Tim Washburn: The Day After Oblivion

They pass a sign signaling the Weatherford exit one mile ahead.

Lauren grabs a strand of hair and curls it around her index finger. “And what about the person responsible for her murder? How do we know he won’t do it again?”

McDowell glances at Lauren. “That is one thing you won’t ever have to worry about.”

Zane takes the Weatherford exit, the off-ramp dumping them onto Washington Avenue.

“Turn right,” Alyx says.

Zane does as instructed. They pass a couple of looted restaurants before entering a residential area. Washington Avenue is lined with a row of small ranch homes, many in need of paint or repair and, instead of curtains, most of the windows are covered with sheets or cardboard. Older-model autos are parked in the driveways, many with mismatched wheels or missing hubcaps.

Zane arches his brow. “This is home, huh?”

“Hey, every town has some undesirable neighborhoods. But there’s not a lot of wealth in these small towns. For many it’s a hardscrabble existence, doing what needs doing and little else. Besides, I was only here for a few summers.”

“You excited to see your family?”

“Of course, and I’m really looking forward to being in one place longer than twenty-four hours.” Alyx glances forward. “Stay on this road as it takes us out of town. I’ll tell you where to turn.”

Zane nods. They enter another residential area, this one a step up from the previous one. The yards are well tended, the cars a little newer, the homes a little larger. After another mile, the neighborhoods fade, giving way to a wide expanse of farmland. Here the homes are few and far between, separated by fields of row crops like soybeans or corn, interspersed with idle fields waiting the next planting.

Alyx scoots to the edge of her seat. “Make the next right. We’re not far now.” She looks back to make sure Stan’s truck is still following and finds it is. She has mixed feelings about Stan’s group trailing them to her parents’ home—most of them selfish. Her homecoming will be short-lived and there will be no quiet time with her family, time she was hoping to use to assimilate Zane into the family. But it is what it is. “The next road to the left is their driveway.”

Zane nods. “Looks like a nice spread.” He glances over at Alyx and smiles. “Where’s your dad keep the tractor?”

Alyx laughs. “In the barn. There’s a small apartment on the second floor inside the barn and that’s probably where we’ll be staying. If you play your cards right, we might have a little midnight hanky-panky involving the tractor.”

Zane grins and glances out the side window. “Hey, it just registered with me that some of the homes have lights on.”

“I bet Dad and Gage got some of the turbines working. That means we’ll have water and other creature comforts we haven’t had for a long time.”

Zane turns into the drive. “I’ll settle for a bed.”

“That, too,” Alyx says. She’s tapping the dash with her hand and pumping her right leg. “Do me a favor, Zane. Will you hold off the others until I have a chance to see my family?”

“Absolutely. He wheels into the circle drive and kills the engine. Alyx kicks her door open and races toward the house. She takes a deep breath then twists the knob and barges into the house. “I’m home,” she shouts. The initial response is not what she was expecting, and Alyx’s gaze sweeps the room. Her sister is sitting on the couch, cradling a screaming infant and crying, while their mother looks on, her face a mask of worry. After overcoming her initial surprise, Alyx’s mother stands from her chair and hurries across the room, wrapping her older daughter in an embrace. “What’s going on?” Alyx whispers to her mother.

“Holly’s milk hasn’t come in and we have nothing to feed the baby. Been going on most of two days. Your father and Gage are out looking for baby formula.”

Alyx kisses her mother on the cheek. “Hold on.” She turns, sticks her head out the door, and shouts: “Zane, bring the baby formula.”

“You have formula?” Susan Reed asks, her eyes as big as Frisbees.

“Yes. We got some from Sarah—never mind, it’s a long story that’s going to have to wait.”

“And Zane?”

“ Not a long story—he’s the one.”

Zane enters, carrying two cases of infant formula. “Where do you want them, Ms. Reed?”

“It’s Susan, and on the kitchen counter.” She and Alyx follow Zane into the kitchen as Holly pushes up from the sofa and hurries over, the baby still wailing.

“You must be Holly,” Zane says, leaning forward to grab a clean bottle from the windowsill over the sink. He twists off the nipple, adds water to the bottle, and adds a scoop of powdered formula.

“I’m Zane.” He screws on the nipple and shakes it up before handing the bottle to Holly. “Alyx says you haven’t yet decided on a name for your baby.”

Alyx sidesteps her mother and wraps an arm around Zane’s waist.

Holly inserts the nipple into the baby’s mouth, and the sudden quiet is a welcome relief. “Olivia, Zane. Her name is Olivia.”

“A beautiful name, for a beautiful little girl.”

“Thank you,” Holly says. “I hope my sister keeps you around for a while.”

“Me, too,” Zane replies, glancing at Alyx. “You tell your mother yet?”

“Wha—no. Mom, we’re not the only ones to show up on your doorstep today.”

Susan’s eyes open wider. “What do you mean?”

“Look out the window.”

Susan strides to the window, glances out, and gasps. “Is that Stan?”

Alyx and Zane join her at the window. “Yes,” Alyx says, “and believe me, that’s another long story.”

Weatherford

Gage is seething. They’ve been to two different neighborhoods and Henry still can’t recall exactly where Dr. Stone lives.

Henry glances at Gage. “It’s not my fault, Gage. I bet I haven’t seen Dr. Stone in five years or more.”

Gage white-knuckles the steering wheel.

“Let’s try that new neighborhood north of town. Now that I think about it, I recall him telling me that he and Harriet had moved out there.”

Gage wants to yell, Why didn’t you think of that sooner? but doesn’t. Clenching his jaw, he steers onto North Washington Avenue, mashing the gas. He jerks the wheel to veer around a dead truck then jerks the wheel back, the tires on the old truck barking.

Henry rubs his injured arm. “We’re not going to be a damn bit of good to anyone if we’re dead.”

Gage glances over at his father-in-law and eases up on the gas. “We really don’t have time to be driving all over town.”

“She’s my only grandchild, Gage. We’re all on the same team, here.”

Gage exhales a long breath. “I know. I just feel so damn helpless.”

“I know and I feel the same. The only thing we can do is find that baby some formula.”

They ride in silence for a few moments, passing another neighborhood, then the high school, before Gage turns into the new addition. “Do you know which street?” Gage asks.

“No. Drive around a bit. Now that we’re here, I think we came to a Christmas party at his house several years ago. I’ll know it when I see it.”

Gage stifles his sigh and drives down one street, turns, and drives up another.

Henry scoots to the edge of his seat and leans forward. “I think we’re getting close. I remember he had a big oak tree in the front yard.”

Gage makes a right turn at the end and pulls down another street.

“There it is,” Henry says, pointing.

Gage’s heart plummets. He pulls into the drive of a fairly large home, a FOR SALE sign staked in the middle of the yard. “Goddammit,” Gage mutters.