America's Sunset: A Post Apocalyptic Fight for Survival by Norman Christof

There were a few chores he missed, and he did say he wanted to do some fishing at the river, but I don’t think he’s even looked for his fishing rod.”
    “Oh. Hmmm.”
    “That’s not really much of an answer, pumpkin. Do you know where he is?”
    “Yeah, but you’re going to be mad.”
    “I promise I won’t be mad,” Dawson replied, but apparently not convincingly enough based on the silence.
    “Can I bribe you?” Dawson tried again.
    Veronica looked at her doll for a second, then nodded her head slightly.
    “Hmmm now.” Dawson paused briefly, rubbing his chin in mock wonder. “I wonder what a little girl with a brand new doll would like more than anything in the world.”
    Veronica’s seriousness started to crack just a glimmer.
    “I bet that a little girl with a new doll would love nothing better than to wash up the dinner dishes together.”
    The glimmer of a smile quickly disappeared from her face.
    “Oh, OK. Bad guess, Dad. There must be something she’d like to do. I know.” Dawson raised his hand, pointing his index finger. “I bet that she’d simply love to scrub the toilets with the help of her new little friend.”
    “Ahhh c'mon, Dad, that’s really gross. Do you have any idea how disgusting Chase is in there?”
    “Oh wow, is that right? I am such a terrible guesser. I’m gonna have to let you give it a shot. Maybe the perfect little girl sitting next to me might have a better idea. I remember someone telling me that girls are way smarter than boys, so maybe you could help me out here.”
    The glimmer of a smile broke into outright giggles. She pulled the doll from its hiding place against her chest, and propped her up facing her Dad. “As a matter of fact, I do have the perfect idea. Miss Charlie …”
    “Oh, so you’ve given her a name now I see.” Dawson nodded approvingly.
    “Dad, don’t interrupt. It’s rude,” she answered with as stern a face as possible, still unable to restrain the giggles.
    “It’s a very nice name,” Dawson continued, nodding even more earnestly.
    “You’re still interrupting, Dad.”
    “Sorry, sorry … no more,” Dawson added contritely as he mimed a zipper closing across his lips.
    “Miss Charlie and I would love to have your company at our next tea party.”
    “That sounds perfect. I’d love to come,” he replied instantly, rubbing his hands in anticipation. “When is it?”
    “Right as soon as we head up the stairs to my room of course.” Veronica mustered her cutest ‘pleassssse-daddy’ smile ever.
    “Fine, fine,” Dawson agreed reluctantly. “But don’t forget your part of the bargain.”
    “He’s in his room.”
    “I called up already, he didn’t answer. Are you sure?”
    “He’s got headphones on.”
    “Headphones? Why? Wait. He’s not playing that damn game again, is he?” Dawson started up the stairs two at a time.
    “Dad, wait. What about our tea party?” Veronica’s bottom lip drooped ever so slightly.
    “Just give me a few minutes. Right after I talk with your brother about the video game rules around here again.” Dawson turned back up the stairs.
    Before he could reach the top step though: “Dad, you promised me. Me and Miss Charlie. It’s the first promise you ever made her. You can’t break the first promise you make someone. They’ll never trust you again.”
    Dawson’s hand rested on the topmost stair post and he looked skyward, rolling eyes which Veronica couldn’t see. “You’re right, of course,” he answered, turning around. “You’re absolutely right. I couldn’t do that.”
    Veronica smiled as she took her dad’s hand at the top of the stairs and directed him towards her room.
    Dawson couldn’t help but think just how clever kids could be. Especially this one. It’s like she knew a fifteen-minute tea party would take all the fight out of him, and probably save a major clash with his son.
    “You’re quite the little peacemaker aren’t you, kiddo?”
    “I don’t know what