Hope

by A. American

  “Damn it,” Neal said under his breath. He didn’t like people close by, and how was he going to sleep knowing they were a stone’s throw away. He watched as they headed away, the girl trailing the man like before. The backpack that hung from her shoulders looked empty. Her arms dangled and barely moved as she shuffled. She looked weary and defeated to him.

  The girl and her tattered appearance pulled at Neal’s heartstrings. He wondered what horrors she had witnessed. No doubt being on the road was difficult for an adult much less a child.

  “We’ll camp right here, next to our new friend,” the man said as they walked off.

  The girl said nothing. She opened her right hand, which had been fisted, and dropped a crumpled piece of paper. When it hit the ground, she turned and looked to see if Neal saw. He was watching.

  When they locked eyes, she nodded.

  Neal wasn’t an expert in body language but could tell that was a signal. He jumped to his feet and cleared the distance to retrieve the paper. He unfolded it to find two words handwritten: HELP ME.

  Alarmed by the note, he lifted his gaze and watched as the man and girl settled in. Neal’s heart pounded heavy in his chest. With this knowledge could he just walk away or do nothing? Was it a ruse to get him close so they could attack him and take his stuff? Dozens of scenarios played out in his thoughts.

  The man barked orders to the girl, who obeyed without question.

  He needed to process this possible development. There wasn’t a clock ticking on when he acted, but if it were true, he needed to help, but just how he’d do that was the unknown equation.

  Neal’s eyes grew heavy, but each time before they closed, he’d open them wide and readjust his sitting position. He had come to the decision to act, but each time he thought about how, he’d hesitate. The problem with hesitation was he needed to sleep. Knowing the man not twenty-five feet from him couldn’t be trusted made the timeline short.

  He punched his thigh hard to stay awake. He played out exactly how he saw the encounter going. He’d walk over, pull his pistol on the man, and demand the girl be released. The man would comply and leave peacefully. Problem solved. No altercation and everyone could go their own way, only he would have a new traveling companion.

  Neal’s head dropped. He had fallen asleep again. This time he stood to wake himself. He paced his small campsite. Over and over he ran through what he was going to do. He’d gather the nerve to walk over and confront the man, but he’d suddenly stop as a contrary thought would trump it.

  “Get it together,” he chided himself.

  Was it the fatigue that was causing him pause, or was he scared? Was that it, was he a coward? He hadn’t gone to help Carlos because of fear. He had convinced himself and told Karen that it was more about them than him, but was that even true? He hated confrontation, but maybe deep down he was nothing but a spineless coward.

  The man yelled something unintelligible.

  Neal turned and saw him jabbing his finger in the girl’s face.

  “Do it,” Neal said under his breath. He began his march towards the man and girl, his fists clenched and his eyes fixed squarely on the man.

  “Hey there, come and join us,” the man said, waving Neal over with a crooked smile.

  Neal stopped feet from their makeshift campsite and bluntly asked, “Who are you?”

  “I’m no one, just a weary traveler on this long road. I’m no different than you. I’m looking for a better place, a safe place for me and my niece.”

  The girl looked up at Neal.

  Neal caught her staring; he returned her look then trained his eyes back on the man.

  “What’s going on here?” Neal asked.

  “My friend, take a seat. Please, let’s talk. You seem tired and, to be quite frank…agitated,” the man said calmly, motioning with his hand for Neal to sit down.

  “No.”

  “Then what can I do for you?” the man asked, his tone shifting to irritation.

  Neal gulped; a bead of sweat coursed down his face. “This girl, you,” Neal said, looking at the girl now, “are you here against your will?”

  “Leave now. Thank you for your help earlier, but I can see you’re nothing but trouble,” the man said, his hand inching around behind him towards the pistol tucked in the waistband of his pants.

  “Are you here against your will?” Neal asked the girl.

  She sat motionless. Her facial muscles tightened and her eyes widened.

  “Just tell me, it’s fine,” Neal said.

  The man kept moving his right hand ever so slowly.

  Neal held up the piece of paper and said, “You dropped this.”

  The girl was rigid, her body frozen in fear.

  The man placed his hand on the grip of his pistol and pulled it out swiftly.

  Neal reacted, but his timing was off and he knew it the second it all went down.

  The girl leaped on the man, forcing him to fall backwards.

  A struggle ensued between the girl and the man.

  Neal stepped forward to help when a shot rang out.

  The girl rolled off the man. A patch of thick blood appeared on her shirt.

  The man looked crazy eyed at Neal and swung his pistol towards him.

  Neal, now ready, leveled his Sig and squeezed off two shots; both struck the man squarely in the chest.

  The man looked down at the wounds in his chest, looked up at Neal and, with blood pouring from his mouth, muttered, “Would you fucking look at that.” He coughed up more blood before slouching to his side and exhaling his last breath.

  The girl scooted away from the man and nestled up against the jagged rocks. She placed her hand on the bloodstain and whimpered.

  “Let me see the damage,” he said, immediately seeing to her.

  The girl lifted her shirt, showing him the damage that was done. The bullet had ripped through her midsection just below her right ribs.

  Neal rolled her gently to examine her back and found the bullet had exited. “It went through. That’s good.”

  “Please help,” she moaned.

  “I will, I promise. I’ll take care of you,” he replied.

  She began to cry and shake.

  “I need you to remain calm. Sit tight. I’ll be right back. I need to get my first aid kit,” Neal said and sprinted towards his campsite. He tore through the trailer until he found it and raced back.

  “Please help me, please,” she begged, grabbing his arm.

  Neal again reassured her, “I’ll take care of you. Just sit still and let me clean you up. Breathe easy, take full and slow breaths.”

  She nodded.

  Neal started addressing the wound.

  She squinted as he wiped up the blood.

  “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

  She nodded.

  “What’s your name?”

  The pain was becoming intense for her. She again grabbed his arm and squeezed.

  “You’ve got a good grip there. My name is Neal. What’s yours?”

  “Help, please.”

  “I’m helping. I’ll get this cleaned up, and then I’ll need to—”

  “My sister, you have to help my sister.”

  “Where’s your sister? Is she close by?”

  “Help my sister, you have to.”

  Neal didn’t know why she was trusting him, but she was.

  “I didn’t get your name.”

  She cried out in pain.

  “You’ll be fine.”

  “Hope.”

  Neal wasn’t focused on her face, so he didn’t notice she had turned white and was going into shock.

  “Hope, help,” she mumbled. Her voice was becoming garbled.

  “You hope I’ll help. I am.”

  “No, Hope…sister.”

  “Oh, got it. Hope is your sister’s name. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  “Char…”

  Hearing the way she responded, he looked at her face. “No, don’t you dare die o
n me.”

  “I’m…”

  Neal stopped working on her wound so he could make sure she wasn’t dying. He touched her face and could feel how cool her skin was.

  When he touched her, she fully opened her eyes and looked at him. “Help, please.”

  “I am, but don’t you dare die on me, okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Now just rest. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

  She again nodded and closed her eyes.

  “Char, hmm, let me guess. Charlie?”

  She shook her head.

  “Is your name Charlene?”

  Again she shook her head.

  “Darn,” he joked. He was attempting to make her feel at ease with his banter, and it seemed to be working. “Oh, let me see, Char, Char, um, I give up,” he said as he began stitching her abdomen.

  “Charlotte.”

  “Charlotte! That’s a beautiful name. And your sister is Hope?”

  She didn’t respond. Her head rolled gently to the side as she drifted off.

  “You sleep. You’re in good hands, I promise,” Neal said. He looked up to the sky and said, “Are you seeing this, Karen, huh? Are you happy?”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.”

  – Desmond Tutu

  Ocotillo, CA

  Another day and another curveball had been hurled at Neal. He hadn’t gone looking for trouble but trouble found him. Now he was responsible for the care and well-being of Charlotte, whose wound was bad and her condition worsening.

  Charlotte was awake and staring cautiously at Neal.

  Not sure what to say, Neal asked, “How did you and your old traveling companion meet?”

  “My sister and I were taken from our house.”

  “By that guy?”

  “Not him, but he was part of that group.”

  Neal shook his head and thought, What happens to men when they group up in an apocalypse?

  “He promised to help us.”

  “You keep mentioning your sister. Why isn’t your sister with you?” he asked.

  Not wanting to give away what specifically happened, Charlotte decided not to disclose all the information. “We got separated. I tried to go get her, but Bob took me.”

  “And for what purpose?”

  “To sell me.”

  “I’ve heard it all now; he was going to sell you?”

  “Yes. Don’t you believe me?”

  “I do. I have to say I’m just not shocked anymore. This world is upside down.”

  “You have to help me; you have to go get Hope.”

  Neal looked towards the sky and said, “Is this what you wanted?”

  Charlotte looked at him oddly and asked, “Who are you talking to?”

  “My wife.”

  Charlotte adjusted herself. She was lying on Neal’s sleeping bag, but the hard ground was becoming uncomfortable, and her wounds were painful. “Can I have some aspirin or something?”

  “I gave you some Advil and a hydrocodone, but I’m not sure about giving you anything more hardcore than that. Do you know if you’re allergic to anything?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “If the pain becomes worse, I’ll see what I can do.”

  “You have to go get my sister,” Charlotte again insisted.

  “Charlotte, I’ll help you, I’ll even help you find your sister, but we’re not going anywhere anytime soon. You’re hurt and you need to heal.”

  “Just leave me. Go, go now. She’s only six; she needs me.”

  “I’m not leaving you here.”

  “Go, please.”

  “Get some more rest, and if you’re better tomorrow, we’ll set out,” Neal said. He didn’t know exactly how he would take her with him in her current condition. She had lost a lot of blood, and with his bike already difficult to ride because it was so heavy, he couldn’t imagine putting her in there and making for San Diego or wherever her sister was. He could empty the bike of all the supplies, but that would be too risky.

  He was in an almost impossible situation. Any way he looked at it, he didn’t have enough food and water. In another week or less he’d run out and then what?

  In some ways he welcomed the outcome with open arms if it led to his death. He could happily and peacefully die knowing he didn’t take his own life, just so he could be reconnected with Karen and Beth. But was that possible? Was there an afterlife? This was where he became fearful of death. The possibility that there wasn’t an afterlife, only darkness, struck fear within him. He wanted to have faith, but after all of his experiences, he struggled to believe. He wanted to have faith that there was a God, but he couldn’t help but ask what kind of God would allow such suffering. He was aware of all the debate and the rationale for free will, but didn’t God provide miracles? Why didn’t he come down and give mankind the biggest miracle since Jesus’ resurrection? If he did, many people could have been saved and would still be alive. His struggles with believing were as real to him as his struggles to survive the drudgery of this new world.

  “What happened to your wife?” Charlotte asked.

  Neal couldn’t hear her. His thoughts had drifted away.

  “Your wife, what happened to her?” she asked again after clearing her throat loudly.

  Jolted back to the present, Neal replied, “Oh, um, she died. My daughter died too.”

  “How?”

  “Sick, they got really sick.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too,” he said and chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked, finding his snicker odd.

  “Our conversation, it’s so weird. If someone asked me a year ago if I’d be sitting in the desert off the interstate, nursing a teenager with a bullet wound, and that my family would be dead and the world had gone crazy, I’d say that was an absurd situation, an impossible one. But look at us. It’s real. You’re here, my family is dead, and I’m traveling to San Diego in hopes of sailing away on my boat after I help rescue a little girl named Hope.”

  “I guess it does sound weird.”

  Neal sighed loudly and rested against a large boulder.

  “Where are you from?” she asked.

  “El Centro.”

  “Before all of this, what did you do, for work, that is?”

  “I drove trucks for a distribution company.”

  “Like the big ones, the tractor trailers?”

  “Yeah, but I wasn’t an over-the-road trucker.”

  “What’s an over-the-road?”

  “It’s nothing,” Neal replied, not wanting to have the conversation anymore.

  Charlotte could tell he had pulled back.

  “You need to rest.”

  “Okay,” Charlotte said and closed her eyes.

  Neal stretched out and tucked his backpack under his head.

  “Thank you,” Charlotte said.

  “You’re welcome,” Neal replied.

  “Goodnight,” Charlotte said.

  “Goodnight. Now get some rest,” Neal said, hoping she’d be quiet.

  Charlotte slowly drifted off.

  Sleep sounded good, but Neal found it impossible to shut his mind down. His thoughts bounced from Karen to Felicia to Charlotte then to Hope, the faceless little girl who needed to be rescued. It would be so easy to just leave Charlotte lying there and set out alone. He didn’t need to do anything; he wasn’t truly obligated. It would be so much easier to just ignore the suffering around him and head directly for the boat and set sail, leaving it all behind. But how could he live with that? Life wasn’t easy nor was doing the right thing.

  Beth came to mind. He posed the hypothetical question of her being alive and alone. Would he want someone like him to go save her? Of course he would. These two girls needed help, and for whatever reason, their salvation was put right in front of him. He had to see it through.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “All hope abandon,
ye who enter here!”

  – Dante Alighieri

  Ocotillo, CA

  “Hope, no,” Charlotte mumbled.

  Neal woke to find dawn had arrived. He had slept for hours, something he needed.

  “Hope, please, no,” Charlotte again mumbled.

  He looked over at her and saw her eyes were closed and her face glistened with a pasty sweat.

  She rocked her head back and forth while mumbling unintelligible gibberish.

  Concerned, he rose and felt her skin. She was burning up. Overnight she had developed a fever, most likely from the wound. He lifted her shirt and instantly saw problem number one: her abdomen was enlarged, bloated and blue. He pulled the bandage back, and blood mixed with pus oozed from the stitching. Red striations jetted out from the hole, also signaling that the wound was festering.

  Neal wasn’t good at medical care past first aid, but he could tell she had two problems that could be fatal. First, she had internal bleeding, and second, she had an infection.

  “Charlotte, you hear me?” he asked.

  She opened her eyes and answered, “Yes.”

  “I’m not going to sugarcoat this, but you’re in bad shape.”

  She pressed her eyes closed, took a deep breath, and licked her lips.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “Yes,” she replied.

  He thought that maybe he needed to drain the wound, but he didn’t know. Where was a doctor or someone skilled in medical care when you needed one? Like before with Karen and Beth, he regretted never getting any training. He just never imagined he’d ever be in this type of situation, yet here he was, unprepared with zero skills.

  What do I do? he asked himself. Do I drain the wound? Do I just let it be? Why is she bleeding inside? Is there a fragment of the bullet causing it? All these questions ran through his mind without an answer for any of them. Once again he felt helpless, powerless to do anything.

  “Hope, you have to go save Hope,” Charlotte said, grabbing his arm.

  Her touch brought him back. “I’ll go find her, but we need to take care of you first.”

  “Go find her.”

  Realizing that if she died, he’d have no way of knowing where Hope was, he thought to ask, “Where is Hope? Where do I find her?”