by Eli Constant
“You should announce yourself properly then.” I didn’t lower my gun until his face was fully illuminated by dawn light. He looked awful.
“How’s your arm?” I asked. Jason was holding it gingerly against his side and grimaced at my question.
“I’ll have one hell of a bruise, but it’s not broken.”
“You’re really lucky.” I holstered my sidearm. Jason was nice-looking in a rugged outdoorsman way, but right now his blood spattered body matched his dark red goatee and that was enough to kill any glimmer of attraction.
“I know.” Jason took another step toward me, his mouth opened as if he wanted to say more.
But I looked away from him to gaze back at the remains of the fire and what was left of the beastie’s skeleton.
Megan bombarded me with questions when I returned to the tent. I gave her the briefest of G-rated explanations. Thankfully, the morning light was still quite dim (further shadowed by the tent material) and the state of my body and clothes were not too visible. That made the lies–by-omission, easier.
When I’d satisfied her curiosity, I told Megan to close her eyes and try to rest another hour or so. She obeyed, tucking herself in next to her much smaller sibling, who was still snoozing happily. And I smiled—I knew she was the reason that Kara slept so soundly, locked away in dreams without monsters.
I shook my head, trying to pull myself completely from violence and back into the softer role of motherhood. Sometimes I felt my brain would implode and I’d be stuck somewhere in the middle: a bipolar, beastie-killing, off-my-rocker mommy.
Outside the tent, I used some of the not potable water from a community bucket to take a quick whore’s bath. Then my mind turned to the pressing matter of moving forward. I’d warn everyone before leaving. I owed these people that much.
After hearing about the night’s events, the rest of camp chose to plan and move out in a few days. Not me. In an absolute frenzy, I packed gear and made ready to hit the road. It was bittersweet to leave the other humans, to abandon the sense of community. I didn’t feel safe anymore though, despite the company.
Besides, all but one of the campers had slept through last night’s ordeal. I really didn’t think that this assemblage would qualify under the mantra ‘strength in numbers’.
As I was surveying the camp for any forgotten gear, Jason approached me.
“Not waiting for the others?” His question was heady with concern. Not a particular concern, I thought, but instead the general concern we all feel for any human without group support. Or maybe I was reading him wrong. The way he looked at me, there was a twinkle of something else in his eyes. He’d washed up a bit too, changed his clothes. I hadn’t been wrong… he did clean up nicely.
“Do you really think it would benefit me to wait around on a group of people that are choosing to wear blinders? We were attacked last night. This camp will probably be targeted again.” I moved my hands, rested them on my hips. I challenged him to contradict me.
“They’re idiots for sticking around. I won’t deny that, but it’s not smart to just go off on your own.” His hands were in the air, gesturing and pleading.
“We’ve done fine for a long time. We’ll keep doing fine. We don’t need more people to worry about.” I strode away before he could respond, closing the gap to the van where Megan and Kara were waiting. I picked Kara up. “Go ahead and get in Megan.”
Walking to the back of the vehicle, the hatch still lifted, I laid Kara down on a thin blanket. I pulled a diaper out of a beaten-up cardboard box and changed her; just a tinkle, so it was quick. We were running low on nappies again though. That would be a problem soon. I made short work of buckling Kara into her seat and then made sure Megan was properly latched in beside her.
Returning to the rear of the van, I got the dirty diaper. We were parked on soil now, not rock, so I made short work of digging a small pit with my hand trowel and burying the diaper. I watched Jason out of my peripheral vision. He stood quietly, leaning against a tree with a backpack and two medium duffels resting at his feet.
I was just climbing into the driver’s seat, my eyes looking at the state of my poor shoes which I hadn’t been able to get clean, when Jason lightly grabbed the hand I had rested on the door handle. He moved fast and quietly. That made me nervous.
“It’s not smart to travel alone. Your girls need more than just you for protection.” Same meaning, different words.
And that pissed me off. Had the world not outgrown chauvinistic bullshit?
“I’ve managed just fine so far.” I had to admit that he’d struck a nerve though. My brain poked at me: ‘see, you can’t do this alone, you need help’. I wanted to scream—at both Jason and my mind. “And take your hand off me. The only man allowed to touch me died six months ago.”
Jason withdrew his hand quickly and redness spread up his neck and leaked into his cheeks. His eyes downcast, he apologized, rubbing the back of his neck roughly.
“I’m sorry. I’ll come with you.” It wasn’t a question. Presumptuous jerk.
“I. Don’t. Need. Help.” I enunciated every word, stressing my point beyond misunderstanding.
“Yes, you do.” And before I could turn the ignition and throw it into drive, Jason had fast-walked around the front of the van and was sliding onto the front passenger’s seat with his three bags. I stared in astonishment.
“Get the hell out of my van!” I took my hand off the gearshift and planted my foot solidly on the brake.
“No thanks.” He shrugged.
He was bigger than I was, but my stubborn streak was as strong as they come.
We volleyed back and forth several insults and threats. I’m sure it could have gone on for hours, but it was mid-morning and there was no way I was delaying getting on the road. And I had to stop the witty exchange for another reason too. It reminded me of playful arguments with my husband. Oh, David. My body ached with missing him. Sometimes, the sharp pains in my chest were so bad that it was like a heart attack that would never finish the job.
I felt my anger slipping away, melting into resignation.
“That’s all your gear?” I glanced dubiously at the small store of items.
“I travel light. Clothes,” he pointed at the small backpack. “and guns.” He indicated the two duffels. That explained the odd way shapes were pushing against the cloth of those bags.
“So, you never get hungry?” I quirked an eyebrow.
“I can normally find a pretty lady to do her womanly duty and provide something for me.” His grin was boyish.
“You won’t like my cooking.” I paused, and then took a deep breath. So much for not taking a chance on strangers. “Jason, right?” The question exited my mouth as I simultaneously removed my foot from the brake and shifted into drive. If this man was going to be a permanent tagalong, may as well make sure I had his name right.
Jason nodded his head with a lopsided grimace. “Always hated the name—named after an Uncle who was a complete ass.”
“Name suits you then.” My turn to grin; the anger was completely gone now. He feigned shock. “Well, Jason, meet Megan and Kara.” I pointed to each girl in turn. “I’m Elise and we’re headed to Canada.”
I eyed Jason’s weapon duffels again. I only had one box of bullets left for the sidearm. The knife was looking less than fresh. New toys would… come in handy.
Bridge to the Inn
I promised my girls we'd see the Natural Bridge in Virginia.
It was stupid and frivolous to promise such a thing, but there'd been a sign for it. 72 miles. A photo of a breathtaking rock arch reaching towards the clouds. I'd offered the stop on impulse. I'd offered it to see joy ignite in my daughters' small faces. I offered it so we could carve out a potentially-peaceful time away from the awful reality we lived in. I knew that it could compromise our survival and a short pleasure stop was little recompense for hours of car sitting, for the fear that never stopped raging in our stomachs, for the way our throats ach
ed for unlimited water. But it was something. And even the tiniest modicum of fun was good enough nowadays. Sometimes, when you live in a perpetual cycle of shit upon shit, you decide taking a chance on a piece of heaven is worth risking a walk into hell.
I eyed Jason. His face in quiet repose was attractive, masculine. My gut, and my gut was normally spot-on, told me he was safe. That I could trust him. I hoped my intuition was still accurate.
He'd driven for several hours and was now dozing in the passenger's seat. I had to admit, I'd already benefited from our union. It was beyond nice to have a second adult for driving duty. It eased the permanent ache in my neck and shoulders to be able to stretch out, to close my eyes, to know the road still passed beneath our vehicle taking us closer to Canada and the hope of a true safe haven. I wondered where we might be now, had I earlier attached myself to another survivor with more know-how than I held within my singular brain.
Perhaps my girls would already be sleeping beneath a roof, on a soft bed, covers gathered about their little bodies.
Hindsight. 20-20. I need to stop myself from looking back and judging what I've done to get to this point. I can't change the choices I've made. I can only move forward, with this man now at my side.
"Jason." I spoke softly, so as not to wake the girls who were also napping. It surprised me to see Megan's eyes closed. She normally stayed awake with me throughout the day. Perhaps having Jason around was also easing the burden she carried--of comforting her sister and being strong for me. So grown up, for such a little lovely thing.
He must have only been half-asleep because he shifted in his seat and answered immediately. "Yeah?"
"We're almost there."
"K." He stretched, putting his palms on the back of his head and pulling it forward. His neck cracked loudly. His eyes closed again and then opened once more. I watched him, my peripheral vision able to study him discreetly.
After leaving the Virginia campground, Jason and I had talked a little--not about ourselves, but about where we were going. He'd tried several times to draw me into a more intimate conversation, to ask if we had any family that might have survived, to ask if I was a single mother, but I'd always sidestepped the efforts. He may have finagled his way into my life, but I didn't have to fully embrace it.
I also couldn't bring myself to voice that, yes, I was a single mother now.
Useful discussions only... at least for the time being. That I could emotionally handle.
The road passed swiftly beneath the van. The sunshine was warm, bouncing off the dark-colored dash to fill the space around me.
As soon as I'd realized one of the coordinates led to Canada, I'd remembered Bear Cave. My dad had taken me there when I was a kid, six years old maybe. The scenery had been absolutely breathtaking, the landscape clothed in wild plants and grazing animals. He'd taught me to build a fire then and we'd caught a large fish. I'd been too grossed-out to descale and bone it myself. Dad had smiled, prepared the glassy-eyed meal whose gills had finally stopped rising and falling in the throes of death. We'd been careful fishing. Spawning season. We'd caught and released five salmon before landing a large walleye. We could have eaten the salmon, but my Dad had wanted me to understand that humans shouldn't stand in the way of nature, that we were caretakers of the world.
I wondered how he'd feel now, if he were alive. Should we not stand in the way of the undergrounders? Should we allow them to do what comes... naturally to them?
The recollections of my childhood visit to Bear Cave are muddled, filtered through a child's perception. As an adult, I did not trust the rose-hued glasses of my youth.
So I'd rely on the man beside me, this stranger, to guide us across the border and I'd continue hoping that the preserve I had in the back of my head was still the vision I held so dear. Jason was a tad skeptical, wisely wary. His words were never dismissive or condescending though. He did not shatter my hope with impeachable logic. I liked him better for the care he took with my frayed psyche.
And as it turned out, Jason knew quite a bit about the Yukon Territory. So, I now knew we'd want to avoid the hot springs. The undergrounders weren't huge on water, but give them a boiling mineral bath and their aversions became their amusements. I didn't know this from experience, but I was willing to bank on Jason's knowledge.
He'd also said the Fishing Branch River would provide lucrative nourishment and we could trail it between mountain ranges towards Alaska if Canada didn't work out. Bears might pose a problem, but he said they were damn good eating. The more he spoke and filled my head with new information, the more I began to feel that I'd been wrong this whole time. I should have embraced strangers as we'd met. Maybe we'd be better off now instead of still traveling along the road scavenging for food and surviving by the skin of our teeth.
Again, pesky hindsight raked over my mind, stoking the coals that told me I wasn't enough to keep my children healthy and alive.
I gripped the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles going white. Jason could be gone tomorrow. I had to stay confident. So maybe I didn't know the Canadian landscape intimately like Jason, but I still had those images from childhood. I held to them like they were a taut rope and I was suspended over a great chasm. We'd be fine, even if he died or abandoned us.
God, how could I get so attached and reliant on a man so quickly? Am I that feeble a person? Am I such a discredit to feminism and womanly strength?
I was munching on that very thought-food when we hit a congested section of highway.
"Watch out for that tire." Jason pointed to the left and I steered around the chunk of black he was indicating.
When the attacks became more regular and the invasion was full force, many people unsuccessfully made a run for it. With most of the gas stations depleted in hours with no hope of a refill, people could only drive as far as the fuel that existed in their tanks. But it boggled my mind how the congestion was intermittent and the locations nonsensical.
I mean, everyone must've had different amounts of gas in their tanks, right? There cars would have consumed fuel at different rates. So many factors to consider. So shouldn't have all the cars run out of gas at different locations? Instead of ending up cramped together in little continents across the pavement...
It was a bit like the logic-killing traffic in cities. One person at the front of the line decides to hit their brakes and then all the little lemmings have to follow suit. Next thing you know, you have stop-and-go traffic for ten miles for no reason other than people can be idiots.
I hit a section of road completely blocked by vehicles. Some of the cars were in pieces from looters trying to make the best of a bad situation. A semi-truck was ditched to our left, its cargo area open, boxes littered the ground. I tried to read the writing on the boxes, but no dice. Probably wasn't anything to salvage anyway.
I turned the steering wheel to the right and took a joyride jaunt in the grass- coming perilously close to the edge of an unpleasantly steep drop.
I breathed a sigh of relief when the van's four wheels were securely turning on the black asphalt.
"Makes you wonder, doesn't it?" Jason speaks through a stretch that causes his spine to sound like an automatic rifle letting loose.
I turned my head at the sound, catching a glimpse of him resettling in his seat. "What does?"
"Why so many damn cars broke down in one place." His voice was a mirror to my own bewilderment.
I laughed too loudly and I woke both girls. "The question has crossed my mind."
"Mom, are we there yet?" Megan still sounds sleepy. I eye her in the rear view mirror. She's already stretched a hand out to touch Kara, who is whimpering as she also fights the aftermath of deep rest to awaken back to the world.
"Almost, button." I smile. Her eyes open all the way to look out her window and watch the passing trees.
Not long later, we pulled into the entrance of Natural Bridge Park in Natural Bridge, VA. The expanse of rock rising towards the heavens made it hard to deny the existe
nce of something greater. The roughhewn stone seemed touched by giant fingers, sculpted with an impressionistic attention to detail.
Sharp, shadowed lines made me think of my favorite artist. Rouault would be jealous of the natural, dark lined beauty.
When we'd stretched our bodies, aching from the long car ride, we stood gazing. I was struck dumb by the majesty before me. Megan was comically open-mouthed with awe. Kara was too young to appreciate the scene--more interested in a passing butterfly.
"Mom, this is... awesome!"
I smiled at Megan. There wasn't much nowadays that brought me joy, but the look on my eldest daughter's face was worth all the death matches the undergrounders wanted to throw at me.
"Mom... really, it's just... wow." Megan ran up and threw her arms around me. Kara, not wanting to be left out, followed suit.
"I'm so happy we get to see this together." I kissed Megan's head... smelled her hair and saw a park sign in the distance. Picking Kara up, I walked close enough to read the words scripted on the dark brown wood.
Apparently there was a restaurant. And that might mean food.
I lifted my hand to shadow my eyes and scanned for Jason. He wasn't too far off. Raising my hand brought my shirt sleeve into view. I really had to find some fresh clothes. The constant reminder of yesterday's attack was unsettling. Not to mention that the blood stains still had a slight smell--more than enough scent to attract a nearby beastie for snack time.
At least my skin was water-bottle washed.
"Jason, I want to see if there's food stored somewhere near here. Sign says there's a restaurant. I'm guessing it's at the hotel." I speak loud enough for my voice to carry to him and I worry that it's a risk I shouldn't take. We've been warned already that daylight does not always keep the monsters at bay now.
"Right behind you, boss-lady," he yelled out from a couple hundred feet away. His comment earned him a dose of scornful glaring, but inside I reveled in his remark. I'd always wanted to work my way to the top and order people around. Too bad I had no wine to celebrate this rapid ascent up the career ladder. When the world goes to shit, one might as well be queen of the shit pile.
