Aftertime — Two

A man, taller than me, with dark hair and sharp, green eyes. He’s a mere feet away, but far enough away that I can’t hurt him. My eyes widen in disbelief. An actual person is standing before me.

We stare at each other for what seems like forever. The hot sun beams down and I can feel the sweat forming on my body, from the heat and stress. I can see that he is beading with sweat, too.

I swallow hard when I hear him speak. It has been so long since I heard another person’s voice.

“I won’t hurt you…” His voice is deep and calm.

I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. What am I going to say?

He starts to inch towards me slowly, and it’s all I can do to hold my ground, but my stance is faltering and I feel afraid, nervous.

“Wait,” I say in almost a whisper and he stops a few feet before me. He is almost within distance of an attack, but he has no weapons. He holds his hands out to his sides, palms facing me, showing me he poses no threat, but I still keep my knife at the ready.

Don’t trust anyone.

Another of my father's many lessons.

He speaks again, quiet and calm. “Listen to me, I am not here to hurt you. I just need… I need help.”

My hand falls slightly when I hear the word help. Should I help him? What if it’s a trap? What if he’s just trying to steal my supplies?

I stand straight and let my hand drop. I won’t put the knife away yet, but I want him to know that I’m willing to listen. He looks somewhat relieved.

“My name is Trevor. I’ve been out here alone and I just need some food and a place to sleep.”

I eyeball him, looking for any reason I shouldn’t trust him, but I don’t see anything. He sounds like he’s telling the truth, and I know how it feels to be hungry. I know how it feels to be alone.

He looks at me, awaiting a response, but I am still unsure of what to say. My voice sounded so foreign to me before, that I was almost afraid to hear myself speak again.

I slide the knife back into its sheath on my belt and I try to relax, looking him up and down from head to toe. He doesn’t seem to have any weapons, which makes me wonder how he’s even made it this far, but I don’t question him. I do notice his clothes are dirty and worn, so I know he’s not had a decent place to rest for awhile. The black under his eyes confirms to me that he hasn’t slept much, either.

He’s muscular but also frail, and malnourished, I can tell. He’s in desperate need of food, that's for certain.

I find myself believing him, without another word.

“Come with me,” I say plainly and walk towards the cart of food still sitting in the middle of the road. I push the cart and he follows behind, but not too closely. I think maybe he’s cautious of me, just as I am of him.

It takes longer to get back to the library and by the time I am unlocking the door, it’s past 1:30pm. I open the door and the light floods into the dark building. He walks in behind me and looks astonished by the amount of supplies I have stacked high against the far left wall.

He’s close now, a few feet away from me, and I can sense that he’s overwhelmed with emotions. Is he this happy to see food? I clear my throat and he turns to me. I avoid his stare when I talk.

“Eat whatever you want, there’s plenty.” I can feel him staring daggers into me, shocked. I turn to walk out the door, I have to bring the supplies in, but he reaches out to grab my arm and pulls me around. My heart stops at the feel of another person. It’s so unreal, my breath catches inside me, and I find myself staring up into his green eyes.

“Thanks…” he says simply, and lets me go. Before I even get a chance to react, he’s walking towards the stacks of food.

I gather my senses and walk out the door, unsure of how I feel. My heart races from the thought of being touched, being spoken to. It’s all so surreal.

I get to the cart and swiftly pull out my father's journal to record the latest. I write hastily the time and place I met this person, his name, his appearance and that I have brought him to the library. If my dad was alive, he’d be so mad at me right now. But I ignore that feeling and put the journal away. I grab an armful of stuff and carry it up the stairs and into the library, over to the stacks. The man is sitting on the floor against the back wall, woofing down a can of chicken. There’s already a few empty cans around him, and he looks so much better now that he has food in him. He looks up at me when I get close, and smiles.

His smile catches me off guard, but I try not to show it. I set the supplies down and organize it before I start to leave for more. He watches my every move, which is pretty uncomfortable, but I try to ignore him.

I’m walking away when I hear him stand and start to follow me. I peer over my shoulder and sure enough, he’s behind me, exiting and following down to the cart.

“I wanna help, in exchange for the food.” He reaches into the cart and scoops up more than half, and carries it in. I sigh. I haven’t said anything to him since we’ve gotten here. He probably thinks I’m some sort of loner weirdo.

I scoop up what’s left in the cart and carry it in. He’s already caught on and is organizing everything into it’s rightful place. I drop what I’m carrying and start organizing myself, keeping a safe distance from the newcomer.

He doesn’t press me to talk, but I can tell he’s curious about me. And who wouldn’t be? A strange, loner with a safe haven of supplies. I avoid his stares and try to work up the courage to speak. What should I say?

“Maddy,” I say, instantly feeling stupid. But he knows what I’m saying and he smiles gently. It makes me feel less of a fool.

We finish stacking the food and I whip out the journal again to write down a few things. He watches me, cleaning his mess up and tossing the cans into the trash bin in the corner. As I finish up my writing, I look up to see he’s looking through the mass assortment of books there is.

“I can’t believe the place you have here,” he says, noticing me looking at him.

I put the journal away, next to my bed, and sit down with a can of mixed fruit.

I eat it slowly as he reads through the titles of the books.

“Have you read any of these?” He motions to the bookshelf. I can only scoff. Of course I’ve read them. I’ve read almost all of them. I choose to nod in response and he sits down in front of me, leaning back on his hands.

“So… judging from the amount of food you’ve collected, you’ve been here awhile, right?”

Should I answer that? Does it really matter if he knows how long I’ve been here?

“Five years…” I say, my voice sounding distant. Five years…

“Five? Holy shit… are you alone?” He looks around when he says this. Maybe he thought he missed something.

I don’t know if I should tell him I am alone. What if he is just trying to get information so that he can steal my shelter? Kill me and just move in. I decide to make up a story and stick to it.

“No, not alone. My father is out scouting.” A straight up lie. My first lie in years. I hope he’ll believe it. He must, because he doesn’t question me, he only nods.

“Well, I hate to ask, but if you let me sleep here tonight, I’d really appreciate it. I’ll leave first thing in the morning.” He looks at me with hopeful eyes and I find myself unable to say no. Is it because I want to help him, or because I don’t want him to go?

“Sure…” my voice creaks out and he smiles again. He looks relieved.

“I hope your dad won’t mind finding me here.” He leans back onto his elbows, stretching out on the floor. I look away, thinking of my father now. Maybe that lie wasn’t such a good idea.

“It’s okay, he’ll be gone for a few days.” I lie again. With that, I stand and walk over to the supplies. I have a whole stack of blankets and sleeping bags, so I grab a couple of sleeping bags for padding, and a few blankets for him to use. He sees what I’m doing and stands quickly, rushing over to me. He takes half of my load and stands there.

I decide he must be waiting for me to show him where to go, so I walk over near my bed, but on the other side of the bookshelf. I toss the sleeping bags down and smooth them out for him, then I begin to walk around to my side of the bookshelf.

“Hey,” he calls out to me and I turn. He’s laying the blankets out on the bags. “Thanks, Maddy.”

I feel something inside me. A warmth. A gratefulness to have found company. I can’t help but smile a little, but I turn around before he can see it. I don’t say anything as I walk away and crawl into my bed. It’s only 2:30pm now, so I can’t yet go to sleep. Normally I would eat lunch and then head out again to gather more supplies, but today I couldn’t do that. Not with someone here. I don’t want him to know my routine, just in case.

So what to do in the meantime? I look beside my bed and pick up the book I’ve been reading. Usually I wouldn’t read until night time, but what else was there to do?

I hear Trevor shuffling through the books on his side of the shelf. Is he going to read? I’m curious, so I stand up and walk up to the shelf to listen. These shelves are solid wood, so there isn’t any way I can see him, but I can hear him mumbling the titles, and making sounds of interest.

I wonder if I should recommend something to him?

I decide I want to learn more about my visitor. Where he’s from, why he’s alone, and where he’s going. I wander around the shelf slowly, and peek around. He doesn’t notice me right now, so I watch him. He’s got a book open in his hands, reading down the page. I see the backing and I instantly know what it is. I’ve read it more than once.

“That’s a long read.” I say and he turns around, shutting the book and looking at me. He looks down at the cover then back at me.

“Oh, I was just…”

“It’s okay. You can keep it, if you like.” I’m surprised by my own words, but I don’t show it. I walk over to him and stare down at the book in his hands. I notice his knuckles are red and scarred, as if he’s had to fight something, or someone. “It’s a good read.”

He smiles, and thanks me, and then he sits down on his bed and opens to page one. But I’m not ready to end the conversation. I think of how I should question him.

I stare at him for awhile. He looks older than me, probably in his mid 20s. Rugged, with black hair and green eyes.

He could probably take me down in a fight fairly easily.

He looks up and sees me staring and questions me with his eyes. I clear my throat and decide it’s time to speak, or else come off looking like a creep.

I lean my back against the shelf and cross my arms. “So…” I’m not sure where to start, but he’s staring at me now, so I have to think hastily. “Where are you headed?”

He closes the book and looks down, his eyes staring daggers into the floor. “I’m — I’m not sure. I’m just trying to get by.”

“Why haven’t you hunkered down somewhere?”

“I — I don’t know. I mean, I did. I was hunkered down. But it was taken from me. Now I have nothing. Not even a weapon.”

I consider what he’s saying. If it were true, it makes sense. I suppose at any point in time someone could come in and do the same to me. Then where would I be? I could see myself stuck in his position. He’s lucky he ran into me and not some crazed killer.

“Do you have any skills?” I ask, wondering if he can hunt, or anything really.

“I can shoot,” He says, looking up at me.

I think about it. I’ve got guns, hidden away in the library. My father was the gunman, before he died. I never got around to learning much about it, nor did I ever want to. I knew how to use a gun, of course, I just never had the nerve to use one in combat. My usual response to trouble was either hide, or run away. And so far, it had worked.

I wonder what I should do with him. Should I let him stay, and see if he can earn his keep? It would be horrible of me to make him leave, knowing he has nowhere to go. I could give him a weapon and some supplies to get by, but where would that get him?

I decide I want to sleep on it, and make sure I’m making the right decision.

“I get up at sunrise. We’ll have breakfast and talk. I may be able to use someone who can shoot,” I tell him, eying him for a reaction. His demeanor changes, more relaxed, and he smiles slightly, with a hopeful look in his eyes.

I know I can’t send him away.

The rest of the day, we keep to ourselves. He reads, I read. Come nightfall, we gather some food for dinner and sit down, facing each other, to eat. He makes small talk and I respond in short answers. It’s hard for me to talk, since I haven’t done it in so long. Which makes me wonder, has he been talking to someone? He can speak effortlessly, without a concern, it seems. Maybe some people are just born that way.

He tells me how glad he is to have found me out there, and I suddenly feel nervous, like I don’t know how to reply. I end up nodding, and I guess he understands. He’s not pushy, or expectant of anything. He’s just easy to be around, which I’m glad for.

After dinner, we clean up, and I show him the handheld games I use to play when I was young. His eyes light up like a kid and he instantly starts playing. I give him a hand full of batteries and a variety of games to go through. He seems happy, and that makes me feel happy.

I say goodnight and head off to bed, but as I lay in bed, drifting to sleep, I can hear the sounds from the game, and his quiet snickers.