Barren Waters - The Complete Novel: (A Post-Apocalyptic Tale of Survival) (15 page)

He didn’t speak, and instead lowered his gaze to his open palm where the picture of his parents lay crumpled. Liam’s voice was thick with emotion.

“I’m so sorry about your family, son. I’m sure your Mommy and Daddy loved you very much.”

“I’m sure,” Olivia agreed. “But we have to take you to the police station now.” The boy raised his head and she could see the alarm shining in his eyes. He reached out a hand and caught a lock of her hair. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “We’ll go with you. We won’t leave you. But I’d really love it if you could tell me your name. I’ve already told you mine.”

She pushed a fall of dark hair from his eye, and bravely, he met her gaze.

“Jeremy,” he said softly. “My name is Jeremy.

There's nothing wrong with enjoying looking at the surface of the ocean itself, except that when you finally see what goes on underwater, you realize that you've been missing the whole point of the ocean. Staying on the surface all the time is like going to the circus and staring at the outside of the tent.

―Dave Berry

She pushed the food away but didn’t speak. She hadn’t spoken a word in over a month.

“Sam, you need to eat. He caught her hand and turned it over to examine the meter at the inside of her wrist. “Sixty-two. You’re getting too low. You need to eat something.”

Jeremy took a deep breath and ladled a steaming cup of tomato soup into a wooden bowl, crumbled several saltine crackers over the top, and pushed it toward her. “Sam, how do you think your mother would feel about this? She sacrificed her life and you’re actively working to destroy your own.”

Angrily, she snatched the bowl from him and turned away.

It’d been thirty-four days since they’d lost their cabin. Thirty-four days since he’d lost his wife. Thirty-
two
days since he’d seen the last remnants of smoke lifting from the tops of the highest trees. In a way that was strangely macabre, he and Sam had clung to those curling tendrils. They’d hugged their knees and stared at them in silence, watched as they’d lost shape then dissipated fully. Somehow those sooty clouds had connected them to the place they were both so reluctant to leave behind.

Many times since, Jeremy had thought of the men he’d left inside, wondered if he’d put enough distance between them and Sam. They would be angry. Infuriated, really. Jeremy tried to imagine the depths of their rage and couldn’t. To have survived in this ailing wilderness for years and years, and then to have finally found spoils as rich and luxurious as the cabin? Yes. If these men were to ever find he and Sam, the retribution they’d levy wouldn’t be swift. It would be drawn out and painful. Unthinkable. They’d make him pay dearly and he didn’t want to think about that.

He poured from the steaming pot of soup and elbowed his way onto the couch. They’d found this house a few weeks ago and Jeremy had chosen it to lay down stakes for a bit of recuperation and healing. It was an interval of time they needed to take, as much a mental break as it was a physical one. He also wanted to take stock of their supplies and plot a course for their future. They couldn’t stay here long term, he knew, but it was as good a place as any to carve out a temporary life.

After emerging from the woods that night, battered and broken of spirit, they’d followed Main Street west. It was an easy road, both straight and wide, and they’d traversed it in silence, heads hung, shoulders slumped. He’d been eager to leave Sevierville proper, and had figured to follow the street west until it became US-441, which they’d follow on foot to Knoxville. But from there he hadn’t really come up with a solid plan. For all the careful controls he and Susan had set in place over the years, they hadn’t thought of a secondary destination. And why would they? The very idea that they’d ever have to leave the cabin was so farfetched that neither had thought to devise a plan. It was inconceivable, absurdly implausible that they’d ever be forced from the confines of that private shelter, yet here they were. Here they were, thrust into the elements with nothing but an industrial-sized laundry cart to keep them alive.

Jeremy was becoming increasingly concerned that they hadn’t the resources to make a new life. They were well equipped, yes, their position still superior when compared to others, but did they have enough to make a new start of it?

He turned to Sam and began his nightly ritual.

“So I was thinking tomorrow we set out for the library and pick out some new books.”

Though he didn’t expect her to respond, he’d vowed to never stop trying. Like her, he had experienced a range of emotions since that fateful night. First he’d been angry, a deep and bottomless rage that had welled up at unexpected moments. He knew he’d been difficult to live with those first few days, and he feared that he hadn’t behaved the way a responsible adult should. In fact, for a short amount of time, he was certain that he’d withdrawn from her completely, that he’d turned his rage inward, and it was then—probably because of his rage—that she’d fallen silent. At first her silence had only fueled his anger. He’d lost his wife, his partner, his best friend, and now the only person left in his life was choosing not to acknowledge him at all. How dare she shut him out, pretend he didn’t exist? Did she think his pain wasn’t somehow equal to her own? It wasn’t fair! he remembered thinking. What had he done to deserve her taciturnity? Did she blame him for the unexpected path their life had taken? Did she hold him accountable for the actions of criminals?

Slowly, as her silence remained and deepened, he’d come out of his rage, realizing finally that he was the adult in the room. She needed him. He could grieve, yes. It was his right to do so, but he’d only do so in private. He’d no longer brood and scowl, no longer curse openly or share his worries over their next course of action. That wasn’t what fathers did. Fathers held it together, stoically, and with a steady hand. She had enough to worry about. Since those early nights he’d vowed to turn a new leaf, to keep his concerns to himself, and to only voice things from a place of positivity and hope. He would be the counterpoint to her sadness. He would create a space for her within it and he’d never stop hoping that she’d join him there. They no longer had Susan or the cabin or the ark itself, but they still had each other, and for tonight and many nights to come, they had enough food to eat and plenty of water to drink. Better to focus on that and let the other things fall away. For now.

“So maybe at the library you can pick up copies of the Twilight series.”

Wordlessly she slurped at her soup, her eyes fixed on the highest window and the starry sky beyond. Together they sat in the living room of this beautifully appointed home. The kitchen boasted granite countertops, and in the living room, a massive flat-screen television, which was all but useless to them now. But it did have a large fireplace and plush furnishings, bedrooms with thick comforters, and a large plot of land to the rear. They’d been here for a little over two weeks and Jeremy had used the time to organize their supplies. Thankfully Sam didn’t like to be alone, and though she refused to speak to him, she followed him constantly, silently engaging in whatever activity he was doing.

Together they’d boarded the windows of the house and conducted a thorough search of its grounds. He wasn’t sure why particular homes were ransacked while others were left virtually unmolested. This house had been raided, of course, though not ruined. There were no remnants of food here, no bottles of water, no usable clothing, but the place was clean and safe and somewhat remote. He was surprised that no one had taken up permanent residence here. The home was situated in the center of acres upon acres of land. The nearest neighbor must be at least a mile from here. Perhaps two. It was why he’d chosen it in the first place.

That night they’d meandered from US-441 and stopped just short of Knoxville, turned down residential streets, and followed dirt paths to more remote areas. Thankfully Jeremy had packed a United States atlas in the cart some years before, and he now plotted their course with a purple marker. They’d come across the residence by accident. Jeremy was fully ready to find a flat expanse of earth and hunker down beneath the stars. They had tent flaps and poles, and could set up anywhere they wished, but they’d found the house instead, and they’d taken advantage.

“So how about it?” he urged, pulling her attention from the celestial patterns, visible from a small square high in the ceiling’s loft. “Twilight? Perhaps the Hunger Games?”

He watched her finish her soup and lay down on her side. Soundlessly she curled into herself and he startled as he realized just how much weight she’d lost. He could clearly see the outline of her spine through her thin shirt, her vertebrae a small, humped outline that ran the length of her back. Grief, he managed to assuage himself. It was just the grief. Her sugars were fine.

With a sigh he rose from the couch and stamped out the fire in the hearth. He stretched out beside her and clasped his hands behind his head. Even though the house boasted many bedrooms, he and Sam found solace together in the living room. Without so much as a word, they’d simply set up the sleeping bags here, as if neither could manage a single night alone.

He peered at her slim form, the light of the moon silhouetting her in silver piping.

“Sam, you’ll have to speak to me at some point. I know you blame me for what happened to your mother.” He sighed. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps it really was my fault. I did open the door for them, right? And I didn’t do my job. I wasn’t able to protect her. I’m the one who failed you both.”

She didn’t respond and he took a ragged breath. For some reason he wasn’t able to stop the emotion from creeping into his words, found that he didn’t even want to. Not tonight. He hadn’t the energy to pretend. His voice shook with un-shed tears.

“I suppose it’s me that really needs to hear your voice. I’m the one who misses you, Sam. I’m the weak one, the one who needs to hear inane chatter about silly vampires and magic wands.” He pulled the blankets up to his chin. “I miss you and I feel alone. I wish you’d talk to me is all. For my sake. Sometimes it’s easier to weather the storm as a team.”

She rustled in her blankets but didn’t speak. Well, that was it. He’d tried everything to reach her. He’d laid his emotions bare. That was the best he could do. He blinked into the darkness. Was it? Was it everything? No. That was
almost
it. He’d tried everything else he could think of to lift her from her protective shell, and so he figured to try this one last thing, this final Hail Mary. He’d been thinking of it for several days now but worried that it might not be the right thing to do. He certainly wouldn’t win any parent-of-the-year awards, but if it could possibly succeed in bridging the gap between them, then it was worth a try. Similar experiences often did that.

“Sam, I know what it’s like to lose a parent. I remember it well. It hurts like nothing else I can explain. It leaves a scar, deep and jagged, one that never fully heals, I’m afraid.”

She scoffed and the noise startled him. He’d become accustomed to his own ramblings of late and the sound seemed somehow alien. Her voice came ragged and low, but it came. “No you don’t,” she whispered hoarsely. “You have no idea what it’s like. Not at my age you don’t. Your parents lived to be old and gray. They died of natural causes. It’s not the same thing and you know it.”

With that she settled back into her blankets and shut him out completely.

“I only wish that were true, Sam, but it’s not. The grandparents you thought were my parents actually weren’t. My parents died.” His belly did a nauseating flip as he took the risk. “My father shot himself in the head when I was only three.”

She flinched and rose fluidly from her blankets, her body stiff and straight in the moonlight. She sat still a moment, her gaze fixed on the wall in front of her, clearly pondering what he’d said. She lay back down on her blankets, her voice softer, yet no less accusatory. “You’re lying to me. I know what you’re doing. I’m not stupid. You’re trying to make our situations the same but they’re not. What you’re saying doesn’t even make sense, Dad. It’s disgusting actually.”

He shrugged into the darkness. “I’m not lying, Sam. And I think you’re old enough to know the truth. Blame and condemnation are adult concepts. If you’re going to hold fast to them, if you’re going to nurture, build, and shape them, then I’d like you to know the entire truth of things. Adults make informed decisions, but to do so they need all the facts. So if you’re going to alienate me permanently, then I’d like you to know everything about me before you do it.” He turned his back to her and closed his eyes without another word. Let her ponder on that for a time.

The next morning was bright and warm, and together they set out for the library. She hadn’t said anything since breakfast, but he could sense her controlled restraint and the pressure that was building beneath it. He’d set a fire within her last night, he knew. He also knew that the best way to stoke those flames was to ignore her.

“We’ll go first to the library,” he began casually, “and then I’d like to rummage a few of the town’s convenience stores to see if we can find any items of use that were left behind.”

His hand found the shape of his gun, holstered at his waist. They hadn’t seen many others since they’d lost the cabin and he didn’t really expect that they would. Without a source of water, these lands were useless. He figured there must be a few families hunkered in these hills where fresh water could still be pumped from deep wells, but they weren’t likely to happen across any today. But still.

She said nothing as they ventured down the dirt path that led back to town. The gravel beneath their shoes, and the breath, heavy from their open mouths, were the only sounds for what seemed like miles, and he found himself imagining a world that might contain only them. A shiver ran through him as he considered the distinct possibility that they might never lay eyes on another person again. Well—another decent person, he clarified. One with whom they’d actually foster an acquaintance. Over the past few weeks, what few people they did see were small gangs of miscreants roaming these hills. To avoid encounters they’d hidden behind houses or run to the woods until the small bands of pillagers passed them by, but they were yet to cross paths with decent folk.

Her voice split the silence. “So are you gonna to tell me then? Or just leave me to wonder?”

He raised a mocking brow. “To wonder? About what?”