Lake Yixa (8 page)

     
Meow
.

     
"Tux?"
she said, looking around for him. He sat on the far side of the couch.
"You don't know me, but my name is Sarah." Tux just sat there looking
at her, his eyes flashing in the candlelight.

     
"I'm friends
with Liam," she said before pausing for a moment. "I'm sorry, but
Liam was killed. He won't be coming home."
A moment later,
Tux jumped off the couch and headed toward the bedroom, vanishing into the
darkness.

     
Sarah sat there,
not really thinking of much. A sadness had washed over her when she talked
about Liam never coming home again. Even though they had only known each other
a week, she felt as though she had seen him before and knew everything about
him.

     
Sarah lay down on
the couch, not wanting to sleep in Liam's bed. He would have insisted on her
taking it, she was sure, but she would feel better if she slept on the couch.

     
Sarah drifted into
sleep and began to be plagued by nightmares. She tossed and turned for several
hours before waking up. She found Tux sitting
on the coffee table, staring
at her.

     
"It's
cold," she said as she watched her breath in the single candle she left
lit. "Want under?" She lifted up the blanket, and
Tux
jumped over the couch and curled up next to her.
She fell into a deep sleep
soon afterward.

     
Sarah wasn't sure
of the time when she finally woke up. Tux was gone, and the candle had burned
itself out. She lay there for a while, wondering if it was even daytime.
I blocked the windows rather well
, she
thought.
She stood up
,
went over to one of them
,
pulled the
blanket aside
,
and moved the curtain. The bright beams of sunlight
shined through the cracks in the storm windows. She went about uncovering the
windows to let in some light. It was still dark, but she could see what she was
doing just fine. She opened up a box of crackers she had found the night
before.

     
It didn't take
long for her to eat the small amount of crackers she let herself have for
breakfast.
Sarah
spent the rest of the morning looking through a
closet next to Liam's bedroom. She felt weird about it but knew she had to find
supplies.
Sarah
discovered
a camping backpack and a
bedroll.
Setting
the stuff on the table in the kitchen
,
Sarah
packed a bit of
food and a single change of clothes
, a
long with candles, matches,
and the books she had taken from the other house.
Sarah
looked through
Liam's pots and pans, found the two lightest and smallest ones she could, and
put them into the pack. It wasn't very full, but if she had to leave really
fast, she at least had some things to take.

     
Sarah went outside
into the afternoon sun. It was much colder than she thought it would be, but
the warmth on her face from the sun felt good. She went back to the shed and
found a beautifully carved pocket knife. It had a tribal look to it—a long
flowing feather on one side and a river on the other. She put the pocket knife
into her pocket and picked up a toolbox.

     
Sarah
opened the toolbox,
pul
ling
out a hammer and a box of nails. She
went
back to the house and started to nail the storm shutters shut. After a while,
she went inside to get a drink of water. As she sat at the kitchen table, Sarah
scanned the room. A rifle sitting above the doorway caught her eye.
She
jumped
up and
retrieved
the rifle
. She had never used a gun before and wasn't too fond of them, but with
all that had happened, she figured she better have one. She hoped she would
never have to use it.
Looking
around for some ammo
,
she
ended up
finding two boxes
in Liam's bedroom
. Both
boxes
were pretty low
on ammo
,
and she wasn't sure what ammo was for the gun. The
size of the bullets in one box made her think they were for a handgun, and Liam
did have a handgun when he first got to town. One box read
308 win.
The other read
.45
.
She figured the longer of the two must have been for the rifle.

     
She started to
turn and head out of the room when a photo on the mirror caught her eye.
Sarah pulled it off the mirror.
It showed a young Liam standing with a woman and a
young boy. The face of the woman looked familiar. Sarah wondered if she
still
lived
around town. She put the photo back and went out and put the ammo into her bag.

     
Sarah wasn't ready
to try and load the rifle. She hoped that Liam had the manual for it somewhere
but really didn't think he did. She didn't really know what else to do; she didn't
want to go back outside. It was cold, and she felt much safer inside. She could
look through more of Liam's things, but that felt weird, and she figured she
could do that later. The house was cold, so Sarah made up her mind to make a
small fire.

     
She set about
making the fire, hoping not to make tons of smoke. She used a bit of newspaper
she found sitting by Liam's chair and one of the logs she brought in last
night.
 
Before she started it, she did
her best to
create a
rig
to place a pan on.
The fire burned
rather large at first, and she hoped it would die down quickly—
s
he
didn't
want the smoke to be seen or smelled by any bandits.
This feels nice
,
she thought as she sat in
front of it. It had been a while since
she had felt a fire
.

     
She got a heavy
cast iron pan from the kitchen and set it carefully on the rig she had made to
hold it. She put
the
baked beans
she had found the night
before into the pan and let them warm over the fire.

     
"Oh, God,
this tast
es good,
" she said aloud as she took a bite.

     
Sarah got up and
rummaged through her backpack. She found the three paperback books
she
had stashed
.

     
"
The Arch Angels
,
Burning Blood
, and
The Dancer
,"
Sarah read aloud. "Which one should we read, Tux?" She dropped
The Dancer
and
Burning Blood
and returned to the fireplace with
The Arch Angels
. Tux sat down next to
her. She spent the rest of the evening reading by the fire.

     
Sarah woke up
early in the afternoon. She had had another terrible night’s sleep, haunted by
bad dreams of friends and loved ones being ripped apart by zombies and Liam's
death replaying over and over.
 
Sarah
sat there,
zoned out while eating her crackers, when she heard the front doorknob rattle.
Sarah
stopped
mid-bite and turned slowly toward the door. She watched as the knob rattled
again.
Sarah
got up slowly and move toward the rifle she had left
by the couch.
Sarah
listened as the person went to the window closest to
the door. The storm
shutters
giggled
as
they tried to open them. Sarah let out a small sigh of relief as the nails
held.
They
moved on to the
next one. Sarah didn't want to just hide in here till the
y
break in.

     
Sarah moved as
quietly as she could toward the front door. She knew they had to be making
their way toward Liam's bedroom window. She had a few seconds to open the door,
go right, and turn around the corner.
Sarah wasn't ready to point a
gun at anyone, but if she didn't, she could be killed. She kind of hoped it
would just scare them and they would run off.
She prayed it wasn't the men
from the boats.

     
She clicked the
lock, swung the door open, and ran out. As she rounded the corner, she saw a
man standing
by the house
who looked to be in his mid-to-late thirties. He
had
short, messy black hair and a face full of stubble. He stood frozen in place,
eyes fixated on the rifle Sarah had aimed at him.

     
"What do you
want? Get out of here!" she shouted.

     
The man said
nothing; he just stared at her, his face filled with fear.

     
"I mean it.
If you don't get out of here, I will shoot you dead," she shouted, hoping
he wouldn't call her bluff. Just then, the sound of two kids screaming and
shouting came from the woods behind her. She sidestepped away from them as they
ran by.

     
"Daddy,
Daddy! Don't hurt him!" they said together. She stood still, stunned. She
didn't know what to say or do. Everyone just stood looking at one another. The
kids held their father around his leg and waist, crying.

     
"Please let
us go. We won't come around here," the man finally said.
His voice is deep and could be intimidating
if he was mad
, she thought. "I promise. They were just hungry, and I
was hoping to steal some things. I didn't know anyone was here. I thought it
had been locked up for the winter—" the man continued until Sarah cut him
off.

     
"Stop! Just
stop talking," she said. She wanted them to go away, but she couldn't just
send the kids away hungry. She didn't have a lot, but she still needed to help
them out.

     
"We—" he
started to say.

     
"I said
stop," she interrupted. "What's your name?" she asked finally.

     
"Jeremy
Baker," he said.

     
"What about
the kids?"

     
"Matt and
Zoe."

     
Sarah looked at
them for a while. They all were covered in dirt and didn't look too well off.

     
"I'm Sarah.
Let's go inside and get you guys a little bit of food."

     
"Are you
sure? We don't want to put you out."

     
"It’s fine.
Let's just get inside. Never know what's around." She lowered the rifle
and went back around toward the front door. She heard him whisper to the kids,
"It will be okay. She seems like a nice lady." She wasn't sure how he
could say that, for she did just hold a rifle on him, but he was just trying to
reassure the kids. The Baker family soon followed her into the house.

     
"Over
there," Sarah said, pointing at the table in the kitchen. She then got out
a can of creamed corn.
I will be helpful,
but they have to eat the bad stuff
, she thought as she opened it.

     
"Sorry, it’s
creamed corn." She poured the can into a small pot.

     
"No, it’s
fine," Jeremy said, looking at it in the pot. She could see the hunger in
his eyes.

     
"Going to
heat it up a bit, if that's ok," she said, moving to the fireplace. The
embers
still burned
softly, and she set the pot right on top of them. As
Sarah
sat there
crouched
,
waiting for the corn to heat up, she studied the
family.
The kids had the same hunger in their eyes as their father. Their faces
were streaked with dirt, and their clothes were tattered and ripped. Zoe held
on to a ragged Anna doll. Matt had a GI Joe of some kind in his hand.

     
"I'm sorry I
pointed a rifle at you."

     
"It's ok
ay
. I was trying
to break in after all," Jeremy said with a half-smile. Sarah turned,
grabbed the pot, and returned to the kitchen.

     
"Mind getting
a few bowls out of the cupboard right there? Spoons are in that drawer over
there." She pointed with the pot in hand. Jeremy got up and got four
bowls.

     
"None for me,
thanks. I have eaten."

     
He put a bowl back
and set the other three out on the table. She scooped out a bit of corn into
each bowl. She barely had time to move the wooden spoon out of the way before
the kids started to wolf it down. Jeremy was a bit more polite about it but,
nonetheless, ate quickly.