Free Dust by Jacqueline Druga-marchetti Page B

during the day.
    In the quiet of the night, voices carry. Burke must have been listening, because occasionally he’d sprout out a comment to add to the conversation I had with the kids. Simon sat to my right, Matty to my left, Davy directly in front of me, doing something I wished he wouldn’t do—skim through my sketchpad.
    Davy snickered. “This is funny. Simon, look at how Aunt Jo drew you.”
    Simon laughed. I winced.
    “Like a baby doll.” Davy said, then flipped to another sketch.
    “Davy, don’t smear those OK?” I instructed. “I don’t have anything to spray them with.”
    “I’m not. I’m not.” He peered at another.
    I tried to continue in my story to Simon and Matty. “Anyway, where was I?”
    Burke replied from across the basement, “The cabin.”
    “Mom?” Davy held up a picture. “Why did you draw a diagram of the basement? I mean we’re here.”
    “Because you never know who’s gonna look at those.” I said. “That may very well be part of the new history books.”
    Davy snickered.
    “What?” I defended, “It could happen. Hey ... who knows. Maybe even our ‘AB’ time thing will carry on.”
    From the stairs again, Burke commented, “I hate that.”
    “Who cares,” I said. “Anyway. The cabin.” I inched Simon and Matty closer to me. “It’s a place not far from here, but far enough away that the bombs probably never touched it. It’s not too big ... ”
    Burke interrupted, “It’s big. Bigger than this.”
    I ignored him. “And you know how we have those jars to start our seedlings? Well, we’re gonna take the seedlings and plant them up there.”
    Burke added his two cents worth. “After we lift the top of the soil.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. Anyhow, there’s a ton of land too. Room to run, to play. Two acres.”
    “Two point three.” Burke corrected.
    I continued, “Lots of trees.”
    “I cut half of them down.” Burke added. “Remember.”
    “Enough trees, though to make it pretty.” I said.
    “I put that fence up.”
    “Burke!” I yelled. “Will you stay out of my story!”
    “Tell it right and I will!” he hollered back.
    “I’m trying to, but you keep interrupting.”
    “I keep interrupting because you’re telling it wrong!”
    There was one thing that Tammy was able to do, that no one else could—yell louder than Burke. In a deep, irritated, gurgling voice, she blasted, “Hey! Will you two knock it off? Some of us would like to sleep.”
    “Well, sleep goddamn it!” Burke yelled. “No one’s stopping you.”
    “You are!” Tammy barked. “You and your big mouth.”
    “Hey!” Burke had a bite to his voice. “Me and my big mouth along with my big shotgun are watching out for your big ass, so deal with it!”
    Silence.
    “Oh, my God.” I whispered, and then exhaled. “Well, that’s where we’re going. Doesn’t it sound nice? A fresh start.” I glanced from Simon, to Matty to Davy.
    “Aunt Jo?” Simon tugged on my arm. “Will my mommy be there?”
    I didn’t hesitate, I just answered. “I don’t know, Simon. Maybe.”
    “Is she still lost, Aunt Jo?” Simon asked.
    “I think so, Simon.” I took in his innocent face; puppy eyes that peered up to me and I gently placed my lips to his forehead.
    “Mommy?” Matty called me. “When? When are we going?”
    “When everyone is together, then we’ll go. And ... ” I paused when Sam’s coughing carried to me. “And ... when everyone is well.”
    “When will that be?” Matty questioned further.
    “Soon.” My eyes made contact with Davy and I gave him a reassuring look. “Very soon.” Pulling Matty and Simon to me, I closed my eyes, blocked out the sounds of Sam’s coughing, and whispered to myself, “I hope.”  

 
    11. Realism  

    Just before dawn of day six AB, the airwaves went silent. Craig had stopped transmitting his hourly reports. Usually he’d sign off about midnight, later if he felt the initiative, then return at five the next day. We tuned