by May, L M
Gemma was already sore, and there was a dull ache in her bones from the bike seat.
Unable to bear the pressure in her bladder any longer, Gemma studied the area, looking for a discreet spot to go. She stood up, unable to stop the shame that filled her at the idea, even though there wasn't any other alternative. “Um – I'll be back in a minute.”
“Why are you walking like that?”
“The seat. It hurts.”
“Why didn't you say something? Saddle soreness will only get worse.”
Gemma ducked behind a bush. What would be the point of saying anything? It wasn't like she could do anything about the seat.
When she returned Christopher was fiddling around with her bike.
“Come here,” he said when he saw her.
Christopher adjusted the seat of the bike several times, making her ride a few yards with each adjustment. When he was done, she wished she'd said something earlier.
The sound of an engine in the distance had them both reaching for their binoculars.
A baby-blue sedan wove slowly between the lanes.
People stopped and stared as it approached. Some tried to flag it down, the more reckless becoming increasingly daring as the car moved steadily forward without stopping. Playing chicken, they waited until the last possible moment before leaping out of the way.
Gemma's heart was in her throat. Someone was going to get hurt.
People reached for the vehicle, their hands brushing along the sides as it passed.
A startled cry escaped Gemma's lips as a woman stepped in front of the car, holding her child up in appeal.
The car slowed, seemed to hesitate, then veered onto the grass, passing around them.
The woman just stood there, watching the car, still holding her daughter out in front of her.
“I wonder if the radio's working?” Gemma mused as it reached them, tempted to step in front of the car herself.
“That would explain why there's so many people on the road,” Christopher said darkly.
Gemma stared at him; it took her a moment to process what he'd said.
Yesterday, when the others assumed the static meant all the stations were off-air, and that the whole country had been affected, Gemma explained that the magnetic energy in the air could affect the signals for some time.
The interference should be long gone by now.
“I didn't think the road would be this busy yet,” Christopher said. “I thought this sort of – of migration – wouldn't happen until there was nothing left. That people would still be expecting someone to come to their rescue.”
“There's actually not that many people, really,” Gemma said. “Not when you think about how big the city and the surrounding suburbs are.”
Christopher's look was incredulous. “Not many people? These are only the ones that left at the crack of dawn. Maybe even earlier. Before the rest of the city was even awake.”
“That's why you were anxious to get out of the city so quickly?”
Christopher nodded. “I figured if I felt such a strong urge to go back home, there would be plenty of others thinking the same way. Then there's all the people who would have been stranded. Airports for example, or like the people on that bus. Not to mention all the people who commute to work.”
They watched the sedan silently as it passed, the elderly woman in the passenger's seat staring resolutely forward, tears trailing down her cheeks. A woman with a kind face, someone's grandmother. Her husband beside her.
How hard had it been to drive past so many people in need when in another time, on any other day, they might have stopped to offer assistance?
The next hour was hard going, the highway slowly getting steeper and steeper as they came to higher country. And they hadn't even reached the mountains proper yet.
Off to the right was Peak Mountain, and beyond it was the source of the smoke. A thick, gloomy, broiling cloud that hung heavily over the area.
As the signs ticked off the distance to the Peak Mountain exit, a man rode past them on a bicycle, heading toward the city. This wasn't all that unusual a sight, there had been others doing the same. Motorists who'd been stranded coming home.
But as they got closer to the exit it became a more regular occurrence.
“What do you think is going on?” Gemma asked, her muscles protesting as she struggled up the incline.
A young family walking toward the city heard her, and a man with a scruffy beard answered. “They're not letting anyone else in.”
Gemma and Christopher slowed.
“Letting them in where?” Christopher asked.
“Peak Mountain. They said they can't take anyone else. They're just letting everyone fill up their water bottles and making them move on.”
Gemma and Christopher rode on in silence, worrying for all the people heading toward the well known reservoir that fed the north parts of the city. How many of them had used the last of their water just to make the journey? Where would they go?
Gemma reached for her drink as they approached a weary looking group.
A mother pushed a stroller, moving slowly. A small boy – maybe four or five – was stumbling beside her on weary legs, wearing long black pants and a deep purple button-up shirt. Behind them lagged a girl of about six, crying softly, wearing a pretty navy blue dress.
A thin, frail woman shuffled resolutely ahead, leaning heavily on a wheeled walking frame with a basket attached to the front. The sturdy-looking man at her side was doing his best to support her, but it was obvious she couldn't go much further.
The boy looked up as they passed, the juice bottle that he was carrying almost empty. He lifted it to his lips, but before he could drink any, his mother took it off him without saying a word. She screwed the cap on and placed it on top of the stroller.
A look passed between Gemma and Christopher. It was still a good distance to the Peak Mountain exit. All of it uphill.
“We have to tell them,” Gemma said softly.
Christopher slowed down, and Gemma stopped beside him, glad for the chance to stretch her legs as she eased herself off the bike.
The young boy was staring thirstily at the drink in her hand, and feeling guilty, Gemma quickly put it in the drink holder.
Surely they had more – maybe in the bottom of the stroller. She was surprised to see they weren't carrying any luggage. Not so much as a plastic grocery bag.
“Are you headed for Peak Mountain?” Christopher asked.
The woman pushing the stroller looked at him, a tentative smile crossing her lips as she nodded her head.
“I heard they aren't taking any more people,” Gemma said softly.
“I know,” the woman said tearfully. “But we don't know where else to go. And we've already been walking for hours.”
“Our van broked,” the boy said, coming over to stare up at Gemma.
“Did it?” Gemma said. That explained why they had nothing with them. “Is that the only drink you have for all of you?” She pointed at the juice. The boy was about the same age as CJ.
“Yep,” the girl said, her tears stopping at the distraction. “We had to sleep in the car.”
“Is that right?” Gemma asked the freckle-faced girl.
The girl nodded her head matter-of-factly, her dark pony tail swinging. Her cute little button nose creased as she squinted up at Gemma, revealing a missing front tooth. “The whole city got nuked.”
“Is it true?” asked the older man. He had a thick swatch of white-gray hair, and looked to be in his late fifties.
The old woman swayed on her feet, and the man steadied her.
“Jimmy – see if that car's locked.” The man pointed at a shiny blue late-model car. “Nanny needs to rest for a bit.”
Jimmy ran over and tugged at the handle. “It's locked,” he shouted.
The little girl rose to the challenge, spotting something the boy hadn't. “The window is open, you dummy,” she said, reaching in.
“Come on,
Mom,” the man said, lifting the frail woman as though she weighed nothing. He balanced her precariously on top of the walker, her bony bottom sinking into the wire basket.
“You should just leave me,” the woman said, her voice a soft crackle. “My Davey's waiting for me.” She looked up at the sky, her milky blue eyes glazing over.
“We just buried my father,” the man explained.
“I'm sorry to hear that,” Gemma said automatically, not liking herself very much when it crossed her mind that the children would have a better chance of survival without the old woman slowing them down.
While they were talking, Christopher dug around in the trailer, being careful not to expose the contents. She didn't blame him. The family hadn't eaten since the day before, and if the children crowding him saw their meager supply of food, it would be hard not to give it to them with those big hungry eyes staring at him.
What they had wouldn't even go close to filling the hole in their hungry bellies, but if they were careful, they could stretch it enough to get them home.
Hell – what they had any one of them could eat in one sitting.
Gemma hated that it had come to this. That she was even thinking this way. But what else could they do? She had CJ to worry about.
She needed to get home as soon as possible. Seeing the frail old woman only emphasized this.
Would Daphne know where to look when they ran out of water? And there was still the worry they were stuck in Carlisle. That they were all alone, with only the dead car to sleep in.
Gemma looked down when she realized the little girl was talking to her. “What's that, sweetie?”
“Are we all gonna die?” the girl asked, and Gemma wished she had kept her mouth shut.
18
Christopher watched Gemma's face change as the girl's words rang in the air.
“Of course we're not.” Christopher knelt down beside the frightened girl, holding out the carton of long-life milk he'd dug out of the trailer. The child was about the same age as his niece, Mackenzie.
“See this here – this isn't just any ordinary old milk.”
“It isn't?” the girl asked, big brown eyes on the milk.
“Nope. It's magic milk.”
“It is?” Her eyes widened.
“Sure is. But it only works when you are being good. So you have to do whatever your mom tells you, okay?”
“I will. I promise.” The girl's eyes shone as she took the milk.
Christopher could feel Gemma watching him as the girl ran over to her mother, squealing excitedly as she handed her the milk.
“What?” Christopher said, the word coming out a little rougher than he intended.
“Magic milk?” Gemma mouthed, a smile curving the corner of her mouth as she raised her eyebrows.
“I'm not completely clueless when it comes to children,” Christopher said. “I do have a niece and nephew you know.”
“And do they like magic milk too?” Gemma asked innocently.
“They can't get enough of the stuff,” Christopher scowled. She was making fun of him again. But it was worth it to see their smiles as the mother carefully filled the baby's bottle, before holding the carton to the children's lips; something as ordinary as shelf milk now something special.
And it had been barely twenty-four hours since the pulse hit, Christopher worried.
“That was a mighty fine thing to do.” The man held out his hand. “The name's Geoff.”
Christopher took the offered hand, feeling the strength of Geoff's sturdy grip. “Christopher.”
Geoff's face broke into a smile as he watched his grandchildren. “Magic milk, huh,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “magic milk indeed.”
“You just watch,” Christopher grinned ruefully. “Your granddaughter there's going to turn over a new leaf.”
“Now that would be something to see,” Geoff said. “She's a stubborn little thing.”
“I can relate to that,” Christopher sighed heavily, glancing over at Gemma.
Gemma looked up, giving him a quick smile before turning back to speak to Jimmy.
“Got your own hands full then, I take it,” Geoff chortled.
“You better believe it,” Christopher growled, and Geoff roared with laughter.
Geoff's mother had fallen asleep in the car. She was such a frail little thing, and Christopher doubted she'd be five foot even if she straightened the rounded hump of her back.
Gemma was leaning over the stroller, her dark hair falling over her face as she made goo-goo faces at the baby. She looked up when the mother spoke to her, one of her fingers caught in the tight, chubby grip of the baby.
Gemma smiled and nodded at the woman, then the woman said something to the children that made them turn tail and race toward Christopher.
“Thank you, Mister,” the girl shouted as she ran, her ponytail swinging as she looked over her shoulder to make sure she was beating her brother.
“Thanks,” Jimmy said, holding out his hand when he reached Christopher.
“That's a good handshake you've got there, Jimmy,” Christopher praised the boy.
It was time go – before he was tempted to give them everything he owned.
Christopher's heart sank when he saw Gemma holding the baby.
These were good folk, and he wished he could do more for them.
He turned to Geoff, meaning to wish him luck; if they made it to the exit, at least there was the promise of water – assuming the old woman could make it. The way only got steeper from here.
His eyes fell on the stroller. “Geoff – how much does your mother weigh?”
Geoff shrugged. “About eighty or ninety pounds I guess. Why's that?”
Christopher told Geoff his plan, the older man's eyes lighting up as he spoke.
Twenty minutes later Christopher and Gemma were pushing their bikes up the steep slope, feeling much better about themselves.
Gemma glanced back, giving him a wide smile, but Christopher hardly noticed. His eyes were on her rear end and the sway of her hips in the tight denim.
“Hey Mister, you never told me what sort of magic that milk does,” Sarah said, and Christopher looked down at the child on his bike seat.
“Actually – it does all sorts of magic,” Christopher stalled.
“Like what?”
“Well for a start it – uh – has protective powers.”
“It does?”
“Sure does. It will keep anyone who drinks it safe.”
“It will?” Sarah's eyes widened. “Even from nukes?”
“Even from nukes,” Gemma said knowingly as Jimmy made motorbike noises, tightly gripping the handles of her bike.
“Mommy,” Sarah hollered. “You haven't had any milk yet.”
“Yes I did, you just didn't see me,” Carroll said.
“You did?” the little girl sounded uncertain. “Well – what about nanny?”
“I had my milk, child.” Beverley craned her head out of the stroller to see her great-granddaughter.
“Granpop? You have some?”
“Yup,” Geoff said, removing a hand from the stroller to pat his stomach.
Carroll smiled gratefully at Christopher, baby Jessica's legs waggling happily from the holes of the basket on the walking frame.
He'd managed to bend and twist the metal with the tools in his bike kit, and Gemma padded it with her black sweater, using the arms to tightly secure the child.
The sides of the mountain started to close in on them, the road cutting through what had once been part of the mountain. Before long they were fully enclosed, the flat of the exposed tan and yellow-orange stippled rock-face rising high above them.
The air had cooled slightly, the sun no longer visible in the narrow strip of hazy blue sky, but they hardly noticed. They were too busy focusing on putting one step in front of the other, their shirts firmly plastered to their backs.
“Why are you breathing all funny?” Jimmy asked Gemma.
“Ca
use she's tired, stupi–” Sarah broke off as Christopher arched a brow at her. “They're just tired, Jimmy,” Sarah amended.
They heard the angry crowd long before they saw them, and as they came around the final bend to the exit, they faltered, casting worried glances at each other.
“Wow!” Sarah spoke what the rest of them were thinking. “Look at all those people.”
“That sure is a lot of people,” Jimmy said.
“I just said that.” Sarah rolled her eyes.
“That's enough, Sarah,” Carroll admonished with the tone of years of habit, her worried eyes never leaving the crowd.
“But Mom – I did–” Sarah's eyes darted uncertainly toward Christopher. “Sorry Mom. I'll be good. Honest.”
Peak Mountain itself was still a long way off, the exit blasted straight through the east side of the mountain well over a hundred years ago.
It had been years since Christopher had visited Peak Mountain, but he still remembered his first breathtaking glimpse of what lay on the other side.
The way the road sloped gently down, then like a flower opening, the walls of the mountain suddenly fell away, revealing the lush green valley below, and the large expanse of the lake in the distance that was framed by Peak Mountain.
Christopher quickly took in the situation facing them. The stretch of road in the corridor before them was flat, a few hundred yards in length. Hundreds of people were milling along it, most crowded around the narrow exit, their tone angry but restrained. Others were spread out, some in small groups, others leaning against the wall of the mountain staring sightlessly ahead.
A group of teenage boys had come together about forty yards away. Three of them sat on the roof of a black Mercedes. Another two sat on the hood.
They were trying to look all cool and tough and manly and unaffected, but it didn't seem that long ago that Christopher had been a teenager himself. Under their aloof manner he saw their fear and restlessness. But that didn't stop them preening and pea-cocking when a pretty blonde girl approached them with a hesitant smile.
Christopher worried that the restless crowd at the exit would become an angry mob at any moment, and to be honest, he wouldn't blame them. Some of them had been walking since the earliest hours of the morning, the thought of the crystal-clear waters of the lake driving them forward.