by Brad Manuel
John went ahead of Solange. He felt her hand on his arm and stopped.
“That is where the soldiers went to die.” Solange held her left hand over her nose and mouth, pointing to the concrete building with her right index finger. Canvas draped from the top of the parking garage to the ground floor, tenting the entire structure as if they were fumigating for termites.
Corners of the canvas fell open in spots. Even from their distance Solange and John could see corpses ravaged by animals and birds.
“Okay, note to self, don’t go in the garage.” He nodded at her and gave a thumbs up. “Do you want to go back to the truck? You’ve seen this movie before. No need for you to deal with it again.”
“I am okay, but yes, I am not going into the parking garage.” John expected to see the corner of her eyes crinkled from a smile after her witty comment. Solange’s face, blocked by a scarf in similar fashion to John’s, did not move. She was not comfortable or happy.
John was not sure why he was outside of his truck. He had food. He had water. He did not need guns or ammunition. He was going to the tents to satisfy his curiosity. He yearned to know how the military handled the last few weeks. How close was the government to a cure? Could he decipher the last days of their world from what was behind the curtain? He reached the tent, looked at Solange, took a breath, and pulled back the flap.
It was another bunk house. The smell hit him in the face like a baseball bat. He dropped the tent canvas and stumbled back.
“More bodies.” He gagged as he told her. “There’s nothing here. Let’s get back in the truck and get the hell out of here.” He motioned with his hand for her to walk back to the truck. “Let’s find a plane. Find available fuel, and let the dead rest in peace.”
“You will get no argument from me.” She said, her voice muffled by the scarf around her mouth.
They walked back to the Hummer quickly, jumping into the car as soon as they could. The air was fresher inside, but the rotting smell crept into the vehicle.
John let out a sigh. “I bet there are a couple of hundred people over there.”
“We should get to the other side of the terminal.” Solange recommended.
John put the Hummer into drive. They moved away from the garage, their eyes turned to the right, looking through the airport buildings glass walls for any clues, and averting their eyes from the mass grave that was the Manchester Parking area.
A “restricted access” sign stood on the right side of the road to the airfield at the end of the terminal building. A large metal gate swung from a pole on the right side, locking into a pole on the left. Today the gate was open.
John followed the road to the end of the terminal and out onto the tarmac. The military used armed guards in jeeps as sentries instead of gates and fences. With the people dead, the airstrip was open.
“Well, that was easy.” John commented as they drove on the tarmac side of the airport. Empty terminal gates were giant rectangular holes in the glass walls. The passenger ramps were retracted and snug against the building.
“Lucky for us, no one was left to lock the door.” She nodded.
“Lucky for us indeed.” He pointed to four large fuel trucks with white cylinder tanks on their backs. John made his way to the vehicles.
The tarmac and runway were almost clear of snow. Puddles and islands of drifts dotted the concrete landscape, but the plateau of the airport and slanted design of the runway rid the area of snow naturally.
“I got this, you stay inside. No use both of us dealing with the cold and smelly air.” He opened his door, jumped out quickly, and shut it before too much foul air could rush in.
The trucks were similar in look and shape to the one in Lebanon, but they were much larger, used for large commercial jets rather than commuter planes. John knew where to look for the fuel capacity gauge on the side of the white tanker. The gauges were not dependent on power. The first truck’s needle was between half and three-quarters full. The other three trucks were full. As he checked each truck and found fuel, he gave thumbs up. When he saw the fourth truck was full, he put both of his arms in the air and danced in circles.
He jogged back over to the Hummer and hopped in quickly. “We are set. Three full, one two thirds, plenty of fuel.”
“What was that?” Solange asked him with a frown.
“What was what?” John replied, confused.
“Your little dance. What was that?”
“Rocky Balboa at the top of the steps in Philly. It’s cool.”
“No.” She said, sitting forward in her seat. “That was a bad Rocky. You looked like Mary Tyler Moore throwing her hat in the air. It was not what a man should do.”
“You know Mary Tyler Moore but you don’t know MASH? How is that possible?”
“My father liked strong female role models. He ordered Mary Tyler Moore tapes and we watched them together.” She told him. “We still need to find a plane.”
“I know there is a plane at Logan. I hope we can find one here, but finding fuel was the key. We can figure out the plane situation. You watched Mary Tyler Moore with your father?”
“I did.” She scanned the horizon as he asked her the question. “Over there!” She pointed to a group of planes. “It looks like the military moved all of the commercial planes over there.”
John followed her finger to a grouping of planes, a dozen white jets of various sizes rested near a few brown UPS planes.
“All right, let’s go check it out.” He slipped the Hummer into drive and headed towards the parking lot of planes at the end of the main runway a quarter of a mile away. Some of the planes were parked on the grass next to the security fence. As they drove closer, they noticed the size differences. There were two enormous jets, dwarfing the others. John and Solange assumed these two were the 777’s needed for their trip. There were 8 smaller planes, the same size as the three UPS planes, parked towards the end of the fence. Seven smaller jets and turbo prop planes were further off the runway.
John pulled directly behind the behemoths.
“Three sets of wheels on each side. Exactly as Peter told us.” Solange nodded to the landing gear.
“Well, if we want to go to Hawaii, it appears we have a way to get there.” John put the Hummer in reverse, turned it around, and headed back down the runway. “Let’s get out of here. This place is a giant graveyard.”
“We can send Peter down with a group. He can see if the plane will start, and get it fueled.” She paused. “If we decide we want to go to Hawaii.”
“What’s your take on that? What do you think we should do? Should we risk our lives on a plane to get to paradise?”
Solange took a deep breath, thinking about the question. “I think so, yes.”
John gave her a quick glance. “That’s it? Yes? You are cut and dry on your opinion?”
“I am. I believe we can thrive there. There are no predators. There is food, fish, vegetables, fruit, water. It is warm. It has rain. It has sun. I believe it is a risk, but the risk is worth the reward. Peter is confident and appears capable. If the fuel works, we should go while we can.”
“I agree.” John told her. “Did you ever watch any of the survivalist shows?”
“The reality show about people voting each other off?” She asked.
“No, the ones where they would drop people, usually one guy, maybe a couple of people, in a remote location and he or they would need to survive for a few days, maybe a week. Did you ever see those?”
“The man who fought the wild?” She replied back.
“Yes, those are the shows, exactly. Anyway, whenever they are on a tropical island where it isn’t cold? It is child’s play for those people. As long as they have water, they can go forever on a tropical island. There are fish, they catch crabs, they have bananas and pineapples. It was almost a joke.” John left the runway area, travelling through the old checkpoint and back onto the public road leading out of the airport and to the highway.
“Put
that against the ones where they are stuck in Canada in the winter? There is no food, there is almost no heat, they struggle to find firewood and fuel. It’s scary to think about us trying to get through a harsh winter three of four years down the road. All of our canned or boxed food is gone, and we are relying on crops and canning, maybe hunting to feed a group of at least 22 people?” They turned out of the airport toward the highway to Boston. “Solange, I think we need to take this flight to Hawaii. I don’t think it’s a choice. In my mind, it is get to Hawaii or die in five years.”
He turned up the entrance ramp to the highway.
“As I said.” Solange told him. “I think we need to go.”
It was 7:30am as they made their way towards Boston. In just thirty minutes they had secured fuel and found two planes suitable for a flight to a Hawaiian island. The Manchester runway was clear, and their destiny would be set if the fuel worked.
“We have a few minutes.” John said to her. “How about talking about ‘us’ for the rest of the trip?”
“I enjoy the sound of ‘us.’ What would you like to discuss?”
“You don’t think the age difference is an issue?” John asked her, baffled that this beautiful woman in her twenties kissed him a half hour ago.
“I do not have many options. Your brother Todd is taken. You are the next logical choice.”
“So I’m just a consolation prize?”
Solange laughed.
“You are a strong, confident man, who rescued me from a bad situation. You are a good leader for our group, and you give off a masculine quality that I find handsome. I have never dated an older man, but I find you interesting and attractive, and I want to spend more time with you. I find myself missing you when we are apart. I did not propose to you, but I would like to explore a relationship and see where we might go.” She rested her hand on his thigh.
“I married the love of my life when I was in college. I haven’t looked at another woman since then. I do like you, and I am attracted to you, and I find myself drawn to you when we are in the same company, but you have to take it slow with me. I’m not ready for anything fast, and I want to make sure my boys are ready for me to date.”
“Of course.” Solange said. “So if I asked you to pull the car over and fold down the backseats?”
John looked at her, his head turning away from the road. She rubbed his leg higher. He lifted his foot off the accelerator and the Hummer slowed to a stop on the highway.
30 minutes later the two lay together under a LL Bean flannel duvet cover, basking in the glow of their new relationship. “So that’s what you consider taking it slow? Interesting.”
“Life is too short for slow.” She faced away from him, her naked body pressed against him. Her eyes were closed and she wore a grin. Her head was on a soft flannel pillow packed for their night in Boston. The car sat in the middle of highway 493 still running. John reached up and turned off the engine.
The sun was higher in the sky, but the outdoor temperature crept into to Hummer. Solange pulled him tightly around her to keep warm.
John was conflicted. He still wore his wedding ring, honoring his wife of over twenty years, but that life was gone. He felt a pull to Solange, a desire for her as a woman, but also for the new life she represented, a life of love, respect, and passion. He decided to enjoy the moment, to live in the now, and he squeezed her when she pulled him closer.
“Do you mind if we take a nap together? Just for a little while?” She asked him softly.
He kissed her on the back of her neck. “We have all the time in the world.”
She gave a satisfied sound and drifted off to sleep.
They awoke an hour later, making love again in the cold car under a warm flannel blanket. After a few moments of tenderness, she asked him to start the car and heat the interior so she could get dressed.
“But I’m cold too, why do I have to start the car?” He asked her, as he slipped out from under the warmth of the double flannel sheet.
“Because you are the man, and that is what men do.”
“I see how this relationship is going.” He said, pulling on his clothes as quickly as he could to escape the cold air of the car.
“I think you will do just fine.” She said from under the blanket.
He knew she was right, and he sat patiently as the inside warmed enough for her to climb out from under the covers. John watched her get dressed, looking at her body as it went from naked to wearing tight jeans and a cashmere sweater. He enjoyed watching her. Solange noticed and smiled, slowing down to let him soak it all in. She knew she was beautiful, desirable to men. She had always been, but she rarely returned affections. She was genuinely taken with this man, and she let him enjoy her however he wanted. If he liked watching her dress, she would dress slowly.
“Stop looking at me that way, unless you want to turn the car off again.” She made her way from the back seat to the front.
“I’m sorry, it’s just, you’re very pretty, and I, well.” He stammered like a teenager.
“I enjoy your gaze. I am just warning you that your gaze has consequences.”
John took a moment to compose himself. “Okay, let’s focus on our job for a moment. We need to get to Boston before dark.” He put the Hummer into drive and pushed down on the gas. The tires squealed as the truck jumped out of their parking spot. A few minutes later they were on Interstate 93 South towards Boston.
“What do you think? Philadelphia or Washington D.C.?” She asked him, referencing a dead city in ruins and an intact metropolis with survivors.
“I think Washington. Judging from all the military we just saw, I bet they had Boston under wraps. I doubt it got out of control like Philly. Who knows, maybe that’s why the military was staging up in Manchester instead of at Logan.”
“I have never been to Boston, and know little about the city. Where should we go? Is there a good spot to light a fire and signal the rest of the city?”
“It’s pretty spread out, but it’s also flat. I’ve spent some time there. We can start in Beacon Hill or Back Bay. There is a big park with ponds for ducks, maybe lighting a fire will create a scene. We’ve gotten pretty lucky the last three times we’ve looked for people. Hopefully we haven’t used up all of our luck.” He drove quickly down the highway.
“Let me know when you are hungry for lunch. Todd made a large sausage sandwich for us to share.” She drank from one of their water bottles and offered him a sip when she was done. He took the bottle and drank.
The drive from Manchester to Boston was quick. John unknowingly benefitted from the military keeping the highway clear to link the airports for troop and supply movement.
John and Solange used the car time to learn more about each other. John knew almost nothing about Ecuador. He asked about her life, her family, why she was in the U.S. to study. John wanted to know everything.
Solange was open about her life, her family’s money, her privileged up-bringing. She talked about her siblings, her parents, her country. She had a softer side, one that John had not seen, and it came out as she spoke.
Her rapture story was similar to Jamie’s. Solange was in school when the epidemic hit Brazil, and all intercontinental travel stopped. She was stuck in Richmond, Virginia at VCU, alone, separated from everyone and everything she loved.
“I’m sorry.” John said to her, putting his hand on her leg as she talked about losing her family.
“I am too.” She did not cry. “What makes me most sad, what keeps me up at night when I am not exhausted from the day, is the idea that I will never see any of it again. I will never step foot in my house. I will never see my dogs, or say hello to my Nana. I cannot play futbol with my brothers and sisters and cousins, and I will not hug my mother or father. I never got to say goodbye to anything. I was up here on an adventure, a six month trip for fun because I am a spoiled rich girl, and my decision to experience the United States at the wrong time means I lost the ability to see everything and every
one I loved ever again.”
“I think about your son Greg. He was at school, and did not get to say goodbye to his mother, or his friends, but I am one step further. I did not get to say goodbye to my homeland, my country, my continent.” She paused for a moment, sighing with a deep breath. “But I have made peace with it. I cannot change the way my life has gone. I am moving forward.” She clasped his hand, still resting on her leg. “I have found you. I have found a new family, and we will make a new home. I decided to not feel sad about my loss, to only make my thoughts of my family and home happy thoughts, to make their memories happy memories, honoring the time. I had a truly great life, and while that part is over, I can be happy it was filled with love.”
Solange’s mixture of heartache for the past and hope for the future was the norm among tribe. She had her moments of sorrow, black hours of loss and depression, but as her time with the group continued, her optimism and spirit grew.
“How old are you again?” John asked in a tone that let her know it was a rhetorical question.
“Living alone in a strange city in a strange country adds years to your maturity. When I say alone, I mean there is literally no one else.” She squeezed his hand.
Boston was on the horizon, still a few miles away, but getting larger in the windshield. There were neighborhoods on either side of the highway, and the landscape turned decidedly urban. John and Solange continued to talk until John noticed the “Copley Square/Back Bay” exit sign.
“That’s our exit.” He announced.
Solange looked to her left and saw a large monument on a hill in an open area. “What is that?” She asked. John slowed the Hummer to get a better look.
“It’s Bunker Hill.” He stopped the truck. “It’s certainly the historical choice, and it looks like it might be the highest point in the area.” He took the exit onto Route 1. John found Boston was easy to navigate when he did not have to obey the road and highway directions. Ignoring one-way streets and “do not enter” signs, they pulled up to Bunker Hill one minute later.
It was a beautiful spring day in Boston. The temperature was in the 50’s and a slight breeze came off the water. They walked up the hill to the monument, taking stock of their situation and location.
