Decisions by Judy Colella (electric book reader .TXT) 📖

Charlie opened the box. Its contents – pieces for six popular table games – rattled as he placed it on the floor in front of him. He leaned back, wondered for a second why his knees hurt, and looked up. “Which one today?”

“Checkers.” His back to Charlie as he stared out the small window, Mika shrugged. “Not that it matters.”

“Sure it does.” Gina, sitting cross-legged facing Charlie on the creaking wooden floorboards, folded her arms at her waist. “You always win at checkers.”

“You choose, then.” Mika took a step back from the window, turned, and waved a hand at the game box.

She sighed. “I suck at all of them.”

“I know.”

Charlie sat straighter. “Stop it. Fine. I say Backgammon. Tripp?”

The only one who had remained quiet so far shifted in the metal chair at the small camp table. “That stupid box holds our only means of entertainment, so let’s go a little wild. I say Pick-up Sticks.” He grinned.

“That’s for babies!”

“Yeah, Gina, which is how you’re all acting.” Tripp got up, chair legs scraping along the floor, the rubber tips long gone. “Besides, we haven’t played that yet.”

“Ya think?” Mika crossed his ankles and lowered himself, grunting, to form a three-sided circle.

Tripp joined them. Circle complete.

“Okay, let’s see…” Charlie reached into the box, his fingers scrabbling around to get all the thin pieces of multicolored wood at once. “Here we go.”

Mika put the top back on the box and moved it away. “Who wants to drop them?”

Tripp put out a hand. “I’ll do it.”

Charlie shifted from his knees to the cross-legged position of the others, wincing, after handing over the sticks.

“Okay! Tripp tapped the ends against the floor, raised his hand, palm upward. “Ta-da!” He released the sticks, smiling as they rattled against the floor in colorful disarray.

Mika, not waiting for the usual who-goes-first discussion, picked up the topmost stick and put it in front of him.

Complaining about Mika’s pre-emptive move was, in Charlie’s opinion, pointless. He was too tired, anyway, and his knees still hurt. What the hell? “Gina, you want to go next once Mika is done? We’ll do the usual player-on-the-left thing, I guess.”

“Sure.” Her brows had drawn together and she was shooting a sideways glance at Mika.

Play continued in silence, except for the occasional snick of the sticks, a soft profanity now and again, and the sound of the wind picking up.

Tripp won.

“Anyone miss the internet?” Charlie had begun to gather the sticks from their small piles in front of the other three.

Mika smacked him on the arm. “Dammit! We made a promise never to talk about that stuff, Charlie – what are you thinking?”

“Great. Now I’m depressed.” Gina stood and went to the far side of the room where she grabbed one of the small squares of cloth from a pile on the shelf. Blowing her nose, she came back to the group. “Good job, Charlie.”

He shrugged. Didn’t care. The pain in his knees had gotten worse and he was beginning to think he would need help standing. Cover back on the box, he handed it to Tripp. “Put this away, would you?”

“Sure. Something wrong?”

Should he tell them? They’d been here so long, breathing in whatever got wind-shoved through the tiny cracks around the windows and under the door, through the rough planks of wood from which the cottage was constructed, he knew they must all be infected by now. Like him. Was he the first to be feeling the symptoms? No one else had complained or looked to be in distress, so maybe he was.

“Charlie?” Gina had gone to her haunches in front of him. “What is it?”

He shook his head. Telling them might cause panic. He frowned. That was the reasoning the government had used for not warning their citizens what was coming. How many might have escaped the effects had they known? He looked into her eyes. Much older eyes than those he remembered from when they’d first found this place. “I… hurt.”

“Where?” Mika joined Gina, his scowl different from the angry one he more often wore.

“My knees. They started to hurt earlier when I was taking out the game, but they’ve gotten worse.”

“Have you been drinking enough water?”

“No, Tripp. It tastes like sulphur and I think it might be part of what’s wrong with me.”

“Well.” Tripp returned to the metal chair. “Guess it’s just a matter of time before we all have to deal with it.”

“It’s always been a matter of time. Someone help me up, please.” Charlie tried to gather his legs under him, but couldn’t get his muscles to cooperate with his knee and ankle joints.

“Here.” Mika got behind him, slid his arms under Charlie’s, and hauled him upright. “Can you walk?”

Nodding, Charlie took a step, sure he could. No, he couldn’t. With a cry forced from this throat by pain, he crumpled to the floor.

Outside, the particulates swirled in a furious dance as the wind became a poorly organized tornado in the yard. He could see its top through the window from his position on the floor. Open mouth, breathe deep.

“Come on, Charlie, let’s get you to your bed.” Gina had tears in her eyes.

“Why bother? Just toss me outside. It’ll be quicker. I’m almost eighty anyway. Let’s just get it over with.” He closed his eyes, awaiting their decision – they’d talked about this many times. He was ready.

***

Mika placed the box on the floor, pulled off its top, and looked up at Gina and Tripp. “So. Cards or pick-up sticks?” The pain in his legs had begun the night before, but he wasn’t ready to admit it.

“Up to you,” said Gina.

Tripp shrugged.

“Go Fish, then.” Smiling to mask the pain, blinking away thoughts of Charlie, Mika took out the dog-eared deck of cards.

Text: Judy Colella
Publication Date: 01-17-2019

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
To the future.