Barren Waters - The Complete Novel: (A Post-Apocalyptic Tale of Survival) (12 page)

“For the other boy,” she said softly. “For Peter.”

Her eyes searched his, and to his dismay he saw the depth of her understanding within them. She knew. She’d always known. All this time she’d known and said nothing. He scanned her eyes for any hint of accusation, any suggestion of recrimination, but there was none. She pushed herself to her feet, stepped forward, and peered down at him from the bridge of her nose.

“It’s okay Dad. I know. But what you did was unforgivable. I’ve struggled with it and examined it from all perspectives. It wasn’t right and you know it.”

Her hands fluttered at her sides and he realized that this was hard for her. God, how he admired her. She was a marvel to him, at times much wiser than her years.

“I’ll tell you that there’s no perspective, no angle I’ve yet been able to find that makes what you did okay. It was reprehensible and it’ll always be reprehensible, but I also know that you did it for me.”

She shifted uncomfortably on her feet then crouched low, reached for his belt where a tiny key ring hung, and unsnapped it from the loop. It tinkled softly as she lifted it, a miniature stuffed bear with a collar around its neck and a tiny bell attached. It was grimy and faded, yet he startled when he saw it. She examined it in her open palm then closed her hand and slipped it into her pocket. She spun away, picked up her pack, and disappeared down the dark aisle, her last words lingering in the air like an exotic perfume.

“I forgive you,” she said as she turned the corner, and with that, his tears spilled anew.

Somehow he eventually untangled himself from Seth. He lifted him over his shoulder and carried him through the store as he and Sam searched for more supplies. Good God. The boy couldn’t weigh more than forty pounds. Together the three found a meager collection of items to add to their baskets, a screwdriver that’d fallen between the rear ledge of a metal shelf and the wall, a box of dry Saltines, and several dusty rolls of Lifesavers. Sam found small glass bottles of paprika and curry in the spice aisle, useless to many, but valuable to those who enjoyed lentils.

They gave the pharmacy a wide berth and now stood, shoulder-to-shoulder outside the store entrance. Jeremy stooped low and set Seth to his feet. He smoothed his shirt and wound a cord through the belt loops of his pants, pulled tight and looped it securely against itself.

“That ought to get us as far as your house. Don’t you have some better clothing there?”

Seth nodded and crinkled his brow. “What about my Mom?”

Sam stepped forward and crouched. “I was thinking that the three of us first have a hot meal and a good night’s sleep, and then tomorrow we can come back and give her a proper burial.”              

She lifted her finger and pointed toward the crest of a hill where light from the rising crescent moon shone on the grass. “There were some old shovels back in the store,” she continued, “I think it’d be nice if we bury her up on that hill and say a prayer. What do you think?”

Wordlessly, Seth nodded and offered her his hand. She pulled him toward the bikes until he stopped short. “Won’t the bad men still be at my house?”

Jeremy stopped as well. He had a point. “We’ll approach slowly,” he advised. “I’ll check it out first and we’ll go in only if it’s safe.”

He and Sam followed Seth’s directions as they walked the bikes. As Seth’s comfort level increased, he became quite chatty. He told them how his father had gone for a supply run three years back and never returned, how ‘bad men’ had ambushed his home late in the night, but that cleverly, the tiny bells his mother tied to the top of the door had warned them, and so they’d gotten away unnoticed. He told them that according to his parents, his family was the last on their block, probably the last in their little town at all. His father had credited their survival to the structure and organization of their lives. Well, that, and the flat surface of their roof, Seth prattled on with a laugh.

Jeremy thought Seth’s father sounded a bit like his own. Seth’s father had barricaded the house, Seth explained. He’d set up a system of rain catchers on one side of the roof, and complex fruit and vegetable gardens on the other. He and Seth’s mother had planted beans and nuts, root vegetables, and citrus fruits in a series of pots and planters, and had maintained a compost heap for re-fertilization of the soil. All this, he’d gathered in bits and pieces as Seth trotted beside them breathlessly.

“Mom told me that Dad set up the system years before I was born.” His smile was big. Proud. “I was an ‘oops’ baby, she told me, but Dad had started saving supplies years before. He said that’s how we survived while nobody else did.” Seth lifted his face to Jeremy’s in the half-light of twilight. “Where are all the people, Carp? They couldn’t have all just disappeared.”

“They didn’t just disappear, Seth. You’re right. This began years before you and Sam were even born. You and Sam never went to school like I did when I was a kid. Society was beginning to crumble even then, and unfortunately many people weren’t prepared and starved as a result. That slow starvation has been going on for decades now.”

“So we’re the only ones left?” The innocence of the question was disarming.

“No. There are definitely others. Many have staked out large plantations of land in the Midwest and Southeast, and some have chosen to tough it out in what remains of the big cities of old. Yes, there are people out there Seth, but most of them have hunkered down and built a quiet life for themselves. It’s really the only way to survive now.”

Seth was silent a moment and the three walked down the residential streets and tried to ignore the overgrown lawns and collapsing roofs of homes that had long begun to succumb to the elements. The chains of the bikes spun and buzzed like insects, and Jeremy marveled at how normal he suddenly felt. It was almost as if the three of them were returning from a day at town or an evening at the movies.

“So, if hunkering down is the only way to survive, then why are you two out here?” Seth pointed out. “Shouldn’t you be doing the same thing?”

Jeremy hadn’t the confidence to answer, though gratefully Sam did.              

“We were. Hunkered down, so to speak. We’ve only been out here about half of a year now. Isn’t that right Carp?”

Jeremy caught her profile silhouetted in the silvery light of the moon. “Not quite half a year, but it certainly feels like that I suppose,” he agreed quietly.

“Half of a whole year,” she repeated as if mystified at the silent passage of time. “We were hunkered down before that though. We had everything.” She turned her head toward Seth and met his eyes. “Bad men took our house away too, and turned us out into the street with nothing but the cart we’d hidden in the woods.”

His face was solemn and his voice threatened to crack. “At least you had each other.”

“We did,” Sam admitted, “but we had more than that before the bad men. Before that we had my mom.”

Seth drew close to her side and leaned against her, and Jeremy’s heart swelled with pride as she dropped her arm around his shoulders and hugged him tight to her side.

“We’re the same,” he whispered. “We both lost our moms and our homes, and now we might die too.”

“Hey now,” Jeremy interrupted smoothly. “Nobody uses the ‘D’ word. No. Nobody’s gonna die on my watch. We’re not just wandering the countryside, guys. We have a plan. We’re just moving to a new place to hunker down is all. Once we find it we’ll plant new gardens and set up new supplies. Besides, it’s not like it used to be. There are still people out there. No doubt about that. But there seem to be fewer each and every year, and that’s good news for us.”

“Okay,” Seth said slowly. “So where are you going then?”

“We, Seth,” Sam corrected gently. “It’s where
we
are going, and it’s to San Diego, California.”

Seth frowned. “San Diego? What’s there?”

Sam’s answer was a mere breath on the wind. “The ocean is there.”

“Well, yes, that,” Jeremy acknowledged, “and rich soil for planting, and a lower elevation for breathing, and a more temperate climate. Lots of things.”

Sam eyed him sidelong, her brow lifting. “Is that all?”

He shrugged. “Meh, a few more surprises, I suppose.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Seth’s tone was almost introspective, as though he were working it out and didn’t realize he was speaking the words aloud. “And so you’re taking me with you. To San Diego. To the ocean.” His brow furrowed with concern. “That’s really far Carp. It’s not safe to travel that far. At least that’s what my Dad always said. Why don’t we just hunker down here and try to rebuild my garden? I mean, if the bad men are gone and all.”

“Yeah,” Sam asked with a hint of smugness in her tone. “Why not indeed, Carp?”

“Seth, Sam and I need to get to San Diego for other reasons. It’s important that we go to that specific place, and it’s important that we get there fast. We know it’s difficult to leave behind your home. We know that better than anyone else. Suffice it to say that we wouldn’t ask it of you if we had another option, but the truth of the matter remains. We must go to that particular place and we’d love it if you’d go with us.”

“It’s going to be dangerous,” Seth cautioned.

Jeremy ruffled the back of his hair playfully, but his voice was stern, “No more dangerous than if you were planning to stay here alone, son.”

“Besides,” Sam added, “you’re part of your own gang now, right?”

He shook his head fiercely, “No I’m not. I don’t have a gang name yet.”

Sam looked toward the sky, at the stars that had begun to dot the blackness with specks of silver dust, “Marlin,” she finalized. “Your name will be Marlin.”

“Marlin,” he repeated with a small smile. “Kind of like Merlin the wizard.”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Kind of like that.”

We know only too well that what we are doing is nothing more than a drop in the ocean. But if the drop were not there, the ocean would be missing something.

—Mother Theresa

Olivia rolled her head toward the front window, the sharp peal of a siren lifting her from the calm serenity of dreams. She peered out the window and wiped the corner of her mouth with a kerchief.

“Where are we?”

When Liam didn’t answer, she glanced at him and flushed beneath his appraising eyes. Though his smile was full of mirth, his slightly arched brow gently mocked her.

“Nothing sexier than a woman who drools.”

Again she dabbed at the corner of her mouth, and then scrutinized the small puddle on her shoulder with a frown.

“I’m so damn tired. This pregnancy thing is exhausting.” She straightened in her seat. “So where are we?”

He tapped the map that rested on the console between them. “Just about to cross the Tennessee border. We’ll be home in no more than three hours I’m thinking.”

She lifted her hand to the back of his head and tussled his hair. “
Three
hours?” she challenged as she scrutinized the line of traffic in front of them. “I think three hours might be wishful thinking.”

Reaching for the bag at her feet, her diamond caught a ray of sunlight and reflected back a prism of brilliant colors. At this, and the smattering of dots that splashed the interior of the car, she smiled in admiration. Liam certainly moved fast, she thought. Not that she was complaining. They hadn’t the luxury of time to act any differently. Not these days. Nobody did. But their courtship was certainly faster than most, nothing short of a whirlwind.

Change
. That was the best word she could think of to describe the last few months. It was a simplistic term, an overgeneralization, but certainly the most apt description nonetheless. Olivia had had to make fast friends with the concepts he’d presented, and though most of the changes were voluntary, many had also become unavoidable. She’d welcomed the marriage of course, and the move from Richmond was an exciting prospect, but the other ways in which her life had suddenly evolved were frightening to say the least. Liam had been right. About everything. And for the hundredth time she thanked whatever God ruled the heavens for setting her feet on the path that led her to his capable hands.

He’d been right about all of it. Shortly after their return from Japan, the United States, along with most major world powers, had closed their borders permanently and for the first time in history. Any country blessed with abundant natural resources or plentiful acreages of land to support farming and animal husbandry, or any nation that was industrious enough to boast an enterprising peoples, had become a desirable location for an influx of illegal immigrants, the likes of which were unprecedented in recorded history. Alternatively, any country that had previously depended on fish as its main source of food was starving, and any country that had exploited the oceans as a wellspring of economic wealth was practically decimated.

Millions had starved, and millions more had tried to breach the borders of the United States, Australia, and parts of Southern Russia, into Canada, New Zealand, and Sweden. Argentina, Brazil, and inland portions of China had become inundated with refugees from bordering nations, which had further strained resources that were already stretched too thin. Before the border lockdown, The United States-Mexican and the United States-Canadian borders were lines that had become blurred, and people from all three countries had crossed between nations with no concern for the law or the authorities. But when martial law was declared, all of that had promptly come to an end.

So now here they were, the two of them against the world so to speak, the two of them in a rush to make preparations alongside an increasingly panicked populous. All around them people had begun to stockpile their own resources and accumulate the materials needed to sustain a life behind enclosed walls.

People had also begun to take from others to provide for the self and things had become ugly.

Olivia startled as an ambulance shot past them. Clumsily she straightened and strained to see past the line of cars that stretched before them. “Must be an accident up ahead,” she mumbled as she tore into her second peanut butter and jelly sandwich of the day.

“You know, you
could
try something with a vegetable?” Liam pointed out sarcastically. “Something with a piece of lettuce or a slice of tomato?”

Her face scrunched involuntarily. “Peanuts are vegetables.”

“Peanuts are legumes.”

She placed a hand against her swollen belly. “Nope. Still can’t. This is the only thing that sounds the least bit appetizing. You don’t want to have to pull over so your wife can decorate the side of the road do you?”

He reached over and squeezed her thigh. “Wife. I like the sound of that.”

“Yup. You better. Because the way things look to me, we’re soon to become more than just your ordinary husband and wife.” She turned to the chaos that lined I-81 south and grimaced. “We might very well become the next Adam and Eve.”

“So you’re saying if I’m the last man on earth, you’ll have sex with me?”

She rolled her eyes and scanned the road ahead. They’d only been on this particular road for approximately four hours, and already the path had become littered with the fugitives of failed vehicles. She and Liam were beginning to encounter small groups of them walking along the sides of the road, heavy packs thrown over their shoulders or tied to their waists. The luckier ones had the kinds of camping packs with a multitude of useful pouches, the kind that were fashioned with external metal frames on which to mount sleeping bags.

Well,
she
considered them lucky at least. Liam never considered people to be lucky or unlucky. Luck wasn’t a word that could be found in his lexicon. To him, these were the smart few, the select handful who were much like himself. These were the sound planners, the organized and pragmatic few that demonstrated enough sense to make advanced preparations.

Setting the sandwich aside, she reached for her briefcase and the laptop within. Several months prior, she and Liam had begun to make lists, enormous and detailed lists that had taken the form of complex Excel spreadsheets. The two of them had begun to compile an inventory of items one would need to completely withdraw from the world. Oh, Liam had made an excellent start. Undoubtedly. But two heads were always better than one.

In the beginning, Olivia had thought the task would be effortless. A list of necessities and essentials? An index of the fundamental ingredients two might need to nourish a happy life? Simple! Just consider what you use in a day and make a start with that. Right? Hardly. She nearly laughed aloud as she considered how much broader her worldview had become of late. She watched the ambulance slow and come to a stop about five hundred yards ahead of them, and her mind wandered.

No. None of it had been simple. It had been so much more complicated than she’d ever expected. Food and water were just a start. A very important start, yes, and certainly the things most people thought of first in these types of situations. But what about medical supplies and cooking utensils? What of the elements needed to start a fire after the power grids failed? What of the simple luxuries we all take for granted like toilet paper and feminine napkins? Dish soap and laundry detergent? And what of toilet paper? I mean really. Such a simple thing. Why, a year prior, she’d never have classified toilet paper as a luxury item, but it truly was, and one of the craziest things about this journey had been the hundreds of small discoveries just like that one.

Lately she found herself wondering what life had been like in third world countries or the Middle Ages. Hell, why not take it one step further? What of toilet paper—yes—but what of toilets and indoor plumbing in general? What would happen when the entirety of the United States plumbing systems failed? Would she and Liam prefer a privy with ‘his’ and ‘hers’ butt-sized holes cut into a shelf of wood planking? Or might they instead desire a simple outhouse with a drop hole above a hollowed out shaft? Or might they prefer to hover or squat above a pit latrine cut deep into the earth? And how far should it be from the house proper? And how deep should the hole be so as to avoid groundwater contamination? She shook her head and bit her lip. These were the kinds of decisions the two of them had spent their nights agonizing over, and at that time they’d barely even begun to scratch the surface.

Bathroom mechanics aside, each aspect of life had proven to be this complicated and detailed, more so than she’d ever imagined it could be. In the beginning the planning had been difficult. Together they’d jumped from dilemma to dilemma without rhyme or reason. They’d been haphazard and aimless with it, flitting from idea to idea and solving little, and they’d begun to worry that they were running out of time. But they’d soon found a better methodology and had begun to move with purpose. It was an art form really, this ‘survivalism’. They would focus on a particular problem like the bathroom issue, fully vet it from all possible angles, argue with one another and play devil’s advocate with newly proposed ideas. They’d consult books about life in the seventeen hundreds and try to work out a way to blend new technology with old philosophies. Together they’d considered which systems might fail, and which ones could be replicated on a small scale at home.

Sometime after they determined that wine was an absolute necessity for life after an apocalyptic event, they’d taken to calling their supply room ‘the ark’. And what an ark it was. Olivia had been out to see the cabin many times over the past few months, and she had to admit that the view was spectacular. The structure was large, set high on the crest of a breathtaking peak. It was remote in a way that made her feel safe and it soared above the terrain in a way that made her feel strong. Liam had thought of everything. But it was the ark that had impressed her the most. It was vast. Actually, it was vast when she’d first seen it, but it had become downright cavernous after she’d convinced him to double it in size.

They’d hired contractors to knock out the back wall of the entire cabin, and purchased industrial shelving to maximize space. They’d alphabetized the shelves and earmarked nearly half of the entire ark for water storage. Not that there wouldn’t be water. There’d always be rain of course. And even though the chemistry of rainfall was trending acidic, it would still be potable for a long time. But the water gave them a sense of security that she couldn’t express in so many words.

They’d worked on the ark for months and this trip marked their final relocation from their individual homes. Olivia had sold her single story ranch in Richmond and she and Liam had already made several trips to Sevierville to transport the majority of her things. This was the final leg of the trip. Finally they’d settle in and work on the ark full time. They planned to perform a ‘dry run’, an experiment of sorts. For one month they’d test their initiatives and grade themselves on the quality of the life they’d created. They’d utilize no utility systems, no plumbing, no gas, and no electricity. They’d hand-wash all clothing and dishes, and use the outhouse facilities exclusively. They’d chop wood for fire to burn in the hearth, and plant crops on the sweeping hills behind the cabin’s back deck. For all intents and purposes they would withdraw from society, simply pretend it wasn’t there. Yes, they would attend all of Olivia’s prenatal doctor’s appointments, but for thirty days their life at home would be a pilot study of life to come.

The dry run was to commence in little more than two weeks and Olivia marveled at the fact that she was actually looking forward to it. Her! She, of the silk dresses and laptop computers. She, of the rolled up khaki’s and morning Keurig coffee cups. In a few weeks Keurig cups would become coffee beans ground by hand, and television would become books read by candlelight and board games played by moonlight. And late nights on her computer would become late nights in front of the warm hearth with her husband.

It was funny. She’d really never considered herself the type, had never considered that she might be made of strong enough stock, but the visuals held a certain rustic romance that intrigued her. To her, they were a shimmering set of images with filigreed edging. To her, they meant the difference between a comfortable life inside a well-appointed shelter, or a dangerous one out in the elements, one finger always on the trigger.

Perhaps when the noise was quieted and the excesses of everyday life were reduced to the barest of necessities, the germ of the human soul could take root and flourish in a different way. Perhaps they’d find a deep sense of peace and fulfillment that many who skirted at the edges and surfaces of life were never truly able to find.

All these things they would do together, alone, at the top of their mountain. They’d journal their findings and keep a careful log of items they’d come to wish they’d stocked, and at the end of the thirty days they would re-join society and set out to obtain the items they’d forgotten.

“We have time,” Liam had assured, “let’s make sure we get it right.”

And wholeheartedly she’d agreed. Actually, she had to admit to herself that she found the process captivating. It was an exercise that she wished she’d done as a younger woman. To actually purge and pare down the seemingly endless list of wants to a concise list of needs had been a humbling process. She’d never realized just how much she took for granted, and just how little in life was truly essential. It had been a scrutiny of the self, an analysis of the ego, and an exercise in maturity. It had also bonded her to Liam in a way she’d never experienced with another man. Most people spoke of living, growing old, and dying with their partner, but she and Liam were actually planning for just that, and in a way that was most substantive.