Olympia, Washington, Republic of Cascadia
Haley rubbed her thumb repeatedly across the smooth surface of the compass. Touching it soothed her. She needed it after having just spent almost an hour talking about her parents and life in San Diego after the lights went out. The compass brought her such comfort and gave her a connection to her now-distant family.
She knew John was not a fool and had picked up on her not answering his direct question about Hunter earlier. She was hesitating to go back into the living room; she didn’t want to face the question, she didn’t want to have to relive that time on the road. Even though she’d told him she wanted to talk about it, she now regretted her decision. The road to Idaho had been tough and had become one of those moments her father told her occurs in a life where your course changes.
Deciding she had stalled long enough, she put the compass back in the box on the shelf and walked into the hallway. She could hear John and the camera crew laughing. Their laughter echoed off of the bare wood floors and the walls of the sparsely furnished home. She thought that these men knew nothing of true hardship. To her, their laughter displayed an innocence and ignorance of years before. She didn’t blame them; it wasn’t their fault when they were born. However, she did hold a grudge in some ways against those many who now enjoyed the fruits of her and her family’s labor but disregarded the cost.
The Great Civil War was not unlike many civil wars in history. It was brutal and hard. It did have one distinction that separated it from those before it: The rules that governed war were gone. The divisions that had been fostered over the most recent generations in America became more pronounced and deadly. Once the last bits of fabric that had held the country together vanished in that instant fifty-two years ago, it took only days for Americans to rip and tear at other Americans.
Haley was only five years old when it happened; she never got to enjoy the typical twentieth-century invention of a child’s life. Gone were the birthday parties with abundant cakes and ice cream. Gone were the Christmases with dozens of beautifully wrapped toys. Gone was the innocence. She was forced to grow up quickly and act like an adult. Even though her father did all he could to protect her from the horrors while they were living at Rancho Valentino, he could not shield her from the depravity of life once they made their way to Idaho.
She walked into the living room and just stood there looking at the men. None of them noticed her; they were absorbed in the typical conversations that young single men have.
After clearing her throat loudly, she said, “I’m ready if you are.”
“Great!” John said, jumping up. He was surprised to see her. He felt a bit foolish, as he hadn’t known how long she had been there and the topic the men had been enjoying was not entirely appropriate.
Haley walked back to her chair and sat down. She smoothed out the creases in her skirt and sat pensively waiting.
John shuffled around and quickly grabbed the pad he had been taking notes on. Taking the seat across from her, he said, “Sorry, one second.”
“Take your time,” Haley responded.
“I’d like to start with the trip to Idaho. From the sounds of it, a lot happened on the way there, and I think that’s a good starting point.”
“Very well,” Haley answered. She clasped her hands tightly to keep them from nervously fiddling with her skirt or sleeve.
“There is one item I’d like to ask before, though.”
“Go ahead.”
“Before today I never knew you had a brother. I apologize if I didn’t do my research, but like your father and mother, you have been very reserved in sharing details of your past life,” John stated, twirling his pen.
“The thing is, my brother is all around us. How many places in Olympia are named Hunter?” Haley asked.
After pausing to think, John blurted out, “You’re right; I never thought anything about it before. So what happened to him, your brother?”
“My brother was not unlike my father in his passion to protect his family. He took it quite seriously.” Haley stopped talking and looked down. The pitch of her voice changed. She unclasped her hands and again started to pat down the creases in her skirt.
John, noticing her discomfort, chose to move on to something else. “Haley, if you want, let’s talk about the trip to Idaho.”
“He was a good boy,” Haley said just above a whisper. She was still looking down, fidgeting with her clothes.
“What’s that?” John asked, leaning in toward Haley.
“Nothing, sorry, nothing,” she said loudly, looking up.
“Okay, so let’s begin with the trip to Idaho.”
“Sure, let’s do that. So as to not bore you, let’s start on our third day into the drive. That day revisits me in my thoughts often. Let’s begin there.”