Winston sidled up to the fence and whispered, “Ben, you still with me?”
A despondent smile came across Ben’s face as he breathed, “I was dreamin’ we was all tastin’ the Mayor’s barbecue chicken again. We was under Medusa in all her glory. Kids was swingin’ into the lake. June was there, too. My sweet June. We was all young and had nothin’ to fear, Winston. We had nothin’ to fear.” Ben choked up.
The other five men stumbled into view, and Winston tossed five apples into the cell. The men said nothing, each taking the fruit back into the dark recesses of the cell to quickly consume them.
“Ben, I got something for you. Hold out your hand.”
Winston dug into his pants pocket and pulled out a handful of beechnuts. Ben mustered what strength he had and cupped his hands against the chain-link fence. Winston poured the beechnuts into Ben’s hungry hands.
“You shelled these for me, Winston?”
“Indeed, I did.”
With one swift motion, Ben pressed his palms to his lips with trembling hands and guided the nuts into his mouth. Most of them made it inside, and he mawed gleefully on them. While he chewed, Winston, once again, bit an apple into chunks and pushed them through the fence. He was a mother bird feeding his chick.
“I’m gonna miss May’s beechnut pie this Christmas.”
Winston wanted to say something positive, like we’ll have pie, ol’ Ben, but he just couldn’t give the old man false hope. Not after what he had seen up in Morrow and in Johnsonville.
“Jes’ been up to Morrow,” Winston whispered, “it’s the same there as it is here in Johnsonville. Everybody dead, Ben, the enemy occupyin’ the entire area.”
“They ain’t all dead, Winston.”
“No? I ain’t seen a single livin’ soul while I been out here.”
“I see ‘em all day and night walking through that apple orchard in a daze like they was zombies.”
“Who?”
“People. I seen George Calef and his family out there jes’ today. Teddy Johnson and Med Willis, too. And others. You ain’t seen ‘em, Winston?”
Winston realized that Teddy Johnson was one of the men in the cell with Ben. He hadn’t recognized Teddy until Ben mentioned his name just then. It appeared as if Ben’s mind, like May’s, was failing. Ol’ Ben had an excuse — he was an old man — but May’s mind had always been as sharp as a tack. What frightened Winston the most was the swiftness that it seemed to have happened. He promised himself to engage with her more often, like when they played Uno. He pushed the remaining chunks of apple through the fence along with the pit.
“No,” said Winston, “I’ll keep an eye out for ‘em though. I did see Jimmy Mabry the other day…”
“Me too! Said he got a lead on a safe place ta stay. Maybe some food that he was gonna share with us. Ain’t seen him in a few days, now. Probably got caught, the poor bastard.”
Winston tried not to regret the decision he had made regarding Jimmy — and the life that it ultimately cost, and said, “I gotta get back before I get caught.”
“Where? You an’ May up in your house still?”
“I can’t say, Ben. I just can’t say. I’m sorry. It’s for everybody’s protection.”
“I understand. Thank you, Winston. God be with you.”
“Stay strong, Ben. This all ends soon.”
“But does it?”
Winston stood erect, “yeah, it does.”
Winston bolted back through the orchard and skirted the edge of the woods. He paused momentarily at the road, carefully looking both ways, and crossed it quickly. He paused once again under the overpass, removed one of the three apples from the orchard, and placed it on the ledge at the closest side of the overpass to the trash pile, along with a handful of beechnuts. He collected the three hidden water jugs and Twinkie, and hurried through the woods back to the edge of his property. He found the stepstool where he had left it, made sure all was clear, crossed the fence, and made it back inside the barn without a sound, only stopping briefly to examine the large crate that now resided inside the barn. His heart pounded as he scratched a finger across the door, not knowing if May would respond to the summons. Luckily for both of them, she heard him and opened the door. He set the water and gun down and collapsed onto the bed, his body completely fatigued, the adrenaline and rush of being in such danger causing him to crash physically and emotionally. He pulled out the two remaining apples and Twinkie, set them on the bed, and turned his pockets inside out and let the beechnuts fall haphazardly onto the blanket. A single tea light flickered in the furthest corner of the apartment behind the shower curtain, barely illuminating the space. It was all just enough.
“I brought these for you,” Winston said, his eyes gazing up at the barn’s high ceiling.
May collected the beechnuts and tossed them into her mouth one after the other.
“I was worried sick about you. Is everything okay out there?”
“No. What’s in the crate?”
“I don’t know, but they kept me up all day maneuvering that thing inside.”
She picked up the Twinkie and held it up as evidence.
“Where’d you find this gem?”
“That’s for you, too. My new friend, Woo-jin, gave it to me.”
“The enemy man? You seen him again?”
“Yes. And we spoke. He seems like a good kid. Scared.”
“Winston Sparrow, that don’t make no sense you speakin’ nicely ‘bout some Kraut invaded this country. He gon’ shoot you ‘tween the eyes next time you seen ’im.”
“Keep that high yeller attitude to yourself, May, and keep yo’ voice down. And they ain’t Krauts — not a damned one a them. He’s Korean.”
“North Korean.”
May tossed down the Twinkie, “well you can have it,” and finished off the beechnuts, tossing them angrily into her mouth.
If Winston had any energy left in his body, he would have wept right there and then. Or told May about Morrow or come clean about the POWs being held at Calef’s. Or sleeping under the overpass. Instead, he rifled through their provisions searching for something to eat. He was famished. To his horror, little food remained. Assuming it was a mistake, and that May must have moved the provisions around, Winston checked the area where they kept the emptied cans and trash to discover that while he had been outside, May ate through their rations — including his beloved Franco-American Spaghetti-Os. He tried not to overreact.
“You eat my Franco? And the green beans?”
May looked over at him sheepishly and said, “I been famished, Winston. It’s just not enough calories. I’m sorry.”
Winston sighed loudly, but couldn’t become enraged with her. He’d been hungry too, so he knew what it felt like to be forced onto a starvation diet. Not to mention that he’d been spending time outside while she’d been cooped up in the apartment with little else to do but listen to her stomach rumble. All that remained were a few cans of chunk light tuna that was only in their pantry as an occasional treat for Amadeus, two cans of creamed corn, and other assorted pantry goods: a box of granola bars, a jar of May’s homemade muesli (gross), four cans of whole tomatoes, and three cans of black beans. That was all of it, not counting the bag of cat food propped up in the corner.
“Don’ be sorry,” Winston smiled, as he pulled the top off a can of black beans and dumped them into a plastic bowl, “I got vegetarian chili.” He opened a can of whole tomatoes and dished them on top of the black beans, stirred, and took his place next to May. She munched loudly on the apple and he ate the “chili.”
“Needs a little chili powder — and salt, pepper, cumin. Some beef would be nice. Couple a bay leaves. Onions an’ peppers.”