Read Without for Free Online Page B

settled we left the road and entered the
house. The history of Emma’s life was everywhere. The afternoon sun fired beams
of light across countless picture frames. There were moments caught in black
and white, showing the faces and weird clothes of her childhood; faded colors
displayed the lives and experiences of her children; and the most brilliant colors
showed me the newest, little faces of her grandchildren who made her smile.
    “Those are my babies,” said Emma, returning to the living
room with a glass of sweet tea.
    “They look like a handful,” I said.
    “Sweetie, I’ll take two handfuls of them all day,” said
Emma, pausing.
    I knew where her thoughts were going. I knew she was worried
she’d never see them again. I was almost sure of it.
    “Well, I offered you a hot meal,” said Emma, forcing herself
away from the painful thoughts. “But sometimes my head gets as jumbled as my
words. I have an electric stove.”
    I smiled. “That’s not going to be a problem. What did you
have in mind to cook up?”
    “Pork chops,” said Emma, gleaming. “I’ve got a yearning for
pork chops tonight. I have a grill out back and plenty of charcoal. What do you
say you and I have ourselves a proper barbeque?”
    “Grilling pork chops happens to be my specialty,” I said,
telling her the truth.
    I headed out back and Ms. Emma headed into the kitchen. Both
of us were wearing smiles. We knew the world was about to become a dark and
dangerous place to live. But for tonight we were both safe.
    As the sun was setting, a campfire held back the darkness.
Pork chops were searing to perfection as Scarlett was losing her mind by the
grill. If anyone had walked into that backyard, it would’ve been difficult
explaining to them what we both knew was coming.
    Ms. Emma brought out a red-and-white checkered cloth and set
a magnificent table. She lit a candelabrum, pouring warm light over our meal.
She returned to the house with purpose after adding more touches of home and
sincerity to our barbeque. When she returned I stood and pulled out her chair.
She was wearing her Sunday best. And she was radiant.
    For hours we talked about our families, our lives, and our
loves before the event at 8:13. She carried most of the conversation, knowing I
didn’t mind the distraction. The evening sky was flawless and brilliant. The
lack of ambient light – and smog – gave us a view few have ever seen.
    “We need to go inside now,” said Ms. Emma, ending her story.
    “Are you okay?”
    “It’s coming.”
    “What’s coming?”
    I was fixated on her as she scanned overhead. I turned my
gaze to follow hers. A few seconds later the green wave rolled across the sky,
turning night into day.

Chapter 7
(Day 3)
Tiny Bubbles
     
     
    After walking twenty miles at a brisk pace, sleep came easy.
The only uneasy part was the dreams. They were a mosaic of fire, light, fear,
and love. Sam didn’t come to me in my sleep. She seemed to have made the
transition to a more comforting form while I was awake. I looked around the
room for her but only saw pastel colors and stuffed animals stacked to the
ceiling. The memory of her perfume was replaced with the smell of bacon.
    The light storm was less intense than it was the first
evening but it lasted much longer. It seemed to have reserved most of its power
for the city, leaving the windows of the house intact. I made my bed and took
great care to leave the room as I found it.
    Noticing the water pressure had dropped, I filled her
bathtubs to the rim. With no power to run the pumps, the pipes would soon be
dry. And before they dried up completely, the clean water would be mixing with
raw sewage. I wanted to leave Ms. Emma with every ounce of clean water
possible.
    I found her hovering over the grill, flipping those
wonderful strips of meat. She didn’t notice me as I stood behind her thinking
about the day before. My morning and evening couldn’t have been more different.
I started the day blasting my