Encounters
Early the next morning, before the girls even stirred, Sloane snuck out of the house through the back kitchen door to see that the pots were generally empty; only little rivers of water leaned in the curvature of their lowest depths. Most of the meager snowfall had long melted into the mud.
The girls were fevered and they needed more than the mouthful she could accumulate had she decided to pour each container’s worth into one glass. Determined, she gathered up all of their empty water bottles inside her backpack and grabbed one of the larger containers from the ground where it sat. With her Glock in hand, she would make this a quick and successful trip to the pump the stranger said was on the other side of the barn. Of course, she knew whomever it was would watch her every move and perhaps it was a trap, but it was a chance she had to take. The girls were sick and she had to take the chance.
She found herself running quickly and in near-panic across the hill toward the far end of the barn. She glanced back once at the house before it was out of sight. Now she was having second thoughts about having not awakened Wren before she left but it was too late for that now; there was no turning back.
When she reached the side of the enormous old barn, her chest heaved with the cold air stinging her throat. She laid herself flat against its surface and looked around, weapon raised. She peeked around the back corner ever so carefully. And there it was, a purple bucket against an old-timey pump.
She looked to the woods and thought that if there was someone there, she’d never see them. Then, terrified that it might be a trap set by the soldiers, her legs shook with fear while in her mind, she tried to calm herself, logically reasoning that it was just someone else trying to hide from them too. Her muddy boot inched forward. She made herself move slowly in case of any movement, watching as though this were her last stand, and any minute measured shift would send her into a fight to the death. Then she took cautious steps out in the early morning dawn. Footfall after footfall, her boots crunched the frozen grass beneath her. Only twenty feet away she continued to scan every possible angle until she stood on the broken concrete of the pump platform.
A large purple bucket at her feet was already half full with glorious water. Only a small circle of ice floated like a crystal island within the tiny ocean. Such a precious life source so abundant, yet so far away when desperate for a wet drop. Immediately she knelt and began to submerge the empty water bottles in her backpack while continuing to search her surroundings for any sign of an attacker.
When she was done with that task, having filled ten bottles, she pushed the bucket out of the way and then stood and lifted the lever for the pump and began wrenching the handle down once, twice and a third time then cold water gushed from the spigot into her container. Some of it splashed outside and she thought herself wasteful. Finally, it was almost too full to carry and she wondered how she would be able to hold her gun and carry the pot at the same time. There was no way to do it well; she’d have to make a decision—holster the weapon and carry the pot with two hands with the backpack on her shoulders.
She took another hard look all around her and decided to take the chance and reluctantly holstered her weapon. Then she donned the loaded backpack and knelt down to lift the full container of water. She didn’t want to have to come back for more later, so she reasoned that she only wanted to do this once today. She started hurrying down the crusty grass when she heard a male voice call out to her, “Hello!”
Startled and terrified, she slipped on the frozen grassy hill. The pot of water turned toward her in that moment as she reached to brace her fall, and two gallons of water landed on her chest as she lay on her back on the frozen ground, drenching her chest entirely.
She twisted to her side as a dark shape began to approach her and wrenched her Glock from her holster. Her damp and dripping hair covered her face so that her vision was obscured.
“I’m sor…” the voice began.
“Don’t come closer!”
“I won’t, I won’t.”
When her vision cleared, a man stood only ten feet from her with his hands in the air.
“I swear to God, I’m not here to hurt you.”
“I don’t care who you swear to. If you take one step toward me, I’ll kill you.”
“Look, I’ll even back up three paces. I just see that you got my note. I thought I’d introduce myself.”
“I don’t care who you are. I have sick children or we would have left already. I need to get them well and then we’ll leave, I promise. Just please give me a few more days.”
“I’m not trying to kick you out. I saw you ladies come in during the storm. You’re welcome to stay here. It’s pretty safe. No one has come around here yet.”
“Are you the caretaker?”
“Well, sort of. I’m the second cousin of the guy that haunts that house.” He pointed toward the house with a raised finger. He was trying to be funny and she sort of believed him.
“It’s not haunted.”
“Whatever you say. It’s creepy enough. Look, I’m a doctor. I came out here to check on my mom’s place on my way to Portland and just happened to be here when the wave hit. I can take a look at your girls. I’m an internal medicine doctor.”
She moved the damp hair away from her face and studied him for a moment. He was tall man with light brown hair and even in these times he wore what you’d expect to see a doctor wearing, a mildly plaid button-up shirt and through the v of his neck she could see a crisp white undershirt. His jacket wasn’t one for the rugged outdoors but one a doctor would wear over his shirt in cold weather. He was clean-shaven even still, with only a hint of a shadow on his face. He wore dark wash jeans and had on expensive leather hiking boots. She knew the type, career driven. He was handsome and said all the right things so far, but she could never trust him. She glanced at the pot on the ground but still held him at gunpoint. “No, that’s okay.” She began to move away from him and farther down the hill toward the house and her children.
“I swear to you, I’m a friend. It’s only me here. I haven’t even talked with anyone since this began.”
“Look, I don’t need your help. I just need a few more days here to get my girls well and then we’ll leave.” She continued a few more steps away.
He nodded. “Okay, stay as long as you need to. Seriously, it’s just me and I would never hurt you. If you need me to look at your daughters, I’m right here. Just knock on the door.”
She glanced at him like he was crazy.
“You sure you don’t want to refill the water?” he asked, pointing at the empty pot.
Now she was annoyed and drenched. “I have enough for now,” she said and pointed toward her backpack.
“Okay,” he said, getting the hint, and backed away with a charming smile on his face.
She lowered her gun and stalked back to the house, knowing he watched her every more.