The Geezer Quest: World After Geezer: Year Two

by Penn Gates

  The water only comes up to her chin, and Lisa begins to swim until she calculates she’s somewhere near the center. The water closes over her head as she allows herself to sink. In the murk of this twilight world, something she hopes is a fish nibbles at her. Below, some sort of underwater vegetation undulates gently. No! This is definitely not what she wants! She pushes herself upward and breaks the surface, sputtering and flailing towards shore.

  What was she thinking? As a city girl, she’s always been wary of natural bodies of water. God knows what lurks in them. But as a scientist, she does know. She’s seen the microscopic creatures that inhabit a tablespoon of pond water - and some of them can be downright hostile to humans.

  She wrings the water from her long hair and reminds herself to be grateful that no one witnessed her prat fall - or whatever it was. She feels icky all over, and what she can do about that she hasn’t a clue. It’s not her day on the St Clair schedule to take a shower.

  Lisa sits on the ground and begins to squeegee the water out of her sodden jeans with the flat of her hand. On the outer seam, tiny burrs cling to the denim, picked up along the path to the pond. She plucks one and examines it. Round and uniformly covered with minute spikes, it’s perfectly designed to propagate whatever weed species—

  A blinding revelation flashes along the synapses of her brain. She loses track of time as she gazes at the burr, then at the pond, and back again as she rummages through her mental library. Somewhere is the information she needs, the facts that will begin to transform inspiration into concrete answers.

  Lisa jams her feet into her boots and jumps up. She needs a jar - any sort of container will do - for a sample of the pond water. She stumbles along the path back to the farmhouse. She’s never understood the story of St Paul’s blinding revelation on the road to Damascus until now.

  She can almost feel the unseen hand guiding her.

  CHAPTER 26: Home Sweet Home

  Clutching her mason jar of murky water, Lisa makes her way from the pond once again, her nerves fizzing with a sense of urgency. It’s imperative that she examines this sample under a microscope as soon as possible. The mobile lab must still be in Hamlin. Why would they take it? They’d have no use for it - just one more thing to keep fueled. More white elephant than whale.

  No one has ever told her, in so many words, that the squad is gone, and Lisa is convinced it’s a conspiracy of kindness. They think she’s still too fragile to deal with the fact. How would they react if she asked them for a ride into town?

  The bike is just leaning there, against the far side of the machine shed. Lisa glances around quickly. She’s already late for supper, but chances are, everyone is focused on their own plates. Before she can talk herself out of it, she pushes the battered two-wheeler behind the barn and comes around to the far side of the house.

  As she walks the bike down the drive that once allowed large milk tankers access to the dairy barns, she feels a growing anxiety. This is the same ground over which she was forced to carry the gas that Cindi Lou intended for her arson project. She makes herself think of something else.

  How long has it been since she rode a bicycle? She’d learned at summer camp - a long, long time ago. They say that once you’ve acquired a skill, it never leaves you. Even if she’s a little wobbly at the beginning, her body memory will kick in. The important thing is not to fall and break her precious jar.

  Lisa settles for removing the shirt Nix lent her and wraps it around the glass, carefully tying the sleeves together. She fastens the package securely to the handle bars before guiding the bike down the rutted drive. The air is a little cool now that she has only her army issue undershirt, but she’ll get her blood pumping and warm up soon enough. Once she reaches the road, she takes a deep breath and straddles the bike. The only thing she’s really sure of is the direction she should take. Beyond that, she can only rely on landmarks.

  In less than five minutes her legs begin to ache, but she refuses to surrender to the discomfort. The road goes up an incline, and Lisa begins breathing through her mouth. She’s out of shape, and the aches and pains from the battering she took are still hurting - especially her knees. She sighs in relief as the road flattens again. If she gets to Hamlin alive, she resolves to start exercising daily. To be honest, she’s never been much for physical activities. But that was in a different life. It’s obvious the world after Geezer demands a whole range of new skills. She makes a mental list. Develop stamina. Develop strength. Learn to shoot a gun.

  She suddenly realizes nothing looks familiar. She must have taken a wrong turn while she was contemplating the future. She backtracks. One more thing for the list, she thinks wryly. Learn how to tell which direction is which without GPS. And that makes her think of the Big Dipper - and Cindi Lou. She shivers.

  You’re doing it again, she reminds herself. Focus! Okay, She recognizes that old brick schoolhouse. At some point she’d noticed that someone had used it to store hay. A little farther on she comes across the charred skeleton of a farmhouse. Yes! Back on track. The muscles of her legs are screaming in protest when Lisa catches sight of a rusted sign perforated with what look like bullet holes: Hamlin City Limits.

  I made it! I made it! she gloats, giddy with success. But by the time she stops in the center of town, she’s growing uneasy. She hears nothing - except for the creaking of the dead traffic light over her head, which is swaying restlessly in the wind. For the first time she notices that the sky is darkening with clouds.

  Her uneasiness grows as she pedals the last few hundred feet to the elementary school. She’d left in the late afternoon, giving no thought to how early darkness falls in the autumn. Her nerves are suddenly tingling. There are so many places to hide and watch in this town. She’s feeling scared by the time she leans the bike against the brick wall to one side of the school’s front doors.

  Her footsteps echo down the hall as she almost runs to the cafeteria. No surprises here. It’s empty. No men, no sleeping rolls stashed against the walls. She turns and slams out the back exit. The bus garage, too, is empty of trucks and—

  Lisa falls to her knees. No! They’ve taken The Whale! Why would they do that? Why? Unless - it could be a bargaining chip if Holden means to return it to the authorities in exchange for leniency for himself and his men.

  She starts to blubber like a baby - not now, when she’s finally got a theory she can sink her teeth into! She allows herself a few minutes to cry over the betrayal and loss. Then she mops at her face with Nix’s shirt - still wrapped around her precious jar - squares her shoulders, and goes back inside to check the teacher’s lounge. Surely they had the decency to leave her personal belongings untouched.

  But her notebooks are gone. Her few pitiful changes of clothes, a hairbrush, a toothbrush - all her things are missing. She grabs the first thing she can reach - a molded plastic chair with metal legs - and pitches it against the cinder block wall with the strength of utter rage. It ricochets and slams into its twin. One of the metal legs is knocked loose.

  She wrenches the leg from the wreckage of the chair and attacks one of the hated naugahyde couches. She stabs at the cushions with the jagged metal. It makes deep, satisfying rips.

  “What the fuck is going on?”

  Lisa pivots toward the door, ready to attack - and freezes. Holden stands there, an expression of confusion on his face.

  “That bike outside yours?” he asks.

  Lisa doesn’t acknowledge his question. She grips the chair leg, more firmly.

  He’s scowling now. “Let me get this straight. A couple of weeks after a bad concussion, you get on a damn bicycle and ride five miles over rough roads?”

  He has no right to judge her after dumping her on the St Clairs without a word of explanation! Lisa drops the metal rod in her hand. It clangs like a bell on the terrazzo floor and rolls under the couch as she launches herself at Holden.

  “Give me my notes, you bastard!” she yells as she pummels him with her fists. “And my sli
des!”

  Holden grabs her wrists in a vice-like grip. Lisa tries to twist away from him, and when that doesn’t work, she kicks at his shins.

  Somewhere in the blind fury of her emotions, a thought bleeds through. What if he’s decided to turn her in, along with the mobile lab? She renews her efforts to break free.

  “Let me go!” In spite of her anger at his betrayal, the words come out sounding more like a ragged sob.

  She feels his arms encircle her and pull her towards him. “Stop now,” he says in a whisper. “Just relax, so we can talk.”

  “You left me,” she says, her voice muffled against his chest. “And you took the lab, too. I hate you!”

  He feels her trembling against him. She’s got to be freezing in a GI-issue undershirt - but it’s more than that. What was so important that she took the risk of finding her way to Hamlin this late in the afternoon? I should have worked faster, he thinks, to get her back where she belongs.

  He holds her at arm’s length. “You’re coming with me - there’s something you need to see.”

  Lisa looks terrified. She shakes her head vehemently. “I’m not going anywhere with you!”

  “You don’t have a choice. You can’t stay here. It’s gonna be dark soon.” He leads her toward the door.

  “Wait!” she cries. “I need my pond water!”

  For the first time, Holden wonders if it wasn’t just a concussion. She took more than one blow to the head. His stomach knots. Not brain damage, he thinks. That would kill her. He releases her arm and watches her warily as she retrieves something wrapped in what looks like a flannel shirt from the window sill.

  “Maybe you better put that shirt on now,” he suggests. “It’s getting chilly.”

  He’s surprised she takes his suggestion without arguing, but she clutches the glass jar that was hidden inside its folds with both hands.

  Lisa allows herself to be hustled down the hallway to the double doors. One of the big Army vehicles is sitting at the curb. The camouflage canvas has been removed and the back is stacked with logs.

  “Jones and Peterson are out there,” Holden says in a low voice. “Do you really want to act bat shit crazy in front of them?”

  Her head hurts, making it hard to think. The two privates look much like Holden does - smudged and sweaty, with sawdust in their hair. “Don’t worry about me,” she mutters.

  “Hey, Peterson,” Holden calls. “Grab that bike over there and throw it in the back. Somebody’s gonna miss it, sooner or later.”

  He guides Lisa firmly to the truck. “Get in.”

  In little more than a minute Holden downshifts and backs the truck up the driveway of a modest house in what had once been a pleasant old neighborhood. Most of the homes are obscured by overgrown shrubbery now. Wild vines have started to creep up chimneys and tug at loose gutters.

  When Holden turns off the engine, he glances at Lisa, sitting motionless and staring out the windshield. She’s still got a stranglehold on her precious jar. “Go on - get out. We’re here.”

  “It wouldn’t kill you to be polite,” she whispers.

  “Right - because a gentleman is always polite to a lady who’s just accused him of being a thief,” Holden says wearily.

  When Lisa doesn’t move, he says, “Suit yourself,” and climbs down from the truck.

  Lisa discovers she can see what’s going on behind the truck by means of the large rear view mirror. Most of the squad is back there, pointing in her direction. She hears someone shout, “Hey! The doc is back!” The group starts a ragged movement forward.

  “Hold up!” Holden orders. “Get the wood unloaded before it gets too dark to see.”

  One by one, they grab chunks of wood from the truck and carry them to a stack of firewood running along the side of a garage.

  Holden grabs a flashlight from the truck. “All right, doc - you come with me.”

  Lisa trails after him, still clutching her jar, as he walks down the driveway. The sidewalk is as old as most of the houses. It’s made of slabs of sandstone, uneven and cracked where tree roots are shoving civilization aside, little by little. She stumbles and almost drops her precious jar.

  She squints at Holden in the twilight. He’s already headed up the drive of the house next door. Even in near darkness and her own distress, Lisa can see that the house in front of her is a large Queen Anne, with a two-story turret on one side.

  “You need to take a look in the back yard,” Holden calls to her. He points the beam of light beyond the house.

  “It’s The Whale!” Lisa breathes - and breaks into tears. “Thank God,” she blubbers. She takes a few steps forward, holding the jar in front of her like a sacred chalice. Even exhausted and disoriented, her pulse pounds with excitement. This could be the first look at salvation.

  “You want to go to your lab now?” he asks incredulously.

  Yes! Lisa thinks. Of course I do! But what if I’m wrong, and the only thing in this jar is dirty water? I don’t think I have the strength to handle that right now.

  “I’ll wait until tomorrow when I’m rested,” she mumbles.

  She can barely manage the steps up to the large, covered porch of the Queen Anne. Holden opens the door and stands to one side to let her pass - but Lisa isn’t so sure she wants to be the first one into a dark, deserted house.

  “How about you just follow me?” he suggests.

  Steeling herself, Lisa half stumbles onto the hexagonal tiles of the foyer. Holden shines the beam of light at the impressive stairway across from them. At first Lisa thinks she’s seeing things again. Atop the carved newel post, a small bronze figure holds aloft a torch crowned with a frosted glass globe. The folds of her garment almost seem to flutter in an invisible breeze.

  “Check this out,” Holden says. He removes the globe and lights what appears to be an oil lamp.

  Lisa feels disoriented. Why are they here? What’s supposed to happen next?

  Holden begins to climb the wide stairs and Lisa follows him. At the top, he keeps on going down a long hall toward the front of the house. The tower room is larger than it looks from outside, with its semi-circular wall of tall windows. There’s only blackness on the other side of the glass at the moment, but she can almost imagine the leafy branches of the old maples in front of the house.

  “It’ll be like sitting in a treehouse during the day,” Holden ventures.“Thought it might make a good study.”

  “W-what?” Lisa falters.

  Holden points at the desk sitting in the center of the room. It’s stacked with notebooks. “There’s your stolen property, safe and sound.”

  Lisa turns from the evidence of her unjustified accusation. Nothing is really making any sense to her.

  “There’s more,” Holden says. “Come see.”

  When Holden shines the flashlight into the room at the other end of the hall, the corner of a bed is just visible. “Wait a sec - l’ll get a little more light in here.”

  The wick of a candle ignites, wavers, and steadies into a soft glow. “A real, honest-to-God bed to sleep in again,” Holden says, smiling. “This is your house.”

  “And you’re not going to take The Whale when you leave?”

  “What the fuck, Lisa?” Holden explodes. “How did you come to the conclusion that I’m trying to screw you over?” He runs his hand over his short hair. “Just tell me that - so I can stop doing whatever it is—”

  Why do I think this over-responsible guy would kick me to the curb? She can’t remember. A tidal wave of exhaustion hits and threatens to sweep her away.

  Holden steadies her and leads her to the bed. “Sit - before you fall down. You gotta be running on empty after your marathon bike ride.”

  “My clothes are dirty - I fell in the pond. I’ll mess up the comforter.” She looks like a little kid who thinks she’s about to be punished.

  “That’s easy to fix,” he says reassuringly. “That door over there leads to the bathroom. You get those fishy duds off while I have
one of the guys help me bring up some hot water for the tub.”

  He pauses in the doorway, just to make sure she’s not going to pass out. “Knock when you’re ready and we’ll clear out.”

  LISA IS FLOATING IN candlelight. She feels a kind of distant awe at how soft and warm light can be. The place in her mind that still fights to keep tight control seems to be melting in that warmth, allowing her physical body to take over. It remembers Ed’s arms holding her tightly as she struggled against him, and a fire ignites somewhere deep inside. There’s nothing her body wants more in this world than to melt into him. She’s so filled with the need for him she can hardly breathe. She starts to call his name - and thrashes in panic, struggling for air. She’s under water and she can’t find her way to the surface. She gropes for the side of the tub, her fingers sliding off the wet porcelain.

  The door bursts open. “Jesus, Lisa - are you okay?”

  Holden doesn’t wait for an answer before rushing into the bathroom. He falls to his knees and grabs her as her head begins to slide beneath the water.

  “Ed,” she gasps. “Ed, you came.” She throws her arms round his neck and he lifts her from the tub. She buries her face against his shoulder and clings to him.

  Until this moment his only focus has been to keep her from drowning, but now the full effect of her wet body, naked in his arms, makes him buckle at the knees. He staggers and grabs for the towel bar to stay upright, and the large bath towel he’d hung there falls to the floor.

  “Never mind,” he whispers. “Let’s get you out of here.” He carries her through to the bedroom and lowers her body gently onto the bed. “I’ll get you something to put on,” he says, tearing his gaze away.