The Raven's Gift - Don Rearden [89]
John shrugged.
“It’s like being stuck in an old rusty leg trap. You can gnaw your leg clean off and get free, but you’re still going to be out one leg. Say you make it. Say people aren’t sick. That means they accepted this mess. They quarantined us and never came to help. Never made a food drop. Nothing. Who could live with people that would allow us to suffer like this? Or let’s say you make it there—you travel damn near a thousand miles only to find it hit them, too. Then what? Keep travelling toward Seattle?”
John suddenly felt full. His body flushed hot. His stomach rolled. He felt trapped inside the tank. He slid back his chair from the table and stood up. He walked to the door, unbolted it, and cracked it just enough to stick his nose and mouth out. He took a deep breath of the cold racing in.
He shut the door, bolted it, and rested his cheek against the cool metal. He clenched his abdominal muscles and tried to will them to hold his dinner down.
“You okay?” Red asked.
“Just not used to being so full,” he said, sitting back down, and then standing and walking around the room.
Red let out a long, low belch. “Me neither.”
The girl finally took one of the pieces of chicken from her bowl and gently began to pull the meat from the bone. The two of them watched her and sat in silence while she ate.
She finished chewing the end of a bone and set it into her bowl. She reached across the table and took John’s hand. “We should find Maggie and the kids and make sure they are safe first,” she said.
THE LIGHTS FLICKERED and Anna posed a terrible question that he hadn’t considered. “What happens if the power goes out?” she asked.
They were lying in bed, reading. The lamp beside their bed flickered again. She closed her book and rolled over and rested her head on his chest. Her skin felt too warm against his, but she always felt warm against him.
“What if the person who runs the village’s power gets sick? Or his family? What then?”
“Don’t be such a doomsayer, Anna. You’re always giving me crap about my unholy statements. Where’s your hope?”
“I’m serious. What if the power goes out? How will we stay warm? It’s not like we have a woodstove, or any other options. If the power goes out, we won’t have heat, John. No communications, nothing. Nothing!”
“It’s not going to go out. Besides, if it did, we’ve got good sleeping bags. We can always generate our own heat, too, you know.”
He thrust against her with his hips.
“Don’t! I’m serious!”
She rolled over on her back and stared up at the ceiling.
“If this gets really bad, how long do you think it will take for someone to come help? I mean—they won’t wait too long, will they? What would we do? We’re so screwed, you know? We’re helpless, aren’t we? We might as well be on a desert island. What are we going to do? Walk out of here?”
He shrugged and pretended to read his book. He was worried her questions were building to some sort of hysterical breakdown again. She wasn’t dealing well with being cooped up, and neither was he, and her constant fretting didn’t help anything.
“I feel funny. Not sick. Just funny. You know? Probably dehydrated. We’re going to have to get water tomorrow from the school. No matter what.”
The light winked out for a moment and then popped back on. The power often fluctuated in the village, but the brief flicker felt ominous.
She turned away from him, curled up into a ball, and began to sob. He didn’t know what to tell her, so he said nothing and just rubbed her shoulder with his palm; then he turned off the light and put his arms around her.
33
Red insisted that Rayna and John sleep on the bed. He pulled an old green army cot out from under the mattress and John helped him set it up. Red didn’t have the strength to snap the two metal end bars into place, and John surprised himself when he got them both on the first try. The new food supply was definitely helping his muscles recover.
They settled into the bed,