Rebuild Team 2

Henry had built his room with tarps and bits and pieces of this and that. The colossal window was leaning inwards, held up by an assortment of garbage and boards, blown inward when the bomb pushed its murderous hellfire winds up and out. It was not ideal, but he said it was temporary until he figured out what to do with the window. She visited him most days. She should be helping with the rebuild, but her asthma prevented her from doing much considering everything in this quarter was still covered in thick ash.

“Henry, did you really live here before?” She turned from the window to watch him as he went about ‘puttering’ as he called it.

“Not in this exact house, no, but in this town. But I was in Montana when it happened.”

“Did you know who lived in this house? In this room?” He always answered her questions, but sounded annoyed today.

“Nope. Well, I might have, I just can’t place where this house was before. There’s no street or landmark to help me out. You’re full of piss and vinegar today. What’s got you so chatty?”

“I’m bored.” She sat down and spun around and around in his chair.

“Well, some things never change. I thought you came with the rebuild team. Go rebuild.” He was crouched down plugging in solar panel cords to an old Jackery battery. He turned and pushed his glasses up onto his head.

“Isis, how old are you?”

“14. Worst age ever. I can’t do anything fun.”

With her last spin around, he kicked at the chair.

“That’s fun, am I right?”

She answered with an eyeroll.

“Well, it’s been a blast.” She paused, waiting for him to catch the pun. Nothing.

“See you tomorrow, kid.”

“Maybe. Might be rebuilding; you know, busy, busy, busy.” He chuckled. That kid cracks me up.

Her parents had met in quarantine in Colorado. Her grandmother was a civilian engineer working for the US Air Force so she had the privilege of being sheltered deep within the mountain when the bombs dropped. These people, military and civilian, were underground for seven years. Isis was born in the sixth year so she does not remember the insistent hum of machinery, intercoms constantly crackling with information or requests, and the stench of close quarters for far too long.

Since they came out of the mountain 13 years ago, she has always been on the move with the rebuilding team. Each bombed crater showing signs of life within while up on the main land, the people left behind try to reassemble a battered and bruised ashy-grey world.

She went to the window and looked out one last time. It is just so green, so beautiful, she whispered. Her eyes followed white birds flying and perching in the tops of trees.

She turned and while she passed him she asked, “I wonder how long until we destroy that, too?” Henry lifted his head, his face illuminated by the glow of his laptop, but Isis was gone before he could formulate a response.