Barren Waters - The Complete Novel: (A Post-Apocalyptic Tale of Survival) (18 page)

He could see the longing building within her, and suddenly thought to drop to his knees. “I’ll stay here, on my knees. I won’t come near you if you want to look out the window for yourself.”

She advanced a single step, as if it were a test she dared him to fail, and he dared not move. She crept to the window, hands shaking, her grip loosening on the gun, and Jeremy held his breath as he watched her. Sunlight from the grimy window found her and splashed across her hair and face. She’d probably been pretty once, perhaps even beautiful. Her dark hair may have once been lustrous and thick, though now it was matted and clumped. She was too thin, yet her hips swelled suggestively, but it was her eyes that so saddened him. In the yellow light, they sparkled green. Her mouth fell open slightly and he knew she must’ve caught sight of Sam. He felt a stir of emotion as he watched her. How odd it must be for her. Instinctively he knew that it was just she and her boy alone, and he wondered what it must be like to encounter another person, another child. Children were the last hope in this world.

He watched as a single tear slid across her face and dropped from her chin onto the floor. Her voice shook as much as her hands, her words a desperate and quiet plea.

“Dear God, how much I want to trust you. How badly I want that hot meal.” She turned to him and shook her head in dismay. “But I can’t,” she whispered. “Can’t.”

“You can and you should. Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to leave this store. I’m going to join my daughter outside and we’re going to walk back to our house. We’ll walk slowly and we won’t look back. You’re welcome to follow us at a distance, see for yourself where we live. And then you’re welcome to give it some thought and come back at any time if you wish. We’ll be moving on soon, but it won’t be right away.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just the two of us as well. We just lost my wife, Samantha’s mother, and we’re resting up at that old house, resting and healing before we move on. You’re welcome to visit us whenever you like. You’re even welcome to the house after we leave.”

He turned from her and began to walk toward the light.

“My name is Jeremy and my daughter is Sam.”

She didn’t make a sound as he crossed the smooth linoleum, not until he’d reached the threshold. Her reply was faint, yet discernible and full of hope.

“I’m Meghan and my son is Peter.”

The winds, the sea, and the moving tides are what they are. If there is wonder and beauty and majesty in them, science will discover these qualities... If there is poetry in my book about the sea, it is not because I deliberately put it there, but because no one could write truthfully about the sea and leave out the poetry.

—Rachel Carson

“How are the lentils?”

“How are they supposed to be? They taste like cardboard.”

“How do you know what cardboard tastes like?” She was sprawled out on her stomach, her bowl of food set at the folded corner of the map in front of her. “We’ve done well,” she commented as she continued the purple line that marked their progression west. “About 140 miles in three days. We’re halfway across Arkansas already.” She peered at Seth and raised a mocking brow. “Not bad for a klutz.”

“I’m not a klutz! I just fell. It was hard to walk down there. It was sticky and wet. And you should thank me.”

“Yeah, don’t worry. She thanks you big guy. Speaking of that, we need to change your bandages.”

Jeremy pushed himself to his feet and rummaged through his backpack. He was proud of Seth. He had to admit. The boy had shown resilience and determination over the past few days. Despite his injury, which was nothing to take lightly, he’d insisted they press forward. He’d acclimated well to the physical demands of the journey, to the acidic soreness of muscles that set in after hours spent cycling, to the weariness that resulted from strenuous activity performed at lower than optimum oxygen levels, and to the ever-present heat that seemed to saturate the air like a thick mist and drape like a woolen cloak. Jeremy had tried to take care of him in the best ways he knew how. He’d massaged his muscles and stretched his hamstrings and quads; given him extra rations of food, and even some Advil, a handful of faded and crumbling tablets that he’d feared were ineffective. They were over ten years old, and though they wouldn’t hurt him, they probably wouldn’t help much either.

He lifted the first aid kit from his pack and settled himself next to Seth.

“Does it hurt?”

Seth winced as Jeremy lifted his pant leg. “Of course. But I can handle it.”

“Give me the pain on a scale from one to ten.”

“Six.”

Jeremy nodded approvingly. “Six? All right then. Sounds manageable.” He lifted his gaze and caught Seth’s eye. “You ready for a seven?”

Seth ground his teeth as Jeremy poured some rubbing alcohol onto a cloth. He really was a strong boy. Even now he tried desperately to turn the conversation to other things.

“So all that damage back there was from a tornado?”

Jeremy gently rolled back the cuff. “Yup. Probably. This whole part of the country used to be known as Tornado Alley. The issue now is that the storms, when they do happen, are more violent. Well, that, and there’s no one left to put the pieces of towns back together again.”

“And will a tornado happen now?” Seth’s voice shook as he tried to ignore his leg.

“I suppose it could at any time. Just because the oceans died doesn’t mean the rest of the world didn’t go on living. Well, to some degree it didn’t, I suppose. Weather has become incrementally worse over time. In fact,” Jeremy added, “I’d really like to get out of here as fast as we can. I don’t want to linger too long in this state if we can help it.” He lifted the corner of the bandage, frowned, and pressed a finger to the skin. It was warmer than it should be. “Seth, are you feeling alright?”

Seth’s eyes slid to Sam’s face and Jeremy pursed his lips at the boy’s transparency. Always trying to act tough around the pretty girl.

“Sure,” Seth lied, despite the fine beads of perspiration that dotted his brow. “I’m fine. I’m tough like that.”

“I know you’re tough, but your skin is warm here. A little red too.” He removed the remainder of the bandage, careful to avoid pulling at the edges of the wound. Of course it was unavoidable to some degree, and Seth made soft sounds of displeasure. He’d been lucky though. They all had. Seth had lost a lot of blood that day, and Jeremy had truly feared that they might lose him. He and Sam had spent a long uncomfortable evening trying to coax him to drink fluids. They’d spent two full days in that lonely motel room. Two tense days. Two days Jeremy knew they couldn’t afford, but he’d not leave Seth behind.

The last corner of the bandage lifted from his skin with a hiss and Jeremy furrowed his brow. The skin was unquestionably flushed. There was no puss evident and the edges didn’t appear swollen, but the skin was far too warm for Jeremy’s liking. Initially he’d feared the blood loss, but it was the risk of infection that worried him now. Who knew how much of that spoiled water and chemically poisonous soup had penetrated the wound. Had he been able to cleanse it properly? Had he been able to cleanse it fast enough? Only time would tell.

With a quick glance at Seth’s face, he gave him a warning. “Here goes.” He took the antiseptic to the wound swiftly and Seth stifled a yell. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the sides of his thighs. Jeremy made quick work of it, cleansed the wound, cooled it with antiseptic, and replaced the bandages, careful to apply tape only to the outermost edges.

“We need to keep a close eye on this. We can’t risk infection. Though we have antibiotics left, what we do have is long expired and probably weaker than we’d expect.” He completed the dressing then gently rolled down the leg of Seth’s pants. He frowned again. Well this certainly wasn’t good. The fabric was no longer clean. It was smudged with oil from the chain of the bike and stiff with the sweat of hard work. Dirty fabric against open flesh. Great. He wished he had a place to wash their clothes, but they hadn’t encountered any streams of late, and he didn’t want to waste any of the water in their packs for anything besides drinking. They’d have to make do.

He turned to Sam. “Your number please.”

Casually she lifted her arm. “Three hundred fifty-six.”

“Its too high,” Jeremy protested. “Try another of the pills.”

From within her pack she withdrew the bottle of insulin, and shook a few of the pills into her hand. “Carp, they’re not very strong anymore.”

“No they’re not,” he conceded, “but they’re not worthless either. Now that you’ve eaten, take two more and let’s see what happens.”

She swallowed the pills and replaced the cap on the bottle, and at the sight of the bottle, Jeremy knew a sudden moment of guilt. His conscience whispered to him. Whispered a single name.
Peter
. It was a whisper that cleaved through him, an uncomfortable flicker of conscience, similar to the sharp pain of a muscle cramp. Sam had taken to wearing the small teddy bear key-ring on her own belt loop, and he wondered a moment if, by releasing Jeremy from the culpability of that incident, she’d assumed the blame herself.

The meter on her belly was at zero percent and had been for half a day. The pills were an experiment. He just wanted to gauge their potency before he replaced her disk. Settling back onto the deteriorating carpet of this worn living room, he faced her.

“So what’s next? Where will we end up tomorrow?”

She pointed to the map. “We should really try to get as far as the Caddo River. It’s smaller so I’m thinking we may be able to use some of the water for washing.” Playfully she tossed an empty water bottle at Seth. “You stink anyway.”

“Not as bad as you! But how do we become clean if we wash in a stinky river? I thought the water was spoiled.”

Jeremy spooned another bite of lentils into his mouth. “Oh, it is. No doubt about that, but not to the same degree as the Mississippi. Nothing’s that bad.”

Sam began rummaging through her pack, likely in search of the Prisoner of Azkaban. “Seth is much too young for Twilight,” she’d advised Jeremy gravely.

“Merlin,” she began, “we can’t
drink
the water or anything like that, but we can boil it and use it to wash our bodies and our clothes.” She pulled the book into her lap and sought the bent corner that marked the end of last night’s reading. “Besides, some rivers aren’t as bad as others.”

“And not nearly as bad as the ocean right?” he questioned solemnly.

“Ask Carp,” she answered. “He’s the only one of us who’s ever seen the ocean.”

Recollection slowly dawned on Seth’s face. “That’s right! You’ve actually been to the sea. What was it like?”

“First give me your number Sam.”

He wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything until he could assess the effectiveness of the white pills.

She groaned and checked her arm. “Three hundred and one.”

Jeremy cursed inwardly. “Well, they
do
work. Barely. They’re just not as powerful as I’d like. Okay. Experiment over. We need to replace your disk.”

Without emotion she set down the book and crawled toward him. She hated this, but she knew it was necessary. Jeremy fished one of the disks from his pocket, careful not to show her that it was almost the last. Seth’s eyes were huge circles of brown framed in white as he watched Sam pull up her shirt. She was modest and didn’t like to show off the device, and Jeremy was quite sure this was the first time Seth had seen it up close.

He inched closer. “You said it was a disk player. It doesn’t look like that to me,” he complained as if he were slightly disappointed.

“It’s not really a disk, Seth. How would we get a disk into her belly?” Jeremy lifted the small saucer to the light that flickered from their candles. “See? It’s the case that looks like the disk. The actual medicine itself is a thin tube.”

“It’s just an advertising gimmick,” Sam added.

“An advertising gimmick?” Jeremy grinned. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”

Her expression was deadpan, which only succeeded in making it funnier. “Its called reading, Carp. You should try it some time. You might learn something.”

He lifted the applicator from the packaging and leaned over her stomach. “Deep breath, kiddo.”

“Will it hurt?” Seth breathed.

Sam let Jeremy answer. “It’s not really pain in the conventional sense. It’s more of a discomfort or pressure. See that hole in her belly?” He pointed to a small black circle of durable plastic that marked the insertion point of the capsule. “We press the applicator to that point and inject the tube.” He demonstrated by touching the applicator end to the small hole. It snapped into place with a soft click and he released his hand.”

Seth cocked his head to the side. “It looks funny. You just leave that there? Now what?”

Jeremy had a sudden thought. “Why don’t you do it?”

He figured it might be beneficial that Seth also know how to treat her. Just in case. Seth peered at Sam through lowered lashes. Clearly he was embarrassed to touch her.

“Oh, just do it Merlin. Carp’s right. It doesn’t really hurt. It’s just strange, an odd feeling of compression. It only lasts a minute. Just do it.”

Gingerly, he circled his palm around the applicator and fit his thumb over the plunger. “Give me your pain on a scale of one to ten,” he demanded quietly.

“Zero, silly. Now do it.”

He obeyed her, his thumb turning white as he pressed firmly on the applicator.

“That’s good,” Jeremy commented. “Keep the applicator straight. Don’t allow it to bend to either side. Hold it straight and apply an even pressure as it lowers.”

A slow smile crept across his face as he pressed it smoothly downward, and a low and satisfying click marked its correct positioning. “That’s it,” Jeremy encouraged with a nod. “Just lift off the applicator and watch her meter rise. That’s all there is to it.”

Awkwardly, Seth pulled on the tube.

“Ow! Not like that,” Sam complained. “Just a quick snap of your wrist to the right.”

Seth had startled at her complaint. Quickly he snapped off the tube with an efficient flick of his wrist then bent low to watch the meter. Jeremy watched with a smile as the boy pursed his lips in concentration. A horizontal crease split his forehead, and he clenched the tip of his tongue between his teeth. He obviously wanted to do this right.

Within the span of a breath, the meter began to climb, about ten percent every few seconds. Jeremy never knew satisfaction as deep and as gratifying as he did when he watched her meter rise. Fifty percent became sixty, and sixty became eighty. It was heady, almost as if the coffers of his wellbeing were simultaneously filled with her cache of life-giving insulin.

“One hundred percent!” Seth exclaimed excitedly.

“Yup. One hundred percent.” With a sigh, Jeremy discarded the empty disk and settled against the broken couch. One hundred percent and thirty days of blissful freedom from worry. Nothing could compare.

Seth backed away from Sam on hands and knees, and watched her carefully as she picked up the book and resumed her position, intent on commencing with the night’s reading. Jeremy swore he could see the gears churning in the boy’s mind.

He turned his gaze on Jeremy. “So, how many disks are left?”

Sam sighed. “He won’t tell us, Seth. Don’t even bother.”

Jeremy didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt driven to honesty, and found that he’d uttered the word before he’d given it proper thought.

“One,” he whispered quietly.

The room fell silent and Sam slowly lifted her head. She stared at him with round eyes and repeated the word with a curious inflection, as if the combination of letters were foreign to her. “One,” she uttered softly. Pointedly she met Jeremy’s gaze. “I suppose you have a plan?”