Scene 1

The apartment complex was one of the more defensible places left to hole up. Chance was lucky. Between the highway and the wooded ridge behind the buildings, you’d really have to mean it to come here. Still, he hadn’t been able to sleep more than a few hours at a time for days. The shots and explosions rang through the day, and the fires lit up the sky at night. Some asshole torched his Corolla the first night after the inauguration while he was working at the gas station. He had to walk 395 to get home. He hadn’t left since. But, he was outa’ food and would have to risk it soon. He clutched his 45 he’d kept under the counter at the station for reassurance and took another toke. No one cared if he smoked inside any more. He’d used his first bullet on the smoke detector. His neighbors had shot some squirrels for gumbo. 

There were a few houses on top of the ridge. He had seen their lights through the bare branches. Those were rich people. They had everything. He finally had his own place and a car. He thought he was on his way. Now? Heh. Cry? Laugh?

His best bud took off with his girl to go to the “Storming the Capitol Party.” They never came back. He didn’t care any more. None of it mattered. Nothing was going to go right any more. Well, hunger mattered. It was time to go hunting, and the easiest meat was probably in one of those refrigerators up the hill. He held in the last of the weed smoke until his ears popped and eyes fuzzed over. It was time to go. 

The downstairs unit was still empty. All of them would be empty soon once the power got shut off. It was flickering all the time now and the apartments management people had disappeared once the ICE trucks showed up. It was only a matter of time.

He decided to climb the steep hill through the woods instead of walking around and up the hill on the road. Maybe he’d see a squirrel. 20 feet up he climbed a rock to find himself staring at a six-point buck! He fumbled to get his pistol out and dropped it. The stag looked deep in his eyes with those big brown eyes, huffed and loped away easily. He was gone in a glance. Chance fumbled in the leaves until he found the gun, a little wet and muddy now. Hands shaking, he pocketed the thing and took a deep breath. Okay, he had to think. Should he go after it? He was big! How’d he store all that meat if he killed it? He started moving again, deciding he might be better off with a squirrel or two. 

Another two minutes of walking and he came to a row of Leland Cypresses hugging the road. He cut  in between a couple and came through shaking off cobwebs. Maybe he should have walked up the road. The first house looked deserted without any cars in the driveway. He walked up to check it out. He looked in through the patio windows in the back. They had packed up in a hurry and left, leaving all the pieces of their life scattered on the luxury vinyl tiles. The refrigerator door stood open, the light bulb not knowing how to quit ‘til it died. Any food they might have had in there was Salmonella bait. But, there could still be dry or canned food. He would need to find a way in. He turned to go into the yard to find a stone or something that could break the glass. He heard the dog “hmmph” before he saw him and promptly, tripped over him. As he rolled to sit up on his butt, he realized he was looking at the slobbering face of a giant brown mastiff! Why was it so big? It licked him in a wet slurp. Oh, ick, maaan! And then, the dog heard someone calling and took off like a flash leaving Chance in a sticky heap. Bruno? Is that what he heard? There was someone around. He wiped the worst of the slobber on a survivor patch of crusty snow under a pine. It seemed like a good place to relieve himself. Squatting on a dry patch, he warmed his hands in his pits. Yes, there was someone around. The way he felt, they may not be around for much longer. He touched the outline of the gun in his pocket for reassurance for the hundredth time and stood up. It wasn’t hard to figure out where Bruno was headed. 

Scene 2

Chance crashed through the hedge between properties, determined to be warm, fed, and no longer miserable; and, he didn’t care what he had to do to have that. Another step and he heard a gentle, “Hush… Hush, now. Come here slowly. Quiet now, child.” There was an old woman sitting on the ground in the leaves. Bruno was lying down beside her without a care. “Come on, get low to the ground. Right here by me. That’s right. Now, look yonder. You see her about to go into the shelter? She’s about to have her kittens, and we need her to settle into that shelter where I can keep her safe for the night.” An orange cat was smelling the plastic flaps guarding the entrance to a wooden box on stilts across the lawn in the direction she pointed. Deer? Spiders? Dogs? Cats? What was this? Some kind of wild kingdom animal safari? Chance shifted to reach for his pocket. He thought, “Enou…” “Grrrr…” hummed Bruno. Like a gentle reminder of Chance’s “not-hungry” self; the  one his mama raised. The woman turned and looked at him for the first time. She had a couple of stars between her brows. They were laser sharp and saw straight inside. Then she smiled and the world stopped hurting. She said, “Lacy will need a little time to give birth and lick the babies clean. In the meantime, would you like something to eat? It’s a good time for tea if you’d join me?” Eat? Tea? He hadn’t had tea since that time his mama made him go to Ms. Edna’s Christmas party. Food? Food good. He found his voice, and said, “Yes, thank you Ma’am.” “Alright then. Let’s go in through the back so she can have some peace, if there’s any to be had these days.”

Chance followed his stooped and frail savior/victim as they circled the house. Behind the low fence, there was a vegetable garden. It was neat and messy at the same time. Three raised beds were flanked with six smaller, higher beds. There were still green things in there. He thought some were lettuces and cabbages. But, he didn’t know anything about vegetables except the kind at the supermarket, except there was no more food at the supermarket. In some places, the supermarket wasn’t there any more. The sun was getting low and the temperature was dropping, not that it had ever risen much. The solar lights strung up on the veggie bed trellises were starting to come on. His stomach growled. His host giggled quietly, walking in front of him. Despite himself, he thought it was nice here. And, oh, Lord, what was that heavenly smell?! They entered through a small screened porch guarded by two large cats. They looked like bookends, gray with matching black stripes and wicked green eyes. They filed in as the woman opened the glass doors to an all-glass kitchen atrium. It was something out of a magazine, except there were dog dishes and cat dishes on the floor and plants and books on every surface. Where the house had walls, it was covered in art from old science fiction and fantasy shows, everything from Star Trek and Star Wars to some esoteric stuff he didn’t recognize. The woman reached up as if to say, let me take your coat, and he did take it off. But, he didn’t give it to her since he was embarrassed about the obvious weight of the gun. He hung it on the back of a chair at the large walnut table. She stayed where she was and offered her hand. She said, “I’m Maggie.” Chance shook it and introduced himself, “Chance Withers.” She had warm, coarse hands. She giggled, “Well, that’s appropriate.”

Maggie turned and started to pull a couple of plates off a wood shelf. Her electric kettle was boiling and she poured the water carefully over some loose tea leaves in the silver cage of her glass tea pot. Silverware was deposited nicely on some cotton kitchen napkins. She revealed the source of the orgasmic scent of cinnamon and vanilla. It was a loaf of cranberry, walnut bread. It came out of the oven like salvation. While it cooled, she poured a variety of kibbles in five different bowls and laid them on a mat on the floor where Bruno, two puppies and the two cats were lined up waiting. Chance asked to wash up in the sink and she was happy to let him. Mmmm, hot water. It took everything not to crawl into the sink. Maggie’s refrigerator yielded ice cold butter, a jam jar and a plate of cold cuts and cheese. She was getting a jar of homemade pickled peppers when he realized she was sharing her supper and leaped to help her carry the load to the table.

Then Maggie poured tea and asked him to sit and start. He didn’t remember much after that for a bit. Just chewing and swallowing and aromatic hot tea burning his tongue. Bruno and the puppies, Hercules and Xena, were let out after their dinner and started on a perimeter check. The cats, Peeks and Papalbull, were purr dancing around Maggie’s feet hoping for hand outs. The two humans didn’t speak, but it was strangely comfortable; each letting the other be, the cats providing purrcussion. He was full and ashamed and safe and sad and content and confused. Everything was catching up to him.

He pointed at his cleaned plate, the table and everything, and with the beginnings of stingy tears in his eyes, choked out, “Why?” Maggie lost the youthful and careless look in her eyes for a moment as she replied softly, “So you wan’t have to hate yourself for the rest of your life because you became a murderer today.”

And then, Chance cried. And, Maggie let him.

Scene 3

Later, he didn’t let her do the dishes.

When he finished, she was holding out towels and some fresh clothes. She told him that she hoped they’d fit and the bathroom was upstairs on the left. It was the best shower he’d ever taken. He scrubbed like he was gonna’ wash out Trump, America, his girlfriend, his best friend and even himself. He cried some more too and let the hot water carry it all away. The clothes were a close enough fit and there was a warm sweater to boot. Clean socks were a real luxury. He needed a shave and a haircut. What a mess he’d become. There were combs and creams and a drawer full of mens grooming gear. He used everything. Feeling a few pounds lighter, he descended the stairs. The full critter family was in the living room where a fire in the fireplace made the light dance, and sparks and spits provided orchestration. Bruno had his lap in Maggie’s lap on a giant red velvet sofa in front of the TV. Fifth element was playing. “Cornee-lee-oos.” Heh. On the coffee table there was a cup of hot cocoa with little marshmallows in it. Maggie was sipping hers. She produced a vape pen, hit the button a few times and pulled a long draw and held it in. She handed him the pen. Maggie? You are full of surprises, he thought. He took a few draws of his own and cleaned the pen and put it down on the coffee table. He exhaled and world fuzzed a bit, feeling less “impending doom-like.” He took a sip of the cocoa. Oh, yass… “What do we do now?” he asked. She took another hit and after a while said, “I guess I’ve now adopted you like all the rest who are here. You’re now ‘pack.’ We are each others’ responsibility. There’s a room you can sleep in upstairs. There’s plenty of wood and game here and we can grow food too; but, that means plenty of work. We work together, we live together. What say you?” Bruno lifted his head and looked at him quizzically. There had never been a clearer answer in his life. He simply said, “Yes.”

They got high, drank hot cocoa and watched the movie. She knew all the lines and could even sing along with the Diva. Chance asked about the man in Maggie’s life. She told him her husband David had gone to Atlanta for the holidays to visit his son. Maggie stayed to take care of the cats and puppies. David had not come back. When the internet still worked she had had news that he was stuck there with no flights, gas shortages and bridges out on almost all main arteries running north and south. He was trying to work his way home. She advised him to stay and remain safe. He had insisted on trying to get home. She didn’t know where he was. It had been a month since she’d heard from him. So, she waited. The puppies play wrestled on the old Persian rug.

He told her about growing up in Cookeville, Tennessee, his mom passing away, moving here and his absent girlfriend Helen. He told her about his dream to go to college to study engineering so he could design cars. He’d never spoken of that out loud before. The company he kept would not have been impressed. Maggie was; and, so was Papalbull who purred on his lap as he had his chin scratched. 

Maggie banked the dying fire and shut things down for the night. Her bedroom was downstairs on the main level. She clasped his hands in hers, and said, “Welcome. Sleep well.” The puppies gleefully bounded down the hall ahead of her. His bedroom was upstairs just down the hall from the bathroom he’d used earlier. He used a new toothbrush left for him. In the bedroom, there was a queen bed with clean crisp sheets and a feather comforter and clean PJs. The room was full of mannequins and costumes. But, the bed spoke too loudly to see the other things in the room. He barely changed and crawled in before sleep took him. 

He woke in the middle of the night to Papalbull kneading his thigh through the comforter. He was purring up a storm. Chance petted him absently, curled up around him and went back to sleep. He didn’t hear any explosions that night.