Tim Washburn - The Day After Oblivion

“Roger,” Thompson replies. “Conn, left ten-degrees rudder.”

White, the weapons officer, fine-tunes the resolution on his video screen. “One thousand yards to target.”

Thompson nods and crosses his arms. There are currently twelve people on the bridge and it’s quiet enough that Thompson can hear his own heartbeat. He removes his cap, mops his brow, and puts the hat back on. His hand drifts down to his face, where he rubs the stubble on his chin.

Moments later, White says, “Two hundred yards.” Then seconds later, “Direct hit, sir. Both torpedoes.”

This time the cheer on the bridge is not muted. Once the shouts and high fives have died down, Thompson orders the sub to periscope depth. Minutes later the sub levels off and Thompson orders both periscopes up. He takes one and Garcia the other, both walking a circular path until the Chinese destroyer comes into view. The captain triggers the video camera. “Punch periscope one up on the video system,” he orders. When the image of the destroyed enemy ship appears on-screen, the crew’s cheer can be heard all across the boat.

Weatherford

Gunshot victims are a rare occurrence in a small town like Weatherford, and Susan was shocked to find her husband with just that. After berating her husband with a few choice words, she is now tending to the wound while Gage and Holly share a private moment with Olivia in their bedroom.

“What happened to the two men who attacked you?” Holly asks. She pulls up her top and settles the baby against her breast.

Gage spends a moment considering how to frame his answer then says, “They didn’t make it. Let’s just leave it at that.” Gage gently rubs a hand across the fine hairs on his daughter’s head. “Is your milk in?”

“No.”

“Are we worried about that?” Gage asks, tentatively.

“Not yet. The doctor said Olivia should get enough colostrum to satisfy her for a day or two.” She readjusts the baby’s position and uses her free hand to put Olivia’s mouth on her nipple. “How much danger were you two in?”

“Well, it’s never a real good thing to have people shooting at you. I was up in the tower, so your dad got the worst of it. It was mostly over by the time I made it to the bottom.”

“Mostly?”

Gage turns his gaze to his daughter, refusing to look his wife in the eyes. Holly still doesn’t know about his encounter with the Marston family killers. “It was over. I just had to get your dad to the pickup.” Gage pushes up off the bed and stands. “I need to run back out there and tidy up.”

Holly scowls. “What do you mean, ‘tidy up’?”

Gage ignores her question. “Can we run over to my parents’ when I get back?”

Holly moves the baby to the opposite breast. “Yeah, but how long are you going to be gone? How’s the work on the wind turbine going?”

“Not more than an hour or two, hopefully. As far as the turbine goes, we’ll know more tomorrow. But it’s looking good. Hopefully we’ll have the water well pumping soon. I need a bath.”

“I noticed,” Holly says, playfully pinching her nose.

“I don’t think any of us are a bed of roses. How’s the pain?”

“It’s tender as hell down there and you’ll be lucky to ever venture into that territory again.”

Gage smiles. “I’m going to need to venture down there if we’re going to have more babies.” He leans down and kisses Holly on the forehead. “I’ll probably be fighting you off in a few weeks.”

Holly gives his arm a small pinch and bats her eyelashes. “Maybe.”

Gage laughs. “I’ll be back in a bit.” He exits the bedroom and pauses in the kitchen to check on Henry. “How’s the wound look, Susan?”

The bottle of bourbon is sitting on the table, a half-empty glass next to it. Several candles are burning, creating a mix of smells—lavender, vanilla bean, sugar cookies, pumpkin pie—that permeate the room, all courtesy of Bath & Body Works. Susan, equipped with a headlamp, is operating. “It’s pretty clean. I pulled out a couple of threads and did my best to disinfect the area. All that’s left is to bandage him up.”

“I’m here, you know.” Henry says, a slight slur in his voice. “Feels like someone ran a hot poker through my arm, Gage.”

“How’s the medicine going down?” Gage asks.

“It takes the edge off. I’ll know more after the next glass.”

Gage smiles. “I’m going to run out to the turbine and do some tidying up.”

“Want me to come with?” Henry asks.

“No,” Susan and Gage say in near unison. Susan begins wrapping a bandage around her husband’s arm. “You’re gonna sit your butt on the sofa and finish your bourbon.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Henry replies, reaching for his drink with his good arm.

Gage ducks into the utility room and grabs a flashlight. It’s not dark yet, but it will be in a couple of hours and he has no idea how long his task is going to take. He steps outside and heads to the barn for a rope and a shovel, before firing up the pickup.

Minutes later, turning down the road to the turbine, he slows, scanning for other threats. He’s still shocked that two people attacked them just to steal the truck. But when people are desperate, rational thinking goes out the window, Gage surmises. Not seeing anyone, he eases down the gravel drive.

When he nears the first body, he whips the truck around and backs it up. He climbs out and spends a few moments deciphering the best way to approach the issue of body disposal. Neither man is small and Gage estimates that each weighs north of two hundred pounds. Lifting them into the pickup is going to be a chore. Not to mention the worry over the bodily fluids that continue to ooze from both. Gage thinks, briefly, of burying them where they lie but it probably wouldn’t be long before a pack of hungry dogs came along and dug them up. And digging in the hard clay would consume too much time. He makes his decision and lashes the rope around the ankle of the first man and ties it off on the trailer hitch. He climbs back in the truck and drags the first body over to the second. After tying on the second body, he slides behind the wheel, wondering what to do now.

There aren’t any trees or brush piles, only plowed fields in the entire 640-acre section. Dragging the bodies down the road to another piece of property is out of the question. Knowing the fields won’t be worked anytime soon, he drops the truck into gear and steers for the plowed field ahead. When he’s a good distance away from the turbine and somewhat centered in the field, he climbs out and unties the rope, tossing it into the back.

Back on the road, he stops by the Reed home to pick up Holly and Olivia before working their way to the other side of town. Gage pulls into the drive of his boyhood home and climbs out to help Holly and Olivia out of the cab. Gage pauses to take a long, calming breath before approaching the front door. His mother steps out of the house, her eyes red and her cheeks damp. Gage knows his father is gone.

“When?” Gage asks.

“This morning.” Ginny moves aside to allow them in the house and she gets her first glance at her grandchild. She takes the baby from Holly and nuzzles her nose against her soft cheeks. “Aren’t you beautiful…” She glances at Holly. “Which name did you two pick?”

“Olivia,” Holly replies.

Ginny turns back to the baby. “You’re beautiful, Olivia. Welcome to the world.”

Gage steps tentatively into the living room. Raymond Larson is lying on the bed, the sheet pulled up to his chin. Gage shuffles over to the side of the bed and places a hand on his father’s forehead. The skin is cool to the touch and Gage’s hand drifts up where he fingers the last remaining tufts of his father’s silvery hair.