Роберт Уилсон - Days Since... - Xavier - Day 853

“You think so?”

“There’s no tellin’ and that’s my point. We need to be careful. Need to keep an eye on him best we can.”

Xavier looked over to Simon.

Simon didn’t appear particularly menacing. He was seated with his boots off, resting one foot on the step below him, massaging his other—the pain seemed to be evaporating from his body, even if it was only for the moment. He rubbed it a while longer then slid his boots back on, picked up the rifle, and went back to work. Grant obviously has issues with him, but what if he’s right?

“I hear you. What do you think…?” Xavier let his words trail off. Grant wasn’t paying attention—his mind was somewhere else.

“The neighborhood’s changed a lot since the virus.” Grant looked up and down the street. “We never used to hang bed sheets up like that.” A weak laugh. “I just… it’s hard lookin’ at it.”

“Is yours the only one without a sheet?”

“Never got sick.”

“What about your family?”

“I ain’t got no immediate family here. These people on the street here were my family just like the people at the school are now.” Grant paused and scratched underneath is nose. His mind wandered, but his bland appearance gave no hints to what he was thinking. He rubbed his thumb along the edge of the top step and stared out at the houses. “Helped bury most of them, and when it was just me, I started— I started rollin’ them over. Couldn’t bring myself to do it anymore. Didn’t wanna look at their faces as I shoveled.”

“I didn’t know you didn’t have family up here. I just kind of assum—”

“What?” Grant snapped.

“I guess I thought that they all got sick. I figured you were married or something. Most grownups are.”

“Never was until I met Lynn.” Grant took a deep breath and sat there for a moment, doing anything he could to occupy his mind—picking at his fingernails, cracking his knuckles. He wiped his eye. “Uncalled for… what they did to her. She ain’t deserve that. Woman had a heart of gold. Just took her out without a warnin’. Cowards! If I ever find out who…” His voice trailed off.

“I’m sorry.” Xavier laid his hand between Grant’s shoulder blades.

“I’m thinkin’ I’ll prolly just live the rest of my life alone.” He wiped another tear from his cheek. “Focus on my work and tryin’ to make things easier.” Grant smiled at Xavier. “You’ll find someone some day and have a beautiful family.”

Xavier blushed. “We’re getting a little ahead of ourselves. I’m not sixteen, can’t even date yet.”

“That’s a stupid rule. Never cared for it. You find someone, you go for it before this world takes her from you.”

“I don’t know, maybe someday I guess.” Jenny. Xavier smiled. “Anything’s possible, I mean, Simon actually did the right thing in letting us sit here for a bit, huh?”

Grant laughed, “Yeah, he did.” He continued to smile, the tears fading from his eyes. “This whole stretch used to be filled with families. Kids runnin’ around like crazy. Just beautiful. All of it. Now, it ain’t nothin’. Just how the world is now, but it’ll get better. It’s got to.”

Grant took another imaginary sip of beer. The front of their pants started to ripple as the breeze picked up again. An old wind chime hanging overhead took notice. Its cluttered melody rang out along with the others that hung from neighboring porches. Xavier and Grant’s heads bounced from house to house as the entire row came alive. “I used to make those as a hobby. Gave them away to pretty much the whole street.”

“It sounds amazing.” Xavier stood, reached up, and brought the wind chime down into his lap. He looked it over. “You made this?”

“Yep.”

“Wouldn’t have expected that.”

“Yep. Really started by accident. Young lady I liked collected them and figured it’d be a good way to meet her.”

“Oh, yeah?” Xavier elbowed him playfully.

“Yep.”

“And?”

“Yep, that’s it.”

“Really?”

“Do I have to say it?”

“Yep?”

“Yep.” Grant doubled over with laughter.

Xavier rolled his eyes and hooked the metal chime back in its place. The song continued as the wind worked its way down the street. An occasional gust snaked its way in and out of Grant’s porous home, rolling through the empty doorframe and pushing at their backs. The cool air felt nice running up the tails of their shirts. Grant dabbed his forehead with an old shop rag from his pocket.

“I guess we should get goin’,” Grant said, as he stood from the porch.

“Let me finish this.” Xavier raised his invisible can of root beer. “It feels awesome being out here. It just feels different, good, I like it.”

“You ain’t signin’ up to be no scavenger. Need ya helpin’ me out.”

“I know that’s what my dad wants. What he told you, but I might want to make that change.” He looked up to Grant. “This feels right to me.”

“Boy, you dove behind that car quick as a cat when I stopped to look at my mailbox. Come on now.”

“I was just doing what I’m supposed to do. I wasn’t scared. I—I just don’t have a weapon.”

“Easy to say that now. Back about a mile an’ a half I bet ya can see the school again. See how ya feel when it gets a little more uncomfortable.”

And there’s the Grant I know. I knew it wouldn’t last.

“Lemme get an actual drink from ya.” Grant reached for Xavier’s jug and took it from the strap. He raised the water to his lips and took two large gulps. The shop rag touched his forehead again. “Good.”

“I’m ready if you are.” Xavier lifted his bag onto his shoulders.

“Let’s do it.” Grant crushed his imaginary beer can and tossed it through the broken window to the living room.

Xavier raced for the other end of the porch, stutter stepped, and bounded over the banister into the neighboring yard. He turned to see if Grant had seen—his eyes were closed, head shaking. A moderate grin attached to his annoyed mutterings. Xavier could tell by the look on his face that Grant wanted to slap him. The foolishness of youth. He could hear it now, an exasperated berating of what ifs. What if you had sprained your ankle? What if you had busted your head clean open? But instead, Grant simply picked up his duffel bag, slid his hand down the railing of the steps, and joined him next door. Hmm…

Simon was perched on the stoop. The other end of the neighborhood currently held his attention. A pair of black binoculars was pressed firmly against his eye sockets.

“Ready when you are,” Grant said to him.

Simon raised one of his fingers in the air, unwilling to break his concentration as he continued scanning. Xavier stared off in the same direction. As best he could tell, the horizon was clear, and they would be moving out soon.

Simon folded the binoculars and placed them in a pouch secured to his bag’s strap. He inched his way down from the stoop and worked his hands over his equipment to check his gadgets—a nervous ritual more than likely. He seemed satisfied. “Let me get the lead again, and we’ll go,” he said. “You get enough time?”

“Yep.”

“Everything good?”

“We’re ready.”

Xavier and Grant stood together, waiting in the yard for the signal. They kept their eyes on Simon as he made his way down the street. Simon’s arm went forward, and they stepped off. Another half mile until we’re on the highway.

They trailed him with measured steps through the remaining blocks of the neighborhood. Every so often, Simon would stop and raise his rifle along the roofline, between the houses, toward whatever might catch his interest. Each time, Xavier and Grant would find cover.