Onaria flew to the door of the house, the once-white paint a peeling gray. She gave it a solid thump and didn’t wait for a reply before shoving inside. By the time he’d followed, she’d run through the house yelling her aunt’s name.
He found her standing in the kitchen, the cupboards clearly ransacked.
“She’s dead.” A statement spoken dully.
All he could do was hug her as she sobbed, her grief soaking his shoulder. As he stroked her hair, his mind furiously worked, wondering how they’d survive. They’d expected to arrive at a home with at least a modicum of food. Whoever had buried Onaria’s aunt didn’t leave anything to waste. If they buried her. He preferred to not think of the alternative.
By the time Onaria stopped sobbing, night had fallen.
“I’ll boil some water.” Because it was the only thing he could think of. The fluid from the tap didn’t emerge as gray as that in the city. The joys of being on a well. Filling a pot, he set it on the stove and headed outside, examining the yard with a critical eye.
“What are you looking for?” Onaria said from behind in a voice still wobbly from her grief.
“Something to make tea with.” He crouched down and pulled at some wilted leaves on a plant that belonged, at one time, to a garden.
“You don’t want to use that.”
Frustrated, he tossed it and scrubbed his face and hair. “What are we going to do?” There was nothing for them here. The air was fresher, but for how long? Judging by the foliage around, the taint was already here.
“Oh, Jool.” She hugged him, the woman grieving offering him comfort. “We’ll be fine. Come.”
She tugged him by the hand and led him to a pile of wood. He eyed it and said, “You want to build a fire?”
“That would be nice and cozy, but I’m more interested in this.” Crouching down, she grabbed the knotted protrusion on a log at the very bottom of the pile.
“Don’t pull on that, you’ll—” The warning about toppling the pile was never finished, as the entire stacked heap lifted on a hydraulic hinge, revealing a ladder leading down into a hole.
“Say hello to Auntie’s secret cellar. It used to be where my uncle brewed his wine and beer, but when he died, Auntie began filling it with food.” She descended the ladder, and he saw a light flare as she lit something.
He peered over the edge and saw a larger room than expected, lined with shelves and jars. So many jars of canned edibles.
They wouldn’t die of starvation. He almost cried in relief.
They ate by candlelight, toasting the aunt he’d never met, filling their bellies properly for the first time in ages. Later perhaps, they’d be more careful about rationing, but for the moment, it felt nice to ease the gnawing inside.
Then they spent the evening listening to the radio. The announcer had only dire things to tell. After a while, they turned it to a channel that played music. Neither really talking. Even here, they couldn’t completely escape reality.
The following day, with nothing better to do, he went into the yard and stared at the mountains, remembering the suggestion he actually explore them. In the light of day, it seemed impossible.
The edge of them began abruptly, jagged thrusts of rock emerging from the ground as if punched through the crust of the earth. They formed a veritable wall that, once scaled, led to another ridge of stone, then another. Nothing grew in any of the crevices. Not even a tiny bit of moss.
Craning his head, he noted the peaks of the mountains remained hidden by the smog. He wondered if they still held snow as the books claimed. Even if they did, he’d wager it wasn’t the pristine kind you could eat but the grayish version that meant the pollution found it and stuck.
Onaria joined him, wearing a cardigan of her aunt’s, yet the biting wind had her hugging herself. “Impressive, aren’t they?”
“Very. Have you ever climbed them?”
She shook her head. “Auntie would have had my hide. Besides, there’s nothing to see.”
He noticed a network of bells strung across the outcropping, with more bells dangling over the top rim of the fence.
He pointed. “What is that?”
“Warning system.” A wide gaze on his part led to Onaria laughing. “Sometimes the things that live past the stone get hungry.”
He blinked. “But Geoff said—”
She interrupted. “That nothing is alive?” She snorted. “Geoff is a government official, and their standard line is nothing to see, move along.”
“But if there are animals, then that must mean there’s some sort of food.”
“Does it?” She arched a brow. “Maybe once upon a time there was, but I should mention that Auntie hasn’t had a bell go off since I was a little girl. Whatever lived in those mountains is probably long dead, too. The calamity that struck the farms and few forests might have taken longer to hit out here at the edge of civilization, but it would be foolish to think there’s salvation amongst those peaks.”
As he gazed upon them, it was almost as if he could hear a voice, a whisper really, urging him to check out the mountains. Not being the brave type of explorer that existed in adventures, Jool turned away from them. Onaria was right. There was nothing amidst those rocks.
Besides, he had everything he needed right here. A roof over his head, food, and Onaria, the woman he loved.
If only he had the words to say what was in his heart. But the moment he thought about telling Onaria how he felt, his mouth dried up, his heart raced, and he couldn’t speak.
It was while they sat on the porch that night, staring at the stars seen through a thin film, that she coughed. Not the first time. She’d had a few tiny fits on the train, as had he.
This time proved more than a gentle expelling of breath. She hacked, her entire body spasming as she heaved and choked. By the time she finished, she gasped for air and couldn’t hide the blood she’d captured on her sleeve.
“How long?” he asked quietly.
“The blood started only yesterday,” she replied.
“And you didn’t tell me.”
Her shoulders rolled. “I didn’t know how. I hoped…” She trailed off, but she didn’t need to finish. She’d hoped that the fresher air might extend her time.
But as with everything else in their lives, they weren’t so lucky. A bomb ticked inside her, which was why there was no time to waste.
He slid to a knee, and her mouth rounded. “Jool, what are you doing?”
Clasping both her hands in his, he rushed through the words he’d been thinking on for some time. Cursing himself for lacking the bravery before to say them. “You and I have been friends for a long time. And I’ve cherished our moments together. But I want more than just friendship, Onaria. Marry me.”
“I’m dying, Jool.”
“We all are. Which is why we shouldn’t waste a moment. I love you, Onaria. For whatever time we have left, be my bride.”
She blinked at him. “Who will marry us?”
“We will. The sun in the sky shall be our witness. The wind shall hear our vows. Please, Onaria, be my wife.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and she nodded before managing a blubbery, “Yes. Oh, Jool, I love you, too.”