Michael Bunker - WICK

Back on the march, they occasionally talked to one another, but only barely above a whisper, while their eyes still scanned the surroundings.

“We were married for 24 years,” Elsie told Natasha. “I can’t say it was perfect, but what marriage is? It was better than anyone else’s that we knew, for most of those years, anyway. I loved Glenn, and I know that he loved me and our children.” Her voice trailed off as she thought about her children. They walked on in silence a few steps, then she continued.

“Two girls and a boy… two women and a man now… they’ve all moved away. We were all raised to believe that children leaving and going out into the world is the way it’s supposed to be, you know? I don’t believe that anymore, but that’s the way it was and we didn’t know any better. Anyway, they went to college first, and then to distant jobs. The two girls are in New York City, and our boy, Glenn, Jr., he’s in Idaho. Boise, we think.” Natasha looked at her, as if to ask the question, and Elsie answered before she could. “We don’t get to talk to him much. He was different .”

“What do you mean ‘different’?” Natasha asked.

“He talked about all this… stuff ,” Elsie said, indicating all around them with her hand. “You know, the stuff that’s going on right now. He was a survival nut. I guess you’d call him that. We called him that anyway. You know, in trying to reason with him. But he wouldn’t be reasoned with. He was always going on about something. Anti-government is what I thought, though he always denied it. He was always predicting the end of the world, even though he denied that too. I guess, thinking back on it now, I heard what I wanted to hear — anything that would allow me to reject the things he actually said. What he did say was that some bad things were going to happen, and that we should change our lifestyles and be more preparedness minded. I didn’t understand it all, but… well…” She let the implications of that hang in the air, still unwilling, entirely, to believe it.

“I’m sorry that you didn’t get along,” Natasha said.

“We just took everything he said as a rejection of us personally , as people, as parents, as Americans, whatever. When someone tells you that your way of living is unsustainable or foolish, it makes you mad as hell, you know? Not in a way that is measurable though, it’s more like a burning in you that really gets to you. It makes you want to lash out and defend yourself, your worldview… your… I don’t know how to say it. Anyway, I know now. I figured this out when I watched your men here bury Glenn. All that anger I felt was not at anything Glenn Jr. ever said. I was angry that what he said made my conscience burn.”

Elsie was quiet awhile, thinking as she walked along, and Natasha did not interrupt her thoughts.

“The things I said about my own son, the things I did behind his back, well, they were shameful. I wanted to have a relationship with him, but it was like having this accuser around, looking me in the eye all the time. Even when Junior wasn’t around, I felt him accusing me.”

Natasha walked, and listened. She reached her hand out to steady Elsie as she became aware that the older woman was breathing hard.

“I mean, he wouldn’t do it directly… not directly. He just said these things . And he believed them. I mean, he’d let other people take them or leave them, but he was so damned sure of himself. He never said, ‘you are a bad person’ or ‘you shouldn’t do this or that,’ or anything like that. But when he talked about the world and the problems in it, then I felt like he was talking about me . I took that personally, wouldn’t you? I felt it was a personal attack.

“Of course I know that it was not meant to be personal. I mean, I know that now. I’m his mother, for goodness sake. But it hurt our relationship. Things were always tense. Truth be told, I guess I got somewhat personal myself on occasion. I would have preferred that he had fallen into line, tossed out his beliefs and just embraced what all the rest of us believed. That was wrong of me. I see that. And it would have been wrong even if it had turned out that he was wrong and everyone else was right.” Elsie’s voice trailed off and her thoughts went elsewhere for a moment.

“I would give anything to have him here with us while we are going through all of this.”

“Did you say he was in Boise?”

“Yes. He moved up there a few years ago. I hear that there are many survivalist-minded types up there. I called them worse things before all this happened, but I won’t do that now. He tried to get us to come and check out his place, but we wouldn’t do it. We thought he was crazy.”

“Well, just because he was right about the world, doesn’t mean he wasn’t crazy!” Natasha said, trying to lighten Elsie’s mood.

“He wasn’t crazy,” Elsie replied flatly.

“We left Binghamton the day after the power went out. They told me it was an ‘EMP’, but I still don’t really know what that means. The stores were soon out of food. It only took four hours and they were stripped bare. My son used to rail on about that. I remember it now because I hated hearing it.

“He would say, ‘People are crazy if they really believe that the food in the system will last three days after a big enough collapse!’ I just wanted him to shut up about it. But he was right. We went into some stores and there were fistfights over the stupidest things. On one aisle, the only things hanging on the wall were some of those gel soles things… you know… the gel-filled pads you cut and put into your shoes to make them more comfortable? Anyway, people were actually fighting over those. Actually fist-fighting over them. Violence! Over some stupid gel soles.” Elsie shook her head and Natasha smiled, hearing the incredulity in the woman’s humor.

“We just got out of there. All you were going to get in the stores was killed .”

“That’s almost unbelievable. I mean, if we hadn’t already seen the things we’ve seen, I’d call you a liar.” Natasha said.

“There’s no lying about it. We had almost no food in the house. Not anything to speak of. We usually ate out before this happened.” Elsie shook her head. “We made it a few days, but things were getting really thin, and we heard about gangs and looters going door to door. A couple down the street got shot to death right on their doorstep. That’s when we decided we needed to get out.”

“Where were you planning to go?”

“There was no real plan. Some of the neighbors got everyone on our block together—whoever would come—and we had a meeting and just decided to get out of the city. That’s all we could think of at the time. Just get out . You know? Get a tent and get out into the country and just forage. It sounded easy. It wasn’t. But I suppose you all have gone through the same things?”

“I guess you could say it was something like that,” Natasha answered.

“One of the men on our street had a bunch of survival food, and a little hand-pump water purifier, so we figured we’d just walk into the woods until we found some place better than where we were. Isn’t that the story of all refugees for all time?”

“I suppose it is.”

“So tell me about you all. Who’s who?”

Natasha thought for a moment, not knowing what she should say. “Our story is not unlike yours. We’re from a town called Warwick.”

“Oh, Warwick… I’ve heard of it,” Elsie replied.

“My brother was with me,” Natasha said quickly, hoping to cut off any questions in case Elsie knew someone in the other Warwick, or in case she might ask details that would not match up if cross-checked. “He left his glasses at one of our camps and went back for them. We haven’t seen him since. I’m very worried.”