by Angela Scott
I eased my tattered and torn jacket from my shoulders and let it fall on the grass beside me. I had cuts and bruises, but it hurt to breathe. I needed to fix that, or I wouldn’t be able to fix much of anything else, let alone figure out how to get back to everyone else.
MREs leaked inside my bag, spilling powders and spices over my supplies. My water bottle had become a battered and dented piece of metal, the water long gone through the cracked cap. Cat hair attached itself to everything. Lovely. I pulled out my extra clothing, socks, and supplies, and brushed everything off the best I could. I laid it all organized in front of me, hoping the sun would dry it.
A scratched-up tarp, thanks to Callie, a damp sleeping bag that smelt a little like mashed potatoes and cat pee, a water filter, some matches in a plastic container, my first aid kit, a few okay-looking granola bars, a compass that spun in endless circles when I held it, and the walkie-talkie Dad told me to hide.
The walkie-talkie.
Screw my broken ribs. I held the black radio device in one hand as if I were holding a newborn and quickly wiped off the surface to remove the mess that covered it. The antenna dangled to the side, bent with the wires peeking through the plastic casing.
Turning the whole thing over in my hand, I checked the batteries — dry — and placed the cover back on. I tried to straighten the antenna, holding it with trembling fingers, and anxiously pushed the button.
“Dad?”
I released the button and listened to static, waiting for a reply, all my pain forgotten.
Nothing.
I adjusted the antenna again. Don’t be broken. Don’t be broken. “Dad?”
How far did these things work anyway? How many miles apart before they became useless? I had no idea, but I tried again. “Dad, can you hear me? Are you there?”
The static seemed to drone on forever as I waited.
I placed the battered contraption on the ground and reached for the first aid kit. I opened it, nearly dumping everything in the process with my crazy search for medical tape or Band-Aids. To hell with my cuts and scrapes. I needed to fix that damn antenna!
I tore the tape with my teeth. With dirt-covered hands, I did my best to push the antenna and the wires together before wrapping the entire thing in an unprofessional but hopeful way.
I held in the button again. “Dad? Anyone? Can you hear me?”
More crackling. More static.
Please, please.
I continued to hold the button, listening as I glanced around. Does anything look familiar? Anything at all?
But I recognized nothing.
If only a few feet kept me from picking up a signal, I still had no idea in which direction I should take those steps. Left, right, forward, backward? I wasn’t sure.
After several minutes passed with nothing but the sounds of static, the stream, and my breathing, I lowered the walkie-talkie to my lap. Nothing was ever that easy. It was stupid to think it would be.
Callie approached me tentatively. She lowered her tail but kept her eyes on me.
I didn’t reach for her, because I didn’t want to scare her off. Something needed to go right for me. Reaching for her would only cause her to bolt, so I let her come to me at her own pace and of her own doing.
She came close enough that I could’ve touched her, but I didn’t. She rubbed herself against my leg. When she looked up at me without hatred in her eyes, I ventured to pet her.
She didn’t swipe her claws at me, and I took that as a good sign. I slipped my hand beneath her belly and lifted her gently into my arms. “You and me forever, right?”
I had gone through a lot since the apocalypse began, but sometimes I forgot Callie had gone through more than her fair share as well. She was a pain in the butt, but this kind of life was all she’d known. No catnip. No scratch stands and chasing toy mice.
I held my cat, petting her, trying to calm her and in the process calm myself. Yep, we would figure this out. We would.
Then, I noticed my bracelet was gone.
I lifted my arm and turned my wrist. My brain didn’t want to accept that the bracelet Cole had given me was no longer there.
“No.” Still holding my cat and doing my best to ignore the pain that wreaked havoc on my entire body, I shifted in place, looking as if by some miracle it would lay at my feet. It wasn’t. “No, no, no!’
It could’ve been anywhere. My clothes had been torn and ripped apart as I flew through the air. Branches and bushes slashed at my body as I fell. I had landed in a freakishly weird field of wild grass that stood at least a foot high all around me.
The bracelet was all I had left of Cole, and now, it was gone. The last connection I had to him was gone.
Had I been in better shape, I would’ve searched for it. At least I would’ve given it a good try, but in my current condition, I simply hugged Callie closer to me and sank further into the ground.
As much as I wanted that bracelet, needed that bracelet, it was by far the least of my worries.
I had no idea where I was, the walkie-talkie didn’t work, I had no water, my food was destroyed, and I wasn’t even sure I could stand.
The bracelet was just a bracelet, yet losing it hurt just as much as everything else.
“We’ll figure this out.” I continued to stroke Callie as I tried to wrap my mind around what I should do next, and where to even begin. “We always do.”
I had to remind myself that my track record for surviving hard stuff to this point was at a hundred percent, even if it seemed daunting and impossible.
We could do this.
Because what other choice did I have?
The walkie-talkie crackled, reminding me of its presence. I reached to turn it off. I needed to save the batteries and try again later, when I could think a little better. Right before I switched it off, the static disappeared. Silence filled the void.
“Tess?”
Chapter 10
I put Callie down and snatched up the walkie-talkie. “Yes, yes, it’s me!” In my excitement, I forgot how a walkie-talkie worked and hadn’t pressed the button as I spoke.
Idiot.
I pushed the button, pressing it harder than I needed to. “I’m here! It’s me!”
I released it and looked around, as though maybe Dad and Toby would miraculously walk out of the trees. As if one thing had everything to do with the other.
The walkie-talkie crackled and spit out static.
I waited. After several seconds passed without a response, I pressed the button again. “Are you still there? Can you hear me?” I took my thumb off the button, listening.
Please be there. Please be there.
Several more seconds passed.
Impatient, I shifted a little and held the walkie-talkie higher, doing everything to ignore the pain that lifting my arm inflicted on the rest of my body. When that didn’t work, I tried putting the walkie-talkie back in the same spot when I had first heard my name.
No, don’t do this to me! Come on!
Still nothing.
Dad was alive. He’d said my name, and that was all the encouragement needed.
My ribs felt as though they might shoot right through my chest. My head felt as if it were ten times its normal size, but I forced myself to kneel on one knee while adjusting my other leg to stand. I grasped the walkie-talkie, refusing to let it go, and used my free hand to push off the ground.
I wavered, I wobbled, but I stood —an incredible feat I’d thought impossible only moments before.
As I stood, the severity of my situation became all that more daunting. It didn’t matter which direction I looked. It all seemed the same. Nothing appeared familiar. Trees, at least a mile away, encircled the grassy field. If I walked to my right, I could either be walking towards my family or walking farther away.
“Tess?”
Hearing my name nearly caused me to drop the walkie-talkie. I grasped it tighter and pressed the button. “Yes! I hear you! Can you hear me?”
�
��I hear you.” The words pushed their way through the static and crackles. “I hear you.”
“Are you okay? How’s Toby?”
“I … I don’t know.”
Strange answer. A horrible answer. I pressed the button again. “Dad, what’s going on?” I released the button and held the walkie-talkie with both hands.
More static and crackling.
I glanced to the trees again. What in the world was going on? Did they get separated from one another like I had? Or worse, had something horrific happened to Toby?
I gave him several seconds to answer and when he didn’t, I pushed the button harder than I’ve ever pushed it before. “Tell me what’s going on, please! You’re scaring me.”
The trees lining the fields continued to hold their secrets and static filled the incredible silence.
“Dad!” I tried again, and released the button, but held my breath.
“It’s me.”
A relieved breath passed through my lips. The stupid walkie-talkie communication drove me crazy! The wait, the silence in between — it was more than I thought I could handle.
My thumb hovered over the button, about to press it and flood Dad with questions, because boy, did I have a lot of them, but the static disappeared. His heavy breathing took its place. A small, painful cry on his end made me cringe. I grasped the walkie-talkie as if I could somehow will my strength to pass through it to him.
What was going on? My mind swam with horrific images — the flying trees, Dale slamming into a tree, the body crushed beneath the trunk of a massive tree. Had the same thing happened to Dad or Toby? Please no.
With his finger on the button, I couldn’t do anything but listen to his painful cries and gut-wrenching moans. I wanted to scream into the device, have him tell me what was going on and where he was. I wasn’t in great shape, but I would run to him if I needed to. I’d save him. Ribs could burst through my chest, my head could explode, but I would save him.
His cries settled and softly, barely audible, he spoke, “Tess, it’s me … Marco.”
I froze, my hands still clasping the walkie-talkie but my brain not comprehending.
“Tess?”
No, this couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t right. Where was my dad?
Where is my dad?
“Tess, I need … ahhh….” He trailed off as painful moans replaced his words once again.
His cries dragged on, and as I listened to his excruciating pain carrying through the crackling, I glanced to the trees once more. To my left. To my right. What do I do? Where was my dad, my brother? What do I do?
Marco must have released the button on his end because static replaced his cries.
My head whirled on my shoulders — not with dizziness, though that remained, but more out of complete confusion and a whole lot of fear. The lifeline I thought I had with my family wasn’t a lifeline at all.
Instead, I got Marco.
Callie stretched her little body along the length of my leg as if wanting me to pick her up. I couldn’t. Not physically and not mentally.
I couldn’t do anything.
I stood there, barely able to remain upright, with a cat trying to climb up my leg, and a static-filled walkie-talkie in one hand that connected me to Marco. I had no idea what happened to my family or where they were. Or if they were even alive.
And above all that, Marco was hurt.
“Are you there?” he asked, his voice strained.
I closed my eyes, steadying myself. Steadying myself for what exactly, I wasn’t quite sure. I held down the button. “I’m here.”
“I need your help,” he said. “I really need your help. Ahhhh….” His cries took over once more and quickly turned into full-blown sobs.
“Okay, okay.” I still didn’t know what to do or how I’d even go about doing it. “Marco, what’s going on? Where are you?”
He must have been in a lot of pain because he took longer to answer. When he did, his voice sounded much smaller and a lot weaker. “My legs,” he groaned. “The tree. I … I can’t move.”
“Are you still tied to your tree? The tree where I last saw you?”
“Yeah.”
That was a start. “I landed in a weird grassy field,” I said as I looked around, trying to guess what direction I’d come from. “I don’t recognize it. I don’t recognize anything. Nothing looks familiar at all.”
“But are you okay?”
Nice of him to ask. “I’m alive,” I answered.
“Yeah, me too,” he chuckled. “Barely.”
“Do you remember a stream as we walked? There’s one running through the field.”
It took him a minute to respond. “I don’t … I don’t remember, but I think I hear water.” He was silent for another minute. “Yeah, I think I hear water.”
“Okay, that’s good. Marco?”
“Yeah?”
“Where is everyone? Where’s my dad and Toby?”
“I don’t know.” He moaned a little. “I passed out and when I came to, everyone was gone. Maybe they thought I was dead and left me behind.” He started crying again.
I prayed that was the case. The alternative that my family died was too much to bear.
“Marco?”
“Yeah?”
“Where did you get the walkie-talkie?” Ever since he’d revealed himself to me, I wondered.
He’d pushed the button. I could hear his breathing, but he didn’t say anything for a long moment. “I don’t want to say,” he finally spoke. “You’ll be mad.”
I took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. “I won’t be mad.” A total lie. I could feel myself getting madder even as I waited his response.
“You’ll still help me?”
I took another deep breath. “Yeah, I will.”
“I….” He paused and groaned. I could imagine him doubled over in pain, and it softened my resolve a little. “I stole it,” he said, whimpering. “I took it out of your dad’s backpack yesterday. I thought it would come in handy. I took a granola bar, too. A chocolate chip one, because I was hungry and those are my favorite.”
Before he even answered, I knew he’d taken it. I’d hoped he’d say he had one of his own and coincidentally put it on the same frequency as the one Dad had selected for the two of ours. Had that been the case, I might have had a chance to find my dad with the tiny hand-held transmitter. Now, I knew for sure there wasn’t.
“It’s okay,” I said, though I didn’t feel very okay with the situation at all. “I’m going to find you.”
“Tess?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m glad I took the walkie-talkie, or I’d be all by myself right now.”
I didn’t answer for a long moment. I wasn’t in the mood to look for silver linings in this condition. Not yet. I wasn’t even sure the situation with Marco could be considered a silver lining at all. “Marco, we need to save the batteries, or these walkie-talkies will be no good to us. I need you to turn it off, count to three hundred, and then turn it back on and wait for a minute before turning it off. If you don’t hear me, turn it off, count to a hundred and try again. I’ll do the same thing.”
“No, I don’t want you to leave me! I can’t turn it off. What if I can’t hear you? What if you can’t find me? What if—“
His questions seemed endless. He worried about every possible scenario, and I wondered if he’d ever take his finger off the button so I could respond. By the end, he was crying.
When it was finally my turn to speak, I pressed the button. “I will find you, Marco. I promise. I’m going to follow the stream, and I’ll find you. These things only work if they’re within a few miles of each other, so I can’t be that far. It’s going to be okay.” The walkie-talkie I used to play with as a kid fell out of range after only a few blocks apart, so I imagined these ones were similar, though better. How much better, I wasn’t exactly sure.
“How are you going to count?”
I stared at the walkie-talkie u
nsure I heard him right. “What?”
“How are you going to count? Like one, two, three, or one Mississippi, two Mississippi? Are you just saying the numbers or adding something in between? We’ll be way off count from one another if we’re counting differently.”
“Just count like normal, one, two, three. Don’t count fast. Just normal.”
“I’ll count one, two, three. How’s that? Does that sound right?”
I glanced to the sky above again. Heaven help me. “That sounds perfect. I’m going to turn mine off, bandage myself up a little, and then I’m coming for you.”
“Tess?”
“What is it, Marco?”
“I think I pissed my pants when I was unconscious, so don’t think bad of me, okay?”
If anything, his peeing his pants was only the frosting on a three-tiered cake made of crap. He’d taken the walkie-talkie from Dad, and I had no idea if they were alive or where they were, so urine-covered pants were the least of my worries.
“It happens to the best of us,” I told him before I turned my walkie-talkie off.
Chapter 11
…Two hundred ninety-seven, two hundred ninety-eight, two hundred ninety-nine, three hundred.
I underestimated how difficult counting to three hundred would be. Carrying a backpack on sore shoulders, walking a distracted cat on a leash, and doing everything to forget how much each breath hurt made it difficult to keep an accurate count. Several times, I had to randomly pick a number and start counting from there.
Counting, despite how hard it was to stay focused, kept my mind from wandering too far and worrying about things I had no control over. Not that I didn’t worry, because I did, but the counting had a calming effect and kept me from freaking out.
This was very much a freaking out kind of moment.
I had two big worries. The first, I’d always been told that if I become lost and separated, I should stay put in one place. It made it easier for people to find you, but here I was heading off into the unknown. If Dad and Toby were looking for me, I’d made it difficult by leaving the spot the wild winds had dropped me.
