Yield (93 page)

Tyler turns the television back on, changing the channel from news to cartoons. The 8-year-old can feel when another censored adult moment is on the way. He sits back on the couch, grinning at Batman
’
s impossible jump across Gotham
’
s rooftops.

“
It
’
s been almost a week, Mom,
”
Haley whispers. She adjusts the boiling pot of water on the stove. Her eyes sting with tears.
“
And we haven
’
t heard anything. I mean
…
”

“
He
’
s coming, baby,
”
Kat says. She
’
s not sure who needs reassurance more.
“
Your dad is too damn stubborn not to.
”

Haley manages a smile. She cracks the noodles into the boiling liquid. They quickly soften, their strength fading under the water
’
s assault.

The teenager looks back at her mom, eyes narrowing.
“
What aren
’
t you telling me?
”

Katherine turns sharply. She looks behind her to make sure Tyler is still watching the TV.
“
They aren
’
t releasing any insulin at the hospitals. Everything
’
s been redirected.
”

“
What? They can
’
t do that,
”
Haley says.

“
They already have, Haley. I
’
ve been to every hospital and pharmacy from here to Salem. There
’
s nothing left.
”
Katherine looks back at her son laughing innocently on the couch.
“
I don
’
t know what else to do.
”

The rain begins to fall harder outside the kitchen window. Dark storm clouds flash violently overhead.

Katherine storms through the front door and throws her keys onto the side table. The jingling crash of metal bounces back from the walls in the entryway. The keys ricochet off the scuffed pine, tumbling to the floor. Outside, the roar of military vehicles screams down the deserted street.

“
What
’
s wrong?
”
Haley asks. The teen jumps up from the love seat.

“
What isn
’
t?
”
Kat blurts.
S
he strides past her daughter and into the comfort of her kitchen. Katherine
’
s hands latch onto the range
’
s stainless steel handle.

Usually, the smell of fresh oregano and thyme from her herb garden makes her feel better. The sizzling sound of prosciutto on Sunday mornings
,
the sharp knocks of her knife against the cutting board
…
Her kitchen has always been her sanctuary. Now it only fills her stomach with fear.

The blond housewife looks around, trying to think of something to fix her children for breakfast. She opens the pantry and cupboards. Dust and doubt fill them.

Haley follows her in. She hesitantly peeks around the corner before entering her mom
’
s domain. The 15-year-old
’
s pink-streaked hair cranes back, spotting Tyler sitting up on the couch in the living room.

Her brother
’
s eyes squint in concern. Haley holds her hands up, signaling for him to stay put.

“
Mom?
”
Haley asks. She lays a questioning hand on her mother
’
s slumped shoulders.

Katherine looks over at her pale son, then back to the sparse cupboards. Her mind races.
Please, Devin. Tell me what to do
…

Haley leans in front of her
,
trying to make eye contact with her increasingly distant mom.
“
Talk to me,
”
the teen presses. Her voice wavers, growing more and more worried at the look on her mother
’
s face.
“
I
’
m not a child anymore. You can tell me what
’
s going on.
”

Katherine stares down at the countertop, unable to meet her daughter
’
s eyes.
“
I
’
d been putting off shopping because of all the crowds and price-gouging,
”
she says quietly.
“
Now the stores are all closed. They
’
ve either run out of food or don
’
t have anyone left to work.
”

“
What
’
re we gonna do?
”
Tyler asks, sneaking closer so he can hear the conversation.

Katherine leans forward and rests her arms on the dark granite surface. The stone
’
s icy touch spreads up her elbows, freezing the solutions from her mind.

There
’
s a broken uncertainty on her mother
’
s face that scares Haley to the core. Her mom has always been everything to them. With Dad gone for days at a time, her mom had to take on everything else. Cook. Maid. Teacher. Friend.

Now her mother just stands there, silent, drained of both answers and strength.

The teenager begins rummaging through the cupboards.
“
We
’
ll be okay, Ty,
”
she says, feigning cheerfulness for her brother.
“
Look, we can fix some Top Ramen for breakfast. Dad bought a huge box so he could take some to work. That
’
ll last us the whole week at least.
”
Haley tosses the small orange package to her brother.
“
You like those, right?
”

“
You can cook?
”
Tyler asks, surprised by the sudden helpfulness of his big sister. Uncertainty scowls from his face.

“
I took a term of home ec., thank you very much,
”
Haley defends. Her eyebrows lower as she imitates one of her mother
’
s scolding expressions.
“
Of course, I did it mainly to get my GPA back up, and there was this really hot guy
…
”
Her eyes drift up toward the ceiling.
“
Anyways, it doesn
’
t take a genius to boil water.
”
Haley smirks back at her brother.
“
Even you could do it.
”

“
T
hanks,
”
Tyler smiles. The subtle jokes and affection from his sister this week were hard to get used to at first. After years of condescension and fighting, Tyler had learned to just stay away from her. But not now.

“
Any time,
”
Haley adds. She winks at him, just like she used to when they were little.

“
Yummy,
”
Katherine mutters under her breath.

Haley glares back. She pulls a saucepan out with a clang, filling it with water.

Katherine looks up at the silent reprimand. The chastisement from her 15-year-old finally breaks through.
“
I
’
m sorry, Haley,
”
she says. Kat walks over to the range and turns it on for her daughter.

“
I know. I
’
m worried, too. But we can get through this,
”
Haley says.

There
’
s a new maturity in her eyes that amazes Katherine. She pushes a lock of her daughter
’
s pink-streaked hair back behind her ear.

“
Have you been able to get a
hold of Grandma?
”
Haley asks.

“
Not yet. Everything
’
s still down: phones, Internet, everything.
”

“
They always keep their deep-freeze packed. She could bring some food out from the farm,
”
Haley says. She pauses, not wanting to risk her mom
’
s improving mood by asking again.
“
Or we could go out there.
”

“
No!
”
Katherine shouts.
“
We need to stay here for your father. If he comes home
…
”
she stops, catching herself.
“
When. When he comes home. If we
’
re not here, he might
…
”
Her voice trails off again. She knows in her heart that Devin
’
s still out there
—
still on his way back to them. But her mind screams out with so many doubts.

Tyler turns the television back on, changing the channel from news to cartoons. The 8-year-old can feel when another censored adult moment is on the way. He sits back on the couch, grinning at Batman
’
s impossible jump across Gotham
’
s rooftops.

“
It
’
s been almost a week, Mom,
”
Haley whispers. She adjusts the boiling pot of water on the stove. Her eyes sting with tears.
“
And we haven
’
t heard anything. I mean
…
”

“
He
’
s coming, baby,
”
Kat says. She
’
s not sure who needs reassurance more.
“
Your dad is too damn stubborn not to.
”

Haley manages a smile. She cracks the noodles into the boiling liquid. They quickly soften, their strength fading under the water
’
s assault.

The teenager looks back at her mom, eyes narrowing.
“
What aren
’
t you telling me?
”

Katherine turns sharply. She looks behind her to make sure Tyler is still watching the TV.
“
They aren
’
t releasing any insulin at the hospitals. Everything
’
s been redirected.
”

“
What? They can
’
t do that,
”
Haley says.

“
They already have, Haley. I
’
ve been to every hospital and pharmacy from here to Salem. There
’
s nothing left.
”
Katherine looks back at her son laughing innocently on the couch.
“
I don
’
t know what else to do.
”

The rain begins to fall harder outside the kitchen window. Dark storm clouds flash violently overhead.

Seattle
’
s ruins fade behind
the
small group walking south along
a
once-busy interstate. The unforgiving rains started soon after the refugee camp disappeared from view, attacking everything below with its constant message.

Layers of ripped girders shear through the skyline far behind them. Metal rises into a black sky.
They
hang over the dead city like industrial grave posts for the forgotten
—
and
a warning for those still to come.

The fireman
’
s feet rise and fall with rhythmic urgency. He adjusts the shoulder strap from his black munitions bag, slinging it across his body to better distribute the weight. Devin
’
s clothes are now completely soaked through
but the rain doesn’t burn anymore
. His suit grips his body with a clinging chill. Only a handful of other survivors move along the split freeway with him in the storm.