Glitter + Ashes
Page 15
But your life is trickling out from under the makeshift bandage. Dark lines wriggle beneath the skin of your face. We’ve seen it in so many others, but now it’s you.
“We made it,” you say.
It’s quiet. I’m shaking and sobbing. “I couldn’t keep you safe. Couldn’t—”
Your hand touches my cheek and I choke, unable to say the words. You pull your bandanna off and smile at me. That smile. Your fucking smile. I never deserved it, never deserved you. Look where I’ve led us. Why did I let you convince me to come here? I hate you, God, I hate you.
More screams in the distance. Always more. It doesn’t matter.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” The words spill out of me. My way of saying I love you. They’re useless words and don’t mean anything. Aren’t going to change anything. But I don’t know what else to do.
“Take me to the top, querido. I want to see.”
“I can’t, I need to—”
You reach out and your fingers snake behind my head, around my neck. You pull me close and our foreheads touch. “Show me.”
Another sob rips through me, but you hold me tight and I carry you into the lighthouse. You’ve never felt so light. Drops of blood dribble behind us, staining the concrete. Your blood is dark now.
The stairs creak and groan but hold. The top of the lighthouse is bare. It smells old. You shouldn’t die here. You shouldn’t die at all.
“Marcos, I—”
“Just prop me up there.” Your voice is hoarse. I lower myself against the glass and lay you across my lap. We gaze out across the river to the surrounding lands, your head cradled in my lap.
The water is filled with weepers. They pull themselves through the river, trailing flesh as they swim to get at us. By halfway across they sink beneath the water.
The river is too wide. Our plan worked. The lighthouse is safe.
I trail a finger across your cheek. “How has your skin stayed so soft all these years?”
I didn’t realize I’d spoken out loud. Your smile wrenches at my heart. I want to howl and vomit. The black veins are spreading across your cheeks, marking what’s left of our time.
“Come on, turn me upriver,” you say.
I do as you ask, knowing every movement is leaking more blood onto the cold, gray floor, but unable to deny you anything.
“It’s beautiful,” you say.
You’re so at peace as you look over the desolation surrounding us and I can’t stop crying. It’s not fair. We almost made it. Fuck this place. Fuck this dead river. Fuck this lighthouse. Fuck you for believing me. Fuck me for losing you.
“It’s getting darker. I think it’s time.”
“How am I going to—”
“You just will. You’re a stubborn shit. You’ll figure this out. You’ll survive. Just—” You pause and catch a shuddering breath. “Don’t do it alone. There are others. They need your help, too.”
You squeeze my hand and I bury my face in your shoulder. “Don’t go. Please.” I’ll do anything to keep you here. Please don’t go.
Your body shudders. You never listen to me. Or anyone else. You always do exactly what you want to do and I love you for it.
I cry with my face against your body until I can’t anymore. It’s darker now. The clouds overhead are charcoal. I have to get to work. Any minute now, you’ll start to turn.
Outside, the howls of the weepers have died out. They’ve stopped trying to swim across. It’s peaceful and quiet except for the rumbling laughter of the sky. I slip your body into the river and turn back to the lighthouse.
This was supposed to be ours, but you’re right. You’re always right. It should never have been just for us.
I climb to the top and pull the lever. The mechanism grinds and shudders before the bulb blinks on, bathing the top of the lighthouse in white.
Alicia –
1. The last pack of Nilla Wafers is in a sealed box in the ceiling of the half-bath.
If you found this, you can find it.
2. You’re not forgiven.
I just got sick of Nilla Wafers.
3. As you can probably guess from that, we’ve pretty much cleared out what was left in the stores. Still, depending upon how long Ramon and Nick stick around, you should be able to find enough for at least a couple of years. Maybe more.
Also, we never did go into the houses. Too grim. But there’s probably stuff there.
If you can handle the bones.
4. My memory tells me you can handle the bones.
5. Not that I trust my memory anymore.
6. I wrapped up the bedding and towels in plastic, to stave off mold. I’m afraid I burned the blue velvet one—your favorite—well before the end—but the purple comforter is in the guest room closet.
7. Yeah, the comforter we used that last time.
Not that I knew it was our last time.
8. I don’t trust my memory. But I do remember that.
9. The solar panels can handle charging the fridge or charging the trike, not both. Or the oven and the fridge, not both. Especially when it’s hot, which is nearly always. If you want to try to jury rig up some of the other solar panels that are still around, be my guest, with the caveat that as far as we could tell, they’re either too heavy to move, too small to charge anything, or still configured to those network systems. Where the main systems are underwater, or broken by hurricanes.
10. I checked social media every day after the worst hit. I saw you post.
Right up until two days before the internet here went down, mostly permanently.
11. Truth to tell I’ve mostly given up on the oven. If something needs to be cooked, I have the fire pit in the back. It’ll probably be overgrown again once you get here—if you get here—but it shouldn’t take too long to clear.
12. I kept assuming you would reach out, tell me how you were.
13. Though, fair warning, we’re mostly out of lighter fluid. And lighters.
14. I even thought you might come down here. You had an electric car, and the roads were still open, if nothing else.
The sea didn’t arrive until later.
15. Water. Stick to the rain barrels. I’ve also left a couple of those lifestraw things I scrounged up just before the sporting goods place went underwater. Probably as good as boiling; definitely better tasting. As far as swimming/washing goes—again. Rain barrels.
The changes never touched the gators, and they seem to like their new islands in the ocean.
16. And then, of course, I gave up.
17. Clothes shouldn’t be too much of a problem – no, we didn’t have many clothing stores here, but twenty-three or so survivors can’t go through that much clothing, especially when twenty of them take off after a few years.
18. But I still thought—I still think—you’ll come.
If only to find out what happened to me and the cats.
19. Or to go to the theme parks. They ended up only half submerged, and though everything not submerged is terribly overgrown, it’s still a wonder to explore. I row there from time to time, following the roads beneath the water, not quite covered by seagrass. Yet.
I’ve even stayed at the castle on a couple of nights, looking up at the Milky Way.
Which we can see now. The starry lining of all this, I guess.
20. I don’t know why I’m saying any of this.
This was just supposed to be a simple list.
21. Right. List. Bicycle parts – both of the downtown stores still have plenty in stock. Mild miracle, considering how much Ramon and Nick and I use them, and that of course the roads haven’t been repaved since—Yeah.
On the other hand, turns out that roads last much better than expected when you aren’t driving cars on them.
And we can’t bike all that far without running into water.
But anyway, you’ll find plenty of tires, tubes, frames—whatever. I’m leaving the trike, too—it can’t even fit on the canoe, much less the kayak.
But I was so tired.
And you never contacted me.
23. Medications—yeah, those are pretty much gone, even from that small compounding pharmacy right around the corner..
24. When the ocean rolled in, it was almost a relief.
25. Which is why I stayed. Yeah, the stores are almost empty, yeah, they weren’t kidding when they said it would take at least a century for the waters of that brown lake to be clear again. But the fish haven’t killed me yet; the pineapples and fruit trees and vines are growing wildly, and it’s quiet, except when Ramon and Nick come by. Blessedly quiet.
And creepy as it is, I find something magical in rowing over the drowned homes.
And ducking beneath the live oaks.
26. That, and thinking that at some point, you would come.
Still thinking that.
Thus this list.
27. And then, the shortwave chatter last night.
28. Yes, we have a couple of ham radios around. Yes, we can use them. See the solar panels and chargers mentioned above.
29. No, I haven’t forgotten anything.
Especially the sound of your voice.
27. But if I’m wrong, and you’re not Alicia—
Try to make those Nilla wafers last.
Alice gasped as a patch of gravel came loose under Tamika’s foot. The other girl was as adept as any of them at scrambling over crumbled walls and battered cars, but watching her still made Alice apprehensive.
“Be careful,” Alice said in an urgent whisper.
Tamika smirked over her shoulder. “I’m alright.”
“Are you sure this is where Jamal said the food was?”
Tamika nodded.
“He’s not supposed to come this far from home.”
“It’s fine, Alice,” Tamika said. “He’s a clever kid.”
Alice frowned. “We’re too far from the hideout,” she said. “We should go back.”
“We have no food, Alice,” Tamika said with a frustrated sigh. “We can’t go back to the kids empty—”
Tamika’s words came to an abrupt halt, her eyes widening. She exchanged a look with Alice, and then dashed to the shelter of a crumbling wall. Alice followed, her bare feet calloused against the punishment of the broken roads.
“What is it?” Alice hissed. Tamika pointed.
A scavenger crouched in the street in front of an old storefront. She wore battered leather, a scarf pulled across her mouth, and a pair of goggles over her eyes. Alice suppressed a shiver as she noticed a gun and knife among the implements on her belt.
“What’s she doing?” Tamika asked. The stranger regarded the store front’s broken windows for a moment, and then hopped inside. “There’s no food in there.”
“More for us,” Alice said. “Come on.”
Tamika spared another furtive glance toward the old storefront, then dashed out from behind the ruined wall. Alice followed as Tamika led them to a low brick building whose walls had been scorched by a past blaze. A tilted crucifix hung on the wall next to its shattered doors.
The interior was a charred ruin, chunks of shattered wood burned to the point that Alice could not tell if they were fallen beams or former pews. Tamika glanced around, and then made for a collapsed section of the floor. They clambered down into a basement with walls stained black with soot. Tamika made her way to a small hole that had been dug into the rubble, then disappeared into the shadows of the room beyond. She returned a few moments later, her eyes bright with joy.
“Look at this.” Tamika held up a metal can with a label that said something about “hearts.” Alice returned her smile.
“Looks like food to me,” Alice said. “Come on, we’ll bring it back to the hideout.”
“There’s more cans back here,” Tamika said.
“More?”
Tamika grinned, then turned back into the hole. She soon returned with a can in either hand. One was missing its label, but Alice recognized the other as corn.
Alice stared down at the three cans, very aware of the hollow ache in her stomach. It had been a long time since she’d held so much food at once.
“It’s a good thing we didn’t turn around,” Tamika said.
Alice’s wonder soured, but she was caught off guard by Tamika’s exuberant expression—it was not often that she was graced with such a genuine smile from her—and felt her heart flutter. She felt her annoyance almost fade, but she held fast to it, brushing away her unexpected feelings about Tamika’s smiling lips.
“Come on,” she said, stowing the cans in a little bag lashed to her hip. They barely fit. “We should get back.” Tamika’s face faltered, but offered a terse nod before following Alice outside.
As they walked, Alice could feel the wrongness of the ruined town around them. The choking dust in the thin air, the relentless beat of the sun, the weeks that passed without rain. They passed a ruined house, and Alice felt a pang in her chest as she remembered once playing in that yard. Yellow grass and the ghosts of wildflowers now tangled where she once recalled a bed of soft greenery, far more yielding to young knees. Alice’s ears pricked to a low, distant rumble. She pulled herself from her reverie, and whirled to look at Tamika, whose eyes were wide with fear.
“Marauders,” she said.
Alice tugged at Tamika’s arm as she moved. “Hide,” she said, and turned to dash off toward a collapsed house—but Tamika didn’t budge.
“Look,” she said, and Alice’s eyes followed her finger. There, rummaging around inside the rusted hulk of an old car, was the stranger. A low growl was growing in the air.
“They’re going to kill her,” Tamika said.
“What?” Alice said, tugging on Tamika’s arm again.
“She doesn’t know,” Tamika said, her voice tight.
“Tamika,” Alice said. “We have to move.”
“No,” Tamika said, the fear in her voice replaced by a frightening surety. “We have to help.” She snatched her arm away and dashed toward the stranger.
The rumbling grew louder. Indecision paralyzed Alice as Tamika ran, until Alice turned and fled. Alice slid into the shadow of a crumbled stone wall, choking on her own cowardice, before peering back out into the street.
Tears welled and blurred her vision, but she could still see Tamika tug on the stranger’s jacket. The woman whirled, hand going to the weapons on her belt, and Alice knew a moment of despair. When the woman saw Tamika, though, she glanced around and crouched in front of her. Tamika pointed in the direction of the noises, the stranger nodded, and Tamika led her into the shadow of a wall. They both disappeared from sight.
The sounds of the Marauders fell on top of them. Alice made herself small in the shadows as a pair of overladen cars tore down the street. One vehicle’s open bed swarmed with men and women clad in makeshift armor, waving blades and guns in the air. Behind it came a smaller car wrapped in barbed wire, men hanging out its windows as they shouted, taking swigs from dark bottles.
It seemed to her like the moment would never end—but Marauders only lingered if they saw something to attack or loot. Soon only the dust in the air remained, the sounds of their engines fading into the distance. When the world fell back into silence, Alice jumped up.
Her heart leaped when Tamika emerged from behind the wall. All her own rules forgotten for a moment, Alice ran to her, catching her in a clinging embrace and holding her tight. Tamika gave a little laugh, and hugged Alice back. Before she could fully appreciate the feeling of Tamika’s arms around her, Alice heard the crunch of boots against asphalt.
The stranger had pulled down her scarf and goggles. Her skin was light copper, marred only by the line of dust below her eyes and a faint dusting of stubble on her cheeks. She had dark brown eyes, and wisps of textured black hair poked out o
f her hood. Her black brows were knit in an expression of concern.
“Hello,” the woman said. “What are you two doing out here?”
Alice stepped to put herself between Tamika and the stranger, then offered a narrow-eyed scowl.
They locked eyes, and Alice held the gaze as best she could, trying to put cold intimidation into her stare. The woman did not waver. Instead, she held out a gloved hand.
“I’m Sara,” she said, and offered a small smile. “What’s your name?”
Alice regarded the woman for a moment without taking her hand. “Alice.”
“Alice,” Sara said, as though committing it to memory. “Thank you for warning me about the Marauders. I didn’t think they’d have any reason to come through this part of town.”
The ringing in Alice’s ears had faded, and without it she could hear the gentle hum of motors carried on the wind. She chanced a quick look at her surroundings, then turned back to say, “We shouldn’t be out in the open.”
“You’re right,” Sara said. “Do you know someplace safe we could talk?”
Alice narrowed her eyes. “What do you want with us?”
Sara frowned. “Just to make sure you’re alright.”
“We’re fine,” Alice snapped. “Can we leave?”
“I’m not keeping you here.” There was a hint of sadness in Sara’s voice.
“Good,” Alice said. “Come on, Tamika.”
“Wait,” Sara said. “Where are your parents?”
Alice faltered. She took a deep breath and grabbed Tamika’s arm to drag her away, but Tamika spoke up before she could: “We don’t have any.”
Sara’s face softened. “Why not?”
“They left us,” Alice said, her tone too harsh. Tamika flinched.
Sara pursed her lips. “I was afraid of that,” she said. “Are there more of you?”
Both of them kept quiet.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Sara said. “I just want to help.”
Alice snorted. “How?”
“I’ll cook you something.” Sara smiled. “I have a fire kit, and food and water. Is there someplace safe we could light a fire?”