This didn’t please the well-meaning man. Taking charge of the retreat had given him a desperately needed distraction from the guilt he felt for loved ones left behind. He’d noticed Ava this morning; she reminded him of his niece. What he noticed most was the fact that in spite of everything they had endured today, she never shed a single tear. When he felt himself falling into a deep pit of despair he turned to see a five-year-old girl facing the end of days with a smile.
Jessica lovingly ran her fingers through Ava’s hair. Paul felt the love between them. The bond between the dynamic mother/daughter duo was stronger than the apocalypse. Ava was strong for her mommy, who in turn desperately fought to be strong for her. He smiled and added, “can I trust you to keep that mommy of yours under control?”
Finally Ava giggled. Her soft giggle sweetly warmed everyone around them. All day they heard whispers, anger, sobs and cries. It was easy to forget how magical a giggle can actually become. Paul felt accomplished and moved onto the next row. Ava leaned against Jessica’s shoulder. A faint snore soon indicated sleep at last won the battle with the brave little girl.
Exhaustion struck the young mother with a potent quickness. She was ready to be done with this day, to be done with this trip. Thoughts of what the next day would bring terrified her more than dwelling on what had already occurred. The bus-darkened bus felt oddly claustrophobic. Looking through the tinted glass windows had the same false comfort as peering through the bars in a shark diving cage. Her thoughts exploited the tired contemplation to shake her resolve. They raged, “I trusted my daughter’s safety in a box with half inch thick walls. What the hell was I thinking?”
Stress from the needless evaluation of their circumstances was exhausting. Jessica was drained, physically and emotionally drained. She would have rather sat through her own wake than cope with the pent up worry for another minute. A wet spot formed on her shoulder where Ava’s drooling mouth rested. Finally her brain shut down, succumbing to slumber.
Chapter Twelve
If it were any other day, the sun would have been blinding by then. The massive trench carved out of the trees by the James River creates a perfect line of sight for the rising ball of burning gas in the sky. Their parking spot on the bridge should have placed them directly in that line, bathing the side of the bus opposite to where the two girls slept in morning light. Of course, this wasn’t just any other day.
Light returned to the area at an unnaturally slow rate. Daylight gradually escaped the chokehold of night an hour after the sun’s true custody began. Night, aided by pollutants thrown in the air by a crumbling society, stubbornly clung to the landscape. For an hour past sunrise the haze refused to allow diurnal creatures their natural right to flourish. Where as, the unholy nocturnal ones rampantly spread in areas not too separate from the river crossing.
Jessica awoke in a groggy fog. Ava was wide awake, waiting patiently for her mother to return to the living. A familiar smell entered her nostrils. “Why does it smell like…” she mumbled before getting interrupted.
Ava chimed in, “like bacon? It IS bacon silly.”
Her mouth was dry and sticky. It felt like the corners of her lips were glued together as she spoke. A little hand passed a water bottle over from which she took a generous sip. “Thanks baby. Who has bacon? It smells amazing.”
“A car over there,” Ava said while pointing ahead and to the right, “has camping stuff. I think they are cooking it.”
The thought of someone frying a pan of bacon in the traffic jam was as interesting as it was peculiar. She wondered what other varying levels of disaster preparedness their fellow gridlock neighbors had. Then she noticed how alert Ava was and asked, “how long have you been awake?”
“I dunno,” the little girl answered sheepishly, worrying about getting in trouble for being up so early. “Noises outside woke me up. I’m sorry.”
Jessica kissed her head and reassured, “it’s fine. Just know we’re not skipping nap today, alright?”
She sighed heavily, “yes mommy.”
Soon the whole bus began to rise. Most non-whispered comments were centered around the topic of the heavenly aroma leeching into their cabin from several car lengths ahead. A steady procession to the facilities in the rear continued for an hour until they were all awake. Increasingly disgruntled conversation hinted that cabin fever was more prevalent than sunlight. Paul stood at the front partaking in a one-way conversation with Frank. He watched his assigned flock with a curious eye. It didn’t take long for attention to turn to their appointed leader.
The woman with the heavy New York accent asked, “how are we handling breakfast?”
“When can we get some fresh air? With all the walking back here I’m not exactly smelling the bacon you all are yammering on about….” said a man near the bathroom who wasn’t exactly trying to hide his displeasure. A cabin-wide chuckle answered his sarcastic plea.
Paul knew it was time to assert control, “good morning! I hope you all slept well. Although the conditions aren’t ideal, I appreciate you all committing to a night of rest that we all sorely needed. God has blessed us with another day on this Earth.” He paused unnecessarily to let his supposedly profound statement sink in. Jessica rolled her eyes at the speech; Ava caught her in the act. Then Paul went on, “I know breakfast is at the top of our to do list - our camping neighbors out there have certainly reminded us of that!”
Frank stood up, startling Paul with a hand placed on his shoulder. He pushed the man a few inches to the side in order to speak past his large frame, “enough already, Paul. These people are too hungry to listen to your standup routine.” Stifled laughter confirmed the bus driver’s jab.
The large man’s face turned so red that Jessica expected to feel the heat radiating off him from their seat. He stuttered something incomprehensible. “Now, now,” Frank toned down the sarcasm, “I didn’t mean to pick on you.... Right now I need a smoke break more than breakfast. So why don’t I step out to check the area? It’ll nip this raging headache I got while setting y’all up for breakfast. You can close the door behind me then I’ll come knocking with an all clear. But hey - you’re in charge, so it’s your call.”
Tempers cooled. Paul’s shoulders rose with some return confidence. His teeth showed in a goofily proud smile, “don’t you know smoking isn’t good for you?”
“If a cigarette is what does me in, then I’ll be the luckiest guy still breathin’.” Frank said dryly while operating the crank for the door.
The change in pressure from piercing their nightlong bubble of air reminded Jessica of takeoff in an airplane. Air wafted inward carrying hints of a far away burn highlighted by the previously tantalizing odor. Frank exited then Paul promptly secured the door. His nervousness showed in his stance with a steady tapping of his foot and sweat dripping from his brow. A hushed tension hung over the cabin. They wanted time out of the bus almost as much as they wanted to begin the day with a proper meal.
Two or three minutes later a hand slapped twice against the glass door. The suddenness of the sound caused Jessica to jump as two rows back someone let out a startled gasp. Visibly relieved, Paul announced, “that’s the all clear ya’ll. Let’s go set up breakfast! The rules from yesterday still apply. Stick with your buddy and stay close if you wanna eat.”
Jessica tried to see over the other side to get a fix on where Frank was. A plume of smoke, exaggerated by the cool morning air, gave his location away. She wondered how much the man actually checked the area for safety. Something about that morning didn’t sit right with her. Her hand wandered into the bag with the .38 special revolver. The smooth metal contours were cool to the touch. Paranoia urged her to pocket the weapon.
It wasn’t until she saw the vast majority of their fellow bus mates bundling up for a trip outside that she decided to keep the gun in its place. “Safety in numbers,” she thought. Prying eyes on judgmental people worried her more than any nearby infected creatures. Ava took a cue from the others and zippe
d her coat.
“Ready, Mommy?” asked the eager young lady.
She nodded with a fake smile. “Let some of the others out first. Then we’ll go. There’s no rush; plenty of breakfast to go around.” A line of people quickly formed beside them. It wasn’t until a dozen of their group had exited that Jessica gave Ava the go ahead. In a brightly colored blur the girl made it to the door. Jessica had to sprint to catch up. Semi-scolding, she reminded, “slow down, baby girl. Remember that you’re my buddy. We’re in this together.”
A light breeze greeted them instantly out the door. Sounds of mingling gridlocked neighbors blended with the persistent trickle of rapids beneath them. Pops of far away gunfire were hardly discernable over the morning refugee symphony. At first glance, the uniformed might think they’d entered a massive tailgating party. Closer inspection revealed the scenario for what it truly was. Gloom from a burning cityscape stained the sky on the side of the railroad bridge. Amongst the social gatherings of over packed vehicles was an occasional car locked tight with a tired, solemn occupant leering at those walking around.
As Ava urged Jessica towards the side of the bridge she took it all in. Her stomach gurgled with hunger masking a pit of anxiety. This truly was the calm before the storm, it was an emotionally vampiric realization. She felt like a patient waiting for a cancer diagnosis; uncertainty over the inevitable certainty of demise. A nearby bout of laughter broke her grim thought process. “Snap out of it, Jess. You can’t do this to her,” commanded her thoughts. No matter what happened to them, she was determined to be strong for her daughter to the bitter end. Here of all places, a nervous breakdown wasn’t an option.
In moments they reached the wall. Ava instantly found her place to peer over, not wasting a moment of valuable sightseeing time. Slipping between one of the slots formed by concrete and metal, she began to describe what was beyond the bridge and far beneath them. Jessica still battled with the anxiety attempting to cripple her from within. It muted her senses, numbing her to all things but the thumping within her chest. Thoughts urging her to fight the mental fog continued to reprimand her actions. The long steel rail topping the wall was so cold to the touch when she placed a hand on it, trying to steady her wobbly stance.
Then Ava turned to tell her something about the river. Framed inside of a fuzzy purple hood, her lips moved under a red nose. Words came out but to Jessica they were unintelligible mumbles. She faked it by smiling and nodding. Ava continued with a bit more vigor; pointing over the bridge. Assuming they were talking about the river or some feature on the landscape Jessica said back, “I see, hon. Good eye.”
For a five year old, Ava was quite skilled in the detection of when an adult ignored her. Again she said something and pointed. Her expression blended excitement and trepidation. A disgruntled child proved distracting enough to add volume to her mother’s deaf ears. Jessica still missed whatever was being said. She watched Ava’s mouth, realizing that the same thing was being repeated. Focusing on the repeated motion brought more volume. Finally she asked, “what is it, Ava? Why are you getting so antsy?”
At last she heard most of the response. Ava explained, “....in the river! I swear, Mommy!”
“What’s in the river?” Jessica moved to look over the rail as the little girl innocently answered.
“The people. They are swimming down there. Can you believe that?! I wish we could go swimming!”
A generous contribution from regional rains turned the peaceful Richmond focal point into a deluge. The water was the color of coffee with slightly too much creamer added. Smoothed rocks that normally dotted the waters were obscured from sight by the swollen rapids. Safety regulations are strictly enforced during flood stages. Any native of the area knows not to willfully enter the river during these times; there are better ways to kill yourself than that.
Jessica knew this about the river. She was envious of Ava’s innocent naiveté because she couldn’t escape the truth. A dreadful pit burrowed slightly deeper in Jessica’s stomach as she peered over the side because she knew what was down there before looking. The little girl was thankfully too intrigued to pick up on her mom’s hesitation. “Do you see them, Mommy?” Ava persisted.
She wished she hadn’t. Some sights cannot be unseen. Corpses littered the river intermittently. They were all different, like rotting snowflakes trickling from a putrid sky. Each had its own uniquely terrifying appearance emerging from the caramel colored waters. Many splashed at the current in a bout of undead confusion; their primal drive ill-equipped to process the predicament. More simply floated along. It was difficult to tell if the still ones were reanimated without any reaction to their bodies scraping against any larger debris that normally belonged in a flooded river.
It was inconsequential whether they were alive, dead or otherwise. In her panic-stricken mind they were all components of a horrid torrent of souls that would bubble up to consume all that she held dear. Jessica couldn’t let Ava see this. The silly view of people swimming in dirty water was the one she needed to keep. If the little girl looked any longer she might notice the missing limbs and mangled faces. She pulled her stare away from the river, finally releasing her held breath. Then her hand found a grip on the bright sleeve covering Ava’s elbow.
“We don’t need to look over the bridge anymore,” Jessica strongly suggested.
“Just a little longer. Please, Mommy?” The little one tried to deploy her weaponized sad-puppy face. “It’s fun watching the silly people.”
“No. Come on, hon.”
She whined, “pleeeeaasseee Mommy!”
Fire of parental scorn burned in her eyes. “No.”
Ava got louder. Her tiny feet stomped on the bridge. Noise from various breakfast preparations blocked the tantrum from any other prying ears. As Ava prepared another defiant protest Jessica pulled her closer. Calm and sternly she repeated, “NO. Do not fight me. This is no place for a little girl. Do NOT look back over the bridge. There is nothing more to see. Do you understand me, Ava?”
Tears welled up in her eyes. Jessica instantly felt bad for being so forceful until a hint of splashing sounds from the human driftwood below quelled any sympathy. Paul’s voice called over, “breakfast is ready, ladies!”
“I love you, baby girl. You have to understand that the things I say are usually because I do love you so much. Some breakfast will make us both feel better. Sound good?” she asked in a much cooler tone.
Curly brown hair slowly bobbed up and down with the answer. Ava sniffled as she wiped a tear onto her pink and purple sleeve. They walked back to the bus side by side.
Chapter Thirteen
Breakfast brought about all the pomp and circumstance of a soup kitchen. They were all worn, tired and impatient. Contingency plans were foolishly excluded from the church’s retreat arrangements. By now they should be waking in personal rooms with their first meal being served in a nice cafeteria. A retreat away from hometown danger is what they all paid for, not a camping trip on a gridlocked bridge high above a tumultuous river. Many church attendees had an old fashioned sense of Southern entitlement that didn’t mesh well with their predicament.
This attitude is why Jessica didn’t bother making friends with the others. As a much more grounded individual, common threads were hard to find. She spent every saved penny for their seats on that bus. Weeks of news reports about the spreading pandemic terrified her enough to write the check. Their being there was a contingency plan. Hearing the pompous tone in the conversations around them got under her skin more than she should have allowed it to. Irritation was a welcomed feeling over the debilitating anxiety she felt minutes before.
It appeared as if multiple cars in their area were completely abandoned. People took what they could carry, left their vehicles and walked onward. Two such cars were parked directly to the right of the bus, next to their eating area. The local vacancies were opportunistic for the retreat. It extended their bubble of influence without bumping heads with other clusters t
hat formed throughout the daylong gridlock.
Several dozen assorted single-serving boxes of breakfast cereal were lined up on the compartment hatch-turned-table. A crate of two percent milk cartons was placed at the foot of the impromptu buffet. Retreat members lined up to take their pick of the sugar-filled offering. Then they took their choice either back inside the bus or leaned up against the abandoned cars while enjoying their simple meal.
A nearby neighbor cautiously approached from behind the bus. Paul rushed to intercept from his watchful position beyond the breakfast lines. This man was the first to approach their group at the actual bus; they’d socialized briefly with others the day before but only away from their central hub. He looked timid, almost with a burdening force visually weighing on his shoulders. Walking up to the group of church socialites was an obvious chore for the scrawny man.
Paul slowed a few feet from him with his hands extended outward. All conversation around the cereal buffet ceased in a curious anticipation. Their leader looked one and a half times the size of the approaching neighbor. When Paul spoke he seemed to broadcast his voice more than necessary almost like he wanted the whole area to hear. “Whoa there, friend,” he bellowed. “We’d love to get to know you but let’s chat after breakfast. We got a little girl and some older folks here so I don’t want anyone getting spooked.” Jessica’s blood boiled at his use of Ava as a deterrent.
The Reaper Virus (Short Story): Sarcophagus Page 6