Louis Collins: A Post-American Odyssey

Louis saw no movement behind the lit window. No other windows were lit.

“Could be a trap,” Gladice said quietly.

“Could be someone who lives here,” Donya said.

“Who would live out here?” Maeve asked.

“I’d say we shoot anyone who isn’t us on sight,” Gladice said. “That’s the smart choice.”

“We don’t know who they are,” Angelique said. “And we need information.”

“Maybe they are friendly,” Cherish said.

“Or maybe they are waiting with a shotgun,” Maeve said.

“We can check first. From a distance,” Louis said.

“How?” Gladice asked.

“We split up.” Louis kept his eyes on the house. “I will go to the front door. The rest of you hide in the trees. If there’s a problem, cover me.”

“Are you insane?” Maeve asked. “You will get shot.”

“I will be careful,” he said. “I will knock.”

“Knock?” Gladice laughed. “You plan to knock on a door in the middle of an exclusion zone? What are you going to say? ‘Hello, sorry to bother you, but we just escaped from a communist army helicopter crash and we were wondering if you have a phone and a spare room for the night?’”

“No, he will say he’s lost.” Savannah nodded slowly. “It’s a classic. Men always think they can talk their way out of anything.”

“It has worked before,” Louis said. “Sometimes.”

“Or we can just ignore them and move on?” Willa asked.

“All of us are exhausted.” Angelique glanced at Cherish. “We need to rest soon. And we can’t rest nearby if someone else is here.”

“I will go with you,” Maeve said. “If anyone answers, I will handle it.”

“Me too,” Gladice said. “I want to see how this plays out.”

“No, you are the best shooter in the group.” Louis shook his head. “I want you covering us. From a good position.”

Gladice considered this, then gave a short nod. “Alright. But if I see anything I don’t like, I’m shooting first.”

“And leave the rifle.” Louis turned to Maeve. “We don’t want to scare them. You have a pistol?”

“Yes.” Maeve unslung her M16 and passed it to Angelique. “But I am not happy about this.”

“Me either,” Angelique said, taking the rifle. “But Louis knows what he is doing.”

“I hope so,” Maeve said, drawing her pistol and checking the magazine.

Cherish clutched her rifle and looked at Louis. “Be careful.”

“I will.” he smiled at her. “Follow Gladie’s lead while we’re gone. Stay together.”

Cherish looked at Gladice, then back at Louis. “I will.”

The others moved into the trees opposite the house. Maeve touched Louis’s sleeve and nodded toward the house.

“Stay close. Watch the windows.”

They left the road. The house stood about fifty yards away, partly hidden by trees growing close to the walls. Most of the white paint had peeled away, exposing gray wood. A thin trail of smoke rose from the chimney.

Louis stepped onto the porch. He kept the M1911 low behind his thigh, with the muzzle toward the ground and his finger outside the trigger guard. Maeve came up beside him with the flashlight lowered and her pistol held close to her side.

Louis raised his free hand and knocked once. No one answered, so he knocked again. Then he heard light footsteps on the floorboards. A door chain moved, and the door opened halfway.

A boy stood in the gap. He was short and thin, with a long neck and sloping shoulders. Thin pale hair covered his scalp unevenly. His eyes were pale gray, and one drifted slightly as he looked from Louis to Maeve. His mouth stayed open for a moment before he closed it, showing crowded teeth with dark spots along the edges. A smaller girl peered from the kitchen doorway behind him. She had the same pale hair and narrow face. One of her eyes turned inward slightly.

“You road people?” the boy asked.

He spoke slowly, leaving a pause between the words.

“We are traveling through,” Louis said.

The boy remained silent for several seconds.

“Where from?”

“South,” Louis said. “We are going north. Where is your family?”

“Outside.”

“Outside where?”

“Outside.”

Louis glanced at Maeve. She kept watching the boy.

“Where is this place?” she asked.

“Home.”

“How long have you lived here?”

“Always.”

The boy stared at them while the girl watched from the kitchen doorway.

“Can we come in?” Louis asked.

The boy was silent for a moment, then stepped back and opened the door wider. “Yes.”

Louis and Maeve entered. A lamp burned on a rough wooden table. Two chairs and a cot took up most of the room. A wood stove stood against one wall, and a waste bucket sat in the corner.

The boy sat at the table.

“What are your parents doing outside?” Maeve asked.

The boy paused before answering. “Getting things.”

“What things?”

“Food,” the girl said from the kitchen.

She came into the room and sat on the floor beside her brother without looking at Louis or Maeve. Louis studied them both. Their clothes did not match and hung loosely on them.

The boy’s gaze dropped to the M1911.

“You have a gun,” he said.

His question sounded curious rather than afraid.

“Yes,” Louis said. “For safety.”

“Ma has one too.” The boy sounded proud.

“Oh?” Maeve said. “Where?”

“On her.”

“What do you mean?”

“On her.” The boy pointed at his own body.

Louis crouched beside the table so he would not tower over the children.

“What is your name?”

“Jory.” The boy pointed at the girl. “Mina.”

“Jory and Mina. Your parents are coming back soon?”

“Later.”

“How much later?”

“Later.”

Mina stared at Maeve’s pistol.

“Do you have a radio?” Maeve asked.

“What’s radio?” Jory asked.

“A thing that talks to other people.”

“Here.” Mina pointed to her mouth.

“Not that,” Maeve said. “A radio with buttons.”

Jory shook his head. “No buttons.”

“Okay.” Louis stood. “We need to go.”

“No,” Jory said. “Stay.”

“Why?”

“Supper soon.”

Louis looked at Maeve, and she met his eyes.

“What do we do?” Louis asked quietly.

Maeve kept watching the children. “I don’t know.”

“Are you hungry?” Mina asked suddenly.

“We have our own food,” Louis said.

Mina returned to the kitchen. “We have stew.”

She stirred the pot with a wooden spoon.

“Stew is good,” Jory said.

Maeve followed Mina into the kitchen, leaving Louis with Jory.

“You have a map?” Louis asked.

“What’s map?” Jory asked.

“A paper with lines on it,” Louis said. “Shows where things are.”

“Yes.” Jory pointed to a shelf. “There.”

Louis went to the shelf and found a crude drawing on top of a stack of magazines. The pencil lines formed the outline of a human body, with rough labels beside several parts.

Maeve returned from the kitchen, her face pale. “Louis.”

He turned.

“What?”

“We need to leave. Now!”

“Okay,” Louis said.

Jory stood. “Where you go?”

“We have to go.” Louis stepped toward the door. “Thank you for your help.”

“No go,” Jory said. He moved between them and the door. “You stay for supper.”

“We can’t,” Maeve said. “We have to keep moving.”

“Ma won’t like it,” Jory said.

Mina put a bowl of stew on the table. Louis glanced at it and saw pieces of meat he could not identify among gray tubers.

Mina kept stirring the pot. “It’s fresh.”

Louis’s stomach tightened. He looked at Maeve. Her eyes were wide with alarm. He raised the M1911.

“We are leaving,” he said.

Jory’s eyes locked on the pistol. “You can’t.”

“Stay back.”

Maeve backed toward the door. “Louis, we need to go now!”

Louis kept the pistol aimed at Jory. “Let us through.”

Jory did not move. “No.”

“Let us through or I will shoot you.”

Jory stared at him. “Ma wouldn’t like that.”

“I don’t care,” Louis said. “Move!”

Jory kept standing. Louis heard an engine outside, then a second one. Jory crossed to the window and pulled the curtain aside.

“They’re back,” he said.

Mina set the spoon down without making a sound. She took the bowl from the table and placed it in the sink. Maeve kept her pistol low beside her leg. Louis moved to the door and listened.

“Is that your parents?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Who else?”

Jory turned from the window. “Ma.”

Outside, the engines drew closer. Their high-pitched sound rose and fell over the uneven ground. ATVs were coming toward the house.

Maeve looked at Louis. He moved beside the window, staying out of the light. Through a gap in the curtain, he saw headlights appear between the trees. Two appeared first, with more following behind them. The vehicles rolled into the yard and stopped near the porch. Men and women in coats and patched masks climbed off, with rifles and crossbows slung across their backs. They pulled two bodies from the rear racks of separate ATVs.

From the kitchen, Mina looked at Louis and smiled.

“Meat,” she said.

Someone pounded on the front door.

A voice outside called, “Jory. Open up.”