A figure dashed into the middle of the picture. The time read, “4:16 p.m.” It was Phil. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. The camera showed a roll of fat and a soft mid-section. He glanced quickly left and right, as if hunting for a scent, then ran into the trees. The white form had moved off screen. Phil turned off the VCR. Now all the screens showed the closeup of Dodge watching the movie. Phil stared at him. “A man needs companionship. We weren’t meant to be alone. But I don’t think what I’ve recorded is human anymore.”
“What do you think it is?”
“I saw ’em first the summer Northglenn and Commerce City were deserted. I thought they left because of me—you know—like I did something to upset them. There was some trouble.” Looking down, he sat on the edge of the freezer. “They thought I’d kidnapped a kid, but I didn’t. The boy wanted to be here.” Phil stretched and leaned back until his head rested on the wall. Eric had to turn to see him. Phil said, “I lost him too. He left the same summer.”
Confused, Eric said, “I don’t get it. What’s the shape in the video? Why does it frighten you?” Phil slid off the freezer, put his hands on the back of the couch and whispered, “Millions of people died. Mom told me about it. I remember we went into a storehouse once—she thought it might have car parts in it. I didn’t want to go. Old building, windows boarded, filled with crates. But she whacked me and told me to go in, so I did. Took a crowbar to this crate, must have been eight feet tall, and I popped the side off.” Phil breathed deeply, shakily. “Filled to the top with clothes and bones. For a second they stayed packed in the crate; then they slid out around me. Bones up to my knees. I tried to run, but…” He wiped his lips. “…something grabbed my ankle. Something in that pile of corpses wasn’t dead.” Eric thought about all the bones he’d seen in the last fifty-five years, bones in cars, in broken down and rotted beds, in dumpsters, under overpasses. In the end, no one was around to pick them up. “People died. Their bones don’t mean anything. You must have panicked.”
“That’s what Mom said. She laughed, called me a scaredy-cat, but, I tell you, something is out there now. It’s ghosts. They’ve been searching and searching and now they’ve found me. This place, my mother’s temple, is all stolen stuff, stolen from those people.”
“Why don’t you leave?”
Phil shook his head and laughed. He took a couple of deep breaths, composing himself. “It’s Mom. I can’t leave Mom.” He patted the freezer.
“She’s in the freezer? She’s dead?” Eric stood and backed away.
“Oh, you can’t tell. I roll her every couple of weeks so she won’t freezer burn, but you can see why I have to stay. Sometimes I think that it’s her they’re after, not me; then I remember that pile of bones. I can feel that grip on my ankle. They know about me.”
Phil toured Eric through the rest of the building. The generator, he explained, was originally a part of Bandimere Raceway. So far from Denver, Bandimere had decided to rely on its own electrical generating capabilities rather than tie into the city’s system. His mom, after just about everyone died, had the foresight to scavenge Denver’s five main hospitals, each with its own generator. He used the parts to keep Bandimere’s generator operational. She also found enough Diesel to fuel the system. “I figure I can keep the lights on until I die,” Phil said when he slapped the side of a tanker truck parked in the garage. Littleton didn’t have a working diesel generator. Eric remembered the tedious, fractious town meetings years ago when the last one provided enough power to light a handful of houses. The town decided then to give up on generating power. He’d argued for expanded scavenging. “There are other ways to keep the electricity,” he’d said, but he was outvoted. Troy, in his first long speech to the council countered,
“What do we need electricity for anyway? What would serve us best is using the daylight more productively. Farm, hunt and fish during the day. Rest at night. These are values we should embrace.” Eric could see the natural politician his son was becoming, but he couldn’t help arguing. “We are entering a new Dark Ages, and you are leading the way!” That meeting marked the beginning of Eric and Troy’s political split. Eric called Troy’s followers the “New Barbarians,” and Troy called Eric’s camp the “Gone Timers.” Most of the “Gone Timers” lived before the plague and remembered what technology could do, but the passage of time dwindled their numbers. The New Barbarians, led by Troy, opposed almost all Eric’s suggestions. Eric often believed Troy took positions solely to spite him and not because he believed them.
Every door Phil opened revealed some remnant of technology. In the radio room, Phil turned on the short wave receiver and roamed through the bands. “Mom said she last heard someone on this the year I was born. I’ve never heard anything other than static or this.” Through the crackles and hiss of static came a steady beeping.
Eric listened intently. “I’d bet that’s a weather satellite.” Phil agreed then turned the system off. After an hour of other rooms, they came to the kitchen. On the stove simmered a large pot. “Beef stew,” said Phil. Eric peeked into the pot suspiciously.
“How old’s that meat?” he asked.
“I told you, I traded. This is three years old. Vacuum packed for freshness. I threw out the meat Mom stored ages ago. It was like shoe leather.” He ladled big spoonfuls into bowls. “We’d better get a meal up to the boys. Movie will be about over by now.”
Dodge dug into the stew eagerly, but had a hard time eating and talking at the same time. “The Gone Times were wonderful!” he said through a mouthful. “Floating cars, light sabres, star cruisers. Do you think Luke lived through the plague? I’ll bet he did. He hopped in the Millennium Falcon and got away when people started getting sick. I’ll bet he’s coming back for us.”
Rabbit sniffed his stew before tasting it. “None of it’s real, Dodge.” Dodge glanced angrily at him. “I know that. I’m not a baby. It’s make believe.” Eric wondered how much Dodge meant when he said, “It’s make believe.” Did he include airplanes?
Doctors? Everything he’d been telling him about the Gone Times? If it weren’t for Phil’s interest in Dodge, Eric would encourage him to stay, to see what technology could do.
Phil sat next to Dodge on the floor. “You’re right, though. Make believe is wonderful. I’ve probably got the best collection of tapes in Colorado. Hell, best in the world, and I’ve got the electricity and equipment to show them.” He put his hand on Dodge’s shoulder. Eric stiffened. “Would you like to see more?” Dodge said, “Sure!” Then he looked at Eric. “Maybe when we finish our trip, I can come back?”
“Maybe,” said Eric. He breathed easier.
“Well, at least you boys can get a decent shower and spend the night. When was the last time you had a hot shower?”
“We have running water,” said Rabbit. Eric guessed what had upset him earlier. He must have sensed that Phil wasn’t “safe.”
“Sounds great to me,” said Dodge. “Maybe we can see another video?” After they watched Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, Phil took them to a locker room with gang showers. The drag racers, he explained, used the lockers to change before their contests. He found towels for them, then said, “Have to shine up the cars. Mom insists.” He closed the door behind him. Rabbit said, “Let’s leave.” Eric turned on a spigot. In a few seconds, clouds of warm steam billowed off the tile floor. He wondered where Phil stored the water and how he heated it. Two days of grime decided the debate for him.
“I think we’ll be okay. I don’t think he’s dangerous.” Dodge looked from Rabbit to Eric, puzzled. “What do you mean? I like him.”