Read Online The Last Tribe by Brad Manuel - Free Book Online Page B

I would sneak up there and watch.  Guards were
posted, but they weren’t paying attention.  The military was moving people and
equipment and supplies.  I have no idea where.  After the first week, there
were less and less soldiers, less planes.  Then there weren’t many planes
landing.  I hid in our house.  My parents went to the neighbor’s house to die. 
They wanted to make sure I had a clean place, no dead bodies to deal with.  I stayed
there until the gas ran out in the fireplace.  Oops, great planning, huh?  Gas
fireplace?”  Rebecca laughed.  Greg smiled.  He loved hearing her story.  He
enjoyed the sound of another voice.
    “I knew they built this subdivision
pretty close to us, and there was a model home with a fireplace, a wood burning
one, not gas like ours.  I moved supplies over here, took wood from other
houses, and I moved.  I kept waiting for someone to show up, even a bad person
or the government, I didn’t care at this point.  You know?  I just wanted to
see and talk to someone.”
    Greg continued to nod.  “Yeah, I
know.  I walked off the highway and smelled the fire, and thought the same
thing.  I had to see another person, even with the risks.  I didn’t want to be
alone anymore.”  He felt light headed, weak from his journey, and he swayed
slightly from side to side as if he was about to blackout. 
    Rebecca sat on the couch while Greg
was on the hearth warming his bones and finishing the soup.  She got up and sat
next to him, giving him another hug.  She began to cry again.  Greg was not an
emotional person, but this time, unlike the first time she hugged him, he
hugged her back tightly.
    Rebecca felt Greg’s ribs under his
thick fleece pullover.  He was a skeleton.  His clothes were filthy, and he was
soaking wet.  She could feel him shivering.  She saw the color drained from his
face.
    “You have to get out of these clothes.” 
She announced.  “I don’t know how you aren’t sick as a dog.  How long have you
been walking in the cold and rain?”
    Greg had to think about his trip
before answering.  He was a zombie.  “A week, I think.  I can’t remember.”  He
began to cry.  “I don’t know.  Oh my god, I don’t know.  A week?  I can’t get
there.  I keep walking, and I can’t get anywhere.  I have cat food in my
backpack.  I almost ate cat food.”  Greg’s composure was gone.
    Rebecca stood.  “Take off your clothes. 
You need a bath, and some clean, dry pajamas.  I don’t think you have a fever,
but you need to rest.  I’ll drag another couch in from the other room.” She
picked up the soup pot and poured water into it from a nearby bottle. 
    “Get out of those clothes.”  She
said to him again.  “Don’t be bashful.  Stay by the fire.  I’m going to get
some dry pj’s for you.”  She hung the water pot over the fire before heading
upstairs.
    Greg pulled off his fleece, folding
it neatly on the hearth just behind where he sat.  His fingers were clumsy,
nearly useless.  He was more exhausted and feeble than he realized. 
    Rebecca came back downstairs
holding an armful of linen, pajamas, a robe, and a set of slippers.  She
dropped them in front of Greg.  A towel sat on top of the pile.
    “I’m going into the other room. 
Call me when you are changed.”  She looked at the water over the fire.  It was
forming bubbles, but not at a boil.  “Try and hurry.  I’m making you more
food.  You feel like a skeleton.  Also, it’s cold in the other room.  I don’t
want to be in there long.”
    The young woman went around the
corner into the dark.  “I’m waiting.”  She called, as if she knew Greg was
still sitting on the hearth and not getting dressed.
    He shook his head to clear some of
the cobwebs that were forming, took off his clothes, and dried himself with the
plush towel.  He pulled on the clean pajamas, wrapped up in the robe, and
slipped the fuzzy shoes onto his feet.  “Okay.”  He