“Oh, the usual cliched kinda stuff. Write a book. Jump out of a plane—”
“I never knew you wanted to go sky-diving,” Tom interrupted.
“What? Really? Oh. There you go, still learning stuff about each other,” Claire said and leaned up to kiss him.
“What else was on your pre-asteroid bucket list?” Tom asked.
“Let’s see. I wanted to go to Antarctica. You knew that one.” Tom nodded. “And, I wanted to own my own tropical island. Live in the south of France for a year. And also I wanted a pet pig.”
“A pet pig?” Tom half laughed.
“Yeah. I would call it Ferdinand. Or maybe Napoleon. Napoleon the pig.”
“Mmm, I bet he would have been tasty.” Claire hit him.
“No, note that I said ‘pet pig’. No eating Napoleon! I grew up with Dad butchering enough of my pigs. It was my job to feed them, and I was terrible at it. I always fell in love with them and was so upset when they’d turn into bacon. Dad never got it. Neither did Mum, really. They always thought the whole vegetarian thing was a phase.”
“You eat meat sometimes,” Tom said, thinking back to a particularly nice steak dinner they’d had for his birthday last year.
“Like once every two years or so. I admit it, I’m weak. Enough of that, what about your bucket list?”
Tom shrugged. “I dunno. I got the girl I wanted.” He kissed the top of her head. “We got married. Had a couple of kids. Bought a house.”
“That’s very domestic of you, Thomas.” Claire entwined her fingers through his.
“What can I say, I’m a domesticated man.”
Claire laughed softly. He’d always loved her laugh.
“When I was coming back to you, when I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get to see you and the boys again…” Claire squeezed his fingers. “I had a lot of time to think. You, Noah and Tristan are what’s important to me. And Mom and Lisa and Molly, and Uncle Jim. Family. I just want to spend every last moment with you. I don’t care about jumping out of planes or seeing the pyramids or anything like that. I just want to be surrounded by the people I love.”
“Me too. I love you, Tom,” Claire said quietly. Tom looked down at her. Tears were running down her cheeks. He reached up and wiped them away with his thumb.
“What are we going to do for the next two months?” Claire half-sobbed.
Tom was silent for a minute, thinking. His eyes caught on a picture of Noah, Tristan and Molly that was taken a few months ago at Molly’s thirteenth birthday dinner. He hadn’t spared much thought for his niece, other than general concern. Poor kid. She was old enough to know what was going on. At least his boys were too young to be scared.
“We’ll make these months count. Every single day. If it is the… the…” he faltered, finding it hard to say, somehow, here in his own home with his sleeping sons upstairs. He cleared his throat. “If it is the end, then I want it do be the best two months of the kids lives. Molly too. And you.”
Claire smiled wanly at him. He held her tighter.
Tom barely slept once they finally went to bed, and by the way Claire was tossing and turning next to him, he didn’t think she did either.
“I’ll call Mum and Dad. You can say hi to them,” Claire said to him while she was pulling on her jeans and a bright red sweater after obviously giving up on sleep. It was still dark outside. Tom nodded and stayed in bed under the warm duvet. Claire came back with her laptop and climbed back on the bed with him. She opened Skype and tried to call.
“Shit. It’s not working.”
Tom looked more closely at the computer.
“Try and load another page,” he suggested.
Biting her lip, Claire attempted to open up a news website, but the connection timed out. Again, and again she tried different websites but none of them loaded. Frowning, she reached for her cell phone. Tom held his breath as she dialled her family back in Australia, praying that she would get through.
“Shit, shit, shit.” Claire threw the phone away from her.
“Hey, hey, deep breaths.” Tom reached out and rubbed her back. She was starting to hyperventilate.
“What if I can’t, what if it won’t work? Tom? What if I can’t speak to them again?”
“Don’t jump to conclusions just yet, baby.” He wrapped her up in his arms, and she crumpled against him. “We’ll try again before we leave. The ‘net might just be down temporarily.”
“But the phone wasn’t working either,” she said, high-pitched.
“It’s okay, you’ll speak to them again,” Tom said.
“You don’t know that,” Claire whispered.
They lingered over breakfast. Tom made his family french toast. Noah gobbled his up, while Tristan made a mess of his, but Claire just picked at hers. She looked on the verge of tears a few times. Tom wanted to cheer her up, but couldn’t think how.
Noah trailed after them as they went around the house, piling everything they wanted to take in the hallway. It was hard to know what they’d need or want in 4 or 5 weeks, or even 4 or 5 months, when Tom let himself hope that they’d still be alive in 4 or 5 months. Tom started packing up the car and trailer that Claire had borrowed from their elderly neighbour, first with all of the supplies that Claire had bought, and then with more sentimental items from around the house.
It took about ten minutes to get Lancelot into the cat carrier. Scratched and frustrated, Tom was almost tempted to give up and leave the damn cat here to fend for himself, but the look on Claire’s face stopped him from saying it out loud.
At last they were all packed. There were more things that they’d both like to take, but they were out of room. Together, they did a final walk around their house. Tom held Noah on his hip, Claire carried Tristan, and they clung to each other’s spare hand.
Claire tried once more to contact her family, but the internet was still down and she couldn’t get through on the phone. Tom watched her carefully. She took a deep breath and collected herself.
“Uncle Jim’s still got a landline. That might work,” he said to her, trying to be reassuring. She smiled at him and nodded.
“Yeah. That might work,” she echoed.
“Are you ready?” Tom asked.
“No,” Claire sighed, looking around. “But let’s go.”
He kissed her on the forehead.
They somehow managed to buckle the boys into the car, in amongst the pillows, blankets, and supplies. Claire bit back a sob as he started reversing out of the driveway. He reached over and squeezed her hand.
Tom glanced back in the rearview mirror at the end of the street for a last glimpse of his house, wondering if he’d ever be back. He changed his focus to Tristan and Noah in the back seat, and then glanced over at Claire. They were what was important, not a house. Home could be anywhere, as long as they were together. He just needed to keep them safe, and get through the next two months, and hopefully see the other side.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I couldn’t have done this without the support of my partner Keenan, and my family. Extra big thanks to Linda, Robin and Katie for your eyes and expertise.
BOOKS BY R.M. ALLINSON
The Last Days Series:
ABOUT THE AUTHOR