XII: A Tribune Serial

Written and illustrated by Caty Childress

Installment IV

“Honey, would you mind helping bring the groceries in?”

Marie huffed as she stood from her spot on the couch, leaving behind an indent in the leather from where she had been reading. Out the front door she went, following her father’s stride, taking large steps to keep up. The trunk of his red car was popped and propped – the door had started to fall if not held up by the snow brush.

“Good afternoon,” her father called across the flower garden to their neighbor, waving one hand as he began pulling bags to place in her arms with the other, “How has your day been?”

“Well, can’t complain much, son; just been hangin’ out ‘round the house. Thought I oughtta come out ‘n say ‘Hi’ when I saw ya pull up. ‘S that Marie I see there?”

“Yes, it is. Good afternoon, Mr. Hansen,” she smiled his way, arms too full to wave.

“Oh, for the last time, kiddo, you can just call me Steve.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Hansen.” He chuckled to himself as she toted the groceries through the front door.

Marie dropped her load onto the kitchen table and began to unpack the goods. She took out a bag of carrots as her dad came in, “Thought we might make dinner before your mom gets home, to surprise her. Would you help me out with that?”

She nodded with vigor, then looked down. The carrots had turned to ash in her hands. Marie’s head shot back up to her father. Gone. In his place, a faceless mannequin stood, stock still. It was just like the ones she had seen in store windows when she went back to school shopping with her mom.

“Dad? Daddy! Where are you?”

—

“Dad!”

Marie gasped and sat up from Steven’s lap, frantically feeling at the cold ground she had slept on. The fire had gone out, and Steven was leaned back onto his satchel, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“What’s going on?” an unfamiliar voice asked, coming from outside of Marie’s line of sight, “Is everything okay?”

“I… I can’t–” she panted, her wits coming back to her, “Sorry, I umm, I din;t know what that was about. Everything’s fine.” She shrunk back in on herself.

“Didja have a bad dream, kid?” Steven had sat up and began rubbing her shoulders.

“Yeah, I did… kind of…” 

“That can be really difficult. Sometimes, the worst dreams are the ones that aren’t nightmares. I still dream about my wedding day. All dressed up to marry the woman of my dreams,”

“Literally,” Steven cut in.

“And then, as she turns to come down the aisle, I wake up, and the only thing I’ve got left from that day is this here ring around my neck,” Davey, who Marie could now identify, gestured at the ring on a chain around his neck.

“Oh… I’m sorry. That must be hard.”

“Don’t be. It’s not fun, and it definitely isn’t easy, but at least I can keep her close to my heart.” He exchanged a knowing look with Steven. The older man’s advice from the night before had resonated a bit in Davey’s mind. Light was beginning to creep into the room through shattered windows.

“Hey, son, since we’re all already up now, wanna help Marie ‘n me pack our stuff up? Looks like day’s jus’ around the corner.”

The trio stretched themselves out and got to work gathering what few belongings they could carry to wherever the next stop would be. Busy as a small ant colony for a brief time, they made quick work. By the time the sun was fully glowing inside, reflecting off any metal items that had been abandoned, they had cleared every trace of their short stay from the office.

“Got any idea where you’re headin’ next, son?”

“Not a clue. I’ve just been doing my best to go where the wind takes me and hope that it keeps me alive long enough to see another day.”

“We’re sittin’ in a similar boat, aren’t we, kiddo?” He jabbed at Marie’s side with his elbow. She nodded before tugging him to her level to whisper into his ear, “Mhm, that’s a good point… I like what you’re layin’ down, kid,” Steven stood back up to his full height, “Say, son, how would you feel about joinin’ us?”

This was just what Davey had been afraid would happen. How could he avoid sentiments with a man who dug away at his story, genuinely searching for a sort of connection? I think you should. And there she was again, her voice ringing through his head and heart.

“Don’t feel any kinda pressure either way. We won’t be hurt if you gotta stick to yourself. We’ve all just trying to stay alive in a world that wants us deadder than roadkill that’s sat out in the sun.”

He’s a good man. You’ve no reason to say no. She could be like the daughter we never got to have.

“Well, gee, alright. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to team up.”

“You certain?”

“Yeah, why not? Makes the fight more worth it if there are people leaning on you.” I’m proud. You made the right choice. Don’t be afraid to love them. Don’t be afraid to let them love you.

“In that case, son, welcome to the family.” Steven stuck his hand out to Davey, but pulled him into a hug when given a hand in turn. He patted the younger man on the back.

“We’d best get a move on. The sun’s up, ‘n I wouldn’t wanna be caught with our guard down.”

“Yeah… let’s go.”

—

And off they went, a soldier, a runner, and a young girl. Their twelve hours of respite had offered a peaceful intermission, but now, it was time to dive back into the fight. It was time to survive — if not for themselves, then for each other.

___

Edited by Mara Bech