“Oh,” Brad said.
“It’s getting hard to see anything over near where you live. There are tire tracks everywhere,” Robby said. “But there are only a few tracks of people on foot. Everyone drives everywhere.”
Robby turned onto a street and joined the tire-tracks already there. On the left side of the street, little one-story houses sat on small lots with short walks leading down to the street. On the right side, the houses were spaced far apart, and their back yards ended with marsh trailing down to the river’s edge. These houses stood two or three stories high. Robby backed down the long driveway of a tall house with an attached garage. As he approached, he punched a button clipped the visor and the garage door began to lumber up. Using his mirrors, Robby guided the truck into the garage and then punched the button to lower the door again before he shut off the truck.
The truck’s engine ticked as it cooled in the big garage.
Robby opened his door before he spoke—“This is where I live right now.”
“Oh,” Brad said. He got out of the truck. “Nice place.”
The garage was clean and spacious, lit only by the bulb of the garage door opener and the two windows on the back wall which looked out to the marsh.
“Where does your power from?” Brad asked. He couldn’t hear any generator running.
“There’s a big bank of batteries and an inverter in there,” Robby said, pointing to a door in the direction of the house. “It’s charged by solar on the roof and a generator I run once a day.”
“Cool,” Brad said.
Robby removed a hose from the wall and uncoiled it carefully. One end had a submersible pump attached. Robby removed the cap from a barrel and dropped the pump and hose down into it. The other end of the pipe connected to a pipe mounted on the wall.
“This pump runs on two-twenty, so I have to run the generator,” Robby said. “It’s noisy.”
Robby had a talent for understatement, Brad decided. When Robby started the generator and engaged the pump, the sound was deafening. Communicating through yelling and hand gestures, Brad indicated that he was going to step outside.
Brad exited the garage through the side door out to the lawn. Many footprints led to the right, around the back of the garage. Behind the building, under the overhang of the roof, someone had brushed the snow off a granite bench. Brad sat down and looked over the marsh. Inside, he heard the motor of the generator level off and he guessed Robby had shut off the pump to move it from one barrel to the next.
At his feet, Brad found scattered gray cigarette ashes, but no butts. He looked closer at the footprints leading to the bench. They looked too narrow to belong to Robby. In fact, on some of the prints, the imprint from the heel looked no bigger than a silver dollar. These prints were from women’s shoes, Brad concluded.
After a few more cycles of the generator’s engine, the sound ended abruptly. Brad wandered back inside, wondering when the feeling would return to his numb backside.
“Sorry,” Robby said. “I guess I’m just used to how loud it is.”
“You ought to wear earplugs,” Brad said. “That’s probably ruining your ears.”
Robby nodded.
“Where does it pump to?” Brad asked.
“A big tank in the attic,” Robby said. “The plumbing in the house is convertible. It can either run on city water, or gravity-fed from upstairs.”
“Smart,” Brad said. “How did you find this place?”
“I drove around looking for solar panels, and then picked the best one,” Robby said. “Want to see inside?”
“Definitely,” Brad said.
Up a few stairs, a door led into a mud room. Robby took off his shoes as he entered and Brad stooped to do the same. The tile floor felt warm under Brad’s feet. He took off his jacket and hung it on a hook next to Robby’s. To their left, the kitchen opened up into a big family room. The whole back wall had big windows which looked out over the marsh and the river. Despite all the glass, the house felt warm and snug. Brad instantly felt more comfortable than he had in a month.
“You want some toast?” Robby asked.
“Love some,” Brad said.
Robby picked out four rough-cut slices of bread from the cutting board and inserted them into the toaster on the counter that separated the kitchen from the sitting area.
“Judy makes the best bread,” Robby said.
“She lives here too?” Brad asked.
“Yeah,” Robby said. “Is she out back smoking?”
“No,” Brad said. “I didn’t see her, at least.”
“She’s probably upstairs,” Robby said.
“It’s so warm in here,” Brad said.
“Yeah,” Robby said. “There’s a furnace downstairs that works on wood or oil. All the heat is radiant underfloor stuff. It’s nice, but it means you can’t sit next to the radiator if you’re really cold.”
“So you’ve got quite a setup here,” Brad said. He walked over to the island and pulled out a tall stool.
“It was all pretty much like this,” Robby said. “I just found it this way.”
“But it seems like you’ve made it a priority to create a comfortable life,” Brad said. “It’s not at all what I expected.”
Robby took a tub of margarine, some jam, and bottled water from the refrigerator. Brad accepted the drink.
“What did you expect?” Brad asked.
“You’ve been talking about aliens, and wiping out the last of the people, and fighting back,” Brad said. “I thought most of your energy would have gone to that.”
“We still need the basics though, right?” Robby asked.
“Fresh bread, refrigeration, and radiant heat hardly seem like the basics,” Brad said.
“Like I said,” Robby said, “this place was already set up.”
The toast popped up and Robby fetched two medium-sized plates from the cupboard and a knife from the drawer. He slid one plate towards Brad and pulled up a stool in front of the other. Robby waited for Brad to butter his toast before he took the knife to apply jam to his own.
“This is good,” Brad said. “Thank you. And thank Judy, wherever she is.”
“Probably upstairs,” Robby said. “So you were saying—I shouldn’t have heat?”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I’m just saying it doesn’t look like your priorities are centered around fighting. Shouldn’t you be doing reconnaissance? Studying the enemy? Trying to lie low and stay off the radar? Band together with allies? Stockpile weapons? Hell, even figure out what weapons would even work against an invisible enemy that controls the weather?”
“What else?” Robby asked.
“I don’t know what else,” Brad said. “That’s the point though, isn’t it? How old are you anyway? You’re clearly very smart, or you’ve had a lot of help figuring out how to get this house running and how to test water and everything, but do you know anything at all about mounting a resistance?”
“I’m still working on the ‘studying the enemy’ part,” Robby said.
“How’s that?” Brad asked.
“I’m working on establishing a bond of trust with a potential source of vital information,” Robby said. “And I’m fourteen.”
Brad took another bite of toast as he thought about Robby’s answers.
“This source of vital information—how are you establishing a bond of trust?” Brad asked.
“I showed him where I live and I fed him toast,” Robby said.
When Robby smiled, Brad broke into a laugh.
“Let me show you the basement,” Robby said.
BRAD STOOD AT the top as Robby led the way down the dark stairs. He gave Robby some space. Something about going to the basement with the young man seemed a little off. Robby hadn’t been excited to show off any other parts of the house. After they arrived in the kitchen, he didn’t even bother to show Brad the rest of the first floor. If Robby had turned around to beckon Brad, or shown any concern that he wasn’t following immediately behind, Brad would have fled. Only because Robby didn’t slow at all, Brad walked down the stairs.