Several weeks passed after the nightmare I had. Winter continued pushing through, covering everything in a blanket of white. My dad and I shoveled snow on nearly a daily basis just to get out in the fresh air, although cold when inhaled through the nose.
Zombies were a thing of the past now, but I wasn't getting my hopes up as we watched The Walking Dead. If the virus was persistent, or resistant to the cold, there would never be a world free of zombies. Keeping optimistic though, I focused on how people could survive – how my dad and I had survived. It wasn't easy making it this far, and when compared to movies and television, our apocalypse still seemed mild.
With that in mind, I didn't get too comfortable inside the house, safe from the elements. Seasons changed, that was inevitable. Zombies on the other hand, were never to be underestimated. Various diseases throughout time had proven fatal to our species, as well as others with whom we shared the planet. Eradicating the virus through killing those infected and burning their bodies would only work for so long. Even quarantines wouldn't be of much use if people weren't able to be cured. A cure was probably our only chance of turning this nightmare off. Too bad procuring a switch wasn't easier.
Waking one morning to a silent house after Christmas, I wondered if others had skipped on the celebration as well. Seasonal items like stockings and a tree never got set up in our living room. It was a family tradition to decorate the tree, but without my mom around, we didn't want to be reminded again of that fact. Even the fridge looked like it had the holiday spirit sucked out of it, void of the usual carton of eggnog my dad and I would try to make last.
My sheets were wrapped around me, making it difficult to get out of bed. I reluctantly separated myself from my cocoon and sauntered down the hall in my warm pajama pants and t-shirt. Outside it was quiet, the wind calm. The blinds were still closed, so I turned the rods on each set to let light grace the kitchen floor. Peering out the window over the kitchen sink, I knew shoveling snow would be on our agenda for the day.
I turned away after staring at the front yard for several minutes, then headed to the washroom. When I turned the taps to wash my hands, I was greeted with a rather low water pressure. Quickly lathering my hands with soap, I rinsed them off and dried them.That can't be good, I thought to myself, walking down the hall to wake my dad.
"Hey, wake up," I hissed.
My dad grumbled and rolled out of bed.
"I was just about to get up," he informed me.
"Good, because I think we're in for a long day."
"Why?" he groaned, shuffling along in pajama pants and slippers.
"You'll see." I stepped back to let him enter the hallway. "Hope you don't have to wash your hands."
Since I wasn't known as 'Mr. Fixit' I didn't have many guesses as to why there was low water pressure. The only reasonable guess I had based on logic was that a pipe had frozen.
After breakfast, which consisted of toast and eggs for both of us, I followed my dad downstairs as he started troubleshooting our water problem. There was just enough water left in the fridge for his morning coffee, but not oatmeal. And since he was most likely going to be fixing the issue, I wanted to make sure he wasn't grumpy.
It took him a matter of minutes to figure out what the problem was. Checking all the pipes was easy, and the filtration system checked out fine as well. The well pump seemed to be the problem, which meant we were both going outside to fix it.
Suited up for the cold conditions, we headed around the south side of the house opposite the garage. We trudged through the deep snow that had accumulated, pacing ourselves for the tedious trek to the well opening.
"Fine time for something like this to break," I muttered through my scarf.
"If I can't fix it on my own, those cases of water are going to be all we have."
"Oh, great." Digging the shovel into the snow ahead of me, I continued around to the back corner of the house. "Maybe we should have had a backup plan in case this sort of thing happened."
"Like what?" my dad asked, driving his shovel into the snow to clear the top of the well opening.
"I dunno," I sighed, helping him dig. "Could have stolen a water truck I guess."
He chuckled. "Well we won't be doing that any time soon since we didn't steal a snowplow. I bet all the roads are blocked with snowdrifts. And there's no way my little truck can make it to a repair shop, never mind your wagon."
Exhaling a cold breath, I looked down at the bare well cover. If there was ever a time we needed some luck, it was now. I would have even prayed if I knew it would help. My dad brushed the remaining snow off the edges with his gloves, then stuck his shovel into the snow as he positioned a pry bar to open the well.
Once it was loose, I helped him slide the cover off. He knelt down and reached in, disconnecting the wires.
Looking up at me, "Now for the fun part."
By the time we had the cap off and the pipe fully removed – with pump dangling on the end – the tips of my fingers and toes were starting to go numb. My dad managed to separate the pump unit from the line, allowing us to head back inside before frostbite began to set in.
With no water left to make a hot drink, I headed for my room and put on a movie. I stuck my feet under the covers and sat on my hands while my dad tinkered in the basement. If he wasn't able to fix the pump, I would be opening our first case of spare water, which I really didn't want to do.
When the movie finished, I left my room and decided to check on the old man. He was wrapping electrical tape around some wires as I rounded the corner of the basement entrance.
"Well? What's the verdict?"
Still carefully wrapping the wires he replied, "We'll soon find out."
"You fixed it didn't you?"
He stood up and cut the tape, then looked at me. "I redid the wiring and checked the motor. It looks like it was just a faulty wire, so provided we connect everything back up properly, we should be good."
"Should be. Great..." I was not so assured by his words. "That idea of stealing a water truck is sounding a whole lot better right about now."
"We should be fine," he insisted, walking past me upstairs.
Outside once again, we did everything in reverse and sealed the cap, then re-placed the cover over the well. As my dad had explained, if we didn't screw anything up putting things back together, we would go back inside to running water again.
Slightly out of breath with rosy cheeks, we stood around the bathroom sink in anticipation. Dad turned the handle and the water sputtered out at first. He turned it off and waited. After ten seconds he tried again. I stared at the faucet as if I was a Jedi, using the force to make it work. Then out of nowhere the water slowly gained pressure and my dad laughed.
"Haha! There we go!"
I smiled at him as he shut it off and walked out to check the other faucets in the house. We were lucky, all of the others worked as they should as well.
"And just so you know," I began as the kettle started to boil, "I'm seriously considering the water truck idea. It wasn't just a joke."
"Oh, really? Does that mean our first adventure after the snow melts will be stealing again?"
"Obviously. We did such a good job at Lowe's, we're practically experts now."
He rolled his eyes as he turned away and unplugged the kettle.