2

Hart

 

                He stood just outside of the doorway to his house, looking north to the mountains. It was the morning of day two, and he was worried as always. His gut wrenched every time he thought about it. Whether it was Rachel or one of the boys, he always felt the same. He only sent Sten once so far and that was the worst four days of his life. He vowed he would wait at least another year before he sent him again. He was always torn between going himself and sending his children. On one hand if he goes by himself, he can carry more, he’s quicker and his children can stay safely in the confides of their home. They would be away from any real danger. They’ve been in this valley for months now and haven’t seen any mountain cats, Cale’s Army, Reapers, or any other band of misfits that would jeopardize their safety. The downfall of only him making the trips would be that if he succumbed to any of the elements, whether man, beast, or Mother Nature, his children, his most prized possessions would be left alone. He also knew that if he kept them sheltered like his heart so desperately yearned to do, he would kill them, eventually. Not by his own hand, no. But in this world you cannot be shielded away and expect to live on your own. You needed to know how to fight. How to survive. And Hart knew that the best way of teaching his children that was to send them out into the world and let experience be their teacher.

                He hated it, though. No form of communication. One time they found two-way radios that ran on AA batteries that still worked but unfortunately were lost during the move to this valley. There’s not enough supplies left in this town to survive but the next valley over was too dangerous to live in, though it was bountiful with supplies. He had decided that it was best to live in this valley, where there was hardly anyone living there and make runs into the next valley over when supplies were needed. So far he only knew of 10 other families that lived in this valley, which was perfect to him. From behind him he heard a clatter and he turned to see his youngest standing in the living room of the abandoned house they had made their home frozen, looking at him. At her feet was a small pile of stones, each roughly the size of a robin’s egg.

                “What are of you doing with those?” he inquired of his daughter. She stared at him for a moment, unmoving then hung her head.

                “Fine,” she said in an exasperated sigh, “I’ll put them back.” As she bent down to pick up the pile that was just barely too big for her hands Hart smiled at her. Her favorite thing to do was to hide her older sibling’s things. She currently had Sten’s  sling stones, as that was what he was most proficient at. He had an eye for it and the arm and could hit anything he wanted with easy up to fifty yards. As he stood there watching Sariah pick up the pile of small stones he heard a yell from the distance. He turned from his daughter to look for the location of the voice. Off to the south he saw a person in a dead sprint running toward them through the field. The person yelled again, waving his arms. Hart walked to the end of the porch and that’s when he realized it was Rhett running towards him.

                “DAD!”  Rhett called, his yells more audible now to Hart. Hart stepped of the porch and called over his shoulder to Sariah in a stern voice, “Stay in the house.” and started off in a brisk pace towards Rhett. As the two met in the field Rhett slowed his pace and tried to catch his breath.

                “Dad!” he gasped as he finally stopped, putting his hands on his knees then standing up straight putting his hands behind his head, closing his eyes trying to calm himself.

                “Where’s Sten?” Hart asked.

                “Still at Ralph’s. Waiting.” He said between his labored breaths.

                “Waiting for what?” Hart inquired.

                “More info.” Rhett said, putting his hands on his hips, leaving one eye shut and squinting in the sunlight through the other at his dad. Hart looked at Rhett waiting for more information and it took Rhett a moment to realize what his dad was waiting for. “Rodge was at the lookout point last night.” He said between breaths again, though slower and less laborious. “Dad, Reapers. They came in the mouth of the valley in the middle of the night. Rodge ran all the way back as soon as he saw them. He just got here.” 

                Hart’s face lost all color. His heart sank into his stomach which sunk into his pelvis. “Which valley? Ours?” He asked in a quivering voice, hoping that it was this valley so he could watch over his children, and not the next over where Rachel was all alone. Rhett just shook his head and in that instant Hart knew. “How many?” Hart asked.

                “Rodge said only three. But you know that’s more than enough.”

                Rhett was right. One was too many. Hart turned his attention back to the north, wishing he could see through the mountain, or that the mountain wasn’t there. He wished he could see where his Rachel was. If she was safe. Or had she been claimed by the Reapers.

                “Rodge said if you want to go, he’ll go with you. Ralph said hell no to going but said he would lend supplies.” Rhett said.

                Hart just stared at the mountain. “No.” He finally said. Rhett just stared at his dad. He was old enough to understand, but it was still gut wrenching to think of his baby sister out there alone against three Reapers amongst all the other danger in that valley.

                “Dad-“ Rhett started.

                “No.” Hart interrupted. “You know we can’t.” he turned back to his son. “Go get Sten.” Rhett looked at his father for a second, nodded and turned around into a jog and headed back to Ralph’s.

                Hart wished that sometimes Rodger would stay away from that damned lookout point. It was at the end of the valley at the mouth of the lake where the mountain that separated the two valleys ended. There was no charged duty to the lookout point. Every now and then one of them would spend a day or two there, just to try to see who or what was coming and going, though it really didn’t matter. More of a precaution just to know what was going on around them every now and then. He wished he didn’t know that the Reapers came, that she was in that kind of danger. Then again at least if she never came back he would know why and he would be able to cope with the loss sooner instead of never finding out and it eating away at him for years.

                “Daddy?” Hart heard from a small voice behind him. He wheeled around to see Sariah standing behind him.

                “I thought I told you to stay in the house?” He said in a stern voice.

                “I was scared.” She said feebly, hanging her head. He sighed, and then knelt down at her level. He placed his finger gently under her chin and pushed upward, his eyes searching for hers. When her eyes finally found his Hart spoke, “Honey. There’s nothing to be afraid of. You know I won’t let anything happen to you.” She sniffled and started to fidget her hands together, not breaking their gaze. “What are you afraid of?” He asked her. Without saying anything she turned at her hips and stretched out an arm in the general direction of the house. As she turned he saw it in his peripheral vision. He didn’t want to believe it. It couldn’t be true. His eyes followed her outstretched arm, down her small finger and to the black robed and hooded figure that was approaching their house from the far side. Hart’s heart stopped instantly. His body tensed and his breath snagged in his throat. Reaper.