Pear Tree

Winter had been long, and silent, and beautiful, and in many ways, life changing. Emma had never been alone for so long with nothing to do. Check that: With nothing electronic to do. She was a Millennial, and like everyone she knew, her life revolved around her phone, her tablet, video games after work, Instagram, and the Internet in general. Even while watching TV, she had one device or another in her hand, playing a game or swiping through TikTok vids. That was before, of course.

Having no electronics was bad, but the quiet had been the hardest part.

She could take solitude. Besides, with Boy, she wasn’t ever truly alone. He stayed close to her heels whenever she moved. She learned to turn in place before walking, but it had taken several bad spills tripping over his compact body before she figured that out. Alone wasn’t the problem, silence was.

She knew there was no one else out there. There couldn’t be. Survivors must be so rare, that the chances of running into another one was almost nil. Why, then, did the creaking of the trees at night or the clang from the pipes fill her with such terror?

She spent a lot of nights holding on to poor Boy, holding tightly. If there was really something there, she assumed he would alert, but since she had never seen him around other people, she had no way of knowing. Maybe he was one of those dogs that held the door open for the burglars as they carried out the 70-inch TV.

By late winter, Emma had found herself getting impatient and testy with Boy. She could hear him breathing when he slept, and on some days it drove her nuts. It was irrational, she knew, but she couldn’t help it. She needed to get out of the house and see something different.

The first thaw, then, came as a welcome guest. Emma waited and watched as winter loosened its hold. The almanac said it would be a long winter, and it had been, but as promised, spring was approaching.

When all the snow was gone and the ground was blanketed in mud and runoff, Emma could wait no longer. She bundled up in layers, took a backpack with water and some food, and strapped on her boots.

“Boy, do you want to go out?”

Boy was already waiting by the door. He had taken a stance as soon as he had seen Emma lacing up her boots and packing the backpack.

Emma shouldered her pack and headed out the door, Boy at her heels.

She had explored the barn behind the house when she had first arrived. There was a bull and a cow still in the barn, close to starving, but still alive. Since then, a winter calf had been born. Emma had also explored the pond west of the house and found the home’s original owner. His skeletonized remains still sat peacefully in the lawn chair, cradling a picture of his wife. He would spend forever looking out over that pond. Emma didn’t have the heart to bury him. Town lay to the east.

South, then, she had decided. She hadn’t explored across the road other than a quick drive through the area as she gathered supplies for the winter. The whole valley was farmland. She should have checked for surviving animals before winter, but they were better off on their own. She had no way of feeding them.

Emma and Boy picked their way carefully through the field across the road from her house. It was slow-going, as the patches of mud could easily hide gopher holes and rocks. The last thing she needed was a broken leg. Emma took her time, but Boy ran ahead, making large sweeping arcs back towards her, then running out again.

About half an hour in their walk, Boy jetted ahead once again, not seeming to tire at all, but instead of looping back to her, he started barking.

“Boy! Ruhig! Nein!” She didn’t have anyone else to practice her German with.

Boy continued to bark.

Bark. Boy was barking. At something.

Emma dropped her backpack and ran through the mud and around the group of trees where Boy had gone. She skidded to a stop.

“Whoa!”

“Boy!” Emma was torn between staying back and rushing forward to grab Boy. Her fear for him won out. She grabbed Boy by the collar and pulled him back.

“Whoa, lady. I come in peace. Please don’t feed me to your dog.”

Emma stared. She had forgotten how to talk. She didn’t know how to form words and communicate with another human being, and now she was stuck. There, in living color, stood another human. A living person was poised in front of her, hands up in the air in surrender, one gripping a walking stick. The man was edging backward towards a pear tree, probably intending to climb it.

Boy continued to bark.

“Drop the stick.”

The man slowly bent his knees and set the walking stick on the ground.

“Keep your hands up.” Boy had stopped barking when the stick was dropped, but he kept lunging. Emma suspected he just wanted the stick–he was a sucker for a stick–but Emma wanted this man to think Boy was vicious, at least for the moment.

Holding Boy by the collar, she worked her way around the man, looking to see if he had a gun or knife strapped to his belt. He did. He had both.

“Why do you have a gun? Put that down, too.”

“That I won’t do. If I was going to use the gun, I would have shot the dog when he first attacked me, but truth be told, I haven’t seen a dog in almost a year. I probably wouldn’t have shot him, even if I had thought about it.”

Emma finished her circle. He was a short man, not much taller than herself. His skin was brown, and Emma figured he was Hispanic or Native. She couldn’t be sure. He had to be in his mid-60s if he was a day. His hair had more gray than it had black, and deep lines on his face mapped out years of working in the outdoors.

“How many people have you killed?”

“What?”

“That’s what they asked in The Walking Dead. I couldn’t think of anything else.”

“Oh! You’re supposed to ask me how many walkers I’ve killed first.” The man slowly lowered his arms. “My arms are getting tired. Do you mind?”

“There aren’t any walkers. At least, I haven’t seen any walkers.” Emma took a few steps back, dragging Boy with her. “Go ahead.”

“My name’s Gil.” He extended his hand.

Emma wasn’t ready for that yet. “Emma.”

Gil dropped his hand and smiled. “I get it. You’re alone and scared. That’s reasonable.”

“I’m not alone!” Emma looked over her shoulder. “My husband is right behind me.”

“We’re going to be here a long time waiting on any husband to show up, aren’t we?”

Emma’s eyes flicked to the gun at his waist. What was the point? He was armed, she wasn’t. She hadn’t thought to bring the shotgun on her walk, and that was her mistake.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Defeated, Emma let go of Boy’s collar.

Free, Boy lunged towards the man, who leaped back with a yelp. Boy ignored him and grabbed the walking stick at Gil’s feet. Triumphantly, Boy returned to Emma, head tilted to one side under the weight of the staff. In typical Boy fashion, he trotted past Emma, wanting her to beg for the stick before throwing it, but in passing whacked her in the leg with the stick.

Crying out in pain, Emma grabbed her shin and plopped to the ground. “Sheisse!”

The man was laughing, but he bent to help her up.

“Stop laughing.”

“I’m sorry, but I kind of saw that coming. Let’s sit down and talk, okay?” Emma nodded. “My camp is just over there. I‘ll help you.”

“I can walk.” Emma was irrationally angry. She didn’t know who she was angry at, probably herself, and she knew if she kept it up, she’d chase away the only other being of her species she had seen in a year, but she couldn’t help herself.

Gil had set up camp around the bend. There was a stream nearby. His campsite was tidy.

“Have you been camping out all winter?”

Gil unfolded a camp chair and helped Emma into it. “Oh, no. I wouldn’t have survived out here during the winter. I was up in those mountains back there.” He gestured to the south.

“You wintered in the mountains alone?”

“I didn’t really have any choice with the alone part, but I was set up in a cabin. I’m a park ranger. I was supposed to retire after last season, but after the supply drop, my boos radioed me and asked if I could stay on a couple of weeks longer. He said everyone was getting sick. He had a pretty bad cough, himself. I’ve been doing this most of my life. Of course, I stayed. It probably saved my life.”

Emma realized her mouth was open. She closed it with a snap. “You weren’t here to get infected!” She covered her mouth and scooted back from him.

“No, don’t worry. I don’t think there’s any virus left. Once all the hosts are gone, there’s no place for them to go. I’ve seen it happen in herds of deer.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to die because of me.”

“Let’s Google it and find out.” Gil winked. He was obviously playing to her Millennial self. Emma smiled.

“How did you find out what happened?” Emma scooted the chair back up.

“Well, not long after my boss radioed, I tried to reach someone at base, and couldn’t get through. At first, I wasn’t too worried, but after a while, I got concerned. I couldn’t raise anyone on the ham, and I couldn’t hear any chatter from any other channel. Finally, I picked up someone who sounded crazy, talking about how ‘They’ had spread the disease and now everyone was dead. Had he been a dog, someone would have taken him out to the shed and shot him.” Seeing the confused look on Emma’s face, he added, “He was rabid. You know, like Ol’ Yeller.”

Emma shook her head and shrugged.

“Never mind that. Let’s just say he sounded sick. I heard nothing after that. By fall, I knew the raging lunatic on the radio had been telling the truth. No radio, no planes in the sky, and the animals were disappearing. It was too late to hike back, though. I decided to hunker down for the winter. There were enough supplies. I just needed wood, and there’s plenty of that in the, well, woods. How bad was it?”

“Everyone. Everyone is gone. You’re the first person I’ve seen in almost a year, and Boy is the only dog I’ve seen. I thought I was alone. What are the odds that another survivor would end up right across the road from me?”

“Not so odd, Emma. I went up on the fire tower and searched before heading out. I saw a thin line of what I thought might be smoke in this direction, and it wasn’t the same every day. I figured I would come check it out.”

Emma nodded. Of course, it wasn’t coincidence or divine intervention.

“What’s your story, Emma? You watched the world die.”

Emma stood up and gestured with her chin in the direction of her house. “Why don’t you pack up your stuff. I have plenty of room and supplies. My story is going to take some time. My house is straight in that direction. I’ll get some food warming up.” She stopped and added, “Do you speak German?”

Emma and Boy walked back across the field to the house. Emma could hardly see from the tears.

She wasn’t alone anymore.