Kody Boye - Sunrise

“You think it’s a good idea to go there?” Dakota asked.

“They’ll have seeds,” Jamie said, “and a gardening department.”

“Which means fresh veggies for us!” Steve laughed.

Dakota sighed.

Something in his gut gave him a bad feeling.

They sat in the red pickup in silence. Rose, Steve and Kevin sat in the back; he and Jamie in the front. Dakota looked out the window and watched the scenery roll by, depressed by the gloomy atmosphere of the once-suburban neighborhood. Though not touched by man in any way, physical contact need not be necessary to transform something beautiful into complete and utter chaos.

We’ve learned that lesson.

Nature was the one who always won in the end. Man never prevailed. This lesson had been taught several times over, when Mother Nature killed the dinosaurs and blew Pompeii to dust, and the scene before them showed such lessons. Already, after only two months without humans, plants were starting to creep outside their forced borders. Once-trim lawns grew in total disarray, waist-high grass shifted in the breeze, waving yellowing tips and curtsying to the living who passed, and shrubs bearing the former semblance of animals stretched toward the sky as though beckoning to the heavens, snow gracing their limbs, their needles crusted with ice. Cracks lined the road, unfilled or treated by trucks. Sewer systems made fjords in places low and curved, opening to rivers near the end of the road.

This place, this suburban neighborhood, would soon be gone.

In the end, nature always won.

“How long do you think it’ll take for all of this to be gone?” Dakota asked, tearing his eyes from the road.

“For what to be gone?” Jamie asked, glancing away from the road at Dakota.

“This. The world.”

“I don’t like to think about that,” Jamie said. “No point in it.”

Jamie pulled to a stop at the end of the road, then made a move to flip his turn signal on, but stopped before doing so. A smile touched his lips, and he turned to look at Dakota, then said, “To answer your question though, I don’t know. I’m still holding out hope that someone will get a handle on this whole mess.”

“You really think that’ll happen?” Rose asked. “Especially with the UK gone and all?”

“I don’t know,” Jamie said. “A man can have hope, right?”

Dakota nodded his agreement. A man could have all the hope in the world.

Sadly, he knew that sometimes, even the greatest amount of hope couldn’t move the strongest of walls.

“Steve?” Desmond asked. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“‘Course you can,” Steve said, drawing his attention away from the wall to look at the boy. “What’s up?”

“I’m…not sure how to begin,” the boy said nervously. Sighing, he opened his lips to speak, but stopped before saying a word. His face scrunched with confusion and his eyes were dampening by the second. Steve watched the boy struggle with whatever inner demon was festering inside him, each moment ticking by like a knife slowly sinking into his flesh.

Whatever it is, he thought, seating himself, it isn’t easy.

Then again, what did he expect? He’d never taken Desmond as someone to talk about whatever was bothering him. Always hanging off to the side, avoiding direct gazes, speaking only when necessary and commenting only when the mood was light and absent of tension—he exhibited the very definition of nervous, though whether that was because of whatever he wanted to talk about, Steve couldn’t be sure.

He kicked a leg up and set his calf against his knee, waiting for Desmond to speak.

The boy looked up. Steve forced a smile in response. “Take your time, Desmond,” he said. “I can wait.”

“It’s not that I want to.”

“I know. Some shit you just have to let come out.”

“I’ve been lying about what happened leading up to the day Jamie rescued me, Steve.”

“What?”

“You wouldn’t know,” Desmond said. “At least, I don’t think you would.”

“You were holed up in a photography store,” Steve said. “I remember.”

“I used to work there. Developing photos, fixing cameras, changing light bulbs, processing film, all that.”

“You ever work in a redroom?”

“That was where most of my time was spent, actually.” Desmond smiled. He reached up and ran a hand through his hair, though his expression changed the moment his fingers crested the curve of his neck. It was almost as though he were tracing a button on a sensitive console and trying not to push it. With two fingers poised and stiffened, he messaged the nodule of bone just above his spine, directly where the cord would have split off into the stem, and waited. “Steve?” he finally said.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“If I tell you something, will you keep it between us?”

“You know I will.”

“I’m gay.”

Steve blinked. Desmond’s expression would have made him laugh had the situation not been as severe. “Buddy,” he said, not able to contain the tinge of humor in his voice as he leaned forward. “You do know I’m bi, right?”

“What?”

“I swing both ways, as they say.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Dakota didn’t either the first time I told him,” Steve laughed, leaning back into his seat. “He swore I was screwing with him.”

“Have you ever… you know…?”

“Been with a guy? Sure as hell have.”

“Were you and Dakota ever…”

“No. No matter how much I love the little fucker, I could never see him as anything more than just my best friend. Guess that’s what you get for befriending someone at such a young age.”

“I guess,” Desmond sighed, shaking his head. “I feel stupid for even bringing this up. It shouldn’t even matter anymore.”

“What shouldn’t?”

“The fact that Peter ran off on me.”

At this, Steve frowned and sunk even further back into his seat. Even more unsure of what to say than he had been the moment before, he watched the boy’s eyes for any indication as to what he should say next. Even a slight flicker across his pupils or a bat of an eyelash would have given him something to go on, at the very least.

What the hell am I supposed to say something like that?

Could you say something to that? ‘I’m sorry’ immediately came to mind, but would that even help? Simple pity didn’t seem appropriate in this situation, especially not with the current state in their world, so that was out of the question. He couldn’t grease the bearings with compassion or turn the wheels with any forward momentum, so just what could he do?

After what seemed like an eternity, a tear began to slide down Desmond’s face.

Steve paused, waiting.

Finally, Desmond raised his head and looked Steve directly in the eyes. That action alone was enough to tell Steve to move over to the other couch.

“Peter was my boyfriend,” Desmond said, scooting over when Steve settled in beside him. “The day everything started happening, I was in the redroom when I heard a crash and my boss screaming my name. That day, Peter had tagged along to see what I did at work because he’d only ever heard me talking about it, so when we heard Mr. Barnes calling out to me, I wasn’t sure what to say. He started for the door, but I told him to stop because I didn’t want the pictures to get overexposed.”

“That costs money,” Steve said.

Desmond wiped a tear from his cheek. “At that point, I didn’t think it was anything more serious than him just wanting to talk to me or to have me clean something he’d knocked over, so I started covering the pictures in preparation for whatever it was he wanted me to do. Then it got worse. He wasn’t just yelling anymore, he was screaming. Peter thought he might’ve gotten hurt and was freaking out. He kept trying to open the door, but that only frustrated me even more and I started yelling at him because I didn’t want the film to get destroyed.”