Jacqueline Druga-Marchetti - Dust

The reunion made me pull out the ‘I’ll be there’ notebook and jot down a few things. Actually, I ended up writing for several hours. Then before I shut the cover, I repeated an action I had taken earlier in the day; like I did with Craig, I circled Sam’s name. Doing so made me smile, but only briefly. My eyes skimmed the list. Six people remained. Six. And I prayed at that moment, that as the days dwindle down, so would the number of my friends left unaccounted for.

The fourth grade electronics kit Davy got for Christmas was opened for the first time. I remember when he asked for that kit. First for his birthday, then when he didn’t get it, he asked Santa to bring it. It was expensive, and I knew it would go to waste. It did. With the intention to donate it or throw it away, Sam packed it up with all the other toys never touched. He put it in a plastic bag and stored it in the basement. Then forgot about it.

That kit became the center of attention for two days in the shelter. Davy wanted to convert the kit to send Morse code. He had a plan to get messages out. To let other survivors know we were alive. I didn’t have the heart to tell him the radio pretty much served the same purpose.

Dan still worked my nerves. Actually, Dan had to do nothing and the sight of him gnawed at me. But at least Dan wasn’t just sitting around, eating the food and crying. He had taken the entire day before and partitioned off the basement. Hating to admit it, he did a good job, too. I believe he did it purely for selfish reasons, because using an old curtain; he closed off the area around the stairs, deeming that his sleeping room. That was fine with me. The basement had gone from one large room, to three—not including Dan’s. He used what he could, sectioned off the laundry area for clean up and cooking, and divided the remaining basement portion in two. We would now have more privacy, which was important. He utilized the space, attributing his well-done job to his years of studying and teaching Fen Shui… yeah right.

We started using the basement powder room. I’ll give that one to Sam. Our next-door neighbor wasn’t home, and since his water lines weren’t shut down, the twenty gallons in the tank were not viable for drinking. It was however viable for… flushing. One flush a day. That worked. It was better than the bucket method we had been using. Although the males rarely used the bucket, they favored the drainpipe. We were wading through the intolerable better than I anticipated.

Except for Matty. Something was wrong with my daughter. She wasn’t ill, she wasn’t hurt, she was… quiet. If she spoke ten words since Sam brought her home, we were lucky. She responded to questions by nodding or shaking her head. But she started to cling more than she ever did. Holding on to me, Davy or Sam, at all times. Never was one of us without Matty attached to us.

Sam said it was shock. Not that he knew for sure, but that was his best guess, and mine. I wondered for how long? How long would Matty be withdrawn? Did she see something at that school, or was the entire aspect of all that happened, just too much for her fragile mind to handle? There were no answers. Not yet.

Davy and Simon were still Davy and Simon. Fast becoming bomb shelter pros. They had a routine they rarely varied from. One that included some sort of daily activity that lasted for hours. Even if Simon didn’t partake in actually completing the project, Davy made Simon feel like he was. Including his little buddy in everything. It astounded me that how only twice, maybe three times, did Simon wear thin on Davy.

We were in the draped off section in the corner by the cold cellar. Davy and Simon worked on the Morse code, I read from a children’s book while Matty cuddled to my side.

“Roger Dinosaur poked his head in the door, ‘You have to let me in,” I read from the book, “’No,’ said Cook, ‘you’re too big, get out’. Then clunk, cook hit Roger on the head with the pan.” As I flipped the page, I heard Simon laughing hysterical.

“Funny.” Simon giggled. “Again. Read it again.”

Over his shoulder, Davy peered at me. “Mom. No.”

I ignored Davy and read, “Roger Dinosaur poked his head in the door, ‘You have to let me in.’ ‘No,’ said Cook, ‘you’re too big, get out’. Then clunk, Cook hit Roger on the head with the pan.”

Again, Simon broke out in hysterical laughter, slapping his little knee and nearly falling to the floor. “Funny, Aunt Jo. Again.”

Really, I would have obliged, but Davy blasted out his objections, and Matty shook her head violently. I understood, it wasn’t like I had only read the passage twice; I had read it at least ten times before that. “No, Simon. I have to read another page.”

“Aw.” He whined. “Davy, tell Aunt Jo.”

“Can’t.” Davy shrugged. “Aunt Jo’s mean.”

“Thank you for that, Davy.” Shaking my head, I turned the page. Just as I opened my mouth to read, I heard Sam cough. Maybe if it were someone else, this wouldn’t have been alarming. But Sam was one of those people who just didn’t cough.

“Sam?” I called out.

Sam coughed again just before he poked his head in the curtain. “Yeah?”

“You OK?”

Sam gave me a smirk as if I were ridiculous. “Yes.”

“Were you sleeping?” I asked. “You’ve been quiet.”

“No, I was next door, seeing what Mark had in his basement.”

“Sam.” I sighed out. “Stop going outside so much.”

“Jo, please,” he scoffed. “I’m fine.”

“Are you really?”

“Read your book. I have some tools to put away.”

The curtain closed.

Sam the looter. It made me chuckle, but Sam worried me. He went in and out of the shelter so much, I truly wondered if Sam thought he was infallible. The fear of radiation poisoning just wasn’t with him. Not at all.

Ready to slam back into the powerhouse story of Roger, the Dinosaur, it dawned on me. It was time.

“Sam?” I summoned him again. “Can you put the radio on? Craig is gonna make his hourly report.”

Davy muttered, “Oh my, God.”

“What?” I glanced at Davy. “What?”

Davy shook his head.

“Sam? I’m holding Matty. Can you open the curtain so I can hear.”

Again, Davy said it, only louder. “Oh my God.”

“What?” I was confused, then spewed forth a ‘thank you’ when the curtain opened.

“Why do we have to listen to Craig every hour?” Davy asked. “He’s boring.”

“He’s broadcasting the levels.”

“Sam goes out and take a level now that he figured out the Geiger counter.”

“Well…” I grew a little snobbish. “Doesn’t hurt to double check. Right Matty?”

Matty nodded.

“Right, Simon?” I asked.

Before Simon answered me, he listened to whatever Davy whispered in his ear. “Craig’s boring,” Simon said.

“Boring or not,” I defended. “He’s still calling out there, maybe someone will respond.”

“Why do we care?” Davy questioned.

“We’ll know other people are alive.”

“But if we don’t know them, why does it matter?”

“Davy,” I huffed slightly. “You never know, maybe we’ll have to meet up with them.”

“But wouldn’t it be impossible if they were like in, I don’t know, China”

My frustration took over. “If they were in China we probably wouldn’t understand them. Build your fuckin’ Morse code thingy.”

Davy looked at me and mouthed the word, ‘thingy’ with question.

A waved a hand at him in a ‘shoo’ manner.

Like clockwork, Craig’s voice came over the radio. Introduced by a hiss of static. “Cycle one. Hourly report. May twelfth. Anyone there? Over.”