The hacking was a normalcy.
George made his way across the little inner town, the people voted to morbidly call Olympia. One man paused in his stride to seemingly hack up a lung.
“You know, you should go out and get some fresh air,” George told him. ‘It could help.”
“Out … side?” he asked, pausing to cough.
“Yes.”
“Yeah … no thanks.”
What the hell was wrong with people? Shaking his head, George made his way to Buford’s office. As he expected Bob was in there. Both men had a rocks glass with an inch worth of brown liquid.
Bob sat across from Buford, and George set a copy of the comparison pictures on the desk.
“We have changes,” George said.
After taking a sip, Bob clenched his fist and drew it in with an excited, ‘Yes’.
“Hot damn,” Buford exclaimed. “That is what I wanted to hear. And I thought it was a good day because I think we finally have everyone happy with their quarters.”
“That is good to know,” said George. “I know you guys worked hard on assigning living areas.”
“What do you have?” Buford asked. “How much did the water move?”
“Eight feet.”
Bob just looked at him. “Eight feet. You mean eight feet deep or eight feet wide?”
“Deep.”
Bob tossed up his hand.
“But we have a receding of thirty miles, that’s really good,” George said.
Buford leaned back in his chair. “Any word from Texas on sending help?”
“They said a few weeks,” George replied. “They may be able to get a boat to us.”
“Meanwhile,” Bob said, finishing his drink. “We’re stuck on Gilligan’s Island. I need off this rock. I want to do a surveillance flight, see for myself other than these images of what’s really left out there and I can’t do that until I get to dry land and find a plane.”
“It could be worse,” George said. “We have a huge mountain. It isn’t just some small island. We could actually start planning our own long term survival instead of waiting for some boat to arrive or building one.”
“How’s that going?” Buford asked, he reached into his drawer and pulled out a glass, handing it to Bob.
“Good.” George shrugged. “It’s something for them to do. Now ask me if it will float, I may have a different answer.”
“Swell.” Bob lifted a bottle from the floor, poured some in a glass given to him by Buford and pushed it toward George.
“How is it,” George asked. “You always have booze.”
“I planned ahead. But if I don’t get off this rock soon, I won’t have any.”
“Maybe now is the time to quit drinking?” George suggested.
Bob looked at him. “Have you seen it out there? No. Now is not the time to quit.”
“The water is receding,” George said. “You can take heart in that.”
“Since you like to estimate,” Buford said. “How long until there isn’t any water? Until we’re back to normal?”
“Until the waters completely recede? Four years. As far as back to normal. Sorry to say, like it or not, this is the new normal.” Enjoying the looks of dismay given to him by the two men, George lifted the drink poured for him and downed it.
<><><><>
Liv could hear the pounding of hammers before she even emerged from the East tunnel entrance. Twelve people worked diligently on building a boat. It made Liv laugh because she likened them to shipwreck survivors on a desert island. Like they were the cast of the TV show Lost, trying desperately to get home.
They were home, there was nowhere else to go.
It was reluctantly Liv’s day off. Buford made her take one. She constantly stayed busy, whether it was cleaning, planting, painting or organizing living arrangements. She even worked when she was sick with the Olympia cough.
She had promised to hang out with Mitch. Sit back, relax and talk. The East side was where he was, it actually seemed to be where everyone went.
Liv knew why.
Every time she stepped out that entrance, it took her breath away. The temperature dropped, a cool breeze was always continuous and the view was awe inspiring.
People would walk the roadway down as far as they could to get as close to the water as possible.
It was the end of August and the weather was warm.
She spotted Mitch in the semi grassy area. A patch that had started to grow back. He lay back in a chaise lounge chair, a little table was between him and an empty lounge chair.
Liv walked over to him. He was sprawled out, shirt off and a sheet of white paper was under his chin.
“Are you sunbathing?” Liv asked.
“I am. We all look pale,” he said. “Especially you after the cough. You need sun. Everyone needs the sun.”
When Liv sat down, she knocked over his arm crutch and lifted it back up. “Hey. Where is your leg?”
“You cut it off.”
“Ha, ha. I’m talking about your prosthetic.”
“Oh.” He waved out his hand. “It feels funny.”
“You need to wear it to get used to it.”
“I doubt that will ever happen.”
“You know, my grandmother said the same thing.”
Mitch looked at her. “Your grandmother had a prosthetic leg?”
“No. She had dentures. She wouldn’t wear them. She said they felt funny and hated them. I told her if she wore them a little each day, she would get used to them.”
“And did she?”
“Get used to them or wear them every day?”
“Both.”
“No.” Liv shook her head. “She didn’t listen. Which is why you should. Donna wears hers.”
“Donna wears a fake hand. And it looks fake.”
“Because it is fake,” Liv said.
“All it does is pinch. Who wants that?”
“Donna. And you need to wear the leg.”
“I will,” Mitch said. “Eventually. Right now, We’re out of that hole. I’m enjoying my days. I’m healing inside and out.”
Liv grumbled a ‘hmm.’
“Why are you so cynical?”
“I just don’t feel the healing thing,” she replied.
“Because you don’t want to. Trust me. You are. And if you just take time to stop, you will see that. Like now. Stop. Kick back and enjoy the ocean.”
“It’s not the ocean,” Liv said.
“Close enough. It sounds like it. It smells like it and … more than water, it’s a symbol. It’s what happened to the world and us being up here, is symbolic of how we really rose above it.”
“Oh my God, you and Bob and your quip quotes.”
Mitch laughed. “Speaking of Bob.” He reached down to the side of his chair then handed her a tiny booze bottle. “Drink. I think you’re in a good place.”
“Here at Mitch Beach or emotionally?”
“Both.”
Liv untwisted the cap and after extending her legs, kicked back in the chair.
It really was the first time in a long time she was able to relax.
She didn’t need to be outside to look at the water and know what it stood for. She realized it every time she saw people and looked at the place they called home.
The new ocean really was a symbol. One day she would cross it and see the world or what remained of it. Until then she would admire the beauty from the side of the mountain or the images George shared.
Unlike many others she saw the true symbolism of it.
A fresh start.
The deep waters were a cleansing, rushing across a good part of the planet, clearing a way for a different tomorrow. Even though Olympias came moments after, the wave was truly the final event. It washed away so much, bodies, buildings, the destruction. But one thing it couldn’t wash away: The humanity and strength of those who survived it all, and in a new way, a new place, they would keep on surviving.
And so w
ould Liv.
<><><><>
Thank you so much for reading this book. I had fun writing it and hope enjoyed it, as well.
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We Who Remain Page 20
