Robby didn’t move an inch while Brad talked. As soon as Brad finished, Robby rose, took their plates and headed for the kitchen.
“I have to at least help with cleanup,” Brad said. He stood and dabbed his mouth with his napkin before dropping it on the chair. Outside, the sun went down, leaving them on a little island of flickering light provided by the candles and heaters.
“I’ll come too,” Judy said. “I swear he has night vision.”
Brad followed Judy to the kitchen. They used the glow of the candles and headed for the dark door. Judy fished a small flashlight from her pocket just as a light in the kitchen came on and gave them something to navigate towards.
In the kitchen, Robby lit a bright lantern and set it on one of the stovetops. On another burner, a big pot held simmering water.
“I’ve got to go,” he said and pointed as they entered the kitchen.
Judy nodded as Robby headed towards a back door. Brad saw a dim rectangle of light as Robby let himself out into the evening.
“Where’s he going?” Brad asked.
“He means go,” she said. “You know? You want to wash, rinse, or dry?”
“I’ll take rinse,” Brad said. “Back at the Dead Ferret, I just toss them in a barrel.”
“The Dead Ferret?” Judy asked. She tested the temperature of the water in the big pot with her finger and then hefted it to the sink.
“It’s just what I call the house where I’ve been crashing,” he said.
“Gruesome,” she said, flashing him a thin smile.
“I’ll call it the D.F. then,” he said. “Seems presumptuous to call it home. I don’t know how long I’ll stay there anyway. Nothing in the closet fits me. I might look around for a place with more light.”
“You can draw another pot of water from the barrel over there,” she pointed.
“Is this potable?” Brad asked, eyeing the large white plastic container of water near the door. “I haven’t been washing dishes because I didn’t want to use up a whole lot of good water. I figured it was more precious than the dishes themselves.”
“We pump our own from a well,” Judy said from the sink. She was scrubbing the syrup from the plates with hot soapy water.
Brad set the pot down on the floor next to the white tub. A hose came out of the top where a thumbscrew was mounted. When Brad turned the plastic tap, a little water flowed from the hose below. The stream petered out rapidly.
Robby came through the back door as Brad tried to puzzle out the water barrel. Brad could smell the hand sanitizer Robby rubbed between his young hands.
“It’s pressurized,” Robby said. “You pump it up here.”
“Like a keg?” Brad said.
“I guess,” Robby said.
Robby followed Brad back to the sink. Brad rinsed the dishes and handed them to Robby to dry. The light from the lantern was bright, but lit everything from behind, so most of their movements happened in the shadows. Robby seemed to see everything and helped Judy and Brad get the dishes perfect before he dried them and set them back on the prep counter.
“So, you saw a layer of black soot in the snow strata?” Robby asked.
“In Freeport? Yes,” Brad asked and answered.
“Tornado?” Judy asked Robby, as the boy hung up the towel.
“I think so,” Robby said.
“What’s that?” Brad asked.
“You remember how I told you about my boat trip?” Robby asked. When Brad nodded, the boy continued—“I saw clusters of tornadoes tearing apart some of the cities along the coast. I’m guessing Yarmouth was one of those. You said you couldn’t see any signs of any buildings in Yarmouth, and you also mentioned a layer of soot in the snow in Freeport. I think when the tornadoes tore apart Yarmouth, they put down a layer of soot in Freeport.”
“Yeah, I wanted to ask you more about that,” Brad said. “These were sentient tornadoes?”
“Controlled by something,” Robby said. “Not necessarily intelligent themselves.”
“Sure,” Brad said. “That makes sense. I mean, it challenges the imagination, but anything’s possible, right?”
“Given enough energy,” Robby said.
“I don’t believe that,” Judy said. She folded her arms. “Can we go back in the dining room? It’s cold in here.”
Robby didn’t reply, but immediately moved towards the door, picking up the lantern on the way. Brad and Judy followed him back to the dining room where the heaters felt pleasant. Judy moved her chair closer to a heater and sat down. Robby put the lantern on a table of one of the booths.
“Should we close the curtains or something?” Brad asked. He walked over to the booth next to the one where Robby left the lantern. “You could probably see that light from across town.”
“We haven’t found anything in town here to be afraid of,” Judy said.
“Yet,” Brad said. He stared out the window, not sure what he was looking for, but feeling exposed nonetheless.
“Right. We haven’t found anything to be afraid of yet,” Robby said. “What are you afraid of?”
Brad spun and faced Robby—“As far as I know, there are only four people left alive in the world. What am I not afraid of would be a better question.”
“There’s a bigger group of us spread around. You’ll meet everyone the next time we have a big meeting. Come tell us again what happened before the snow fell,” Robby said as he sat down at the table again. He propped his head up on his hand.
Judy pretended to look over at the flame of the heater, but she watched Brad out of the corner of her eye.
“Okay,” Brad said. “Not much to tell, really. I was working on a contract. My boss didn’t call me when he was supposed to. It started to snow on Thanksgiving Day, then my internet went down, then TV and radio, and then the power.”
“Cell phone?” Robby asked.
“That went out,” Brad started and then stopped. “That went out the same time as the TV and radio.”
“And you didn’t try to get to town then?” Robby asked.
“I tried, sure,” Brad said. “But the roads were already too bad to drive. Nothing had been plowed. Besides, I figured nothing would be open on Thanksgiving Day.”
“How far do you live from Kingston?” Robby asked.
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” Brad said. He forced himself to stay seated and return his hands to his lap.
“We just want to hear as much of your story as we can,” Robby said. “The more we know, the closer we get to figuring this thing out.”
“Yeah, no pressure,” Judy said. “Just anything you can remember.”
“Why are you two so convinced that there’s anything more to tell?” Brad asked. “Neither of your stories contained anything particularly interesting before the snow started to fall. Why should my experience have been any different?”
“One of the guys who I first met in Portland, after I came back north, had been evacuated from Kingston Depot before the snow started,” Robby said. “He said the National Guard moved in almost a week before Thanksgiving and removed everyone.”
“On the news last fall they downplayed the whole thing,” Judy said. “At least they did at first. They started by saying some people were asked to leave their homes because of a groundwater contamination. Later in the week, just before the storm, there was a story that there was more to it. They showed pictures of Kingston Depot on the news—Army and National Guard trucks were everywhere.”
“I wasn’t evacuated,” Brad said. “But, then again, I live out in the country. My nearest neighbor is over a mile away.”
“On the Meadow Road, right?” Robby asked.
“Yes,” Brad said after a moment.