What Survives of Us (Colorado Chapters Book 1) (17 page)

Jenny’s mother took another step back, then another.  She was gazing at Jack now, her broken heart in her eyes.  “I don’t know what to think.  I don’t know what to believe.”  Her face crumpled, and she started to sob again.  “Help me.”

Jack looked around.  Confusion.  Anger.  Fear.  Weariness.  He was losing this group, before it had even formed.  There was just too much, too much for them to assimilate on top of their grief and the changes in the world.  He closed his eyes and prayed, for guidance, for wisdom, for the right words.  When he opened his eyes and lifted his head, Layla was standing in front of him.  She looked as exhausted as he felt, but she reached out to rest a hand on his forearm, offering her help, her strength.

Jack knew, then, what he had to do.

He smiled at her and patted her hand.  “Thank you.”  Then, he lifted her hand free and turned to face the people, many of whom were on their feet ready to flee, many of whom were crying quietly.  He deliberately let his cone of God Light thin to near non-existence.  Then, he began to talk, meeting the eyes of each person there one by one, letting their feelings guide his words.

He spoke of their fears, their doubts about finding the strength to go on.  He spoke of their secret wishes for death, so they could rejoin the loved ones they were incomplete without.  He spoke of hunger and deprivation, and the sure knowledge that worse was to come.  He spoke of spiritual doubt, the fear that what they’d been taught had been wrong, that God had forsaken them.

Finally, he spoke of the guilt they were all feeling.  “What if we’ve all been kept alive for a purpose?  Why us, and not them?  Are we supposed to feel special?  Or is this penance, a terrible burden, punishment?  I don’t know.  I don’t.” 

Jack hung his head for a moment, thinking of all the beautiful souls who had left them, and struggled with his own unworthiness.  Why, God,
why?
  Why leave such an imperfect soul behind?  Am I forsaken? 
Am I?
He wanted to demand an answer from God, and wished he knew how.

Layla’s hand, on his shoulder, again.  He knew she could feel what he was feeling – she shared this skill, it made so much sense, explained so much – and he felt a flash of the most intense shame he’d ever experienced.  For her, of all people, to witness his naked humiliation, his spiritual doubt.

Layla’s hand fell away, and he dared a glance at her.  She had bowed her head and shut her eyes, affording him the only privacy she could.  He recognized the respect, but didn’t know if he could forgive her for what she’d seen in the first place.

Shaking himself, Jack looked up, looked around at the faces that were all turned towards him, all waiting.  They were poised on the fulcrum, prepared to take his direction.  All he had to do was decide how to direct them.  It struck him, then, the
power
he could wield if he chose.  Even he, who had never craved or sought authority, was tempted.

Another hand lighted on his opposite shoulder, a butterfly touch.  Verity.  She gazed up at him with eyes so blue, eyes that
saw
.  He would have known that, would have sensed it, even in the time before the plague.

“The Archangels are arrayed with you,” she said, her voice a soft, musical lilt pitched only for his ears.  “Michael, who guides those seeking a new path.  Raziel, who helps you know Divine guidance.  Zadkiel, who helps you hold mercy and
compassion towards yourself and others, and let go of judgments.  They’re here.  Their wings are locked around you, right now.”

Jack felt the hair on the back of his neck rise.  With her touching him, he could almost see them, shimmering celestial beings of unspeakable power and beauty, encircling them both.  “Do they have instructions for me?” he whispered.  “A message?”

A grin of impish glee lit her features. “Yes!  Well, it’s from Raphael – he’s here for Rowan – but he says,” she dropped her voice to a lower register and intoned, “’With great power comes great responsibility.’  He says he’s not going to get into a debate about who said it, Stan Lee or Voltaire, because they were both paraphrasing Jesus anyway.  But, yeah.  There you go.”  She winked at him.  “Raphael’s a real joker.”

Verity’s hand fluttered away from his shoulder, and Jack blinked.  He no longer had the impression he was surrounded by powerful angelic beings, but he wasn’t sure he was completely back on the planet yet.  The exchange between them had taken mere seconds, but everything felt different.  At least for now, the path was clear.

The group in front of him was still poised, still waiting.  Jack took a deep breath.  “Here’s what we have to do:  Learn.  Listen.  Help each other.”  His eyes met Layla’s.  “Survive.”

              Naomi smoothed her hand over Macy’s forehead and pulled the blanket up to snuggle it under her chin.  She leaned to kiss her daughter’s forehead.  “Sleep and sleep, honey.  Big day tomorrow.”

             
Macy’s eyes were already fluttering heavily.  “Yup.  Our big adventure.  Love you, Mama.”

             
Naomi brushed the silky skin of Macy’s cheek with another nuzzling kiss and closed her eyes, breathing in her warm, familiar scent.  Moments like these were an oasis of right in a world gone wrong.  “Love you too, baby girl.  I’ll finish up and come to bed in a little while.”

             
She could tell by Macy’s breathing that she was asleep before she reached the door of the bedroom.  Persephone jumped up on the bed and settled in to keep vigil – she rarely left Macy’s side these days – so Naomi waited for Hades to follow her into the hallway, then pulled the door shut and headed into the living room with the big dog trailing behind her.

             
They had been hunkered down in this house for three days.  Naomi had broken in to five houses in the vicinity of their disabled truck before she found one that was deserted, or rather, free of corpses.  If anyone was left alive nearby, they weren’t interested in making contact, which suited Naomi just fine.  Several times a day they heard a motor bike, sometimes near, sometimes far.  She couldn’t be sure it was the same bike she’d heard the day they escaped the gang, she didn’t know if those people would still be looking for them, but it was safer to assume both were true.

             
They had passed the days resting, re-grouping and on Naomi’s part, reconnoitering.  Two days ago, she had left Macy in the care of the dogs and had slid through neighborhoods until she reached the spot where Manitou Avenue joined Highway 24.  From there on, there was only one way to Woodland Park:  through the narrow pass with its steep, high canyon walls. 

Not only was it blocked, it looked like a riot had occurred.  Vehicles were piled on top of each other – several 4 wheel drive trucks had tried to crawl around or over the top of the jam – and many of the vehicles had been burned.  Those that weren’t damaged by fire had been looted.  Worse, there were bodies everywhere, some still in the vehicles, some reduced to disintegrating piles of rags and putrefying flesh on the road.

              Naomi hadn’t seen anyone, but she had literally crept backwards until she was out of sight of the pile-up, so great was the threat she sensed.  There was no way she could take Macy through that.  They would have to find another way.

             
And they had. 

Naomi stepped into the living room, and her eyes locked on the pile of supplies in the middle of the room.  Sinking onto the couch, she wrapped her arms around herself, squeezed, and started to rock.  Now that Macy was asleep, she could give in to the terror she had been trying to hide all day.

              “I cannot do this.  I can’t.  I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t.”  It was such a relief to speak the words, to let her face twist and the burning tears fall.  “I want to go home.  I want Scott, and I want to go home, just want to go home…”

             
The plan they had settled on was extreme, but try as she might, Naomi couldn’t think of something better:  They were walking out; hiking, actually, over some of the toughest trails in the region.  Macy had come up with the idea.  They had hauled all the books they’d brought with them out of the back of the truck – Naomi hoped something familiar would comfort her daughter – and after a day spent reading, Macy had held up Piper’s old trail book.

             
“We could hike out, Mama.  We could take trails all the way into Cascade.”  Her delicate finger traced the route on the map.  “We could start out on the Barr Trail, connect to the French Creek Trail, then the Heizer Trail, which goes right down into Cascade.  I bet we could find a car to use there, to drive the rest of the way.  Do you think that would take us past the traffic jam?”

             
Naomi examined the route Macy had pointed out, looking for a flaw in the plan, because…well, because back-country hiking was not part of her skill set.  “It doesn’t look like the French Creek Trail and the Heizer Trail actually intersect. I don’t have enough experience to just wing it, honey.  The few times I’ve hiked, I just followed the person I was with.”  And gasped and wheezed, and wondered why she had ever agreed to such madness.

             
“It says right here that you just follow the pink or orange ribbons on the trees to the Heizer trail.”

             
Naomi took the book from her and read for a moment, then handed it back.  “It also says that Barr Trail is one of the most difficult regional trails because of the elevation gain.  It climbs 3,800 feet in the first three miles.”

             
Macy stared at her for a few moments, then narrowed her eyes.  “You’re planning to go home.”

             
“It’s the only thing that makes sense, honey.  We need to be somewhere safe, somewhere you can rest and recover.”

             
“You promised daddy.  You lied.”

             
The accusation made Naomi’s temper fray along the edges.  “I did not lie.  He couldn’t have known what things would be like.”

             
“He knew exactly what it would be like!  I heard him talking to you – he said the city was the most dangerous place to be, that people would be looting houses and killing each other!  Those people that tried to stop us – that lady – she wanted to take me.  What if they find us?”

             
Her words dumped adrenalin into Naomi’s bloodstream, but she managed to maintain a calm, rational tone.  “Even if I had experience, neither one of us is physically prepared for a hike like that.  I’m overweight and out of shape, and you’re still terribly weak.”

             
“It’s only about ten miles.  The book says people can walk about two miles an hour.  We could get there in a day.”

             
Naomi raised an eyebrow.  “You carried two loads of supplies in here last night, then slept through your dinner.  You really think you can walk for five hours, with that kind of elevation gain?  Really?”

             
Macy had thrown herself back against the pillows of the couch, skinny arms folded across her skinny chest, tears flooding her eyes.  “You lied to Daddy.  And Piper will look for us at the cabin.  You could at least think about it.”

             
“I will,” Naomi had soothed, sure she was lying again, and reconciled to that fact.  “I’ll think about it, honey, I promise.”

             
But she’d kept her word, in spite of herself.  The idea kept creeping back in, as she considered and discarded their other options.  Rampart Range Road was out – she wouldn’t risk taking them anywhere near where they’d been ambushed.  Old Stage Road was equally problematic – too close to Fort Carson’s refugee camps and NORAD, which surely had become a military stronghold with a patrolled perimeter.   Besides, with the rains they’d been having, she couldn’t be sure either of the precipitous dirt roads were still passable. 

Then there was the problem of transportation.  The truck had two flat tires.  She was sure the spare was in good shape – Scott had maintained their vehicles meticulously – but she just had the one, and she’d never changed a tire in her life.  Abandoned vehicles were everywhere, but if she didn’t have a destination in mind, it didn’t make sense to risk the noise a vehicle would make, the attention they would attract.

              Piper was the clincher.  Macy was right; if Piper was alive, she would look for them first at the cabin, Naomi was sure of it.  If she didn’t find them there, she would head for Colorado Springs, and run into the same dangers she and Macy were facing now.

             
She had capitulated late in the afternoon of the second day, and to her consternation, Macy had sobbed with relief.  “Oh, Mama, I’ve been so scared you’d say no!  We have to get to Woodland Park, and I have to get to the cabin.  I just…have to.”

             
Cold, cold, streaking down her spine and clenching her stomach in a fist of ice.  Naomi ignored it.  She was learning to ignore a lot of things, like anything she didn’t have the resources to deal with in a given moment.  Ominous pronouncements from her daughter.  Bizarre mind-melds with her dog.  She forced a light tone and ruffled Macy’s hair.  “Then I’ll find a way to get you there.”

             
A promise which had brought her to this point, sitting on a couch in some stranger’s house, rocking and sobbing like a child while she stared at a pile of supplies she needed to carry into the mountains.

             
Hades whined softly and pressed up against her leg.  She wrapped an arm around his chest but avoided looking directly at him; every time she made eye contact with one of the dogs, her perception shifted and wobbled.  The sensation was weaker with Persephone, but still very real.  Naomi snorted.  As if she knew what “real” was these days.  Surreal, she was becoming quite conversant with.  She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes and heaved a few more deep, shuddering breaths.  Then she swiped the tears off her cheeks and stood up. 

“Miles to go before I sleep,” she muttered.  She had started talking to herself more and more lately, which didn’t even worry her, given the weirdness with the dogs.  She moved to the pile of supplies on the floor for one last winnowing before she started stuffing it all in a backpack.

She hoped they would make it in two days but was planning for four, packing nutrient-dense food and layers of clothing, a single sleeping bag for them to share, and the single-person pup tent.  Macy was so tiny right now, they would both fit easily.  She didn’t think water would be a concern – they could replenish their supply at No Name Creek on the first day, French Creek the second day.  They were still getting water out of the taps, but Naomi didn’t know how water sanitation worked, so she had been using the water purification drops from Scott’s camping supplies for the last several days.  The first-aid kit, fire-starting materials, Scott’s hunting knife, the hatchet, rope, her shotgun and the handgun.  All the ammunition.  Food for the dogs.  The trail book, a compass and a map. 

And that was it.

With the exception of the sleeping bag and the tent, she had gotten it all into a single pack.  Macy wouldn’t be carrying anything except an umbrella that could double as a walking stick.  Naomi sat back on her heels and took deep breaths to ward off another crying jag.  Such a huge pack when she thought about carrying it.  Such a tiny pack when she thought about walking into the wilderness with her frail daughter and two animals who were completely dependent on her. 

Marked trails or not, Naomi had no illusions about the danger of what they would be attempting.  She had lived in Colorado all her life, and knew how quickly the unprepared could get into trouble, even on well-used, popular trails.  Every year, search and rescue teams were called in to save someone who had tried to rock-climb wearing flip-flops, or summit Pikes Peak supplied with a camera, a granola bar and a bottle of water. 

She had been reading the guidebook over and over, but all it did was terrify her more.  So much to remember, and it was all alien to her.  Scott and the girls were the campers – she had always sent them on their way with homemade cookies and a pot of Irish stew, then gone off to get a pedicure and meet girlfriends for lunch.  Now their lives depended on her remembering to make noise while they walked to scare off bears, or how to identify edible plants if something went wrong and they ran out of food, or how to filter and disinfect water when the purification drops were gone.

A skittering thump at the sliding glass door and a low whuff from Hades startled a muffled shriek out of her.  Ares was dangling by his claws halfway up the screen door.  She hadn’t seen him since they had arrived; he had huffed into the overgrown back yard to sulk, and when he didn’t show up for food, she assumed he’d found good hunting as well.  She met his green gaze without thinking, and the world shifted.

The room brightened immediately, but she was seeing it now in shades of black and white, enriched by deep blue and purple tones.  There were three flies in the room - she could hardly rip her gaze away from their buzzing movements.  Reflexively, she clapped her hands over her eyes; at the screen, Ares let out a startled yowl and dropped to the ground. 

Naomi peeked at him using her peripheral vision.  He was stalking back and forth in front of the door, every hair on his
body bottle-brushed out, and when her face turned towards him, he hissed.  He hadn’t hissed at her since she brought him home from the shelter.  Naomi approached the door warily and opened it for him.  He stalked past her, took his usual swipe at Hades, then jumped up on the back of the couch.

Well.  If she didn’t fear she was losing her mind, this would be fascinating.  Keeping her face averted, she gave Ares a stroke along his spine, then headed to the bedroom she was sharing with Macy, Hades a faithful shadow.  Sleep seemed unlikely, but she needed all the rest she could get.

As if she’d set an alarm, Naomi opened her eyes when the sun was only a lighter gray color in the eastern sky.  She roused Macy, and they dressed in the clothes Naomi had set out, whispering in the chill quiet.  She fed the animals a generous breakfast, then braided Macy’s hair while she ate.  The tiny slice of familiar soothed them both.  When she was done, she left Macy to finish eating and called Hades to her.