David Dalglish - A Land of Ash

“Not nothing Trusty can’t open,” she said as she placed a can of Spaghettios near the fire. Using the tip of the can opener, she punched a hole at the top to make sure it didn’t rupture or get too hot. Alice poked out her head, looked around, and then leapt free. She seemed perfectly suited to the land of ash, her fur solid gray but for many white lines running along her ribs and tail. The cat curled up beside the fire and lay still.

“Don’t sleep too deep,” Gertrude said. “Supper’s almost ready.”

She reached into her pack and pulled out a small ziplock bag. Inside were two spoons, three knives, and a fork. She unzipped the bag, retrieved the spoon, and then quickly closed it and stashed it in her pack. More than anything, she wanted her silverware clean. There was enough ash everywhere in the world; the least she could do was keep it out of her food.

Gertrude didn’t lower her scarf to eat until she’d pulled up the sides of her coat, hunkering down away from the wind. Now that the burial snow had ceased falling, and the initial storms had passed, it seemed much safer to breathe the open air, but Gertrude never risked herself any longer than she needed to. Her lungs were old, and more importantly, they were the only pair she had. No sense in ruining them while they still worked.

Once a bit of steam trickled out the hole in the can, Gertrude pulled it away and let it cool for a moment. While she did, she retrieved one of the pudding cups. She felt like a giddy schoolgirl as she held it. How long had it been since she’d tasted a real dessert? Two weeks? Three? No matter. She’d taste one now, but only after eating! Trusty did its work on the rest of the lid, and then she wolfed down the Spaghettios, red sauce dripping down her chin. After that, she made quick work of the pudding. Between the two, she felt just like a child.

“Oh, I almost forgot about you,” Gertrude said, dumping the last bits of sauce and noodle out beside the cat. “I seem to do that lately, don’t I?”

She didn’t remember if she’d fed Alice the night before, but it didn’t seem to matter. Alice gave her a look that said, very clearly, ‘You woke me up for this?’ The cat laid her head back down and closed her eyes. Gertrude chuckled.

“Fine, you be that way. I’m… I’m… quite fine without you, thank you very much! Hrmph.”

She decided she deserved another pudding cup before curling up beside the fire and drifting off to sleep under a mountain of blankets.

When she awoke, the night remained deep, and her fire roared healthily. A figure sat opposite of her, cracking some branches in his hands and throwing them onto the flame.

Gertrude screamed.

“Shit, lady!” the figure, a man, shouted. He stood and took a step back, as if worried she were dangerous. Gertrude kicked and squirmed until her back was against the car. Underneath her blankets, she clutched a steak knife, the one she slept with every night for the past three weeks.

“Go away!” Gertrude yelled. “Take – take – whatever you want, take. Go! Leave!”

“Stop screaming at me!” the man yelled back.

“No!”

The man sighed and rubbed his hand against his eyes. He sat back down. Gertrude shrunk deeper into her blankets at the sight of him. His face was ashen, his eyes sunken deep into his skull. A newly-grown beard curled around his chin. His hair was long and dark. When he smiled, his teeth were crooked.

“I’m not here to rob you, woman,” he said. “My name is Samuel.”

He waited. As if from a distant life, Gertrude remembered her firmly entrenched standards of politeness.

“Ms. Gertrude Henderson,” she said. She pulled down her scarf so she didn’t look like one of those women from the Middle East they sometimes showed on the news. “A pleasure to meet you, mister, assuming you aren’t here to take my things.”

“Might have been a time in my life I would have done just that,” Samuel said. He smiled at her, but it reminded her of a wolf’s smile, all teeth and lolling tongue. Except he looked tired, so tired. “But not now. Doesn’t feel much point to it. The world’s changing. Think we should be changing with it.”

“A sensible thing to do,” Gertrude said. She looked around. “What’d you do with Alice?”

“Alice?” asked Samuel.

“My cat.”

The man shrugged.

“Haven’t seen a cat. I’ve eaten a couple on the trip here, though. That meat’s tough as nails. No good. Your cat is safe with me, miss.”

Gertrude shot him a look that showed she very much doubted that. Samuel coughed and tossed another log onto the fire.

“So where you headed?” he asked.

Gertrude slowly put the knife down on the ground beside her, still hidden by her blankets. Pulling a hand free, she pointed west, following the highway.

“Well, I keep traveling that way, just me and Alice. You’re the first I’ve seen in…blast this old memory. A week? Two? They weren’t going my way, either. Nice people, good people. But they don’t know what’s smart to do!”

“And what is that?” asked Samuel. His face flickered in the light of the fire.

“Go west,” Gertrude said, grinning wide. “People keep breaking into homes, but that’s not where the food is. It ain’t in the stores, neither. The cars, Samuel! I look in the cars because that’s where people ran when they heard. They stole and they hid and they grabbed everything and then tried to drive away. I’m following the food.”

“Toward the storm?” Samuel asked.

Gertrude nodded, her head bobbing rapidly up and down.

“Everyone went the other way. Such a gosh-darned gaggle of people, can’t think they’ll have but each other to eat soon! But no one’s west. Just me. And you, I see, not that I expect you to keep coming with me. You’re going east, aren’t you, young man?”

“And if I am?” he asked.

“Then I should say goodbye, shouldn’t I?” She laughed. “And good luck too, of course. We all could use a bit of luck, even with God keeping his eye so close.”

Samuel shifted as if uncomfortable.

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“What?”

“God keeping his eye close on us.”

Gertrude gestured about wildly.

“Why, there’s so much fewer of us to watch, ain’t there? Guess everyone might be raising a din up in heaven to distract him, but I don’t know that and neither do you!”

Samuel chuckled.

“What if,” he said, letting his voice trail off for a moment. “What if I were actually going west instead of east?” he asked.

“Was that where you were going before tonight?” she asked. “You been following me?”

“No,” he said, chuckling. “I was going east, but I’m thinking of changing directions now that I’ve met you. Is that all right with you, miss?”

“Ms. Henderson,” she snapped. “If you’re to call me a miss, you might as well use the name meant to go with it.”

His smile faded for an instant, then returned, as if a cloud had passed over his face.

“But you called me mister,” he said.

“That’s because you told me nothing more,” she said.

Gertrude looked about, her lips twitching.

“Now where’d Alice run off to?” she asked. “Alice? Alice! Come on back, girl. Silly, stupid cat. She’ll be back by morning. Now if you excuse me, Samuel, I should get back to sleeping. I don’t know how you are for food, but I have a bit to share come morning. Until then, good night. You’re welcome to share the fire, especially since you got it going so well.”

She curled back up under her blankets, her arm for a pillow, her knife for a teddy bear.

Samuel picked at his teeth, watching her sleep.

“Gertrude,” he said.