“I thought it was the snow causing problems,” Dad looks at me while he speaks. “But now I think the satellites may be shutting down.”
Of course. The satellite designers made accommodations for prolonged communications failures. If the satellite doesn’t hear from earth for a few weeks, it shuts down and moves to a safer orbit.
“Good thing I-80 is a straight shot to San Francisco. Even I can’t get lost,” Dad says.
Chapter 21
What is it with the post-apocalypse and early mornings? If we get to San Francisco before four in the afternoon, I am going to let Dad know how bad his time planning is. There is no Internet and no landlines, so we are still in the dark as far as communicating with Mom.
Grace and Sofie shared a room with Remmie. That kid is a real trooper. He hasn’t complained about anything and even tries to help without being asked. He also has a sense of humor and laughs at some pretty random stuff. Dad, Liam and I all had our own rooms with king-sized beds. The sleep was magnificent. If Mom was not waiting for us, I would be strongly pushing to spend another night here. If the past few days have taught me anything, it’s that you never know what kind of mess you could wind up in on the road.
Just imagining Mom and her smile and her voice helped get me going, though. Getting that hug I know is waiting and sharing all the crazy things that Liam and Grace did on our trip will make me forget the pain we have endured. Last night, with a paper map and a ruler, Dad estimated that we have 900 miles to go before reaching San Francisco. After he went to bed I took the map and came up with closer to 700 miles. He is so imprecise it kills me.
Regardless of who made the better estimate, we have 7 to 9 hours of driving ahead of us today. That assumes that there will be no snow, no roadblocks and no other natural disasters. I’m riding shotgun again, and the girls were able to add some coloring books, board games and G-rated videos for Remmie. I’m hopeful for an event-free day, but I am not optimistic.
About an hour west of Salt Lake, we are in a serious mountain pass. The road conditions are fine but there are patches of snow underneath trees and in some shady spots. Fortunately the sky is clear and stunningly blue. Weather will not be a problem this morning. However, I do feel like I need to remain awake and vigilant. In the back of my mind, I recall the old stagecoaches and the origination of the term “shotgun.” It is not a stretch to think that I should have a weapon readily available to me.
“Dad, do you think I should have a gun up here?” I ask him casually so as not to alarm the passengers.
He surveys the mountains around us as if there was something there. “I suppose that makes some sense.” He pauses but I know there is more. “I don’t think it’s urgent though. Let’s wait until our little friend is asleep. Then we can have one passed up.”
Finding Nemo is still a big hit with little kids and even Liam seems to be enjoying it. They are snacking and laughing at the film. I am torn between wanting to be in the back watching movies with the kids and my pride for being up front in the true “shotgun” position. I look out the window, and my mind wanders to what we will need to get done once we arrive in San Francisco.
“Why don’t you hold off on another movie for a bit? See if anyone wants to close their eyes and rest.” Dad’s voice interrupts my thinking. I’m not sure how long I was gone, but Nemo must be over.
My vigilance out the windows returns and, after about ten minutes, Dad whispers to the back: “Liam. Can you get one of the shotguns and a handful of shells and pass them up here to Seamus?”
When having a weapon was my idea, it felt logical and smart. When Dad puts it into action, it feels scary. Did he see something or someone? I suppose that as long as he leaves his handgun in the console I should feel safe. The barrel of the shotgun pokes me in the shoulder and I reach back to bring it forward. Guns are always heavier than I expect. Next come two handfuls of shells. Couldn’t he have just sent up the box?
“Make sure you load it,” Dad says, looking out the window.
Now I am frightened again. As calmly as I can, I load all of the shells into the shotgun. I’m gripping it tightly across my lap, wary of the trigger and keeping my finger well away from it.
“Now point the muzzle to the floor, and let go of the gun.” Dad is talking in very soothing tones. He must sense my tension, “Seamus, there is nothing to be afraid of. We have clear sailing ahead.”
Famous last words, I think to myself as I lower the gun and look out the side window. Before long, I am fast asleep. Even after last night’s magnificent rest, I am in a deep slumber.
Eventually I begin to dream. Sofie and I are by the ocean. She is gardening and I am sitting on the deck of a small cottage reading a book. The sky is beautiful, the sun is warm on my face, and we are both so happy. But then commandos appear. Out of nowhere. They are rappelling down ropes from helicopters! Sofie is caught and is being forced face-down onto the ground. Now they’ve got me; I twist to get out of their grip, but it is too firm.
“Seamus, we’re coming into Reno,” I hear Dad’s voice before I open my eyes. “We’re making really good time today.”
Like every other town and city we have passed through, Reno is quiet. I don’t see any sign of life or electricity. I’m sure that the hydroelectric plants will fail eventually, but I didn’t think it would happen this soon. Maybe it’s more along the lines of a blown transformer or something breaking at the power substation.
“Are we going to stop for gas?” I ask, even though I can’t see the gauge.
“Yeah, there is a service area in a few miles. I thought we would gas up, stretch and get a little fresh air.” Dad is nodding while he speaks. I agree that it’s a good idea.
The service area has no power. From the state of the coolers, it has not been off for long; the drinks are still cold. We agree that any refrigerated food is off-limits and snack from the shelves with preservative-loaded foods. Dad is outside, working the manual pump rig. Once I get a drink and some Fritos, I’ll go out and relieve him.
Dad and Liam wind up playing a little football while Remmie plays hide-and-seek with Grace and Sofie. I’m content to operate the manual pump and watch them relax. The stop takes a lot longer than I had anticipated, but it is event free. I wonder if I’m the only one who is suddenly nervous about meeting up with Mom?
After blowing through Sacramento like it wasn’t there, we are on the San Francisco Bay Bridge. Off to my right, I catch a glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge. It is a magnificent structure. Even though it is quite common and even rudimentary technology by today’s standards, its brilliance is clear. I can see the water of the bay rushing below us. Not only designing but also building a structure that can stand up to the massive power of the ocean is a feat. Having done so in the early 1900s is beyond my comprehension.
With no phones and no navigation, I’m not sure how we are going to find Mom. Dad has a street name but not an address or directions. Did they assume that navigation would be working and it would be obvious where humans were? It’s not like we can stop and ask someone for directions.
I’m combing through the paper map we picked up in Reno. I found the street name, but getting there from the highway is not straightforward. It seems like there are 100 turns we need to make over the course of less than a mile. The sun is getting low and I can’t imagine we’ll be able to find anything here in the dark.
We get off the highway and come to a stop. The tension in the Suburban is thick. The streets are empty and we don’t have to obey the stop sign we are in front of.
“I think you can go,” Liam says from the back.
“I’m giving Seamus a minute to get his bearings and find out where we are on the map.” Dad is looking in the rear view mirror addressing the back seat driver. “You kids aren’t used to paper maps. You’ve always had navigation and touch screens. I’ll wait while you adjust.”
“I’ve got it! Up seven streets, left for three streets and then right for four more streets.” I’m not even
sure how to read out directions off of the paper map.
“Okay,” he chuckles. “Remmie, can you help the big kids count streets?”
After we start moving again I blurt out, “You’re looking for a left on 20th Street.” This feels like the right way to navigate for a driver. I think I remember he and Mom doing this when I was little.
Dad keeps slowing down as we approach stop signs. I want him to just blow through them. There is no one here and we are almost to Mom. Keep your foot on it, old man.
After we make the left, it’s as if he has heard my thoughts. The stop signs are whizzing by in a blur. We go three streets in the blink of an eye. The hard right has us all feeling as many G-forces as a Suburban can manage. I think we are back to our 100 mph average. If Mom is waiting in the street for us, we won’t be able to stop.
Dad doesn’t start to apply the brakes until after we pass the fourth street. It’s not obvious to me where Mom is staying, but maybe Dad can sense her presence? Now he’s hanging a U-turn and moving much more slowly. He pulls to the first cross street and stops, looking up and down the road. I do not want to spend a night in San Francisco without finding Mom.
We slowly roll to the next cross street and, there on the corner, in the last bit of sunshine on the street, is Mom. She is standing defiantly with her hands on her hips. Her face possesses not quite a scowl but certainly not the smile I was expecting.
We don’t know quite what to do. Why aren’t we bursting out of the truck and running to her? There should be smiles and laughter and cheering. We made it!
Dad slams the SUV into park and Grace starts the eruption. Her door flies open and her cry of “Mom!” fills the vehicle. Mom’s face breaks into a broad smile and she is running the short distance to the car while I get my door open. I manage to make up the small gap between Grace and me so that we meet in Mom’s embrace at almost the exact same moment. An instant later, Liam is on us completing our group hug and adding to the “I love you’s,” tears and laughter bubbling out of our pile.
When we finally break our embrace, I see Dad holding Sofie. From the heaving of her back I can tell that she is sobbing. There is no reunion coming for her. Seeing us with Mom and realizing that our family is reunited is a painful reminder of what she has lost.
Grace hurries over to console her and Dad takes the opportunity to greet Mom. They hug tightly and then share a long kiss. The stress is completely gone from Dad’s face and posture. We are all back together. Whatever happens from here out doesn’t matter. I doubt that we will ever separate for long again.
“You’re late,” are the first real words out of her mouth. But she’s not mad. “I’m so glad you are all okay, I have been so worried I don’t think I’ve slept in two weeks.” She’s standing and surveying all of us like we’re being inspected before the first day of school.
“Come inside! We were just wondering if we should hold dinner for a third straight night.” She’s turned and is walking toward the steps of the closest house.
Chapter 22
The house we’ve entered is like a museum, but comfortable. Strangely, it does not feel like we are squatters here. There are still family pictures up and personal effects lying around. The “we” Mom mentioned are the homeowners. She is their guest.
Whoever they are, the smell in the house matches the décor: elegant. While Grace and Sofie have kept us fed, the circumstances have not been conducive to real cooking. Here we have encountered a gourmet tour de force. If the food being prepared tastes as good as it smells, I may eat for days.
Mom walks through a door and holds it open. I enter the kitchen and am immediately struck by the warmth. My eyes scan the faces of the two women standing there. They are the two women from the family photos, a mother and her daughter is my guess. The difference from the pictures is that the younger woman looks slightly older and far more attractive than her pictures portrayed.
“Seamus! It’s so good to see you,” the mother is crossing from the stove to greet me. She embraces me in a stiff uncomfortable hug. The others are delayed from getting into the kitchen because of where she has stopped me.
I move further into the kitchen and awkwardly say “hello,” to the daughter.
As Grace and Liam come through the door, the mother’s smile remains but the enthusiasm of her greeting has come down a level. “You must be Grace and Liam,” she clumsily pats them on the back. “And this must be Paddrick.” She formally extends a hand as Dad walks in, but then allows her smile to fade.
The welcome portion of our arrival seems to be wrapping up. I find it odd that she said “nice to see you” and not “nice to meet you.” While she clearly knows who we are, there was no declaration of how much Mom has told her about us. Things feel icky but I’m not sure why.
When Dad turns to bring Sofie and Remmie into the room, you would think he was introducing a pet lion. The mother’s face goes white with shock. “
Who is this?” spews from her mouth. My family and I were not just expected: we were anticipated. Sofie and Remmie don’t fit her plan.
“I would like to introduce Ms. Sofie Lange and Mr. Remmie Colorado,” Dad says, trying to lighten the mood and spare Sofie the embarrassment of having survived the plague that killed billions. “Sofie has been with us since New Hampshire, and Remmie joined us a couple of days ago in Wyoming.”
Both mother and daughter are in shock and not moving. I’m wondering if they are really considering ostracizing two of the last nine people on the planet. Fortunately Remmie breaks the tension.
“I’m three!” he says, getting those three little fingers in the air.
“Well, aren’t you the big boy.” My Mom bends over and wiggles his fingers in a way that makes him giggle.
Grace reaches down and scoops him up. “We are so proud of Remmie! He’s such a big boy and really good at riding in the car.”
“Let me introduce you to our hosts.” Mom is trying to avoid silence. “This is Jane and Cassandra Crenshaw. They have lived in this beautiful home for the last ten years and now they are sharing it with us.”
“Enough formality, you must be starving. Let’s sit down and eat.” Cassandra has adapted faster than her mother. “I’ll just grab two more place settings for Sofie and Remmie. We can squeeze them in around Grace.”
I get why they wouldn’t be prepared for Remmie. We haven’t spoken to Mom since we found him. But Sofie has been with us since home. Mom knew about her; they had to have known there were at least five of us coming. I’m wondering if Jane and Cassandra are the only other people in this house.
Grace is carrying on about a piece of art she saw on the way in. Liam is telling Mom that we saw snow yesterday and the tension level is down, but not gone. Sofie is sitting between Grace and Dad while Remmie is on the other side of Grace, next to Liam. I’m between Dad and Cassandra in a way that feels very orchestrated.
“I’m sorry that the lamb was frozen, it was the best we could do. But the vegetables are fresh and your Mom said this is how you like your rice.” Jane is in hostess mode and, while it seems genuine, I have my doubts.
The food is exquisite. Any reservations I have about these people can wait. I need to get more into my mouth. I’m sure that we look like starved and disgusting animals, but for tonight, at least, we are given a pass on table manners. I need to take a break from eating, but not before I enjoy another piece of bread.
As I sit back to digest, Cassandra turns slightly. “So you’re into physics? How is your work coming?”
While I admit to not being the most socially savvy, this seems like a strange way to phrase her question. She should be asking me what types of things I’m working on or what I’m interested in. Her tone and word choice make it seem like she knows things I haven’t told her.
I guess the contorted look on my face gives away my confusion. Mom jumps in. “Seamus, Jane is a theoretical physicist at the NASA Ames Research Center. Cassandra is an experimental physicist with advanced degrees in mathematics
and artificial intelligence. They work together on some very interesting technologies.”
Being physicists and, in Cassandra’s case, having a super intellect explains a great deal of the odd behavior.
“I graduated from Cal Poly with a PhD. in physics at sixteen. I’ve spent the three years since working with my mother at Ames and getting my additional degrees.” Cassandra says with pride. I can tell she has been told her whole life that she is wonderful because she’s brilliant.
I want to give my Dad a hug for not letting me graduate early and become like Cassandra. Being brilliant does not make you wonderful. These are not great people because of their brains, fine artwork and creases in the napkins. They may be nice and even kind, but short of feeding us I have seen no evidence as such.
“So you both work for the government?” Sofie has placed her fork and napkin on her plate. The comment is met with an odd chain reaction of Dad putting his hand gently on her thigh, Mom staring at Dad open-jawed, and Sofie glowering at both Jane and Cassandra.
If everyone were armed, I think that there would be guns drawn. Sofie’s implication resonates with me immediately. It took a few seconds longer for Dad but he got there. Grace and Liam defer to our side of the argument without really knowing what it is.
They work for the government. They know me and my family and the power reactor technology I am working on. They survived the virus and assumed I would, too. They had to have been involved in all of it. There is no movement or speech. Assumptions are being made and conclusions being drawn. Dad looks ready to push back from the table and walk out of the house.
“I’m sorry, this is my fault.” Mom has regained her voice. “I should have communicated better. I should have understood what you all had been through before just assuming you’d be ready to sit down to a formal dinner.”
Annihilation (The Seamus Chronicles Book 1) Page 14
