by Alia Hess
Sasha rolled his eyes. He spoke in Russian and Irina scoffed and replied, the exchange becoming a heated argument. Owl and Trav shared a glance. Trav said, “I wouldn’t want another country to take over, but I hope that’s not the case. Killing off all but a fraction of the world is an awful thought.”
“How many people survived the virus in America when it first happened?” Owl asked.
Irina and Sasha stopped arguing. Sasha said, “One percent. If Dr. Krupin released virus on world, ninety-nine percent of people would die.”
“Dr. Krupin is not murderer,” Irina retorted.
“I think you estimate how much he hates Russia.”
“Underestimate, dumbass.”
Sasha ignored her. “You know what else I think?”
Irina peeked at Owl and Trav and muttered something in Russian.
Sasha shrugged. “So what if they hear? What does it matter? They going to call Russian government?”
Owl didn’t understand Irina’s reply, but the blade of hostility and exasperation in her voice was unmistakable.
Sasha laughed. “Oh, really? I’m so stupid that I find this out from hacking Dr. Krupin and Dr. Orlov’s computers and reading notes and emails?”
Irina frowned, staring at Sasha as he weaved around a dented metal barrel. Did he enjoy saying these things just to upset them or were they true? Maybe he just said it because it was part of the superstition. If he got a kick out of people worshiping the drones, it wasn’t a stretch to imagine him feeding people’s fear of The Collapse.
An awkward silence permeated the small cab, and Sasha’s overpowering cologne was giving Owl a headache. She pressed her forehead to the cold window pane. They passed fields, abandoned farms, defunct grocery stores, tattered billboards, and some very surprised travelers. Trav rested his head against the back of the seat with his eyes shut. Owl leaned against him and eventually fell asleep.
When she awoke, they were on the outskirts of a large, Old World city. Trav peered out the window with a frown as Sasha and Irina argued in Russian.
“What’s happening?” Owl asked.
Irina glowered. “Sasha went wrong way.”
“Is not wrong way! But I had to take different road because highway was blocked. It took us too far north.”
“That means it is wrong way.”
Sasha turned around to look at Owl and Trav. “You know why I have no hair? Because Irina make me pull it out with her nagging!”
“You two should just kiss already.” Owl shook her head.
Irina laughed. “As if.”
Sasha wiggled his fingertips over the device in his hand. He stopped and cocked an eyebrow. “You know you want it, baby.”
“Ugh, gross.” Irina rolled down the window and leaned an arm out.
“I don’t remember you saying gross when—”
Irina smacked Sasha in the chest and he gasped. “Hey baby, come on. I got weak heart.” He rubbed his breastbone and fiddled with his device again. “Okay, I find new road to town. It will be as close as we can go.”
“As close to what?” Trav asked.
“The ocean. Too many city ruins in way after that. You will have to walk. But maybe will only take you a week or longer to get through.”
“I still can’t believe it,” Owl replied.
“Going to drop you guys off and find bar.” Sasha waggled his eyebrows. “For research.”
Irina sighed. “Guess I’m driving back later. It’s better anyway. We won’t get lost.”
Sasha turned the car around and headed in a new direction. They eventually arrived in a cute little town surrounded by farm fields and animal pastures. Sasha nosed their vehicle into a stand of trees near a fenced-in meadow. He looked back at them. “Got to look like we belong here. Can’t just drive into town.”
Owl chuckled. With Sasha’s orange shoes and thick accent, he would likely still have trouble blending in.
They exited the vehicle, hefting their packs. Trav stretched, his back cracking loudly. “Thanks for driving us all this way.”
“Yeah, thank you.” Owl adjusted a strap on her bag. “This has helped us out so much.”
“Oh, we’re not leaving ways yet.” Sasha grinned. “Trav, we going to find bar and have drink, yeah?”
“Uh… Sure.” Trav looked at Owl and shrugged.
“Go for it. I’ll just…”
“She can hang with me.” Irina tugged Owl’s sleeve. “We find something to do.”
The four of them walked down the road, passing the field as ravens cawed and circled the sky. Grasses and flowers grew wild around the wood and stucco houses. A goat stood in front of one house, tied to a tree, chewing a mouthful of grass.
The bar wasn’t hard to find—a large, light yellow building sitting on the main street, with small, overcrowded tables and chairs in front. Sasha rubbed his hands together as he approached the building.
“Come on, Trav.”
Trav looked at the women. “Tell me I’m not going to regret this.”
“Good luck.” Owl smirked. “I’ll be out here.”
Trav entered the bar, then Owl squeezed around people and tables to get back to the street. She walked with Irina, passing more little businesses and farm animals roaming free.
“I am so sick of Sasha.” Irina flipped a lock of her bright red hair over her shoulder. “I thought he was kind of funny at beginning, but now he’s just annoying. You know how you said we should kiss?”
“Yeah, I was just joking—”
“Well, we did screw. One time. Big mistake.”
Owl’s mouth parted.
“Yeah, I know. I still can’t believe either. I am trying to become better person here, but I still messed up. It gets really boring in those trailers, you know? We came for adventure, but Dr. Orlov and Dr. Krupin say we aren’t ready for new lives. I think they just want our help with their work. But I could still explore and do research at same time. You are so lucky that you just go wherever you want. Not worry about anything.”
Owl pursed her lips. “You make it sound great. But there’s a reason I started traveling and it’s not a good reason. Trav too. I used to live in a town similar to this one, but I had to leave in a hurry.” She shook her head. “You guys keep talking about America as this land of adventure where you can go and be free and do whatever you want. But that’s a problem, too—people doing whatever they want. Have you noticed almost everyone here has ugly scars on their faces and bodies? Those aren’t from having fun. A lot of times you can meet nice people on the road, or sometimes there’s no one at all, but you still have to watch your back for people that want to do you harm.”
Irina listened to Owl with a small smile on her face. “You think I don’t know these things? I have seen many things with the drones. Some are horrible. But America is not only place with horrible things. People in other countries do whatever they want too. Just because is more police, does not mean it is safer. In Russia, I carried pepper spray—is a weapon—and never walked alone at night. Some other countries are much worse than Russia and America. Gangs have so much power, so much money, that they control everything. They are rich from drug money. They live in huge, expensive houses, have many cars, while people right outside are starving and dirty in the street.”
A sheep stood in the road. Owl walked up to it and patted its head, then she reached into her pack and broke off a chunk of mealcake. The sheep took it from her palm with its velvety lips.
Irina continued. “There are some countries that fight themself all the time—shooting bombs at each other and blowing up their own cities. I’m sorry you have bad things happen to you, but it’s not just America. My own mother is junkie. She don’t care about me. I haven’t talked to her in years. It was not a hard decision to come here.”
Owl ran her hand along the sheep’s woolly back. “Man, that’s depressing. I felt like we were the only ones suffering, and no other countries were doing anything about it. But I definitely have a new perspective now.”
&nb
sp; Irina smiled. “Exactly. And don’t be jealous of technology. It’s not all great. Actually, it is. It’s too great. You know what I did in Russia every day? I had my phone with me all the time. Everywhere I go. I was always looking at things on it, and not paying attention to world around me. That is what rest of world does. When we got here, the doctors give us tablets for communication, but I decided that I will only use it for work or emergency. Americans don’t use internet, so I don’t too.”
Owl shook her head, baffled by the jargon. “I can’t even imagine. I guess I don’t want to.”
They eventually made their way back to the bar. Sasha sat on the curb with a hand over his eye. Trav stood next to him with his arms folded, his face creased into a frown. When Sasha saw them, he removed his hand, revealing a swollen eye blushing purple and a cut on his brow. He tried to stand up but fell back down.
Irina laughed. “Look, Sasha has made friends already.”
“Oh my God. What happened? Did he get in a bar fight?” Owl asked.
“No,” Trav replied. “I did that.”
“What? Why?”
“I deserve it.” Sasha touched his brow. “I am asshole.”
Irina laughed again. “It’s about time. You had it coming long time, Sasha.”
Sasha tried to get up again. He pushed himself to his feet, wavering dramatically. “Man! You guys got some great liquors here. So strong. I think I have one more.”
Trav grabbed Sasha by his bright yellow shirt collar as he turned toward the bar. “Uh-uh.”
“Well, at least will be quiet in car on the way back.” Irina shook her head. “We should get going.”
“I’ll help.” Trav scowled at Sasha and hooked an arm around him. He looked at Irina. “I’m sorry I did it, but I couldn’t help it. He said something and… I didn’t even know I punched him until it was too late.”
Owl translated, and Irina said, “If he offended you, he deserves it.” She put Sasha’s other arm around her shoulders. “Ugh, you stink.”
“I deserve it.” Sasha frowned. “What did I do?”
Trav’s scowl deepened. He had been offended and hurt many times by racist Mainlanders, but had never hit any of them. What could Sasha have said that would provoke him so?
After reaching the little white truck in the stand of trees, Irina said, “Sasha, give me the keys.”
Sasha grinned. “I got them somewhere on me, baby. You going to have to find.”
“Keys, Sasha.” Trav scowled.
“Okay, big guy.” Sasha put up his hands. “I give to you. Please don’t punch me.” He fished the truck keys from his front pocket.
Irina snatched them and unlocked the truck, then they pushed Sasha inside. He flopped onto the back seat, his gaze going from Irina to Owl. He said something in Russian.
“Ew. You’re such a pervert.” She shut the door.
“You going to be okay alone with him?” Trav asked.
“Oh, yeah. Sasha is annoying, but he would not hurt me. Hopefully he fall asleep soon so I don’t have to listen to him.” She glanced through the truck window, then back at Owl and Trav. “Well, good luck getting to ocean. I hope you guys have nice life. If you ever come back this way, come say hi. …If I’m still there. I want to go live in town like this place someday. And Trav, don’t feel bad for hitting Sasha. Somebody going to do it eventually.”
“Bye, Irina.”
She entered the truck, waved, then backed out of the trees and onto the road.
“I shouldn’t have hit him. People have said much more offensive things to me, but he was just so damn irritating. And the stuff he was saying was about you, and…”
“What did he say?”
Trav frowned. Beyond him, green fields stretched into the horizon, cows lowing in the distance. He sighed. “Sasha said he couldn’t believe how a beautiful girl like you ended up with a guy like me, and said you must have really low self-esteem… And then he asked me what village I kidnapped you from.”
Owl rubbed her face, not sure if she should laugh or curse. “I love you. And it doesn’t have anything to do with my self-esteem.”
“I know.” He leaned in and kissed her, looking both ways for spectators before doing so.
December 22, 152—We’re in the ruins today. Still. It’s really slow going trying to figure out the best routes through all of the broken buildings and garbage. Trav is stressed out all the time. I think he won’t be able to relax until we are out of this city. Which stinks because he’s not been interested in conversation or sex since we stepped foot here.
December 23, 152—Today we saw some weird animals. They looked sort of like rats or squirrels. They were black, with big, pink eyes and teeth growing out the tops of their heads. They were eating the corpse of something in the road. When they saw us, they scattered, but as soon as we passed by, they ran back to their lunch. We decided to call them Rot Rodents.
December 24, 152—Last night we heard trashdogs rooting around in the garbage, and today we saw a bloated corpse with a bullet hole in its head. Trav still doesn’t talk much—I think he has too much on his mind. He’s worried about where we are at, and what might be around each corner, but aside from that, I think he’s thinking more and more about how close we are to Nis and what’s going to happen when we’re there.
I’ve been thinking about things too. I have such a new perspective on what happened to the people that lived here before. We pass by coffee shops and office buildings and baby clothes boutiques, and I think about people shopping, and going to work, drinking their coffee. And how one day they aren’t feeling so hot, and suddenly they get bloody noses, and then it starts coming out their eyes and ears, and they’re looking at each other in horror, wondering what’s going on. God, it’s so morbid, but I can’t get the pictures out of my head. I really hope that Dr. Krupin isn’t planning to release the virus on the world. It also creeps me out thinking that it’s still lurking in the air and on everything we touch. And inside us. And that if we didn’t have resistance, we would suffer the same horrible fate as those people hundreds of years ago.
11 ~ Creek ~
On December twenty-fifth, they walked by a small, fenced-in park, broken swing chains hanging in the mud. Ravens sat on the fence, eyeing them as they passed. Tall buildings loomed ahead, their storefronts smashed, and chairs and mannequins lay in the wet street. Trav wore a scowl, his eyes full of suspicion—the same expression he’d had for days. Maybe it was permanent.
Someone screamed. Trav grabbed Owl by the shoulders and jerked her into an alley. Across the street, a chain link fence gated the space between two buildings. After a moment, a woman with a dark complexion ran to the gate, jerking on the latch and swinging it open. She stood in the street, her black eyes wet with fear.
Owl almost called out to her, but movement in the opposite alley caused her to bite her tongue.
“There you are, bitch!” A dirty, pot-bellied man barreled through the open gate, grabbing the woman by her black hair. She screamed again.
Trav’s quickened breath puffed against Owl’s ear, but he didn’t move.
“Help me!”
His hand trembled against her arm as he lifted his hatchet. “Don’t move. Whatever happens—stay here.”
The alley man jerked the woman’s hair, pushing her down and planting a knee in her stomach. She squirmed on the road, clawing at her attacker’s face. Trav slunk from the building’s shadow.
The hatchet made a wet smack as it connected with the back of the man’s skull. The woman screamed again as her accoster sagged to one side.
Another figure appeared in the alley. Owl gasped. “Trav!”
He turned partway, but not quickly enough. A second man leapt, drawing a metal bar across Trav’s throat and jerking back. Trav let out a gurgling sound that made Owl’s soul shrink in on itself. She clutched her machete as he choked and tried to shake his attacker.
I can’t move.
She squeezed her weapon’s handle tighter. The woman
on the ground cowered into a ball. Trav’s face had turned the color of a day-old bruise, his hands beating desperately at the metal bar.
If he dies, what is the point of anything?
Owl sprang from her hiding place, blood thudding in her temple. The attacker turned toward her, momentarily slackening his grip on the iron bar. Trav pivoted and elbowed him in the nose, then coughed spasmodically. Owl locked eyes with the alley man and time stopped. She swung the machete and the man’s throat became a river. He didn’t seem to register what happened, his gaze still holding hers. He dropped the metal bar. It clanged on the asphalt, Trav coughed, and the woman cried. Realization filled the man’s face. He put his hands to his throat, trying to hold in the blood, but failed. He uttered a watery rasp and sank to his knees.
Trav coughed again. He wrenched his hatchet out of the head of the first man, then looked at Owl with bleary eyes and smiled weakly.
The machete slipped from her hand. She hugged Trav tight, pressing her forehead to his chest. “I thought I was going to lose you.”
“You almost did.” He wheezed. She didn’t have time to contemplate this further, as the woman on the ground began to wail.
“That was horrible! Everything is horrible! I want to go home!” She sobbed into her hands.
Trav helped her to her feet. Up close, it was obvious how young she was—sixteen or seventeen. Tears ran past her pert nose and full mouth, matte black lipstick carefully applied to her lips. Strands of shells hung from her neck, resting on her cleavage.
“We should get somewhere safe.” Trav’s words were barely audible. He rubbed his throat. Owl nodded, following him and the woman clinging to his side.
They ducked into a nearby building with boarded up windows, barring the door behind them. Thin light shafts filtered in, slicing up the dusty darkness. The woman let go of Trav’s arm, crumpling into a corner near a counter.
Owl and Trav did similarly. She sank to the dirty floor, eyes wide and hands shaking, rotting vinyl bar stools with bent aluminum legs looming over her.
“I—I killed a man. …Again.”
Trav rubbed Owl’s back and nodded. He took a swallow of water, grimacing.