Commodity

  “Never,” I say, turning to meet his lips while holding in my giggles. “I understand now.”

  “You’ll never fully understand the power of the woobie,” he says with a shake of his head, “but you have a better idea now.”

  His eyes glisten with humor, but I can still see something deeper inside them. I’m not sure if he’s remembering something from long ago or not. I reach out and touch the side of his face, stroking my fingers across his stubbled jaw. Falk drops his gaze and moistens his lips with his tongue.

  “All that shit I said before…about how those guys think of you…I’m not going to let that happen.”

  I nod, wanting to believe him, but I must not be very convincing. He cups my chin and brings his lips to mine briefly.

  “I mean it. I won’t let them touch you.”

  “I know you won’t.” I believe the words as I say them, but I also know he can’t protect me from everything. “I think you probably ought to take me out for more shooting lessons though.”

  “I will,” he promises. “You should probably start carrying a gun on you.”

  I take a deep breath and let it out again. If I were to be armed, he would definitely feel better about it.

  “Your life would be a lot easier if you didn’t have me to worry about,” I say.

  “Maybe.” He shrugs. “It wouldn’t be quite as interesting though.”

  “I bet you wish you never took this job.”

  “On the contrary,” Falk says, “this job has probably saved me.”

  *****

  “There just isn’t anything of value left there.”

  Falk sighs and fiddles with the unlit cigarette in his hand as Caesar pokes at his notepad with the back end of his pen.

  “We’re low on D-cell batteries, coffee, and canned food in general. We need more paper products as well. We’ve completely cleaned out the nearest stores of all those things.”

  “We’re going to have to trek farther,” Falk says. “Avondale has a Wal-Mart. We should start there. It’s only a few miles.”

  “We should take a larger group,” Caesar says. “We need as many people as possible to bring back more supplies.”

  “Where the fuck is the engineer?” Chuck mutters.

  “What engineer?” Caesar asks, turning to him.

  “In every zombie movie I’ve ever seen, there was always one dude who was a brainiac. He’d be working on some solar powered car or something by now. Where the hell is that guy in this group?”

  “I guess we’re not that lucky,” Falk says. “You do make a good point though. Emory might have solar cells that survived the destruction, and it would be worth the hassle of bringing them back if we could get them to work.”

  “We should search through the Emory area more,” Caesar agrees. “Beck spoke about that at one point. Said there were a lot of things that could help us out there—if they’re still operable.”

  Everyone is quiet for a moment at the mention of Beck’s name.

  “Better transportation is something we should be working on,” Falk finally says to end the silence. “I don’t have any engineering experience though. We should think about other ways to mod the bicycles. There are also plenty of shopping carts to carry things back, but with either one of those, you still have to rely on human power.”

  “What if we worked out some kind of rail system?” Marco suggests. “Something that goes back and forth between the stores?”

  “Too temporary,” Falk says. “As soon as that store is emptied, the rail would be useless. That would be very labor intensive, too.”

  “If there were still horses around, we could use them,” Sam pipes up.

  “But there aren’t,” Marco snaps back at him, “so stop making stupid suggestions!”

  “Hey! I’m the one that figured out where to dig the well!” Sam yells back at his brother.

  “Enough.” Caesar stands and stretches his back. “It’s getting later as we go on about it. Let’s at least start heading to that Wal-Mart and discuss other options on the way.”

  “Who’s going and who’s staying?” Chuck asks.

  “Everyone who can go should,” Caesar says. “If Christine and Hannah can stay behind and keep everything going here, the rest of us should go.”

  “We’ll just hang out and do dishes, right?” I roll my eyes.

  “I’m not leaving them here unprotected,” Falk says. There is no room for argument in his tone. “I’ll stay. I want to keep working on the well since fresh water is going to become our first major problem. If I can make decent progress today, we should be able to get it working by the end of the week.”

  Brett mumbles something under his breath, and Falk shoots him a sharp look.

  “You have something to say to me?” Falk asks. His voice sounds calm, but I know better.

  “Brett, you’re coming with me,” Caesar says, effectively ending the conversation. “Falk can stay and make sure nothing happens here. Wayne can stay as well since he knows more about wells than anyone else.”

  “Suits me,” Wayne replies. “In case you were actually going to ask.”

  “I know you don’t travel well,” Caesar says gently. “I still can’t believe you made it all the way to us.”

  “Didn’t have much choice at the time.” Wayne glances over at Falk. “Not sure it was a wise choice though.”

  Falk doesn’t acknowledge the look. It’s clear that Wayne isn’t too happy with Falk since his run-in with Brett last night. Owen and Brian seem to share the same feelings though I can’t really blame them. One thing is for sure—Falk’s plan worked. Brett hasn’t come near me all day, and most of the others are keeping their distance.

  I’m glad for it, too. I’ve thought a lot about what Falk said, and I can’t deny that it makes sense. Without any kind of social order, people are going to argue over fulfilling their basic needs. I’m far more aware of how the men look at me today, and I can’t help but wonder exactly what they are thinking.

  I’m afraid I know.

  As the others head off in search of supplies, Falk continues working on the well. Wayne is far off to the side of the common area, not far from the well, though he doesn’t offer to help Falk. He’s got a long coil of rope that he’s been knotting to use with the well’s bucket.

  The day goes by, and the temperature rises. Falk’s been working on the well non-stop, so I pour a large cup of water to take to him. As I walk up to the hole, Falk is climbing out of it, covered in mud.

  “How’s it coming along?” I ask.

  “Getting there,” he says. “The bottom is full of water, at least.”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “At least it’s fresh and clean.”

  Falk tosses his hair out of his eyes, but it falls right back over his forehead. He pushes it away with his hand, obviously annoyed.

  “Your hair is getting long,” I say.

  “It’s driving me nuts.” He pushes it away again. “I need to do something with it.”

  “Want me to cut it for you?”

  “All I’ve got are those electric trimmers,” Falk says.

  “Christine has hair scissors,” I tell him. “I can get those from her.”

  “You know how to use those?”

  “I’ve been known to cut hair every once in a while.” I smile at him.

  He looks up at me, runs his hand over the top of his head, and nods.

  “Yeah. All right. I need a break anyway.”

  Falk gets situated by the cooking fire, and I borrow Christine’s scissors. Falk’s hair really isn’t all that long, but when I first met him, it had been very closely cut in standard military fashion. I’ve never attempted to do a flattop before, and I’m not sure if I can without trimmers, but I’m willing to give it a shot.

  I smooth out the towel around his shoulders and go to work. The top is easy enough to get to the right length and doesn’t take long. The back and sides are a little harder to get even, but it turns out pretty well
by the time I’m done. I run my hand up the back of his head. It feels like a puppy’s fur.

  “Having fun?” Falk peers up at me with a half grin.

  “I like the way it feels,” I say with a shrug. “I’m all done. Want to take a look?”

  He holds up the hand mirror and turns his head back and forth.

  “Pretty good job,” he says. “Should I tip you?”

  “You can tip me later,” I say with a wink.

  His eyes go dark and he licks his lips.

  “I’ll make note of that,” he says softly.

  I reach out once more, stroking my fingers through the short hair at the side of his head. He leans into my hand for a moment before pressing his lips to my palm.

  “I should get back to work.” He stands and takes the towel from his shoulders. “Hopefully, they’re going to bring back a lot of water jugs, but we’re still going to need this, especially when it gets cold.”

  Falk goes back to the well, and I go back to the apartment to gather up trash and burn it in the fire. It’s nearly nightfall before everyone else returns, armed with grocery carts full of supplies. They have a good load, water included, but they cleaned out the place in one trip.

  “We’re going to have to venture farther for the next run,” Caesar informs us. “One way or another, we’re going to need better transportation.”

  “I ran up to the university while they went shopping,” Brett says. “I did find what I think are solar cells, at least as far as I can tell. I’m not sure exactly how to use them, but maybe we can figure it out.”

  “There have to be some kind of diagrams or instructions, maybe in the library.”

  “I’m not even sure I could figure out where the library used to be,” Brett says.

  “I also doubt the card catalog will be a whole lot of use,” Wayne says.

  “Do they even have those anymore?” Caesar asks.

  “What the fuck is a card catalog?” Brian asks with a shake of his head.

  Everyone starts to take items out of the carts to get them distributed. I notice how well everyone in our small group seems to share what’s been found, and I wonder how long that will continue. Will everyone be just as friendly with one another when the supplies run low?

  Christine starts sorting through the canned goods while I organize the paper towels, napkins, paper plates, and toilet paper in the shed. I’m glad to see plenty of toilet paper was found since that is one thing I really don’t want to run out of.

  “Gonna run this stuff over by the fire,” Christine says as she heads off.

  I see a flash of light, calling my attention to Falk, who must have found a fresh supply of cigarettes. He leans against a nearby tree, smoking and watching me. The mud from his earlier work on the well is gone, and he looks freshly shaven, too. The sight of him sends tingles down my spine.

  I lick my lips, remembering that all I have to do is give him a sign—any sign—and he is going to take me back to that apartment. The thought heats my skin and causes my thighs to clench.

  I continue loading paper products into the shed, placing the things I always seem to need on the lower shelves so I don’t have to drag out the stool. After unloading the last of the supplies, I step out and lean against the shed for a moment, staring into the night sky.

  It’s peaceful and quiet. I close my eyes and breathe in the night air, wondering how long it stays warm in Atlanta in the fall. By now, Chicago would have had its first dusting of snow, but it’s quite warm and pleasant here.

  As I open my eyes, a flash of bright light catches my eye. At first, I think it’s Falk lighting another cigarette, causing some strange reflection up in the trees, but I quickly see that it’s not.

  “Falk!”

  “What is it?” He heads in my direction.

  “Do you see that?” I point up in the sky.

  The light is brighter now, and it moves slowly across the sky. My heart beats faster as I wonder what it is. If it’s a plane, that means someone is out there, rebuilding our lives. It could mean that everyone has been wrong this whole time, and the problems were isolated to this area.

  Everyone else starts to gather around, shielding their eyes from the firelight and staring up into the sky.

  The light suddenly turns and brightens in the sky. It looms closer, appears to grow larger, and a strange, hexagon-shaped craft suddenly glows bright orange before it zooms off to the north.

  I feel my stomach drop as my breath catches in my throat. The craft continues to glow and pulse rapidly until it disappears into the night sky. Falk’s arm slips around my waist right before my knees almost give out on me. He pulls me close to his side and keeps me from falling as he whispers in my ear.

  “Do you still doubt me?”

  Chapter 11

  For the next several minutes, we all stare into the sky as similar lights appear. There isn’t a pattern, and there is never more than one light in the sky at a time, but there is no longer any question about what we are facing. Falk has been right all along. We’ve been invaded by something extraterrestrial.

  There is no sound accompanying the lights—only the occasional change in color from amber to bright orange as the craft shifts direction. As we all stand there, dumbfounded, one of the lights glows brightly and moves closer.

  I can see it better now. The shape isn’t quite a hexagon—it’s longer on two of the sides with a point in the front. There’s something jutting out from the back of it, but I can’t guess what it might be. As it descends, I can see where the bright glow comes from two long strips of light running along the longer sides.

  “Get the fire out!” Falk suddenly screams. He rushes from my side, grabs the huge pot of stew Christine had made for dinner, and dumps it over the burning logs. “Get it out completely! Hurry, goddammit!”

  Everyone runs for water, pouring what we can find nearby over the flames. Falk runs off in the direction of the well and returns with the garden cart full of dirt from the hole and dumps it over the flames. Most of them die off, and we’re able to put out the rest with the water.

  “Get near the buildings!” Falk yells at everyone. “Out of sight, and don’t move! Turn off your damn lanterns!”

  He grabs me by the waist and pulls me over to the side of the shed. We drop to the ground and he wraps his arms around me.

  “Don’t move,” he whispers into my ear. “Don’t move at all. We don’t know what kind of sensors they have.”

  I try to control my panting breaths, and Falk keeps shushing me in my ear. I’m not sure if he’s trying to keep me quiet or keep me calm.

  The craft looms over us, moving slowly. It’s clearly visible now and simply huge. I have no idea exactly how large, but I don’t think it could land in our common area. It looks to be as big as a football field. As it gets closer, I can hear a rhythmic humming sound, but it’s at such a low register, I feel it more than hear it.

  “What is it?” I whisper. I tighten my fingers around Falk’s wrists where they’re linked in front of my stomach.

  “Shh.” Falk tightens his grip on me. “I don’t know.”

  The craft spins in a slow circle and then lifts higher as it glows bright enough to hurt my eyes. Far above the trees, it turns again and moves off to the north—the same direction as the others.

  Falk let’s out a long breath.

  “Are they gone?”

  “For now, I think.” He doesn’t let go of me. “Let’s wait a while longer though.”

  We all remain still and quiet for several minutes. When nothing happens, we all slowly stand and come together near the drenched and muddy fire pit.

  “What the fuck?” Brett hisses through his teeth.

  “I know this is what we talked about,” Caesar says, “but damn. That was…”

  “Fucking insane.” Chuck reaches out and pulls Christine against his chest. He leans his head on top of hers, and the red tip of his Van Dyke gets wrapped up in one of her curls.

  Everyone starts asking
the unanswerable questions all at once.

  “Why haven’t we seen them before?”

  “Where did they come from?”

  “Do you think they’re looking for survivors?”

  “No way to know for sure,” Caesar says, “but it’s as good a guess as any.”

  “We’re going to have to watch the fires and lanterns,” Falk says. “Lights will definitely make it obvious that there are people here.”

  “That’s going to be a problem when it gets cold.” Wayne leans against a nearby tree and stares at the mess in the fire pit.

  “We’ll have to worry about that when the time comes,” Falk responds. “We have shelter. That will have to be enough.”

  “What about cooking?” Christine asks. “I can’t cook for so many on the small stoves.”

  “We’ll work that out, too,” Falk says. “You won’t need to cook anymore if we’re all dead.”

  There’s more talk of how we are going to get along without light at night and the heat from the fire. There are a lot more questions about the craft and what it means, but there are no answers. Hours pass, and people start heading to their own abodes.

  “Frustrating,” Falk mutters as Caesar walks toward his own apartment.

  “What is?” I ask.

  “Having some level of confirmation is good,” he says, pointing his thumb toward the sky, “but it doesn’t exactly make me feel any better. I don’t have a face for my enemy.”

  “What would you do if one of them was standing in front of you?”

  “Get a really, really good look at it,” Falk says, “and then blow its fucking face off.”

  “Really?”

  “They’ve already attacked us, Hannah. I wouldn’t exactly show them any mercy.”

  What he says makes sense, but I’m not used to thinking of violence as the first course of action. Couldn’t it all be some misunderstanding? Maybe they—whoever they are—didn’t mean to do what they did. Maybe they were peaceful, and it was all a mistake.

  They took the women and children.

  I shudder and wrap my arms around myself as I stare back up into the sky. There haven’t been any more sightings, but I wonder if they are up there anyway, just too far away to see.