Author's Note: Thanks for all of the encouraging reviews, this couldn't have been done without you guys!
Another Disclaimer (Ugh): All of the products in this story belong to their respective companies (though I own some of them in my kitchen), H.G. Wells has the story, the Spielberg has the characters, and I still have Robbie. Chained in my basement.
Don't Panic
Chapter Two
"Sanctuary... is a word which here means a small, safe place in a troubling world, like an oasis in a vast desert or an island in a stormy sea. The Baudelaires enjoyed their evening in the sanctuary they had built together, but in their hearts, they knew the troubling world was just outside."
—Lemony Snicket, Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events
It felt intensely awkward, staying at the place that night. It wasn't like they had much of a choice; it wasn't like there were tons of people offering sanctuary in this crippled city. Even if there was, Ray wasn't so sure he'd be so trusting. Not after what happened in Ogilvy's basement. So, in the house they stayed, and both Robbie and Ray made sure that Rachel didn't make any close encounters with the bodies. The corpses had been moved to the grandparents' bedroom, but Ray noted that there were only two. Mary Ann and Tim's were nowhere to be seen. This sparked a little bit of hope in his empty body; the minuscule hope that they were still alive. Once the sun had gone down, Ray gathered the small amount of food that hadn't been looted and brought it up to Mary Ann's old bedroom. The room had remained unchanged over the years. Even that E.T.: The Extra Terrestrial poster was still there, sunwashed and curling at the edges where it hadn't been taped down.
"Hey, remember that movie, Rachel?" Robbie grinned smugly; trying fish with his hands in the box of Cheese Nips and make a gesture to the poster at the same time. "E.T. phone home," he quoted mockingly as Rachel dipped began the covers of Mary Ann's bed.
"Shut up!" came her muffled voice beneath the comforter.
"Don't tell me Rach was scared of E.T.," Ray laughed a little.
"Scared was an understatement. She was pretty much petrified and wouldn't talk to Mom for, like, a week," Robbie explained, his eyes falling on the faded poster again. "God, she loved that movie. Mom, I mean."
Ray got up from the foot of Mary Ann's bed to the window. There weren't any tripods in sight, but the burning city was ominous enough. "Here's guessing that they didn't come for Reese's Pieces." He looked back at Rachel, who'd emerged from under the covers, her face still slightly reddened in embarrassment.
Rachel, who'd grown hungry for not eating anything since the hummus back at her father's house, looked longingly at the pile of food on the floor. "Why'd the people leave so much?" she asked softly.
"I think there's a theme here," Ray replied. "Cheese Nips, Easy Mac, skim milk, frozen pizza, Easy Cheese… they must've been lacrosse intolerant, or whatever that is."
"Lactose intolerant," Rachel was quick to correct.
"Like I said, whatever," said Ray, a little annoyed, and reached out for the Easy Cheese, spraying it in his mouth. It was a lot of dairy products that all pretty much tasted the same, but he hadn't eaten in days and his stomach snarled greedily for more.
"Robbie," Rachel whispered, resting her chin on her knees and consuming some of the Cheese Nips in ravenous amounts. "How—what happened?"
Robbie, who'd already eaten his fill, was pulling off his shirt and flaunting even more burns running down his right side, these pinkish red patches accompanied by blisters. It looked even more eerie than it usually would have in the light of the flames in the distance. "What do you mean?"
"What do I mean?" Rachel repeated, sounding injured. "How did you survive, make it all the way here, by yourself?"
"I…" the teenager looked horrified. "All I remember… there was fire… and—there was this soldier guy and he—he pulled me in the humvee thing and—he, I don't know… it was all so fast… we got the—the bottom of the hill, near this house, and he… he got shot… or something. Then I ran. I tried to fight, but all I did was run. I should've died… I deserved it…"
Rachel's light eyebrows furrowed together. She'd gotten out of the bed, and stood in front of her brother. "I'm glad you ran. You think I want you to be dead? I love you."
"You are so full of crap," Robbie laughed, and, surprisingly, so did Rachel and Ray.
Rachel offered a thin smile to her father. "Weren't you going to teach us how to play poker?"
Ray paused, considering this. "Yeah… yeah, I did, didn't I? Well, I don't think I have cards on me—" he dug through his pocket, and something cold and hard fell out. It was—it was that stone thing… that frozen rock that had been near the deep crevice the lightning tore open. It was glowing iridescently in the faint light. Despite the sudden interest of the object coming from his children, he cast it aside, and unveiled that old Bicycle playing card deck still intact inside its box. Ray unsheathed it, grinning oddly.
"Hey—wait, do you know how to play 'Go Fish'?" Rachel asked, her eyes brightening in the semi-darkness.
"Go—what?"
"Dad, you don't know how to play Go Fish?" Robbie shook his head in fake shame of his father. "Then Rach'll have to teach you. She's quite the Go Fish expert, so you'll have some competition."
"Well, at least you inherited the ole Ferrier card shark gene," Ray's grin broadened.
An hour later, a frown and a frustrated, creased forehead replaced Ray's grin. He was getting his ass kicked by a little girl—his own daughter—thirty years his junior.
"Do you have any sevens?" Rachel inquired sweetly, delighted in her winning streak.
Ray glared at her, surrendering his seven of hearts. She placed the pair of sevens on the carpeting, and beamed with her crooked teeth. She held no more cards in her hand. He'd lost. Again. Well, Robbie did, too, but apparently, he'd gathered up enough time to get used to it. Ray, however, was a different story.
"Oh, you'll see, one of these times, I'll beat you with your Go Fish… mind… games," he struggled to finish the sentence.
"Um, Ray," Robbie began, gaining his father's attention by the horribly timed use of 'Ray'. "It's—it's—it's," he attempting to fight off a huge yawn as he spoke. "Late. Maybe we should save this for tomorrow."
"Yeah," Ray agreed softly, rubbing his eyes.
"You would've lost anyway," Rachel mumbled, smiling slyly as she retreated to Mary Ann's bed ("Back problems," she'd explained effortlessly, and Robbie and Ray didn't argue), while Robbie and Ray laid on the floor, propping their heads against pillows they'd snagged from the couch.
"'Night Dad, 'night Robbie," Rachel whispered, snuggling one of her plastic horses, Captain Oats.
Ray finally regained his smile, in the darkness. The day, these past few ones… they'd been the worst he'd ever lived through. At least now, temporarily, there was a sanctuary for them to take rest in. Their oasis. But, he knew, this was probably only the calm before the storm.