Dust by Jacqueline Druga

Author:Jacqueline Druga [Druga, Jacqueline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780595654475
Goodreads: 11109274
Publisher: Writers Club Press
Published: 2002-12-01T00:00:00+00:00

7. One by One

The fourth grade electronics kit Davy got for Christmas was opened for the first time. I remember when he asked for that kit. First for his birthday, then when he didn’t get it, he asked Santa to bring it. It was expensive, and I knew it would go to waste. It did. With the intention to donate it or throw it away, Sam packed it up with all the other toys never touched. He put it in a plastic bag and stored it in the basement. Then forgot about it.

That kit became the center of attention for two days in the shelter. Davy wanted to convert the kit to send Morse code. He had a plan to get messages out. To let other survivors know we were alive. I didn’t have the heart to tell him the radio pretty much served the same purpose.

Dan still worked my nerves. Actually, Dan had to do nothing and the sight of him gnawed at me. But at least Dan wasn’t just sitting around, eating the food and crying. He had taken the entire day before and partitioned off the basement. Hating to admit it, he did a good job, too. I believe he did it purely for selfish reasons, because using an old curtain; he closed off the area around the stairs, deeming that his sleeping room. That was fine with me. The basement had gone from one large room, to three—not including Dan’s. He used what he could, sectioned off the laundry area for clean up and cooking, and divided the remaining basement portion in two. We would now have more privacy, which was important. He utilized the space, attributing his well-done job to his years of studying and teaching Fen Shui … yeah right.

We started using the basement powder room. I’ll give that one to Sam. Our next-door neighbor wasn’t home, and since his water lines weren’t shut down, the twenty gallons in the tank were not viable for drinking. It was however viable for … flushing. One flush a day. That worked. It was better than the bucket method we had been using. Although the males rarely used the bucket, they favored the drainpipe. We were wading through the intolerable better than I anticipated.

Except for Matty. Something was wrong with my daughter. She wasn’t ill, she wasn’t hurt, she was … quiet. If she spoke ten words since Sam brought her home, we were lucky. She responded to questions by nodding or shaking her head. But she started to cling more than she ever did. Holding on to me, Davy or Sam, at all times. Never was one of us without Matty attached to us.

Sam said it was shock. Not that he knew for sure, but that was his best guess, and mine. I wondered for how long? How long would Matty be withdrawn? Did she see something at that school, or was the entire aspect of all that happened, just too much for her fragile mind to handle? There were no answers.

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