torrent of rain dumped from the sky. And in the sudden darkness, that’s when she noticed the lights brightening the windows of the house beyond the field.
Onnie’s mouth hung open. Wet drops pelted her head, clung to her eyelashes, and yet she could not tear her eyes away from the steady golden beams shining through the squares. There were no flickers from a fire flame. There were only steady lights, firm in their existence. An existence that neither she nor Monty had seen in years.
“What does it mean?” Her voice was full of surprise. She found Monty watching her, having lost interest in whatever transfixed him before. His face was dark and vacant, heedless of the rain drenching him.
“Come on.” Monty’s voice raised over the din, then he nodded in the direction of the house. Onnie shook her head. “No,” she began to say but Monty came to her in a rush and grabbed her arm, urging her and Sirus down the path.
“We need to get out of the rain.”
But Monty kept her moving and in another two steps she felt the familiar sponge of weeds beneath her feet and then a sharp sting along her arm where a razor-edged stalk caught her flesh. “Mom… what’s that light?” Sirus said. But there was no time to explain as Monty hauled them both up and onto the steps of a wooden porch as if there was an enemy rushing behind them.
That’s when Monty’s hand landed on the door’s knob. That’s when terror struck through her like a bolt of lightning. Don’t! Don’t open that door!"
