A scratching sound comes from the other side of the fence to my right. I whirl around, pointing the shotgun. But almost as suddenly as it started, the noise stops. I hold my breath, listening for the scratch again and hearing only the sound of my racing heart. Maybe it was a tree, a branch blowing in the wind or something.
It isn’t. There’s a harder, louder scratch—several of them, like a creature pawing at the other side, and the fence shakes. I hear a growl from behind the fence, low to the ground. I point the shotgun where I think whatever could be making that sound is.
“The top of the fence, Andrew!” Henri’s voice screams from behind me. “Not there! The top!”
I raise the shotgun to the top of the fence. What could it be? What could jump up to the top of the fence? Henri’s on the move. She runs to the side of the house.
“If you see it, shoot it and run to the house as fast as you can. Both of you. Don’t wait to see if you hit it, just move.”
Henri grabs something. She runs to the fence and begins shaking whatever’s in her hand, creating a piercing noise. She stops long enough for me to see it’s a mason jar filled with pennies. She puts her ear to the fence, then shakes the pennies a final time, screaming.
She stops and we all wait in silence. A minute passes, but we hear nothing and Henri turns, smiling.
“There, all gone.” She puts the jar back and goes over to Jamie.
“What was that?” he asks.
She shrugs, unconcerned. “Told you there’s monsters.”
“Yeah,metaphorical!” I say.
“So there’s real ones, too.”
Even with the monster scare, we eat outside. She’s made us rabbit, which came from mason jars she canned herself, and grilled veggies. It’s the first time since leaving Jamie’s that I’ve had meat that wasn’t stuffed into canned ravioli. It’s absolutely amazing, and there’s plenty of it.
We ask more about the “monster,” but all Henri tells us is she knows it’s some hungry animal. A bigger one came over the fence one night after she had already gone inside to eat, but she never got a chance to see what it was, and never wanted to look. She took to calling it “the monster” because that’s how big it was.
“Plus I feel it adds a touch of whimsy to the apocalypse. It’s probably a bear from the state park or mountain lion from out in the Alleghenies. Coulda swore I saw a boar one day back in the pre-superflu times.”
After dinner we go into the living room and light candles. We tell her about our lives, Jamie first, while she sips water and uses a small handheld fan. By the time I’m telling her about Jamie fixing my leg, he’s snoring, passed out on his own shoulder. I look over at him and smile. Henri does, too.
I stand up and pull his torso over onto the couch so his neck isn’t strained. I let him sleep as Henri moves over for me.
“He your boyfriend?”
I smile and shake my head. “I’m not his type.”
She gives me a skeptical glance. “He left home to follow you?”
“It was a vacation cabin, but yeah?” What did that matter?
“The vacation cabin with hot water and electricity.”
So? He was worried about Howard and his people. She doesn’t get it—how bad everything is out there. She’s been lucky. If she wants to make the trip up north for a hot shower, I’ll give her the directions.
“Sounds like a nice place is all I’m saying.” She gives me another skeptical look, or maybe it’s judgy. Maybe she thinks we were thoughtless for leaving.
I smile and nod, her eyes still on me. I look back at the pictures on the wall.
“Is one of these your husband?”
She chuckles, allowing the subject change, and points at a wedding portrait. “That’s us. Tommy and me. He passed in 2007. We had three great kids, though.” She points them out as she speaks. “Tommy Jr., Kristy, and Amy. Tommy and Kristy both have four little ones each with their spouses and Amy is... was pregnant with her first. Last I heard.”
Sadness clouds her glassy eyes.
“Is she...?” I don’t want to say it. It’s horrible even thinking it.
She shrugs. “Don’t know. I stopped hearing from her when the phone went out. Little Tommy is. His wife, Maggie, called me last August to let me know. She called me again when their son William and daughter Anna died. That was the last I heard. Kristy lost her husband and three of her children. She called me every day until the phones died. I’m optimistic, so I like to think they’re still alive.”
