Kody Boye - Sunrise

Seated in the living room with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a cup of warm tea in his hands, Dakota raised his eyes just in time to see a blast of snow cover the window.

Great, he thought. Now I can’t see anything.

Not that there was much to see anyway. The lawn was bare, and with the new wall now firmly in place, anything beyond its scope was out of reach, shadowed just like the window now was.

“Oh well,” he sighed. “Not much I can do about it.” He looked over at Rose. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m well,” she said. “A bit cold though.”

“You want this blanket?”

“That’s nice of you, but no thank you, I’m used to the cold.”

“What part of England did you come from?”

“Wales. It isn’t in England though; it’s just part of Britain. Most people are of the opinion it’s part of England anyway. To answer the question you were probably about to ask, it’s usually cold, but we get more rain than we do snow.”

“So you’re used to the weather then?”

“A little, but not like this.”

Dakota cast a glance down at his cup of tea and sighed, wishing that he could be a microbe or something similar swimming about its surface.

At least it’d be warm.

“Is Jamie going to do something about our food supply?” Rose asked.

“I’m not sure,” Dakota said. “I know that Desmond offered to keep track, but I’m not sure if he’s done it or if he’s even added the new stuff to his list.”

“If the weather keeps up, we’re not going to be able to make supply runs.”

“I know.”

“And if we can’t make supply runs, we’re going to have to eat as little as possible.”

“At least now we can use the snow as water. I think we have a distiller.”

“Can’t be drinking dirty water.” Rose stood. She stretched her arms over her head and crossed the living room, toward the window that he’d just been looking out. She pressed a hand to the glass and held it there for several moments before she pulled it back. Her bony armature reminded him of the inner workings of a clock and mechanical engineering.

How long did she go without food?

She said she’d been stranded at sea for weeks, then had spent the days leading up to her arrival at their place driving across the country, but what did that say? It didn’t lead to any conclusion that she’d eaten anything, albeit something that would keep her going longer than a few hours.

She’s safe. That’s all she has to worry about.

“Where is your boyfriend anyway?” Rose asked.

“I don’t know. Why?”

“I wanted to talk to him about something.”

“He’s probably upstairs going through his parents’ closets.”

“Maybe we’ll get some extra blankets then,” Rose said. Halfway through stretching her arms out again, she looked over at Dakota and frowned, her features visibly softening.

“Something wrong, Rose?”

“Does it bother you that Kevin flipped out over…whatever it was we saw yesterday?”

“A little.”

“I’m worried about his children.”

“He’s a good dad. Remember, he just lost his oldest son and the only friend he had.”

“I know, but he’s unstable. I don’t think we should bring him with us anymore.”

“She has a point,” Jamie said, making his way down the stairs with an armful of clothes. “These are for you, Rose. They were my mother’s, but they look about your size.”

“Thank you, Jamie.”

“No problem,” Jamie said, passing the clothes off to Rose. “But yeah, Dakota, I completely agree with her. Kevin shouldn’t go on supply runs with us anymore.”

“Especially since he was making so much fucking noise,” Rose sighed. “I was afraid we were going to have to deal with a bunch of zombies.”

“I did too, guys, but…” Dakota shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Every party has their nuts with the bolts, Dakota. You should know that.”

“I know.”

“And I’m not saying that to be rude. I know Kevin’s a good guy, I could tell when we had our heart-to-heart, but you can’t dwell in the past, especially when you’re out in the field.”

Dakota watched Rose sift through the clothing Jamie had brought down, then retrieve a pink hand-sewn sweater. She pushed her arms through it, but left it unbuttoned. She gave Jamie her approval with a curt nod. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I know we haven’t had much time to get my living arrangements settled, but I’d prefer if I weren’t around Kevin, if at all possible. He doesn’t make me completely uncomfortable, but I don’t think my presence around his children would be for the best right now.”

“Does anyone know what happened to his wife?” Dakota asked.

“He mentioned something about her yesterday,” Rose said, “but he started talking about his oldest boy and it was lost in the wash.”

“There’s not much we can do to help him,” Jamie frowned. “Unless we take Erik with us on another supply run and have him pick out some meds from the pharmacy, but I don’t think he’s qualified or trained to deal with psych patients. I guess the best thing we can do for Kevin is be his friend. Right now, that’s what everyone needs.”

No kidding, Dakota thought.

Without friends, this world would swallow you whole.

“Dad,” Arnold said. “Can I talk to you?”

Kevin raised his eyes from their place on the floor. Taking a moment to consider both himself and the fourteen-year-old boy that now stood before him, he allowed himself a deep breath, then nodded, gesturing his son forward with a wave of the hand. “How’re you doing?”

“Fine,” Arnold said. “It’s just… I need to ask you something.”

“What is it, son?”

“Does God exist?”

As out of the left field as the question was, Kevin had expected it. Somehow, he’d known this very question would arise in the weeks after his oldest son’s death. It wasn’t hard for children to wonder just what happened after someone died, especially to someone they loved so much.

I should have done better, he thought, setting a hand on his son’s back. I should have taken them to church more.

Back then, before the world had ended, he never worried about taking his sons to church. Each Sunday that passed on the calendar was just another day, a day that could be repeated in the week coming and the week after that. He never worried about the church, his sons or their place in the world. It’ll come again, he’d told himself. There will always be other Sundays. Now, though, he couldn’t be so sure.

With the weight of the world against his shoulders, bearing down on him like a thousand pounds weight, he felt incredible guilt over his recent lack of faith.

The boys… they’re not even saved.

Jessiah had been baptized at the age of seven. It had been one of the few things he and his wife had agreed on back then, before they split after Mark’s fifth birthday. He’d been so preoccupied with his work and being a single father the past few years that he hadn’t even stopped to consider that his other children had never been indoctrinated into the Catholic faith.

Jessiah’s there, he thought, looking up at the ceiling. In Heaven, with God.

He had no doubt about that. Even after laying eyes on the monstrosity within the convenience store, he knew that his son was Saved, that Jessiah was in Heaven with the Holy Creator. But now, after all this time, after all this lack of faith, here came his middle son bearing the shield of honor, the cracked plate of trust. What was he to say to a boy who knew nothing of God or what He was?