James Van Pelt - Summer of the Apocalypse

“That’s what Mom said. She laughed, called me a scaredy-cat, but, I tell you, something is out there now. It’s ghosts. They’ve been searching and searching and now they’ve found me. This place, my mother’s temple, is all stolen stuff, stolen from those people.”

“Why don’t you leave?”

Phil shook his head and laughed. He took a couple of deep breaths, composing himself. “It’s Mom. I can’t leave Mom.” He patted the freezer.

“She’s in the freezer? She’s dead?” Eric stood and backed away.

“Oh, you can’t tell. I roll her every couple of weeks so she won’t freezer burn, but you can see why I have to stay. Sometimes I think that it’s her they’re after, not me; then I remember that pile of bones. I can feel that grip on my ankle. They know about me.”

Phil toured Eric through the rest of the building. The generator, he explained, was originally a part of Bandimere Raceway. So far from Denver, Bandimere had decided to rely on its own electrical generating capabilities rather than tie into the city’s system. His mom, after just about everyone died, had the foresight to scavenge Denver’s five main hospitals, each with its own generator. He used the parts to keep Bandimere’s generator operational. She also found enough Diesel to fuel the system. “I figure I can keep the lights on until I die,” Phil said when he slapped the side of a tanker truck parked in the garage. Littleton didn’t have a working diesel generator. Eric remembered the tedious, fractious town meetings years ago when the last one provided enough power to light a handful of houses. The town decided then to give up on generating power. He’d argued for expanded scavenging. “There are other ways to keep the electricity,” he’d said, but he was outvoted. Troy, in his first long speech to the council countered,

“What do we need electricity for anyway? What would serve us best is using the daylight more productively. Farm, hunt and fish during the day. Rest at night. These are values we should embrace.” Eric could see the natural politician his son was becoming, but he couldn’t help arguing. “We are entering a new Dark Ages, and you are leading the way!” That meeting marked the beginning of Eric and Troy’s political split. Eric called Troy’s followers the “New Barbarians,” and Troy called Eric’s camp the “Gone Timers.” Most of the “Gone Timers” lived before the plague and remembered what technology could do, but the passage of time dwindled their numbers. The New Barbarians, led by Troy, opposed almost all Eric’s suggestions. Eric often believed Troy took positions solely to spite him and not because he believed them.

Every door Phil opened revealed some remnant of technology. In the radio room, Phil turned on the short wave receiver and roamed through the bands. “Mom said she last heard someone on this the year I was born. I’ve never heard anything other than static or this.” Through the crackles and hiss of static came a steady beeping.

Eric listened intently. “I’d bet that’s a weather satellite.” Phil agreed then turned the system off. After an hour of other rooms, they came to the kitchen. On the stove simmered a large pot. “Beef stew,” said Phil. Eric peeked into the pot suspiciously.

“How old’s that meat?” he asked.

“I told you, I traded. This is three years old. Vacuum packed for freshness. I threw out the meat Mom stored ages ago. It was like shoe leather.” He ladled big spoonfuls into bowls. “We’d better get a meal up to the boys. Movie will be about over by now.”

Dodge dug into the stew eagerly, but had a hard time eating and talking at the same time. “The Gone Times were wonderful!” he said through a mouthful. “Floating cars, light sabres, star cruisers. Do you think Luke lived through the plague? I’ll bet he did. He hopped in the Millennium Falcon and got away when people started getting sick. I’ll bet he’s coming back for us.”

Rabbit sniffed his stew before tasting it. “None of it’s real, Dodge.” Dodge glanced angrily at him. “I know that. I’m not a baby. It’s make believe.” Eric wondered how much Dodge meant when he said, “It’s make believe.” Did he include airplanes?

Doctors? Everything he’d been telling him about the Gone Times? If it weren’t for Phil’s interest in Dodge, Eric would encourage him to stay, to see what technology could do.

Phil sat next to Dodge on the floor. “You’re right, though. Make believe is wonderful. I’ve probably got the best collection of tapes in Colorado. Hell, best in the world, and I’ve got the electricity and equipment to show them.” He put his hand on Dodge’s shoulder. Eric stiffened. “Would you like to see more?” Dodge said, “Sure!” Then he looked at Eric. “Maybe when we finish our trip, I can come back?”

“Maybe,” said Eric. He breathed easier.

“Well, at least you boys can get a decent shower and spend the night. When was the last time you had a hot shower?”

“We have running water,” said Rabbit. Eric guessed what had upset him earlier. He must have sensed that Phil wasn’t “safe.”

“Sounds great to me,” said Dodge. “Maybe we can see another video?” After they watched Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, Phil took them to a locker room with gang showers. The drag racers, he explained, used the lockers to change before their contests. He found towels for them, then said, “Have to shine up the cars. Mom insists.” He closed the door behind him. Rabbit said, “Let’s leave.” Eric turned on a spigot. In a few seconds, clouds of warm steam billowed off the tile floor. He wondered where Phil stored the water and how he heated it. Two days of grime decided the debate for him.

“I think we’ll be okay. I don’t think he’s dangerous.” Dodge looked from Rabbit to Eric, puzzled. “What do you mean? I like him.”

Rabbit started to strip. “Wait a minute,” said Eric. He searched the locker room, carefully covering the four video cameras he found.

When he was sure he’d got them all, he said, “I don’t think he’s dangerous, but I don’t want you alone with him either.”

Dodge said, “I don’t get it.”

Rabbit smirked. “He wants to bugger you, dolt.”

Something woke Eric. He hadn’t been sleeping easily anyway. The strange bed, the excitement of the electric lights and the other Gone Time triumphs that Phil had shown him, conspired to ruin his night’s rest. Finally, though, he’d drifted into a doze. Now, a night light (a green glow-worm from a baby’s nursery) provided the only light. Dodge slept on a bed near a boarded window; Rabbit slept on the floor. He’d smelled the mattress and insisted.

He heard a noise again, a slight rattle, the door. It creaked as if someone were pushing against it. He propped himself on his elbow and said, “Go away, Phil. We’re sleeping.” Quick footsteps padded away down the hall. Eric got out of bed and checked the chair he’d jammed under the doorknob. It still held firmly. Eric smiled and went back to bed.

After a breakfast of pancakes and syrup, Phil walked them to the front doors. He seemed worried. “Get into the city,” he said privately to Eric. “Maybe they aren’t ghosts, but I don’t believe they’re human, and those people in Northglenn and Commerce City couldn’t have just gone without a good reason. I figure they got scared or carried off.” He put his hand on the small of Eric’s back, conspiratorially. “You ought to leave the youngster with me, for safe keeping. When you go home, you can pick him up. If it’s dangerous, you wouldn’t want him with you anyway.”

Eric stepped away from him and didn’t say anything, as if he were considering the idea. Then he said,

“What would your mom think?”