The NOTE
As Thomas looked through the window to the dusty, leaf-strewn path, he knew his life would forever be changed. His mother had left the house a short time earlier with the admonition to," Stay hidden, no matter what happens. Do not answer the door for anyone!" So for a short time, Thomas hid in his room. He looked at the Legos he seldom played with and the TV that had been dark since the power went out 2 weeks earlier. Time passed slowly as he waited for his mother. Thomas grew tired of waiting in his slowly darkening room and walked back to the first floor. He walked first into the kitchen, thinking he would get something to eat, but it was too much work to make anything. He decided instead to watch for his mother through the boards covering the front windows, figuring she would not be too mad as long as he was not visible when she came home.
His view from the window was limited by the fact darkness was falling and his mother and Tim had put the boards so closely together. That was before Tim had left and did not return. That had been a week ago and Thomas could tell that his mother was bothered that her boyfriend had not come back. Thomas did not like Tim as much as his mother did, but he was better than most of the men that had pretended to be his dad.
From Thomas' perch by the window he also had a view of the basement door. Two padlocks and a deadbolt seemed to fill his vision as he gazed at that wretched door. His mother never let him go down the rickety old steps, but he knew what he would see if he ever did. He shuddered a little as he turned back to the window, hoping to see his mother, but seeing only the ever growing shadows. He knew with each passing minute the chances of her appearing grew smaller. Sweat broke out on his face as he thought back to what he was supposed to do in the event she did not return. He knew he had to go get the list from his dresser, sooner rather than later, so that he could still read it in the failing light. They had one flashlight that still put out a feeble light, but his mother's first rule was not to turn on the flashlight unless there was an emergency.
Thomas rose from his place at the window, climbed the stairs to his room passing his siblings rooms on the right and left. Their doors were closed and Thomas figured they would never be open again. He missed them both, but understood the consequences of their choices. As the youngest kid in the family his mother had worked harder to keep him under control after what his siblings had done.
When he arrived in his room he grabbed the list. He did not really need to even look at it any more. He had memorized it the very first day when his mother entrusted it to him. When he saw his mother's writing on the page, he sat heavily on his bed. Even though he was only twelve, Thomas understood this may be the last glimpse he would have of his mother.
He allowed himself a short cry that ended as a gunshot split the air. It was not as close as the others he had heard on previous nights, but it brought him quickly back to the list. He quickly began the list, closing doors and hanging blankets. He prepared the barricades for each door leaving the front door for last. When the house was locked up tight and everything was done except the front door, he made his first adult decision. Thomas was going to open the front door. He had to look and had to know that his mother was not coming.
He found himself energized by the chance to do something for himself. The chance to not just follow the list. He undid the locks from bottom to top and swung open the door. Feeling a rush he looked out on the cul-de-sac. Everything was the same it had been for the last two weeks. The cars still parked in driveways. The neighbor's paper on their front walk. The trees were changing colors as their leaves began to fall. He glanced quickly, searching for signs of movement. He saw nothing moving and his elation fell. As he hung his head and as he began to turn, he caught a glimpse of something on the front porch. It was a small rock with a piece of paper caught under the edge. He stooped down to pick it up and as he stood he was and was struck by how vulnerable he felt out and exposed. He quickly turned on his heel, threw the door closed, and bolted the locks.
It was now dark enough in the house that he had to make a choice. He knew it was against his mother's rule, but emboldened by his first adult act he decided on a second. He grabbed the flashlight from the counter and with a shaky hand read the words his mother had chosen to write. The words swirled on the page as the meaning of the words sunk in.
When Thomas awoke it was pitch black inside the house. He did not know how long he had been unconscious, only that it was long enough for the flashlights feeble power to run out. It did not matter though. Thomas stood on shaky legs and felt his way to his mother's room and found a second flashlight in her dresser. When he flipped the switch, the light blazed to life and he was temporarily blinded. That was when he knew it was time. Thomas descended the stairs and walked to the basement door. He knew the numbers by heart, they were the next to last item on the list, and he spun each padlock in turn. When the locks were off he turned the deadbolt that clunked with a finality that almost drove Thomas to run to his room and hide.
As he swung open the door and the light fell on the stairs, Thomas began to feel each second. He stepped lightly down the dusty, worn treads. Each stair making its own little noise as his weight settled on them. When he reached the bottom he turned to the back wall and saw two mounds of dirt with the little crosses. What made him begin to cry were the two empty holes beside them, one small and one larger. He hid his face in his hands when he realized only one would be filled and sat upon the step. As he looked up after a short while he noticed that only one of the two guns were hanging above the workbench where the list said they would be and he realized why his mother never came home. She had left him to complete the last item on the list alone. He had one last adult choice to make as he stood and reached above the bench, knowing it was time.
