Surrender the Sun: A Post Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller (4 page)

The next morning, Maeve woke from the living room couch. At first, she didn’t know where exactly she was and then remembered the glass—
or was it two?—
of wine she’d had the night before. Though she enjoyed the evening at the time, she was regretting it now. Her temple throbbed a little, and she contemplated taking a painkiller but knew if she didn’t eat something first she’d regret that, too.

The pain in her head and the cold had awakened her. The fire had died down, and she was freezing with only one blanket to keep her warm. Wrapping the blanket around herself, she rose from the couch and knelt once again at the fireplace. She held her hand above the coals and felt no residual heat whatsoever; only a cold draft blew over the ashes. So she made the fire all over again and soon she heard Ben descending the stairs.

“It’s freezing in here,” he said, stating the obvious. Ben jumped up and down while looking out of the frosted window where it was even colder, the sky slung low with a gray blanket. “It snowed! A lot! Can I go sledding after school?”

His little voice was too loud for her head so early on a slightly hungover morning. “No. I mean, there’s no school today.” She held her temple and closed her eyes at the thrumming.

“All right! Snow day!” Ben gladly yelled.

“Ugh, keep it down, buddy,” she said, since the rise in volume made it feel like her brain would shatter all over the living room, and she didn’t want that to happen in front of Ben; he’d been through enough. Then suddenly she remembered the cat last night and the stacked wood she discovered.
Was it a dream?

She got up and went over to the dining room window where Ben stood and peered out toward the shed, and there was the wood. The pale yellow of freshly chopped wood peeked out from the layer of snow at her.

They’d have only enough firewood for the next few days if the weather kept up this cold. Otherwise, she’d still need to call someone today to bring her more.

“I’m starving, Mom. What’s for breakfast?” Ben asked and climbed up on his stool at the kitchen counter.

“Ya know, if you let me shower and have a cup of coffee first, I’ll make you pancakes and bacon.”

“Bacon! Sure.”

“Um…OK, you can watch TV while I get going,” she said, with the blanket still wrapped around herself. She fixed up a cup of strong coffee, taking the steaming cup with her as she shuffled into her bedroom.

At her dresser, Maeve caught herself glancing at Roger’s image in the photograph on her nightstand like she’d done every waking morning since his death.
Why must I torture myself missing him every day?
she asked herself, then felt ashamed for
trying
to move on. There was no winning in a life of mourning someone you loved and lost. No amount of growth is celebrated or achieved. There’s guilt even in the minuscule milestones of healing over a loved one’s death—an ever-aching guilt that only minutely alleviates over a length of time out of sheer boredom of the sorrow one feels.

She shook her head at her own folly. If she could at least stop glancing at the photo every day, she’d mark that as finally moving on. Maybe someday she could place the photo somewhere else? Perhaps on the top of the dresser, and then slowly move the reminder of Roger into the living room—maybe her room could become her own haven once again instead of the one she still shared with Roger even now.

Taking a deep breath, Maeve selected the undergarments she’d wear that day, going for the cotton ones because they were warmer than the nylon. And instead of choosing an outfit from her closet, she grabbed a white ribbed cotton tank top and a long-sleeved cotton T-shirt paired with flannel-lined black cotton leggings and the warmest wool socks she could find. This was a day for comfort, and she was going to make sure she was at least cozy, especially if she had to conserve wood.

Before she could start her shower, though, Ben came tearing into her room shouting, “Mommy, Mom!”

“What, Ben? Please don’t yell. I have a headache.” She bent down to his level, taking her blanket with her.

“On the TV there’s a
weather alert
,” he said carefully.

She stood. “OK, let’s see it.”

He took her hand and skipped into the living room, trying to drag her with him. “The cold weather is making you energetic, I see,” she said gruffly, but she had to smile at his enthusiasm. Once she was in front of the TV over the fireplace, Maeve saw the banner reading Weather Alert in bright letters that couldn’t be missed.

“Expect subzero temperatures tonight and into the coming week,”
Bob Madeira said looking even more graver than the night before
. “We’re still technically in autumn, folks, but this isn’t something to ignore. All area schools are closed, as well as work canceled for nonessential staff. Please stay home, people. Use what you have in the pantry for the coming days. If you lose power, and many of you will, use your backup supplies and check on your neighbors. If needed, go to a shelter to stay warm. If in doubt, don’t hesitate.”

Maeve dropped her blanket suddenly and went into the kitchen to check the pantry and fridge. At least a week had passed without her visiting the grocery store. She usually bought food one week at a time, and she knew she was down to the last few days of her weekly menu.

First she scanned the pantry shelves, noting a few jars of spaghetti sauce and pasta, a box of taco shells, a few cans of soup, and a bag each of rice, flour, and sugar. She rifled further and found a bag of hidden gummy bears among the spices, and she tossed them on the counter. Then she checked the fridge, she pulled out the half carton of milk, which on further inspection smelled like something other than milk, and she wasn’t going to take a swig to check. There were a few long-gone leftovers from past meals just taking up space; they were past their prime and needed to be thrown out. Then there were condiments galore, and after she had looked further past the dried-up parsley, several eggs, and few rubbery carrots, there wasn’t much else edible in the fridge. Years ago, Roger had warned her to stock food for emergencies since they lived far from a grocery store, but she was a business owner and had little time for anything beyond her weekly grocery list, which she used an app for on her iPad to save time and money.

“We’ll have to run to the grocery store after I get out of the shower.”

Ben looked up at her with concerned eyes. “But the Bob Madeira guy said to stay home,” he said, pointing at the TV.

“Yes, he did, but he meant that you should have your supplies
first
and then
stay home
.”

“Oh, it sounded like he said not to go
anywhere
.”

“Well, that’s true, but we need to get a few things if we’re going to be stuck here for more than three days.”

Her son seemed to accept this and then asked, “Can I have some of those gummy bears?”

Maeve smiled at her son, his concern for their safety forgotten already. She patted his head and said, “Sure, why don’t you get ready, too? We’ll pick up breakfast in town instead of making pancakes and get our supplies early before everyone else thinks of the same thing. Then we’ll come home, and I still need to call for a wood delivery,” she reminded herself.

Grabbing her phone, she quickly checked Craigslist for the firewood listings she’d seen there many times in the past. When she found a listing, she called but only received a recorded message saying they were no longer delivering wood for the time being, and they had no date given for resupply or a waiting list to enter.

“Great,” she said and dropped her phone on the side table and again headed for the sanctuary of her shower.

Once she stepped out of her room dressed and readied for the day, her son Ben sat on the couch waiting for her. Cuddled up under the blanket she dropped earlier but still shivering, he chewed on another gummy bear.

“Still cold in here isn’t it?”

He nodded.

About to toss another log on the fire, Maeve remembered the low supply. Since they were leaving the house for a bit, she opted to save the wood until she was sure to secure more.

“OK, let’s go, buddy. Get your snow boots and coat on,” she said as she pulled on her gloves and donned her own hunter-green quilted jacket that contrasted with her fiery red hair. She stepped into her snow boots by the door and then knelt down to zip Ben’s coat and make him pull his knit hat down over his ears. After his mittens were on as well, Maeve grabbed her purse, phone, and keys, and they headed out to the SUV in the driveway.

After they had broken their way through the eight inches of snow, she buckled Ben into the backseat and noticed how frigid the air was. His teeth already chattered with the cold. She smiled at him. Strands of her red hair flew in front of her face with a frigid gust of wind. Ben pointed behind her at something he was watching.

She turned to him as he said, “The trees…they’re moving a lot.”

She watched as the tops of the tall pines behind her house swayed in the harsh, cold wind. Another gust blew past her, stinging her skin. She quickly closed the backseat door to protect Ben and then seated herself in the driver’s seat.

“The trees
are
moving a lot. I hope this winter storm doesn’t make them come down. That’s the last thing we need, unless of course it came down magically prechopped and seasoned like the load that appeared last night,” she said, imagining her lack of firewood would suddenly appear from her own backyard.

“Where did that wood come from, Mom?”

Maeve put on her seatbelt and then inserted the key into the ignition. “I’m not totally sure,” she said. Then she realized the engine didn’t turn over. “What now?” she said and tried the key again. Nothing happened.

“What’s wrong, Mom?”

“The engine’s not turning over,” she said, confused. She looked around, making sure everything was as it should be, and tried once more, and again nothing happened. “I don’t get it. The battery isn’t dead. All of the dash lights work. It’s just…it’s just not starting. That’s just great!” she said and put her hands over her mouth to keep herself calm.
Why is this happening?

“Did the engine freeze?” Ben asked through chattering teeth, trying to come up with a solution.

She smiled. “I don’t know, son, but it doesn’t look like we’re going anywhere this morning. We’ll have to make do with what supplies we have.” She stared out of the car window at the gray sky and snow as the flakes began to blow along with the gusts, and Maeve knew she needed to get Ben inside.
This is only going to get worse.

“Ben, go ahead and quickly undo your seatbelt and climb up here. We’ll go through my door and run inside quickly.”

“OK, Mom,” he said, always up for the unconventional.

She quickly opened the door once Ben climbed into the front seat and then swiftly pulled him out, and they ran inside the house with the bitter wind chasing them along the way.

***

Once inside, Maeve tossed another log onto the fire first thing, poking it into place with her iron poker. As the hot embers danced in the warm, rising air disappearing up the chimney, she thought about what things she should take care of if the storm were to take the power out as the weatherman had warned earlier.

“Ben, you sleep with me for the next few nights so we don’t have to heat your room. Go ahead and pick a few toys out of there, grab your pillow and blanket, and put them in my room.”

“Why, Mom?” he asked, suddenly concerned.

She didn’t like the look of worry on his little face and smiled. “We just need to conserve our firewood until the storm passes, so we’ll close all the unnecessary doors like the hall bathroom and your room as well as the laundry room and only use the bathroom in my room and this main room. That makes sense, right?”

He nodded.

She knew letting him contribute to making some of the decisions made him feel more secure, and she’d have to keep that in mind. “I’m going to plug in all of my electronics like my computer and phone and iPad to charge their batteries. Do you have anything you want to charge in case we lose power?”

“Yeah,” he said and ran off to his room.

She assumed he was gathering all of his handheld games in a hurry and various charging units to plug them in as she was doing.

Once that was done, and after she’d closed all the unnecessary doors in the house, she called her car service and explained to them that her battery must be defective or something. Unfortunately, they had no service for her area due to the storm at the time and advised her to call them back in a few days after the storm passed.

Frustrated with the call, she turned her attention to the pantry and kitchen again, feeling foolish for not preparing ahead to stay home longer than a few days with foul weather.

She tossed everything that wasn’t edible and took stock of her supplies more thoroughly than before. If they ate spaghetti twice and had soup for lunch, she still had rice and baking supplies to use at her whim. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead and wondered what culinary masterpiece she could create with rice and a few condiments.
At least I can make bread
, she thought and again thanked her deceased mother for having the forethought to teach her a few simple recipes that she always held dear. For now, she’d promised to make pancakes for Ben, and she used one of the two eggs left in the fridge to whip the dough up quickly. A roaring of rushing wind shook the house as she was about to pour the batter into the hot skillet. Ben looked at her from the living room sofa.