by Pike, JJ
“Where are we?”
“A small town north of Albany.”
“Do we know people in Albany?”
Alice laughed. “We’re criminals, honey. We broke in.”
Maggie-loo bounded through the door and leapt onto the bed.
“No. No.” Bill held his good arm up to protect his stub. If the dog landed on him he’d be in agony for hours.
Maggie-loo backed up, nuzzled Alice, did a couple of turns, then sat and settled her head in Alice’s lap, asking for and getting pets. Mouse waddled in through the door, whining. Alice lifted him up onto the bed and cooed and ahhed and made him comfortable, too.
“You’re a dog lady, now?” Bill sipped his coffee. With any luck Alice had laced it with something and he’d be out of it again, soon.
“How’s the arm?”
Bill shrugged.
“You were screaming, thrashing, bashing yourself on the car window. I was worried you’d injure yourself. You’ve been a lot better since we got you to bed.”
She was saying “we” but Bill knew she meant “I.” Once again she’d done the impossible. She’d managed to get him out of a vehicle and into an abandoned house on her own. How would he ever repay her? He was useless on the road. When they got home, he’d find a way…make himself useful…be the one-armed Dad everyone dreamed of having…or not.
“Here’s the thing…” Her hand rested on Maggie-loo’s head. The dog nudged her a couple of times to restart the petting cycle.
“Has the wind shifted? Are we in danger of running into fallout?”
“No. We’re fine on that score.”
“But something’s wrong. Are the kids okay? Did you get through? Has something happened?”
“Bill. Honey. Chill. You’re not letting me talk. I haven’t gotten through to the kids. Just listen for a second.”
Bill put his cup on the nightstand and waited.
“I don’t think you should be moved.”
“What?”
“Even when I give you the maximum dose of painkiller, you’re in unbearable pain.”
“You’re not leaving me here.”
“I won’t be long.” She stopped stroking the dog and folded her hands in her lap like she meant business. “I can drive further and faster without you. I’ll go to our meeting place, find the kids, and we’ll be back to get you.”
“You’re not leaving me. I want to see the kids.”
“We’ll be back. You know we will. I’m not abandoning you, I’m thinking about how we get this done.”
Bill threw his legs over the edge of the bed. “No.”
“You’re not thinking straight.”
Bill grabbed the headboard and pulled himself up. Sweat poured down his sides. He couldn’t wince or gasp or suck his teeth. No excuse for her to grab on to and say, “There, see? I was right. You’re not fit to travel.”
“You’re an ass.” She smiled. “And by ‘ass’ I mean stubborn as a mule.”
“They’re my kids, too. I want to see them before I die.”
Alice’s smile fell right off her face. “You’re not going to die.”
Bill cocked his head to one side. “You don’t know that.”
“You’re not going to die. You’re going to suffer but heal. This is the worst of it. A week from now you’ll barely remember this happened.”
Bill snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“I’ve given birth to four children. The twins were tiny: 5 pounds, 6 ounces for Paul, 4 pounds, 11 ounces for Petra. They were nothing compared to Aggie and Midge. Agatha weighed almost 10 pounds. Literally, a bowling ball came out of my body. Did you hear me complain about it?”
Bill couldn’t help himself. He laughed out loud.
“Well, yes. At the time…”
She’d almost ripped his hand off during Aggie’s birth. The hand that was missing.
“I might have said a few things. Used some strong language. Screamed a bit. But not later. I never complained once it was over. They place your baby in your arms and you’re filled with oxytocin. It’s in the medical literature. It’s called the ‘halo effect’…”
“Take me home and let me hold my babies, then.” It wasn’t rocket science. His kids were everything to him. He wouldn’t have this halo effect response she was talking about, but nothing had ever been more important than seeing his children. She might not believe he was going to die of his wounds, but she wasn’t God. She couldn’t know for sure. None of them could.
“I…” Alice searched for words. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, my love.”
“I don’t know why we’re hanging around talking about this. We’re losing time. I know what the dangers are and I’m willing to accept the consequences of my actions.”
“We’re going to make your injuries worse.”
“I don’t care if the journey kills me. I’d rather die with my kids than live an extra day out here on my own.”
Alice’s mouth flapped like a fish on a line. He couldn’t leave her hanging like that. He lay his hand on her shoulder. “They’re my world.”
“Mine too.”
It wasn’t true. Alice loved her work almost as much as she loved the kids. He couldn’t say that to her. It’d be too unkind. He had to go at this a different way. “Your argument isn’t logical.”
Alice stood and put his good arm over her shoulder. “Go on, then. Dazzle me with your insight.”
“If you have to come back and get me, I still make the trip, only with the kids in the van.”
Alice laughed. Because he was right, not because he was wrong. “But we’d all be heading to freedom. We’d be together.”
“You will not want to double back. That’s insane. Everyone’s going west for a reason.”
They hobbled through the house and down the front steps, dogs at their feet.
“Indian Point…” She was changing the subject. It was a kindness. Bill was grateful. “It’s such a terrible shame. They can’t do what those brave souls did at Chernobyl.”
“Oh?” He tried to match her breezy tone, but it was almost impossible now that his blood had been exchanged for microscopic, but extremely sharp daggers.
“MELT’s in the mix. It’ll strip their protective gear off their backs.” Alice opened the passenger side door.
The dogs didn’t need to be prompted. They were in and settled before Bill had even grabbed the arm rest.
“They’re going to have to come up with a solution that involves no plastic.” She stood still so Bill could use her as a leaning post. “That means no vehicles, no planes, no drones.”
“And no humans.”
“No humans?”
“Some people are being attacked by MELT or did I misunderstand what Christine was saying?” He’d managed a whole sentence without passing out. She had to believe he was fit for travel now.
“No humans.” She nodded. “Though…”
Bill hoisted himself into the seat. His arm throbbed in time with his heart. He’d fantasized about chopping it off, but that would only create a new stump. He wished himself dead, but then he’d never see his kids again. He offered his soul up to any takers again, but they all knew he was joking on that score. Eternity was a long time. He didn’t really want to be cast out. Modern jokes about swapping your soul for a bag of gold were all good and well in books and films, but no believer he knew would make that trade. He was just going to have to wait it out. One of them was going to be right: he’d live or die. There wasn’t an in-between option.
Alice had shifted, energetically, while he’d been thinking about heaven and hell. She wasn’t impatient exactly, but she was doing little things to speed him along: futzing with the seatbelt before he was ready, pushing his feet into the footwell, patting him like he was one of her newfound dog friends.
“What?”
She slammed the door. “Nothing.”
“I know you. You’re thinking.”
Alice hopped around the front of the car. Was she grinning?
“You think it’s a good idea.”
She didn’t answer.
“Tell me. I’m still good as a sounding board, if nothing else.”
“You said it.” She started the car.
“I did?” He was pretty sure he hadn’t said anything that would make her smile like a Cheshire Cat. At least not in the last 72 hours.
“Some people are reacting to MELT.”
Bill waited. She’d fill in the gaps. Because that wasn’t good news in his book.
“Some people are not.” She turned onto the road.
She’d taken them deep into suburbia. There should have been yuppies on expensive bikes, keeping their heart rates up; moms—strike that—dads with strollers; people hanging out in the park (if it was a weekend; Bill had no clue what day it was). But the roads were clear, the parks empty, the sidewalks abandoned. There wasn’t a human in sight.
“Once we reach the main road we’ll pull over so I can call Fran.”
“That good, huh?”
“One thing working with scientists has taught me is that you can’t truly know if an idea is good or not until you’ve tested it out.”
“But this one is worth testing?”
“I think so.”
“Come on, spill. Let’s talk as if it’s not the end of the world. We can pretend it’s the end of the day instead. An ordinary day. A day like we used to have…” He took a deep breath. Talking ramped up his pain. His ribs moving jiggled his stump. But he wanted Alice to tell him what was on her mind. It clearly had her excited. “You just got home from work. The kids have either gone to bed or are off amusing themselves. You’ve been talking to Michael or Christine or, worse yet, Bossman Jake has given you another impossible task.” That was what their life had been like. She would come home and unload her troubles and triumphs and he’d pump her up and prep her for the coming day. “There’s something on your mind…” She was going to need to pick up the conversational slack or he was going to pass out.
“Indian Point’s on fire.”
Thank goodness. She was talking. Bill let his shoulders relax just a little. He felt his spine meet the back of his chair. He hadn’t known he’d been arching his back.
“There’s radioactive waste pouring into the air.” She took a left. The road was clear. “It sits on water, so radioactive particles are in the water, too. I always said it was in a terrible location.”
Somewhere in the distance a car alarm was blaring. Alice slowed, but didn’t stop. Each turn she made was to take them further from that noise.
“They’re going to need to secure it on all sides, but none of our equipment can do the job. Have you guessed at my solution yet?”
Bill hadn’t been thinking. He’d been letting her words flow over him. It was so soothing not to have to do anything; not even think.
“We find the people who are immune to MELT and send them in.”
Bill laughed. Not for long, because his ribs wouldn’t allow it, but long enough for her to know he thought her idea was bananas.
“Isn’t it a great idea?” She was triumphant. She wasn’t joking. She meant it. She was cuckoo.
“Who would do that?”
“Paul.” She didn’t hesitate. She’d let her own son walk into a lethal situation.
Bill did his best to pull himself together. They weren’t that far from home. He didn’t want her walking in and telling the kids that they were supposed to sign up for a suicide mission.
“He’s always said he’d walk through fire to save those who couldn’t save themselves. It’s his raison d’être.”
Bill hadn’t paid much attention to Paul’s “hero” talk. He thought it just that: talk. Alice seemed to think it was a real thing. Surely if it was his “raison d’être” as she called it—if Paul had convinced himself he needed to sacrifice his own life to save someone else’s—it was their job to convince him to do the opposite. Of course, he was his mother’s son and far closer to her than he’d ever been to Bill, so he’d probably told her more about his heart than he’d told his dad. She was probably right. Paul would risk his own life to save another’s.
Not just anyone’s life. One life in particular.
Bill realized with a jolt that he’d allowed Paul to come with him to Manhattan for all the wrong reasons. He’d wanted a wing man, whereas Paul wanted to save his mother.
It all boiled down to that.
They wanted to save Alice.
All of them.
All the time.
That wasn’t a conversation to have in a car in the middle of Normalville, New York. That was something to talk about when they were next on their therapist’s couch.
“You don’t like it? My idea? You think it’s faulty?”
What did you say to your wife when you thought she had lost it? Not that. It’d make her dig her heels in.
“Fine,” The joy was gone from her voice, just like that. “I’ll run it past Fran. We’ll see what she has to say on the matter.”
Damn. She’d already hardened her position.
“I don’t know enough about the situation on the ground to have an opinion one way or the other,” said Bill.
She shot him a look. Cold as ice and twice as damning. “What do we need to know? There’s a crisis. People are dying. More will die if we don’t do something.”
“Yes, but Paul…why does it have to be him? Surely there are experts. People whose job it is…”
Alice pulled over, retrieved her phone and hit redial. “Fran?”
“Oh, I am so glad it’s you. We’re back to screaming and crying and finger pointing. We’re going to have to move her to her own car if she can’t quiet down.”
“You should have done that an hour ago,” said Alice. “She’s the top brain in the pack. Treat her that way.”
Fran didn’t answer.
“Update?”
“We have nowhere to go. The military men are spinning. They haven’t said that, but I think we’re actually driving in circles while they work out where to house us.”
“Go to our place.”
“No,” said Bill. He reached for the phone, but all Alice needed to do was lean towards her window and she was out of reach.
“Your house in New Paltz? It’s inside the zone. Everywhere south of the line is crawling with people who have contracted MELT. I mean the disease associated with MELT. Oh, whatever. They’ve got it.”
“Then use the cabin. Go to our cabin.”
Bill unbuckled his belt and lunged at Alice. She put her hand on his arm. His bad arm. His mostly missing arm. His throbbing, stabbing, aching, death-dealing arm. No pressure was too much pressure. If she squeezed he’d fall down and pass out.
Her eyes were hard as diamonds, her beauty freezing him out instead of drawing him in. She’d do it. He had not a shred of doubt. She’d hurt him in order to save a bunch of strangers.
“Please,” he whispered. “What if the kids haven’t bugged out? What if they’re still there? We don’t want strangers in our cabin. We don’t have enough…”
Fran was babbling on the other end of the phone, saying how grateful she was and how amazing Alice was and how this was going to save their lives.
“Don’t let them go there…” He was begging.
“It’ll give you a place to land and organize yourselves.”
Alice waited while Fran talked to someone else on the other end of the line.
Bill had this small window in which he could convince his wife that this was a terrible idea. She still had her hand on his bad arm. He was under her thumb. Literally. He couldn’t let that stop him from speaking his mind. “Your team could do what we did. Break into a house. Any house. All the houses. Why would you tell them to go to ours?”
“If we don’t do our duty, who will?” She was angry now, the flush creeping up from her neck to her cheeks.
“But we worked so hard…”
“We did. Which is why our children will be out of there. They listened.
They’re safe. Fran can go to the cabin, recharge, and the team can begin the real work of halting MELT.”
“You’re going to go back to them.”
“Alice?” Fran was back on the line. “Your place is perfect. Close enough to the disaster that our people can collect samples if they need to, but far enough away that we’ll be clear of the fallout. At least in the short term. We should be there in four or five hours. Thank you. Truly…” Fran was crying into her phone.
