Chapter Twelve

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I didn't realize just how exhausted I would be after a day of hunting, but it hits me in the shower and I can't stop yawning. I'm completely wiped out and I just want to fall over and sleep. At the same time, my stomach won't stop growling, I really haven't eaten much today. Out of the shower and off to the kitchen.

We keep a stash of pre-cooked bacon in the freezer for convenience. It's also a luxury, truth be told. I fry up two eggs and toss them on some toast with bacon and cram the whole thing down my gullet as fast as I can chew and swallow. The whole time my head is propped up on my hand, my eyelids are drooping, it's all beyond my control. My brain is threatening to shut down operation right there at the table.

It's a struggle getting up from the table, but a warm bed is only a short walk away. Halfway down the hall I hear what I think are voices, I stop. Listen. I hear faint murmuring coming from the doorway a few steps away - Heath's room. I creep forward. Closer. Closer. I round the doorway and peer into the darkened room, I definitely hear talking. There is a small lump completely concealed by flannel sheets and strategically placed pillows. A golden shaft of telltale light streams from beneath one pillow. I peel back the covers, there is Heath with a flashlight and the radio Ari gave him.

"What are you doing? Do you know what time it is?" I whisper. "You are supposed to be asleep."

Heath just stares up at me, he does this at times, answering questions with complete silence and a quizzical gaze. Makes me feel like I am speaking gibberish. Maybe his brain is processing, stuck in a loop as it tries to digest the dozen or so possible excuses he could offer, desperately trying to select the best one. The least fictitious, most believable non-truth he can offer.

"Well?" I prompt.

He frowns, his lower lip quivers. "I can't sleep. I have scary dreams."

I feel instantly guilty and there is a twinge in my chest. I've been busy, preoccupied, caught up in all the things going on in my world, I haven't paid much attention to what is going on in his. How does he perceive all these changes? How does his little mind assess and make sense of the new normal? How much does he know? His life and routine have been disrupted just as much as mine - perhaps more. I'm not doing a very good job as a father if I'm not protecting him or preparing him, or explaining to him, as best I can, what is going on in the world. So here he is, late at night, scared and alone, listening to a shortwave broadcaster talk about the food riots in New York, trying to make sense of it all.

I slip in next to him. "Turn it off buddy."

"What's happening Daddy?"

"There's a lot of different things happening. Let's talk about it tomorrow." It's dismissive, but I'm just so tired.

"What's a war-saw?"

"Huh?"

"A war-saw. It was on the radio, someone had taken a war-saw."

It took a few moments for my sleep deprived brain to process and make sense of. "Oh, did you hear that someone took Warsaw?"

"Yes. Is it like an ax?"

"No Heath. Warsaw is a city in Poland and the Russians have taken control of it. That is what they are talking about on the radio."

"Oh. Why did they take it?"

"I really don't know, there are people over there right now that can't agree on some things, so they are fighting."

"They said people are dying."

"Yes, that is probably true." I really don't want to discuss the horrors of modern warfare with a five year old.

"Are we going to die?"

"No. No buddy, we are not going to die."

"What if the Russia people come here? What if they burn down our house, or put bombs here."

"They won't, Heath, they are far away."

"But what if they do? What if they get on a plane?"

"Heath, they won't come here. They won't burn the house and they won't hurt you."

"How do you know daddy? How can you be sure?"

"Daddy won't let it happen, that's how." It's a cheap parental trick, essentially a lie, but it appeases his curiosity and assuages his fears, for now and he rolls over and closes his eyes. It however, has made me feel more guilty because I cannot answer his questions to my own satisfaction. Maybe the Russians are of no concern, but there are plenty of other concerns that I do not have answers for. Threats that are closer and more imminent.

I am powerless to prevent the coming future, and it pains me. There is a pall of creeping darkness, day by day the threads of society loosen a little bit more and the unwelcome atrocities of a tomorrow I wish to avoid edge closer and closer. There is a cancer spreading in the world and no treatment, no miracle cure, no desperate measure can alter the prognosis. The patient is terminal, the grave has been dug and the headstone bought and paid for.

Now I can't sleep. I draw on Heath's back - whimsical, carefree works of invisible art. His breathing slows, deepens and becomes perfectly rhythmic. I pry the radio from his hand and lay there listening to the accented broadcaster. I run the dial from end to end pausing at each station that comes in clear enough to hear. Major cities are erupting in chaos as food runs low, many have called in troops to help maintain order which has lead to street fighting. Ottawa has brought in troops as a preventative measure, while others have been sent to all the major urban centers. One broadcaster laments that Los Angeles is on fire. I try to picture this in my head, and entire city ablaze. It's simultaneously horrifying and surreal. I miss pop culture media, I would give anything to hear news about the trials and tribulations of a celebrity. Where have they all gone?

A couple more channels and the knot in my stomach has tightened to the point where it's physically painful. I turn the radio off. I lay in the dark staring at one of Heath's night lights. I try to will myself back to sleepiness, but I'm too agitated now.

I need to concentrate on the present, on the immediate local issues and not get caught up in the global catastrophe. I need to itemize, prioritize and work toward addressing the things that are most pressing for myself and Kate and Heath. Overall, I guess our biggest threat presently might be UCC, since they have at least threatened to make us homeless. There lies my challenge.

Kate mentioned a UCC office near her place of work. I can get a ride in with her, go talk to someone and straighten the whole thing out. How hard can that be? I start practicing monologues in my head. All the things I need to say to a UCC agent in order to set our mortgage back on track.

A hundred imaginary dialogues later, I drift off to sleep and dream of sitting in the duck blind. I am alone, the skies are dull grey and angry. I call for ducks but none come. I am cold and hungry and I need ducks to feed my family. I call some more. Shapes form on the horizon, high up and moving fast. They are not ducks, they look like Cold War era Russian bombers. I raise my gun, but it's empty and they pass over me, unhindered. The lead plane fuselage bears the Russian star and a UCC logo. I know why they are here, my heart goes cold. They've come to bomb my home.


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