by E. E. Borton
It was everywhere. It didn’t matter what I did, I couldn’t get it off of me. A friend who was a firefighter told me it sticks to you as the burning fat and fluids produce a greasy smoke. He said you could feel it as if somebody had sprayed you with a thin mist of rancid Crisco. I thought he may have been embellishing.
He wasn’t.
When my mind started to break through the trauma of killing – burning – five people, I became more aware of my surroundings. Kennesaw Mountain helped. The topography around metro-Atlanta is hilly but consistent. The mountain was like a massive pimple on clear skin. It was also twenty miles from my apartment. And two miles off of my planned route.
Leaving the asphalt I found myself walking on a trail through the woods. I didn’t know why I was deviating from my route until I reached the spot. She was sitting on a boulder with a beaming smile. My God, she was beautiful.
“I’ll never get tired of this view,” said Sam. “Do you remember the first time you brought me up here?”
“How could I forget?” I said, taking off my backpack and sitting beside her. “It’s where I made my first move on you. Do you remember what you did to me?”
“That, I’ll never forget,” said Sam, laughing. “I wish you could’ve seen the look on your face when you leaned in all cocky and glowing. It was priceless.”
“I wasn’t sure what to do after you told me it needed to be the best kiss of your life, or it would be our last.” I said. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“It was the best kiss of my life, sweetheart,” said Sam, reducing the laugh to a warm smile. “It really was.”
She reached over and took my hand in hers. As she turned away from me to admire the view, I kept my eyes on her. She was flawless. She was as bright, radiant, and real as I ever remembered. It was good to see her after what I had to do earlier in the day.
“I did hear him,” said Sam, holding her stare outward.
“Hear who?”
“The man you were hurting,” said Sam, turning to look me in the eyes. “I heard him apologize to me.”
I dropped my head. I felt ashamed for using that beautiful face as the reason for ending their lives in such a horrific way.
“I’m sorry, baby,” I said. “I shouldn’t have used your memory like that.”
“And I want you to use it every time,” said Sam, getting my attention. “They killed three people like they killed me, probably more. They were going to take from you, beat you, and then burn you. And they wouldn’t have stopped unless we stopped them. Do you remember feeling me steady your hands?”
“I do.”
“I will always steady your hands. I will always be with you.”
“You’re okay with what I did?” I asked.
“I’m okay with anything you have to do to stay alive, to keep you from getting hurt. Anything.”
“I miss you so much,” I said, unable to hold back tears. “I wish you were with me. It’s like the entire world has stopped working. I’m scared, Sam. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
She reached up, pulling me into her. The smell of burnt flesh disappeared as I inhaled her perfume. She ran her fingers through my hair as she squeezed me tighter into her shoulder.
“It’s okay,” whispered Sam. “It’s okay to feel this way. Let it out, sweet boy.”
I did. I can’t remember the last time I cried.
“Help her,” said Sam.
“Help who?”
A high pitched bark at my side caused me to turn away from her. The tiny dog wasn’t much bigger than the shoe it was trying to bite. I smiled and turned back to Sam.
I missed her the second she was gone.
“Easy big fella,” I said, reaching down and picking up the yelping varmint. “Where did you come from?”
I stood and looked down the trail. I had to squint to see the elderly woman leaning against a tree. Even at that distance I could tell she was trying to stabilize herself. I grabbed my pack and made my way down with Varmint.
“Oh, thank you, Jesus,” said the old woman. “I don’t know what got into her. She just took off running.”
“I think she wanted my shoes,” I said, handing her the dog with the leash dangling.
“You scared me to death, Scarlett. Thank you so much, young man. My name is Emma.”
“You’re very welcome Ms. Emma,” I said. “You really shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”
“Being by myself isn’t a choice,” said Emma. “My girlfriend Gladys hasn’t come around in two days. She walks with me and Scarlett almost every afternoon. She helps me with things, you know.”
“How does she get to your house?”
“She lives about five miles away, so she drives,” said Emma. “That old goat scares me to death behind a wheel, but they keep renewing her license.”
“She’s not driving anymore,” I said. “It’s not just the power that’s out. Cars, busses, trains, anything with a motor has stopped working.”
“Well, isn’t that peculiar,” said Emma. “When do you think they’ll get ‘em going again?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m sure they’ll get everything working fine soon. They always do. Thank you again for saving my Scarlett. At least she’s working.”
Emma strained to bend over and put Scarlett on the ground. She strained again, holding the dog back from pulling her down the trail.
Help her.
Okay, Sam. Okay.
“Ms. Emma,” I said. “Would you allow me the pleasure of walking you and Scarlet home?”
“Oh, no, young man,” said Emma. “I’m sure you have other things to do besides walk an old woman home. It’s not far. We’ll be fine.”
“It would make my day, Ms. Emma. It really would.”
“Well, then. I’m all yours,” said Emma, not hesitating a second time.
Emma offered me the leash, and I offered her my arm. Taking care, stepping over the roots, we made our way back to the road.
“This is nice,” said Emma as we approached her house.
Nice? This old woman had no clue what’s happening around her.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had an escort. And by such a handsome young man. You know, I have a son about your age. Just as handsome, too.”
“Does he live close?”
“Oh, I apologize,” said Emma, shaking her head. “Sometimes I get a little jumbled up with my words. No, I lost my boy ten years ago. He got very sick, you know. My poor angel.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Emma. Your kids should never go before you.”
“Ain’t that the truth? But I still have my other two angels, Helen and Sophia. Both my girls are doing so good, and to think they have babies of their own now. Where does the time go? Lord, but those tiny, little faces make me smile. Oh, listen to me go on and on. Tell me about yourself. Do you live near here?”
“I live in Midtown,” I answered as Emma patted my arm. “But I’m heading for my parents’ house in the mountains. I plan on waiting this thing out up there.”
“You’re walking all the way to the mountains?”
“Right now it’s the only way to get around.”
“Child, that’s a hundred miles away. How long is that gonna take you?”
“Five or six days.”
Emma stopped walking.
“Where are you gonna stay tonight?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I put twenty miles under these shoes today. I’m a little beat. I have plenty of supplies, so I may just borrow your woods tonight if that’s okay.”
“No, sir, you won’t,” said Emma, furrowing her brow. “My home is yours tonight. You’re going to let me cook you a nice hot meal, and I have two spare rooms. No, sir, you’re staying right here.”
“Ms. Emma, you have to be careful with your generosity. There are going to be people looking to take what you have. Do you understand?”
“I do, handsome. I’m old, but I didn’t survive eighty-three years being a
fool. I know something has gone terribly wrong with this world and it won’t get better anytime soon. I can feel it in the air.”
“Then you do understand,” I said. “Most people won’t until it’s too late.”
“Do you plan on taking what I have?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Good enough for me,” said Emma. “I’ll be more careful with my generosity tomorrow. But you would be making an old woman feel very useful today if you let me make you dinner and give you a place to rest. You can leave in the morning after a good night’s sleep on a full stomach. How does that sound?”
“It sounds wonderful, Ms. Emma. Thank you.”
With the argument settled we left the road and entered the house. The history of Emma’s life was everywhere. The afternoon sun fired beams of light across countless picture frames. There were moments caught in black and white, showing the faces and weird clothes of her childhood; faded colors displayed the lives and experiences of her children; and the most brilliant colors showed me the newest, little faces of her grandchildren who made her smile.
“Those are my babies,” said Emma, returning to the living room with a glass of sweet tea.
“They look like a handful,” I said.
“Sweetie, I’ll take two handfuls of them all day,” said Emma, pausing.
I knew where her thoughts were going. I knew she was worried she’d never see them again. I was almost sure of it.
“Well, I offered you a hot meal,” said Emma, forcing herself away from the painful thoughts. “But sometimes my head gets as jumbled as my words. I have an electric stove.”
I smiled. “That’s not going to be a problem. What did you have in mind to cook up?”
“Pork chops,” said Emma, gleaming. “I’ve got a yearning for pork chops tonight. I have a grill out back and plenty of charcoal. What do you say you and I have ourselves a proper barbeque?”
“Grilling pork chops happens to be my specialty,” I said, telling her the truth.
I headed out back and Ms. Emma headed into the kitchen. Both of us were wearing smiles. We knew the world was about to become a dark and dangerous place to live. But for tonight we were both safe.
As the sun was setting, a campfire held back the darkness. Pork chops were searing to perfection as Scarlett was losing her mind by the grill. If anyone had walked into that backyard, it would’ve been difficult explaining to them what we both knew was coming.
Ms. Emma brought out a red-and-white checkered cloth and set a magnificent table. She lit a candelabrum, pouring warm light over our meal. She returned to the house with purpose after adding more touches of home and sincerity to our barbeque. When she returned I stood and pulled out her chair. She was wearing her Sunday best. And she was radiant.
For hours we talked about our families, our lives, and our loves before the event at 8:13. She carried most of the conversation, knowing I didn’t mind the distraction. The evening sky was flawless and brilliant. The lack of ambient light – and smog – gave us a view few have ever seen.
“We need to go inside now,” said Ms. Emma, ending her story.
“Are you okay?”
“It’s coming.”
“What’s coming?”
I was fixated on her as she scanned overhead. I turned my gaze to follow hers. A few seconds later the green wave rolled across the sky, turning night into day.
Chapter 7
(Day 3)
Tiny Bubbles
After walking twenty miles at a brisk pace, sleep came easy. The only uneasy part was the dreams. They were a mosaic of fire, light, fear, and love. Sam didn’t come to me in my sleep. She seemed to have made the transition to a more comforting form while I was awake. I looked around the room for her but only saw pastel colors and stuffed animals stacked to the ceiling. The memory of her perfume was replaced with the smell of bacon.
The light storm was less intense than it was the first evening but it lasted much longer. It seemed to have reserved most of its power for the city, leaving the windows of the house intact. I made my bed and took great care to leave the room as I found it.
Noticing the water pressure had dropped, I filled her bathtubs to the rim. With no power to run the pumps, the pipes would soon be dry. And before they dried up completely, the clean water would be mixing with raw sewage. I wanted to leave Ms. Emma with every ounce of clean water possible.
I found her hovering over the grill, flipping those wonderful strips of meat. She didn’t notice me as I stood behind her thinking about the day before. My morning and evening couldn’t have been more different. I started the day blasting my way through trouble and ended it in a soft bed with few worries. The thought of leaving that kind woman alone was weighing heavy on my mind. I knew she didn’t have much food in the house, but she was offering the best that she had.
“That smells delicious,” I said.
“Good morning, handsome. Did you sleep well?”
“Like a baby.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful. This is almost ready. Why don’t you fetch us some plates and something cool to drink? I think it’s going to be a hot one today.”
Opening the freezer, I saw several small cubes floating in a container of water. Once again, she was offering me the best that she had. Neither one of us would be having iced tea again for a very long time; if ever. Setting the table, I sat down to enjoy another meal.
“I already know your answer,” said Ms. Emma, “but I’m going to invite you anyway to stay another day or so. I slept like a baby, too. Most of the reason being you under my roof.”
I put my fork down and looked at her. “Ms. Emma, I’m not going to tell you how things started for me yesterday, but I will tell you it wasn’t good. I thought I wouldn’t be seeing good for a long time. Then I met you and Scarlett, and that changed.”
“There’s always gonna be good out there, child,” said Ms. Emma. “In the coming days it may be harder to find out there on the road, but it’s there. You just gotta trust in people sometimes. You gotta trust that there’s good in their hearts. The same way I saw the good in yours.”
“I can’t stay, Ms. Emma. But I’m having a tough time thinking about leaving you behind. You’ve lived a beautiful life. You don’t deserve to be hurt. And that good out there you talk about, it won’t be enough to stop the bad.”
She reached across the table and patted my hand. “I dream every night about being with my boys again, my son and my husband. When the good Lord decides it’s time for me to go to them, I fear not how I get there.”
“Ms. Emma, I –”
“Don’t you worry about me,” she said, knowing what I was going to say next. “If trouble comes to my door, I’ll be answering it with the Word in one hand and a frying pan in the other, amen.”
“Amen.”
We finished our last meal together – talking about her babies – and I gathered my gear. I tried once again, asking her to lock her doors and prepare for the worst in people. As I reached the top of the hill that would take me out of sight of her house, I turned. Ms. Emma was still defying me, standing out in the open at her front gate, watching my back.
She raised her arm, waving with a final goodbye. I could only hope to meet another person as warm and comforting as Ms. Emma. But I doubted it. That woman was one of a kind.
Thank you, Sam.
Ms. Emma’s weather prediction was correct. It was early morning, but the temperature was beginning to soar. I knew the area well, deciding to enter the woods of a national park and use the canopy of the trees for shade. It would add an hour or so to my trip for the day, but I wasn’t exactly pressed for time. Being pressed would come soon enough.
At that moment, before entering the woods, I realized I had walked along the road for a while without seeing another soul. Three days into the event, people were starting to understand this was more than just a power outage. They were realizing that they were disconnected from the rest of the world outside of their immediate area. All their informa
tion, all their communication, and all their personal contact were reduced to a tiny bubble around them.
Understanding the disturbing changes, people were staying inside the only environment they felt they could control. (It would be the end of most of them in populated areas.) Their homes would only temporarily keep out the fear – and the cowards. But eventually both would find a way inside. And when they did, they would take everything. They would leave nothing but bodies in their wake.
I knew in a few days most would have to venture out looking for supplies. A short period after that they would no longer care about how they got them. The have-nots would take from the haves. Good people would be forced – by fear – to turn bad. Like me, they’d be looking to save their own lives or the lives of their families. I had the advantage. I was the only mouth I needed to feed. I was the only life I needed to preserve.
In less than two weeks, I wouldn’t be able to walk among them. I’d already faced a few opportunists. A father looking to save his babies from starvation would be far more dangerous than any thug. Loving parents would become my new enemies. They would become lethal obstacles between me and survival.
I can kill a coward. I didn’t know if I could kill a family’s hero.
Not far into the woods I was overwhelmed with the smell of fuel. After a few more steps, looking up, I found the source. A small commuter aircraft was wedged fifty-feet above the ground between two trees.
I found myself reaching to my hip where my cell phone was normally holstered. Feeling nothing there, I stood silent, shaking my head. Even if I could’ve magically transported them to an ER, if anyone in that plane was alive, they wouldn’t be for long.
The nose of it was pointing straight down. A man, I’m guessing the pilot, was draped over the front of the fuselage. A wide streak of dried blood painted the panel of the engine compartment. A vulture and several black birds were fighting and eating at the same time.
Something had ripped open the side of the plane as if a giant hand had used a can opener. I saw a woman held suspended in the air by a seat belt. Birds were perched above her seat, waiting their turn.