by Amy Cross
"We robbed a convenience store or two," Erikson says. "I'm not proud of it, but we figured no-one else was gonna take the stuff. We never, ever would have done anything like that before all this shit came down. You two are the first people we've seen since we set out a couple of days ago. The way things are, I reckon it's finders keepers from now on. Law of the jungle, you know? Survival of the fucking fittest."
"You have to eat your own damn food!" Shauna shouts from the passenger seat. "You're not allowed any of ours! Tell them they can't have our food!"
"You heard the lady," Erikson says with a faint smile.
I nod.
"Can you drive?" he asks.
"No," I reply.
"Well," he continues, "I guess I'll teach you some time. Don't go thinking you've found a couple of chauffeurs, okay? Just..." He leans closer. "Don't mind Shauna," he whispers. "She's always been kind of the jealous, crazy type, but just cut her some slack and you'll get on just fine. Okay?"
"Okay," I reply.
"What are you whispering about?" Shauna shouts.
"Nothing!" Erikson tells her, as Dawn finally reaches us.
"This is Carl Erikson," I say, turning to her, "and his girlfriend Shauna. They've offered to let us go with them. They're heading west, and I figure we might as well all go together. Do you want to come, Dawn?"
She stares at me.
"You don't say much, do you?" Erikson says with a smile.
Dawn turns and stares at him.
"Don't mind Dawn," I continue, climbing into the back of the van and taking a moment to carefully stow my bag and the guns. "She won't be any trouble. I promise." Sure enough, just as I'd expected, Dawn climbs into the van and sits over on the chair by the other side of the table. I honestly don't know whether I should be glad that she's so little trouble, or annoyed that she just seems to think she can wander along and expect me to fix everything. I joked to myself earlier that she's like a dog, but actually she seems to have less intelligence than any dog I've ever met. She just seems to be totally placid and calm.
"You alright, then?" Erikson asks, staring at Dawn.
Slowly, she turns to stare at him.
"Well," he says with a cautious smile, "I guess we're all gonna get to know each other a little better once we're underway, but for now I'll just say that I hope you ladies enjoy your time with us. We're not so bad, once you get to know us. Even Shauna."
"Fuck you," Shauna mutters.
"She's a peach," he continues. "We're gonna keep driving until sundown, and then we'll probably pull over and have some food and settle for the night. I don't quite know how things are gonna work out, but I guess we'll deal with any issues as we come across them." He pauses. "You seem like nice girls, but I want to make one thing clear. This is my van. Well, mine and Shauna's. We decide where we go. If you don't like it, just let us know and we'll drop you off by the side of the road, but there's not gonna be any debate. This is not a democracy. It's a camper van." With that, he slides the door shut.
"Nice to meet you," I say, turning to Shauna. "I'm Elizabeth."
"I heard," she replies, before shifting in her seat so that she's looking out the side window. It's pretty clear that not only does she not like me, but she wants to make sure that I know she doesn't like me. I guess I can understand her point of view in a way. After all, it's hard to know who to trust, and as Erikson climbs into the driver's seat, I realize that I have no idea whether these two people are telling the truth about their identities or their intentions. Glancing back over at the two rifles I brought from Manhattan, I figure that at least I have a way to defend us if we get into trouble. As the van starts up and we start moving along the road, I turn and look out the window. After a few minutes, Manhattan is barely visible in the distance and finally the city disappears completely beyond the horizon. I don't know when I'll be coming back, but I will be back one day. When all of this is sorted out, I'm going to come and put some flowers on Henry's grave.
Thomas
Missouri
He keeps shouting for a few hours, calling me all the names under the sun and cursing me out, but I'm not budging. Sitting at the table in the little kitchen, I stare straight ahead and try to work out what I should do next. The truth is, deep down, I know that what Joe said makes sense: I should leave him behind, and if he was anyone else, I would dump him off the back of the truck and leave him here. But he's my brother, and he's probably the only family I've got left, so I figure I need to come up with another idea.
The problem is, I'm not smart enough. I've never been very intelligent, although often I've been smarter than the rest of my family. Still, I'm not the kind of person who's always coming up with good ideas or working out ways to get out of bad situations. I'm no good at trying to survive, and on top of that, I'm pretty weak. My father always had a way of knowing what to do, and doing it even if he didn't like the idea; my mother, also, was able to just force herself to get on with stuff. As for me, I guess I'm more like Joe than I want to admit. I've always avoided making tough decisions, and this is no exception. I have no idea what's right, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to do.
Eventually, as Joe finally stops calling out to me, I decide to do something I haven't done for many years. It's kind of desperate, but it's my only choice.
Getting down onto my knees, I close my eyes and put my hands together. There's an ominous kind of silence all around me, as if the world is waiting for me to say something. I'd like to think that God is waiting for me to speak, but in truth, I don't even know if I believe that he exists. Still, I've got to try something, and this is the only idea I've got at the moment.
"Dear Lord," I whisper eventually, "I know I haven't exactly been to church much, and I know my family's been pretty much the same, except my mother, she wanted to go but my father wouldn't drive her. Anyway, I know you know all this already, 'cause you know everything, but I'm just letting you know that I know it's wrong." I pause, trying to work out how to phrase this. "We need a miracle. I don't know what's happening, and I don't know how much of the world has been affected, but right now, Lord, we need a miracle. I need you to make me smart enough so I can come up with a way to save my brother. He's really bad right now, and I don't even know if he'll make it through the night, so I need you to give me the extra intelligence so I can work out what to do. Or give us some other kind of miracle."
From outside, there's the sound of Joe starting to moan again. He sounds like he's in a bad way, worse than before.
"Can't you hear that, Lord?" I ask. "I know you can, so won't you do something? We need a miracle to help us get to somewhere safe, and we need another miracle to bring us someone who knows how to help my brother and fix him up. I know he's hurt bad, but you can do something about that, can't you? You can make it so he doesn't get infected, and -"
I pause as Joe's pained moan becomes louder. Although I try to block the sound from my mind, it's impossible. He sounds like he's suffering all the pain in the world.
"You can make it so he gets better," I continue, squeezing my eyes even tighter shut. "You can fix him, so... fix him. I need him alive. I don't know why you made it so that the truck dropped on him in the first place, but whatever it was, he's learned his lesson. I know he's been a bad person in the past, but he's not the only one. We've all been bad. Don't punish him for robbing that gas station or for getting drunk or for anything else. Give him a miracle and let him live, and let the pain all go away so that he doesn't have to suffer. Can't you hear him?"
I pause, and the only sound comes from Joe's agonized cries for help.
"Please, Lord," I whisper, clasping my hands together so tight, it's starting to hurt.
I wait.
"Just one miracle," I continue. "Can't you spare one miracle to help us?"
Again, I wait.
Nothing.
And then...
With Joe still calling out for help, I open my eyes. Maybe it's insane, but I'm sure I can feel something moving through my
body, giving me strength. All my doubts and fears seem to be falling away, and there's a new kind of strength rising inside me, telling me what I have to do. Part of me's scared, but part of me knows that this is the only way I can make things right. I don't know if it's a miracle, exactly, but it's something new in me, something that's giving me more strength that I ever knew I could possess. I know what I have to do, and I know I can do it. With a heavy heart, I get to my feet and walk toward the door.
Elizabeth
New York
"Piss break!" Erikson shouts as he brings the van to a halt by the side of the road. It's almost sunset, with the light starting to fade, and I guess we'll be looking for someone to stay the night soon. Climbing out, he starts walking into the nearby bushes, leaving me sitting in the back of the vehicle with Dawn. We've been driving for hours, and he still hasn't really responded to me. She just seems content to sit and stare in the distance, letting her body jolt about as the van speeds along these uneven roads.
"You need the bathroom?" I ask, worried that she might lack the necessary gumption to work out what she's supposed to do. I'm still a little cautious about her, and I'm starting to wonder if she's more than just traumatized. What if she's got a proper problem, maybe something that existed before all of this happened? Still, I feel kind of protective of her, almost like she's a stray dog I found in the middle of nowhere.
"Jesus Christ," Shauna says as she gets out of the truck, "can't the bitch even decide when to take a leak?"
I stare at Dawn, hoping to see some flicker of recognition, but she still seems blank. Without saying anything, I lean across and slide the door open before getting out of the van. To my surprise, when Shauna comes waddling around from the other side, I see that she's pregnant. Like, seven or eight months gone, with a big bump.
"Yeah," she mutters as she walks past me. "Good timing, huh?"
I turn and watch as she makes her way into the undergrowth. To be honest, I can't even begin to imagine what she's going to do with that baby. I mean, obviously she's going to give birth and try to raise it, but with the world in such turmoil, how the hell is that child ever going to have a chance? Suddenly I realize that I understand why she seems so angry with the world, and there's a part of me that wants to go and offer her some help. Then again, I guess she'll come to me if she needs anything.
"You girls drink?" Erikson asks as he emerges from the bushes, pulling up the zipper on the front of his trousers. "We've got quite a lot of beer, so if you fancy one, help yourselves. Only one, mind."
"I'm fine, thanks," I tell him, before making my way into the undergrowth. It takes me a few minutes to find a quiet, private spot, but eventually I manage to pee before cleaning myself and heading back toward the camper van. By the time I get there, I find that Erikson has pulled out some bottles of water from a box, and he's placed one on the table in front of Dawn, who's still sitting inside the vehicle.
"Your friend doesn't seem to want drink," he says.
"Dawn," I say, walking over to the door, "you really need to drink. I know you might not realize it, and I know you might not feel like it, but you've got to keep yourself healthy. You can't just shut down and stop living."
She turns and stares at me.
"You understand me, don't you?" I continue. "Dawn, you do speak English, don't you?"
She frowns.
"Give me a sign," I say. "Just nod if you understand."
Slowly, she nods.
"Good," I say, before taking a swig of water. "I really think you should have a drink. It doesn't have to be much, but you could die if you don't. No matter how bad you feel, you'll feel ten times worse if you let yourself get dehydrated." I wait for her to answer, but she seems lost in a daze, unable to do anything other than stare blankly at me. "Dawn, come on," I continue. "Don't be dumb. Just unscrew the top of the bottle and drink a little. Enough to keep you going, at least."
Finally, as if somehow my words have slowly managed to work their way through her mind, she picks up the bottle and does exactly what I told her to do. She seems more than a little confused, and I can't help but glance over at Erikson, who's watching this all unfold with a puzzled look on his face. I can see that he's basically thinking what I'm thinking, which is that whatever's wrong with Dawn, it's way more than just trauma or shock.
"Are we gonna get going, then?" Shauna shouts as she emerges from the undergrowth.
"Wait!" Erikson hisses at her.
Slowly, almost as if it hurts, Dawn puts the bottle to her mouth and takes a brief sip, before lowering it again.
"You need to drink more," I tell her, feeling a tightening sensation in my chest. Something's wrong here, and there's a look of fear in Dawn's eyes that makes me wonder if I made a big mistake by letting her tag along.
After a pause, she raises the bottle again, and this time she starts to drink all the water. As she tilts her head further back, however, I suddenly realize that most of the water is just pouring out the back of her skull, and dribbling down onto the floor.
"What the fuck?" Erikson says, taking a step back.
Dawn continues to 'drink', until the bottle is empty and the rest of the water has finished pouring through her head. Finally, she puts the bottle on the table and gets to her feet, shuffling out of the van and walking straight past me. As she goes, I see that there's water all over her back, mixed with what appears to be blood.
"What's wrong with her?" Shauna asks.
Before I can reply, Dawn stops and then drops to her knees, before toppling over and landing face-first in the dirt. My heart still racing, I walk cautiously over to her, and finally I spot something sticking out from under the hair that covers the back of her neck, glinting in the sun. Taking a deep breath, and fighting the urge to run, I kneel next to her and move the hair aside to reveal what appears to be a large piece of metal embedded in the back of her skull. Wedged deep, the metal must be stuck in her brain, which I guess explain the fact that she was so blank and unresponsive. It's hard to believe that she was even able to walk around, but I guess somehow the injury left her motor skills intact.
"Jesus," Erikson says, turning away. "What the fuck happened to her?"
"I have no idea," I say, feeling a cool sense of fear and sorrow rising through my body.
"Fuck," he continues. "She must be, like, brain dead or something."
"She's properly dead," I say, looking down at Dawn's face and seeing that her eyes are wide open, and she's not even responding to the specks of dirt and dust on her eyeball. Cautiously, I reach down and put my fingers against the side of her neck, and sure enough there's no pulse. "She's dead," I say again, before turning to the others. "I had no idea," I say, as I realize that my hands are shaking. "I swear to God, I thought she was just shocked."
"I told you not to pick them up!" Shauna screams.
"This isn't her fault!" Erikson replies, unable to stop staring at Dawn's body.
"I told you!" Shauna says, waddling around to the passenger side of the van. "Leave them here! They're not coming with us!"
"I'm sorry," I say quietly.
"We have to leave her," Erikson says. "You can come, Elizabeth, but she's dead. We can't take her body, and we don't have time to stop and bury her."
"She needs a grave," I reply.
"If you want to dig her a grave," he continues, "you can, but we're not going to wait for you." With that, he hurries back to the van.
"I'm sorry," I say, looking down at Dawn. "I have to go. I'm so sorry I couldn't..." My voice trails off as I realize that there's no way she can hear me. At least she's dead now, so the suffering is over. Getting to my feet, I hurry back to the van and climb inside.
"What's she doing here?" Shauna shouts.
"We can't leave her here," Erikson replies firmly. "She'll die."
"So?" Shauna continues, turning to me. "You've got no right to be here, you crazy fucking bitch! Get back out there with your fucked-up friend!"
"She's coming with us!" Erikson says,
starting the engine and hitting the gas pedal. As the van lurches into motion, I lean across and slide the door shut, before turning and looking out the back window and watching as Dawn's body disappears into the distance.
"I swear to God," Shauna says, staring straight ahead, "this is a fucking mistake."
Sitting in the back of the van, I realize there are tears in my eyes. It's crazy, but while I still haven't properly cried about Henry, I'm soon in floods of tears as I think about what happened to Dawn. I knew her for less than a day, and now I'm not even sure if I 'knew' her at all. Was she even capable of thought, or did she just follow me around in her brain-damaged state? I find it hard to believe that there was no hint of her mind in there somewhere, but with tears pouring down my face, I can't help trying to imagine what she must have been going through. Suddenly, as I look out the window and see the sun starting to dip below the horizon, a thought strikes me. When I first met Dawn, I was standing with the rising sun behind me; I remember the way she squinted and shielded her eyes from the sun. I take a deep breath as I realize that the only word she ever said to me, 'dawn', wasn't her name at all. She was just saying what she could see behind me.
I never knew her real name at all.
Thomas
Missouri
"Hey," I say, standing next to the back of the truck.
Joe's in no condition to reply. During the few hours I was inside the house, his condition has got way worse, to the point that he seems to be kind of delirious. There's fresh blood coming from his injuries, combined with white and yellow pus, and in his attempts to crawl away, he's ended up smearing everything all over his face and body. Before, I would have convinced myself that there's a way to fix all of this, but right now I've got this new kind of strength that's telling me I have to do the right thing. Not the easy thing, and not the thing I want, but the thing that's right and moral and good.