R. Allinson: The Long Road Home

“What are we going to do for the next two months?” Claire half-sobbed.

Tom was silent for a minute, thinking. His eyes caught on a picture of Noah, Tristan and Molly that was taken a few months ago at Molly’s thirteenth birthday dinner. He hadn’t spared much thought for his niece, other than general concern. Poor kid. She was old enough to know what was going on. At least his boys were too young to be scared.

“We’ll make these months count. Every single day. If it is the… the…” he faltered, finding it hard to say, somehow, here in his own home with his sleeping sons upstairs. He cleared his throat. “If it is the end, then I want it do be the best two months of the kids lives. Molly too. And you.”

Claire smiled wanly at him. He held her tighter.

Tom barely slept once they finally went to bed, and by the way Claire was tossing and turning next to him, he didn’t think she did either.

“I’ll call Mum and Dad. You can say hi to them,” Claire said to him while she was pulling on her jeans and a bright red sweater after obviously giving up on sleep. It was still dark outside. Tom nodded and stayed in bed under the warm duvet. Claire came back with her laptop and climbed back on the bed with him. She opened Skype and tried to call.

“Shit. It’s not working.”

Tom looked more closely at the computer.

“Try and load another page,” he suggested.

Biting her lip, Claire attempted to open up a news website, but the connection timed out. Again, and again she tried different websites but none of them loaded. Frowning, she reached for her cell phone. Tom held his breath as she dialled her family back in Australia, praying that she would get through.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Claire threw the phone away from her.

“Hey, hey, deep breaths.” Tom reached out and rubbed her back. She was starting to hyperventilate.

“What if I can’t, what if it won’t work? Tom? What if I can’t speak to them again?”

“Don’t jump to conclusions just yet, baby.” He wrapped her up in his arms, and she crumpled against him. “We’ll try again before we leave. The ‘net might just be down temporarily.”

“But the phone wasn’t working either,” she said, high-pitched.

“It’s okay, you’ll speak to them again,” Tom said.

“You don’t know that,” Claire whispered.

They lingered over breakfast. Tom made his family french toast. Noah gobbled his up, while Tristan made a mess of his, but Claire just picked at hers. She looked on the verge of tears a few times. Tom wanted to cheer her up, but couldn’t think how.

Noah trailed after them as they went around the house, piling everything they wanted to take in the hallway. It was hard to know what they’d need or want in 4 or 5 weeks, or even 4 or 5 months, when Tom let himself hope that they’d still be alive in 4 or 5 months. Tom started packing up the car and trailer that Claire had borrowed from their elderly neighbour, first with all of the supplies that Claire had bought, and then with more sentimental items from around the house.

It took about ten minutes to get Lancelot into the cat carrier. Scratched and frustrated, Tom was almost tempted to give up and leave the damn cat here to fend for himself, but the look on Claire’s face stopped him from saying it out loud.

At last they were all packed. There were more things that they’d both like to take, but they were out of room. Together, they did a final walk around their house. Tom held Noah on his hip, Claire carried Tristan, and they clung to each other’s spare hand.

Claire tried once more to contact her family, but the internet was still down and she couldn’t get through on the phone. Tom watched her carefully. She took a deep breath and collected herself.

“Uncle Jim’s still got a landline. That might work,” he said to her, trying to be reassuring. She smiled at him and nodded.

“Yeah. That might work,” she echoed.

“Are you ready?” Tom asked.

“No,” Claire sighed, looking around. “But let’s go.”

He kissed her on the forehead.

They somehow managed to buckle the boys into the car, in amongst the pillows, blankets, and supplies. Claire bit back a sob as he started reversing out of the driveway. He reached over and squeezed her hand.

Tom glanced back in the rearview mirror at the end of the street for a last glimpse of his house, wondering if he’d ever be back. He changed his focus to Tristan and Noah in the back seat, and then glanced over at Claire. They were what was important, not a house. Home could be anywhere, as long as they were together. He just needed to keep them safe, and get through the next two months, and hopefully see the other side.

I couldn’t have done this without the support of my partner Keenan, and my family. Extra big thanks to Linda, Robin and Katie for your eyes and expertise.

The Last Days Series:

1. THE LAST DAY ON EARTH

2. THE LONG ROAD HOME

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R.M. Allinson is an Australian author. She grew up in a teeny tiny town called Noorat (which is no longer even officially a town as of the 2011 census) in rural Victoria. After back-packing around Europe and North America in her early twenties, she somewhat accidentally ended up living in Vancouver, Canada for almost 4 years.

She’s currently calls Melbourne, Australia home. She lives there with her Canadian partner and their cat, Gertrude. When not locked away in her study writing, you can usually find her pottering away in the garden.

Get in touch!

@Nosnilla

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www.rmallinson.com

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The Long Road Home

Copyright © 2015 by R.M. Allinson

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organisations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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