Ike Hamill - Migrators

He woke again to another knock at the door. This was the light, insistent knock of his wife—he would know it anywhere.

“Joe?” Alan asked. His son was already headed for the door.

Liz came in with two big bags.

“Who wants Indian food?”

“Did you get me gaboosh?” Joe asked.

Liz smiled. “It’s not called that.”

“I know,” Joe said. He took the bags to the desk and started pulling cartons from inside.

“You can eat in bed, Alan,” Liz said.

“No, thanks,” Alan said. He made his way from bed to the table next to the window. He pushed open the curtains and looked down on a strip of grass next to the lake. The view was beautiful. Technically, this wasn’t the same lake that emptied into the stream near their house. This was the next lake up in the chain. Somewhere near the southwest corner of this body of water, a little stream spilled over a dam into their lake. Alan sat down. He propped his leg up on the edge of the bed to relieve some of the throbbing from his foot.

Liz brought over a plastic container and set it in front of Alan. The spices smelled wonderful.

“I’ve got a bag down in the car with clothes for us.”

“What?” Alan asked.

Liz took a seat. Joe was still working on dishing out his food—picking out all his favorites.

“Your friend Bob called me after he left here and offered to come pick me up. The two of us went to the house so I could get my car. I figured while we were there, I might as well get us some clothes.”

“Liz, I wish,” Alan started.

“Look, I know you think it’s dangerous, but I didn’t go alone. I had Bob with me. The house is a bit of mess, but everything seems to be in order. They’ve got most of the roads open again except for the big washout. They said on the news that it might take a couple of weeks before that road opens again.”

“I don’t want you going there,” Alan said.

“What? Forever?” Liz asked. She lifted a forkful of rice to her mouth and caught some of it in her hand as it fell.

“It could be dangerous,” Alan said.

“I know. I understand, Alan. That’s why I was careful. Bob and I agreed—it looks like whatever was there is gone.”

Alan sighed. “How can we know? We didn’t know anything was there to begin with.”

Liz frowned and tilted her head a little.

“What are you saying, Alan?”

“Just that it’s dangerous. Maybe.”

“Understood—that’s why I was careful. I didn’t go alone. I went with your friend—the same thing you did last night, right?”

“That was an emergency.”

“Today I had to wear borrowed sweatpants into Sears so I could buy this lovely pantsuit you see on me right now. Your son is currently wearing someone else’s clothes, and you’re wearing hotel pajamas. I think having something to wear was a bit of an emergency as well,” Liz said. She abandoned her fork and picked at her food with delicate fingers.

“Fine,” Alan said. “But can we agree that we will go together next time?”

“Yes,” Liz said.

“And that we won’t move back until after Halloween?”

“I don’t know, honey. We’ve got off-season rates here, but this place is a bit pricey for a whole week, don’t you think?”

“Then somewhere else. We can go to that hotel near the highway,” Alan said. “That’s cheap, right?”

“Okay,” Liz said. “I’ll check into it tomorrow. The convention center is right down the street from there, so it might be full depending on whether there’s a show, but I’ll find out.”

“Is that the one next to the movies?” Joe asked.

“Yes,” Alan said. “We could walk over and see a movie while your mom is at work.”

“Minh has my schedule down to almost nothing next week, so maybe I can come too,” Liz said.

“Even better,” Alan said.

Alan got into bed when Liz turned out the lights, but he couldn’t sleep. It felt like he’d been asleep for a week. He stared at the glowing numbers on the clock. Almost a whole day had passed since his trip to the hospital, and his body felt better already. His eyes didn’t sting or itch. The pills kept his foot to a dull throb. When Liz’s breathing evened out, Alan slipped out of bed. He hopped over to the desk and sat on the rigid chair.

Alan turned on the desk lamp. It had two settings. He chose “Dim.”

He pulled Rick’s book under the small circle of light. Liz stirred and Alan froze. Her slow breathing resumed and Alan turned his attention back to the book. The cover was worn and dirty. There was no title on the cover or spine. It crackled as he open the cover and turned to the title page. In ornate letters, a single word decorated the page—“Diary.”

Alan turned the page.

The text was faded and difficult to read. After squinting at it for several seconds, Alan puzzled out the first line.

“July 7th.”

What year?

“Father has been gone for two weeks. Mother didn’t hoist the pig properly when she bled it. We ate as much as we could, but most of the meat went bad.”

What does this have to do with anything?

Alan flipped through the pages.

“December 13th. It’s so warm out today—we played in the yard after dinner. Branny made a song about a field mouse. He asked me to write it down, but I forgot.”

Alan set the book up on its spine and let it open to where it would. The book opened to a spot about halfway through.

“October 25th. Mother said she’ll bring them to us tonight. She said I would do the same for my daughter, so I should write down the words. Mother’s writing is indecipherable. She said that Father would recite a verse, and then she would speak, and then it will be my turn.”

Under the Father heading, there was a short verse.

Alan read the verse twice. He searched his confused memory, trying to recall if he’d heard those words the night before.

“What are you doing?” Liz asked, her voice thick with sleep.

“Nothing, honey,” Alan said. “Just reading.”

OCTOBER 26

WHEN ALAN pulled up, Bob was outside, working in the yard.

“Hey, how’s the cripple?” Bob asked as Alan got out of the car. “I thought you were supposed to be on crutches.”

“I ditched them,” Alan said. He leaned against the door of his Toyota.

“I see you’ve been back to the house?” Bob asked, gesturing at Alan’s car.

“Yeah, just for a couple of things.”

Bob nodded.

“We’re down at American Suites now,” Alan said. “We moved there today. The Inn was working our budget pretty hard.”

“How long are you staying there?”

“Until the end of the month at least. I don’t know. Joe goes back to school a week from Monday. So maybe we’ll move back next weekend. Still not sure.”

“You think something might happen?” Bob asked. “More trouble?”

Alan looked at the sky. It was a nice afternoon—blue skies with a few puffy white clouds for decoration. The day had warmed into the sixties even though they’d seen frost on the grass that morning.

“You want to take a walk?” Alan asked.

“I’d be happy to. Are you sure you’re up to it?”

“As long as we don’t get too crazy,” Alan said. He motioned towards the path that led to the snowmobile trail.