I highly doubted any trains were traveling west into the prohibited zones. Maybe a car rental agency would show me pity.
“Let’s see what’s on TV, honey,” I said, not wanting to watch news, but needing some sound to drown the silence. “Mom’s going to rest here, try to sleep. Will, listen…”
He turned on the television, and then sat beside me. His trusting face nearly ripped me in two. “You may not leave this room. You must stay here with me, okay? Sleep next to me. Be my love bug, right? Just like at home when you sleep in Daddy’s spot,” I said, with a forced smile.
“I don’t have my pajamas.”
I shook my head, regretting it as pain curled around my skull. “Remember that one time when you were tired and Grandma put you to bed in your swimsuit?”
He nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“It will be like that.” I coughed.
I burrowed under the covers and shivered from a searing cold. “Will, promise me. You will stay here beside me.”
“I promise, Mom.”
As I listened to him flip through miscellaneous programs, I went to bed with only one positive thought. Will always kept his promises. He wouldn’t leave me, too. He was honest to a fault, like his mother. For that, I was truly grateful. A core rule-follower. Except when he wandered or daydreamed, I thought with a fatigued snort.
The buzzing sound of news reports filled the room as I drifted off to sleep.
“The National Guard is now present in record numbers in all the impacted states as shown on this model. They’ve had difficulty navigating the debris and getting into the devastated areas of Montana and Wyoming, and they encourage anyone in those areas to stay put and wait for evacuation, and for loved ones to not attempt travel to these regions, which are experiencing aftershocks. Military personnel have been using drones to assess the damage, as seen in this footage. They have set up mobile hospitals as far east as Kansas. Travel is strictly prohibited west of Dodge City, in this red zone as indicated.”
I coughed and buried myself deeper under the covers even though I should have watched the report. Will would remember it for me. I’d quiz him later.
“Meanwhile, in Missouri, we experienced our first rain with ash. A moderate tremor was reported in the western part of the state this morning. Tim, tell us about that rain. How is it out there?”
“Thanks, Josie. We’re here in Springfield. Yes, reports of outages throughout the metro area have us concerned, and utility companies are busy restoring power to those affected. About 4,500 residents are without power. Look here, a light coat of gray ash on almost every surface. Not measurable. Fascinating. You can see what it does when I rub it between my fingers. Hard to imagine that something this tiny could pollute water supplies, cause hiccups in power transformers, and inhibit travel. See, Josie, it’s not like rain or snow or mud. It’s a different consistency—it’s broken pieces of rock, and it will need to be handled in a specialized manner. The National Guard has been collaborating with the USGS on clean-up and removal. We are waiting on word of the scale of the tremor experienced in western Missouri. All citizens are encouraged to drink only bottled water, as some water systems and septic systems are reporting issues already.”
God, he sounded like Will. Were all meteorologists eccentric?
Click.
“…the tsunami that hit the Oregon and Washington coasts, as well as the one in Japan. Over 50,000 people are dead or missing after the monster waves hit last week in the wake of the eruption and powerful earthquakes…”
Click.
“…El Niño. The ash traveled with the prevailing winds. Ash is expected to continue east over the next week. Weather predictor models suggest it may reach Europe in another ten to fourteen days, depending on which model you go with. This is truly a global disaster and will take years to clean.
“Governor Howell has urged citizens to stay indoors, limit travel, and monitor water usage. Prices have been frozen, per federal declaration. Although Missouri has not been greatly impacted yet, long-term impact is yet to be determined, especially on livestock and crops. The National Guard will be distributing recovery packs and cleaning supplies, including masks, starting with areas most in need, closest to the eruption zone. Shauna is in downtown Jefferson City, where reports of vandalism, car accidents, and riots are on the rise. Shauna, what’s happening there?”
Click.
“The death toll has risen to over 250,000. Thousands of stranded passengers from the airlines are trying to get home to families.”
Click.
“…next, scientific light can be shed on this situation. Matt has an interview with the head of the USGS, Dr.Woodhull…”
I fell asleep, unable to listen anymore.
****
The snap of a door lock woke me. I had slept fitfully, mother’s ears on high alert, not for a child’s waking or a nighttime danger…I listened for a saving grace.
A shaft of light broke into the dark room from the opening door, and another headache hit me as I slipped out of bed in reflex, ready for action. I grabbed air, a clenched fist. My handy tire iron was, well, in the car.
Reid entered the room, worn relief etched across his features. He propped the door open with a case of something.
I unleashed my pent-up fears and anger in loud whispers. “Where the hell were you?”
Never mind he carried several plastic grocery bags looped around his arms and two cases of something. Okay, he got stuff. I looked at the clock. It was now past midnight.
“I got delayed. I’m sorry, AJ.”
“Delayed? You were gone for hours. Hours! With my car!”
He plopped the cases, which I now recognized to be electrolyte vitamin beverages and children’s protein drinks on the empty bed beside us. He allowed the overflowing plastic bags to slide off his arms. Irritation furrowed his low brow, his thick dark eyebrows knotted. It was then that I noticed the cut on the bridge of his nose, dry with recent blood.
He plodded to the door and grabbed his backpack from the hallway. He stumbled to the second bed, his gait wobbly. He dropped his backpack at the foot of the bed. All we had was the light streaming in from the bathroom, a.k.a. Will’s nightlight now.
Winded, he said, “You fainted. I searched your car, but the medicine in your first aid kit was rudimentary. I left to get you better medicine while it was available, talk to a pharmacist, grab water and food, and to fill the gas containers.” He dragged his hands through his hair with an exaggerated yawn. He tore open the plastic covering on the electrolyte drinks, pulled one out, and handed it to me. Thirsty, I stubbornly took it but didn’t open it.
“That took ten hours? And you didn’t leave a note. Thought you were a note guy? Why are you all roughed up?” My raised voice stirred Will. His snoring stopped, and he rolled over.
“Reid!” he said, instantly awake, pushing aside the covers and running toward Reid. To my surprise, he gave Reid a hug around his legs. My stomach churned, and I wasn’t sure why. I was certain that part of my ire was from the feelings I still harbored about many things. I dearly wanted to keep it together.
He had returned. Calm down, racing heart.
“Here, buddy,” Reid said in a low voice, handing him a smaller bag, which I presumed was filled with snacks. “I got some apples and bananas, too.”
I dug my nails into my palms to keep myself from approaching him in anger.
I turned to Will. “Will, please go back to bed, okay?”
“But—”
“You may have one of those snacks with breakfast.”
The glimmer of youthful excitement danced across his face.
Will crawled under his covers. I gave him a kiss on his cheek, stroked his hair, and whispered, “I love you.”
Neither Reid nor I spoke for a few minutes. I sat at the desk near the foot of the bed, watching Will work himself back to sleep with tossing and turning, while my mind pitched like a ship in a stormy sea. I opened the electrolyte drink and consumed half of it i
n seconds. Finally, Will’s deep rhythmic breathing told me his body had drifted off to la-la land. The sea in my mind calmed.
Reid sat on the edge of the bed nearest to me.
We spoke at the same time. He said, “How are you feeling?” as I asked, “What happened?”
Fatigue caught up with me, and I conceded to being nice. He did return after all, and I lacked the energy for a fight. “Not great.”
“What are your symptoms?”
“Other than fainting?” I said.
“Yeah, besides that.” He sifted through a bag and removed a thermometer.
I waved it away. “Probably a cold like I said.” Cough, malaise, scratchy throat, achy muscles, I wanted to add, but didn’t. Oh, and tingles in my fingers and skull. Whirling nausea. Mild heart palpitations. I thought about the empty pill bottle in my handbag. As if in rebuttal, a coughing fit seized me, and I grabbed my inhaler from my handbag and took a puff. I deliberately focused on my breathing as the wheezes rattled in my lungs. Another puff.
Reid’s gaze held mine, dark and sharp. The cut on his nose was noticeable from whatever brawl he’d experienced. “Only a cold? You have asthma. Do you think the ash—”
I nipped that one in the bud immediately. “No.”
He didn’t believe me. “We are getting closer.”
I took slow inhalations and exhalations followed by a sip of the electrolyte drink as the rescue inhaler worked its way into my system and my lungs relented their siege. “Will, he has asthma, too. But he’s not coughing.” Yet.
“Do you faint often?”
“No.”
“Any other weird symptoms? Anything, like, neurological?”
As if on cue, a shiver radiated through my skull. “No.”
“I asked the pharmacist. Maybe you’re dehydrated, too?”
“Maybe.”
Pharmacist. Crap. I could have tried them. What would come from it though? I needed my doctor to call in the prescription.
“Well, I got you a few things. You need a decent night’s rest. That will help. I’ll get another room for myself once you’re settled.”
I sat next to him while he thumbed through his bag. I swallowed the multi-symptom cold pills he handed me. I lowered my voice to not disturb Will. “What happened?” I asked with a gentle and forgiving tone. “And why didn’t you leave a note?”
He stretched his jaw. “Yeah, I’m sorry…again. I told Will. Then I was halfway to town when I realized I should’ve left you a note and I didn’t have your phone number. Not that phones are reliable.”
I sighed.
“It wasn’t good. This place,” he said, waving around the room, “seems okay for now, but I went into town ten miles down the road. It was a mess, disorderly. People vandalizing. Disputes at stores. Looting. The pharmacy was locking their gates when I arrived. The pharmacist said St. Louis was worse than Chicago.”
I realized belatedly that I had never asked him more about Chicago. “We’re not in the fallout zone, or whatever you call it. We’re in God-Knows-Where, Missouri! How can this be happening?”
“Apparently, the ash rain has people freaked. The tremors, too.”
“The rain stopped though.”
“Many of the water sources are already contaminated.”
A muscle twitched behind my eye, and my skin prickled with gooseflesh as our conversation moved to the reality of what was going on around us. I supposed I wasn’t as prepared for all this as I had thought. “That doesn’t explain the ten hours, Reid.”
He rubbed his nose. “I got in a scuffle with a few guys outside the liquor store.”
I immediately tensed and fisted my hands on the edge of the bedspread to fight the inner rage. “You went to a liquor store?” The coil within me threatened to unwind at any moment.
“No. I passed it on the way to the car. When I saw the town in shambles, people vandalizing and fighting, I decided to park the car somewhere else. I parked about a half mile out of town, off the highway, and then walked into town.” There was a clear pause in his explanation. I read his face in the dim light, seeking the truth.
“Anyway, this altercation. Two jerks approached me, started demanding money, wanted to pilfer my stuff. We had it out. The police were already in the streets, damn riot gear on. I got hauled to the station along with the two assholes. They kept me for hours, but once they determined I wasn’t a threat and the two drunks were the ones who needed to be there, they released me. Sorry, AJ. I didn’t think to get your cell number until it was too late. Not that phones are working well.” He brushed both hands, with swollen and scuffed knuckles, back through his hair and blew another breath. “You fainted. Twice. I had to do something. You sure it’s nothing else?”
I gleaned what energy I could. “I’m sorry for overreacting. I feel like shit.”
“It’s okay.”
I sat for a moment. “The car? It’s okay?”
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
He laid a hand on top of one of my clenched ones, releasing my tight grip on the bedspread. He squeezed lightly. “It’ll be all right. We’ll get to your son,” he said, his voice purposely soft-spoken.
I gulped and nodded as he read me too well for somebody I’d just met. Then I fell onto his shoulder, allowing myself to break. The knot in my stomach unwound. He slipped a warm arm around me. It’d been too long since I’d been held by anyone. He felt damn fine.
Wheezing rattled my chest, and Reid pulled back, took my electrolyte drink from the desk, and handed it to me. He brushed aside the moist hair on my forehead. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
I nodded. “It’s all this shit, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.”
I rested on him for a few minutes, listening to the even rhythm of his heartbeat and breathing. He cleared his throat. That was my cue. I moved away from him…though I didn’t want to.
Finally, he spoke. “You need to sleep. I’ll get another room.”
“Okay.”
I grabbed a tissue from the nightstand, blew, and then inhaled to clear my sinuses momentarily. A different scent struck me. At first it was Reid. He smelled like sweat and spicy deodorant. Familiar already.
Then, it was overpowering, woodsy hops. My head spun.
The burning imprint of that venomous scent summoned the raw memory of Harrison’s death from the depths…from a day that had shattered my life the way his windshield had been shattered when the drunk driver slammed into his car.
My stomach lurched, and I gripped my head, unsure why these old memories and sensations assaulted me now. I pulled away from Reid, but not without inhaling as if I was clearing my nose more, and I hovered closer to his mouth than I would have liked.
He reached for me, but I recoiled. “You okay?” he asked, eyebrows lifted in alarm.
“No.” I couldn’t conjure a compelling lie. I sniffed intentionally, but with another tissue over my nose, exaggerating my drip.
God, the smell stung my nostrils. I couldn’t tell if it was on his breath or his clothes. Yet…wait. Was it on his breath?
Oh, my God, was it? “My husband, he was—Reid, you—” I stammered. “You left us. Now you reek of alcohol.”
I caught his stare. His usual agreeable countenance was now somber. Had he been drinking? I sought evidence of intoxication in his eyes, as illogical as that sounded.
“I didn’t drink anything,” he said.
Did I know this man who was alone in a hotel room with us? I shifted farther away. “I shouldn’t be…you…” The words wouldn’t string together. I couldn’t tell him why I had this aversion to alcohol. I began again, “My husband. He was…”
My brain spun madly in a direction I loathed. My tongue was tied. Why couldn’t I say it?
I put a damper on my racing thoughts while distancing myself from Reid with a few backsteps.
“What’s the matter?” He rose, a hand outstretched. “What happened?”
A muted sadness crossed his face. I’d only uncovered
the tip of his story, but I could barely keep my eyes open, let alone look at him and expose the entire iceberg. A wave of irrational thoughts ran wild in my mind.
“I…” I couldn’t say it all. “Us, this, I’m not sure. Thanks for all you’ve done, but I think you should…” I rubbed my achy head. “I…”
“Listen, AJ, I get it. I left. It messed with your head. Now I’m back smelling like booze. It wasn’t me though. I swear.”
I hugged myself, finding it in no way soothing. I nodded but couldn’t speak.
Reid opened his mouth but closed it. He approached the desk and laid down his set of car keys. “I’ll go. I’m sorry I scared you by leaving like that.”
A long, splintered pause hovered between us as he stood near the door.
“Yeah, maybe you should go,” I said, my conscience and words not aligning on that agreement.
“I didn’t mean to…” He furrowed his brow, pressed thinned lips together, and heaved a sigh.
“Me, too.”
His shoulders slumped as he picked up his backpack with a grunt. He then straightened his back, settled the pack, and left without a look back.
The click of the door lock reverberated in the hotel room and sent shudders through me.
My mouth was dry, and tension released from me.
I sat at the desk for what seemed minutes. What had I done? I ran to the door. Maybe he was pacing, waiting for me to get my muddled mind in order.
The hallway was empty. I stood there for a moment, looking, waiting. Maybe he got another room like he’d said? We’d touch base again in the morning when my brain’s functioning returned. I slowly closed the door and locked it.
I then crawled under the covers beside Will and wrapped my arms tightly around my baby.
I slept hard.
****
Giggles woke me.
The bed creaked.
I cracked open an eye to find Finn bouncing on the bed. He laughed hysterically. He was in his red and white snowman footie pajamas. His blue eyes shone with tears of mirth.
Will Rise from Ashes Page 13
