Wake Up Call — Hindsight, Chapter 6, Part 3

The bang startled Bill awake.

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Hindsight by Neil Shooter (photo by author)

June 2038.

The bang startled Bill awake. The clock displayed 03:17.

Footsteps. Creaking floorboards. There was no mistaking it: someone was in the house.

Bill threw back the covers, and put his feet to the floor. He had a good idea where the creaks were in his own room, as well as out in the hallway. There was a thud out there, and some giggling, and suddenly Bill knew exactly what was going on.

He reached for the door, and turned on the hallway light.

Hudson cringed from the light with a groan, looking like a smoking vampire, or a melting witch. “Sorry,” he hissed.

“Go to bed,” Bill said. He watched as Hudson half walked, half slid along the wall, and tumbled into his room. The door closed with a bang.

Brian’s door opened, and he squinted in the light. “What’s going on?”

“Hudson’s back. Everything’s fine. Go back to bed.”

Brian must have heard something in the tone of voice, because he said nothing else, only turned back into his dark room, and closed the door.

Bill stood there a moment longer, and turned off the hallway light. The light in Hudson’s room clicked off, and there was darkness again. But not peace. Bill felt very far from sleep. But he closed his door, and climbed back into bed.

He stared at the ceiling in the dim, grey light of a moonlit night. Shadows swirled, artifacts of his imagination, and the dance of spots on his retina that he usually didn’t notice. Shadow on shadow, like spirits flying in the air above him, or smoke, or some kind of strange magic. And yet none of those things. Only artifacts of his ageing eyes.

The things he’d said yesterday echoed through his mind.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea?”

“Where are you going?”

“Don’t come home wasted and wake us all up.”

“You believe that shit?”

And things he’d heard.

“I haven’t seen them in months.”

“It’s just a party.”

“I won’t do anything stupid.”

“The whole Sub-Dis is in Green.”

“If it’s even real.”

Around and around his head the words bounced, reverberated, echoed, and repeated. There would be no sleep.

Yes, they were in Green. Yes, parties were not banned. Yes, they stayed within the Unit territory. Yes, the friends were all on each other’s Approved lists. But it was still a risk. It was still irresponsible. He didn’t care whose bloody birthday it was.

*

In the end he must have fallen asleep because he woke up, with the first light in the sky. But he was exhausted.

Already, thoughts bounced around his brain. There was no chance of him getting back to sleep, so he got up.

He made a strong coffee, and sat with it at the living room window in the dark, watching the light change, and the shadows shrink, and the distant silhouettes along the horizon gain definition.

And then the sun broke through a line of cloud beyond the horizon, and the bronze light faded to mere gold, and he smiled. There were still moments of wonder, moments of calm, moments of beauty. The dew in the grass, and on the leaves, glistened in the light, tiny prisms, little spheres of magic and enchantment. In the valley, a wisp of mist lingered for a while, but the heat of the day wasn’t far off. By the time he’d finished his coffee, the sky was only blue, and the birds were flying. A rooster crowed, a reminder of things to be done.

He took care of the chickens, and got the sprinkler going. He did his rounds checking for curled leaves on the fruit trees, for caterpillars trying to camouflage themselves as twigs, and for the plump green biting caterpillars the precise shade of tomato leaves. The work was therapeutic. It calmed him, made him feel human again. What was more soothing than solitude in nature?

No, it wasn’t wilderness. It wasn’t the depths of a forest, or an empty land. It was a lawn, on the edge of a vegetable patch, and the watered things were green, and living, and there was no sign of any other living person. No vehicle on the road. No distant voices. No gunshots. No screams. No one at all in sight. He sat under the oak tree on one of the metal benches, and soaked in the silence.

He pulled himself to his feet when the sprinkler was done, and he could take the hose around. There were berries to pick, a few. Everything was too wet with dew and hose water to consider picking anything yet. He was ready for some breakfast. But thinking of food, he thought of the members of the household, of feeding them, of last night, and of everything else that had ever happened.

That was sometimes the problem with watering. Your mind could wander, but some of the paths it took were familiar and well worn.

Finally, he dragged himself up to the house.

*

He found Brian sitting at the kitchen table with the last of a cup of coffee.

Brian looked up when Bill came in.

“Well, you look like shit.”

“Thanks. You too.”

Bill chuckled. “Didn’t sleep, eh?”

“Like a baby.”

“He’s not up yet?” Bill didn’t need to nod in the direction of the third bedroom.

“Nope.”

“It’s almost 10!”

“He’s hungover!”

“There’s no time for hangovers in this house,” Bill said, and reached into the cupboard for a large pan, and then into the utensil draw for the biggest wooden spoon he had.

“Uncle Bill—don’t! Let him sleep!”

“No way!”

“He’s just a kid! Don’t do it!”

“He needs to get up and start producing!” Bill stalked down the corridor and burst into Hud’s room. Bill stared in dismay at the drunken ruin emanating from everything.

Hudson didn’t stir.

Bill got closer to the bed, held the pan even closer to the sleeping teen, and then walloped the spoon against it, again, and again, and again.

Hudson jumped awake, and covered his ears with his palms, gaping up in horror and confusion.

“Morning, sonny! Time to get to work!”

“Let me sleep!”

“Get out of bed and into that garden! You have to pull your weight! Call ME an asshole, will you?”

“What? What are you talking—”

“I heard you, so don’t even try it.”

“That was a private conversation!”

“So try speaking more quietly!” Bill yelled, enunciating everything excessively precisely.

“That’s a violation of my rights! And so is this!”

“If you’re not out of this room in two minutes, I’m dumping a bucket of cold water on you.” Bill finally let the pan and spoon drop to his side.

“You wouldn’t,” Hudson scoffed.

“Try me.”

Bill returned to the kitchen, returning the pan and the spoon to their rightful places.

Brian was finishing up making a new coffee, in a new cup.

“What’s wrong with the cup you were using?”

“It’s not for me. It’s for him.”

“What are you coddling him for?” Bill was incredulous.

“Cut him some slack.”

And then Hudson was there in the doorway.

Brian said, “Here, I made you this.”

Hudson took the offered cup. “Thanks. Oh, it’s black.”

“Trust me, kid. You don’t want milk in your coffee right now. Let’s see if you can keep BLACK coffee down first.”

Hudson seemed to consider that, and nodded.

Bill relented at the pathetic sight of the young man slumped over his cup. “You want some toast? Bread is good for soaking stuff up.”

Hudson looked at him carefully. “Okay.”

Bill got it ready, but immediately realized his mistake. He was now serving the arrogant little fuck. Oh well—let it be an olive branch. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.”

“I’d like you to take a look at that bale of hay in the bottom corner.” Bill tried to keep his voice even, and free of any kind of emotion. “The bags are under the balcony. Stuff them about three-quarters full, and put them under the balcony. We need to keep them dry.”

Hudson looked up in disbelief. “Me?”

“Yes, you. I’ve already done three hours of work while you were snoring your tequila off.”

“Sambuca.”

“I don’t care what it was. Sambuca’s a bit fancy for my tastes, but each to their own.”

“Goes down easy.”

“I can tell.”

Brian stood up. “I should check on the new chicks in the basement.” He left the room.

“Look, Hudson, I’m not telling you to not have any fun, but next time can you just—”

“You have no right.”

“No? Well, you have no right to come storming in at three in the morning, waking everyone up, and then expect to not do your fair share of the work the next day. THAT’s not fair. We have a quota, and right now I’m sharing the credits evenly between the three of us. You told me you wouldn't SHIRK your duties. So prove it. Do your fair share.”

Bill walked out, went to his bedroom, and shut the door behind him. He could do with a nap. But there was too much to do. And he just needed a little time to himself first.

*

Bill rummaged through the strawberries. It was the tail end of the Junebearing plants, but there was still a steady, albeit lighter, crop on the Everbearing variety. It looked like there would be enough strawberries today to include some in the delivery, a handful for each of the boxes. And the worst ones held back for the three of them here.

Bill was aware of Hudson trudging back and forth, stuffing old feed bags, and running them up to under the balcony on the dolly. He felt a bit sorry for him. Working hungover was never fun. Was he being too harsh on him?

When Bill had been through all the different lines of berries, not just the strawberries, he took them up to the house.

He mixed up vinegar and soapy water in the manual pump-spray cannister, along with a bit of cayenne pepper, then grabbed goggles, but his hat back on, and went through the orchard. He sprayed the leaves liberally. The mixture was harmless for the trees, but interfered with the bugs. It was easier to get a hold of than a chemical spray, but not quite as effective. The price of organic gardens.

He noticed a branch that was not doing well. He should have brought the pruners, but he didn’t want to go up to the house for them. He’d find the offending twig again another time. Most of the branches were within reach. That was by design: the result of more than a decade of deliberate and careful pruning. Almost all of the fruit that came would be within easy reach for harvesting, from the cherries, to the pears, to the apples.

When he was done with the fruit trees, he still had plenty of spray left, so he went up and down the lines of berries, and even then still had some left for the grapes on the slope near the house.

When he was done, and his gear was stowed in the garage, he stood on top of the slope looking down the garden at Hudson, and finally took pity on him. He went down to help.

Hudson looked up in alarm when he realized Bill was there, but didn’t comment.

Bill noted that Hudson had made decent progress, despite his temporary impediment. It was easier as a two man job. Most things were. “Hold the bag open for me.”

Hudson obliged.

Bill pulled handfuls of hay out of the bale, and stuffed it into the bottom of the next empty bag. When it was almost full, he heaved it off to one side. Hudson got another bag ready without being told, and Bill was pleased.

After several bags, Bill felt like he had to say something. “Look, Hudson, I’m not the asshole you think I am.”

Hudson started to protest, but Bill hushed him.

“Let me finish. I know I’m not the easiest to get along with. I know it’s not the perfect situation. And I know I was angry with you this morning—and last night. But we’re all in this together.” He laughed. “I remember when that was the catchphrase of the first pandemic. And I remember how false the sentiment was in the years that followed. But now… in many ways it IS a better world. And even though there are parts of it I don’t like, and parts of it that still piss me off, I can also see that for the first time in my life, we are all actually in this together. So you and I are on the same team. We have the same goal. Which is to find a way to harmoniously work together, fulfil our quota, and enjoy life as best we can the rest of the time. I’m not telling you not to drink. I remember what it was like when I was young. Yes, I know it was a long time ago. But in a lot of ways it was the same for me then as it is for you now. A society that wanted me to do things, be a certain way, and I didn’t always want to obey. Sure, the rules are different now, but the urge to be your own man is no different really. It’s timeless. All I ask is that you notice how your actions impact others. You’re connected to us now, and we will rise or fall together. And you know what, I’m sorry I let my temper get the better of me this morning. But I hadn’t slept very well, you know what I mean?”

Hudson nodded. “And I’m sorry I got so wasted. It was Bain’s birthday. He’s going to a winery in Cherry Valley. In a couple of weeks. That’s why we were all celebrating.”

“I get it. You got carried away. And I get that it isn’t going to happen all the time. It’s just as much of an adjustment for me as it is for you though, you know? We’re allies. We have to figure out how to make the alliance work. United we stand, divided we fall. Do you get where I’m coming from?”

Hudson nodded. “You talk a lot.”

Bill looked over in sudden annoyance, but saw the smirk on Hudson’t face, and the good humour in his eyes. Bill chuckled. “Sometimes. Not often. But—”

“Uncle Bill!”

Bill wheeled. Brian was on the balcony, and he looked agitated. “What’s up?” Bill bellowed back.

“You’d better come! Both of you!” Brian turned and went inside.

Bill looked at Hudson, who shrugged. “Well,” Bill said. “You heard the guy. We’d better go. But you know what? Thank you for working like this when you’re ‘under the weather’. You can relax the rest of the day, okay?”

Thanks for reading!

Continue reading with the next part on Sunday!

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