Fight to Live

by Dave Bowman

  “Chris?”

  This time, it was no longer a joyous cry. It was a plea.

  Her footsteps were heavy on the wooden floorboards as they carried her to the bedroom. The door was closed. She whispered his name one more time, then pushed it open.

  He was on the bed. His body lay shriveled and twisted, long since passed on.

  She was sobbing, or maybe screaming. She was on the floor, and then suddenly Trina was there. Trina was saying something to her, but Jessa couldn’t hear. She felt hands pulling on her shoulders, urging her to get up, and she finally yielded to their pull.

  Then she was outside, back in the bright sunlight. Trina was still saying something to her, but Jessa just couldn’t focus on the words.

  He was gone, and she was lost.

  27

  Nick had led the convoy to lower country as they traveled along the northern New Mexico highways. They arrived at Espanola and could only see the glow of the forest fire in the distance to the west. He had chosen the northern, more mountainous, route to Interstate 25 to save time. It was still dark out – his watch showed the time to be 2:30 a.m.

  Matt, driving his father's Ford truck behind Nick, flashed his lights, and Nick pulled over to the side as Matt drove up beside him.

  Bethany rolled her window down and called out to him. "My back's killing me. Can we find a house to rest in for a few hours before we continue? Preferably a house with a bed not taken up by a dead body."

  Nick scanned the horizon. He fought back regret over bringing the rest of them with him. Sure, they would slow him down, but maybe it was for the best. Even he could use some rest before facing what awaited him in Denver. After all, his only sleep had been a few fleeting moments while on the night watch.

  They turned into a residential neighborhood in the small town. Nick and Charlie tried three houses before they came across one that was free of rotting corpses. Bethany, Liz, and Mia sleepily piled into the king-sized bed in the master bedroom, Charlie took the second bedroom, and Matt and Nick each claimed a sofa in the living room.

  Still wide awake and alert from the excitement of the night, Matt told Nick everything – how his family had died, the horrible loneliness of the empty house, the deserted city except for a mountain lion that almost had him for lunch. He told of the close encounter he had with the drug addicts in Texas, and how he had come across Bethany in Abilene.

  Nick listened closely to his nephew's tale. It seemed Matt had done a lot of growing up in just two weeks. He knew it had been difficult to set out on the journey alone for the boy, but Nick was impressed with how well he had done. He was happy to have Matt along on the journey, and he counted him as an invaluable asset.

  Most of all, Nick was glad to see a familiar face. He saw his own brother in the boy's features. Though his brother and his nephew had different personalities, Nick saw a part of Tim living on in Matt. It gave him comfort.

  Matt finally grew tired and drifted off to sleep. Nick turned over on his plush sofa.

  His thoughts turned to the lodge, which was no doubt burned to ashes by now. The house his grandfather had built held so many memories from the past for him. The summers spent at that lodge with his family had shaped him, made him who he was. And he had brought his own family there to create new memories. It had represented everything he hoped for in the future. The place had always felt like home to him, had given him hope.

  Now it was gone, wiped off the face of the earth.

  He would have to find hope somewhere else, he thought to himself as he became drowsy.

  Sunlight streaming through the cracks in the mini blinds woke Nick. He stood up stiffly and walked to the window. The three trucks were just as they had left them the night before, and the town outside was quiet and still.

  No one else was awake, so he walked to the kitchen and poked around for some food. His appetite returned as he spotted some peanut butter and crackers, and he tore into them.

  As he ate, he looked at some family photographs on the refrigerator. A teenage boy and his parents smiled in the pictures, frozen in time. He wondered where the family had died. Had they been on vacation when the virus hit? Had they fled to the mountains when people started getting sick?

  Tacked up on a bulletin board were grocery lists, notes home from school, a wedding invitation from someone who was probably long dead. Nick swallowed his food and looked away.

  So many had been lost, and a way of life had gone with them. The virus had claimed almost everyone, sparing such a small percentage. Why had it happened this way? Why had he been among those to survive?

  The endless questions haunted him. He pushed them away – there were no answers to those questions.

  A shuffling noise behind him got his attention. He turned around to see Liz hobbling in the kitchen.

  “I wanted to say thank you for getting me out of the woods last night. I wouldn’t have been able to get out in time on my own,” she said, looking down at her leg. “That’s twice you saved me.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he said, rummaging through the kitchen.

  Liz stared at him. “I’m sorry about the lodge. I know it meant a lot to you.”

  Nick glanced at her. “It did. And I wish we could have carried more supplies with us. But I’m glad we got out of there alive.”

  “You and me both. That fire was terrifying.”

  An image of the wall of flames advancing on them as they ran through the forest flashed in his mind. The terrified look on Mia’s face as a burning limb fell in front of her, the suffocating smoke and heat. The memories were seared in his mind forever.

  He turned back to look at Liz, who was also lost in thought, remembering the horrors of the night before. “Hey, how do scrambled eggs sound for breakfast?”

  Liz’s eyes went round. “You found eggs here? Are they still good?”

  Nick nodded. “It looks like this family kept their eggs outside the refrigerator. You can do that with unwashed farm eggs. They still have the protective cuticle to keep the bacteria out for at least a couple of weeks.”

  “Which is the only kind of eggs any of us will probably ever eat again,” Liz added. She looked at the gas stove. “And the stove still works?”

  “Sure does. And there’s some biscuit mix too. Ever make skillet biscuits?”

  Liz grinned. “No, but I'm about to learn. I’ll get started on the biscuits. I’m sure the smell will wake everyone up.”

  Liz’s prediction came true, and soon everyone was up and enjoying breakfast around the kitchen table.

  After breakfast, Nick and Matt refueled the vehicles with gas scavenged from abandoned cars in the neighborhood while the others packed up the food they found in the pantry. They returned to the vehicles, well fed and recharged.

  They had three trucks full of supplies. Nick wished it were more – he knew how fast the food and water would disappear with several people consuming them. And he cringed thinking of all the tools they’d had to leave behind. All the work put into the garden, the dangers they’d faced just to get topsoil, the firewood they had sawed and split. All of it was gone. Worry was pressing down on him, but he tried to shrug it off for the time being.

  One thing at a time.

  Now, they had to bring Jessa back, wherever she was.

  With no traffic on the roads, they made it to Interstate 25 in good time. Liz’s leg was doing better today, and she took turns driving with Matt and Bethany. Nick kept his eyes peeled for Jessa’s light green truck blazing down the highway, but he saw no other traffic.

  Just south of Colorado Springs, they found another empty home to rest, eat, and refuel. Bethany took a short nap in the bedroom, then waddled back outside where the others waited.

  “Good as new!” she proclaimed as she stepped out onto the front porch with one hand on her round belly, her ringlets bouncing as she walked. She frowned to see the patio table covered in guns and boxes of ammo. “What’s going on out here?”

  “Just cleaning our weapons,�
� Nick said.

  “That’s quite an arsenal,” she said.

  “Yeah, well, we need it these days,” he replied, picking up the revolver Mia’s father had owned. “And you need to learn to shoot this. Just in case. If you’re OK with carrying this revolver, I think the rifle might be better for Liz to handle.”

  Bethany nodded. “That’s fine with me. But why? We’re not going to get into any firefights, are we?”

  “I’m not expecting any, but you can never be too sure,” Nick said, grabbing some goggles and ear protection that he had fortunately remembered to pack the night before. “If anything happens, you just duck and hide. But you need to have a handgun in case you need to protect yourself at close range.”

  He took Bethany through a pared-down gun training mini-session in the back yard. Nick didn’t intend on Bethany having to use a gun, but he figured she should be able to protect herself if it came to that. She fired just two shots – they didn’t want to waste bullets. Nick surmised she would need some practice to improve her accuracy, but it was better than nothing.

  Liz tried out the rifle scavenged from Juniper Pass. She had already become competent with Nick’s rifles, and this one was similar to the AR-15 she had shot before, so it wasn’t much of a learning curve for her. After firing a few practice rounds across the yard and proving she was accurate and reliable with the new firearm, they were ready to go.

  They loaded up all the guns and ammo and got back on the road, headed north through the beautiful foothills of the Rocky Mountains.

  They were just a half hour from the southern suburbs of Denver by early afternoon. Nick found himself relieved to have had a relatively easy trip since leaving Jemez Springs. So far, everything had gone off without a hitch.

  Now they just had to loop around the city and head west to Chris’s cabin, where he hoped to find Jessa with a simple explanation for why she had taken so long. They would all share a laugh over the simple misunderstanding, then the four-truck convoy would return south to New Mexico.

  28

  Jessa felt a warm mug carefully being pressed into her hands.

  “Drink it.”

  Without looking down at the steaming cup, she did as she was told. She brought the rim to her mouth and slowly sipped a bit of the hot, sweet liquid.

  “Hot cocoa always makes everything a little better.”

  Jessa didn’t respond.

  She was sitting on the ground, leaning against a tall lodgepole pine. She took another sip of the liquid. It was piping hot, and she appreciated how it gave her something to focus on.

  “Your friend had a little cook stove in there. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Jessa looked at the woman standing above her and blinked a few times.

  It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Everything was wrong.

  “Hey, I know what you’re going through. I lost my three sweet, beautiful kids. My husband, he was my best friend. They were my whole world. There was a day or two I thought I was going out of my mind. Maybe more.”

  She squatted down, bringing her face level with Jessa’s. She brushed the hair out of Jessa’s face and tucked it behind her ear. “You’re going to be just fine.”

  She sat down next to Jessa, and they both leaned against the tree, watching the dappled sunlight dancing on the ground.

  “Come on, it’s morning. It’s time to go. We need to get out of here.”

  Trina pulled Jessa to her feet from where she had been lying on the sofa in the living room. Blinking the grogginess out of her heavy eyes, she realized she had been asleep. Jessa shook her head and, once standing, twisted out of her grasp.

  “No, I’m not leaving like this,” Jessa muttered. “I’m not ready yet.”

  “You’re not ready yet?” Trina asked, exasperated. “We’ve spent a whole night here already.”

  Jessa’s stubbornness stepped in and made her return fully to her senses. She wasn’t going to be persuaded to do something she didn’t want to do.

  “Jessa, I don’t think it’s safe here. We need to just get out of Colorado,” Trina said.

  “I’m not leaving him lying in there,” she said.

  “He’s not lying in there anymore,” Trina said, glancing at the back bedroom. “I had to drag him out of here – all by myself, I might add. You wouldn’t respond to anything last night. You totally lost it. So I had to get that smell out of here so I could sleep on the other couch.”

  Jessa blinked, getting her bearings, and looked out the window. “Well, I’m sorry you had to do that alone. And thank you for looking out for me. I appreciate that. But I can’t leave him to rot in the front yard like that.”

  “You want to bury him?” Trina asked, lifting an eyebrow. “That would take way too long. And we need to get to a safer place as soon as possible.”

  Trina tried to grab Jessa’s arms again and lead her back toward the truck. “Come on, I’ll drive, OK?”

  Jessa yanked her hands back, irritated. “I told you, I’m not ready yet. I need to dispose of his body. Besides, there are too many good supplies here to just leave behind. I’m going to pack up the truck with what’s left of his food and tools.”

  “Are you serious?” Trina asked, her eyes narrowing. “That’ll take all day. Maybe two days. Do you want to stay another night here?”

  “I don’t know. It’ll take how long it takes. If it means staying another night, so be it.”

  “You’re crazy, Jessa. What if someone finds us out here? What if those gangs control this area?”

  “Trina, we’re in the middle of nowhere,” Jessa said with an edge to her voice. “No one’s going to find us out here. That’s exactly why Chris came here when the virus was raging.”

  Trina stomped her foot out of frustration, crossed her arms across her chest and sighed forcefully.

  “You’re free to go if you want,” Jessa said. “You can take Chris’s GMC.”

  Trina closed her eyes shut for a moment, then opened them to look at Jessa impatiently. “I’m not driving out of here alone.”

  “Fine,” Jessa said. “Then you can wait while I do what needs to be done.”

  Trina sighed again. “What can I do to make this go faster?”

  Jessica shoved her hands in her pockets and looked around the property. “Gather up some dry sticks and branches from around this yard and take them over to that campfire ring there.” Jessa pointed to the circle of stones in the back.

  “Why?”

  Jessa averted her eyes. “Because Chris once told me he wanted to be cremated.”

  She took a deep breath, then walked over to where Trina had dragged her friend’s body, wrapped in a sheet. Without taking a moment to pause, she grabbed the body and began to drag the heavy weight, moving him to the ground beside the fire pit.

  She helped Trina find some more kindling, and she arranged it all in the pit. Then she dragged the body on top as Trina watched.

  Jessa lit a stick of resinous pinyon pine with a match, then used the burning stick to light the funeral pyre in several places. They stood silently, watching the body gradually catch fire.

  I’m sorry, Christopher, Jessa thought. I’m sorry you didn’t make it. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I felt about you long ago.

  The women watched the orange flames rise up into the afternoon, then they turned away. Jessa sat down on the other side of the yard, keeping an eye on the fire. She didn’t want to watch the body smolder, however, and she was careful not to look directly at it.

  Within two or three hours, there wasn’t much more than a pile of coals and ashes left. Jessa watched as the fire died down.

  She doused what remained of the wood coals with a bucket of water, brushing back a few tears. Then she got to work.

  Seeing Chris’s things in the interior of the cabin brought tears to her eyes once more. She still couldn’t believe he was gone, but she had to pull herself together. She knew that Trina was right – it would be safer to return to New Mexico as quickly as possible
. But she wanted the trip to count for something. Chris would want her to make use of his food and gear.

  Trina followed Jessa inside, and they took a quick inventory of the food supply. The food stores alone would be enough to nearly fill her truck. Jessa would have to choose the most nutritious foods to take along. Moving on to the gun safe, she swung open the unlocked door to find a shotgun, two rifles, and plenty of ammo.

  Jessa looked at Trina. “Do you know how to shoot a gun?”

  Trina chuckled. “Never even touched one.”

  Jessa grabbed some eye and ear protection and the two rifles and gestured for Trina to follow her outside. “It’s time you learned.”

  Jessa gave her a quick rundown of how to operate the firearm. She led Trina over to Chris’s little makeshift shooting range. Jessa stood beside her, coaching her before Trina fired for the first time. The shot echoed around the quiet mountains. She stumbled back from the recoil.

  Trina’s face lit up under her shooting glasses as she turned to Jessa without lowering the gun. “Ooh, I like that!”

  “Don’t point the gun at me,” Jessa chided, carefully pushing the rifle back around toward a safe direction. “Remember, always keep it pointed down until you’re ready to fire. Got it?”

  Trina nodded. “Can I shoot again?” She asked loudly to be heard through the earmuff.

  Jessa gave a sharp nod. She was surprised to see that Trina was a decent shot, and she watched as she fired off several more rounds. At least Trina would be able to fire the rifle in case of emergency.

  After the improvised gun training session, they returned the firearms to the cabin.

  Jessa found the keys to the tool shed and walked outside to do a quick inventory. It was well-stocked – just a cursory glance revealed chainsaws and spare parts, a couple of axes and a splitting maul, landscaping and gardening tools. Chris’s toolbox was filled with useful items, and various automotive tools, parts, and fluids were stashed on the shelves. Inside the cabin, there was outdoor gear, quality knives, plus all the guns and ammo and food stores. Plus, she could probably find some medical supplies somewhere.