by Keith Taylor
“Mommy, look. It’s snowing.”
Karen opened her eyes to see Emily standing above her, staring in wonder at the white flakes falling from the sky. There was a cloud of them floating out from over the city, drifting to the ground from the mushroom cloud above. From here it really did look like snow. It was beautiful.
“Doc,” she groaned, dragging herself painfully to her elbows. “Is this…?”
“Yeah, I see it. It’s fallout.” Ramos looked up at the sky with dread. “We have to find cover. Right now.”
As he stood he noticed Emily reaching out to catch a flake of ash drifting towards her, and he quickly snatched away her hand. “Don’t touch it, Emily. That’s not the good kind of snow, honey. Come on, let’s get inside. Karen?”
Karen forced herself to stand on trembling legs, shaking like a newborn calf. “Can you take her, Doc?” she asked. She wanted nothing more than to hold onto Emily tight, but she knew Ramos could move more quickly.
He nodded, shrugging off his lab coat and draping it over Emily’s head, the tails dragging along the ground like a cloak. “Let’s play a game, Emily. Let’s see if we can run all the way to the tunnel without any of the snow touching us, OK?”
Emily nodded, peering out from beneath the coat, and Ramos took her hand and set off for the tunnel mouth at a jog.
It was only a few dozen yards to the mouth of the tunnel, but Karen’s slow, limping walk from the crumbling edge of the bridge took what felt like an eternity. She shivered with revulsion as each new flake of ash touched her skin, brushing them off like burning embers.
The ash felt harmless, but Karen had heard enough horror stories about nuclear war to understand what this was. It was the radioactive remains of the city, the detritus of vaporized streets, buildings and even people, and the moment the first flake touched her the damage was done. Radiation was tearing through her body, unseen and unstoppable, and she could only take so much before it would become fatal. It would poison her from the inside out, tearing her DNA to shreds.
Finally the tunnel closed over her head, and she felt a wave of relief as she stepped across the line on the asphalt where the flakes of ash stopped. She realized she’d been holding her breath as she walked, and now she let out the stale air in her lungs and took a deep gulp.
“Are we safe here?” she asked, shaking out her trembling hands and brushing unseen ash from her body. “Do you think the roof is thick enough to keep the radiation out?”
Ramos shook his head and lowered his voice so Emily couldn’t hear. “No. We need to get somewhere completely sealed off from the outside, and we have to do it in the next few minutes.” He looked back towards the city. “The wind will carry the fallout right through here. If anything it may be worse in the tunnel. The radiation won’t disperse as well as out in the open. We really don’t want to stick around while this stuff falls.”
Karen desperately scanned the walls of the tunnel, searching for anything that might offer hope of a shelter, but on this level the lights were switched off. Just a few dozen yards into the tunnel the walls vanished into darkness, and she couldn't see a—
Wait.
Fifty yards ahead there was the faintest glow, so dim that she had to blink a few times to make sure it wasn't just a mote in her eye, but it was still there. “Doc,” she said, pointing towards what looked like a single candle in the endless darkness. “There.”
She took Emily by the hand and stepped into the gloom, fearful of what was ahead but driven onward by what lay behind. As the ground beneath her vanished she felt her way forward blindly, guided by nothing but the dim glow, and when it finally drew close enough to see clearly she almost wept with relief.
It was an emergency exit sign.
Escape.
΅
CHAPTER TWENTY
DON'T MOVE A MUSCLE
JACK SWORE AT the ground. He swore at the trees. He swore at everything in his eyeline, but he saved his harshest words for Warren, bundled up in the canopy, a buck ninety of lumpen, awkward ballast constantly trying to drag him to his grazed knees.
At first he’d tried to carry the unconscious man in a fireman’s lift. He’d hoisted Warren over one shoulder and staggered forward through the forest, but his back had protested so quickly it was almost laughable. He’d only made it ten steps before he tripped on a tree root and tumbled painfully, face first to the ground, like a weightlifter who only realized he’d added far too much to the bar halfway through a clean and jerk.
For a long while after he rolled Warren's body off his shoulders and pulled himself from the mud he’d thought about going ahead alone, hoping the man would survive until he returned. His new friend was still losing blood. It kept seeping through the bandage no matter now much pressure he placed on the wound, even when he cinched the bandage so tight that Warren whimpered with pain even though he was unconscious. There was no way Jack could carry someone that heavy a half mile over uneven ground to the gas station, and he'd reach it much more quickly alone. That is, if Warren had even been right about the distance, or the direction.
Jack had even, for a shameful, treacherous moment, considered leaving him to die. An awful voice had whispered in his ear that every moment helping the man was a moment longer away from Emily. It whispered that it was already too late. He’d already lost too much blood. He was old and weak. It would be better to let him slip peacefully away.
He was relieved that the voice on the other shoulder had been a little louder, and that the other voice had offered a solution.
It took Jack ten minutes to limp back to the field and untangle his parachute from the foliage, and another five to gather it all up and drag it back to the forest, but Boomer was still waiting for him when he returned, patiently standing guard over Warren. As soon as she saw him return she bounded around him excitedly, relieved in a way that only a dog can be that he hadn’t left her behind, and she watched curiously as Jack spread the canopy across the ground and rolled Warren on top of it.
It had seemed so simple when the idea had come to him. The parachute looked as if it could have been designed specifically to drag a heavy weight. With Warren bundled securely in the canopy Jack gathered the cords in a bunch over his shoulder and pulled, imagining the man behind him would slide easily over the ground.
Nuh uh. Every inch was a painful, grinding slog. Warren’s weight was unbalanced and top heavy, and dragging him was like trying to drag a half filled water bed up a flight of stairs.
It wasn’t so bad across the slippery, dew-soaked grass of the field, but as soon as the rough ground returned the canopy began to snag on every rock and branch it passed. Jack had to stop every couple of minutes to untangle the cords and stop Warren tumbling out onto the ground, and between those delays he had to stop every five minutes to catch his breath and wait for his burning calves to stop cramping.
Night fell as he limped on through the trees, and in the darkness the forest became a moonlit assault course filled with a million unseen obstacles. Branches appeared from nowhere to poke him in the eye, and rocks and roots seemed to move into his path to trip him, but he pushed on, stopping every few minutes to check Warren’s thready pulse.
He knew he was making progress, but he worried it wasn’t enough. Warren’s breathing was becoming labored. His pulse felt weaker every time he checked. His skin was worryingly pale. It was clear he wouldn’t survive much longer without treatment, and even if he could find some kind of clinic or pharmacy there was no telling if he could survive without a blood transfusion.
Still Jack pushed on, forcing his aching legs to take the strain, ignoring the pain of the cords scoring deep lines into his shoulder, and then finally, just as he thought it couldn’t get any worse, he fell face first into the foliage as the weight suddenly vanished from behind him.
“Oh, you have to be kidding me!” he yelled, tossing the cords angrily to the ground. The canopy had finally split in two. In the moonlight he could just about make out the torn edge of the sil
k hanging on a rock ten yards behind him. Warren had rolled out through the gap, and when Jack finally stopped swearing at the forest it became clear there wasn’t enough fabric left to fashion a new net. He was screwed.
For several minutes Jack sat where he’d fallen, drained and demoralized, unsure if he even had the energy to drag himself to his feet. He couldn’t imagine carrying Warren another step, especially without the help of the parachute. Everything ached.
Beside the old man Boomer stood head down and dejected, whining a little as her master groaned deliriously. She didn’t understand what was going on but she could sense Jack’s mood, and she wisely stayed quiet while he indulged in a little self pity.
Jack stared at Warren’s prone body for what felt like an eternity, unable to come up with a solution, but as he sat wallowing in misery Boomer suddenly raised herself to her full height. She turned her head quizzically towards the forest ahead, as if listening to something Jack couldn’t hear.
“What is it, girl? You OK?” Jack asked.
Boomer let out a soft whine and broke into a clumsy run, vanishing into the trees, and almost as soon as she disappeared Jack realized something: he missed her. He was so exhausted and miserable he felt like he could fall to the ground and wait for death, but Boomer's energy had been keeping him afloat. Her enthusiasm had warded off the worst of the misery. Her barks of encouragement had kept him walking when his calves burned with pain, and urged him back to his feet when he'd rested a little too long. Now, his only company the rustling trees and Warren's labored breath, he felt as lonely as he'd ever felt stumbling drunkenly back to an empty hotel room in a strange and unfamiliar city far from home.
He called out her name, an edge of desperation in his voice, but no response came.
Seconds turned into minutes. “Boomer!” he yelled again, his voice swallowed without an echo by the trees that seemed to be crowding in on him, looming over him. “Where are you?”
Still she didn't answer, and now Jack felt the stress and solitude finally overwhelm him. He pulled himself to his feet and called out again, but this time his voice cracked as he called. Again, and now he found his call grow to a cry, too loud, desperate for a response. Again, and now a tear ran down his cheek as he heard nothing but silence answer him.
Without thinking he pushed his way through the dark foliage, leaving Warren in the clearing where he lay as he chased the dog, still calling her name with a manic edge to his voice. Branches whipped at his face as he pushed through the trees, and in the darkness his foot caught a protruding root and tripped him. He stumbled forward, falling to his knees in thick, sucking mud, and scrambled out on hands and knees, still yelling.
Now his vision was blurred with tears. He was caked in mud, disoriented and unsure which way was forward. The trees felt like they were folding over him, wrapping around him, sealing him alone in the forest. Panic gripped at his heart.
“Please don't leave me,” he wept, falling once again to the ground, his grazed hands on muddy knees, terrified of being abandoned, left in the forest with nothing but a dying man for company.
And then it came. Just as he was about to give up and limp back towards Warren he heard a distant bark. Another came, closer this time, and Jack found himself pushing forward once again, calling out to Boomer as she hared back towards him.
As he heard a rustle in the foliage nearby he found himself wiping the tears from his cheeks. He almost laughed out loud when he realized what he was doing, hiding his tears from a dog, but his embarrassment was forgotten as Boomer burst out of the forest and ran a circle around him, jumping excitedly.
“Come here, girl,” Jack laughed, falling to his knees and pulling her in for a hug. “Don't run off, again, OK? I think I might go a little crazy on my own.”
Boomer tried to pull away, turning her head back in the direction she'd came, but Jack pulled her back in, grabbing her by the fleshy jowls and stroking her ears. “What is it?” he asked. “Did you find something?”
Boomer wriggled from his grasp and pulled away, running once again back into the deep undergrowth, but this time she stopped just before she vanished from sight. She looked back, barking, encouraging Jack to follow.
“OK, you win, you win,” he laughed, following behind her as she led him uphill into even deeper foliage. “But if you’re just gonna show me a dead rabbit I swear I’m feeding you to the next coyote we see.”
He picked his way carefully through the trees as Boomer bounded through the undergrowth, leaping easily over rocks and roots that still caught Jack's feet, and he’d only made it two hundred yards before he found what was exciting her.
As he clambered his way up a slope the forest ahead began to open up, the moonlight reaching all the way to the ground. Everywhere else it was blocked by the thick canopy, dark and claustrophobic, but up ahead it opened out in what seemed to be a long clearing, a brightly lit path through the tripping roots and hidden rocks.
Jack pushed on to the top of the slope, picking his way between hedges and batting aside low branches, and when he finally reached the clearing he looked down at his feet and grinned.
It was a road.
“Oh, thank God for that,” he whispered to himself, dropping to his knees and running his hands over the smooth asphalt. “Good girl, Boomer,” he called out, waiting for the labrador to run back to receive the reward of a scratch behind the ears.
Jack couldn't be happier. He knew he didn’t have the strength to carry Warren any real distance, but the going would be much easier on smooth ground than the rutted, uneven woodland floor. If he could just carry him as far as the road he was sure he could make it to...
Wait.
Boomer was still agitated, running off ahead before pulling to a halt, turning back and staring at Jack as if to say Come on, let's go! It wasn't until he peered down the road ahead that he realized that the road wasn't what Boomer was trying to show him.
It was a building. Jack could just make out the straight line of a roof about two hundred yards ahead, almost hidden around the next bend in the road. At this distance he could barely make out any details, but on the open ground in front of the building he could see a couple of large objects, about as tall as a man, and as they came into focus he finally realized what they were.
Gas pumps. This must be the station Warren had spotted from the air.
“Come here, girl,” Jack called, grabbing Boomer in a bear hug as she padded back to him. He had her to thank for this entirely. There was no chance he'd have climbed this slope without her guiding the way. He'd have stayed on level ground and pushed deeper into the forest. God only knows how far he'd have walked before stumbling on civilization, if he ever did.
“Shall we go find Warren?” he asked, scratching Boomer by the slobbering chops. “You know the way back, girl?”
Boomer pulled away and rushed back into the forest, still bouncing with excitement, looking back to make sure Jack was following. He pushed back into the undergrowth, now with a little more spring in his step, occasionally giving Boomer words of encouragement as she picked her way back through the deep foliage towards her master.
He didn't know how she did it, but after just a few minutes Boomer picked her way back to Warren, trailing Jack behind her, and as he stumbled into the dimly lit glade where Warren lay he found the dog waiting patiently beside the old man, panting cheerfully with her head tilted as if to say what are you waiting for? Pick him up!
“I wish I had your energy, mutt,” Jack sighed, catching his breath. “You wanna help me carry him?”
Boomer whined, ducked her head and licked Warren's face.
“No, I thought not.” Jack dropped to his haunches and pulled Warren up by the arms, tucking his head in beside his chest. “Come on old timer,” he groaned, hauling the old man from the ground. “Not far to go now.”
Warren felt even heavier now, if that was possible. It felt as if Jack’s spine was being compressed like an accordion as he limped on through the woods, step
by painful step, but now he knew the end was in sight he knew he found he had a little more energy in reserve. Just the thought that this would soon be over was enough to will his feet to take one more step, and then another.
By the time he finally climbed the slope and felt the asphalt beneath his feet his calves ached with the strain, and his back cried out for relief, but at least he no longer had to worry about tripping over tree roots. Now his strategy became nothing more than slowly falling forward. He let Warren’s weight propel him along the road, planting one foot in front of the other just quickly enough to avoid falling to his knees. It was hardly graceful, but after five minutes it finally brought him to the forecourt of the gas station, drenched in sweat and near collapse.
The building was unlit, but it was clearly still in use. The four pumps out front were modern, and even in the moonlight it was clear that the wooden shack beside them was well cared for, quaint rather than tumbledown. Behind its plate glass window sat a row of soft toys, tins of candy and a few other local souvenirs, artfully arranged in a display beneath a hand painted sign that read Memories of Oregon.
“Hello?” Jack called out in a strained voice as he stumbled to the side of the shack. He carefully lowered Warren to the ground and rested him against the wall before stretching out his aching, trembling arms. “Anyone here?”
Silence. All he could hear was the swaying of the trees in the wind, and the creak of a wooden sign hanging on a chain above the door. Come on in! it read in a curvy handwritten script.
“Hello!” he called louder, cupping his palms around his mouth. “I need help!”
He listened again, and this time there was something other than the rustle of leaves. From somewhere on the other side of the building he heard a noise he couldn’t place, a ragged tearing sound that lasted just a second before falling silent, and then suddenly returned. It sounded like someone ripping phone books in half, and as Jack finally realized what it reminded him of he cast his eyes about in a panic, searching for something he could use as a weapon.
