“We know how to fix that, Howie. There’s no reason to stay here. We’re going!” I resisted the urge to stomp my foot. “Cape Canaveral isn’t far from here, a week or so at the worst.” I forced my panting chest to slow. “How many more signs do you need?”
“That’s not a sign, Synta. That’s coincidence. A sign would be that I, the person who promised to take care of you, thinks this is a dangerous and stupid idea!”
“Then pack a bag and take care of us. On the road.” I stuffed the same items from our earlier fight into the backpack, as Howie ripped them back out. “There’s no food left. Brooks will starve. At least on the new planet —”
“There is food! I just brought you a rabbit!”
“That was a cat!” I screamed right in his face.
Howie opened his mouth to speak then closed it, smart enough not to ask how I knew. We glared at each other for a long tense moment, chests heaving in unison. He looked at the floor, at our bare toes threatening to touch each other on my parents’ moldy carpet. His hand went to his hair. His voice trembled when he spoke again. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to protect you out there.”
I inched closer, removing any breadth of fading light between us. “You don’t have to always be the protector. I can handle myself. So can Brooks.” I took his hand and said the worst possible thing I could’ve said at that moment, when I almost had him. “Your dad will save us.”
Howie pushed me away, much harder than I think he intended to. I stumbled back and landed with a thud on the floor. I saw his inner struggle, to come to me or not. In the end, pride won out and he spat, “My father is dead to me, and I will not beg for his help. For no one!”
With that, he was gone; across the boardwalk and out of the house. The Stepp’s door slammed so hard a section of railing fell to the ground below.
Chapter Forty-Nine
I didn’t sleep at all that night. I kept waiting for the phone basket to thump against my window. Then, tired of waiting, I climbed across the boardwalk — with no railing in the middle of the night because I’m an idiot — and climbed into Howie’s bed. It smelled of him, sweat and... man. I convinced myself that it was still warm from his body heat, and refused to move lest the cold reality touch my skin.
By the time the sun finally rose, I’d already had my shower and gotten ready for the trip. When Brooks came downstairs with his backpack, I was sitting on the edge of the couch, scratching a cut on my head.
His eyes bugged out at the sight of my patchy bare scalp.
“One word and you’re next.” I picked up my backpack and headed for the door.
I hadn’t set out that morning to totally disfigure myself. I was bored, killing time after I realized Howie really wasn’t coming back. In an effort to blend in, maybe look less like a girl out there, I took a pair of scissors to my bounciest, prettiest curls.
Then, not yet satisfied, I chopped at the remaining locks until they, too, disappeared. When I looked in the mirror, the last wad of black falling into the sink, I was unrecognizable as a girl, as me. It was cathartic.
Just to be sure, though, I had poured myself into one of Brooks’s old t-shirts; one that didn’t even fit him anymore. As I peeled it down my torso, my emerging womanly figure slinked back into the shadows. Two more shirts, a flannel, and a heavy jacket erased the last hints of femaleness from my frame.
“You ready?” I asked, hand on the doorknob.
Brooks’s eyes darted around.
“He’s not coming.” I said in a tone that invited no further discussion.
Brooks hesitated, feet stuck to the floor.
“We’ll be fine,” I said, forcing confidence into my throat. “And so will he, now come on.” I jerked my head toward the world outside.
“Hold on,” Brooks said, crossing the Stepp’s yard into ours.
“Be careful,” I called after him. Junk piled up all around our house, some of it ours from before and some a present from the Dust Flood. Jagged pieces of metal stuck up from the new thick layer of dirt on the ground, like evil knife-fingers of our grandparents’ Boogeyman.
As I adjusted my dust mask, I watched from afar as Brooks laid the “World’s Best Mom” rose on our front porch. He put something else beside it that I couldn’t make out, until the light tinkling sound of it hitting the wood. His stone. I instinctively felt in my pocket for mine and our parents’. If I was a stronger person, I would have gone to him, laid them all together to ride out the apocalypse as a family.
My fingers still clung to the three pebbles when he returned, wiping away tears that I pretended not to see.
“Let’s go on an adventure,” I said, and took his wet hand in mine.
WE WALKED FOR FOUR days without seeing another soul. My plan had been to walk early in the morning, take a break during the heat of the day, then pick back up in the evening. Simple enough.
Yeah, that went out the window on day one.
There was no 'heat of the day', first of all. Just colder and coldest. Brooks couldn't walk longer than an hour or two at the most, either. Our pattern quickly devolved into me forcing him to start walking again, telling him to keep up, him begging for a piggyback ride, then refusing to take one more step.
On those frequent pit stops, after we busied ourselves with the usual pit stop necessities, we would crank up the PodMate to check for updates. The message stayed the same, gloom and doom and threats of bodily harm. Perfect bedtime story.
What I didn't do during those exhausting days and freezing nights, was chip Howie. Let him stay behind and give up. That was on him. I had a little brother to protect.
The second that thought crossed my mind I regretted it. If there was any sense of right in this messed up world anymore, he'd also have a little brother to protect. And a sister. And a mom.
If I was being honest with myself, a practice I had recently started and didn't much like, Howie had lost so much more than I had. Losing a parent sucks balls. It's horrible and it breaks you in ways you never thought possible. But, it happens. As soon as you learn what death is, you do the math.
Losing siblings, younger ones at that, it's... it's not natural. You aren't just losing a part of your life, you're losing your future. That fire took everything that Howie was, and was supposed to be.
That's the real reason I didn't chip him. I knew I'd just turn back, go to him, never let him go. We'd die together on this Stone forsaken planet. And take Brooks with us. I couldn't let that happen.
I like to think that's why he never chipped me either.
It was during one of those downward spirals, when every thought flip-flopped between trudging on and turning back, that we met our first traveler. Brooks yanked on my shirt, too exhausted for words, urgently trying to snap me back to the real world.
I smelled him before I saw him, even with my double dust masks. It hit me as soon as Brooks wrestled my attention from my inner demons. My first instinct was to jump out of the way of a stampeding herd of zombie cows; it was that bad. He had a distinct odor of decay clouded around him mingled pungently with the usual aromas of unwash.
As he stumbled closer, the stench of guilt washed over me. Here was this poor old — extremely old, like should have been dead from natural causes a decade ago — man trying to get to safety. Same as us. Brooks and I stepped aside and waited for him to pass. What is proper etiquette when fleeing a dying planet, anyway?
A couple hours later, we passed him sitting on a rock. He smiled at us between chugs of rust colored water. Two of his front teeth had fallen out, or been knocked out by the looks of the jagged edges. One on top and one on bottom. They were on opposite sides, though. The tooth above or below the holes filled in the space perfectly. If I was him, I wouldn't bother to fix them either.
We danced together that way for the next two days, the turtle and the two hares; trading first and second place back and forth in our race to salvation. The last time we saw him, when it was our turn to lead for a while, he was laying in the ditch. His
head and feet rested on each side of the embankment like his own personal AdjustoMatic bed in the middle of nowhere. I lied and told Brooks he was taking a nap.
Lucky for me, that same afternoon we found our next dancing partners. Brooks quickly lost interest in asking me why the old man hadn't come by.
Our new friends looked like a long suffering married couple. The husband had that defeated shuffle in his step that you only get after years of browbeating. The wife confirmed my suspicion by the severity of her pinched lips and the way she looked down her nose at him every time she turned her head his way, although he had to be a head taller.
They came up the onramp to I-95 a good distance ahead of us, so we only ever saw their backs — his perfect barbershop 'cut #3 please' and her long black braid... and judging nose and beady eye every now and then. I knew her type well and although I never saw their full faces, I spent the next day and night imagining their miserable lives together.
Him 'yes dear'ing everything she said, and it still not being good enough. Her complaining to her girlfriends that it was like raising another child. Just like Uncle Lieu and Aunt Perla. Stone, I hadn't thought about them in years.
We heard our next friend coming from a mile away. Probably more since it’s dead quiet in a dead world. The idiot came roaring by on a pink scooter, hollering and blasting his horn. I pushed Brooks to the ground and dove on top of him. The bike screeched to a stop almost on top of us. I jumped up to give the guy hell and was met by the dumbest grin I’d ever seen.
“I was nowhere near you,” he said with a flippant shrug.
Brooks scrambled to his feet and charged at Howie, arms out wide. Feeling less forgiving, I stomped on his foot.
“Ow,” he laughed. “That’s my driving foot.”
“What are you doing here?” I didn’t wait for a response, dusting myself off and stomping back to the road.
A strange thing happens when you spend all your time walking, hours upon hours of one foot in front of the other. Your brain starts to pick away at all the walls you’ve built to keep yourself sane. I’d been forced to deal with all my... stuff. Mom, Dad, everything. My emotions and I explored every ounce of anguish and elation I wished I’d buried them under.
The last wall had Howie’s name on it, big and red and demanding to be destroyed. For two days I argued with myself, often out loud to the horrified stares of Brooks.
Howie’s was a wall I didn’t have it in me to tackle. Everything I’d lost before Howie, had been taken from me. The Glitch. The famine. The Wasting. All out of my control, comforting unavoidability was the salve that patched me back up each time. But Howie chose to leave me. He was faced with the prospect of never seeing me again and said, ‘meh, alright.’
It was not alright with me. No, I knew I needed him in my life, any way any how. He was part of me. My rock. My best friend. My love.
My Howie.
And if I ever saw him again I’d tell him! Run to him and throw my arms around his neck and kiss his soft forgiving lips.
But he left me!
But he was here now.
Smiling that stupid crooked smile and straddling the scooter as he attempted to roll it after me. Brooks sat perched on the handlebars honking away, pure childlike glee lighting up his face.
My Howie was here, and I couldn’t make myself turn to face him.
“I thought you’d wait for me,” Howie called out. “I thought you’d give me time to cool off, but when I went back...” His voice trailed off and I did stop for him then. “You left me,” he said again, and I thought he was going to cry he sounded so gutted.
“I couldn’t wait around. You left me and I had to do something. Get Brooks out of there. We had to go.” It all fell out of my mouth at once.
“I would never leave you.” His words had an edge to them.
“I thought...” I could barely find my voice. All the things I told myself I’d say to him, the things I wanted to do. They had left me and all I could do was cry.
“Told ya I wasn’t dilly dallying. Howie was on the scooter and he didn’t catch us!” Brooks broke in, shattering the tension like only he could.
I sniffled, grateful for the laugh, and gave Howie my best ‘gee thanks for that’ look.
“Well, I’m sure you were power walking the whole time, but I didn’t start driving ‘til three days ago.” Howie took my hand and motioned for me to climb onto the seat with him.
It was at that moment that I truly noticed him. There was barely enough room on the bike for him, let alone adding me. He had two backpacks over his shoulders, one in the front and one in back. Every stitch of clothing he owned padded his lithe frame. Catching my bewildered expression he smiled and said, “had some things to take care of first.”
Apparently, Howie spent our first day on the road convincing himself of how wrong I was and how we’d be better off staying at the Stepp’s house forever. After rehearsing a rousing speech which perfectly illustrated every one of his points, he marched over to the house, only to find us gone. For the next two days, he grudgingly admitted, he cursed my name and locked himself in his room.
Later, when Brooks was asleep he’d also admit to spending an exorbitant amount of time in my room, smelling my pillow and discarded clothes, stuff that had been left behind like him.
After his rage-fueled pity party he stalked back home, back to his burned-out shell. It took him a full day to sift through the embers of his life to find enough pieces to fill one of the backpacks. Then he painted a message to Pettine — just in case — on the road in front of his house and left.
“Gotcha something,” Howie said to Brooks, and unzipped his front backpack. The faint scent of char that I’d tried not to notice on Howie became an unbearable fog once he opened the bag. Still, with a big sad smile, he pulled out a soot covered robot.
“Zordon!” Brooks squealed with delight and snatched the toy from Howie.
“That thing better not work,” I whispered in Howie’s ear.
“Don’t worry, I’m stupid, not suicidal.” He dug around in the bag again and smiled wide. “And for you.”
Evelyn’s baby piano fit perfectly in the palm of my hand. The legs were gone and the key cover was warped. It wouldn’t close all the way. But it was beautiful. “How did it—?”
Howie shrugged. “Dunno, found it under the sink.”
I didn’t know how much I needed that, my little piece of Evelyn to take with me, but Howie did. He always knew that sort of thing. “Thank you,” I sobbed. I threw my arms around him and cried kisses into his neck.
“Uh,” he cleared his throat after a moment, and in his manliest ‘no I’m not crying’ voice said, “We should get going.”
“How’d you get this thing running?” I asked, and put the piano in my special pocket to ride off into the sunset with my stones.
“It’s not. Damn solar cells are shot. Won’t hold a charge. That’s why it took three days to catch you. You guys are so slow.” Brooks and I both groaned indignantly. “Nice hair by the way,” he said as he revved the engine and took off.
I cringed and shrank against his back. In all the drama of seeing him again I’d forgotten my bald-ass ugly head.
It took hours for them to shut up about it. I was so thrilled when Brooks dozed off and the scooter lost its charge.
We found a large tree to bed down in for the night. We had to go deep into the woods beyond the interstate, rows and rows of anemic looking stalks and blackened stumps. Howie set up three separate sleeping branches for us, mine on the lowest of course.
My head hit the wadded-up jacket and I immediately started to drift. I’d never been so comfortable in all my life.
“I’m sorry,” Howie whispered from the branch above. If he had bothered me with any other words besides those, I would’ve pushed him out of the tree. Instead, I peeled my eyes open and motioned for him to continue. “I shoulda never let you come out here alone. Unprotected.” His eyes lingered on my shaved head, then found the angry
raised scar on my cheek.
The moon was high above the fog; dim rays struggled to break through, to shine on us like they used to when we played together on our tree. A pitiful substitute for our wonderful starry nights, carefree and innocent. Before. It was, however, just bright enough to highlight the darkness that clouded his dazzling emerald eyes.
“I can take care of myself,” I said, louder and cheerier than I meant to. “Besides, Bit wouldn’t let anyone come sniffing around me.” An obvious hint that I’d heard their man-to-man, which he ignored.
His dark gaze didn’t falter. “Regardless, I still don’t think it’s safe out here. Not for you.” He waved a hand toward my body in a way that screamed ‘a girl’, “Not for Bit, and...”
“Maybe it’s me who needs to protect you.” The light teasing tone of my voice begged him to drop it, change the subject. Whatever you do, don’t tell me whatever thing is weighing on your chest right now. Please. I can’t take one more... thing.
Howie took a deep breath. I could see his entire body stiffen and relax in preparation for whatever purge he was about to throw at me. “I’m a coward.”
My head twitched. Not quite what I expected.
“I tried to stay behind to save my own ass because I’m a coward,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. “I can’t go back there, Syn. I just can’t.” One large tear shined in his eye, turning it into a jade crystal orb.
“Go back where?” I asked, stunned. This was unchartered territory for all of us. This new town, the Wall of the Lost, the Ship... the new planet! There was nowhere for him to go back to because everything was brand new and terrifying and unknown. Back? Everything ‘back’ was gone.
Then, he climbed down to my branch and under my blanket, skillfully wiping his eyes where he thought I couldn’t see. Shock blinded me to anything beyond him. His body under my blanket, touching my body. Sure, we were fully clothed, multiple times over, and Brooks was two feet away on his own branch but... We were touching!
Epoch Earth; the Great Glitch Page 24
