State of Grace

by M. Lauryl Lewis

  “The infection,” said Doc.

  I nodded and walked to Sam’s bedside. A wingback chair had been brought in, and I sat gingerly. I reached out and took Sam’s remaining hand in mine. He took a shuddering breath and moved his head side to side.

  “There’s no use,” he mumbled.

  “Sam?” I called to him.

  “There’s no point, Whitney. Everyone is gonna die.”

  I wasn’t sure who Whitney was.

  “Shhh, rest,” I tried to soothe him.

  His eyelids fluttered but he didn’t wake up. His hair was soaking wet and plastered to his forehead. His hand in mine felt so hot.

  “It’s okay to let go,” I said softly. “It’ll be okay, friend.”

  While I hadn’t known him for very long, Sam was like family. I didn’t want him to die, but I also didn’t want him to suffer.

  He cried out and grimaced.

  “It hurts,” he moaned. A tear fell from his eye and ran down his temple and onto the bed.

  “Doc?” I called.

  “I heard. I’m bringing morphine now.”

  “She’s gone, Zoe. Hope’s dead.”

  I used my other hand to caress his forehead.

  “I know. We lost her on the bus.”

  “They have her now,” he said as he began sobbing again.

  “Who has her, Sam?”

  “The smoke monsters. They’re so dark and she’s so bright it hurts to look at her.”

  His words caused a shiver to run up my spine. Doc and Gus moved the curtain aside and stepped to the other side of the bed. Doc reached across the bed to access the IV port, which was in the arm I was holding onto. He screwed a syringe onto the line and slowly pushed a clear liquid. Within seconds, Sam relaxed and was once again asleep.

  “He’s delirious,” said Gus. “You can’t try to read into what he said about Hope.”

  “I know.” It was all I could say.

  I don’t think he’ll be with us long, darlin’. You don’t have to stay and watch.”

  “Yes, I do. We owe him that much.”

  “I’ll stay with you,” he offered.

  “No. Let me do this alone. You can be there for me afterward.”

  He sighed heavily but knew me well enough to know to not argue. I hadn’t been able to be there for Hope, or Emilie, or Boggs...the list went on...but I would be there for Sam.

  In the background, I heard Gus and Olga and Doc talking to each other. I took hold of Sam’s hand again and leaned against the bed in which he fitfully rested. The skin of his hand had grown cold and clammy; only moments before it had been so hot. His chest rose and fell unevenly. Every now and then he’d cry out incoherently. It was hard to tell if it was a sound of pain or fear or from some other reason. When Doc and Gus came back, I didn’t move from my position or look away from Sam. They each took position on either side of the bed and began tying our friend to the frame of the bed.

  “Do you have to?” I asked.

  “You know we do, darlin’. You know what’ll happen after he’s gone.”

  “I know. I can take care of him before he turns,” I said quietly.

  I smoothed his hair back from his forehead, which was still hot.

  “No,” said Gus firmly.

  “No?” I asked, irritated.

  “Sorry, darlin’, but I won’t budge on this. If you’re alone with him, this is how it’ll be.”

  “Fine,” I forced the word out.

  They continued to apply the restraints. His amputated arm presented the biggest problem, so was left unbound. A soft strap was used to hold his chest down. Neither of the men said anything before stepping out, but Gus rested a hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently.

  Sam and I were left in relative silence. I kept his hand in mine and lay my head on the edge of the bed. I knew he was gone when his hand clenched mine briefly and then went slack.

  “Oh Sam,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t fix this.”

  I had no tears to offer; they had run dry. Instead, I folded his one hand over his belly and stood. I leaned down and kissed his forehead. His eyelids were partly open and his eyes already looked clouded. It’s amazing how quickly a person transforms from the living into the dead. Within seconds their life force is visibly gone. It’s the subtle things: lack of the rise and fall of the chest, skin no longer moving over pulse points, even cheeks become concave in the blink of an eye. Sam was there, and in a matter of seconds he was just – gone.

  I sat back down and took his cold, still hand in mine once again. I leaned against the side of his bed and rested my head on my arm. Focusing on when we first met Sam became a mental goal, and so I closed my eyes and focused. It seemed like years ago, not just days. Why I felt such a strong connection to him I wasn’t sure. Perhaps because I had worked so hard to save him during the tornado. Perhaps we were kindred spirits. There’d would be no chance to find out.

  Still unable to feel Gus within myself, the only clue that he was behind me was his breathing.

  “It’s time, darlin’.”

  “I want to stay until he’s really gone,” I mumbled against my arm.

  He set a hand on my shoulder. When I didn’t respond, he wrapped his arms around me in a loving embrace from behind.

  “It’s all been too much. He’s gone and it’s time to say good-bye.”

  “I can’t, Gus. I can’t lose anyone else.”

  Just before he began emitting a pathetic moan, Sam’s hand gripped mine. It was a cold, stiff grip marked with small twitches. I tensed, knowing he had woken up. Gus kept a firm yet gentle grip on me.

  “Doc,” called Gus. “It’s time.”

  “We’re here,” said the older man. “Olga, help hold his arm down, doll?”

  “Zoe, Doc’s going to take a blood sample before we leave.”

  I nodded, knowing there was a reason, likely research.

  Sam’s body quickly became active and fought the restraints.

  “Hold him still,” said Doc curtly.

  “I need to help,” Gus whispered as he kissed my cheek.

  He let go of me and I stood.

  “Tell me what I can do,” I said, exhausted but knowing they could use help.

  “Be a dear and hold his legs down at the knee caps,” said Olga. “Gus if you can get his other arm and neck that’d be peachy,” she continued.

  I thought to myself that ‘peachy’ was an odd word to use under the circumstances. I refrained from laughing, mostly out of fear of being labeled insane. Holding Sam’s knees down proved difficult. I simply wasn’t tall enough. Doc fought to obtain a sample of blood and the task seemed to grow more difficult with each breath I took. One of Sam’s feet sideswiped me face, knocking me off balance momentarily.

  “Hold up,” I said. “I need to get a better grip.”

  “Climb onto the bed,” said Olga in an even voice.

  I was in the process of doing just that when she suggested it. Doc took a step back as Olga released the dead man’s stump in order to still one of his legs while I got situated. Sam’s jaws snapped toward Gus hungrily. As I knelt on one leg to still it, a quick glance at Sam’s face left me with no doubt whatsoever that he was in no way the man we had known. I placed both of my hands on either side of his knee while my body weight held down the other leg. Olga’s arm muscles strained against the force of his stump working against her. The dead man nearly got ahold of Doc’s upper arm as he bent over for another attempt to draw blood.

  “Keep him steady,” the doctor said smoothly. “I’m almost done.”

  “Zo, babe, stay on his legs till Olga and I get there to take over.”

  All of a sudden the corpse below grew still.

  “No need,” said Doc.

  I looked up to see him still holding a knife that was embedded into Sam’s ear.

  I sighed party from exhaustion and partly from sadness, but was glad it was over, for Sam’s sake.

  CHAPTER 16

  Days passed, one blen
ding into the next. The sadness of losing Hope continued to fill my heart and occupied my mind without respite. Gus would scream her name in his sleep almost nightly. The two of us had grown distant since her death. I suppose we were a reminder to each other of the good and beauty we had brought into the world and then lost. My arm healed but ached by bedtime each day. I spent most of my days in the gardens pulling weeds and helping harvest as crops matured. Gus spent most of his time on top of the cargo containers on border patrol. I got into the habit of taking my meals to our little apartment, not wanting to face other people. The group as a whole disapproved, saying social isolation was dangerous. Once bedtime hit, Gus would come home late and I’d already be in bed.

  Time had little meaning in our new lives at the compound. Days of the week blended together. It was either dark or light, and I didn’t bother to track the actual time. Ash from the eruption of Mt. Rainier wasn’t thick where we had settled, but enough had accumulated in small drifts here and there that the scouting parties would bring back sacks full on occasion to put into the garden for fertilization. The idea had been mine, and I hated the praise I was given. I wanted to be invisible.

  ***

  The heat of summer hit in full force. This close to the Scablands of Washington felt like Hell on earth. Nights were seldom much cooler than daytime, and sleeping in our room grew uncomfortable. Most of my time was spent in solitude as Gus began doing patrol overnight. A crew was actively digging into the earth just outside the border, with the intention of lowering some of the cargo containers into the earth to be partially buried. They would double as safe rooms in the event of a horde as well as cooler sleeping quarters during the heat.

  Plants watered and weeds pulled, I was done for the morning when Chanel approached me.

  “A few of us are headed outside the walls on a scavenging run. Hoping you’ll come with us?” she asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know. There’s a lot to do here,” I said.

  “We’ll only be gone a few hours. You need to get out, Zoe.”

  I sighed, knowing she was right.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “Just a supply run. We’re taking a bad-ass truck so we can haul a lot. It’s just us girls this trip. There’s a town nearby called Winthrop so we’ll start there. We’ve already cleared most of the stores but there’s a small nursery a few miles outside of town we’ll hit up.”

  “Well...okay,” I said a bit hesitantly.

  I really didn’t want to go, but gave in. Maybe the change in routine would do me good.

  “I’m just about to take some water to the construction crew. We’ll be leaving in ten. I’ll let Gus know you’re headed out with us.”

  “No.”

  “No?” she asked, quizzically.

  “No. He’ll just worry. Let him focus on his work.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.” I paused briefly. “Positive.”

  The truth was I knew he’d protest my leaving the security of the compound.

  “Okay. Go ahead and check out your weapons of choice from Arnie and meet us down in the parking garage in a few minutes.”

  She walked away and I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly feeling a slight thrill at the thought of going on the run. I hurried to the weapon’s room, where I picked out a hunting knife and a revolver with extra ammo.

  Arriving at the parking garage, I was met by two women that weren’t much older than Chanel and myself. I had seen them in the kitchen and laundry areas a few times but had never said much more than “hi” to them. The taller of the two, Kendall, nudged the shorter as I approached.

  “Hey Zoe,” said the shorter of the two. “Chanel said you’re coming with today. Glad to have you on board.”

  “You know my sister Brenda, right?” asked Kendall.

  I smiled half-heartedly. “I don’t think we’ve really formally met,” I said.

  “You work in the gardens most of the time, right?” asked Brenda.

  “Yeah. It feels kinda peaceful.”

  “That’s hard to come by nowadays...a sense of peace.”

  “Yeah.”

  An awkward silence fell between us, broken only by one of the sisters suggesting we go ahead and climb into the truck.

  “You can sit up front with Chanel if you want,” said one of them.

  “I heard my name?” asked Chanel as she walked toward us.

  “Yeah. I’m up front with you,” I said.

  “Good. We can chat about some plans I have, if you don’t mind?”

  “Sure.”

  We all took seats in the truck. A crew cab, it was more than large enough for the four of us and the scant gear that Brenda and the sisters pre-packed.

  “What’s up with the backpacks?” I asked, eyeing four of them in the middle of the back seat.

  “Bug-out bags. In case we get stuck anywhere,” explained Kendall.

  “Wear it when we’re out of the truck. There’s some basics: water, dried food, a flashlight, some basic tools. Enough to last a day or two as long as you ration,” continued Brenda.

  “Awesome,” I said in a flat tone.

  “Relax,” urged Chanel. “It’s just in case.”

  “Okay. Let’s get going. I want to get back before dark,” said Kendall.

  Chanel turned the key and the pick-up revved to life. None of us bothered with seat belts. Hitched to the back of the pickup was an open trailer with decent-height wooden side rails. Chanel handled the set-up well. Olga and a man named Drew opened the gate for us, and we were on our way.

  ***

  The landscape had changed since we had first arrived at our new home. Trees were full of green leaves and dotted the hillsides in seas of green.

  “They’re mostly peach and apple,” said Chanel. “Orchards as far as you can see. We’ll come back when it’s time to harvest.”

  “Do you think there’s anyone left out there?” I asked, rather randomly.

  “We have to hope so.”

  The road was bumpy from lack of maintenance, and deserted vehicles dotted the shoulders.

  “We’ve cleared the highway for miles,” said Brenda over the noise of the wind rushing in through open windows. “Depending on how far we go, we may need to shove a few more off to the shoulder.”

  “What kinds of things should I be looking for, once we get there?” I asked.

  The excitement of the trip was starting to set in.

  “Really anything useful. Medicine, food, seeds, tools. Clothes. You name it.”

  “I saw a bunch of fancy white geese last time I was out,” said Kendall. “If they’re still there I’d like to try to catch some.”

  Chanel snorted as she laughed. “Good luck with that!”

  “No, really,” continued Kendall. “I’ve thought about it a lot. If we can herd them into a building or something, we could catch a few. Think about, another source of eggs. Goose and dumplings. Fertilizer.”

  “We’ll see,” said Chanel with a sigh.

  We drove along in silence, aside from the wind, for several minutes. I mulled over the goose idea.

  “She’s right,” I said suddenly.

  “Huh?” Brenda asked.

  “The geese. We could use them,” I continued.

  Chanel chuckled.

  “We’ll need to look for some sort of cages, then stop for the geese on the way home,” said Brenda.

  “Sure,” said Chanel with an alarming change to her tone.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Dead ahead. I don’t like the look of it.”

  “Where?” Kendall asked from the back seat.

  “The dark blue pickup on the left. Do either of you remember seeing it there before?”

  The girls in the back both got quiet for a moment.

  “I don’t remember,” said Brenda. “Maybe?”

  “I don’t,” said Chanel.

  “Slow down just a bit,” I suggested.

  Chanel took her foot off the gas b
ut didn’t apply the brake.

  “See how clean it looks? It hasn’t been there for long. At least not as long as the other vehicles,” I added.

  “I’m going to pull off at least fifty yards before we get there. Get your guns ready, and when I pull over get out through the passenger side and stay down, and grab your bug out bags too,” said Chanel, who seemed to naturally take charge.

  As the truck slowed to a stop, I took my pistol out, made sure the cartridge was full, and chambered a round. Swinging my pack onto one shoulder, I opened the door as soon as we were no longer in motion. I hopped down to the ground and rolled to the side to make room for Chanel. Kendall landed right after I did and our eyes met. It seemed an eternity before the other two joined us.

  “What next?” Brenda asked in a whisper.

  “We need to figure out if there’s someone with the truck,” said Chanel more calmly than I felt.

  “Want me to go look?” asked Kendall.

  “No. I want you on the back corner of the truck. Watch for any movement and be ready to shoot. Bren, same thing with you but at the front corner,” instructed Chanel.

  “What about me?” I asked.

  “Think your arm can handle sliding under the truck with me?” she asked in reply as she glanced at the gnarled scar on my forearm. She was one of the only people I confided to about the ongoing pain.

  “Yeah.”

  “Stay to my left. We’re just going to go under and watch for any movement.”

  I removed my bug-out bag from my shoulder and wiped my hands on my jeans. Alongside Chanel, I slithered under the truck. It was a lifted body but there still wasn’t much room to spare. The heat from the sun grew intolerable. The front driver’s side tire provided some protection as we surveilled the truck. The asphalt rippled with little thermal waves, constantly tricking my eyes and causing me to think I saw actual movement on the other side of the highway.

  “See the back of the truck?” I asked.

  “What am I looking for?” she asked.

  “It’s hard to see with the ripples. Look at the ground just behind the back tire. It looks dark.”

  “Maybe just a shadow.”

  “No. Look at the other shadows near it. It’s darker than the rest.”

  “Any ideas?” she asked.