Authors: Sean McMurray

The Lonely Living (6 page)

When I got inside, Sam was sitting
on the couch with her feet curled up underneath her, watching the fire flicker
and pop.

“Are you warm enough?” I asked.

She nodded.

“Good.” I said as I sat down into
my chair.

There was quiet for a few moments
as Sam and I allowed ourselves to be hypnotized by the flickering flames of the
fire. Eventually Sam broke the silence.

“So, what do you do to keep busy
around here?”

“There’s lot to do actually.” I
answered. “It’s mostly work. It’s not very fun, but it’s something to do.
When I’m done with my chores I usually sit right here in my chair by the fire.
Boring huh?”

“Doesn’t sound too bad.” She said. “Back
at the school, I actually would do homework, just to pass the time.”

“Really?”

Sam leaned forward. “Yeah.
Algebra, Social Studies, Grammar. I even learned some Spanish.”

“I don’t care how bored I got,” I
offered jokingly, “homework would be last on my list of things to do.”

She laughed me off then said
solemnly, “It just felt normal.”

My stomach churned with a bit of
guilt, and after a moment of quiet I asked, “How long were you at the school?”

“Since the beginning.” She looked
deep into the fire. “I was there with my mother the night it happened. She
worked third shift and sometimes I would go with her to work and…” She trailed
off.

“What did your mom do?” I asked.

At that moment tears formed in
Sam’s eyes.

“I’m sorry.” I offered. “I didn’t
mean—”

She waved it off. “It’s ok.” She
paused and collected herself. “It was just me and my Mom pretty much my whole
life. She was a janitor at the high school ever since I could remember. When
I was younger I loved to come help her work, but as I got older that changed.”
She dropped her head and peered back into the fire. “I was embarrassed by the
fact that my mom was a janitor. I even told my friends that my Mom wasn’t home
at night because she had to work late at the office. Eventually I stopped
going with her all together. I was only there that night because it was her
birthday and she guilted me into it.”

The tears were running down her
face now. I wanted to reach out and touch her on the shoulder and tell her it
was alright, but I felt so helpless. Eventually she began to calm down.

I asked sorrowfully as I handed her
a paper towel, “She was the woman I found you with wasn’t she?”

She took the paper towel, wiped her
eyes and nodded. “She was sick for a while before they got in and when we were
trapped in that room, she refused to eat or drink anything so that I would have
enough.”

I leaned forward. “Enough for
what?”

“Enough to get me through until you
found me.”

I didn’t know how to respond to her
comment. She acted as if she knew I would come. After a brief silence I said,
“What do you think of the house?”

She smiled like she appreciated the
change in conversation. “It’s nice, my Mom would have loved a place like
this.” She paused. “I do have one question though. What’s the deal with all
the eagles?”

She was referring to the eagles
elegantly carved into the banister and the portrait hanging over the fireplace
that depicted one of the giant birds soaring high above a rugged mountain
range.

“I have a thing for Eagles.” I
answered.

She looked at me strangely.

“What?” I said defensively, “They’re
majestic creatures.”

She tried to keep a straight face. “Ok…”

I smiled coyly. “I’m just playing.
It’s because of the island.”

“The island?”

“The one were on. It’s named
Little Eagle’s Island.” I answered.

Sam looked at the portrait of the
eagle. “Why Little Eagle?”

“It’s a kind of cool story actually.”
I shifted in my seat. “My dad…well I heard it when I was a kid and we first
got this place.”

“Well?” She folded her arms. “You
gonna tell me the story?”

I glanced at the portrait then my
eyes returned to her. “I don’t know if it’s true or anything, so don’t hold me
to it.”

Sam nodded. “Okay.”

“Supposedly Little Eagle is the
name of an Indian boy. He was the son of the Chief and when he was young, he
and his father were on a hunting trip when a heavy snow began to fall. It was
dark and windy and the Chief decided it was too dangerous to attempt to make it
home, so he and Little Eagle made for a nearby cave for the night. When they
arrived they found the cave inhabited by a pack of wolves. Realizing the
imminent danger, the Chief told his son to run while he stayed behind to buy
him some time. Armed with a tomahawk and a knife he fought valiantly, killing all
the wolves but the alpha-male before finally succumbing to his wounds and
collapsing to the snowy ground. The alpha, angry with the fate of his pack,
sought revenge against the Chief. He pursued the Chief’s son with a relentless
fury. Little Eagle, hearing the howl of the angry wolf ran as fast as he could
through the mounting snow. However, his efforts were in vain and soon enough
the wolf had caught up to him. Little Eagle, realizing there was no escape,
pulled an arrow from his quiver and turned to face the great beast. The wolf,
hungry for the flesh of revenge, approached him purposefully, salivating at the
thought of what was about to ensue. Little Eagle, hands shaking, took aim with
his bow. Just as the wolf was about to pounce on him, he unleashed the arrow.
The arrow flew straight and true, but the wolf darted out of the way at the
last possible second and the arrow lodged into the ground behind him. The
brave Indian boy dropped his bow and pulled his hunting knife from his belt. The
wolf growled, its eyes keen on his prey and prepared to pounce yet again.
Little Eagle stared unblinking into the beast’s eyes and readied for its
attack. The wolf bent low on its haunches and just as it was about to leap for
him, a cracking sound echoed through the woods. Quite suddenly the ground
below the wolf gave way, for it was no ground at all. The wolf clawed
desperately against the broken ice, but all was in vain and Little Eagle
watched from the solid ground of an island as the wolf disappeared into the
cold black water below.” I paused and let it all sink in. “That was this very
island.”

There were a few seconds of silence
before Sam spoke.

“You made that up.” She said.

I shrugged my shoulders and
smirked.

She smiled. “Whether it’s true or
not, I liked it. Makes you think that something out there is watching out for
you.”

I shrugged my shoulders again and
said tepidly, “Maybe…”

She yawned and stretched are arms
above her head. “I think I’m gonna go to bed. Umm…where should I sleep?”

“Oh…” I leaned up in my chair and
thought for a second. “You can sleep in my old bedroom. It’s the second door
on the left upstairs.”

She leaned forward and touched me
on the arm. “Blake,” she offered amicably, “thanks for everything.”

I answered sincerely, “Your
welcome.”

Sam stood from the couch and went
to the stairs. Half way up she stopped. “Oh Blake, there is one more thing.”

“Yes.” I said.

She glanced down at her clothes. “As
much as I
love
the Ninja Turtles, is there any way we can get me some
clothes?”

I laughed, “I will work on that
tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” She turned and headed
back up the steps. “Good night.” She said as she disappeared upstairs.

I got up and tossed a couple large
logs onto the fire, then extinguished the remaining candles, save the one I
used to light my way up the steps to my bedroom. I blew out the candle and
threw myself onto my bed. Thinking of Sam, I fell asleep.

I got up with the first morning
light the next day. I made a quick breakfast for Sam and me, ate mine and then
got ready to go to town. Sam was still asleep, so I left her breakfast on a
t.v. tray next to the fire before departing. The trip to Red Lake was
uneventful and I returned with a large amount of woman’s clothing. Sam was
very appreciative when I gave them to her. If she had any reservations about
them, she didn’t show it.

I won’t lie. I liked having Sam
around, but I still felt that I couldn’t get to close to her. I couldn’t
escape the feeling that at any moment, it would all end and I would be alone
again. So, I kept my distance and kept up my normal routine as much as
possible. Still, in spite of my efforts I grew closer to her and her to me.
One afternoon when I was out by the shed splitting wood she approached me.

“You need help?” She asked.

“Thanks,” I answered, “but I got
it.”

“You sure?”

I took another hack at a large log.
“Really, don’t worry about it.”

Concern shown on Sam’s face as she
said, “You’ve done nothing but work since I got here.”

I stopped and leaned on the handle
of my axe. “I did nothing but work before you got here. I like to stay busy.”

“Why?”

An image of Abbey flashed in my
mind. “Because…I…I just do.”

She shrugged. “To each his own I
guess.” She started to walk away but stopped and turned around. “Even the
busiest worker bee needs to have fun every once in a while.”

I didn’t respond I just went back
to work. I brought the head of the axe down upon the log.

There’s no fun left in this
world.

Two hacks later the log was nearly
severed, but before I could bring the final blow I was hit in the back of the
head with a snowball. I whipped myself around to find Sam standing about
twelve yards away with a sly smile strewn across her lips.

“It wasn’t me.” She said
playfully.

I paused, then bent down and
scooped up a handful of snow from the ground. “If it wasn’t you, who was it
then?”

She brought her hand to her lips
and made a zipping motion.

I padded the snow into a ball in my
palms. “Oh, I see. You aren’t telling.” I took a step closer. “We’ll see
about that.” I unleashed the snowball, but Sam ducked and it sailed over her
head.

Sam glanced back at the snowball
and then at me. “You throw like a girl.”

I quickly made another snowball, as
she turned to run. I fired away and missed again.

“Whoa, that was a close one,” Sam
said laughing over her shoulder, “If only I was eight foot wide that might have
hit me.”

I bent down and scooped up some
more snow. Smiling, I gave chase.

Sam continued to mock me as she
ran. “You think someone who spent they’re whole day working would be in better
shape.” I shook my head and sped up. I soon caught up to her and she turned
around. “Alright, you caught me. I rescind my last statement.” She paused and
then laughed, “But not the previous two. You still throw like a girl.”

Laughing, I wound my arm. “Are you
gonna talk?”

“I told you it wasn’t me.” Answered
Sam. “You know why?”

“Why?”

She fell backwards onto the snow. “Because
I am an angel,” she spread her arms and legs and made a snow angel, “and we
always tell the truth.”

I smiled at her and she smiled back
then reached out her hand. “Help me up.”

I took her by the hand and helped
her to her feet. She looked proudly at her angel. “See, no hand prints.”

We stood side by side for a moment admiring
her work and then Sam said something that made me sad.

“It takes two to make the perfect
snow angel.”

Abbey, shortly before she died, had
said those same words after making a row of angels in the snow.

Sam noticed my sullenness and asked
cautiously, “Blake, are you alright?

“You asked me a few minutes ago why
I liked to stay busy.”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

I turned and looked into Sam’s
eyes. “Because I am haunted by every quiet moment.”

With those words, I dropped the
snowball from my hand and turned back to my work. Sam watched me for a few
moments and then went inside.

We barely said a word to each other
for the next two days. She kept her distance and I kept mine. She wasn’t mad
at me and I wasn’t mad at her, but there was a bridge between us that neither
of us was certain we wanted to cross. Still, while I was working I would catch
her out of the corner of my eye watching me from a kitchen window and for my
part, I found myself making up excuses to go in the house to see her. Then one
evening, while I was writing in my journal, Sam came downstairs carrying an old
box.

“Look what I found.” She said
excitedly. “It’s an old board game.”

She pulled it out of the box and I
recognized it immediately. It was
Life
or the game of
Life
.

“We should play it.” Sam
suggested.

I closed my journal and shrugged. “Why
not?”

We quickly set up the game and
began to play. Sam made it to the career tile first and chose a career.

“Doctor.” She said
enthusiastically. “Just like I always wanted.”

“Is that really what you wanted to
be when you grew up?” I asked.

“Dr. Samantha at your service.” She
laughed, “If only it were true.”

I spun the dial and landed a six,
just enough to reach the career tile.

She held out three cards. “Your
turn to pick.”

I chose one.

“Well?” Asked Sam.

I said glumly, “I’m a plumber.”

Sam laughed and said smugly, “Well
you would have had more career options if you would have went to college.”

I glared at her.

“Oh, don’t be upset Blake. We
need plumbers too.”

“Yeah,” I said sarcastically, “call
me Mario.”

After a moment of laughter she
became sincere. “If you didn’t want to be a plumber, what did you want to
be?”

I rubbed my head. “Honestly, I
never really thought about it.”

“Hmm. You spend a lot of time with
that journal of yours. Did you ever think about becoming a writer?”

I glanced at my journal, which was
sitting on an end table next to me. “No, not really.”

Sam leaned forward. “Blake, I need
to be honest with you and please don’t be mad. But I’ll understand if you
are.” She paused. “I’ve read through your journal and it’s quite good.”

“You read through my journal?” I
responded. “That’s private.”

“I know. I know. It’s just…you
won’t let me get close and sometimes I get the feeling like you don’t want me
here, like I’ve intruded on your own little world.”

I grabbed the journal off the
table. “You hadn’t until you read this.”

“I’m sorry Blake.” She pleaded. “I
really am. I just like being here with you.”

“Well…” My anger began to subside. “I
like you being here because…because I like you.”

Her face reddened. “You like me?”

I felt a sudden swell of something
between joy and fear. “Yes…very much but…”

“But what?”

“You don’t want to be with me. A
girl like you would never have even given me a second thought before all of
this happened and…I’m dangerous.”

“What do you mean dangerous?”

I held up the journal like I was
lawyer presenting evidence to a one person jury. “You read my journal, you
should know why.”

Sam spoke softly, “This is about
your sister isn’t it?”

Tears began to well in my eyes and
it took a moment for me to speak. “I was supposed to take care of her and I
let her die.”

“I don’t believe that’s true.”

I said shamefully, “If you knew
what happened, you would think different of me.”

“You never wrote about what
happened to her.”

“And I never will.” I paused, “But,
I will tell you and then you can decide if you want to stay with me or not.”

She nodded and I stared deep into
the fire. The embers crackled and popped.

“I came here with my sister, just
as I was instructed by my father. We scratched a living off what little was
already here, while we waited for him to show. Abbey was an insulin dependent
diabetic and very quickly we ran out of insulin. The days grew shorter and the
nights colder and soon we were out of food, save the few fish I managed to
catch. We both grew hungry and weak and I should have left the island then in
search of supplies, but I kept telling Abbey that my father would show up to
take care of us. But he didn’t and soon, Abbey’s…” I paused and swallowed hard.
“Abbey’s health worsened and she grew weaker and weaker until one morning she
wouldn’t wake up. It was then that I decided to go for supplies. I set out
for Red Lake in the car I drove to get here, but I found no pharmacy, all I
found was death and destruction. And then I went to Burbank. I knew exactly
where to find some, so I made my way there. Before I could reach Miller’s
Pharmacy I was attacked by a horde of those things. I hit the gas and drove
right though them until I plowed through the back wall of the pharmacy. I
stumbled out of the car and searched the pharmacy until I found some insulin.
By then, the horde had reached me and I barely made it to the car alive. I hit
the gas and slammed through the front glass doors and out onto the street
leaving the horde behind me. I drove as fast as I could, but I ran out of gas
about three quarters of the way here. I was forced to make the rest of the
trip on foot in the dark. The whole time I wasn’t worried about my safety, but
Abbey’s, and I prayed and prayed to God that I would find her alive. By the
time I reached the island it was dawn.” I stopped myself, not wanting to
finish the rest of the story. I took a deep breath and forced the words out. “I
rushed inside the cabin and discovered that I was too late…Abbey was dead.”