The air was silent, save for the faint whistle of a breeze through the forest pines. Absent were the faraway sounds that once traveled through the valley from a distant town. Lost were the melodies of birds’ voices, sharing their collective song throughout the woods. The sounds of life, gone missing long ago, were now all but an echo – lost in time.
A thin river twisted its way through the rocky soil of the mountain’s foothills. At the edge of a small clearing near the top of the riverbank’s incline, a sparse vegetable garden clung to life, a series of sticks haphazardly forming a border around the patch of tilled ground. A bucket and a shovel, its handle snapped in half, sat on the ground. Near the garden, a weathered camping tent leaned to one side as it stood warily in place; long grass had grown up along the outer edges of the canvas and gently brushed along its sides. Two large pots and a dented pan hung several feet above the ground from a long rope stretched between two trees. Another line was drawn taught nearer the tent; a yellowed blouse and a pair of jeans, sporting several hand-stitched patches, laid atop the rope. In the middle of the clearing, a makeshift fire pit had been dug into the ground and encircled by a short wall of small rocks. A pile of sticks and twigs rested next to the shallow pit, ready for use.
The looming tree branches of the old forest cast shadows over much of the clearing, as if protecting it from the outside world. The surrounding brush was similarly thick, save for the edge leading down to the riverbank and a pathway through which a sun-lit field of grass could be seen to the east. Eve emerged from the darkened forest, gracefully sliding through the snare of bare autumn branches. With a bundle of twigs wrapped in a tattered canvas sack tucked under one arm, she stepped into the clearing and brushed a few errant strands of her chestnut brown hair back behind her left ear. Thin lines stretched from the corner of her eyes, the edge of her mouth, and along her brow – creased in dirt and baked into permanence by the sun. Shining through their weathered surroundings Eve’s blue eyes shimmered in the afternoon light as she glanced around the empty campsite.
Eve called out with a gentle voice, “Sam?” The vacant sound of leaves rustling in the trees was the only response. She let out a tired breath and unfurled the bundle onto the ground near a larger pile of broken tree-branches. As she shook the rough canvas free of dirt and crumbled leaves, Eve glanced around the clearing, again – searching. She rolled up the sack and tossed it next to the wood pile. While casually pulling down on the bottom of her faded green t-shirt, Eve felt the edge of a new tear along the seam. She looked down and discovered that the hole was already large enough to fit two fingers through. With a glum sigh, Eve quickly examined the rest of her shirt for further damage. She called out again, a little louder than before. “Sam!”
After a moment, Sam awkwardly stumbled into the campsite clearing from the sunny pathway. His ragged tweed coat was battered and frayed, the left sleeve kept in place by a series of mismatched threads sewn through the seam. The once-brass buttons now resembled mildewed coal. He stood tall, nearly 6 feet, but his worn clothes hung loose on his thin frame. Sam’s left arm hung dead at his side, gently swaying with each step as he slowly limped toward Eve. His dark, vacant eyes were a stark contrast to his companion’s. “How may I be of service, Eve?” With each word, Sam’s head gently shook – as if with old age.
Eve’s face lit up at the sound of Sam’s voice, and she turned to face him. Tension melted from her shoulders, and they fell soft as she offered Sam a warm smile. Eve removed a tired rag from the back pocket of her denim cut-off shorts and wiped her brow, though the condition of the rag did little more than smear the dirt across her sweaty face. “Did you get a full charge this time?”
Sam’s speech was slightly halted, but soothing – almost lyrical. “Yes, Eve. The sun is strong today.” The hair on his head, cut close at the neck and designed in a permanent side-part, had long ago been bleached a light brown by his regular daytime solar charges. His synthetic skin, however, had only been darkened by the dirt and grime of outdoor living.
“Good,” Eve responded, before once again turning her attention to her torn shirt. “An android with a useless arm is bad enough, let alone a dead battery.”
Sam stared blankly at Eve.
Noticing his gaze, Eve shut her eyes tightly and winced. With a sigh, she offered an apology. “I’m sorry, Sam. I just mean, well… you’re too heavy. I can’t carry you. If you fall low on power again– I just don’t want to lose you out there.” Eve stepped forward and rested her hand gently on Sam’s left shoulder, encouraging his understanding with a hopeful nod, “Right?”
Without expression, Sam looked at Eve for a moment. “How else may I be of service, Eve?”
Eve grinned, a faint chuckle escaping through her chapped lips. “Why don’t you go shut down, Sam. I’ll call you for dinnertime.”
Sam echoed her smile, briefly, before obliging, “Yes, Eve.” Shuffling through the barren dirt and fallen leaves, Sam slowly made his way to the base of a large, dead cottonwood and waddled into an about-face. With several internal clicks, like the skipping gears of a rusted mechanical clock, Sam shut himself down: shoulders slouched to one side, head drooped, eyes closed.
***
A thick, black pot sat over a gentle fire. Strands of steam rose from the faint remains of vegetable soup that remained inside. Eve sat on the ground in front of the fire, propped up against an old fallen log, laughing. Sam sat on a rock opposite her, his left shoulder hanging noticeably lower than his right. Stars glistened in the night sky above them.
“…I felt so bad, but the look- the look on his face. I’ll never forget it,” Eve sputtered, through the tail-end of a hearty laughing fit. Slowly regaining composure, Eve let out a big, calming breath as she wiped a tear from her eye. “Oh. How many times I have I told you that story?”
Sam didn’t miss a beat. “One-hundred and-”
With a raised hand, Eve cut him off with an embarrassed smile. “Nope. No, that’s okay, you don’t, ah… you don’t have to actually tell me.” With a chuckle and a shake of her head, Eve stretched back and gazed at the grand spectacle of stars peering down through the break in the trees above. She shivered. “It’s getting cold again.” Sam looked to Eve. “Makes for a beautiful sky,” she continued, her voice softened by a growing thought. Eve’s eyes lost focus, glossing over as she escaped into the view above her – and into a distant memory. “Sometimes it’s just too quiet, though. So quiet. I wonder if we’re…” Eve trickles to a halt. Sam followed her stare up to the sky above and quickly counted the visible stars before looking at Eve once more.
“The current air temperature is twelve degrees Celsius.”
Sam’s unrequested fact broke the spell, and Eve regained her focus on the stars above with a quick snort. “Never tell me the odds.” Eve looked to Sam, again, with a smile. “Okay, you big thermometer. Bedtime.”
Sam braced his right hand on the ground to his left, turning his body as he awkwardly began to stand. The sound of tired gears and metal shearing against metal echoed through the clearing. After righting himself, Sam slowly hobbled toward a small plastic cart next to Eve’s tent. Peering into the nearly-empty pot, Eve stirred the remnants of the soup once more before placing the lid on top.
“Breakfast,” she offered, in response to a question that had not been asked.
She stood up, tired but with a remnant of youthful grace, and tossed her empty bowl and spoon into a bucket. Suddenly, Sam was standing next to her.
“Here you are, Eve,” Sam stuttered, as he held out a tattered old book.
Eve delighted at the feel of the softened cardboard binding as she took the thin book from Sam. “Thank you, Sam. Okay.” Sam found his place, standing behind the fallen log Eve once leaned on. Eve sat down on the dead tree and leaned herself back against Sam’s legs. Eve opened the faint remnants of the book’s cover and began to read, in a sweet, soothing voice, “There was once a velveteen rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid. He was fat and bunchy, as a rabbit should be; his coat was spotted brown and white, he had real thread whiskers, and his ears were lined with pink sateen.” As she spoke, Eve wielded every word with perfect expression – warm and engaging, almost as if it was the first time this story had ever been told.
Sam gazed out into the woods.
***
The campfire was but a smoldering collection of embers, now, barely casting enough light to read by. Eve concluded her story, “But he never knew that it really was his own bunny, come back to look at the child who had first helped him to be real. The end.” Eve closed the book and lingered, for just a moment, before standing up. Sam turned his head to meet her eyes. After brushing off her backside, Eve tapped Sam’s shoulder with the book and clicked her tongue. “Okay. Night, Sam.”
“Goodnight, Eve.”
Eve tossed the book back into the crate on her way inside her tent. Sam watched as Eve closed the tent flap behind her, and then, with his usual dull clamor, he shut down – a slumped sentry standing guard over the campsite throughout the night.
***
Beads of warm water trickled down Eve’s bare back. She closed her eyes in bliss, letting the shower head’s stream engulf her face as she stepped forward. Steam was already rising from the cream-colored tile below as Eve slid deeper into the shower’s embrace. She turned her back to the water and dipped her head backwards. Eve, slowly but firmly, ran her hands through her long hair. Each of her thin, soft fingers slipped through the fine strands until meeting at the back of her neck. Tilting her head to one side, Eve traced her left hand down the curve of her neck and down to her collarbone. She rested her hand on her bare chest, feeling herself take in a deep breath of the warm air surrounding her. Eve smiled.
Suddenly, a wet leaf slapped against her leg.
Eve stood, gently shivering, in the cold mountain stream that ran alongside her campsite. Waking herself from a distant memory, Eve bent down to remove the leaf from her skin. She glanced around, reminding herself of her present surroundings, before quickly crumpling the soggy leaf and tossing it away. Eve ran her hands up and down her torso, a motion of simultaneous washing and warming. Her rough fingers rattled over her baring ribs and her teeth lightly clattered from behind her gaunt cheeks. Eve squatted down in the water, bending her head forward and letting her hair drop down into the running clear below. She pulled several handfuls of water up onto the nape of her neck and soaked her head, thoroughly massaging her scalp and running her fingers through her tangled hair. Her left hand snagged on a knot.
“Ow!” she winced.
With a shiver, Eve waded through the soft riverbed and grabbed a thick-toothed comb that was resting atop her clothes on a nearby rock. She absentmindedly counted the number of missing teeth on the comb: up to 5, now. With a few haphazard passes, Eve combed through her hair just enough to make it manageable. She tossed the chestnut strands back up into her usual ponytail, fastening the still-wet hair into place with a thick, red child’s shoelace that was fraying on both ends. Picking up a dish towel that had been slung over a dead log, Eve gave herself a quick pat-down and put her clothes back on.
As she made her way up the short incline toward her campsite, Eve’s eye caught a glimmer of the rising sun through a break in the forest wall around her, and she paused. She closed her eyes and let the sunlight splash across her face. Eve smiled and offered a peaceful sigh. Her bare toes scrunched the dirt between them, and she casually turned her head to offer the other side of her face to the warmth of the rising sun.
“Just recharging,” Eve whispered.
She stood there, several minutes more, until the sun had moved on from its tree-limb window.
***
A large fire cracked and popped heartily along in the makeshift fire pit. The cooking pot was now sitting to one side, a tall stack of burning wood in its place. Eve sat in the dirt, inches from the flames as they danced around the dark smoke that gently wafted up through the break in the tree canopy above. She rubbed her hands together and pushed them toward the fire before bringing them to her chest.
“It’s time to start boiling the bath water again. Just about froze myself into hallucination this morning,” Eve said.
Sam remained off, slumped in-place on his feet from the previous night.
Eve wrapped a faded flannel shirt around her shoulders. She pulled her ponytail free from underneath the shirt and held it in one hand, feeling its length. Eve rubbed her thin hair between her fingers as she stared into the fire.
“What do you think about me cutting my hair short? I mean, like, off-the-shoulders short? I had it that way in middle school, before you were around.” Eve puckered her lips, and a deep breath whistled through her nostrils. She let her hair fall back down and slid her hands through the arms of the shirt. “I wish we hadn’t lost those stupid scissors.”
Sam stood, silent.
“Maybe the shovel-”
There was a rustling in the bushes across from her. Eve’s eyes grew wide and her brow furrowed as she leaned to her right, away from the noise. The sound of twigs snapping immediately pushed Eve to her feet. She lurched her hand into the nearby woodpile and returned with her fist tightly clenched around a heavy branch. Leaves rustled in the thick shrubbery ahead. Color drained from Eve’s face.
Suddenly, a man emerged from the brush! He was nearly as unkempt as Eve was, with a scraggly beard but newer clothing. A tattered backpack and rolled sleeping bag were slung over his shoulder.
Their eyes found one another’s.
Without flair, the stick dropped from Eve’s hand. She covered her mouth, but not before it let escape a loud gasp. His eyes were as wide as hers. An eternal pause filled the space between them as they stared at each other. As they stared through each other. As if each had just discovered the unimaginable.
“Hi,” he breathed. His hands shuddered.
Eve was barely audible. “Hello…”
“You’re real?”
Eve barely nodded.
“You’re human.”
Her chest raced up and down, her breaths hard and fast. “Yes.”
The man dropped his backpack from his shoulder, letting it haphazardly catch on the crook of his arm before it fell to the dirt below. His eyes never left Eve. With an initial stumble, he approached her. Cautiously, as if she might shatter on contact, the man reached out and touched her arm.
She didn’t shatter.
Reeling back for a moment, he gasped for air and looked deeply into the fire. His feet anxiously tilted his body side to side as he gently swayed. He laughed once; the second laugh gave way to suddenly watery eyes. The man covered his mouth with the back of his hand and breathed short, heavy bursts of teary laughter.
Eve took a step forward, her mouth agape. Her gaze rattled back and forth between his eyes. “Okay… okay…,” she muttered.
“I’m sorry, I-” He broke himself off and wiped his nose.
Eve shook her head ‘no’ to assuage his compulsive apology. She attempted to speak, but the words only squeaked out at a very faint level. “Are you alone?”
The man nodded as he composed himself with a deep breath and sniffle. Then, as if reciting from memory, he cleared his throat and spoke again. “My name is George. I’m from Michigan. I’ve been heading west for 3 years. You’re the first person that I have seen… alive.” He paused, before adding to his speech, “I’d given up on the idea that I’d ever…”
Very calmly, Eve leaped forward and wrapped her arms around George in a firm embrace. He reciprocated, unsteadily, his fingers softly feeling her warm flannel shirt. Eve rested her chin on his shoulder and took two cleansing breaths.
“We’re both here, now. We’re both,” she smiled.
She buried her face in his shoulder and laughed. It was a laugh of disbelief, shallow and quick. George moved his left hand upward and pulled her in closer. He smiled, too, sheepishly.
Behind them, Sam stood silently.
***
George and Eve sat side by side on a flat rock, illuminated by the flickering light of the campfire. His pack sat slouched against a nearby fallen log.
“How long ago was that?” George asked, gently.
Eve sucked in her lower lip. “It’s been about five years, now, I guess. We were traveling around, trying to avoid the plague ya know, and-” Eve cut herself off with a breath and straightened her posture before continuing on. “After everything, it was just a stupid fall that did it. It was raining – really pouring – my sister slipped, and I don’t know what it was: her back? her neck? Didn’t matter. She couldn’t keep going, and she knew it. I did, too, but wouldn’t admit it. So, she asked him to help her.”
George looked to the lifeless robot, standing blind guard in the middle of the campsite.
“She just didn’t want to die slowly… suffering. Sam was able to make it quick,” Eve said, clearing a small lump in her throat.
George stared into the fire in front of them. “I’m sorry.”
“I’d watched a lot of people die before we made it out, and you know how horrible the virus is, but this- she was almost calm.” Eve brushed a few flecks of errant soil from her jeans. “Anyways. It’s been just me and him ever since.” She noted George’s vacant stare, then looked to her time-worn android with a warm smile. “Sam’s good company, though.”
“It still operates okay?” George asked, with a nod to the shutdown machine that was Eve’s companion.
“Yeah, but his left arm hasn’t worked in a couple of years. I tried, I can’t fix it… don’t even know what’s wrong, to be honest. He hasn’t been keeping a charge like he used to, either, and I think all of this outdoor living has really done a number on his gears.” Eve clicked her tongue and shook her head in quiet realization. “So no, actually… he’s not really operating okay at all. He’s dying.”
George rested a comforting hand on her shoulder, letting it linger for a moment as his thumb ran over the fabric of her shirt. “Machines don’t die; they just become useless. Maybe it’s time to let it go.”
Eve turned to George, her brow creased and her eyes wide with pain. The look repelled George’s hand. “He’s not just an old appliance to be thrown away. Even if he’s falling apart, I- he saved me out here…”
George scratched through his beard and chuckled with a deep sigh. “Glad to see I still know how to put my foot in my mouth,” he said to himself, shaking his head. His gaze drifted.
In the depth of his thick, silver-veined beard, a yellow glint on George’s hand caught Eve’s eye. She saw for the first time that George wore a gold ring, which caught the reflected light of the campfire as it peeked out from his fingerless gloves. A simple band on his left ring-finger. Eve’s expression softened. George, noticing Eve’s lowered gaze and changed demeanor, brought his hand down from his face. He swallowed and looked back out onto the fire, as he slowly wound the ring in circles with his left thumb. The light of the flames danced in his hollow stare.
Eve reached her hand out, uneasily, towards George’s back, but he suddenly cleared his throat, which stopped her arm’s awkward advance. “Well, I don’t know a lot about those things,” George huskily drawled, “but I’ll take a look at Sam for ya. Maybe I can help.”
George slowly rubbed his hands along the tops of his thighs and pushed himself up with a grunt when they reached his knees. His eyes never left the fire in front of him. “I used to teach high school. World history.” He paused for a moment. “It’s been a long time since I was able to tell someone that.”
“I was still in college,” Eve responded, coyly.
George smiled and let out a short chuckle. Breaking his gaze, he walked over to Sam.
“Sam, wake up!” Eve called out.
Sam stiffly jolted to life with a racket and immediately noticed George standing before him. “Hello, sir.”
“Hey, I’m George.”
“Hello, George. How may I be of service?”
“Actually, I’m gonna see if I can do you a service. Take your coat off; I’ll check out that bad arm.”
Sam complied. George rolled the yellowed fabric of Sam’s left sleeve up beyond the elbow and examined the android’s arm: rotating it, raising it and letting it fall, feeling and listening for mechanical problems. Eve watched on as she stoked the fire.
“I dunno, buddy.” George scratched through the front of his dark, curly hair. “Here, take off that shirt; we’ll try going in through the side panel.”
Once more, Sam complied. His fingers clumsily pulled at the buttons as he struggled to undress himself with only one hand. George shifted his look downward and waited patiently, humming to himself an old tune he could no longer name. Sam’s synthetic skin bore a testament to the last several years of wear and tear: various scratches and dings, a deep cut along the top of his left shoulder, several punctures.
With Sam’s shirt finally off, George knelt down on the fallen log between them and popped open a small compartment door where Sam’s left ribcage would be. Dust blew into the air as the panel slid ajar, revealing an intricate grouping of computer boards in front of several mechanical gear couplings, a small digital screen that only faintly displayed its readout, and a cacophony of wires – some bundled into thick strands, others loose and frayed. With a deep breath, George began to pick through the excess and trace the wiring routes.
Sam looked to Eve. She rested her chin on the back of her hand and smiled softly at him, as a mother to a child. Sam smiled back.
***
The last traces of sunlight blurred upward from the horizon, giving way to a bright sea of stars in the dark evening sky. Eve sat on the fallen log in front of a roaring campfire. She took one final lick of her spoon before setting it into the empty bowl on the ground next to her. George reclined on his unfurled sleeping bag next to Eve and searched the stars above.
“I remember there was this photographer who had a whole series of altered pictures based on what cities’ skylines might look like without any light pollution.” His lips pulled into a smirk. “Didn’t do it justice.”
Eve glanced upward, then down to George at her side. “Yeah, I get lost up there sometimes. It was scary at first, though… watching the darkness grow, knowing that every fading bit of light meant another city had lost its power,” Eve said. She grabbed George’s empty bowl, set it on top of hers, and leaned over to toss both into the nearby wash-bucket. Eve continued, “My sister actually used to ask Sam to play back a recording of crickets he had in his database, just to break up the eerie nighttime silence.”
George rolled onto his side and propped his head up with a hand that disappeared in his thick beard. “I think I’d like to hear that when he gets back.”
“I had him delete it,” Eve responded, with a sorrowful grin.
After a nod, George leaned back again and clasped his hands behind his head. “I would, too,” he said softly.
“The world’s just so still, now. I felt like maybe I should leave it that way… let it rest.” The campfire popped and hissed, answering the silence. A thick, charred branch crumbled in the heat of the dwindling fire, collapsing to the ground in a burst of sparks.
“I was crossing through Missouri a couple of years ago, and I came out of this wood and saw an elk standing in a field nibbling at a bush. I froze – I mean, when was the last time you saw a living animal? Kind of a cruel fate that they went first, I think…” George trailed off. He scrunched up his nose and rubbed it with his fingers. “So, I just stood there, staring at this big beast: its coat all covered in twigs and dirt, patches of thinning fur, but definitely not starving. I figured, if the thing had lived that long it couldn’t have been sick, so after a few minutes, I started walking towards it real slow.”
Eve leaned in and anxiously interrupted, “What happened?”
“Would you believe it, the darn thing just looked up like he was expecting me. I’m standing there, as close as from here to your tent, staring at an elk who couldn’t care less that he’s suddenly not the only living thing around. He watched me for a moment, then went right back to eating. I swear, I could’ve walked right up and pet him… and he probably would’ve let me. He just had this real easy look in his eyes, no concept of tragedy.” George took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I’d picked up a rifle in the last town I’d passed through, considered using it. Couldn’t.”
“I don’t even remember what meat tastes like…”
George nodded and opened his eyes again to take in the sky above. “I ended up following him for the rest of the day. He led me to water, I picked up some fresh berries, but eventually I let him go off on his own again. I like to imagine he’s still out there, waiting to be unimpressed by another person wandering by.”
A chill rattled through Eve, and she pulled a second shirt from a nearby bin and draped it over her shoulders. “Do you think there’s anyone left?”
“In the whole world? I imagine so,” George stated plainly.
Eve glanced behind her, out into the dark forest.
“Sorry I couldn’t fix Sam’s arm. Of all the towns I’ve walked through, all of the libraries I’ve camped in, for some reason I never thought to pick up a series manual on robotic engineering.”
Eve grinned, before her brow dropped into a concerned frown. “You’ve been through cities?”
“Yeah.”
“How is it?” she shyly asked.
George sat up with a tired groan, stretched feeling back into his fingers, and warmed his hands by the fire. “About how you’d expect.”
“I honestly wouldn’t know what to expect. As soon as we realized the plague had started hitting people, we ran. Took my car until it was outta juice and then kept on going. Anytime I saw more than two buildings next to each other, I took us in the other direction.”
George offered a half-smile. “Smarter than I was,” he said, closing his fists together and pushing them under his arms.
“And the cities are safe? You never got sick?”
George shook his head. “Some of the solar grids are still running, too, so you’ll come up to a town with streetlights turning on at night or an automated train still running through a city. Really creeped me out at first.”
A dim, yellow glow in the black woods ahead suddenly caught George’s attention. The light appeared to dance from side to side as it slowly got closer. Eve, noting George’s stare, looked toward the tree line and smiled. She leaned toward George and whispered, “Night-light – good for keeping the boogeyman away.”
Sam staggered into the clearing, dragging a large tub of water behind him, his left arm dangling useless at his side. A faded light emanating from within his eyes flickered off as he made his way to the middle of the campsite. Waves of water sloshed back and forth in the bucket with each of Sam’s awkward steps.
“You can leave it there, it’s alright. Thank you, Sam,” Eve said.
The sound of gears skipping and metallic grinding echoed through the clearing as Sam stood up straight. “How else may I be of service, Eve?”
“Oh, I think I’m– we’re good. You can shut down for the night.”
“Yes, Eve,” Sam rattled. He stepped over to a dead tree at the edge of the clearing before turning off.
“I’m sorry… I think I made him worse,” George said with a guilty grimace.
Eve shook her head. “Nah, he’s had that head-shake for a while now.”
“Actually, I meant those gears. Sounds a heck of a lot louder than before.”
“Just the night air,” Eve quickly convinced herself.
George nodded, slowly. “Ya know, we could find oil in a town somewhere…”
Eve pursed her lips, and without acknowledging George, she stood up and placed the back of her hand on her hip. With a click of her tongue, Eve moved towards a tarp-covered pile next to her tent. She tossed the tarp up with, sending a flutter of brown leaves and specks of dirt into the air, and pulled a large plastic jug from a small ramshackle collection of dirty supplies. George watched as Eve came back and ladled the last remnants of soup from the cooking pot into a jar, popped a lid on top, and set the leftovers against a log. She grabbed onto the tub of water Sam had dragged up from the stream and gave it a hard tug. The plastic container only gave a few inches. George moved to help her.
“I got it, thanks.” Eve shot George a half-smile. He nodded sheepishly and sat back down on his bag.
With a grunt, Eve dug her heels into the dirt and pulled the sloshing tub up to the fire pit. She stooped down and transferred several jug-fulls of water from the tub to the cooking pot before heaving the tub onto her knees and pouring the rest in directly. The water sizzled as it fell into the blackness of the metal pot sitting next to the fire.
Eve flipped a strand of hair out of her face and played ‘display model’ to the pot for George with an overly toothy grin. “Now, you too can have a nice warm-water bath for the low, low price of $0.00!”
George applauded, slowly, with a wry smile on his face. “Sold.”
She placed a lid on top of the pot and sighed. George yawned as he stared at the black metal warming up his morning bathwater. Eve noticed and said, “Well, I think I’m going to shut down for the night, too,” with a nod to her android standing dormant across from her.
“Goodnight, Eve.” George leaned back onto his sleeping bag and gazed back up at the stars.
“’Night, George,” Eve returned. As she walked towards her tent, Eve pulled the ribbon off of her ponytail and let her hair drape onto her shoulders. She paused at the tent door, for several moments, before turning to face George again.
“So, are you okay out here, or…” Eve trailed off, demurely flicking the ribbon in her hand and avoiding the stares of the onlooking trees.
George laughed. “Well, you did buy me dinner.”
“Sorry. I’m not saying… that’s not what I’m getting at–”
George interrupted her, a chuckle in his voice. “It’s alright. Been thinking the same thing since about 10 seconds after I saw you.”
Eve shot her gaze back to George, hard, and furrowed her brow. “What?” she asked, a dry strain her voice.
George tilted his head to see Eve’s suddenly distressed look and propped himself up on his elbows. “Hey, no. I mean, I was thinking about your tent. That’s not euphemism either, by the way.” George raised his eyebrows waiting for a response.
Eve laughed.
“Don’t worry, I’m good out here. We met, you’re a person… that’s enough.” George took a deep breath. “I mean, unless of course you really, really, really want me in there with you, then, I guess–”
With a giggle, Eve shook her head and hid her face in her hand. “Okay, okay. No, that’s alright.” Eve stepped into her tent and said, “Goodnight, George,” before closing the flap behind her.
George leaned back onto his portable bedding and rested his hands on his stomach. He slowly wound the ring on his finger in circles and stared up into the heavens until he fell asleep.
***
A sea of faded grass stretched out before him. Cool autumn winds blew through the meter-tall blades, bending them and releasing them again to create a pale green wave pulsing through the foothills. To the north, a small mountain range glimpsed at him from above the tree line and faded off into the distance. Behind him, a rugged peak stood watching over the valley from several miles away. Its top half was already speckled in white, and between it and him were several waterfalls and lakes which eventually fed into a deep river, from which a stream forked off and meandered by the campsite. The sun had just peeked above the eastward forest, streaking faint shadows across the valley. Traces of clouds stretched across the horizon, with the promise of a cool but rainless day ahead.
Sam stood, at the edge of the woods, in silent observation. While the sensors in his hair and skin absorbed the early-morning rays, he took part in a work of living art, blending in with his picturesque surroundings as if he was a natural extension of the scenery.
***
George sat leaning against the fallen log next to the campfire, whittling at a softball-size chunk of wood with a small hunting knife. Eve stepped out of her tent in a tired flannel shirt and freshly washed jeans, her favorite t-shirt in hand. She plopped herself down on a large, flat stone to the left of George and examined the new hole in her shirt she’d discovered the other day.
“You don’t happen to have a needle and thread, do you?”
George flicked a few wood shavings off of his carving hand with a snap of his wrist. “Sorry.”
Eve sighed.
Pausing his work, George looked to Eve and said, “Anytime I need new clothes I just go shopping. There’s a world’s worth of brand new things out there.”
“This shirt’s my favorite. Bought it at school for my first homecoming game…”
“There’s a world’s worth of needles and thread out there, too,” George replied, a warm grin on his face. He returned to his carving.
“Yeah… what’re you making?”
“Dunno. I guess we’ll see what it turns into. The book I learned this from was pretty mystical about the whole process – said the material would reveal itself to be whatever form it desired. So, we’ll just see what grand ambition this particular piece of wood has, I guess.”
Eve chuckled. Just then, Sam ambled through the clearing’s entrance to the sun-lit field and walked over to Eve, who greeted him with a smile.
“Hi, Sam.”
“Hello, Eve. I have received a full charge. Shall I gather wood, now?”
“Sure, Sam. Thanks.”
The weary android turned around and limped towards the small pile of twigs and branches near the campfire. With the sound of snapping of metal, Sam bent down and picked up a tattered canvas bag. He held the bag with his one good hand and wandered through the thick brush into the woods.
“How long do his charges last?” George asked.
“A couple days, at most, if I let him rest a lot.” Eve toyed with the shirt in her hand, folding it in on itself several times and letting it unfurl again. “Hey. About last night…”
George continued to focus on his whittling. “Mm-hm?”
“I didn’t want to give you the wrong idea, but it’s not because you’re an ugly guy or anything.”
“What does it for ya more, the twigs in my beard or my lovely body aroma?” George asked with a laugh.
Eve gave the empty plastic tub next to the campfire a kick. “Well, we took care of the latter.” With a thoughtful tilt of her head, Eve examined George’s face. “You probably look better without a beard, too.”
A faint smile slid across George’s lips. “You wouldn’t be the first to say so.”
Eve held her t-shirt out in front of her, examining its overall condition with a dissatisfied strain on her face.
“I used to keep up with my shaving, especially during summer.” He gave his beard a stroke and continued, “Guess it’s been a while. Nobody to look presentable for out there except an unimpressed elk. Hmm.” George set aside his knife and piece of wood and stretched over to grab his backpack. Nearly a dozen safety pins were stored in rows along one side of the rugged blue pack, and several striped cords hung in loops off of the handle. He rifled through the bag for a moment before pulling out a mirror and safety razor. George looked back at Eve and said with a smile, “Any warm water left?”
***
Sam ambled along the rocky soil along a path worn by travel. In his right hand he held an old bed sheet, its corners bunched together at the top to create a sack. The makeshift bag bulged along the bottom, the occasional blue berry escaping out onto the ground as Sam’s awkward gait caused the sheet to haphazardly swing to and fro. Eve and George strolled along, several paces behind him.
“It’s funny, because that’s why I found you. I’m heading towards Phoenix,” George said, before taking in a deep breath of the cool mountain air. “Thought I’d get off the roads and take a straight path for a while.”
“Phoenix? I didn’t even know we were close.”
George smiled. “We’re not.” He reached into his jacket and pulled a folded travel map from an inside pocket. Its corners were bent every which way and as George lifted up the first panel, Eve noted that the creases of the map had grown soft and several small holes had formed in the folded intersections. George pointed to an open area of the map. “See, we’re here, and Phoenix…” George opened the map nearly as wide as his arms could reach and nodded to a far corner, “…is here.”
“Long walk.”
George conceded with a smile and an acknowledging tilt of his head as he folded the map back into a small square and tucked it away inside his jacket. “Never been there. Figured the weather should be nice for winter. Then from there, what do ya think… Mexico?”
Eve’s eyebrows popped up, and she shot him a look. “What do I think?”
George looked at her, a cautious, but warm, expression in his eyes. “Weather’s been good for traveling, lately,” he said, before awkwardly biting at his upper lip and looking out in the woods. “Figure we should wake up early tomorrow and head out.”
His words rattled through Eve, who stared past George and echoed, “We?”
“Yeah, of course.” He cleared his throat. “Why not?”
Eve looked down at the gravelly earth in front of her feet, then up to Sam, who was awkwardly stepping over a fallen branch. “I don’t know…”
“What, are we going to stay out here?” he asked, a lilting confusion in his voice.
Eve stammered, “I– I don’t…” Her eyes never left Sam.
George traced Eve’s gaze and lightly nodded. He stroked at his beard, but upon finding only freshly-shaved skin he sighed in remembrance and tossed his hand to the side. “Can’t stay forever, Eve.”
“No, of course not…” Eve said, faintly.
“I spent a long time wandering, hoping to find someone, and I did.” After several more steps, George pushed again. “There are two of us, now. We can go out there together, start anew.”
Her look was piercing, but sad, as she finally shifted her hollow stare away from Sam and turned to George. “Look, I’m glad you’ve been lucky out there, but that doesn’t mean it’s safe. The plague…?”
“I told you, I’ve-”
Eve looked back towards Sam and cut off George, continuing, “We go back, I don’t know what’ll happen. The three of us, trying to manage that kind of distance.”
George’s thinning patience was palpable, his face turning a light shade of red.
“Here, I know what we’re up against, at least. There? I’ve seen people die-”
“So have I!” George burst out; the anger in his voice caught him off guard and halted him in his tracks. Eve immediately recoiled and paused a few steps away from him. Sam, hearing the shout, stopped and slowly turned around to face them.
“Have you been injured, George?”
George glanced to the android sheepishly and took a couple of hard huffs, expelling the remnants of his emotional surge. He spoke softly to Eve, “Sorry,” then louder to Sam, “I’m okay, Sam.”
Sam turned his head toward Eve. She offered him a weak smile and a quick head nod. Sam looked at her a moment longer before awkwardly pivoting back around and walking onward.
George barely met Eve’s eyes as he stared at the distance between them. He raised his hands up to his shoulders, palms facing Eve. “Really. Sorry. Don’t know where that came from.”
Eve watched George uneasily. Her gaze drifted to the ring on George’s left hand. A thought hesitated on her tongue for a moment before she asked, “What was your wife’s name?”
He closed his fingers into loose fists and dropped both hands down to rest on his hip. George glanced up to Eve and searched her eyes for half-a-minute before averting his look again with a head nod. His thumb fiddled with a belt loop, and he stared right through the dirt at Eve’s feet. George breathed, “Carrie.” Hearing the name out loud melted his posture, and he searched the treetops with a sigh. George chomped at an invisible bit and pursed his lips. “Our son was Thomas.”
Eve winced her eyes closed and hung her head before looking up to George. “I’m sorry, George. If-”
“Our little girl… was Alison. My baby was…” George’s eyes grew thick with tears, his face contorting in restraint. He suddenly cleared his throat and looked to Eve again, forcing a smile. She nodded; apology accepted. “Yeah,” was all he could muster.
George pushed a breath out with a shrug of his shoulders, and the two followed after Sam in silence.
***
Sam placed the sack of berries on the ground next to the fire pit and turned around. Eve and George stepped into the clearing together, but George paused near the edge. Sam looked to Eve and asked, “How may I be of service, Eve?”
Eve approached her old friend and pulled a few twigs from his sun-bleached hair. “You can shut down for now, Sam, thanks.” As Sam stepped aside and turned off, Eve walked over to the folded sheet full of berries and untied the top knot, being careful to not let them run everywhere as she let the sheet lay flat on the ground.
“I’ll go gather some wood,” George said.
Eve looked to the overflowing pile of sticks. “We-” she began, before noticing for the first time that George was standing awkwardly, still at the edge of the campsite. His left hand fidgeted at his side. Eve smiled politely. “Okay.”
Following a curt nod, George walked across the clearing and grabbed the canvas carrier resting on top of the woodpile. Several sticks tumbled to the ground from the peak of the large pile. George smirked and chuckled through his nostrils with a shake of his head. He looked to Eve, who ignored the sound as she pushed the gathered berries into a tall heap.
“I think we have enough,” George admitted, tossing the canvas sack back. “No need to make a mountain out of a… mountain.”
Eve smiled, still looking at the berries in front of her. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”
George scratched at his nose and looked around the campsite, searching for a viable exit. “Guess I could use a nap,” he said, though the energy in his voice disagreed with that notion.
Looking up to him, Eve said, “Take the tent.”
Instinctively, George again went to brush his hand through a non-existent beard. Eve smiled. George raised his eyebrows. “Always takes some getting used to,” he said, giving his bare cheek a light tap. “Thanks for the tent. Us old guys, we tend to get grumpy when we’re tired.” He feigned a smile and lumbered off towards the tent. George paused before going in and kicked off his muddy shoes just outside the entrance.
Eve noted George’s gesture and thoughtfully rolled a berry between her fingers. She glanced over to his tired backpack leaning against a nearby log and clicked her tongue.
***
The slow-running stream washed over the freshly-picked berries, leaving a dim trail of dirt in its wake. Eve held the fruit in the water with her hands and gently tumbled them against one another. After pulling them out and giving them a hearty shake, Eve placed the final handful of berries onto a small towel at her side. She dried her hands on her jeans in several long strokes.
Eve peeked behind her, up the bank towards the campsite. She was alone. Cautiously, she reached underneath the towel and pulled out George’s mirror. Eve held its edges tightly and slowly brought it up to her face. Her eyes grew wide, then sad. Eve examined her skin, tracing the dirt-creased lines around her mouth. She softly pulled at her cheek. With her left hand, she pulled several strands of hair back behind her ear and felt the gauntness of her face.
“Sam… why didn’t you tell me? I look so tired.”
Eve sat on the riverbank for a while longer, gazing at herself in the mirror.
***
George pushed the tent flap aside and spied Eve sitting by the fire pit holding his whittling project. The wood block was still a rough, indistinguishable form, and Eve examined it thoughtfully, running her fingers lightly over the smoothed grain.
“It telling you what it wants to be?” George asked.
Eve startled, then calmly set the piece of wood down.
“Sorry,” he apologized.
“It’s coming along. I can tell you’re good at it.”
“Thanks,” George said, as he put his shoes back on and approached Eve. He squatted down next to her with a grunt and clasped his hands together. “Look, I’m sorry about earlier, too. Thought I’d gotten all that outta my system, but I guess not.” He rubbed at the back of his neck and continued, “Still a bit out of sorts getting used to this human interaction thing again, too.”
Eve sneaked a look at George’s backpack and nodded. “Yeah.”
“I want to make sure you know, though, that we’re together now no matter what. I’ve been out there, alone, and I’m sure as hell not choosing to go back to that. If you won’t go with me, then I’m staying here with you.”
“No matter what, huh?” Eve asked.
“Well, I mean… I wish you’d stop putting the moves on me, but I can deal with it.” George smiled and cast his eyes downward, unconsciously giving his ring a few light taps with his fingers.
Eve let out a chuckle, though her eyes were sorrowful. “No, I get it. Yesterday morning, me and Sam were the only ones still alive. Now you’re here, too, and I can’t even put it into words.” Eve looked over to her android companion, standing silent and still in the dwindling sunlight. She shook her head and sighed, “He can barely walk anymore, and he’s so slow. If I’m honest, Sam’s the reason we haven’t moved camp in a while. I always think, ‘Maybe today’s the day he’s not going to turn back on,’ or wonder if I’m going to find him face-down in the dirt with a broken neck.”
George rested his lips on his closed hands.
Eve quietly examined the desperate conditions in the clearing around her: a dilapidated tent, few supplies, torn and faded clothes. Her gaze rested on George’s backpack again. “I know you’re right, though. Obviously. I just don’t know how I can leave him after all of this.”
George perked his head up. “Hey, who said we’re leaving him? He’ll be a big help, I’m sure. If he can’t make it, we’ll find a way. I’ll go on ahead and find a truck or we’ll build a sled or whatever it takes.”
“Yeah?” Eve asked.
With a warm grin, George answered, “Of course. You’ve had Sam; now I’ve got the both of ya. I’m not letting that go.”
She glanced at Sam again. His stooped posture was that of an old man. The cuffs of his pants were frayed, his clothes permanently stained with a light dusting of dirt. Sam looked as tired as she did. Eve rested the knuckle of a bent finger on her chin and admired her old companion for a moment. “Okay.”
George’s eyebrows raised, as he leaned in for clarification. “Okay… as in ‘Yes, George, let’s go to Phoenix and you’re very handsome and this is a brilliant idea so let’s leave tomorrow’?”
Eve laughed. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” George smiled, warmly. “Well. Well, this calls for celebration, then,” George announced. He scrambled over to his backpack and opened a front pocket. Eve groaned in amusement as he pulled a small bottle of whiskey out of his bag. “Been saving this for either a happy occasion or a last meal.”
Eve popped her eyebrows and smiled. “Sam, wake up!”
***
The campfire burned strong, lighting nearly the entire clearing. The remnants of the wood pile were gone, all piled into the fire pit for its final night of use. Sam sat on the log in front of the pit, his right hand resting on his lap as fading embers trailed high above him. Eve sat on the ground next to him, leaning her shoulder against his leg. George was to their side, sitting cross-legged on his closed sleeping bag.
Eve and George were laughing hard.
“Oh man, I’d like to say it’s the booze, but it’s not. I’m just feeling… giddy.”
Eve held the nearly empty whiskey bottle out in front of her and squinted at it with one eye as she sloshed the remnants back and forth. “It’s definitely the booze for me. These jokes are so stupid.”
George wiped his teary eyes. “They’re kids’ jokes. Sam, hit us again!”
Sam turned and looked at George blankly. “Do you wish to hear another joke, George?”
“Please.”
Sam complied and started, “Knock knock.”
“Oh, no,” Eve jokingly groaned. She tossed the whiskey bottle back to George. “All yours.”
George was already chuckling as he said, “Who’s there?” He ignored the bottle.
“Candice.”
“Candice who?”
“Candice get any better?”
George and Eve exploded in laughter – he fell onto his side, she buried her face in Sam’s pant leg and the shaking of her shoulders sent vibrations through the fabric.
“It’s his delivery,” George managed to get out, amidst his attempts to catch his breath.
“What delivery?!”
“Oh, man.”
The two recovered from their fit of laughter, and Eve shifted herself to rest her chin on one raised knee. She stared deep into the flames as they skipped through the air in front of her. Eve’s eyes drifted out of focus. “I can have Sam wake us up at first light.”
George eyed the whiskey bottle next to him and glanced to Eve.
Without breaking her stare, she added, “Maybe a little later than that.”
Picking up the bottle, George took a final swig to empty it. He admired the bottle at arm’s length in satisfaction, and took to his whittling project. “Drinking and woodwork, what could go wrong?”
The three of them sat together in front of the fire until it had all but died down into a smoldering pile.
George covered a yawn with his hand. “Welp, guess that’s my cue to turn in.”
“You can have the tent tonight, if you like. I think I want to stay with Sam a little longer.” Eve still sat cozily at Sam’s feet, nestled against the android’s leg.
“Not too late, I hope. Big day tomorrow,” George said as he slowly stood up.
Eve stretched her arms wide. “Just a little longer.”
George took several steps towards the tent and turned back to Eve. “You didn’t have too much, did ya? Be sure to drink water.”
She raised her hand in a loose salute and winked.
With a shake of his head and a chuckle, George made his way into the tent and closed the flap behind him.
Eve picked up a few twigs and placed them onto the dying fire, stoking the ashen remains enough to rekindle a small flame. She traced the contours of her face with her fingers, back and forth, massaging in soft circles. Eve took in a deep breath and exhaled as she watched the night sky above her. Sam looked up, as well.
“How ya doin’, Sam?” she quietly asked.
Sam’s jaw clattered as he replied, “Diagnostic status: successful. Current battery charge: 63% remaining. Undefined mechanical failure: left shoulder joint system repai-”
“Yeah. I know, buddy. We’ll get ya there,” Eve interrupted. She gave Sam’s leg a comforting pat.
Sam remained gazing upward. A cacophony of grinding gears and skipping levers echoed from his chest, and he raised his hand to point towards a cluster of stars. “The constellation Andromeda. In Greek mythology, Andromeda was a beautiful princess who was rescued from a sea monster by Perseus, who turned the creature to stone by the use of Medusa’s head.”
“Story time, eh? Okay.” Eve rose to her feet unsteadily and balanced herself for a moment. She slowly treaded over to the small bin by her tent, not much quicker than Sam would, and picked up her old book. Eve plopped herself down on the log next to Sam and rested her back against his left shoulder, angling herself so as to have enough campfire light to read by.
“There was once a velveteen rabbit,” she began, “and in the beginning he was really splendid.”
Inside the tent, George lay awake, listening to Eve. He didn’t fall asleep until after she had finished the story.
***
Pastel morning light peeked through the canopy of trees above the campsite. Eve was curled up inside George’s sleeping bag, fast asleep. George sat in the dirt near her feet, whittling away the finer detailed points of his wood piece. Its form was obvious, now. The round body was formed by the flat planes made by a blade, and the face was featureless, but the piece was finely crafted. George gingerly blew a few thin shavings off of his hand and eyed his woodwork creation – an elk, standing proud in George’s hand. He held it up to show Sam, who still sat on the log where he was the night before.
“Whatta ya think?” George whispered.
Sam turned to George and quickly analyzed the wooden creation. He did not whisper. “A male deer, a mammal of the biological classification family Cervidae, formed of North American hardwood and standing 8.89 centimeters tall.”
Eve took in a deep breath, held it, and let it sigh out of her.
“Hey, I’m just glad you could recognize it,” George whispered. He pulled his wooden elk back in close and rubbed over a rough edge on its back with his thumb.
Groggily, with one eye half-shut, Eve pulled the sleeping bag from her face and peered at George. “I wanna see.” She sat up slowly and let the rest of the sleeping bag cover fall aside. Eve rubbed her face along where a fold in her bedding had imprinted a crease and looked up at the sky with a squint.
“Good morning, Eve,” Sam said.
“Hey, Sam. Why didn’t you guys wake me?”
As George handed her his wooden figure he answered, “You looked like you could use the rest.” He smirked as the elk traded hands. “Drool and all.”
Eve wiped the corner of her mouth, with a sheepish roll of her eyes. “Good morning, George,” she said with a dry sarcasm.
“Morning,” he responded, smiling.
She held the wooden deer up, close to her face and nodded approvingly. “Looks great! How much more is left to do?”
“Finito. Go too long, I’ve found, and ya take the chance of things going horribly wrong.” George took the carved figure back and set it on top of his backpack. “Don’t want to push my luck.”
Eve stared at the figure and failed to suppress a giggle.
“Yes?”
“It’s a whittle deer,” Eve grinned.
George shook his head at her in deadpan disapproval. “Now I see where Sam gets it.”
Eve laughed. She grabbed her jeans from on top of the sleeping bag and awkwardly put them on under the cover. Fully clothed again, she stood up and rubbed Sam’s left shoulder.
“How may I be of service, Eve?”
“You help George, okay?” Eve turned to George and said, “I’m going to go wash my face, then I’ll start cleaning up in the tent.” Eve’s ponytail hopped up and down as she all but skipped down toward the stream. “Candice get any better?” she yelled.
Sam turned to George. “How may I be of service, George?”
George scratched at his missing beard and searched the campsite. He gave Sam a quick once-over in consideration. “Hm. What’s your charge like?”
“Current battery charge: 54% remaining.”
“Well, tell ya what. Why don’t you go charge up until you’re at 70%, then you can come back and help us pack up the tent.”
Sam stood up and said, “Are we moving camp, George?”
“Yep.” George leaned over and rolled up his sleeping bag. “On our way to Phoenix, now.”
“Phoenix, Arizona: last recorded population 5.8 million.”
George stood his rolled bag on end and leaned on it. “Yeah, well… now it’ll probably be just me and Eve.” He reflected on this bittersweet idea for a moment, then looked up to Sam who was staring at him blankly. “And you, too, of course. She sure as heck isn’t leaving you behind.” Eve walked by, a glow in her eyes and a wistful smile on her lips, as George continued, “We’ll see if we can’t get you all patched up somewhere along the way, too. You’re going to be a big help.” George knelt in the dirt and tied a cord around his sleeping bag.
Sam watched Eve walk into her tent and disappear behind the closed flap.
Without warning, Sam lurched his right hand towards George and grabbed onto his throat! Sam’s firm grip slowly tightened, crushing the airway in George’s neck. Amidst the breathless sound of George gasping, Sam’s internal gears turned with thunderous shrieks. The suffocating man feverishly pounded on Sam’s outstretched arm, but the android could not be moved.
George’s eyes were wide in horror; Sam was without emotion.
“I still can’t believe all of this, ya know?” Eve cheerfully called out from her tent. “It’s like Christmas came early!”
As Sam’s fingers slowly pressed deeper into his flesh, George desperately reached out for something to strike the android with. His knife, just out of reach. Nothing but dirt. George’s hands were losing their momentum. A twig. The veins in his face bulged. He swiped at Sam’s torso, but couldn’t get past the mechanical man’s long reach. The sleeping bag, too heavy to lift. George’s eyes fluttered backwards. He clapped his hands together in several sloppy bursts.
Drawn by the curious noise, Eve stepped out of her tent. Caught off guard by what she saw, Eve stumbled.
“Sam! …stop!” Eve shouted, wide-eyed in shock.
George was already dead. Sam released him, and as George’s lifeless body fell to the ground, Eve fell to her knees.
She screamed at Sam, “What are you doing?! Get away!”
Sam took several labored steps backwards, a difficult task. “I am helping, Eve.”
Eve scurried over to George’s body. “How?!” Panicked, she searched for signs of life, but found none.
Sam watched Eve pound on George’s chest, tears rolling down her cheeks. “George wants to take us to Phoenix, Arizona. Cities are dangerous. You told me to help George.”
A sudden, horrific understanding washed over Eve. She closed her eyes and exhaled a faint, “No.” Eve lowered her face to George’s chest.
Sam looked down at George’s lifeless body, then to his own lifeless left arm. With a sudden twitch of his shoulder, and a loud skipping of gears, Sam slowly raised his left forearm! He admired his newly working appendage, turning his hand and flexing rusted fingers that had not moved in years. After a moment, he looked to Eve, who was gently sobbing into George’s shirt. “How else may I be of service, Eve?”
Eve barely pulled her head up, her red eyes shifting aimlessly. Locking her gaze onto George’s dead body at her fingertips, her voice finally strained out an answer. “Shut down, Sam. Now.”
She looked up to Sam. He held his left arm up for her to see, and smiled at her. Eve did not smile back.
“Yes, Eve.”
Shoulders slumped, his head tilted to one side, Sam went to sleep. His left arm remained up in display, locked in place as a friendly wave, made only more eerie by the half-smile that lingered on his face.
***
The campsite was barren. Eve’s dismal remains of a garden had been uprooted. A fresh mound of dirt covered the ground where the tent once was – George’s final resting place, marked only by a small wooden figurine resting on top of it. Eve held her few belongings in a large bag over her left shoulder, with another heavy satchel in her right hand. George’s backpack hung behind her, and she wore his coat. The road map peeked out of the front breast pocket.
Eve stood, her back to the clearing entrance, facing Sam. “I’m going to the city, Sam. You stay here.” She took a moment, considering her decision one final time. Tucked inside Sam’s jacket was a well-loved copy of The Velveteen Rabbit. Eve reached for his extended left hand with her own and lightly clasped it.
Her eyes glassed over and her lower lip quivered, the light in her eyes now extinguished. A million words were left unsaid.
“Goodbye, Sam.”
Eve let go of Sam and lowered her head. She took several steps backwards and turned to venture off on her own into the bright field ahead. Sam stood, silhouetted by the sun, as he was – and as he will always be.
The End
by Mark Mushakian, 2016