Barren Waters - The Complete Novel: (A Post-Apocalyptic Tale of Survival) (6 page)

He recalled how he’d patiently kept a silent vigil by the library entrance, his favorite Glock G43 in hand, while Susan combed through the endless stacks, bleary-eyed and restless as she tossed reject after reject into the large pile in the center of the room. Only when her eyes had given out or her frustration had reached a pinnacle did they switch places.

The books had been pristine, unlike the rest of the library. Like all other buildings in most towns they’d visited, the foodstuffs and other desirables had long been picked clean, the glass of vending machines cracked and pillaged, the storage areas vandalized and looted, but Susan and Jeremy didn’t care about that. They were seeking a different kind of resource. Information and data, biological facts and medical briefings—these were the only valuables for which they’d trade.

After weeks and weeks they’d initially come away with nothing to show for their laborious efforts. All reference materials had unfortunately led to the same dire conclusions. The first to die in a world without western medicine would undoubtedly be the diabetics, or those unfortunate enough to require other forms of life support systems. Insulin simply wouldn’t last. Without electricity and refrigeration, without production and careful maintenance, all liquid forms would be lost in a matter of weeks. Technological advancement had introduced the pills, an encapsulated delivery system that kept the insulin fresh for longer periods of time, but as they’d discovered, even these seemed to have their limitations. Jeremy had only gotten Sam this far because of the sacrifices his father had made.

As he watched his daughter disappear into Doctor Jack’s makeshift operating room, he remembered the feelings of dejection, the helplessness and depression that followed weeks and weeks of fruitless research efforts. He should be thankful for this opportunity Doctor Jack was presenting. They both should. For all their efforts and time spent in that library, the situation had seemed dire. Until one night it wasn’t.

Susan had been the one to make the initial discovery. It’d been another long evening after many long evenings, and Jeremy was once more stationed at the library’s employee entrance. He was staring into another cloudless and starry sky when he’d heard her call.

“I found something!” she yelled and he’d squinted into the dark interior and watched eerie shadows dance and weave against the walls.

“Just put it in the pack,” he called out. “We’ll take it home.”

Her scowl was audible from his position at the door. “Jeremy, come here. Now. Leave the door. For God’s sake, there’s no one coming.”

He’d let the door fall behind him and startled at the loud report that echoed ominously through the ghosted halls. He didn’t feel enthused by her summoning, had even begun to believe it less and less likely that they’d ever find anything. To date, they’d suffered too many disappointments, and he’d nearly come to the conclusion that science just hadn’t been able to work out a solution to this particular problem. You know—a problem that people have been dealing with for oh, what? Thousands of years?

With a frown he’d stooped low beside her. “Susan, it’s getting late. We need to get back up to the cabin before she wakes up.”

His wife’s eyes glittered before the flame of the lantern, her fingers trembling with excitement as they flew over the pages.

“Jeremy look,” she pointed, “There’s a device. It was in production before the collapse. No.” She shook her head, her words coming faster, “actually, it was released to the public a few short years before. We just never heard of it. We’d already gone to ground.”

Wordlessly, he leaned forward and examined the image of the curious device, adamantly refusing to allow the excitement in her voice to enliven him.

“It was fully vetted and passed all human trials,” she continued. “People had already chosen to receive the implants before the end, although most were part of the initial trials. They were planning its widespread release before the collapse. It’s why we never heard of it, why most people never did, I assume. It’s called Insulidisk. It’s nanotechnology, Jeremy. The insulin is encapsulated so it can last longer, kind of like the pills, though more advanced. The delivery is slow and constant.” She set her hand lightly atop his. “Jeremy, this is the answer we’ve been looking for. The insulin in these disks won’t spoil for decades if not longer.”

She’d flipped several pages and then raised her head and met his gaze, her liquid eyes full of faith and optimism. “There’s a list. Look here.” She pulled his gaze back to the pages. “A list of doctors, of registered professionals who can perform the implantations. There were three here in Tennessee! All we have to do is find one of them and determine what he wants in exchange.”

Together, they’d spent the remainder of that evening side-by-side on bended knees, combing through manuals and lists and basic explanations of the fundamental concepts of nanotechnology as a science. The promise of the device, and the freedom it would grant their daughter was breathtaking in its simplicity, and from there, the entire plan seemed to take on a life of its own. For a man of Jeremy’s formidable means, the rest had fallen into place quite easily. Jeremy’s father had been right. He remembered him saying once, a wistful smile across his face, that before society’s collapse, he’d made a modest living, that he was a man who’d coveted the possessions and liberties of other men with means. All it had taken was the death of the world at large for him to rise to considerable personal ‘wealth’. And all that wealth had passed to Jeremy. He could probably have anything he wanted now, but what he wanted most was the safety and health of his family. Nothing else mattered.

They watched the door to the spare bedroom close and found one another’s hands. Anxiety was a parasite, a worm that slithered in and bore holes, a leech that attached firm and sapped them of strength. The waiting was a torment. They tried to busy themselves by walking the overgrown paths of old, state-regulated hiking trails and aged roadways, now impassable by any vehicles other than bikes. What foliage survived the dying of the oceans had broken through the pavement in large sections, thrust through small fissures to create larger crevices that cleaved the roads in a hopscotch pattern of green and black patchwork.

Road maintenance mattered little now, Jeremy thought absently. Cars were useless without a viable source of fresh gasoline, and what little remained had long been pillaged. Gas stations had been raided, the covers of buried tanks pried up and drained with hand-held pumps, and what little was left had spoiled a handful of years after that. Jeremy’s father’s cabin was equipped with a generator, of course, but even that had eventually ceased to operate.

Having negotiated the winding paths and switchbacks that circled the doctor’s cabin as many times as they could manage, they returned and began a relentless pacing outside the door of the makeshift operating room. Susan busied herself by cleaning Jack’s kitchen and unpacking the cart of his many new supplies, and Jeremy struggled to occupy his mind by delving into the man’s considerable medical library.

The sun was finally dipping below mountains that cut a jagged line across the horizon when Jeremy heard the latch on the door fall free. He must’ve fallen into a fitful sleep, yet shot to his feet at the sound, his knees nearly buckling at the sight of a bright stippling of blood that fanned across the doctor’s apron. He found that he was unable to draw breath as he watched the man push the mask from his face and mop his brow with a rolled sleeve.

Doctor Jack stepped forward and pulled off his right glove with a loud snap that made Jeremy wince.

“It went well,” he began in a calm voice. “She’s a fighter, that one. The device is in place and the stitching looks good if I do say so myself.” A puff of powder rippled through the air as he pulled off the other glove. “She should wake in a few hours, so I suggest you take her home and get her comfortably positioned before the pain meds wear off completely.” His glance slid to the neat rows of supplies atop his kitchen counter. “I see you emptied the cart for me. Take it with you. Wheel her home in it if you want. Don’t suppose I’ll need it much after this.”

Jeremy was grateful that Susan had somehow managed to find her voice when he couldn’t find his own. “Jack, we can’t thank you enough. For the disks and for doing what so many others probably wouldn’t. For taking on the unnecessary risk…For all of it.”

Jack nodded. “Happy to, Susan.” With a grunt he collapsed into an armchair by the fire and rested his head against the worn cushion. “Suppose if I’m being honest, I must admit. I sorely needed what I traded you for.” He sighed. “This is the way of the world now, I expect. Bartering and trading, using the skills one’s cultivated to provide a service in exchange for goods he needs. To be honest, I’m thankful to have met you. Thankful that you let me do this at all. If you hadn’t I would’ve had to find a solution to my supplies problem myself.” He massaged his temples and raised his head. “I threw in a little something extra. I installed a blood sugar counter on the inside of her wrist. It was the newest technology available before the dying. Not many people have them. Essentially the device is an overcomplicated display unit; a read out of current blood sugar levels powered by the body’s own metabolic processes. It never needs replacing, winding, recharging, or regeneration. She’s got it now and she’s got it for life.”

Jeremy felt himself relax despite the gore that smeared the man’s left cheek. “Amazing. Thank you again, Doctor.” He rubbed his own eyes and fell onto the sofa beside Jack’s fireplace. “I suppose you’re right. Trading and dealing is the way to survive the future, and you’ve got a skill most men would give their eyeteeth for. I don’t mean to pry, Jack, but is it just you here?”

The doctor nodded. “I lost my wife a few years back. Buried her up on the hillside with my own two hands.” He shook his head and sadly scrutinized the backs of his hands as if the tending of that ghastly deed had been a betrayal he was yet to forgive them for. “I couldn’t run any tests on her or offer her a real diagnosis, but I’m fairly certain it was some form of cancer that got her in the end.”

Jeremy cringed. He’d often thought about that kind of scenario for his own family, of what it would be like if one of them succumbed to a life threatening illness. What choice would he make for those he loved who were suffering? What choice would he make for himself?

“Toward the end there was nothing I could do but keep her drunk on scotch. I’d reached a point where I’d run through all the pain pills I had in storage, all the Percocet and Valium, even all the Advil and Tylenol. In the end it came down to good old-fashioned alcohol. I scoured the neighboring towns for as much as I could find. You’d be surprised just how many folks keep a bottle of vodka in their underwear drawer.” He lifted his head and offered a weak smile before his eyes lost their focus, his mind reaching for the memories. “I did everything I could for her. Everything. But the pain became completely unmanageable. God, Jeremy, the whole thing felt barbaric. At one point I wondered when I’d need to find her a leather strap to bite down on.”

He sighed and dropped his hands to the sides of the chair. “Her death was a small miracle, a miracle of mercy if you ask me. I was so broken hearted to see her go, yet so relieved to see an end to her suffering. Crazy isn’t it?” His voice trailed away.

Jeremy’s heart went out to the lonely Doctor, but some deeper part of him, the darker mask of humanity that resides within us all, sprang and hissed for him to gather his family and see them as far away from this man as they could; far from the ghosts of loneliness and misery that had taken up permanent residence in this reclusive house, and now shuffled down its empty hallways, and curled in its cold beds.

He knew a sudden and irrational fear; a certainty that the man’s misfortunes were contagious, that they’d attach to his family like an oily film and spread like a virus. He stood on shaky legs.

“We’ve taken up enough of your time, sir. I’m sure you’re quite tired and we’ve a long way to push that cart before she wakes up. I thank you for the cart, and for your hospitality and bravery with my daughter. I’m not sure ten carts of supplies could even begin to repay this kindness.” He stepped forward and rather abruptly extended a hand. “Doctor Jack. Our best to you always.”

The man struggled from his chair and clasped Jeremy’s hand. “Don’t be a stranger. We don’t live that far apart you know. Seems to me those of us who’re left ought to cherish the company of neighbors.”

He let Jeremy’s hand drop and Jeremy felt a stab of guilt. Where did this inclination to seclude his family come from? Perhaps the man was right. Jeremy was certainly no psychologist, but how many healthy humans flourished in isolation and confinement?

“Perhaps we will Jack. Perhaps so.”

He turned toward Susan and communicated his wishes with the kind of wordless gesturing that only married people could understand. She read all the signals and crossed the room to stand at his side, and together they lowered Sam into the deep cart, swaddled her in soft blankets, and began the long journey toward home.

They’d walk for over three hours and negotiate the cart over the crumbling terrain of a broken world. With as minimal jostling as they could manage, they would weave between overgrown grasses, fallen branches of trees, and the disintegrating fragments of cement structures as best they could, and Jeremy would keep his eyes on the setting sun. He felt like a new man, a man who could fix things, a man who could contemplate the depths of a problem and work out its solution. Today they’d given Sam a chance for a real future. He kept his gaze fixed on the beauty of the orange-and-red sky and his sights set firm on the future.