The next morning there were no eggs, so we just ate some cold beans and drank water. What I really wanted was some coffee. I warmed up some water and drank that, hoping to make myself feel better about it. We were down to our last tank of propane. We all took turns trying to feed the baby, but he wouldn’t eat anything.
We continued holding him, rubbing his arms and legs, and trying to get little bits of milk into his mouth. He latched on for the first time, but he wouldn’t suck or swallow. We started praying that Joey would return early, with some sort of a miracle.
The next morning the baby was almost comatose. He wouldn’t open his eyes and barely responded to anything we tried to do for him. My sister took the boys out earlier than normal; I don’t think she could stand to see him like this. Grandpa went to find some food, and my mom started going through stuff in the back of the cave, looking for something. I don’t think she knew what, just something that might help.
“Izzy, come here.” My mom called from the back of the cave. I quickly got up, sensing something in her voice. I carried Little Liam as I walked over to her.
She pulled back the tarp that covered Joey’s things, and I saw why she was concerned. He had taken everything. I stared for a minute, wondering if I should pretend like he was coming back. I heard the soft sniffling of my mom crying. I knew how she felt, but there was no reason for him to stay and watch us suffer. He could survive easily, without having to worry about all of us and our problems.
“Mom, he couldn’t handle it. You saw how he was watching Liam. It was probably best if he left. Maybe he can establish himself a bit, and…”
I didn’t get to finish my thought because just then, I felt something. I looked down at the baby, trying to see what had changed. I moved him closer and realized he had stopped breathing. I moved him around and patted his back, but nothing changed. My mom moved to my side, seeing my concern. She took him from me and started rubbing his arms and legs. It didn’t’ matter. Liam was gone.
Tears filled my eyes and I couldn’t even say anything. Deep inside, I knew all along that it was going to happen, but that didn’t make it any easier. I felt like my heart was squeezing out of my chest, looking at his helpless little body. We quietly wept together, not saying anything. I don’t think I could have formed words at that moment if I wanted to. Finally, we decided to quickly bury him, before Lisa and the boys got back.
We picked a little spot under a huge redwood tree, and marked it with a mound of branches and leaves. It was so deceivingly peaceful out here, the quiet calm of the forest belying the turmoil welling up inside. I felt like part of my heart was torn out as I laid his little body in the earth. It wasn’t right.
As soon as they returned, Seamus began asking about the baby. He was so sweet and I didn’t even know how I could tell him what had happened. Finally, I told him that the baby went to live in Heaven, because it was too hard for him to live here. He and Gaiden were very quiet the rest of the day. Gaiden was usually the talkative one, but I think he picked up on the general mood. I don’t know if they understood, but after a little bit of time, they both seemed to handle it well.
I tried to talk to Lisa, but she wouldn’t say anything. She cried most of the day and didn’t eat anything. I was growing concerned about the general health of everybody involved. It was hard to keep up an appetite when things like this were going on, but we all needed to keep up our strength.
Grandpa returned in the evening with even less than the day before. He simply nodded when we told him about Liam, as though he had expected it. I was a bit frustrated that he didn’t respond more than that.
I decided I should go out looking for food the next day. I needed a break and I could take the two boys. After all that had happened in the last few weeks I felt like they needed a distraction, too.
The next few days passed in a fog. Ian and my dad hadn’t returned on time, Christmas passed and all our plans fell through. My mom and I had explained to Lisa and grandpa that Joey wasn’t returning, and Lisa seemed to sink deeper into her depression. Even though Joey teased her when they were children, they had grown close over the last few years. She probably felt like he abandoned her. She might even wish he had taken her with him.
I caught a few fish, and the chickens laid a few eggs between them. Grandpa had continued his foraging and gardening, and we ate a few of the young garlics one night. In spite of all that happened I tried to be optimistic. Things were looking up a little bit.
After a full week Dad and Ian returned. Dad was so ill he could hardly walk, and it had taken them twice as long on the return. Ian was practically carrying him into the camp. We laid him down and got him warm. I made a soup out of some fish bones and we added herbs and roots to it. Dad was pale and coughing a lot. It was a horrible cough. Like nothing I had heard before, each time it sounded like he was choking.
Dad had always been thin, standing six feet tall he had a slender build, with salt and pepper, wavy hair. As long as I could remember he talked about the fact that he was going bald, even though I still couldn’t see a bald spot anywhere. He was cynical, and skeptic, and generally didn’t like people. He didn’t like Ian at first, but in the last few years it seemed they had grown very close.
Now he seemed strangely thin. He looked like a skeleton. His eyes were sunken in and his skin looked waxy, drawn tight against his skull. Ian didn’t seem extremely well, either, he told us that Dad had started coughing the day they left and the nights sleeping on the cold ground just seemed to make it worse. Ian had started coming down with something about halfway back, and wasn’t coughing, but seemed to be extremely wan and pale.
He almost didn’t notice two people were absent from our group. I quickly pulled him aside and explained about Joey and Liam. He didn’t respond, just continued staring with that hard look he had acquired over the last three months. He pulled me close and held me. I tried not to cry but I felt the tears coming. He stroked my hair and kissed my forehead. After a long time, he spoke. They hadn’t found anybody at the meeting place.
Dad coughed so much we could hardly rest that night. I found some Eucalyptus and tried to cook some of the leaves to help his breathing, but it didn’t make a bit of difference. His coughing and wheezing fits got so bad he couldn’t even eat. Every breath sounded like it required extreme effort.
Every time he coughed the boys stared with wide eyes. They knew something was wrong. He never did notice Joey and Liam were gone. He didn’t respond when we asked him things, and finally, two nights later he choked and coughed for almost two hours before he finally breathed his last. He had never even spoken a word to us since his return. My mom had spent those two days in fear. She alternated between crying and staring, and after his death I grew concerned for her. The next morning I showed Ian where our little plot was, and we put my dad into the ground.
My mom didn’t speak during his burial. She stood there, quietly, not even crying. Lisa, on the other hand, was hysterical. She sobbed and wailed, talking unintelligibly. If somebody touched her or spoke to her she cowed away, renewing her crying and muttering. Oddly, I was more concerned for my mom. She barely answered when we spoke to her, and she spent the next few days doing little else besides staring.
After things had settled down a bit, Ian told us that he suspected the flyovers were drones. He thought they were probably just decoys to keep people in fear, so we decided to test it out. I wanted to go with him, but I was worried to leave my mom and Lisa alone. I talked with Ian loudly about wanting to go, but needing to do laundry. My mom came out of her reverie a bit and offered to do the laundry. That made me feel a bit better.