Alone Surrounded by Endless Anarchy

short Short story Competition 2023

Brett began, “Where did you two meet?”

Taking a beat, I pause, allowing my mind to wander. They warned us. The experts. Again and again and again. Still, here we are, living on a planet in distress. It’s like aging. I pass a mirror and wonder, how the hell did that happen? I meet an old friend and wonder, silently, wow; they have not aged well. It just happens, entropy, we see it, we rationalize “singular” events, and act surprised when they repeat. Conceived long after the Milky Way formed, realize I will return to stardust. Remarkable as we are… we are insignificant.

Today is but a tick on our eternal clock. “Joe” died yesterday, half my age. Still, here I stand upon a clump of elements we call earth, home, a little-bit hotter, a little-bit colder, a little-drying, a little-wetter. Resources gone, irreplaceable, replaced by greed, tribalism, anger, war, tribulations. We are losing the battle to hubris. I was a teacher, then a tutor to the rich, a cook, a crook, now a survivor, wanted by the law, tomorrow a fragment of “dust” floating in space. Tick, tick, tick…

“We met amid endless anarchy. She worked as a ‘manager’ at the cafe in the barrio. I worked there occasionally, and it was there we connected. Spent free time together, sharing our passion for reading. We both had a secret cache of books, used by most for kindling, hidden. We read and talked and kept a low profile. For a moment, we circumvented reality.”

She looked so fine. Youthful. A smile that filled the room. Strawberry blonde, petite, seemingly joyful, even in these dark days. She projected a confidence that was inspirational. Sociable, yet mindful. Circumspective, careful to consider all outcomes.

Brett, tapping the table, shrugged, “and…?”

“So those with resources hired teachers as tutors to teach their children reading, math, but honestly little else. That provided a steady income.”

“Ashley worked as a waitress. When not teaching, I would do odd jobs in the pub. At the end of each day, we sat around enjoying each other’s company.”

“And…”

“Finally, shared a common space. We stayed in a studio on the second floor of the pub. Convenient, we worked and ate in the cafe. Room and board. No rent, room and meals exchanged for work.”

“Then…”

The air felt heavy as I continued, “And, you know, that old story, fall in love, eventually children added to the mix. First, a girl, Avery, then unexpectedly another, Aubrey.”

“I continued to tutor. Ashley worked tables, and sorta managed the shop. The world continued to crumble, as did the owner. I cooked when needed, mostly nights. The pub scraped by, profitable but struggling. When the owner died, Ashley became the possessor. Never sure who actually owned the building.”

Life, compared to most folks, was tolerable. We made due.

“Avery was the vivacious one, like her mom, while Aubrey, two years younger, introspective. Both fetching; strawberry blondes, brown eyes, pleasant to be around, capable of interacting with peers and adults. Literally home schooled. Eleven and thirteen years old when they went missing, kidnapped. That makes them… fourteen and sixteen. We did our best to isolate them from the craziness in the world.”

Images formed as I tried to picture them now, older, but unable. Their voices have faded. “The last contact was when you found me down the road at the old TCC site.”

Removing a card from my wallet shared, the last I have is the name, “Avery Tucker, looking for Jesse Tucker. Currently living in the valley.” Written in cursive.

“What did you find that night…?” Cord probed.

“The room trashed, my wife bruised/beaten…dead, and the girls gone.”

I hated this, recalling sounds and images.

“Any witnesses?”

“No, we had a private entrance. If someone knew anything, they never came forward.”

“Where were you that day?”

“That afternoon I was tutoring,”

Brett asked, “This is important. Who were you tutoring for, what time, and was there anything unusual?”

“Been a long time,” I sat thinking. “It was one of the local landowners, Mr. Eldridge, a couple of miles out of town, mid-afternoon. Normally, I tried to schedule tutoring sessions in the morning. Or maybe… definitely the afternoon, the sun was low in the sky, and I recall wanting to get home soon, before the evening dinner rush. Dinner rush, that is a bit of an exaggeration. Still. Later than usual. The sun was setting. The name of the ranch, Luna A Ranch? Crown E Ranch? I remember it was north of town.”

In the background voices of folks now filled the silence, going about their daily business. The sounds of birds, now rare. We now hide in what we call the Well, home. One of hundreds of self-sufficient collectives. The world fractured. Our community fractured, but for now within this compound we appear able to maintain a functional union, for now, a common cause around which to immix for the moment. A precarious balance, an ounce of trust… a pound of skepticism.

“What else can you remember?”

Irritated, I sigh, “I arrived at dust, walked up the wooden steps, and noticed the door ajar. I walked in. The room was dark. Calling out saw my wife… there in the remaining light, found her, laying on the bed, unresponsive, the room tossed… sorry… for weeks that visual haunted me, she was…, the girls gone.”

“Tossed? How tossed, be specific,” Cord asked.

Closed my eyes visualizing, “Chairs overturned, a few drawers opened, stuff on the counter top askew, books once on the table thrown on the floor, pages fluttering in the breeze, closet left open, clothes missing, just thing out of place.”

Look around, “Other than your daughters, clothes, anything else missing?”

“We had few items worth much. There was a jar of loose change… the money gone. Next to the change container, a ceramic mug holding various writing materials, pencils, used pens, also gone…, beyond that stuff, scattered.”

As I relived that moment, my chest tightened, odium aroused. So many emotions are stuffed, now resurface. I had worked for years to compartmentalize those images, feelings. My head spinning. No one claimed to have seen or heard anything. A sign of the times. Humanity obliterated, and local law officers were never helpful, indifferent, or bribed. Compassion now diminished, replaced by evil.

“Think, the day before that day, even the next day, week, anything unusual, anyone whose behavior caught your attention? Details.”

“It’s been over two years… A month later, heard a rumor that the Eldridge sons had moved the cattle north to some ranch in… Wyoming… Montana…?”

“The older child, Max, was not all that academic,” actually looking back. “He left the tutoring session early, claimed he had some chores to complete. The other two, more interested in learn’in, stayed and continued to ask questions, engaged until it was time to leave. Collected my due, mounted and spurred my horse homeward.”

The sun fully set; darkness encompasses the land. Images are now painful. It will be hours, if not days, before I can push away these newly exposed feelings.

Brett breaks the silence. “We’ll be gone for a couple of days. Maybe as long as a week. Tell no one. Will return with either with good news, no news, or bad news. We’ll be back.”

“One last question, no witnesses, so why was she not at work that afternoon?”

Thinking, “She worked mostly early mornings and into the afternoons. She would have been off work by late afternoon.”

Addison, another member of our clique, a friend, sat nearby, listening intently. Sadness enveloped her. Speechless. “I’m sure the guys will locate them.” She stood and excused herself. “I need to…”

A friend. Today, in these times, you have partnerships, not relationships. I have constructed a wall about my heart, vowing never to feel the pain of losing another.

Everyone dispersed, leaving me with my thoughts. Now, sitting alone, feeling abandoned, just my memories keeping me company.

I waited. Each morning, wondering is this the day? Each evening, thinking, they are no more.

Hope is invisible, intangible, a cruel joke. Until.

The sun was setting; I felt a chill in the air; I heard thunder crackling in the distance. I froze as they approached. Searching their body language for a hint in each step. A reassuring look?

Brett and Cord have returned as promised, both looking worn. Addison a step behind, approaching, unwilling to make eye contact. Brett sighs, “Here’s what we know although…, you will not find the news pleasing.”

I heard their words, sounds hanging in the wind, “Your older child has known your whereabouts for months, living in the village below.”

“Your younger child is but a mile away. Married the regional governor, who has placed a bounty on your head.”

“Both filled with loathing, a deep-seated enmity.”

Head down… I walked away.

Alone.