White Out: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller by Eric Dimbleby

seeping through his undershirt. “You huwt?” he asked Edgar.
                  “Don’t mind that. I spilled some jelly on me before I came to stay with you and your pop.”
                  “Stawbewwy?”
                  “Nope,” Edgar replied, “Raspberry. That sound good?” Paulie nodded. Yes, that sounded fantastic. He hadn’t eaten any peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in a long time, not since his Mama was still at home.
                  His stomach growled at the thought of a sandwich like his mother used to make, with the crust cut off and everything.
    Paulie led him into the basement, keeping one step ahead of the man. He seemed like a tough sort of fellow, much more so than his Daddy. Paulie couldn’t remember ever meeting anybody like Edgar. He only knew friends of his parents and family members, but none of them was anything like Edgar. That wasn’t such a bad thing, so Paulie decided.
    Edgar wore cool looking cowboy boots, so Paulie couldn't help but ask a hundred questions about them. His father always said that it was rude to ask a lot of questions when you're talking to adults, but Edgar seemed pretty excited about his boots. He said they were his special boots, and that he couldn't ever think of being without them.
    When they reached the bottom of the staircase, Paulie put up his hand to Edgar, indicating that he should stop where he was, just a couple of steps higher on the filthy old staircase. That way he could get a good look at the boots. There was a fancy design on the sides of them, with a horse and a guy riding that horse. It was hard to see it without squinting his eyes, but Paulie could make out the shape enough to know it was definitely a horse. He’d never been on a horse, but his father promised to take him riding one day. That day might never happen if it didn’t stop snowing.
    " You takin’ a shine to my boots. That there’s a stallion, little man. In the old days, a stallion meant something important to the men of the world. It was a symbol. You know what a symbol is?" Edgar asked, looking down at the boy. When Edgar smiled, his teeth looked like they didn’t really line up right, like he had too many of them.
    Paulie shook his head, still scrutinizing the design on Edgar's boots, trying to imagine what kind of place would sell boots like that. They definitely couldn’t be found in the stores that Mama and Daddah went to. The clothes they sold at those places were boring. Edgar was probably the least boring person Paulie had ever encountered.
    "A symbol is something that means something else. Like a stallion is a symbol for a tough guy, like me. There's lots ‘a other symbols in the world. Like a rainbow means gay folks." Paulie had no idea what gay-faulks were. "The cross," he said, pulling a thin brown necklace from inside of his shirt. It had two wooden sticks that were crossed in the middle, "The cross stands for Jesus Christ, and how he died for us. There be symbols like these everywhere, kid. You just gotta look real fuckin' close."
    Paulie knew that word.
    Dadd ah used it once when he slammed the big hammer against his thumb, while he was fixing his mother’s wobbly dresser drawers. That wasn't a good word, but it was okay because Edgar was a nice guy. His father said that sometimes adults used that word, even though it was bad, and it didn’t necessarily make them bad guys.
    "Are you a scallion ?" Paulie asked, knowing that he messed up the word. Edgar half grinned at this, once again showing his silly looking teeth. The big man in the big boots knew that Paulie had messed up the word as well.
    "You bet I'm a stallion. Stallion is a kind of horse, but much tougher. A stallion can survive, no matter what the hell happens around him. A stallion stomps hard and runs harder. Shit, kid, a stallion is standin’ right in front of you. Hells bells."
    Those sounded like more words that his mother had warned him about. Paulie