No Good Ship Sails Without a Life Boat

Every day felt like a reorientation to the quiet. The quiet reminder that you needed wood for the stove. The quiet reminder that if you wanted to eat, there were no grocery stores anymore. The quiet reminder that the world, in its greatest act of solidarity, had become bigger and more distant than it had in millennia.

The bed shifts as Fender jumps up and paws through the pelts to find Lois. She sticks her nose out and spies the dog. She knows all too well that one of two things were bound to happen: either she invites him for a snuggle and he calmly comes to her, or she rolls over and he tries to dig her out with a pounce and a yip.

“Secret third option,” she growls and throws her weight into the bed, knocking the mountain of blankets off and sending Fender flying.

Lois pulls on her wool socks to the sound of Fender’s scrambling paws regaining stability on the wood floor. She crouches down in front of the makeshift stove/fireplace to get some warmth going while pushing Fender away.

“You’ll burn yourself, crazy animal,” she says sternly feeding one last log to the stove. She stands with her hands on her hips which causes Fender to sit with the waggliest tail and the happiest panting face.

“Place!” she commands and points to a square pile of hay covered by another pelt. The dog does not budge.

“Place, Fender!” she repeats with more authority.

Fender’s unblinking eyes and panting mouth indicate zero recognition for all their training. Lois sighs and yields by using the only command Fender will respond to:

“Do you want to starve?” she says with exasperation, to which Fender immediately trots over to his place and sits with crossed paws.

“Mangey mutt,” she mutters to herself as she goes about making his breakfast.

Her friends in town told her to teach the dog proper commands, but there was no time back then. Training would have replaced building the house, cutting wood, boiling water, making food, taking her shift at the Radio House. So, she talked to Fender and he would go around puddles. Yell at Fender and he would latch the gate. Threaten Fender and he would go to his bed and wait for vegetable scraps and bones. Once Titus was gone, though…there was more time. Less raising of a son, more angrily chopping up wood. Less seeing friends, more talking to dogs. And once a couple quiet years had passed and the anger had tapered down to a simmer and the dog kept responding to casual conversation, Lois knew it was time to see her friends again…and maybe try to train that dog.

“Good boy,” she whispers as she sets his bowl down and pats his head.

Lois sighs and shuffles off to her bathroom which is really just a pantry composed of a trough for water and a car rearview mirror. Mirrors were hard to come by unless you were living in a pre-build. That was one thing she never minded about the New World. She did not need to know how much more grey hair she had, how many more wrinkles streaked out from her eyes. Small glimpses of change were enough for her. After living in the self-obsessed Old World of her youth inundated with all kinds of mirrors, she was satisfied with never having to see herself again.

“We don’t have time for slow thoughts,” she tosses her hair and begins braiding it down her back.

Fender runs over and gives her a pointed snort in agreement.

Lois snorts back at him in amusement and closes up the water closet. “It’s mid-week, we don’t have time for foolishness–” before she can finish the word, Fender is seated by the door ready to be saddled with his utility vest.

A chuckle escapes her as she pulls on her heavily patched jeans, a dim purple turtleneck, and a vest of sheep’s wool and deer skin. “ ‘Train him with real words,’ what dog knows the word ‘foolishness’?” she asks Fender as she bends down to attach the vest. “None but you, my boy,” she scratches his ears. “None but you.”

The walk to town is a long one. Everyone complained when she left to build her cabin ten years ago, but nothing could convince her to stay surrounded by those afraid of the New World, those excited for the New World, the conspiracy theorists staring at the sky tracking the station abandoning them, and of course, Simon. He was like an uncle to Lois, a grandfather to Titus, and nearly as dismayed as Lois at his sudden disappearance.

“No good ship sails without a lifeboat,” Simon had grumbled to Lois as she packed up the apartment.

“That is no ‘good ship,’ Simon, with no good men piloting it,” Lois hissed, blinking back tears and haphazardly throwing Titus’ things in a box.

“Self-preservation - ”

“No coming back!” she whirled on him, chest heaving. “No change of mind, no coming back, they took – ” her voice cracked.

Simon took a couple old and shaky steps toward her and opened his arms. “He had his father’s eyes,” she wept into his broad chest. “His hands and his eyes.”

Lois scans the thinning trees up ahead at the end of her dirt road and pulls out a clicker from her pocket. She clicks it three times rapidly, sending an indiscernible signal (by human standards) to Fender’s ears, a code he knows to mean, “Check the road. Come back if anyone is there.”

Fender sprints off and disappears to the right. A couple moments pass, then he runs to the left. Lois begins digging in her vest’s breast pocket for a treat. As she exits the woods, she spies the dog sitting in the middle of the old highway, panting from his efforts, expecting his well-earned reward.

“Good boy,” she tosses a piece of jerky in the air. “No boy gooder than you.” She tousles his head between the ears and continues the walk down the cracked and faded asphalt.

The walk to town is made of hills, woods, and empty fields bedded down for the winter. Everyone feared Lois would be attacked on the open road like this, but what no one seemed to recognize was that she lived up a series of hills and located at the bottom of the last and steepest incline into the mountains no one tended to venture through. She was safe. More importantly, she was removed.

“Morning, Simon,” she scrapes her feet on the door mat and holds the door open for Fender. After slipping her boots off and storing them on the rack, she surveys the Radio House.

It quite literally was somebody’s house in town, packed between other three-bedroom businesses. After its abandonment during the Split, it had been converted into the Radio House. The downstairs area served as Simon’s living quarters and lodging for the couriers. The upstairs was full of equipment, filing cabinets bursting with notes, and cables running to the two towers they kept out back. But the real gem of the house was the third and topmost floor: All the walls were knocked out of this level of the house and replaced with windows for a 360 view of the town and the makeshift runway out back. In the center of the room was the Driver’s Seat where you had access to one of very few working computers. Then there was the radio. Most of your time was spent delivering news, weather reports, and playing music (that was a new addition after Council decided life needed to be a little less serious all day every day).

“Morning, Fender,” Simon rolls around the corner in his wheelchair with a ball in his hand that Fender is losing his mind over. After a sigh and a dramatic eyeroll, Simon throws the ball over his shoulder. “Good morning, love,” he finally addresses Lois.

“How’s the stump?” she nods to his left leg missing from the knee down.

“It’s a fact at this point,” he snorts and pulls a sock on before throwing his blanket back over it. “Just a fact.”

Lois nods and checks her watch. “Any news before I head up?”

Simon looks down contemplating Fender with the ball. “Oh!” he throws up his hands, as if Fender gave the answer in a series of pants. “Norton sent word ahead of their ground-courier. Said there’s an urgent chain message. Gonna need to get Billy ready to go.”

“Urgent?” Lois raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, Lois,” Simon tosses the ball again. “It’s a chain all the way from Zero.”

“Did they say how many Zero sent out?” she asks, studying the couch on the left wall away from Simon.

“Twelve,” Simon answers, grinding his teeth. “It’s going everywhere.”

“Good morning, guys!” comes the excited voice of Becky bustling in. “How we doing?”

Simon’s stare at Lois and Lois’ stare at the worn-out couch cause Becky to shift from foot to foot like a nervous house.

“Maybe some coffee?” she ventures.

“Set both bedrooms and go get Billy,” Simon looks at Becky’s fresh face. “We’ve got two couriers coming in today and need to send one immediately after. Understood?”

Her eyes widen and she catches her breath. “Yes, sir, understood,” she whispers and takes a tentative step towards the back of house.

“Coffee too, Becky,” Lois says. “It’s gonna be a long day.”

Becky nods and purses her lips before disappearing. A moment passes before Lois finally meets Simon’s gaze.

“Call Warren, I’m going home.”

“Not an option,” Simon answers.

“Or what?” she fires back.

“Or you’re not welcome here anymore and you can be a full-time hermit instead of a part-time radio tech!” he retorts.

Both faces hard, both pairs of eyes fiery, both chests slowly returning to normal breath before Simon finally adds, “You need to stop hiding from every possible urgency.”

“There’s a difference between hiding from urgency and -.”

“Lois,” Simon rolls his chair to her and lowers his voice into a scary severity. “This town depends on us for information and if there’s an urgency that requires all hands on deck, yours are the first fucking hands I’m counting on, and no. That’s not a compliment, it’s a fact. Like the fact that this winter is likely to be harder than any other and Zero has a lot more access to a lot more info than us. Like the fact that everything is not about you. Like the fact that you have a responsibility to this town or you may no longer be a part of it. Do you hear what I am saying, Lois?”

She stares straight to the back of the house as a single tear rolls down her cheek.

“I’ve been fighting for you like hell, Lois, but I cannot fight for this. You. Will. Get. James’d. Do you hear me?” Simon’s voice goes from gruff to pleading as Lois wipes her face.

“I hear you, Bully,” she finally answers with a nod.

Simon’s face softens. “I’ll let you go home at sundown like a normal day.”

Lois snorts, “Don’t think that’ll get me James’d?”

“I can vouch for that easier than a whole day,” he scowls.

“Sorry to interrupt guys,” Becky knocks on the wall to be respectful. “Coffee’s ready. Rooms are done. I’m off to get Billy unless there’s something else y’all need.”

“I think we’re all squared away, sweetheart. Just say hi to Charity for me. Tell her she better be making Billy wait on her hand and foot or I’ll throw mine at him!”

Becky lets out a wash of bright laughter that lifts the tension.

“I knew you kept the rest of your leg,” Lois chuckles against her will.

“I’ll be sure to tell him, sir,” Becky laughs as she leaves.

Lois takes a deep breath. “What time is Falls flying in?”

“Eh, couple hours. We’ll hold the pilot until Norton gets in, that way Billy can go right out.”

“Fuel?”

“Probably not necessary. Falls has been making runs just to us recently. Too close to need to refuel here.”

Lois nods, already distracted. “Alright. Holler if you need anything.”

“10-4,” Simon replies with a little touch to the eyebrow and a quick turn of his chair.

The second floor was not nearly as comfortable as Simon’s first floor flat. To navigate through all the storage, you used a flashlight hanging by the landing. This allowed you to dig out the maps, logbooks, notebooks, and giant binder full of everything collected over the last decade of operations. Lois felt that if you were not a total idiot in the Driver’s Seat, there was no need for all this documentation. But before the Split, documentation was all Simon did, and you do not argue with Simon.

On her way around the corner to the next flight of stairs, she grabs a walkie talkie just in time to hear Simon’s long, drawn out “Loooooooiiiiiiiiissssssss…”

Lois dumps everything on the rear table to the sound of Simon complaining to Fender about Lois’ inattentiveness, followed by the unmistakable sound of a ball slapping the wall.

“Gonna die ignored, Fender. Won’t find me for days- ”

“Shut up, you old whiner,” Lois finally picks up the radio.

“Took too long, huh, boy? Thought she might have died in the stacks!” Another slap of the ball.

“Took too long because Bully has stupid rules!” Lois retorts.

“We don’t take bait, do we, Fendy? No we do not!”

Lois chuckles as she sits at the DS and boots everything up. “Did you actually need something?”

“Oh yeah,” the ball and following scramble of Fender’s chase grow distant. “Got word from Falls. Madam Fletcher is flying in about 0900. You know how she is, though.”

“Always beats her time somehow,” Lois shakes her head as she takes notes.

“Not like there are shortcuts in the sky!”

“Alright. That gives us an hour then. Becky on clearing?”

“Yep. She just got back with Billy.”

“Roger that,” Lois replies as the computer finds its cadence. She sighs at the sound of the first-floor door closing, not ready for the silence to break. The schedule taped to the desk sets Broadcast 1 at 8:30. Time is flying.

“Morning, mom!”

Lois turns in her seat and smiles at Billy coming in with two cups of coffee and the big goofy grin she has loved since he was a child playing with Titus.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” she says, giving him a big hug. “How is Charity?”

“She’s good, she’s good,” he grins, shoving his hands deep in his pants pockets and rounding his shoulders to consolidate his enormous frame.

“Still vomiting?”

“Naw, no, that all stopped second trimester. Yeah, my mom said that was likely to happen, so uh…yeah, we’re really good.”

Lois nods in rhythm with his nodding before throwing up her hands and saying, “Well! Time to get on! Gotta get these messages out before Fletch gets in.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course!” Billy quickly retreats with a wave.

“Good morning, Blackwood Station, this is Lois coming to you live from the Radio House. The date is January 8th, the time is 8:31, and we are expecting quite the busy day.”

By the time Lois takes the headset off and marks the last broadcast complete, the sun has set and the first floor living quarters is bustling with activity. With only the glow of the computer shutting down, she gathers her things and makes her way.

“Lois, it’s so good to see you!” Fletcher practically knocks her over with a tight hug.

“Hi, Nadia, you crazy girl,” Lois laughs.

“You just missed her. Charity came by with food for everyone,” Simon bellows over the chatter, clearly a few beers in.

“It’s been a long day, friends, I sort of just want –”

“Oh, Lois, come on!” Becky pleads, breaking off her conversation with Billy. “It’s already starting to snow!”

Lois sighs under all the expectant attention, but straightens in her polite resolve. “It’s been a long day and –”

There comes a knock at the door and silence falls on every head. Fletcher steps up and opens it to find the Norton courier with snow sticking to his winter gear.

“Norton Post, Officer Toby Davis, reporting to Blackwood Station Radio House 1 with an urgent message on chain from Zero.”

“Come on in, Officer Davis, it’s cold out there,” Simon grumbles.

“Thank you, sir.” Davis pulls out the leather folio containing all the documents. “To whom am I delivering this message?”

“Simon Sprunk, Radio House manager,” Simon answers. “Becky Stanton, Radio House secretary; Lois Terrence, Radio House technician; Officer Nadia Fletcher, Falls air-courier; and Officer William Court, Blackwood Station ground-courier.”

Davis finishes filling out a form before passing it to Fletcher. “Signatures from all witnesses,” he explains with a tired cough.

Once complete, he pulls out the official document and reads:

“Greetings to all citizens remaining here on North American territory. On December 11th, in year 10 of the Split, an official broadcast from Space Station Evolve was received. This broadcast serves to inform all few remaining citizens in the North American Territory of Earth that a Life-Pod is expected to land in the Mid-Atlantic coastal region on or about February 13th in year 10 of the Split. Aboard this Life-Pod are 15 citizens who voluntarily boarded and now voluntarily return to the abandoned planet. Do with them as you will.

“Signed, Captain Lyonel A. Tusk.”

Davis returns the documents to the folio.

“Billy,” Simon nods, indicating Billy to receive them. “Madam Fletcher?”

“Slept like a baby, sir, ready for take-off.”

“Becky, go make sure the runway is clear for takeoff. Officer Davis, make yourself at home. Lois, I need you on DS.”

Silence falls. They look around.

“Lois.” Simon repeats, checking the hall behind him, spotting the open back door slightly ajar. Pain seeps into his voice along with disappointment.

“Lois…”