One Fine Night

Title: One Fine Night
Word count: 4,951
Author: Tim Wilkinson

Published in "The Path" Volume 2, number 2,

Winter 2012

One Fine Night

Tim Wilkinson

"I don't know if I can," Wayne said, his evident reluctance tainting his voice with a hint of the adolescent shyness and irrational fear behind it. "We're all dying here, bit by bit. I know that. And we've all had to do things we wouldn't have even considered a year ago. But I'm not sure if I have the courage for that."

"Why? You chicken?"

"Like a bantam hen."

"It's a fine night for dying Wayne. Don't be such a coward. You know, everything ever done was first a thing untried."

"Wow, when did you become such a sage," Wayne chided.

"When the lights went out, that's when," parried his friend, Dale.

"That was over a year ago Dale. Why the sudden spark of wisdom? You a slow learner or something?"

"No, just a deep thinker," answered Dale with good-humored sarcasm, "You do know Wayne, that everything that happens, has happened or will happen, is because of something that came before."

"You mean you believe that everything happens for a reason or by some divine providence, or that everything and everyone is predestined to one future or another?"

"Hell no. I mean, I would like to believe that, and I try to sometimes...but mostly I can't. Besides, that's not the point. No, let's be clear here. What I am not saying, is that life or history is controlled by some grand script or the divine directions of some hallowed conductor from which there is no deviation, individuality, or choice. That's not at all what I am trying to tell you. What I am saying is this; that everything is connected, especially when it comes to history."

"History is linear, a straight unbroken line like a single lane highway where you can't get to point C without first passing point B. There are no passing lanes and no shortcuts. Sometimes you get to cross the bridge first, at other times you have to wait your turn. And sometimes you have to move off the road or get smashed. But regardless of where you enter the highway, once you pass point B it's only a matter of time before you arrive at point C. And point C always comes round. There is no standing still. And it's only a matter of time. Because even if you aren't moving forward, the road is moving backwards. Well, I think it's like that for you and Vickie. Not that it's meant to happen, I mean you and her, or in some way ordained or fated, but that it should, or rather that it will happen because of what has gone before, and because of where we are now, the we being you and her. Yet mostly because, B follows A, C follows B, and D comes every bit as fast as C fades away into rearview mirror. It just makes sense, don't you see? Let me give you a little example, one that I know you can relate to.

"Okay, shoot Mr. Misto."

"We would not be sitting here if not for the Great Depression."

"Oh really! How so is that, Great Swami?"

"Think of it, Wayne. If the Great Depression had never happened and this country and its people had not gone through the hard times and turmoil it saw in the twenties, thirties, and forties, then our recent Governments would never have bailed out the banks or the auto industry after 2008. And the falsely named 'Stimulus Packages,' would have never lined the pockets of our...leaders buddies and their wives, the social security system wouldn't have been depleted, and generation after generation of wastrels, slackers, and bums would not have been born expecting and receiving everything for free. And if this country had never produced the hundreds of millions of the appropriately named, 'Entitlement Bums,' or EB's, that began the whole pathetic cycle of borrow and spend to pay off and buy their votes, all that followed would never have happened, as least not as it has. Therefore, it goes without saying that this country would not have gone broke as it did, the economy would not have collapsed, and consequently the EB's would not have run rampant, burning, looting and killing everyone in sight because the welfare, food stamps, and the hundreds of other freebies suddenly stopped.

My God Wayne, think what this country might have been if Roosevelt had not initiated his, 'New Deal,' and all his social reforms, or Johnson his, 'Great Society,' not because they choose not to, but because they didn't need to; and they didn't need to because we never fell on ur face, economically that is. So you see, with Roosevelt came the consummation, Johnson the conception, and with the incompetence, greed, and lust of the Clintons, and the outright hatred of the Obama's for anything American, decent or worthwhile, bingo the EB's were born, born, raised, promoted, and loosed upon the nation that made them. So you see, all of these policies and their pathetic legacies were the direct result of the crash of twenty-nine. And simply put, if nineteen twenty-nine had never happened, I mean as it did. And without that past knowledge and experience; without the memory of all the individual suffering of the common man as well as that of the lazy, perverse elite, that the market and banking failure caused, our so-called leaders would very likely have let the banks fail the economy crash, and America would have fallen face down into her first, 'Great Depression,' in 2008 instead of 1929."

"Then again, who knows? It's just as likely that without all the 'live for free', mentality and all the 'support the useless by taxing the worthy,' legislation, and because the EB's would not yet have been so addicted to all the freebies, handouts, and community chest cards, and had therefore not yet discovered that a bunch of self-declared victims, if banded together through a complacent, guilt-ridden Democracy could change the world; this may not have happened for another seventy-five years---or more. And what if? What if they had not discovered that all it takes to change the course of world history is to get out of bed, put the crack pipe down, and zip your dick back up once every four years and vote for more and more of the same curtain hanging, welfare dealing, wussies? I mean you simply cannot deny the fact that if we had not, as a nation, created the EB's in the first place, they wouldn't be killing us now. And if not for them who can say where we might be today as a country, and as individuals? Instead, here we are, dead and dying cause that big ole letter E just wasn't as far down the road as we thought it was."

"Either way Wayne, I can assure you that had it not been for 1929, you and I would not be here having this discussion, because the whole playing field would be different, changed by the exclusion of that one, singular event, that one moment in time. And that's just one of a thousand examples I could cite to show you how one thing always leads to another, or not. Yet regardless of how that fantasy may have played out, here we are. And despite what comes next, for you, for me, or for what's left of this burned out cinder of a country, and no matter what may develop or not, between you and Vickie, things are as they are and will remain so until they change. What will be, will be. And if not for all that has passed, including if you will forgive me, what happened to your wife, we would not be talking right now about a you, about a Vickie, and damn sure not about the odds of you getting into her pants."

"Wow, Kay-Sarah Sarah. That's pretty heavy Einstein. You and Doris Day should write a book sometime. Now back to the basics for a minute if you don't mind. So what makes you think Vickie would have anything to do with me anyway?"

"That's Que Sera Sera', retorted Dale, spelling it out slowly.

"Stop showing off Asshole."

Laughing loudly, Dale answered. "Sorry, it's just so easy sometimes. Yet since you asked, my answer is this...Why not you? You have food, guns, lots of ammunition, and a tent that don't leak. Your pants got no holes in them and hell Wayne, you ain't such a bad looking guy if I may say so myself. What more could a modern girl want in a---lover", he finished, his smug expression proving how greatly amused with himself he truly was.

"Okay I get it, last fish in the barrel and all that, right? But really Dale, I'm serious---why me? She's so...Hell, you know what she is, fucking hot."

"Wayne, you have to cast off all the trappings of what was. That's all gone, finished, caput! Gone like the cities, the paychecks, and the grocery stores. It's all gone! So what if a year ago a girl like Vickie would have had nothing to do with a working stiff like you. Look around Wayne. What's left for her to choose from? No, my friend, you have suddenly become very desirable, lover boy. So get over it. And if you ask me you're both just damn lucky as hell to have escaped before the EB's hit the streets. So accept it and make the best of it while you still can."

"Yeah, I guess we are all sort of lucky...lucky in some odd, fucked up sort of way."

"Yes, you are. We all are. When the checks and the freebies stopped the EB's came, cause what they can't have for free they take by force. That's what they do, and we trained them to do it. You know that most folks did not escape and that their corpses still line the streets. And the rest, those that weren't murdered outright, are slaves Wayne. And that's a kind way of putting it. Don't you remember Louisiana Wayne, The Gulf States, and the East Coast, Baltimore, New York, and Missouri? I could go on. What we are living through today is nothing new, only on a far grander scale. You two escaped, why? I don't have a clue. Perhaps it's because B always leads to C."

Yes, I remember all of that Dale. How could I not? But, fuck! Oh, never mind; you and your damn politics and intellectual mumbo jumbo. You make my head hurt. Sides, I gotta go. We'll talk later, Okay? A couple of EB's came up the road last night. They got an old man and his granddaughter. They gutted him and took her for...well you know what for. Anyway, they've doubled the guard in case any EB's get the idea that there are more easy pickings just up the road. Tonight's my turn."

"Yeah, I heard. And yes, I do know. I just hope she dies fast. That's about all we can hope for."

"Guess you're right, poor thing, and only twelve years old."

"Like I said Wayne, take a little happiness where you can find it, there is so damned little
of it around these days. Take my advice, if Vickie wants you, take her."

"Sure, I know you're right, I do. Guess I'm just a little..."

"Sceered?"

"No! Well...Hell yes, actually! I am sceered, damn scared.  Wouldn't you be?"

"Damn straight I would be, scared and downright fucking happy. Wayne, let me tell you something. I've been scared every day for over a year now. Happy? No, I can't remember happy. But now you have a chance to find a little of your own. Take it. Just don't rub it in and make me jealous. And please...please, tell me all about it. I want details man, details..."

"Dale it's not only that. Sure, I am a bit scared. You know how it is. I haven't been with a woman for a while now. And it's not quite been a year since---since Shelia."

"I know Wayne. You know I do. You also know that there is not a single soul here who hasn't lost someone, someone important to them, someone special. We've all lost so much, family and friends, husbands, wives, and children, our sense of safety, of peace, and hope. Yet we must move on. We live or we die Wayne. That's our only choice. And if you ask me, both you and Vickie have earned a little peace, no pun intended."

"Roger that", answered Wayne, turning to walk away, a long-barreled gun propped over one shoulder. "Sleep light Dale. Don't let the EB's bite. See ya soon---I hope."

"Night Wayne. Aim straight. Thrust hard. Shoot slow," finished Dale, chuckling loudly.

* * *

Soon after Wayne reached the improvised barricade that circled the top of the wide, flat plateau and the one asphalt road that lead up to it, he took his position a few yards to the left of his regular post and settled in for his shift.

He'd been in place no more than a few minutes when hearing someone approaching from his rear, their steps crunching loudly in the newly accumulated piles of dried leaves, he turned to see Vickie walking towards his position with obvious care, something small and black held firmly within her slight hands. Watching her move in the dim light, aided by an occasional flickering flame or flashing explosion in the distance, he found himself struck by how truly beautiful she was.

Her hair hung soft about her shoulders, its color a sort of dirty, darkish blond. Her eyes, hazel or perhaps a kind of light, summer sky blue, or jade toned, translucent green, seemed somehow able to capture what light there was, amplifying and reflecting it back even in the dark and gloom of a cloudy, moonlit night. Although she was not what many would have considered classically beautiful, she was in a very feminine and alluring sort of way a natural, innocent beauty. She certainly needed no makeup, a fact Wayne had often seen the proof of, which considering the circumstance was a definite plus. She stood about the same height as Wayne, or just under, slim, fit and some years younger; he now in his early fifties while she no more than her early to mid-thirties. Her breasts, he remembered from the spring when she mostly wore short shorts and V-necked blouses, were small yet quite shapely, and by all reckoning plump, uplifted, and firm. Wayne often found it a pleasant exercise to while away the long hours at his post imagining them unbound, airy and free. In addition, she walked as a woman should, her step light, her movements lithe, supple, and curvaceous. Her voice rang high, sweet and kind. And even while bundled in the thick, cold weather layers of jackets, jeans, and sweaters, she cut a nice swath.

"Coffee?" she asked stepping to his side.

"Coffee!" said Wayne, not feigning his actual surprise. "Where on earth did you get coffee?"

"Well it ain't real coffee, just brewed Holley leaves. You know the little trees that have all the red berries. They grow all over this place. Daddy roasts them and mixes them with a bit of dried dandelion root. They make a fine, dark tea. It isn't so bad really and it's hot and black. Some say it even has caffeine in it. I don't really know, not much of a tea drinker myself, but I guess I've kind of grown used to it. Here try it. Hope you like it."

"Wow, I'm sure glad you and your Pa know so much about the plants and such round here, you both been a real blessing to us all."

"Thanks for saying so," she said blushing.

"Makes me remember times when I was young, picking the wild, spring onions to fry up with the sausage and eggs, or gathering the possum grapes, persimmons, and Osage plums from the side of the roads. I used to make a sort of pink lemonade tea from the furry haired berries of the Red Sumac bushes. Not sure how I learned that one. But I never heard of this."

"Yeah, it's funny what one learns, and why. Guess all them camping trips weren't a total waste of time."

"No, I should say not."

Taking the black, metallic cup from Vickie's grasp and relishing its quickly waning heat, Wayne guardedly wrapped both hands tightly around its sides before raising it to his lips, sipping slowly as the soothing warmth flooded his mouth, the taste, acrid, a bit bitter, yet lightly sweet and good.

"Wow, is that cream...and sugar?"

"Honey and powdered milk, from the C rations. Daddy don't take cream in his coffee and the honey And...well I thought you might like it is all.

"Umm, I do. That was thoughtful of you, I mean...Thanks for thinking of me."

"Oh, sure, You shouldn't be so surprised though. I been thinking a lot about you lately", she answered, blushing anew. "About you and me."

"Oh really? Why?" He answered, fishing for an opening."

"Why? Must I say it? Don't you know?"

"No, you don't have to say anything. I'm just chattering like a fool. Still kind of nervous I guess, kind of hopeful too."

"Hopeful?" Me too. And I got to tell you, I've really enjoyed talking with you lately and all. Seems we've gotten to know each other pretty well these last few months."

"Yeah, I feel the same. It's nice having a woman around, especially one so...so pretty."

"Really Wayne? You think I'm pretty?"
"No...not really", he said pausing for effect, before smiling. "I think you're beautiful Vickie."

"Thank you. You are sweet. I just...I just wish..."

"What Vickie? What do you wish?"

 "It's---It's just that we are here, you and I. Who knows for how much longer...And...and I get lonely and, afraid."

Hearing gunshots from below and to their front, they both sunk a bit lower behind the barricade, looking out at the muzzle flashes breaking the darkness at the edges of the city beyond.

"We all get afraid Vickie. That's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I guess so, and it's not that I'm ashamed Wayne, God knows that. It's just that...Oh, why do I find this so difficult?"

"Difficult?"

"Yes, difficult. I feel like a school girl with a crush, and that ain't like me."

"Things have changed Vickie. Our world has changed. We've changed. I know I have."

"Yes, I know...But, have you, Wayne? Have you really changed? I do wonder?"

"Why. Does that surprise you?"

"Yes, I mean no...What I mean is that I think you must have always been who you are now. I can't picture you any other way than sweet and gentle and...Oh, Wayne! When will they stop the killing?"

Not wanting to change the direction of the conversation, yet fearing what boyish idiocy may spill from his lips, Wayne responded. "I suspect when there is no one left to kill. Sides, they're probably getting sort of short on food by now, turning on each other."

"Think they will start, you know, like in those movies...eating each other?"

"Yes, I suppose they will soon as winter sets in...if they haven't already."

"Have you killed a man Wayne?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I have."

"Afraid?"

"You know what I mean. Not something I'm really proud of, but... "

"But what Wayne."

"Well, when I was young I killed a rabbit. I didn't like it. It cried, like a baby it did. And the look of fear and pain in its eyes. So I never did it again. I don't like killing Vickie. No, I never was much of a hunter when I was young, but I took down a deer just last week and was glad to do it. But to kill a man. I never wanted to kill anyone, anything. I still don't. But I must do what I must. I have my beliefs Vickie, and these days that's not easy, or popular. Yet I believe killing is wrong. It's wrong except when it's right. And it is right to defend good people and those that you love. It is right to fight for good and against evil. We didn't start this war Vickie, and I may not make it or survive to see whatever crumb of a future there may remain. But I will not lie down and watch people like Dale, and you and the children die or be enslaved. I will not! No, I have lost enough without a fight. No more, no more."

"Why do they do it, Wayne? I mean all the killing and the burning. Don't they know folks just want to live?"

"Vickie, I wish I could answer that. I can't. But I often think that we can't really blame them. I mean, think about it. If you had lived you're whole life thinking of yourself as a victim, living off another man's back, never learning how to or having to fend for yourself, just sucking up what you were handed out; and then suddenly that man turned off the honey spout, told you to take care of yourself from now on and left you to die, wouldn't you get angry?"

"But we didn't do it. It was the Politicians, the President, and frankly I think that they did it to themselves. All we did was pay for the...the honeypot as you put it."

"Doesn't matter who did it. They have to turn on someone and there is no one here but us. Professional victims always have to have someone to blame things on, otherwise they'd have to blame themselves, take responsibility for their own actions, or lack of them, and that's not likely to happen, certainly not now."

"Where do you think he is now, the President I mean?"

If I had to guess I'd say Monaco, South of France, or some Mediterranean villa or Spanish castle, living the high life on a few trillion in stolen gold and laughing his smug little head off."

"Yeah, I bet your right. Wayne? May I ask you something else, something a bit more personal?"

"Sure, shoot."

"You ever been in love. I mean, really in love?"

"Sure, of course, I have."

"What happened to her?"

"Same as the rest."

"You mean the EB's got her?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too. But thanks all the same."

"Do you miss her?" she asked.

"Every day, sometimes more than others. What I mean is...just staying alive keeps me pretty busy. I don't have much time to think about it, or her, and when I do...well, I just try not to is all."

"I understand."

"I try to tell myself that she was one of the lucky ones."

"Lucky? How?"

"Yeah, lucky...in some odd, fucked up sort of way. You see she was grocery shopping that day, you know, when the President was on television, telling us that the country was broke and the checks and all were stopping."

"Yeah?"

"Well, she never made it home. They got her as she was leaving. Shot her in the head for a bag of groceries. She died fast and they didn't...you know. She still had all of her clothes on when I found her. But that was before they started taking people and..."

"Oh Wayne", added Vickie, trembling as if she might cry."

"Vickie, that was a long time ago. Many people lost a lot more than a wife. Look at Dale. He lost a wife, three kids, his parents, and everyone he'd ever known. Like I said, I guess I been pretty lucky. I mean lucky that we had no children and that she died so easy, that is. As for my parents, well I never really had any if you know what I mean, and they...they weren't around anyway, so I never had to see them, die."

"Yes, I do. I do know what you mean, but still."

"How-bout you Vickie? I mean, you ever been in love, married or anything?"

"Married? No. In love, well sort of. I mean I had boyfriends enough and all, you know. Like you said, things were different then. I figured I would marry one of them, someday, but it just didn't happen. And after the riots started and the EB's and all, they just all sort of disappeared, like everyone else did. They had no choice really. We all know what happened to the ones that stayed and made a stand of it, and...you know how it is. I don't know if they're dead or just holed up someplace like we are. Suppose I never will."

"No, I suppose not. Did you love them? I mean one of them... I mean..."

"Shhhh", she replied, giggling. I know what you mean. Don't worry, I'm not going to be offended. Like I said, things were different then. "

"Okay, I'm sorry. But do you, did you, love them? Do you miss them, I mean your boyfriends?"

"No. I don't really. I liked them of course, some really well. But I can't honestly say that I loved any one of them, or that I miss them much. But yes, there are things I do miss, very, very much."

"Really? Like what?"

"Wayne," asked Vickie, shaking slightly and putting one hand atop his. "Must you really ask?"

"No I...Hey, your cold?" he sputtered nervously, feeling a slight tremor in her hand.

"No...No, it's not the cold. It's...Wayne?"

"Umm," he mumbled. "Yes?"

"Will you kiss me dammit? Please! I need someone to kiss me! That's what I miss. Someone to hold me, to kiss me, to tell me I'm beautiful, to tell me everything will be ok." She said softly as she began to weep. "Damn, I'm sorry! I haven't cried in a long time. Why now?"

Suddenly aware of growing warmth deep within, scared and frightened, touched by a deep sense of compassion and suppressed longing, Wayne answered, "Can't think of much I'd like better."

"Really Wayne?"

"Yes...Really!"

Setting the quickly cooling cup of tea upon a stack of hay bales, Wayne placed one hand upon Vickie's right cheek, coaxing her forward until their lips met. They kissed softly at first, shyly, reluctantly. Yet after a few seconds Vickie's hands came up. And grasping both sides of Wayne's face she pulled him closer, kissing with the passion of a women long neglected.

"Vickie," Wayne began, after a time.

"Yes, Wayne."

"You know I'm no hero, don't you? Heck, I never had a fist fight in my life except maybe in grade school, and I lost that one. Hell, I worked at the phone company for God's sake! You sure I'm the type of guy you're interested in?"

"Wayne, yes...and I don't care about such things. You are braver than you know. Just being alive these days takes courage. The cowards just walk down the hill or put a barrel in their mouth. Lots have done just that, you know it. Besides, if it comes to that we'll all be living short. You're a good man Wayne. I can see it, hear it your voice, see it in how you talk and deal with the folks here. I'd be a lucky woman to have a man like you, no matter what went before. No, you're wrong in your doubts. I ain't looking for no hero. What I want is a man. What I want is a man who will love me for however much time we have left. And if that time is as little as one night, or as long as twenty years, that is more than I have now and more than most can ask for. I think you can do that Wayne. I think you want to, and I think you will."

She kissed him once more.

"It's a good fall evening," she said, "gets a little cold at night though. When do you finish your guard duty?"

"Bout another two hours," he answered.

"I'll be in your tent...waiting, and warm."

"Vickie...There's one more thing I need to say, please?"

"Sure Wayne, anything."

"Vickie, I---I mean. It's just that...I'm---its' been a..." he muttered, casting his eyes to the ground.

"What Wayne, what? It's ok. You can tell me. What have we to hide from each other here, and why?"

"Well, it's just that I haven't, you know. Not since...I mean it's been a while and... but I never had no complaints or nothing. I just don't want you to think...or to expect that I am, or I can...Jesus Christ Vickie, I'm no great lover. That's all."

"Don't worry Wayne...I am!"

And as she turned to leave, placing one last, slow kiss upon his lips he whispered a few words, hands about her cheeks, eye to eye.

"Vickie...I guess we are both kind of lucky, you and I. I mean, in a..."

Yes, Wayne, we are lucky...in some odd, fucked up sort of way."

Wayne only smiled into the darkness, pleased, surprised, and excited as he watched Vickie walk away, her slim and supple form swiftly receding into the covering darkness.

Then looking out from the high hill where he sat overlooking the valley and the citrus orange glow rising from the burning city far below, he thought how beautiful it all looked. Then speaking softly, he said to himself, "Dale, you old codger, you were right. It's one fine night, one fine night indeed."

The End

2012, Tim Wilkinson