Continued from chapter 18 of the Devastation Series.
=== Author’s Note ===
As the story twists and turns, let me know what you think. What is going to happen to Jake? Bert? What about Valerie? I imagine the lessons that he is learning as ideas I should be learning. The neat thing about writing is that you do… sort of… get to experience some of the feelings and emotions. So much so, that at times I have had to walk away from the story for a bit – since I needed to force a detach. Again, thank you for reading and I enjoy writing this so much. I have always desired to complete a full-length novel and dag-nab-it… I am doing it. Thanks for your patronage.
ww. joe
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I was startled awake. I was being jarred from the man’s boot as he kicked my sleeping sack. He was not attempting to hurt me, but it was obvious that he had some message that he wanted to convey immediately. It was early and the birds had just started waking the world. “Get up, we need to go.” He barked. I was starting to see that he conveyed short messages and had grown distant from warm pleasantries. I really did not like his subtleties in that sense but overall his to the point was a welcomed addition. I widened my eyes and rubbed my face. I sat up and squinted to see him.
“Yeah, what’s up – everything ok?” I inquired.
“Food.” He said, again to the point. Normally I would have some waking ritual. In one life, I would have had Alexa make my coffee, read me the news, and start the shower when I needed that extra jolt. It was a routine that I had grown accustomed to and repeated the steps mainly out of a comfortable habit. Comfortable habits. The phrase resonated with me. Yet, none of that seemed to matter right now. I caught myself clenching my stomach with the intense pain of emptiness. My current concerns were much more meaningful and important. Not to an on-time start of the day, but the basic pyramid of survival and then possibly some concern for humanity. Thoughts and hunger pains came crashing into my mind. I only managed to squeak out, “Ok… I am up… what?!?” As I got to my knees and stood up I felt even more aches and pains. I realized, that even in Samuel’s apartment, I was on some form of memory foam topped cushions. “I don’t have any food, or know where to go or what to do, ” I groggily stated at the man. His blank stare and the cold response had “newbie”, “rookie”, and “you are not going to make it” all baked into one look.
“Come with me,” he said. With that, I followed him. We exited the building and walked out into the empty streets. It was evident that he was going somewhere. “So, I am sorry… Can I get your name?” He didn’t miss a step and turned, talking at me sideways.
“Bert.”
“Bert, I am Jake…It’s nice to…” I was cut off.
“I am not a talking type.” he professed. And with that, I continued following him through the streets, sidewalks, and alleys. I struggled to keep up, while I coordinated my body from the hangover. We stopped at a church building, I am guessing it was a 1/2 mile away. Sweat started to bead on my forehead as I worked out more than I had in quite some time. His pace was a fast walk and more than my scrawny self was used to – especially at that hour. The sun was not even on the horizon yet, the city was still stirring. I am guessing it was around 5 AM. “Here,” he stopped and gestured towards the entrance of a old church. We walked up a small set of stairs into the lobby. I imagined this was where the congregation caught up in small fellowship and the seasoned people pounced on the couple that looked new. I hated those visits.
We walked down a long corridor with white Jesus paintings in different story narratives. We passed a large set of doors that lead to the sanctuary. The church appeared to be an older one with pews and benches. They didn’t have any modern holograms or any multi-dimensional projectors installed. The smell of old fabric and musty building carried in the air. There was also the hint of mothballs and old-man cologne or old lady perfume that lingered. We continued down the hallway to a small set of doors in the back. A modest-sized kitchen was on the other side followed by a small dining hall. The sweet aroma of oats, sausage, and maple syrup invaded my nose as I turned the corner. My stomach growled uncontrollably like a rabid dog seeing a cat.
I was standing beside Bert at this time, and caught the eye of a middle-aged man, appearing well off, as I was introduced. “Todd, this is a new guy… names, Jake.” He said as an introduction. The gentleman approached me, shook my hand, and welcomed me. It was a warm welcome, but not so warm that I would want to run from the forced love. Bert walked up to the side of the table and motioned me to sit. He walked off into the other room as I sat at the school cafeteria-like table. Bert came back in a few moments with two heaping plates. More food on a plate than I would see on my dinner table, even on a day that I was hungry. But that was then… Now, this looked like just enough.
The tray was also a cafeteria-style and was overflowing. There was a small bowl in one of the top sections with what looked like brown sugar/maple oatmeal. A couple of pieces of fruit garnished the top. An apple and banana were cut and placed in the center section with sausage links steaming on the right. A couple of boiled eggs were on the lower left while the entree section was filled with pancakes. The pancakes were stacked so that they wobbled with an avalanche of butter streaking down the side. Syrup painted the entire stack and pooled at the base of the batter mountain. The mixture of smells made me sick to my stomach from hunger. I had never felt such a paradox of feelings at the same time. For dessert, there was a protein-packed granola bar that we wound up taking with us for that “just-in-case” moment. I imagined that it would be more about rations now.
The taste was heavenly. The landed in my empty stomach like a large boulder. The meal was warm, filling and even the warmed up sausages were delicious. Midway through the meal Todd came over to me and sat down. He asked me about life, where I was from, how long I had been living on the streets, and if I was saved. I cleared my mouth and lightly engaged. “I am new to the streets. It is something that I fell into and my faith is weary at best. It is hard right now… considering…” Todd nodded with the typical understanding and warm body language responses. I did not like being studied, feeling like every motion was being judged. I imagined it was a small price to pay for the nutrition that he provided. After a few moments of observation, he turned his attention to Bert. A small conversation formed and I head Bert talk more than I had the entire time that I had been around him. There was a relationship there, that went way beyond meals, but I could not decipher where it originated. I lost focus midway in their conversation and devoured the plate in front of me.
After several minutes the plate went from full to empty. I had hardly noticed Bert eating his plate as well. He did not finish all of it and when I looked up he was putting the rest in a small cardboard to-go box. He packed up the box and called to me, “Jake, let’s go…” And he got up with that and didn’t even look towards me. Todd met us at the door, with a small brown paper sack as well. “Thank you for the meal…” I got out before Bert left the building.
“You are welcome. Our services are Sunday at 10 and 11 then a smaller service Wednesday’s at 6.” He smiled just like an usher as he opened the door. I exited and took a few hurried steps to catch up with Bert, who was several feet away now. As I scurried to catch up, I called to him, “Bert, wait up…” and without looking back he said in the wind “You have some things to learn kid.” Slightly puzzled, I inquired what did he mean? I am a grown adult. Managed a household before the divot that am currently in, held a reputable job… I wondered who he was – he was obviously not doing better… I caught myself passing judgment until I realized that I was walking in his shadow.
“Bert, I appreciate your help and guidance. I do… but I do not understand what you mean by that? I mean…”
“You mean what? You were sniveling in the cold rain when I pulled you into the warmth. You have this all figured out – do ya?” He was not mean by it – but a piercing sarcasm rolled off of his tongue.
“Bert… I am sorry if I offended you. I am trying to understand…” I assertively pleaded. And with a scoff, we continued back across the city to the abandoned building. We walked back to his small room and he pulled out a cooler, opened the lid, and placed the leftovers and small brown bag in. “Put yours in to if ya-like.” His manners were confusing. A moment ago I had assumed he was pissed off at me and at that moment he was offering to share something. Although confused, I complied, placing my small bag inside. Bert shut the cooler and tucked it away again.
“It’s peanut butter and sometimes jelly…” He called out. I realized that he had a routine and he had some sort of cadence to himself; his way of doing things. “I have a small stash of things if you get hungry. It’s not much, but it sustains me.” He generously reassured me. “Kid – I am sorry that I have been grumpy. I don’t really dooo… people. I don’t have a lot of anything – but what I do have, is mine.”
“I picked up that you’re really a teddy bear, it shows…” I smirked. “Thank you for everything. Everything is more than I have at this point…” He pursed his lips and sort of looked me up and down as if he was sizing me up. He looked away, and a glimmer flashed from the corner of his eye.
“Out here – handouts usually have a cost. The church service is the admission for continued meals at the church. Almost every other day – they have a small portion to share. I am usually there, now you… A couple of people that come around here that are worth a damn… I showed them.” The assertive prideful tone was carried out from his chest.
“Well… thank you…That sounds like a nice thing to do for others… You’re just showing me that teddy-bear again…” I snickered.
“Don’t get used to it, ” he quickly countered. After a few minutes of slightly awkward silence, I asked him what we would do next. His reply, “Whatever we want…”
He grabbed a couple of books out from behind where he had slept. There was a small cube area, resembling a bookshelf. In it, he had a couple of books, a small flashlight, several business cards, and a picture that I could not make out. He put a few things, in his bag. I did not watch him. Bert slung his backpack over his shoulder and called to me to follow him. I decided to fit in and grabbed my backpack as well which burbled when the giant glass bottle’s liquid slushed side to side. In no longer than it took him to don his bag, he was already out of the room. When I caught up to him, he asked me. “Do you like water – or scenery?” I was slightly perplexed by the question and answered a simple “yes.” He shook his head and took a step forward like he was hiking across the plains.
The drones zoomed overhead. Our masks were around our necks and the breeze from the walk brushed against my whiskered face. It felt wrong. It had been some time since I intensionally went without a mask. Most of the time, I was in a daze and then would panic when I would realize that I was breaking the rules. The aromas of the city trickled under my nose unfiltered by some form of a mask. I sometimes forgot what organic smell was like considering that I had purifiers or odor-reducing extras in most of my masks. The dingy city, the fresh-cut grass, the trash dumpster, and soured water stirred together for a delightful paradox. The drones were actively scanning, but moved right past Bert and I. At first I assumed it was something to do with the way we walked or the angle of the scan. Until I observed several passed units scanning both Bert and myself. It was then that I realized that we had fallen off of the societal bus. I tested the theory by attracting attention to myself and even starred a military-grade drone down. Every attempt was met with the same dismissal of my presence.
We wander down side streets and alleys for nearly 30 mins. The animals didn’t move and if they did make contact it was to stake a claim of some territory. “Bert – I assume you know where you are going, right?” He looked sideways at me trailing him and pressed forward. The city became darker where we traveled. Buildings towered over the alleyways while we weaved in and out of sidewalks. I was sure that we were taking a shortcut since we followed no normal street path. The sun was approaching overhead by that time, so I guessed it was between 9 and 11. Time didn’t carry the same significance – other than the heat or potential sunburns. I flipped the collar on my shirt to cover my neck. As I became warmer, I took my overshirt off and alternated wearing it over my head as we well as a cape. The gentle wind served poetic justice as the shirt tailed behind me waving towards anyone that followed. After what seemed like miles of walking, Bert called out to me trailing. “Halfway!” I am surprised he did not say something about the “uhhhgggg” that escaped me or perhaps the eyeroll that I was sure he could feel.
The homeless stood out to me now. Sitting on corners with smeared writing on cardboard sheets or boxes. The messages ranged from help requests, job offers, and religious persuasions. All with varying levels of desperateness and honesty. One gentleman even carried a sign proclaiming to be a profit that used beer to see the future. I was certain that he was not the messiah, but did appreciate the chuckle… I concluded, at some point, why not? That question resonated with me beyond seeing that man. Bert did not act like them. I could see no evidence of begging, and if there was a sense of being desperate, it was not overtly obvious to me. Most people were scraggly, and their clothes filthy. Bert had no repulsing odor and kept a beard that was attended to from time to time. His clothes were aged and showed signs of dirt and wear but did give a hint of a lack integrity about them. It was as if he realized his place and was dressing for work each day. I became more intrigued as time went on.
The building continued to get closer and closer while the lighting dimmer and grayer. It was like doing some dungeon on a video game. Most of our weaving was through alleys and between buildings. I had lost track of where we were long ago and held on to hope that Bert was not taking me for a snipe hunt. The towering shadowy ruins were high overhead. Even daylight struggled to make itself known in these seeming depths of Mordor. “Bert, ” I called out. I felt like a whiny child on a car trip. “Just tell me you’re on plan…” His head slightly looked to the side but did not acknowledge my presence. He continued to weave and dive deeper into the distance slowly placing more distance between us. Then finally at one point, he vanished. “B-E-R-T?!?!” I hollered after him. I followed what I observed from behind; straight and a sharp left. As I rounded the corner, I saw a fence. An aged fence with daylight on the other side.
I walked closer to the opening. As if it was a doorway to a new world, the buildings disappeared. A hard stop to city life and jump to… a beautiful farm. It was like an oasis inside of the city. The breeze was strong and the blades of tall grass danced before me shimmering in the bright sunlight. Bert was standing at the fence with his hands in the links. The wall resembled a prison line and the other side was actually greener. “Beautiful… isn’t it?” He almost whispered into the wind.
“I cannot believe…” but the words wandered off as quickly as they came to me. I followed Bert through a hole he opened by pulling back the links from the post. The entire fence appeared to be strong, sturdy, and intact, well until we shimmied through the slit opening.
I imagined we looked like country people that I read about in the books during high school. My hands sifted over the tops of the tall grass as we made our paths. The sun was no longer hidden or oppressive overhead. My nose tickled with all of the pollen across the open plains. Bert continued walking ahead and I continued to follow. A small pond was over the hill and a large tree beside it. The perfect tree overlooked the side of the hill. Ripples bounced over the top of the water while ducks bobbed for food while others bathed. The lush grass was trampled down around the tree and a circle lined with rocks and charcoal rested a few feet ahead. This was a common spot.
After settling in we both leaned against the tree adjacent to one another. Bert opened his bag and like Felix pulled out exactly what I was imagining at the ideal time. My stomach had started to growl as we neared the tree. Bert pulled out the two brown bags from this morning and a couple of pocket pressed granola bars that were shaped like the placement in his bag. He also pulled out two books. He looked at the spines and picked one. He gestured the other one at me, and I looked at the cover. The printing had faded from all of the miles it had traveled and the pages were randomly dog eared from being carried and multiple uses. I studied it for a moment and thought about how long it had been since I turned pages in a book. The smell of the yellowed paper and faded messages from several hand-me-downs took me back to my childhood. We sat at the pond, tree side, while the sun moved from overhead to a westernmost position. My eyes grew heavy from all of the reading and I learned back to take the cool patches of a warm breeze in. I dozed off.
It was so peaceful, sitting there. Nothing mattered in those moments. I had a strange trust for my new friend and all of my worries were in the clouds. Gray rain clouds formed in the distance and Bert and I watched as the vanished over the skyline. “Hey, Bert – shouldn’t we get back to your place?” The thought of leaving your things unattended was foreign to me. I had security cameras and digital devices to watch my digital devices. Alexa maintained a virtual inventory on a map for me, room by room. RFID did not matter out here, and it would become more apparent with the fading time. I had forgotten, by then, what time it was – or what I would have been doing not that long ago. It simply didn’t seem to matter now. Bert turned to me and addressed me face to face this time.
“There is nothing there for me, more than there is for me here. Now. What I call mine… there… is as safe as it needs to be. If someone needs it worse than me… so be it…” And with that, he shrugged and gazed over towards the horizon. It took some time for me to grasp what he meant by all of that. I began down a warped road of what-ifs and imagined things just walking off from sticky fingers. I was more worked up about it than I imagined he would be if someone took the things in front of him. It took me a long time to get over the mine-mentality.
As the night settled in, I grew concerned about how we would get back. As if he read my mind, he started talking. “We will stay here for the night Jake. We will build a fire and be just fine. We do have some work to do if you want to eat tomorrow though…” He chuckled. He must have sensed the uncertainty in my gut. “We will be fine Jake. I have done this many times.” He again dug in his bag and pulled out a couple of zip bags. The sun was behind the trees but plenty of daylight was present. Inside of the small pouches were the basic items in a survival kit. It was just like the ones that I added to my cart so many times – but never pulled the trigger on. I would never do that… I would think to myself.
He pulled out a small spool of twine and proceeded to rig up 6 fairly large hooks. “Trot-line… Jake…” He talked at me as he continued to set up. “I need you to dig for some night-crawlers… can you do that?”
“It’s been a long time…” I replied.
“Doesn’t change much over the years…” He grinned back at me. I got up from the formed earth that I had been resting on and walked around the outside of the pond. I overturned sticks, rocks, logs, and some lumber that was left from someone’s project long ago. I found a small styrofoam cup tucked into the weeds and placed the worms in as I found them. Their long slimy bodies stretched as I pulled them from the ground. After I had collected about a half dozen, I walked back up to the spot we were sitting at. I watched him tediously bait each hook by wrapping the large critters over the tines of the hooks. After the hooks disappeared, he stood up and walked around the pond until he found just the right spot. A small peninsula like inlet wrapped around some reeds. He tossed the hooks about ten feet into the pond and pounded a stick into the ground with a flat rock by where he was standing. He tied the other end of the twine to the stick to act as a stake or rod. “That’s that,” he said as he wiped his washed hands-off on this pant legs.
“Now – we need some wood.” We proceeded to collect armfuls of small logs and branches that we broke down into smaller kindling. We went to the homemade pit and stacked some of the wood into the center. We packed the logs with tinder and found dried branches to catch first. With the light becoming more scarce he again dug into his little kit. He pulled out a cylinder and unscrewed the top. A small flint appeared in his hands and he leaned over the pit. It was not that long until the orange glow could be seen in a dry wad of grass. He blew into the grass as bellows would to a fire. The orange twinkled in the shadows and a yellow flame popped up like magic from his hands. He carefully turned the grass to set it ablaze and lit the tinder. In a matter of minutes as the pink highlighted the sky, a small fire popped and crackled before us. The warms mild but nice in the evening air.
Bert pulled out a couple cut off soda bottles and handed me one. “Pour us a glass of your bubbly.” He said.
“My what?” I inquired.
“I am tired of water today and don’t feel like straining the pond. May I have a glass of whatever is burbling in your bag?” I felt silly not realizing what he meant, but was happy to oblige. It was the first time that I was excited to sip it – with someone – and enjoy the moment. Not forget the day. The large bottle was 3/4 full, and full of bubbles from all of the movement hiking across the country. I unscrewed the cap and filled his glass followed by mine. It was not chilled… but that didn’t matter. It was peaceful and everything I had imagined a get-a-way to be. Minus the homeless fugitive scenarios. After a little bit more reading, we refilled our glasses. The books were splayed open on our legs and the firelight was bright enough that we could still read. We carried a small conversation. Superficial really, but we learned about what we dream about now. Foods, movies, how tech has changed everything. We didn’t talk about who we were or how the pandemic changed us. Those conversations would happen in a short time.
We topped off our glasses, stoked the fire, enjoyed the carefree nature of the night, and dozed off against the tree. The leaves rustled in the breeze and the smell of campfire saturated the area. I felt free.
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