The gray sky wept for him as he headed home. Normally he would have the radio on or a playlist of his own blaring over the speakers but now he just kept the windows down and let the water drip onto his arm. Parking the white sedan, he shuffled towards the second story apartment with growing dread. The realization that there would be no one there hung over him, settling a weight onto his chest and shoulders. He turned the key and entered. The rooms seemed too warm. Too still. Colin kept his mask on and began wiping down every surface, from his desk next to the door to the kitchen, to the bathroom. With the day not even halfway done he stood in front of the door to Beth's room. The drawings that she had made and taped to the door stared out at him with the same innocent joy that his daughter had always held.
He grabbed a fist full of trash bags and entered.
Bed sheets, stuffed animals of forgotten origin, dirty clothes that he had never had the heart to force her to clean up... he ruthlessly suppressed any thought as he bagged it all and sanitized the room. His mask felt like it was constricting his breath. Like it was wet, limp, and filthy beyond his mind's ability to comprehend it. He ignored it and took everything out to the dumpsters. It took longer than he had expected before the room was bare. The traces of the life lived in the room were all but gone.
All that was left were the childish doodles on the wall that had been hidden by Beth's bed. Colin had kept the family in the apartment for close to a decade so that Beth could stay in the decent schools that the area offered, as well as trying but failing to save money to upgrade to a real house. Colin stared at the drawings left by his daughter years before. Finally it hit home. Tearing off the mask, Colin stumbled to the bathroom and threw up. After what felt like everything that had ever crossed his lips was gone he cried. As the light from the setting sun came down the hallway to the west he vaguely wondered if the tears would stop even if he died in that spot.
-o0o-
May 12th, 2020
Colin had finished packing. His job, which had gone remote at the start of the lockdowns, had offered a skimpy severance package just to cut costs. That had been an easy choice after the two days of bereavement that had been offered. As an energy analyst Colin would work through the numbers for a business and use the amount of power and water used day by day to track business, then compare those numbers to the revenue for the day to try and help clients know what kinds of upgrades to their sites would be cost-effective. His boss had decided that keeping Colin around after the second requested leave of absence in a month wasn't cost-effective.
Cashing out his 401k, along with the money remaining from the life insurance his wife had left (minus the massive chunk that the insurance company and hospital had claimed) he had found a long-term Air BnB in the woods far to the north of town. He had some clothes, the piles of books that his wife had bought (and he never found the time to read), a double barreled shotgun, his laptop, and as much rice and dried food as he could fit alongside the propane canisters that he might have to rely on for his cooking.
One last look at the apartment left the same dull ache that living there provided. He locked the door and headed down the stairs. He had already cleared the fridge, cleaned the last of the dishes, and left a note for the property managers that he was abandoning his lease. With the world in the state that it seemed to be sliding towards? Colin figured that it was even odds that no one would care either way.
The Toyota headed north, taking the back roads across the farms and orchards just beyond the line of hills that defined the boundary of the city. The sun was out and the streaming white clouds made for an idyllic scene as he moved with the small number of other cars on the road. The lockdown was at least keeping most of the traffic clear, even if it seemed like every second car that *was* on the road was sporting political slogans or massive flags. Colin ignored them as part of the scenery even as they swerved recklessly, waved flags, and honked as if he gave a shit.
The tiny town of Deer Park provided a spot to pick up a bunch of booze and fresh meat as Colin drove further out. He ignored the looks and mutters from the locals about his mask before filling the front seat of the overloaded sedan with the latest purchases. Now the farms were separated by thick bands of pine forest, often orange or brown from several years of drought. Turning to the west, a pair of tiny towns went by along with a little lake. The road went up into the hills, past taxidermy signs and collections of 2-3 trailers surrounded by ruined husks of cars. A long driveway curved out of sight to the right. This was where his GPS told him to turn, so he headed up the gravel path. The path circled around a granite outcropping and the small cabin came into view, dark brown stain and white trim, along with a panorama of the verdant valley and the creek running through it below. There was a hot tub under a gazebo facing the valley, along with a large outdoor freezer which was connected to a separate set of solar panels. Even if power went out, he would have some way to protect perishable food.
After having moved his belongings inside, he searched around. The place was simple, with rustic decor and a few sets of antlers along with a TV linked to an old satellite dish and a DVD player. There was a fireplace, an electric stove, and a propane generator off to the side of the building as well as a well-maintained barbeque grill. Colin cautiously checked the grill for wasps. It had only taken one childhood encounter with a hive of those little bastards living in a grill to make him cautious for the rest of his life. It proved to be bastard-free and he breathed a sigh of relief. The food and booze were stored. His meager stash of clothes was put away.
Colin cracked open a beer and sighed. He still wasn't sure what compelled him to come out here. He knew that there was no way that he could stay in the cursed space that his family had once lived in, but pretending that he could just live on the edge of the wilds forever was a pipe dream. His money would run out eventually, even at the reduced rates that the pandemic had encouraged for this little place. He was out of work and had no idea if anything could ever motivate him to return to any office, let alone one where his niche skills could be used. He would have to see if there was some kind of gig work that he could perform, either as a contractor or remotely. His mind crept along the edges of the mundane, the beer grew warm without him drinking it.
Everything he was doing was just... drifting. Avoiding the maelstrom that he knew would consume him sooner or later. All it would take would be one slip, one memory from the depths of his mind and he knew that he would do something stupid. The sun eventually descended beyond the western side of the valley, the shadows of the far ridge eclipsing the light well before it would actually set at this time of year. Colin downed his now bathwater warm beer before heading back inside. Like everything else... there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
-o0o-
The next few weeks settled into a routine. He would drive the 30 or so miles from the cabin back into Deer Park. There were a few smaller towns in between, but he wasn't in the mood to deal with the groups of paranoid rednecks who were consistently congregating at the general stores and gas stations in all of them. Over the last 15 years, he had spent plenty of time in low end jobs, college degree basically ignored as he and his wife Raina did their best to get by. He knew white trash looking for trouble.
So he went to the bigger town on the main highway to go through the steadily decreasing selection of fresh meat and veggies. Made small talk with the older staff working and commiserated with the complaints about all the high school age help flaking out and ghosting their jobs in town. After the second weekly visit there was a group of men outside the store. One of them had a bullhorn and all of them were open carrying. Colin kept a wary eye on them as they were the definition of "Gravy Seals." None of them were in shape and the trigger discipline they showed told him that everyone was lucky that the safety had been invented.
Once back at the cabin he spent a good three or four hours a day wandering the trails, rain or shine. This had led to three afternoons where he was forced to find shelter from the early summer storms that popped up in the afternoons in and around the valleys of north-eastern Washington. The wind and rain pushing him around seemed to sooth his soul, at least for as long as it lasted. Evenings were slow dinners when he could force himself to eat... which wasn't every night. Grief had tempered his dad bod slightly, though Colin told himself that he was unlikely to ever get back his university six pack. The lack of close contact also resulted in his hair continuing to grow somewhat out of control. Until the start of the year, his habit had been to keep his hair cut quite short. When the lock downs began he had missed the last chance to get it trimmed. The result was a mass of dark red curls that would have made any of his female relatives jealous if he were still in touch with them.
He also hadn't bothered to keep his beard more than trimmed, leaving a surprisingly dense covering of wiry copper across his jaw and upper lip. Raina had loved the look of the beard when they first met, but hated the feel of it. She had quickly convinced him that he would rather have her enjoy kissing than looking. Sitting and watching nature was fine, but after he finished the collection of books he had brought Colin felt restless. He thought back to his family daily. Sometimes he even avoided sobbing or screaming until the echos of his pain filled the valley around him. As he poked through the job listings in his email, he paused over a subscription notification. Raina didn't like reading but loved stories, so she had consumed audio books like no one else Colin had met. She had even teased him more than a few times that he should start recording. He had called her biased. But staring at the account that had expired after Raina's card was declined made him wonder. Could he sustain living like a hermit, away from his pain, if he tried to record books?
