Yes. I will.
I could barely choke out the words; my throat constricted, and my chest felt like it was imploding.
Good.
She smiled then, and peace filled her eyes and her beautiful face. She seemed calm and serene like old Mr. Westcott had when they found him dead in his easy chair back in the apartment building. That seemed so long ago, an entirely different lifetime. She seemed to be sleeping for a long time but after a while, she opened her eyes and looked up at me. The love and sadness that radiated from her eyes reminded me of the look that my mom gave me when she opened the watch fob I had given her for Christmas. It was like my life was flashing by in front of my eyes, like I was the one dying instead of everyone I remembered. Then as I watched, the color drained from her face, and her eyes slowly glazed over, a dull grey curtain closing over the gorgeous Caribbean blue. I could tell that her soul was leaving her body then. She died staring up at the lifeless grey sky.
—Sara, no! Don’t leave me, Sara! Please! Please… please…
My panicked words faded into sobs, and I sat holding and rocking her for a long time while I cried. I reached in my pocket, thinking about Sara’s pocketful of tears, and pulled out Mom’s watch fob, still frozen at 11:47 a.m., November 1st. I held it to my heart and screamed at the grey sky, with angry tears spilling down my frozen cheeks. I cried for Sara, I cried for Mom, I cried for Dad, and most of all, I cried for me. Because I was the one left with endless Time stretching before me, Time with no purpose, no happiness, and no one left to love. I cried until I used up all the tears in my pocket and in Sara’s pocket too.
After that, I think I fell in a trance or something, not seeing anything even though my eyes were open, my mind a blank. I must have been there for several hours because when I finally came to, abruptly and cruelly, the sun was starting to set behind the grey bones of the buildings to the west. Even the sunset appeared to me in black and white, as if all the colors had been sucked out of the world with Sara’s passing.
Suddenly, I looked around me with perfect clarity. My mind felt razor sharp as I took in the scene around me. I could see each dirty grey snow crystal and the ridges of bark on the naked grey tree beside me. I looked down at my lap. Sara’s once beautiful but now lifeless grey eyes stared up at me, her skin a lighter shade of grey. The blood pooled around her almost black and gel-like in the cold, the wounds on her body through her shirt—unmistakably knife wounds. The words of Sara’s song played in my head, the part about her short life being severed by a sharp knife…
Strewn around her feet were the 100-dollar bills—the Benjamins—she had carried in her pocket for more than a year. They looked grey instead of green. I understood instantly what she had been trying to tell me all along about my dad and his relentless pursuit of money and how, in the end, it was all worthless—worthless and dirty. Money had been worthless to Sara trying to save her life; it was worthless to Mom who had only wanted Dad to spend time with her; it was worthless to Dad, whose grey ashes were mixed in the destruction here somewhere; it was worthless blowing around here downtown like so much trash.
And I knew. I knew what Sara had been saying all along about things not being as they appear. The breakup of my family was never Mom’s fault, or even Lyle’s. Maybe not even Dad’s. It just happened. Dad loved money and me, and Mom loved Lyle and me. And it wasn’t Time’s fault; it was just life. Life happens, bad things happen to everyone, and it is up to each of us to seek truth and happiness and love, no matter what happens. I felt something heavy lift from my body as I opened the treasure chest of memories in my mind and let loose all the old feelings I’d buried for so long. I wasn’t happy—far from it—but I was at peace with my past at last.
I watched the sun set as more words from Sara’s song ran through my mind, about her thoughts being worth so much more than a penny after she’s gone and how people only listen to you after you’re dead.
Chapter 25
Dying
I was at peace with my past but I didn’t care at all anymore about my future. Without Sara, there was no reason to live at all. Had she actually been in my life or had I just imagined her? Had she been an angel sent to help me deal with my past sorrows and forgive my parents? If so, she had succeeded in that regard, but had ripped open a new wound of pain and loneliness in my soul. I wished with all the broken, shriveled up pieces of my heart that I could die, to be with all the people I loved. Survival, which had been of the utmost importance in my life for the past year, now held no interest for me.
As I sat there on the sidewalk in the snow, cradling Sara’s head in my lap, I detachedly considered what I should do next. I remembered the river and my longing to fall headlong into its numbing embrace, but I didn’t want to leave Sara’s body alone on the street and I didn’t have the strength to carry her with me all the way to the river. I also thought about just sitting there, waiting for Sara’s murderer to come back and put me out of my misery like a stray dog that’s seen too much abuse in its life.
It was dark by then, and I started to think about the nocturnal animals that might start to feed off her. I remembered she hated that everyone always wanted a piece of her—even in death, she would not be left alone—so I half carried, half dragged her body into the nearest ruined building. It had been over 24 hours since I had slept and at least 18 since I had eaten, so I was feeling quite weak. Plus, all the anxiety, adrenalin, and anguish of the past two days had taken its toll on both my body and my mind. I didn’t care, though; in fact, I didn’t feel anything. I was numb. I knew I should be feeling anger toward the person who killed Sara, maybe plotting some kind of revenge, but I just couldn’t bring myself to care. That sounds callous, but at that point I was just ready to die, so nothing mattered anymore.
I laid Sara’s body on the soot-covered tile floor of the remains of the building. The first floor ceiling covered a large enough space that I was able to find a dry spot for us. I lay down beside her and drifted off to sleep, hoping beyond hope that I would never wake up again.
Sometime during the night, I heard voices, but I couldn’t force myself to open my eyes. I really didn’t care who it was or what they were doing there, but at one point, a voice shouted, sounding very near to me.
—Hey Matthew! I found her!
The footsteps of several people came near, and I tried to force myself to wake up to confront them so they’d kill me, but I just couldn’t muster the energy. Instead, I strained to focus on what they were saying and to will them to notice I was still alive.
—Is she dead?
—Yeah, I think so.
—Why’d you have to kill her, Grub?
—I didn’t do it; Zack did.
—Zack, you asshole! I told you I could reason with her. You didn’t have to kill her!
Matthew sounded genuinely upset. Like he’d really loved his sister after all. Zack, however, answered flippantly, like he couldn’t have cared less.
—Sorry, man. She fought me.
Another voice quickly chimed in, sounding excited.
—How about the boy? He’s alive. Ya want me to off him? Just in case…
Matthew sounded annoyed when he answered.
—No. Just leave ‘em alone. Let’s just get out of here, okay?
I listened dully as the voices faded with their footsteps. I decided that if they wouldn’t kill me then I’d just lay there until I died. Maybe Time would be kind to me for once and let death come quickly. Of course, it wasn’t.
I don’t know how many hours or days passed, but I could feel my body shrinking and shriveling up. Or maybe it was just my imagination, my dreams, that had me dissolving into an insignificant speck. I knew no one was left to remember me or even care that I died; I was but one of millions of innocent souls who had lost their lives to the sun’s wrath. Maybe I wasn’t so innocent, though. I was wracked with guilt for all the times I was a coward, all the times I turned my back on the people I loved and blamed them for my shortcomings. I begged God for forgiv
eness and understanding. I was just a kid; did that even matter?
One morning a brilliant light shined in my eyes, forcing me to squint even as my eyes remained close. I tried to ignore the light, but it wouldn’t let up and I was forced to shift my position. Pain shot through my arm as pins and needles relentlessly stuck my hand. Involuntarily, I sat up in agony, every muscle and bone in my body screaming at me for moving them out of their stupor. I realized that I had been lying for too long in one place. I hadn’t died like I’d hoped, and my body told me in no uncertain terms that it was, indeed, still alive.
As I pried my eyes open, a hazy scene came into view and if it weren’t for the pain, I’d have thought I was still dreaming. Directly in front of me was a small fire, like a campfire, but made in the basket of a shopping cart, and next to it stood a man. I blinked several times to clear the grit out of my eyes and the man came into focus. He was a young man, maybe in his early twenties, with a scraggly blond beard and torn, dirty jeans. He wore a bright blue nylon parka, which he carefully kept back from the flames. I must have made a sound because he immediately looked over at me with a startled look, and then a smile broke over his face, making it clear up into his kind, light blue eyes.
—Hey guys! Look who’s awake!
Two other young men, looking to be about the same age as the first, quickly came into focus, bending down to look into my face. The one with curly brown hair spoke to me.
—Hey, buddy. How are you feeling? We weren’t sure you were going to make it.
I wanted to tell him that was my plan, but my mouth was so dry nothing would come out, so instead I just lay back down and rolled over to my other side. There was some movement and whispering behind me and soon I was gently rolled to my back. Someone sat behind me and laid my head on his lap while the other tried to get me to drink something. I was too weak to resist.
—Here, buddy. Drink this.
I didn’t like him calling me buddy. I wasn’t his buddy and I wanted nothing to do with the spoonful of warm liquid he was forcing in between my lips. Again, I was too weak to resist, and I choked a little before I could swallow what tasted like a watered-down broth. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, however, even when I turned my head to the side. He just pulled my head back around started feeding me again. After a while, my stomach woke up and started grumbling. I groaned and slowly, painfully shook my head no.
—Come on, buddy. You have to drink it. You need to get your strength back.
My throat was finally wet enough for me to croak out a response.
—I don’t want strength. I want to die. Leave me alone.
The first guy, the blond one, knelt next to me.
—Now, we can’t just let you die, kid.
The one holding my head in his lap agreed.
—Yeah, you remind me of my little brother. I hope someone is taking care of him back home.
Suddenly I remembered why I was there and I sat bolt upright, ignoring the intense pain in my head and body. I frantically looked around for Sara, but she wasn’t there; had this all been some terrible dream?
—Where’s Sara? What’d you do with her?
My voice sounded panicked and shrill; the sound was strange to my ears. The guys looked at each other before “Blondie” responded quietly, sadly.
—It’s okay, kid. We took care of her.
—What? What’d you do with her?
—We buried her. Said a prayer over her. She deserved to be taken care of; we couldn’t just leave her out for the animals to get at her.
It took a few moments for my mind to comprehend what he’d said, but when I did, I finally slumped back down onto “Big Brother’s” lap. “Curly” resumed spooning the broth into my mouth but I just let it drool out the sides and stared listlessly ahead. Sara was truly gone. And I was still here. The cruelness of the situation hit me then, and tears sprang to my eyes. I didn’t bother trying to stop them or wipe them away but, rather, just closed my eyes tightly and let the tears flow down the sides of my face. I didn’t even wipe my nose when it started to leak too, partly from the crying and partly because of the cold. Big Brother held my head and stroked my hair, whispering to me.
—It’s okay, bro. Just let it out. We’re going to take care of you. It’ll be alright.
Blondie and Curly got up and went back to the fire, busying themselves with something to let me have some space. After a while, I couldn’t cry anymore and I tried to go back to sleep. Big Brother slid out from under me and placed some kind of pillow under my head. And I slept.
Chapter 26
Life After
I awoke sometime in the lateafternoon. I sat up slowly, remembering my sore body this time. I was still by the fire, but no one else was around. Slowly, I took in my surroundings. I was no longer in the building where I had lain with Sara. This building was burnt out as well, but three sides were still intact, complete with windows and doors, as well as the ceiling above me. The only open side faced east apparently, as the sun was shining in the windows on the opposite side. The fire in the shopping cart burned near the edge of the ceiling on the east side, its smoke blackening the high ceiling a bit before it made its way out the opening.
I was lying on the floor, which was carpeted with a dirty institutionally-patterned rug, and covered by a thick quilt, its bright colors smudged with soot and stains. Behind my head was a rolled up shirt or jacket of some sort. I carefully, painfully, stood up and looked down at my clothes in disgust. They were filthy, and I smelled like the lost souls had in the police van. I winced, the memories of that night and the next morning smacking me in the face and taking my breath away.
Despite the warm sunshine hitting my back through the windows and the fire in front of me, I shivered and moved closer to the fire. Just then, Big Brother came in carrying a load of busted up boards, which he dropped close to the fire. For the first time, I got a good look at him. He was a huge bear-like young man with a thick dark beard and unruly dark hair. His clothes were torn and dirty, just like Blondie’s. He wore only a flannel shirt over his jeans.
When he saw me, he looked genuinely pleased and he welcomed me back to the living with a huge smile.
—Hey, look who’s up! How’re you feeling, bro?
I tried to smile back and shrugged.
—What’s your name, bro?
I didn’t feel like talking, but I really didn’t like the nicknames these guys were calling me so I squeaked out my name.
—Glad to meet you, Ben. My name’s Dakota. Just make yourself comfortable. We don’t have much, but whatever we have is yours to share.
I nodded at him, happy to be able to call him something other than Big Brother. I tried not to let my guard down, but Dakota’s manner was so kind and unassuming, I couldn’t help but warm up to him a little. His gentle comfort while I had cried had made an impression on me as well, and I found myself smiling weakly at him despite my resolve never again to make a personal connection with anybody else.
—Doug and Matt are out looking for some food. We’ll probably have some more rat stew for dinner. It’s their specialty.
Dakota winked and chuckled, and then began stacking the wood, much of which looked like busted-up furniture, on the bottom rack of the shopping cart and stoking the fire inside the basket, presumably to get it ready to cook the delicacy of the day. My stomach grumbled, and even though I had been intent on starving myself to death, I looked forward to the food. I was sickened again by my cowardice; I couldn’t even die or starve myself to death when I wanted to. Everyone important in my life had died a heroic death: my dad giving me his food so I would survive; Mom taking care of a sick child; Sara standing up to a murderer. Why couldn’t I just refuse to eat, let go of life, and join them?
Before long, Doug and Matt entered the building, laughing and joking. It had been so long since I had heard anyone enjoying life that it sounded alien to my ears. The blond-haired one, which I later found out was Doug, was carrying two fat, dead rats by the tail in o
ne hand while the other hand was holding something behind his back. When he saw me standing by the fire, he grinned and exclaimed,
—Hey! This is cause for a celebration! Good thing I caught this for our dinner.
He pulled a large brown rabbit from behind his back and held it up like it was a prize catch. Well, maybe it was for them. Sara and I had eaten rather well all summer living in the park, but these guys had probably been living in the city proper all this time and had had to make do with whatever little rodents and birds they could find.
The curly-haired guy was named Matt and he had a prize to share as well. In his coat pockets, he had stashed several dandelion plants, which had somehow not only survived in the snow, but had thrived with the extra moisture. Dakota and Doug began dressing the animals while Matt melted snow in a pot set on some kind of grate placed over the top of the shopping cart. He washed the plants in the pot, then threw the water out and melted fresh snow. When the water was boiling, Dakota tossed in cut-up chunks of meat and dandelion. After a half hour or so, the stew was done, and Dakota let me eat the first helping from his own bowl and spoon. I was touched again by his kindness.
After we had all eaten our fill, we sat around the fire and the guys told me their story. Somehow they knew not to ask me about mine yet; it was still too raw and painful. Maybe it always would be.
The three had been electrical engineering students at UMKC. They had lived in the dorms until shortly after PF Day when the university had been forced to kick them out. All three were from different parts of the country. They had stayed in Kansas City, living with friends until the power was back on, and then waited around to re-enroll at the university. After the power went out again, they decided to walk to Doug’s home in Omaha in the spring, as it was the closest. Until then, they had been living in the buildings downtown, moving every now and then to avoid gangs and the police. They were all very eager for me to accompany them to Omaha, especially Doug.
Teenage Survivalist Series [Books 1-3] Page 27
