“You can’t do this,” said Lorena. “It’s not right!”
“Lorena, the sickness is too strong for me. I can barely hold on right now, and I need you to get out of here before I can’t stop myself anymore.”
She tried to hold in her sobs. “But I won’t have anyone left if you’re gone.”
“You’ll be okay. Just stay strong like you always have.”
“You can still stop this!”
“My sickness is getting worse. I might do something terrible to you if I don’t do something about it.”
“You are doing something terrible!” Lorena lunged forward at her father, but he knocked her backwards with his gun. “Dad—”
“Leave!” he cried. “Rowan, please take her!”
Rowan grabbed Lorena’s hand. “Lorena, should we—”
“No!”
“Take her already!”
Without thinking, Rowan reached out for the shotgun in an attempt to stop Andrew, but he was pushed back by an incredible force. Andrew had shoved him and pointed his gun at Lorena, and though it looked like he was hesitating to shoot, his finger was still on the trigger. Rowan pulled Lorena away and threw her behind one of the store shelves just before Andrew was able to hit her.
“Get out of here!” screamed Andrew.
Rowan took Lorena and sprinted away from the liquor store. She didn’t resist anymore, but she kept looking back, hoping that perhaps her father was still right behind them. In the distance, she could hear the faint sound of a gunshot.
She stopped running. “We have to go back!”
“I don’t think you want to see that,” said Rowan, grabbing her hand. “Your father wouldn’t want you to see that.”
Lorena silently conceded and wiped her tears away with her free hand as they resumed running. Eventually, when they were finally tired, they pushed their way into a backyard, where there was a tree house sitting atop an ash tree. Rowan pointed toward the wooden ladder that led to the entrance and supported it at the base as Lorena climbed up.
The boy followed her up into the tree house, where he found her sitting down in the corner with her head buried behind her knees. He sat beside her and gently placed his hand on her back, which only made it rise and fall even faster. As he listened to her sobs, he could not tune out the faint moans that accompanied the rustling of leaves outside, and it suddenly felt impossible to even think about resting at a time like this. There were people out there. There were sick people out there.
“Lorena—”
“I know,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I’ll be quiet.”
“I’m sorry,” whispered Rowan. “I know it’s hard. Just know that I’m here and I’m here to help you, okay?”
Lorena nodded. She lied down on the thick wooden planks and turned her back toward Rowan, though Rowan knew she wasn’t really sleeping, as he could still hear her sniffling. He felt compelled to leave her alone for the night, but at the same time, he wanted to comfort her, to soothe her, to help her. What was he supposed to do in a situation like this? He didn’t know.
“Lorena… we’re gonna head toward San Jose starting tomorrow, okay? We’re going to find someplace safe, just like your father wanted.”
She didn’t respond. Rowan understood that as a sign that he should try to get some rest, but by the end of the night, all he ended up accomplishing was spending his scarce few hours before sunrise staring at a child’s abandoned, battered doll. Behind him, Lorena tossed and turned, making a great effort to stifle her cries. She didn’t know that Rowan, too, remained awake in the darkness. Soon, the night was lost, and neither of them felt better.
The one thought that persisted in Rowan’s mind was about what he would do if he was in Lorena’s shoes. He couldn’t imagine how he would feel if his parents were gone, and he couldn’t imagine having to say goodbye to them so early in his life, but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t done so before. There always comes a time when a child must share a hard goodbye with their parents—going to kindergarten for the first time, moving out for college, having a family. But death, death is everyone’s least favorite goodbye, and it was the one that Rowan couldn’t stop picturing now.
8
The next day was spent in complete silence. Rowan and Lorena traveled just a bit over fifteen or sixteen miles, and when the sun had finally begun to dim, a wave of fatigue washed over them. They had not gotten out of Los Angeles yet, but it was a big city. The more surprising thing was that they had not run into anyone at all.
They decided to rest up in an empty house for the night. Rowan listlessly searched the cupboards and cabinets before realizing that the place had already been picked clean, but it looked like it was safe, so that was all that mattered. Lorena crawled into the only bed of the house while Rowan sat at the edge, and though he really wanted to say something to her, he felt like he would be intruding on her grief. They were still complete strangers to each other. He could empathize and sympathize all he wanted, but he wasn’t going to be the medicine that Lorena needed. She needed time.
Rowan and Lorena quietly shared the next morning. It was the beginning of a new day, but it sure didn’t feel like one. Everything just blurred together. The next two days were again filled with silence, apart from Rowan and Lorena’s brief discussions about the routes they should be taking. They passed through a place called Woodland Hills and then through a place called Thousand Oaks, though the beauty of their names no longer described them. They were littered with trash and bodies, and everything that was supposed to be where they were supposed to be—fire hydrants, street signs, fences—were all in a jumbled mess, or just plain missing.
On Rowan and Lorena’s fourth day of travels, their pace slowed down considerably. They had only scrounged up a little bit of food and water over the past couple of days, which made them feel too tired no matter how often they took breaks. Once they reached Camarillo, Rowan suggested that they take some time to gather some supplies, and though he knew that this would delay them, it was necessary if they wanted to keep going.
The neighborhood they ended up in had them slightly hopeful. This place wasn’t as ravaged as many of the other neighborhoods were, and the biggest difference was that there was an absence of corpses. Nevertheless, it was still eerie and disconcerting, so Rowan and Lorena made their way into an abandoned house as quickly as they could.
Rowan searched the house, and inside a drawer, he discovered a package of New Year’s sparklers and some canned goods. He went to go check on Lorena, who was searching the opposite side of the room, and showed her what he found.
“Do you think we’ll know when the New Year comes?” he asked.
She shrugged and kept packing what little items she could find into her bag. Rowan decided to be persistent, so he sat down on the couch and kept talking.
“I hope that this upcoming year will be better.” He closed his eyes and stretched his legs out onto the coffee table in front of him. “This year—even aside from the bombs and the sickness—hasn’t been very good for me.”
Lorena continued to search the room, but again, Rowan kept going. “You know, every single year on New Year’s Day, my best friend and I get together to write a letter to ourselves. We talk about what we want out of the year and what we want to do differently, and then we open it up at the beginning of the next year to see if what we wrote down came true. I don’t think I’ll be back home in time to find that letter.”
Rowan felt the couch cushion he was sitting on sink further down, so he nodded to acknowledge Lorena’s presence, though he kept his eyes closed. “But, it’s okay. I remember everything that I wrote down. I told myself that I would get into Harvard, that my mom would be proud, and that I would finally come up with a plan that would help my parents get some money so we could finally be comfortable and happy.”
He opened his eyes and looked at Lorena, whose grim face reminded him of his own misery. “I never did come up with that plan. Guess that’s all sorts of fucked up now, anyway.”
Lorena didn’t really seem like she was returning to her spirits, but Rowan knew nothing about helping people get through crises—he didn’t even know how to get through one himself. “Maybe we could write some New Year’s promises ourselves sometime.”
Lorena’s head slowly drooped down to her chest. “I don’t know.”
“Well, if you change your mind, I can find some paper and pens and keep them with me. We can start on them at any time.”
“Sure. I’ll let you know.”
“I’ll go check the house for more stuff. I think this neighborhood is promising, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
Rowan stood up, but before he could grab his backpack, Lorena grabbed his arm and gently tugged him back down to the couch.
“What’s up?”
“We could’ve stopped him.” Lorena’s eyes were full of tears. “We could’ve stopped my dad.”
“Lorena—”
“I know we could’ve stopped him. I—”
“He was sick. There was nothing we could’ve done unless we had some sort of cure or if we found someone who knew how to help him.”
“But he didn’t have to die!”
“I know. It’s just—it’s just that we weren’t prepared or equipped for that kind of thing.”
“I saw the signs… but I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything to stop it. I just let him be sick the entire time. Couldn’t I have prevented this?”
“Don’t blame yourself for what happened. His illness wasn’t your fault at all.”
Lorena could barely talk anymore. “I failed him, Rowan. I—”
“No,” he assured her. “You didn’t. I’m not the best person to trust when it comes to advice, but I know that you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You aren’t responsible for his actions. It was the sickness—not you.”
Lorena thrust herself into Rowan’s chest. He held her for a long time—long past the slow, gradual blending of the evening shadows on the wall. She kept trying to blame herself over and over and over again, and each time she did, she would feel just as terrible as she did when she last saw her father. It took Rowan hours to convince her that she was wrong, and even then, he wasn’t quite sure that she really believed him at all.
Rowan prepared a meal for both of them: half a box of raisins, a granola bar, and some water. They were back to silence for a while, though it wasn’t because they were particularly more upset than usual—in fact, it was quite the opposite now—rather, they were just simply tired. And although they were drained by the constant walking and the lack of food and water, they were plagued by a different kind of exhaustion today. This exhaustion weighed down their heart and spirit in a way that paralyzed them.
“We should sleep,” said Lorena.
“Yeah. Do you need anything? I can check if the rooms have any blankets or pillows.”
Lorena slowly lied down on the couch. “Is it okay if you tell me a story?”
“A story? Aren’t you a little too—”
“I just want to hear one. Back when I was younger, whenever I was having a hard time with whatever was going on in my life—my parents’ divorce, a hard day at school, stuff like that—my dad would tell me a story right before bed. It always helped. I just want a good night’s rest for once.”
“Okay. What kind of story?”
“Anything.”
“All right. Give me a second. Let me think of something.” Rowan closed his eyes and thought about making a story up. What did young girls like? Surely, it’d be odd to start telling a story about sunshine and rainbows at a time like this—but perhaps she needed it. Perhaps they both needed it. But he couldn’t tell such a story, because his mind didn’t work that way. He could never come up with a story like that. Not anymore.
Lorena sat up and slid closer to Rowan, who was shaking his head in disappointment. “I’m drawing blanks,” he said. “Would a true story bother you?”
“Not at all.”
“Okay,” he said, sinking backwards into the couch. “I don’t know why I’m thinking of this, but it’s the first thing that came to mind. This one time, Caitlyn and I went to our local theatre to go see some horror movie. I don’t even remember what it was, but it was about some ghost haunting a family, which I guess is something you can say about a lot of horror movies.”
Rowan sat up straight again. “Anyway, we get into the theatre, get our seats, and I’m there with my popcorn, excited as hell. Like, really excited. I don’t even know why—Caitlyn was the one who really wanted to see this movie. But, anyway, not even a minute had passed into the movie and some kids started screaming even though nothing was even happening. And nobody was stopping them. Like, seriously? The movie just introduced the family eating some breakfast or something. I was glaring in the direction of the noise, but obviously nobody could see me, and I didn’t wanna say anything to these kids because I was sure that the disturbances were gonna stop eventually.
“But I was wrong. These damn kids kept screaming and giggling every minute, and no one was saying shit to them. It was ridiculous.” Rowan’s cheeks flushed red. “They must’ve laughed over a hundred separate times within the first half hour of the damn movie. I just kept getting angrier and angrier and eventually I just stood up and told them all to shut the fuck up, which made one of the kids laugh again. Man, I swear that shit just got me angrier, so I picked up my popcorn and got ready to start throwing all of it in the general direction of the yelping, but Caitlyn grabbed my arm and pulled me down. She told me it’d be a waste of popcorn, and yeah, I mean, I guess, but I was seriously pissed. But she kept telling me to let it go and that getting mad was just going to ruin our night, so I tried chilling out as best I could. It didn’t really work that well, but we ended up getting through the movie.”
“Do you always get that mad?” Lorena had placed her legs back onto the couch, curling herself into a fetal position next to Rowan. “You weren’t gonna hurt them, were you?”
“I just have a short fuse that sets off really easily—which doesn’t mean I was exactly going to go down there and start fighting those kids. But, I mean, who wouldn’t get mad at them? I’m sure everyone was thinking the same thing I was thinking.”
“Caitlyn was able to calm you down, though.”
“Yeah. I listen to what she says. Not always, but I try to. I feel like she knows what’s best for me. Especially when I can’t think straight whenever I’m mad. I do the same for her when she isn’t thinking straight.”
“You’re always okay after, right?”
“Yeah. I’m just a really angry person, I guess. I’ve got a bad temper. Especially when I’m stressed the hell out. It’s just who I am.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
Rowan shrugged and took a seat on the floor. “Maybe. Are you sleepy yet?”
“A little.” Lorena rested her head on one of the throw pillows on the couch. “The story did help, though. It has me thinking of other things. Thanks for that.”
“I got you. Let’s try to sleep, okay? If you need anything else, just wake me up.”
“Okay.”
They remained still, closed their eyes, and tried their best to get through the night. After all, they still had so much left ahead of them.
The sun had just begun to shine through the windows when Rowan and Lorena decided to leave. They were still tired, so they tried to slow their pace even further—but every time Rowan started thinking about home, he would speed right back up again.
Much like the past few days, they were able to find a quiet neighborhood to relax in after a long day of endless walking. Rowan was a bit frustrated with the fact that they had been unable to find a faster way to travel, but he was glad that Lorena was keeping up with him. Her resilience was more than he could ask for.
In the first house that they checked out, Rowan ushered Lorena out the front door before she could investigate any further. He had checked the bedroom and found the dead bodies of a family: a mot
her, a father, and two children. It wasn’t that he was trying to needlessly shelter Lorena from something she would eventually see; rather, it was that he knew that it wasn’t necessary for both of them to be exposed to such a sight if he could control it. It was enough that he felt sick and wrong seeing it himself—Lorena didn’t have to feel that way either.
It took them a few more houses before they found something suitable enough to stay in for the night. The place was dingy and dark and had an odd, putrid stench that haunted every room of the house, but it was empty and warm and was just what they needed. Rowan wondered where the people who lived in this house went. Did the military tell families where they should run to? Were there any camps that they could go to? Or, did these people get sick and start wandering around, just like that woman who had attacked him? It was possible that they were trying to find their friends and family just like Rowan was, and they were out there trying their best to reunite with them. This idea only made Rowan feel bitter, though. After all, if people really were out there trying to find their loved ones, wouldn’t he and Lorena have run into groups of people by now? It just seemed like people were either sick or dead.
Lorena peered through the front window for a minute before sitting down next to Rowan, who had been crushing a package of dried noodles with his hands. He opened up the packet and sprinkled half of the seasoning onto the noodles, mixing it in as evenly as possible. He then took a piece and extended the package over to his companion.
“Aren’t people supposed to cook these?” she asked, hesitating to touch the bag.
“Yeah, but, we can’t really do that right now, so this is the best we can do. A lot of people back at my elementary school used to do this, including me. Try it. It’s not that bad.”
Lorena grabbed a piece from the bag, prompting Rowan to start eating some. She watched him eat a couple more before trying the piece she held in her hand, which snapped in half with a loud crunch. It wasn’t the best thing in the world—obviously—but Rowan was right, it was the best they could do, and it was edible. They shared the package of ramen for a few moments, quiet as can be—there wasn’t much to talk about, anyway.
Seasons After Fall Page 9
