One is that he’ll have to make the long trek back to his house and arrive having failed to provide transportation for his family. In their weakened condition, they won’t be able to walk far. There’s no doubt that they have to leave, but they’ll have to travel miles to the coast and he’s not sure they have the energy to make it that far.
We have no choice; we have to try, he thinks, wracking his brain for an alternative solution, and finds none.
Steeling himself and gathering resolve to make the journey back, he raises his head. Next to a small barn at the rear of the house, Andrea sees Paolo’s horse grazing lazily next to the barn door.
Of course! I completely forgot about his horse, Paolo thinks, hope rising. There’s also a small cart in the barn.
Sliding out of the seat, he shambles to the structure, his steps quicker. Opening the barn door, he immediately spots the small cart inside, next to the stall reserved for the horse. With quivering muscles, he tosses some of the barley and hay from broken bales into the back. Luckily, the harness meant to pull it is still attached. Knowing he’d be at a loss how to connect the series of straps and poles were it not, he feels fortunate.
Now if the horse will behave, he thinks, heading outside.
Guiding the horse inside, he lifts the harness and places it across the horse’s back. It takes effort, but he manages, tightening the straps under the belly and across the chest. The horse, apparently used to the procedure, stands docilely. Taking a moment to rest against the large animal’s side, he then puts on the reins and begins leading the horse and cart out of the barn and to the roadway.
The trip back is faster as he doesn’t have to haul the wheelbarrow, which remains sitting near the front of the Paolo’s truck. He would ride in the cart, but the reins are too short. It still takes time and he has to rest periodically along the way but, with the cart, he maintains a measure of hope about getting his family to a safe encampment.
Hopefully they’ll have a medical tent set up to help, he thinks, eyeing the lengthening shadows of the closing day.
Returning with the dying rays of the sun stretching across the fields, he tells Felisa the news. Suitcases lie on the beds, mostly filled but still being added to under Felisa’s guidance. She and the kids are moving slowly, easily tired and having to rest. However, they manage to make headway toward gathering the items they’ll need for the journey. Andrea heads outside to the shed to add a few items to the rear of the cart. Felisa, finished with the packing, places food and water near the front door. With the sun dropping below the horizon, he feels they have everything they’ll need for the trip in the morning.
* * * * * *
The sun beats down mercilessly as they trudge along the narrow paved highway heading west. Snaking its way through the rough, hilly terrain separating their valley from the coast, the road periodically turns through a series of switchbacks as it climbs and descends the steep slopes. The trip, normally made in minutes by car, is taking considerably longer with Andrea walking alongside the horse, guiding it and the cart by the reins. It’s a slow, plodding trek, but one made easier by the fact that they have some form of transportation.
In the back of the cart, the kids and Felisa ride beside supplies piled along the sides and front. For most of the trip, they’ve stared wordlessly at the slowly passing countryside and taken periodic naps. Andrea thought about riding in the cart with his family, but he wouldn’t be able to guide the horse from there. So, he plods slowly beside the dark brown gelding. Even though he only has to walk, they take frequent rest stops. The warmth of the day isn’t helping Andrea’s depleted energy, but they manage to make progress, slow step by slow step.
They pass several small towns and country houses, every one of them carrying an aura of stillness. Andrea hasn’t spotted a single bird or other animal. However, in some of the fields, he’s observed darkened forms of livestock lying among the stalks of grass. He’s not sure why the livestock has died yet the horse still lives. To his great annoyance, the only movement has been the periodic buzzing of insects that are attracted to the sweat oozing from his pores. Tired, Andrea barely has the energy to swipe them from his bare skin when they alight. They fly off only to return seconds later. Where the livestock have fallen closer to the road, he hears the buzzing of flies around the carcasses and watches as small clouds hover around them.
When they are left alone, there is only the creak of the leather straps, the rolling of the wheels across the hard surface, and the clop of the horse’s hooves. Occasionally, the gelding lifts its head and shakes it with a snort.
Having started out just as the sun crested to the east, it’s taken most of the day to transit through the hills. At midday, they stop for a bite to eat. As exhausted as he is and in the heat that seems to bake him, Andrea is barely been able to keep down the little that he eats. He’s used to the heat but, in his state, it is taking its toll, as is the poisonous atmosphere he is trudging through. The hope is that the coastal air will provide for a cleaner environment and that they aren’t too late to save themselves.
As the sun lowers to the west, Andrea leads the horse to the edge of the final ridge of the hills. Before him, the road descends a shallow grade into the plains adjacent the coastline. In the distance to the left, a large ridgeline blocks any sight of the sea but, directly ahead, he sees a thin blue line. Sunlight gleams off the water’s surface. Raising his hands to his eyes, he tries to make out any movement in the valley below. There is nothing to be seen, but he thinks that may be due to the distance.
All of those people went somewhere, he thinks, looking for some sign of an encampment.
He had expected to see a refugee camp set up somewhere tents lining the fields, smoke from a multitude of fires, perhaps movement from trucks bringing in aid and supplies. There is nothing and it looks very much like what they’ve passed throughout the day signs of civilization but without the people that created them.
With a sigh, he pulls on the reins and begins heading toward the valley. He only makes it partway down the descent when the sun hits the horizon. Knowing he won’t make it to the coastline before dark, he pulls to the side of the road with the last of the daylight bathing the landscape. Even though the moon will be almost full, they’ll need the remaining daylight to prepare dinner and set themselves up for the night. It’s not much as they spread a tarp on the bed of the cart and pull blankets over them. It’s crowded, but they make room and settle in.
Andrea feels the relief of being able to lie down after the daylong trek through the hills. He is a mix of worry and hope as he stares at the glittering stars above. He really hadn’t expected to make it this far when they set out, but he’d focused on one step after the other, each one drawing them nearer to the western coastline. Lying on the hard surface, his weariness diminishes as the heat of the day cools. There isn’t much conversation and, before he knows it, Andrea sinks into the oblivion of sleep.
* * * * * *
Feeling the sun on his face and noting a measure of light leaking through his closed eyelids, Andrea wakens. Blinking from the brightness of the morning and sore from sleeping on the hard surface of the cart bed, he rises and slowly slides to the ground. His head hurts, but he forces himself onto the road. Stretching his back, the kids and Felisa are roused by his movement, waking themselves with groans from similar aches.
Felisa immediately prepares some formula and is barely able to wake Davide for his morning feeding. He listlessly sucks at the bottle a few times before drifting back to sleep. Felisa keeps waking him to feed him more and the process is repeated. While she feeds Davide, Andrea digs through their supplies for a quick breakfast and feeds Donato and Mirella. They still have a ways to go and, although he’s not looking forward to trudging along the road for another day, he is nonetheless eager to set out. Today, if an encampment has been set up, they’ll arrive. It’s with this thought that Andrea pulls on the reins again. The cart lurches forward and their journey continues.
With his
mind mostly empty of thought, except for keeping one foot stepping in front of the other, Andrea has a faded memory of someone calling out the previous night. The voices had seemed to come from some distance, drifting on the night air from somewhere within the valley. Remembering, his hope rises of finding people alive and a safe haven.
The trip down and along the plains is slow, but they draw ever closer to the coast. Settlements increase in number, but Andrea still doesn’t see any movement or sign of habitation. Even though he was exhausted, he knows he heard something during the night.
Where there are voices, there are people, Andrea thinks, taking another weary step.
Closer to the shoreline, lines of cars block the road. The transition from an empty road to one filled with vehicles is abrupt. Reaching the first of them, he notes they are covered with dust and grime. It’s obvious that they’ve sat for some time. He knows, deep down, that he’s found where the ones who vacated the cities went.
There’s room along the side of the pavement for him to pass. Trudging along, he sees some signs that the vehicles have been lived in. He passes a few with bodies slumped in the passenger seat or lying in the back, all in some form of decompensation. Telling Felisa and the kids to lie down and not look out, he presses onward.
The stench of rotting flesh comes and goes. Each time he encounters the odor, his breakfast rises and threatens to spill out. Gulping, he holds it in through a sheer force of will. Behind, he hears one of his family as they fail to keep their meal down.
The blockage is seemingly miles long and, although the sight within the vehicles isn’t heartening, the fact that they’re here lends some hope that safety lies ahead.
If there isn’t any hope of safety, everyone would have turned around and fled somewhere else, he reasons.
Drawing closer, the stench increases and becomes a permanent fixture. Besides the odor of the dead, there is another that mixes with it. It’s the smell of waste left uncovered. The reek of open latrines and rot becomes overpowering. Still, there is a measure of hope.
Passing through a line of bushes and trees that separate the beach from the plains, Andrea comes upon the actual shoreline. It stretches as far as he can see to the north and south with small hotels adjacent the beach itself. Each has its own marked-off area in the sand with covered places for guests to relax and enjoy the beachfront.
However, most of these have been knocked down and every part of the beach is taken with tents and staked down tarps. Very few of the flimsy structures still stand upright. Many have been flattened and are only held in place from a few stakes planted in the ground. Others still have the appearance of being lived in. Tents and tarps alike flap from an onshore breeze.
Within the chaos of canvas, several small groups huddle in places near the shoreline. Most have the same lethargic look as Andrea and his family. The eyes from several of the closer groups slowly turn to look at the newcomers standing on the edge of the beach. Even from the distance, Andrea sees hopeful looks register on the faces of many, thinking that rescue has arrived. Realizing that Andrea is just a refugee like themselves, the expressions of eagerness are replaced with the previous look of hopelessness. They turn away and cast their gaze out to the sea beyond, holding onto the faint hope that help will arrive from that direction, hoping to be the first to spot a rescue ship on the horizon, but knowing full well that one won’t be coming.
Breathing shallowly to try and prevent the stench from overpowering him, Andrea looks closer at the beachfront. Unseen before because of his interest in the small, huddled groups, he now notes bodies lying amongst the fallen shelters. Some appear to have been torn apart while others just lie unmoving. Seeing the scene in front of him, the meager hope Andrea had of finding a safe haven fades.
Turning to the cart, Andrea looks to the faces of the kids and Felisa staring wide-eyed over the front. He watches hope die in his wife’s eyes; his heart sickens. Turning back to the beach, the gorgeous vista of the sea, while still beautiful, is a stark contrast to the ugliness and stench which lines the shore. He gazes upward to see if he can spot any contrails that once crisscrossed the skies. They remain clear of any sign of humankind. Andrea realizes there is nothing for them here. Walking to the side of the cart, he gets Felisa’s attention.
“There’s nothing for us here but death. We need to move on,” he says, feeling depressed for even having to say it.
He’s at the end of his rope endurance-wise, but they can’t stay here. Even if they don’t find a place, he won’t put his family into the hopelessness and sure death that stretches before them. Somehow, he’ll find the strength to push on.
“Where will we go, Andrea?”
“North to Salerno, I guess. Maybe the ferries are still running or we can find a boat to take us somewhere. There has to be a place for us to go, but this isn’t it,” he answers, sweeping a hand in an arc to indicate the beachfront.
Felisa turns to look out over the waters, hoping to find a glimpse of white which would indicate one of the many ferries that carted people to cities up and down the coast and across the Mediterranean. Sighing, she turns back to Andrea.
“Whatever you think. Do you think we’ll make it today?” she asks.
“It isn’t that far and the roads are flat. We may be able to,” Andrea answers.
The journey north along the coastline is a quick one, relatively speaking. At intervals, Andrea sees through the greenbelt separating the shore. Each time, he spots signs of tents and lines of cars, eventually thinning as they approach the outskirts of Salerno. With the sun approaching the horizon, they enter the town and make their way through empty streets toward the marina.
The clip-clop of the horse’s hooves on the pavement bounces off the buildings and echoes down the forlorn streets. Arriving at the waterfront, there isn’t any sign of the numerous ferries that once plied the busy waterway. The marina lies empty. Everyone who could has already confiscated the craft and motored away. Standing on the end of one of the docks, his family beside him, he knows any chance of them finding a safe place is gone. He feels sick at heart seeing his kids suffer and knowing that there isn’t a thing he can do. It’s just a matter of time now and a lingering, painful death awaits them all.
He crashes to his knees, feeling the pain but it barely reaches his consciousness. His heart, already filled with dread and worry, threatens to tear from within his chest. He sinks farther down, hiding his face with his hands, and sobs relentlessly.
Tears pour down his cheeks. Intense sorrow fills him. Lifting his head, he looks across the waters. With the sun painting a glorious sunset, he looks to skies above. They remain empty.
It’s the end of the world, Andrea thinks, still on his knees, grief encompassing his entire being.
# # #
You might wonder why the people haven’t been torn asunder from the night runners prowling the night from neighboring cities. At first, they found a feast from the refugees, but then fell to the same ailments of radiation poisoning. Most are barely able to make it out of their lairs at night as the sickness worsens.
Shelton, Washington
Trish pulls her hand inside the sleeve of the zip-up hoodie. The sun had set behind the hills some time ago, bringing a chill to the night. Although the days were warm, the hot summer days and mild evenings are still a few weeks away. Tucking a blanket around her legs, she regrets not going home to change out of the white summer dress she had worn during the day. However, there hadn’t been time if they were to make it to the drive-in and find a good place to park.
She isn’t particularly interested in the movie, but going to the drive-in with friends is one of her favorite things to do. When the drive-in is closed for the winter, there are the Friday night football games or other events. For the most part, it is being out with friends that brings her enjoyment. There were supposed to be more of them joining, lining their vehicles near each other. During the movie, everyone would drift from group to group, only partially watching the movie
on the large screen. However, most were unable to make it due to the flu bug sweeping through the area. Even her current boyfriend, Tyrell, had come down with it along with the rest of his family.
The only one able to make it was her friend, Katie, seated next to her in a lawn chair. They had arrived early enough to get a good spot to park her friend’s truck and set up in the bed. Of course, it wasn’t hard to find an ideal spot as the drive-in, which was normally filled to capacity on summer nights, was barely half full. The illness, from which several people she knew had died, had taken its toll. With the dissemination of the vaccine, the worst was supposedly over.
That’s the reasoning she gave herself for coming out. Both of her parents are down with the sickness, and she still feels a little guilty about leaving, but she won’t be gone long and they had managed to get in to get vaccinated. Besides, they hadn’t seemed to mind when she asked them if it was okay.
She had heard the reports on the news and knew the rumors circulating. The funerals she had attended always left her sad. There had been so many of them in the past weeks.
Trish paid for the snacks lying between them while Katie paid for the movie and gas. It wasn’t the evening she had wanted, but it was nice to be out with her friend. She and Katie dove into the snacks until a lump in Trish’s stomach told her that she’d had her fill. Now, the thought of downing another red vine was repulsive, so she periodically sips on her giant soda and settles in to watch the movie.
A nearly invisible ray of light carries over the vehicles until it casts the images on the large white billboard-type screen. Periodic white specks streak through the beam as bugs go about, well, whatever it is that bugs do. Luckily, this early in the summer, there aren’t many mosquitos, so there is at least that.
A New World: Untold Stories Page 12
