by Matthew Fish
I hand her a bottle of water and she drinks almost the entire thing at once. I take her suitcase from the backseat and place it in the trunk of the car. I open up the back door and help her climb in.
“I want to stay up with you…” She says groggily.
“You haven’t been sleeping well,” I say as I help her in. She curls up into a ball and I get the emergency blanket from the glove box and cover her up. “You get some rest.”
“You get some rest…” she murmurs.
I climb back into the driver’s seat and glance behind me. She is fast asleep. I take a look at the map on my left and put the car back into drive. The tiny solar panels lower against the hood appearing as two black stripes against the speckled red paint. As I begin to navigate the old road, I speak to the car.
“Dashboard, news… low volume…”
“Local or national?” the female voice asks.
“Local first…”
“A small translucent image appears near the map, a man is standing outside of my apartment. It seems I’m still news… Ethan Chase is considered to be somewhere in the city, the public is advised to report him and contact the police—do not attempt to engage him in any way as his considered to be armed and extremely dangerous. A cache of bullets and a weapon was found at the Aggro’s residence. The Unstable that he is currently with is also considered extremely dangerous as she is reported to be off of her Calm due to neglect on the former Sitter’s part. It is believed that he will attempt to return. A C-Shapes Field Office representative named Katharine Young encourages him to return to the apartment unarmed so that they may work out a peaceful ending to this already tragic situation…”
“National…” I whisper, having heard enough.
“Today the President called out for an end to the riots in Los Angeles, stating that we just need to be patient as a cure is less than a year away, that we need to put aside our differences and realize that mistakes can be made. Currently it is rumored that numerous Aggros are on the loose and both the police and Hunters are too busy fending off attacks from angry armed citizens to engage and put down the Aggro threat. The President threatens that if the conflict cannot be reached peacefully that in due time military action will be enacted.”
“In Belize, the government is demanding that the next round of medication and the cure be provided for free or else they will allow their militia to start executing Unstables until their demands are met…”
“That’s enough…” I say as I shake my head. The world is going to hell and I’m somehow supposed to help. I can barely take care of myself and Cherie.
“Music…?”
“What mood?” The female asks.
“Hopefully optimistic…”
“Playing all songs about hopefully optimistic,” the car replies as music begins to softly play from the speakers inside of the circular headrest. I relax my head into its memory foam confines and begin the long drive.
It is evening when I reach the Illinois-Missouri border. An old brown sign reads ‘Welcome to Missouri.’ However, someone has cleverly spray painted over the white lettering in black and it reads ‘Welcome to Misery.”
After driving a short distance I take an off road and down a wooded path. The road here is in even worse condition as I have to dodge broken pieces of the surrounding bluffs. I find a small clearing and pull the car into the opening. I exit the car, armed with my flashlight, and get two bagged meals from the trunk. I peel the top open and find that it already comes with a spoon already sealed in the metal packaging. I leave the flashlight on as I reach into the backseat and give Cherie a gentle shake.
“Where are we…?”
“Missouri,” I say as I hand her the bag of food.
“What is it?” She asks as she curiously peers into the bag.
I peel my bag open and retrieve the plastic fork. I poke at the contents and retrieve a long square noodle covered in white sauce. “Some kind of pasta…”
“I’ve never had dinner in a bag,” Cherie says as she places her for into the meal. She places a noodle in her mouth and chews it slowly. “It’s warm…”
“Yeah,” I say as I feel the bottom of the bag which feels almost hot to the touch. “It must be some kind of reaction that happens when you open it.”
“Have you been driving all day?” Cherie asks as she hands me her empty bag.
I place both of our bags into the waste bin and they disappear. I imagine that they are getting sucked into the trunk and placed into a bag from the whooshing sound I hear. That or it’s getting shot into the road… however, that doesn’t sound very environment friendly. “Yeah, longest I’ve driven in… as long as I can remember.”
“Can I come back up front?”
“Sure…”
Cherie climbs over the center console and crawls into the passenger seat. I turn off the flashlight and our eyes slowly adjust to the darkness.
“Seats back,” Cherie says as both the passenger and driver seats lower back into a resting position. “Ceiling view,” she adds as the black roof slowly fades away showing the tall trees overhead. Some stars are peeking through as the wind slowly drifts through.
“How did you know to do that?” I ask, I barely remember the basic commands.
“I used to have a nice car,” Cherie says as she looks up to the sky. “There are a lot of stars here… I bet Noah would be happy.”
“I’m sure he would be,” I say as I turn to Cherie. In the faint darkness I can make out that she is smiling. I thought it would be difficult for me to have to break it to her that we’d have to stay the night here—but she seems perfectly content.
“Headrests flat… seats closer.” Cherie says as the circular headrests flatten out. The seats move back, and once clear of the console, they come together. Cherie pulls the blanket from the back and covers us both up. She cuddles up next to me as we spend some time looking up at the stars. “This is better than Paris.”
“You think so?” I ask as I place an arm around her.
“A little bit better…” She whispers as she laughs softly.
I stare up sat the swaying braches. As I catch glimpses of the stars overhead, I realize that I have not seen the stars like this since I was younger… since before V-Day. Then again, I haven’t been in this kind of situation since I was a kid camping out in my backyard. Even though I know those innocent days are long gone now, it is a comfort to me that these kinds of moments are still possible… the virus might have taken a lot away from us, but it couldn’t take everything… it couldn’t taint moments like this one. I look over at Cherie, whose warmth I can feel against me, she is not looking at the stars. Instead, her eyes are fixed on me. She looks a little worried; her eyes show that familiar hint of sadness.
“Are you alright?” I ask.
She nods once and smiles.
Her eyes still look sad, however I nod in return. She turns to face me and places her lips against mine. She kisses me once more and then pauses, “This is allowed right? You’re not working?”
Of course this is not technically allowed—I know for certainty that it is illegal. However, I am a man on the run, so I suppose that ultimately… it does not really matter. I like her. What else matters? “This is allowed…”
She places her hands against my face and begins to kiss me more passionately. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tightly against me. There is not a single amount of fear within me. This is the only thing that feels right anymore. Her, us—this moment… this situation is unavoidable. She begins run her hand across my chest, unbuttoning each button until her warm hand is against my chest. Our breathing intensifies as we slowly undress each other beneath then thin emergency blanket. Soon our naked bodies are against each other, the heat and need within me for us to be together is becoming unbearable. She pivots so that I am atop her. I take in a nervous breath as I feel myself slide into her. She bites her lip and whimpers softly. She pulls my face close to meet hers and we begin to kiss feverishly as we rhythmi
cally move our bodies against each other. I am the sea to her shoreline; each movement is like a wave, an ebb and flow, until with one final push the largest wave crashes. Like a surge I am spent and retreat back from the warmth of her shore.
I continue to hold onto her through the night. I know what we did is considered wrong by society’s standards. I, however, cannot bring myself to feel the slightest bit of regret for allowing it to happen.
“I want you to know,” Cherie says sleepily. “You mean a lot to me… more than Paris.”
“You mean a lot to me as well,” I say as I squeeze her hand comfortingly.
“I’m happy that it ends like this,” Cherie whispers.
“This isn’t the ending,” I say as I kiss the back of her neck. “This is just the beginning.”
Cherie does not answer, she is fast asleep. I often wonder how someone can just fall comfortably into sleep so easily. It always takes me a while—I realize that this will be my first night without my city noise machine… as I attempt to relax I take comfort in the gentle sound of her breathing against me. Between the exhaustion of the drive, and my first time being intimate with Cherie, I eventually drift off into that strange abyss called sleep.
I awake to the sounds of birds chirping. The sky is a soft red, it still must be early. The roof above me is black once more—I reach over for Cherie, but she is not there. In a panic I get up, hitting my head against the ceiling of the car. I look over and find a small piece of paper. I reach for it and quickly unfold it; it simply reads ‘I do not want to hurt you Ethan.’
“Fuck!” I shout as I toss the blanket to the back of the car and attempt to dress myself as swiftly as I can. How did she leave without me knowing or waking up? I knew that something was off last night—I should have pushed more… how could I have been so stupid? As I button up my shirt I take out the glasses… the Hunters use these, they must have some kind of other functions rather than just acknowledging who is an Unstable or a normal… “What time did the passenger leave?”
“The passenger door was opened two hours, fifty three minutes, and twenty-one seconds ago. The trunk was accessed four minutes later,” the female voice answers in reply. “Seats up,” I say as I try and reach for the door—with Cherie being much shorter this must have been much easier for her.
“Seats must be separated first, should I separate the seats?”
“Yes,” I say with a healthy tone of frustration. I wait impatiently as the seats separate apart and slide back into their former positions. I pull out the handgun from my pocket, I tinker with it for a moment until I figure out how to release the clip—it is loaded. I slide the clip back into the gun and head out the door. I place the black rimmed glasses on and attempt to locate some kind of on switch. I find a tiny strip of metal along the right side. As I run my finger down it, it changes to ‘Identify mode.’ I give it another slide and a ‘news mode’ pops up with a window over my left eye—finding myself getting nowhere I give it one more slide, hoping that it has a more useful function. I thank Noah’s spirit when ‘tracking’ comes up. As I look into the woods everything is slowly gridded off into tiny white squares. A red marker indicates a spot on the ground and the word ‘indentation’ pops up. I begin to follow. I look ahead and see a series of red markers running off into the distance. I begin to run, following the path as each footstep begins to light up. I make it a short distance further, the display switches to ‘identify’ mode as it spots someone in the area—as I walk up to a tall oak tree, an image of someone behind it begins to flash. At first it is blue and reads ‘normal,’ then flashes orange and reads ‘Unstable.’ It is almost as though the glasses are going haywire in an attempt to identify the subject. I slide them once, turning them off. I place them back in my pocket as I quietly round the massive trunk of the tall oak. Sitting there, crying—I find Cherie.
“I couldn’t make it very far,” Cherie says as she rocks back and forth. “I tried.”
“What are you doing out here?” I ask as I reach down and place my hand against her cheek. She feels cold to the touch. It is a chilly morning. “Why did you leave?”
“I’m dangerous,” Cherie says as she continues to rock back and forth with her legs pressed against her chest. “I might hurt you one day—I might kill you.”
“I don’t… I don’t care about that.” I say as I attempt to get her up.
“I care about you!” Cherie says loudly as she pushes me away.
“Nobody knows for certain about what our fates will be, nobody knows,” I say as I kneel down beside her. “Anything is possible, we just have to try—and whatever happens… well it happens. I’d rather die trying to protect you, or being with you, than being without you. I need you with me.”
“You need me?”
“I have no purpose without you… I’m your caretaker.”
“I’m your caretaker…”
“You’re having an anxiety attack—I’m going to carry you back to the car. What did you take from the trunk?” I say as I take her into my arms.
“Anxiety attack…” Cherie repeats as she points down to the ground. A single, empty bottle of water sits against the side of the tree.
“How did you plan on surviving out here with just that…” I begin to ask. Then I realize the sad truth—she didn’t plan on surviving. “Let’s get you back.”
“Let’s get you back…”
As we get back into the car I help her into the passenger seat. “Are you alright up front—or do you want to be in the back?”
“I want to be by you,” Cherie says as she looks down to the ground.
“Alright,” I say as I shut the door and enter the driver’s side.
“I am sorry I cause you so much trouble…” Cherie says as she continues to keep her gaze down to the floor
“You aren’t any trouble at all,” I say as I place my hand on her shoulder. I lean over and kiss her on the cheek. I reach in the back and grab the blanket and cover her up with it. She has been out in the cold for far too long. “Just promise me that you won’t do anything like that again—I do really need you. I can’t do any of this without you.”
“I promise,” Cherie says as she looks to me and nods. Some of the sadness has washed away from her face as she curls up in the seat and covers herself up in the blanket. “I just… I don’t want you to die.”
“I don’t want you to die either, running off in the woods like that. If we go, we go together. That’s just how it is going to be, alright?”
“Will we be together afterwards?”
“Yeah…” I say. I’ve never been very religious. Most people aren’t after V-Day… not after everything they have seen or been through. There are still some who believe that we haven’t been abandoned, but they are very few. “I’m sure we will.”
I place the keys into the ignition. “Map up… resume route.”
I get the car back onto the road and begin our trek once more. The terrain here is rougher; however it gives me a greater feeling of safety. There are no wide open spaces, instead large rolling hills surrounded by trees. As I reach a long stretch of straight road, I spot a truck on the road. I do no decrease my speed or do anything that might seem suspicious; instead I reach for my gun with one hand. I’m forced to slow down as I near the old blue truck as we pass each other. My hand is trembling against the steering wheel.
“Are we not safe?” Cherie asks as she notices the vehicle.
“I don’t think it’s anything to worry about,” I say, although I am not sure exactly which of us I am attempting to reassure.
As we pass an old man in a brown hat wearing a white shirt and overalls gives me a glance. I nod at him, and he tips his hat at me and is on his way. I notice that the back of his truck is full of farm equipment.
“Just a farmer…” I say with a contented sigh as I slide the handgun back into my pocket.
“Just a farmer…”
I continue to follow the map until it reaches a little past noon. I pull the car in
to a small opening that overlooks a large cornfield besieged on all sides by tall hills and trees. I put the car in park and take out the keys. I watch as the solar panels seek out the sun like a field of hundreds of sunflowers. I take out some food from the glove box and attempt to hand it to Cherie.
“I’m not hungry,” Cherie says as she pushes away the food. “Just thirsty…”
I reach for a bottle of water and hand it to her; she drinks it all at once. “Are you alright?”
“You have to keep up the sea inside… or everything will dry up—all the starfish will die,” Cherie says, completely out of character.
I reach over and place the back of my head against her forehead. She is burning up. “You’ve got a fever.”
“You’ve got a fever,” Cherie says in a sarcastic tone.
I pull her blanket away, much to her dismay, and turn on the air conditioning.
“Too cold, you’ll freeze the surface.”
I go to the back of the car and pull out the backpack. I search its contents and find a bottle of Ibuprofen. I take two pills out and return to my seat. “Take these,” I say as I pull another bottle of water from the container.
“You said no pills… no more stars.”
“These are for your fever,” I say as I place the bottle of water in her hand.
She places the pills on her tongue and takes a drink of the water, she then opens up her mouth and extends her tongue out. “Good?”
“Get some rest…” I say as I shake my head. I need to get her to a place where she can rest for a while—being stuck in this car probably isn’t doing her any good. “GPS, how many hours do we have left?”
“You currently have approximately fourteen hours of driving time on our current route.”
“Fuck…” I mutter. That will not do at all.
“Are there any alternate routes?”
“If we take 24 West we can reach our destination in six hours,” the female voice answers back.
“The traffic…?”
“Very minimal…”
“Route it,” I say as I let out a heavy sigh. I look over and see Cherie shivering as the slight noise of her teeth chattering can be heard.
