The Pilot (ON HOLD)

Part 4

"Then what did he say?" Brendan asked.

I sigh, rubbing my face against his shoulder, feeling the methodic tensing of muscle under flannel as he patiently milks Star. "He, he... I...."

"Slow down and spit it out."

His quiet words, the soothing sounds and smells of the barn, the soft fabric and hard muscle under my cheek, and I consciously relaxed my shoulders.

"You're too good to me, Bren; you deserve so much more than this."

The arm under my cheek pauses, "None of us asked for this, and I can't help but feel like we're doing it well. All of us."

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" I ask.

The milking resumes.

"You can sleep with me anytime."

"I'm scared, Bren."

"What did he say?"

"It's not just us anymore, it's everyone. Even China with it's closed borders. He was in New York with a group of humanitarian aid workers, specialists from Britain. He was the pilot. There was a doctor, some engineers, electrician, people like that, looking at the feasibility of efforts to restore more infrastructure."

Brendan nodded, "What did New York look like?"

"He asked me if I'd seen the old movie The Warriors. I told him I had, when I was fifteen. He asked me if I remember how they portrayed New York after dark. I admitted just remembering feeling hopeless. That's exactly how New York is now, he said, gangs running the streets, no government, no rules, just death in every form."

Brendan leans his head against Star's soft belly; she looks back at him a little curiously, then goes back to her feed. "Did he know about any other cities?"

My back is aching and I straighten up, "He said the big cities were decimated, smaller towns fared better but estimates in Europe are that two thirds of the American population perished from what they're calling the Apollyon Virus."

"Apollyon?"

"The Destroyer, the Angel of Death."

"Why's he here?"

"They'd been in New York, not quite a day and were attacked, several of their group killed outright. The gang or attackers or whatever they were, wanted the plane and the pilot. They protected him, his passengers, all the way back to the aircraft because he was the only one who could fly it. In the end, three made it on board, the other two died in the crash."

Brendan finished the milking, handing me the pail. He led Star back to her stall then turned and looked at me, "Do you believe him?"

I laugh, a tired, scoffing sound. "I'll take the milk in, the soup's almost ready. Why don't you come see what you think?"

"I trust your gut instinct more than mine."

"I haven't told him about the radio, and I told the boys not to mention it either, not yet."

"I agree," he says.

I head back to the house; it's starting to snow again. Standing in the mudroom, I hear the kids talking and laughing in the kitchen. Jake and Dylan are teasing Claire about women's work and I make a mental note to afford them the privilege of women's work tomorrow, see how they feel about cooking, cleaning and tutoring all day instead of being free to roam the surrounding woods. I'll send Claire and Bee with Brendan to finish with the array, a nice change all around. Glancing into my bedroom as I walk past, I see he's still asleep on the chair near the fire.

"I built up the fire a bit in your room so it wouldn't go out," Jake says.

"Thank you," I say, handing him the milk pail.

He pulls out the glass jar and empties the pail, rinsing it and setting it by the back door.

"Dylan, help the boys set the table. Make sure you set an extra place."

"Yes Ma'am."

I help the girls finish the soup and pull the bread from the oven and slice it. Brendan comes in and I feel a little tension slip away from me, we're all here, safe inside, dinner time. I fill a mug with water and walk into my bedroom, "Mr. Chisholm?" I touch his shoulder.

"I'm awake, just enjoying the sounds of normalcy."

I offer him the water.

He accepts, "Thank you."

"Dinner's ready, if you feel up to eating with us. We're having ham and bean soup with bread."

"Freshly baked?" he asks.

"Yes."

"How is this possible? The way you're living?"

I shrug, "It's kind of a long story, but the short version is, my grandma was a bit on the paranoid side. Come enjoy it with us?"