Taking Inventory

The pickup truck raced along the curving road, scraping the gravel sides on every narrow turn, towards the school building and the observatory. In the fully reclined car seat to Clement’s right, Jean appeared to be asleep or completely immersed in her thoughts, while Eliza hummed a song from the back. Despite this, her face in the rear-view mirror was completely emotionless, and the fateful hammer which hadn’t left her hand since she first picked it up rested on her shoulder.

For better or for worse, they were now relying on each other, so Clement wanted to make a few things clear:

“I think what we did to the ambulance guy was wrong.”

“Deserved, in my opinion. He was annoying.” That statement was intended for Eliza, but Jean cut in with her opinion.

“Yeah, but in spite of that, he was trying to help us. Despite knowing that we’re all toast in a year.”

A measured, thoughtful voice came from the back. “Mmm. I almost feel bad for him. But I guess you’re right. We shouldn’t accelerate society’s downfall by being doofuses ourselves.

“Exactly. Let’s try to negotiate and follow laws moving forward.”

“You guys do whatever, and I’ll follow. I’m only here for the ride, at this point - ow!” Jean tried to shift to a more comfortable position on her seat, but had evidently caught her leg on something.

“Really? I thought you’d care about rules more, being our boss, and everything.”

“No. I’m done putting up a show. It was largely for my parents and for you guys, but they have made their position clear, you guys are pretty self-sufficient now, and I don’t think school is ever gonna reopen for the younger members to take over from us. Watch where you’re going, stupid.”

Clement was so surprised at this reveal that he had almost missed a turn. The truck lurched sideways as it cut through a significant piece of the curb, but then stabilized on the road. That sharp turn was particularly deadly in the winter, and indicated that they had almost arrived at the clearing on which the school stood.

In hindsight, it all made sense. During the first week of school, she took on the almost thankless task of the astronomy club’s deputy president, ran for student council elections despite every one of them being rigged, always got excellent grades and participated in just about every competition the school had. Even at the party, she was putting way more effort than necessary on appearances, trying to please people that didn’t deserve it. And the exhaustion and sadness he had seen afterwards were clear indicators that something was wrong. Fallout with her parents was nothing new either, happening roughly every month or so, but this time it must have been particularly bad.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve asked earlier. Got so distracted by everything…”

“It’s fine. I am way past such trivial problems now. As that tin can of a car was flying through the air into the tree, I decided that I want to see the end of the world for myself.”

“Yeah. Sorry for being bad friends, but you’re good now. To hell with the student council, to hell with the yearbook committee, and to hell with your parents.” Such a statement from someone who shortened her name in an homage to an elegant Jane Austen character was doubly powerful. Recognizing this, Jean smiled, weakly.

Clement, on the other hand, was conflicted. Though he now had a powerful and reliable ally in Eliza, it was quite sad to see all his friends growing and maturing in spite of their circumstances and the looming threat of unimaginable hardship ahead, with himself remaining the same.

Suddenly, the woods cleared, and their school loomed before them. Clement immediately veered left, on to the familiar path around it, now better-defined than ever by many sets of tires from last night’s party. In spite of the grave situation, Clement could not help but feel overcome by a sea of emotions:

“Remember when someone hacked the P. A. system and played fart noises over Principal Moreau’s speech?”

“Yeah. Can’t say he didn’t deserve it, though. Making us stand for fifteen minutes after the anthem to listen to him. D’you remember who it was? That madman gave us the laugh of a lifetime.”

“Beats me. Hope he’s well now, though.”

“Yeah.” Jean pursed her lips.

“Wait, what? No? When was that?” came a shocked exclamation from the back as Eliza processed the information.

“Of course you wouldn’t remember it, you were absent all the time in ninth grade.”

“Yeah, I loved skipping school. Still do. Got a problem?” All three friends laughed, thinking of better times.

A little later, when the school had passed by them and they were driving through the rear parking lot, Eliza smiled. Putting on her best announcer’s voice, she proclaimed:

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, we are passing through the famous Eastern Parking Lot. Here, the flywheel of violence would often sway in favour of the oppressed, and many a math teacher was put in his place here. But most importantly, please give it up for the Class of 2019 for being the only one in Riverburg High’s history to seek out diplomatic solutions, and never resort to this sacred site’s help!”

The friends clapped and cheered, chanting their former homeroom’s name and remembering the lengths they had gone to in negotiations over grades.

Gradually, the parking lot gave way to much more treacherous terrain as they passed by the long jump pits, then the single sad tennis court, a relic from the old school building, and finally over the far loop of the running track and onto a very familiar slope. Half a minute later, and the observatory, their second home, was in sight. Usually, it would be much more concealed, but thanks to the unease of the drivers last night, some bushes from the side of the road were in various stages of destruction, revealing the old but recently painted white house beyond them.

Clement killed the engine, mentally thanking the old truck for holding up so well.

“Home sweet home.” Jean said, her melancholic expression returning as she realized the colossal task of moving her into the house and accommodating her.

Eliza was the first to throw open a door and half-jump half-stumble out of the car: “I’m still out of it, so I’ll go clean the inside. You’re gonna have to move Jean and the supplies, Clement. Sorry, not sorry.” She unlocked the reinforced oak door (telescopes were expensive and crime was on the rise for the last two decades), and shakily disappeared in the depths, carrying the girls’ two purses she had salvaged from the wreck.

Jean started to say something about pitying Clement over having to unload so much supplies, but was interrupted by gunshots. This time, though, they appeared more distant, and only served to slightly startle the two. Annoyed at this interruption but happy to have made the right choice, Clement got to work. He figured the supplies would be fine to leave in the car if carrying Jean sapped his strength too much, and so gently opened her door.

“You know what? Save your strength. I think I can walk.”

“So soon after the injury? That’s not a good idea. Can you even step on your leg without collapsing?”

“Well, we’re about to find out.” In a great effort she leaned out of the door towards Clement and began to slide down dangerously quickly, but then grabbed the side of the truck and, with a lot of support from Clement, stood up defiantly.

“That wasn’t quite so bad, was it,” she asked. It was, but he did not have the heart to tell her, waiting instead for her to start “walking.”

At the door of the observatory, they took a short break to catch their breath, Jean because no matter how she tried her right leg moved and snagged on the terrain, and Clement because supporting her after half a night’s sleep and no breakfast was no easy task. Nonetheless, they made it into the building, slowly rounded the table, dodging chairs along the way, and stopped to rest again at the far end of the table. Then, through a titanic effort from both Clement and Eliza, who felt so bad for the two that she had no choice but to join in and help them, she was transported to the second floor. After what seemed like an eternity, she made one last defiant “step” towards the couch and slowly sank into it with a pained grimace.

“Thanks.” Once fully lowered, she stared into the ceiling, unmoving, her thoughts indiscernible.

“Start losing weight!” Eliza chided her, warranting a light smack on the top of her head. The two others remained at the foot of her couch for a while, until Clement worked up the strength to get up.

“Please get some rest. I’ll be on the first floor cleaning if you need me.

Eliza protested: “Don’t bother. I’ve already cleaned most of it,” but did not follow him downstairs.

She was right, and much of the table was cleared, the leftovers were packaged neatly into either the garbage bin or the tiny fridge, and even the shelves were better arranged than Clement had left them in the evening. Deeming this to be a good enough state, he instead went out to his car, picked up the luggage - supplemented by the backpack that Eliza had scavenged from the wreck, and unloaded the perishables into the fridge next to the leftovers of the party. Unloading his bags, he made short mental notes of which tools he had, the approximate shelf and fridge life of the foods he had brought, and the most essential items that they lacked. Then, dumping the last two bags - both full of medicine - onto the table, he collapsed onto a chair and leaned far back, too tired to continue walking or even look inside. It was in this state that the bloodied and battered Andrew found him.