Commodity

  I hold the baby while Christine takes a sponge and cleans him off, but he keeps crying no matter what I do. Once the afterbirth has been delivered, Katrina gets Hannah onto the bed and propped up with a bunch of pillows.

  “I already suck at this,” I tell her.

  “It’s okay,” Christine says. “You just need a little practice to get used to it.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to this,” I admit.

  “You will.” She sounds so confident, so sure of her words.

  I just shake my head.

  Christine takes the baby back from me, and he quiets almost immediately. She lays him on a pillow draped over Hanna’s stomach, and he immediately goes right for her breast. I push myself to my feet and stand beside the bed. All I can do is stare at the two of them while Marco, Sam, and Christine start cleaning up the rest of the room.

  “It’s good to get him nursing right away,” Katrina says. “I read that.”

  It takes several tries, but eventually the baby gets a good grip. Hannah winces a little when he latches on, but then they both settle down. I slowly sit on the edge of the bed, and Hannah smiles up at me.

  “Come over here,” she says, nodding to the spot next to her.

  I scoot up next to them both, and Hannah leans over and kisses my cheek.

  “Well,” she asks, “what do you think?”

  “I don’t know.” It’s the only phrase I seem to be able to utter.

  “Are you okay?” Marco asks.

  I just shake my head.

  “Daddy’s a little overwhelmed, I think.” Hannah giggles. She reaches over and wipes tears off my cheek.

  I didn’t realize they were there.

  Daddy.

  “Come on, all of you.” Christine puts a hand on Marco’s shoulder. “Everyone out. Let’s leave the family in peace for a while.”

  “Just yell if you need anything,” Katrina adds, and they all walk out, closing the bedroom door behind them.

  Grateful for the sudden serenity, I press my forehead to Hannah’s shoulder and look down at the baby. His eyes are open, and he sucks furiously at Hannah’s breast. He looks so serious about the whole thing, and I can’t help but smile.

  Yeah, bud—I like them, too.

  “Chuck is a nickname for Charles, isn’t it?” Hannah turns her head and nuzzles her chin in my hair.

  “I think so.”

  “So…can we name him that? Charles?”

  Pressing my lips together, I fight against the memory of the image of Chuck lying dead behind the truck. Instead, I focus on remembering the look on his face when he’d show up at camp with some rodent on the end of an arrow, begging Christine to cook it.

  “Yeah,” I finally say. “I think Charles is perfect.”

  Little Charles closes his eyes and his sucking motions slow and finally stop. Hannah strokes the top of his head gently, careful of the soft spot.

  “Does all this scare you?” she asks.

  I look from her to the tiny, new human being in her arms.

  “Hannah,” I say seriously, “I’ve had insurgents surround me and start throwing grenades. I’ve had IEDs go off and kill the guy next to me. I’ve had dozens of assholes chasing me while trying to get you to safety, and I’ve shot at an alien.”

  I turn my head so I can look her right in the eyes.

  “This scares the ever-loving shit out of me.”

  Hannah tries to hold in her giggles so she doesn’t shake little Charles awake. I reach over and stroke his cheek. He’s lost his grip on her nipple, but as soon as he feels my touch, he starts making little sucking motions with his mouth.

  “Thank you, Hannah,” I whisper.

  “For what?” she asks.

  “For giving my life purpose again.”

  Epilogue

  I’m awake but only barely.

  The bed is warm and comfortable. My arm is wrapped around my wife and son, who both sleep peacefully. It’s Sunday. It’s still early, and I’d promised Hannah she could sleep late this morning.

  She wants everything to be normal, and apparently, that means sleeping in on Sundays.

  Charles is not always cooperative, so occasionally I open my eyes just to check on him for a moment, but I soon close them again when I see he’s still sleeping. Once he wakes, I’ll get him up and give Hannah another hour or two to rest.

  My mind recounts the events of the previous day.

  “Do you, Falk Eckhart, take this woman to be your wife?”

  I glance sideways at Hannah before answering. She’s giving me the stink-eye, and I have to admit that I like to rile her up.

  “Yeah, sure,” I finally say, and she elbows me in the ribs.

  “Say it right!”

  “Marco’s not a priest! What difference does it make?”

  “Falk!” She purses her lips and glares as I let out a long sigh.

  “I do.”

  “You may kiss the bride!” Marco announces with a big grin. “Slip her some tongue!”

  Katrina giggles, and as I place my lips on Hannah’s, everyone cheers except Charles, who starts to cry instead.

  I smile at the memory. It hadn’t been my idea, but I was okay with it. It made Hannah happy. Next to keeping her and Charles safe, that is my primary function. I even danced while Marco wasted battery life playing some music he’d found in a storage unit. It felt like tenth grade all over again—my dancing skills haven’t changed much since then—but Hannah smiled when I twirled her around and laughed when I nearly fell on my ass in the attempt.

  Movement next to me causes me to open my eyes again. Charles is awake and kicking his little legs. Katrina says he’ll start crawling pretty soon. He’s already rolling himself all over the floor when given the chance.

  I push back the blankets and scoop him up. He smiles and makes little cooing sounds as I carry him out of the room.

  “Hey there, hot stuff!” Christine looks over at me from the couch in the living room.

  I glance down, realizing I’m just in my boxers.

  “Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t want to wake Hannah.”

  “Who says I’m talking to you?” Christine raises an eyebrow at me, stands and takes Charles from my arms. “How’s my handsome little man today?”

  I take the opportunity to grab a cup of coffee and head outside.

  The front porch of the huge house is the perfect place to hang out in the morning, but I bypass it and walk off into the yard to loiter under a tree. I lean back, light a cigarette, and watch the community in front of me come to life.

  Katrina and her boyfriends come out of the house first, hand-in-hand-in-hand. They’ve started talking walks in the morning together, claiming they’re trying to get in some daily exercise. I have no doubt they’re getting their cardio in, but I don’t think walking is what’s keeping them in shape.

  I nod as they wave at me, hiding my smile behind the smoke.

  A door opens across the street. Hugo and Frank emerge, also holding hands. They joined our pack a month ago. Katrina has the idea that we should seek out couples to join our group, believing they will be less likely to represent a threat to the rest of us. I’m not sure I buy into her philosophy. I only agree to these guys because they’re gay.

  Does that make me a bigot?

  Katrina’s been talking to an older man and woman who have been hiding out in a campground near Stone Mountain and wants to bring them here. I’m still suspicious, still cautious, but I agreed to go meet them. There’s nothing altruistic about it—Katrina says they have working solar panels on their motorhome and that the man is some kind of scientist.

  Both might be useful.

  There are still packs of men out there hunting women. No one as organized as Caesar and Brett’s group, but they’re around. Hannah has talked about rescuing the women they’re using for barter, but we haven’t made any attempts.

  I’m torn on the whole subject.

  It’s the right thing to do, or at least it would be i
f we didn’t live in the world we live in. This is a selfish world, and I’m a practical person. Anyone we try to rescue puts the rest of us in danger, and I’m not ready to put my family in the line of fire. Maybe that makes me an asshole. I don’t really care.

  Hannah’s perspective is different. She feels for each and every woman she knows is out there. At some point, it’s going to become a bigger issue for her. Right now, I keep her distracted with Charles, but he’ll grow, and her need to bring peace to those women’s lives will grow along with him.

  I stomp out the cigarette and erase the thought from my mind. It’s a topic for another day. I head back inside briefly to dress and grab my rifle before I do a quick patrol around the neighborhood. It’s quiet today, and I see nothing of concern. When I return, Hannah is on the porch with Charles lying across her lap, sucking away. I head up the steps and lean over to kiss them both on their heads.

  “Did you sleep well?” I ask.

  “I did, thank you,” Hannah replies with a smile. “Did he have you up early?”

  “Nah, he believes in Sundays, too.” I return the smile and run inside to make some breakfast.

  The day passes quickly and quietly like Sundays should. Katrina’s trying to make a solar oven by spray-painting a cardboard box black and lining it with tinfoil. I don’t have a lot of hopes for it, but she’s got a book on the topic, and she’s determined.

  As evening approaches, I make my last patrol around the neighborhood. When I get back, Hannah has a blanket spread out on the lawn with Charles in the middle of it. He’s rolling back and forth, trying to grab anything he can reach and stick it in his mouth.

  I sit down on the blanket just as he gets to the edge, reaches into the grass, and grabs a fluffy dandelion. Reflexively, I grab his hand and pry it from his tiny fingers before he can get it into his mouth. He screams at me but is quickly distracted by one of his teething toys.

  “They’re edible, you know,” Hannah says. “Katrina puts dandelion leaves in the salads all the time.”

  “He doesn’t need a mouthful of those seeds,” I say. “He’d scream about that for hours.”

  “True.”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t gone all wifely on my ass yet and demanded I get the weeds out of the yard. We’re in the burbs here. Aren’t we supposed to have a perfectly manicured lawn?”

  Hannah shrugs, and a small smile crosses her face.

  “I like them, actually.” She reaches over to another dandelion and runs her fingers gently over the fuzzy white tips. “They’re survivors. Just when you think they’re dead, they plant little seeds everywhere.”

  I give her a look. She’s trying to make a point, but I don’t get it, and she doesn’t seem to care to elaborate. I don’t push it, but it does make me wonder.

  I kiss her cheek, tickle Charles’ stomach, and head inside to clean up. Once I’m thoroughly washed, I lie back in the bed with the hopes of catching a few minutes of sleep, but it doesn’t work out that way. Shortly after I lie down, the door opens.

  Hannah saunters over to the bed, climbs in next to me, and straddles my waist. I raise an eyebrow at her, and she leans over to press her lips to mine.

  “Where’s Charles?”

  “Actually,” Hannah says with a sly grin, “we have a babysitter for the night.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Christine is keeping him with her. I managed to get that manual breast pump thing to work just enough to get him through the night.”

  “So, I have you all to myself?”

  “You do.”

  “Hmm…” I reach up and tap my finger with my chin. “What are we going to do? Checkers? Parcheesi? Oh, I know! Marco found a copy of Escape to Witch Mountain on DVD. Let’s watch that!”

  She swats at my chest playfully and then leans in for another kiss. I open my mouth and search for her tongue as my arms wrap around her. She feels so good against me—so right and perfect. It’s as if she is meant to be right here with me, and everything that happened to get us to this point doesn’t matter anymore.

  Hannah breaks away from me and sheds her clothes quickly as I push my boxers down my legs and kick them to the floor. She’s back on top of me a second later.

  “Eager, aren’t you?”

  “I’ve been thinking about this since Christine’s offer,” Hannah says. “I want you inside me. Now.”

  “No argument here.” I grab my cock by the base and Hannah rises up on her knees above me. She slowly impales herself, and we moan together as her warmth embraces me.

  It’s been a while, and I feel like I should take my time, but Hannah has other ideas. As soon as I’m all the way inside her, she starts grinding her hips into me. I hold her ass with one hand and use the other to explore her body. I slide my fingers up her side and over her breast, cupping it and enjoying how full it feels.

  Hannah lets out a moan that goes straight to my cock. It pulses inside of her, and I have to close my eyes and grit my teeth to keep from letting loose immediately. Hannah starts to rock faster, and it takes all my control not to lose myself in her.

  I hold tightly to her hips, pulling her down over me as her body clenches around mine. She makes the most beautiful squeaking noises as she tries to muffle her cries. She keeps herself balanced by gripping my shoulders tightly with her fingertips while I push up with my hips. It’s not long before I feel the tension building in my thighs and stomach.

  I try to keep my groans in check as I shove up into her one last time. My balls tighten, and I grit my teeth as I explode inside of her. Hannah drops down on my chest, her fingers still clinging to my shoulders.

  I close my eyes and lean back against the pillow as I run my hands up and down her back. After a minute, Hannah sits back up and rolls off of me and onto her back. I move to my side and wrap an arm around her. I run my hand over her stomach. It’s still bouncy and fleshy from pregnancy, and it jiggles when I poke at it.

  “Stop that!” Hannah covers my hand.

  “Why?”

  “You’re playing with my fat,” she says.

  “It’s not fat,” I tell her. “It’s just soft. I like it.”

  “You’re weird.” She shakes her head at me. “Now let me go to sleep. It’s the first time I actually get to sleep all night without worrying about Charles waking up and wanting to be fed.”

  “Love you,” I whisper as I kiss her softly on the lips.

  “Love you, too,” she responds. She runs her fingers down the side of my face, rolls over, and presses her back to my chest.

  I lay there for a long time, just thinking. I can’t seem to close my eyes. I’m completely on edge, but I’m not sure exactly why. Everything is quiet. I’ve just had a massive orgasm, and I should be dropping off to sleep immediately, but I’m not.

  The bed’s too empty.

  I swallow as I realize the reason for my discomfort. Charles is supposed to be here with us. Though I trust Christine unconditionally and implicitly, I can’t protect him if he’s not here. I need my son with me.

  “Falk?” Hannah whispers in the dark as her hand creeps up to my chest.

  “Yeah?”

  “I miss Charles.”

  “I’ll go get him.”

  Christine is sitting up in bed with a book, and Charles is sleeping peacefully in a laundry basket lined with my woobie. Christine grins widely and doesn’t look the least bit surprised to see me at her bedroom door.

  “I had a feeling you wouldn’t make it through the night,” Christine says, chuckling softly.

  “Hannah misses him,” I say with a shrug.

  “Right—just Hannah.”

  I glance over at Christine, give her the finger, and then pick up the basket.

  “Goodnight, Falk.”

  “Goodnight, Christine, and thank you.”

  I tiptoe back down the stairs with the basket in my hands and return to our room. Hannah sits up in bed and holds out her arms. Charles wiggles a little when I transfer him from the basket to his
mother, but he doesn’t wake.

  Hannah runs her hand over Charles’ head, and he lets out a quiet sigh.

  “Do you think we should have another one?” she asks.

  “Already?”

  “Not right now or anything,” Hannah says. “I mean eventually.”

  “I think eventually it will end up happening,” I say. “Rhythm method has never been that reliable.”

  “What I mean is, would you want another one?”

  I think about it for a minute.

  “If we did, and it was a girl, it would scare the shit out of me.”

  “You would be a pretty fierce daddy bear to a little girl.”

  “I’d fucking kill anyone who came near her,” I tell her. “Maybe it’s not a good idea.”

  Hannah lays her head on my shoulder. A few minutes later, she’s asleep, but I’m still thinking about her question.

  I don’t care much about repopulating the planet. I just don’t care to think that globally. I don’t even know what there is out there beyond the Metro Atlanta area, but it’s likely more of the same. What kind of life is that for kids?

  What kind of life did I have before?

  Before all of this, I had my job and my memories. The job was just something I did, and the memories haunted me. My most intimate actions involved a bottle or surfing the internet on my phone. Now I have Hannah and Charles. I have a reason to exist in this world, so maybe I shouldn’t judge it too unfairly.

  I don’t know what kind of future Charles will have. Hell, I don’t know what the future holds for any of us. But I know we’re alive, and we have each other. One way or another, we’re going to make a life for ourselves in this new world.

  I coil my arms around my family and listen to their slow, steady breaths.

  In a world where everything was accessible with a few clicks on a smartphone, I had nothing. In a world of chaos where we have to fight for our very existence, I have everything.

  I feel fine.

  I feel needed.

  I’m whole again.

  ~~The End~~

  Author’s Notes

  Sometimes, a story just worms its way into my head, and there is nothing I can do but write it. Commodity wasn’t planned. It wasn’t on my list at all of things to write this year, but I’m not always in control of what goes on in my mind, and sometimes I have to just go with it.