Free Tourists of the Apocalypse by C. F. WALLER Page B

in a way that indicates she senses my awkwardness.
    “Sorry, why don’t you bring the living half of you in here and join the party,” she whispers, pulling me by the arm.
     
    …
     
    The front door creaks open revealing Graham. From my perch at a small table in the kitchen I can see him before he sees me. It’s not uncommon for him to turn up here looking for a cup of coffee and some chat in the morning. I drop my IPad, a gift from him on my recent 18 th birthday and wave a hand.
    “In here,” I whistle.
    “Morning,” he whispers, stepping in and heading straight for the coffee pot. “No school for you today?”
    “Teacher in-service.”
    “On a Wednesday?” he remarks, adding an obscene amount of sugar to his coffee.
    He leans on the counter facing me, periodically blowing on his coffee. I hadn’t noticed till now but Graham and his people drink a ton of coffee. They must never sleep . Graham looks worn out in my estimation. Mr. Dibble often works into the wee hours of the morning and it must keep him up. Dark bags circle the bottoms of his eyes as he sips the hot coffee wearing a pained expression.
    “Mr. Dibble keeping you up?”
    “Yup,” he nods, then points at the IPad. “What’s new in the world?”
    “They got those miners out last night.”
    “No kidding,” he yawns. “Peru?”
    “Chile.”
    “I’ll be,” he shrugs. “Say Dylan, speaking of being trapped, how many days you got left in High School jail?”
    “Graduation is June sixth.”
    “All hail the class of 2011,” he recites, then raises his glass in a comical toast.
    I stick my tongue out at him.
    “Still dead set on the military?”
    “Not a lot of options for me here.”
    “You can work for us,” he reminds me. “Lance offered you a job.”
    “And I appreciate it, but I want to try something that feels less nepotistic.”
    “Fine, but think about how your decision affects me. Who’s going to mow my lawn?” he complains.
    “Sorry, I forgot this was all about you.”
    The door creaks again followed by Izzy’s groggy looking face. Graham and I glance in her direction as she waves a hand at us, before covering up her mouth to yawn. She’s wearing flannel pajama bottoms covered in rabbits and a grey hoodie emblazed with Texas A&M in maroon. Graham and I both roll our eyes when she passes on the way to the coffee pot. On her feet are Sylvester the Cat slippers that are more akin to a stuffed animal than footwear. She clomps by revealing that the bottom half of the fuzzy cats are covered in dirt and grime from walking around outside.
    “Don’t stop talking on my account,” she mumbles, ending in another yawn.
    “The big man gone for the week?” Graham needles her.
    “A week, a day, who knows,” she groans dismissively. “At least he’s gone.”
    I had already assumed this. Izzy would never have crossed the road dressed like that this if Lance were here. Their relationship actually seems to have improved with him being gone so much. When she sits down, I realize how much I will miss Graham and Izzy. Quiet moments like this feel like family. Then again what reference point would I have for that?
    “Why aren’t you in school?” Izzy barks.
    “In-service day.”
    “Where’s Missy?” she demands, craning her head to look past Graham into the living room.
    “Down stairs working on the Laundry.”
    “How long till you graduate?” she fires another question at me.
    “June.”
    “He talk you out of the Army yet,” she grumbles, pointing her coffee mug at Graham.
    “Nope.”
    “Ugh,” she utters, puffing air up and blowing her bangs off of her forehead.
    “I tried,” Graham sighs, getting up and rinsing out his mug in the sink. “He’s determined.”
    “Determined to get himself blown up or shot,” Izzy accuses, wrinkling her nose at me.
    “Probably,” he agrees, and then heads to the door. “Off to see the wizard.”
    “Tell your boyfriend hi for me,” Izzy snickers.
    To this, he shakes his head