"It becomes a super hot river, several meters thick. Basically, a river of cement; all this stuff congealed together and knocking all the buildings and high-wires down, covering the roads. Well, you can see what it's done."
He glanced at his rear-view mirror; no one following them, along the path of destruction. Flakes of volcanic ash floated like dirty snow. The sky was leaden gray. He knew they were still too close to the base of Mount Rainier to see its summit. He also knew the mountain was still pluming ash and debris, building a cloud that was visible from space.
Where the lahar passed through, the neighborhoods were obliterated; others still stood, with the odd randomness and selectivity of a tornado or wildfire. He passed a few men, shuffling forlornly through still-intact yards and half-destroyed homes, wearing rags and casting dark-eyed, apathetic stares. This was a land where help was not coming. Cooper realized that. He kept driving with care along the pot-holed, debris-littered road. The gas for the Jeep wasn't going to last forever.
"I'm hungry," the girl announced.
"Well, at any moment, we'll be able to dip into a Wendy's, Jack In The Box, KFC, you name it."
"I like Chipotle," she said.
He looked at her with a half smile. "Expensive tastes, huh?"
"You bet. Nothin' but the best."
One of the best things about his remote property in Telluride was that he didn't have to look at any of those strip-mall franchises; he was too far into the wilderness. Now most of them in the Seattle area were in ruins. Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing, he ruminated, feeling subversive and light-headed. Maybe they can all just start clean.
Don't think about fast food, he thought, it's only going to make his stomach feel emptier. The last things he had to eat were crap about a day ago; limp beef jerky and stale pretzels he'd found in a lousy dumpster. Dumpster diving.
"What was the name of your town?"
"I don't remember," she murmured, her head averted toward an untouched stretch of woods sporting fall colors.
"Well, would you recognize your neighborhood?"
"Of course I would!" she erupted. "Do I look blind?"
"Tell me when you see it, will you? I can't read your mind!" I'm going to have to get out the map and read through some towns with her, he thought. This was turning into a wild-goose chase already, which in these parts can be fatal.
He imagined himself back at his cabin in Telluride, fire blazing, Palmyra Peak in the window under starlight. It wasn't utopia–there are no utopias–he said to himself; but it's a good home. It's still there, he knew it. He held out hope for a return.
He'd still had to keep his bow and rifle handy there, however. That wasn't only because of bears and mountain lions. Even the Colorado countryside, like his childhood state Vermont, had a dark side; the drug addled and the drug dealing, along with the just plain unstable and ornery.
It took earthquakes, eruptions, and the ensuing economic and political chaos, from California to Seattle, to breach the hornet's nest. Now they're left with this.
He had far less than a full tank of gas. It was becoming less certain they'd make the west coastline, or at least as far as Orting or Puyallup, in the scavenged Jeep. He switched the headlights on; the girl had fallen asleep, fell over like a rock. It gave him time to think. He'd look for one of those rural homes, abandoned with perhaps a few left-over canned goods and a weedy garden with still edible veggies. Anything right now would do.
Fear settled over him with the darkness; a pitch black invaded the broken sprawl, then the countryside. He'd seen a sign for Carbonado. The Carbon River was probably contaminated by ash and the lahar. He cut his speed to get better mileage on the empty, unlit road, when he saw a carcass, a road kill, off to the side. He pulled over, out of sight and off the emergency lane.
He parked the Jeep in the rough grass and dirt, then he removed the flashlight and his knife from the rucksack. He'd draped a coat over the girl, who was deep asleep.
"Want to come with?" he said to Turk, who climbed out of the backseat and carefully hopped down to the ground. He walked beside Cooper to the roadkill and sniffed it, strenuously, up and down. He licked it a few times. The carcass turned out to be a buck deer, its eyes pried open and mouth sadly spilling blood. Not too much time had passed since it was hit.
He figured it was still edible, if hard work to butcher. "I guess it's our lucky day, eh Turk?" The dog looked up at him, an intelligent animal, he thought. He suddenly realized, out of range of the distracting girl, that he really liked having the dog there.
They still had to find a place to slaughter the buck and cook the meat over a fire. He had matches, but the choices of safe spots were limited. He'd make a fire in a clearing about 30 meters into the woods. Turk would warn him of any intruders; you could see vehicles coming from miles away.
CHAPTER 4
He and the dog sat by the fire as embers climbed into the night sky. The shadows leapt in the trees, only the crackle and lick of flames breaking the silence. He'd used the branches of a dead birch tree for fuel. Two hind quarters from the carcass sizzled in the flames, the fat on them bubbling and spitting. He'd carried the girl, who was still sound asleep, coat and all, and set her down by the fire.
It had all taken too long, making the fire and sawing off the dead animal's portions. He'd even dug into the viscera, just beginning to smell, for the liver, and cooked that. Food-wise, he wasn't going to take anything for granted.
He consigned himself to staying there for the night. It was quiet, the Jeep parked in the darkness and making metallic pinging sounds.
He noticed the dog drooling. He would sniff at the meat in the fire, then back off from the heat and flame.
"Okay, Okay," Cooper said, fetching his improvised fire tool or spatula, which was a crow-bar he'd found in the Jeep. He speared the game meat and moved it carefully onto a couple of rocks he'd laid in a leafy clearing. He sliced off portions for himself, then gave the leg to Turk, who pawed at the hot meat and fat, then settled down and began gnawing on the meat-covered bone, holding it between two paws.
Cooper let the meat cool for a minute, then silently chewed on a delicious piece of cooked fat. That was where the calories were, he idly thought, looking after himself. He put one of the pieces down on a rock and cut it into bite-sized ones, just as the girl began to stir. She woke up and, startled in the fiery darkness, began to whimper.
"Sh-sh. I've got some food for you. It's a campfire. You're okay…"
She came over and huddled up against him.
"Where are we?"
"The woods. Just off the road, for tonight."
"This is scary."
"We're safe. Turk is right there. Turk likes it here. Don't you boy?" The dog looked up from his food, licked his chops, then pooch-smiled around a pant.
"See? Turk is happy. Dinner is delicious, right Turk? Take some." He handed her a piece he'd cut up. She looked at it skeptically, as if it had to be unsavory.
"Where'd you get this?"
"That five-star restaurant we passed on the road."
"My mom used to make me lasagna. It was my favorite." A piece of burned wood toppled over and sent up a clod of embers.
"You mean Millie?"
She didn't say anything for a moment. "Okay, I'll eat it," she said resignedly. He thought maybe he'd move them into the Jeep, when the fire died down.
He let the dog work on the second cooked hind leg, after he'd cut some more meat and fat off of it. Turk nosed and licked it, then settled down on his tummy and gnawed on the gristly, red-stained bone with the side of his jaws. Cooper had also settled the liver into the fire. It was black on the outside, and red like rare beef within. He sliced it into small pieces, but she scowled at the liver, while chewing on the piece of dark meat he'd coaxed her to eat.
The hind leg made Cooper think of a roast; he thought of Alexis's cooking, the willowy brunette girl who happened to love meat. She had mostly vegetarian friends. She cooked stews and roasts in his cabin
and they drank red wine together. That was a few months ago. Alexis was a teacher and a waitress in nearby Ouray, Colorado. The affair was over with for now; he'd really fucked up that relationship. He'd screwed it up in a way that made him think he was going to be a loner forever.
The guy who snow-plowed his road had called her "a catch and a real primo gal–a keeper," and maybe some less choice words when Cooper wasn't around. Before they'd met in an Ouray breakfast place and she started coming over, she was the only thing his Telluride cabin, life itself, was missing; but he didn't know that until he figured he'd lost her.
He fooled around with a stick in the fire, staring into it quietly. He needed some sleep. What if Rainier blew again big time, during the night…? Right now, its crater sizzled and smoked like a huge version of his campfire. He'd always keep the keys handy; ready to go.
Something about Alexis' growing devotion to him, had disrupted the predictable rhythms of his cowboy-loner life, and in that way set himself against her. Against them being together. Stupid! he thought. You idiot! She was gorgeous, and kind to him, if a little inscrutable and moody. The first thing he was going to do when he got back to Colorado was look for her.
He was proud, for now, of his food-gathering efforts. Their survival. He ate chunks of the liver, and it made him full and weary. The woods had a piney, cooked-fat odor as the fire began to die down. Everyone seemed comfortable by the glowing coals; he wouldn't rouse them until sunrise. A better plan.
A gratifying sense of order and safety settled over him, the first since Rainier exploded and the lahars went on their rampage. But he knew it was a fragile mood and sensation; disorder would rein once more when the sun came up. Turk lay down by the fire's flickering light, where the girl's eyes shone as she looked out into the night.
"Tell me a story."
"About what?"
"My mom always told me a story before I went to sleep."
Her mom again…Cooper thought.
"What about the one about the rabbit in the garden?"
"That will do," she said, from under the coat, after a pause.
He told her a cute story, as cute as he could make it anyhow, about a rabbit that Alexis had been feeding in his garden.
"What else? Is that all?" she said, when it had reached its brief conclusion.
"You mean there has to be more?"
"That was a short story. Too short!"
"But it was a true one, and the rabbit, and the lady, they're still there." Thinking about Alexis, he pictured her beautiful face, glittering green eyes and the way she tossed her long black hair to the side of her shoulders with a fey smile. The vision made him warm, he wanted to go to sleep.
"My dad used to have me recite the Lord's Prayer when I went to bed," he said. "Why don't we do that? Do you know the Lord's Prayer?"
"Of course I don't…know the Lord's Prayer," she said huffily, as her voice trailed off.
He lay down on his back and looked up at the stars. "Repeat after me; Our Father who art in heaven…"
She hesitated, then repeated the poem after him. He remembered most of it, surprising himself, but forgot the middle parts, which he skipped over, finishing with "deliver us from evil…"
By then she'd fallen asleep.
CHAPTER 5
He heard a chorus of crickets, then a distant commotion. The dog roused himself, claws clattering on stiff dirt, then he half barked with a puffing out of his cheeks. The sun crested the trees, white smoke wisped away from the burned logs. The girl was gone; the coat remained.
"Where's the girl?" the comment aimed at Turk, who stood frozen with his nose in the air.
"Ruff, where are you?" he said in a loud hoarse whisper, pulling a sweatshirt back on over his head. He scrambled foggily to his feet. He walked onto the rough path they'd taken through the trees to the Jeep, when he heard voices again.
"I don't know," he heard the girl say testily. Then a man's deep voice, the words not made out, but unfriendly, authoritarian. He returned quickly and fetched his bow. "Sh-sh," he said to the dog. "Stay behind me."
He saw a policeman's blue lights blinking harshly through the bush. When he closed on it, he saw the white and black vehicle parked at an angle with the passenger door open. Two policemen stood looking over the girl, both with sidearms.
Both of them had half beards, were hatless, and wore slept-in, creased uniforms. Cooper thought there was definitely something fishy.
"Where's your dad? Nearby here?" one of them said. "We just have to talk to your dad, now tell me sweetheart…"
"He's not my dad…and he doesn't want to talk to you anyways!"
"We're not getting anywhere with this one," said the man's partner. "I'm puttin' her in the back. Why don't you look around some more."
Then he grabbed her arm, and she screamed and said "Let go of me!"
"Shut up you little brat!"
"You better do as she says," Cooper said, stepping out of the bush, aiming the crossbow at the uniformed man who gripped her arm. He seemed unsurprised by Cooper.
"So here's daddy huh? We're both officers, so you can lower that weapon."
"Something doesn't smell right. Unbuckle your handgun and drop it on the ground."
"What?"
"Drop the gun on the ground."
"You know you'll go to prison for this, or worse," said the other "officer," tensed and to the side. "You only have one arrow loaded."
"At this distance, the arrow will pass completely through your body. You, drop the gun and kick it over to me. You too." The girl walked over and stood next to Turk with her arm draped over him.
"Do it!" she yelled.
"Hush quiet," Cooper said. Then he took a step forward and aimed the arrow at the head of the man who stood nearest the cruiser. "I'll pin your head to the hood of that car if you don't drop the gun belt, pronto!"
The man unbuckled the belt, dropped it, then used his black boot to nudge it slowly toward Cooper. "Ruff, go pick up the gun and bring it to me."
"Yes sir!" she said, with a willing-to-help chirpiness.
"We're officers you know," the first man repeated, unconvincingly. He fiddled with his gun belt, let it drop to the ground. "We've got backups coming."
"Maybe you once were, and did…" Cooper said.
"I found my brother back there," the man said. "Dead, somebody killed him, looked like with a projectile, a bow."
You mean the low-life back there? Cooper thought. You share his genes? The girl brought one gun to Cooper, then the other.
"That's murder," the man said. "When we find the criminal that did it, there's going to be justice served."
"What's your jurisdiction?" Cooper said. "Or once was, before you went rogue."
"Orting," the second officer said.
The girl carefully backed off behind Cooper. He was wary the second guy still might want to make a move on him.
"I want you both on your stomachs now."
"Fuck you," the man closest to him said. Cooper backed off about 20 feet, which the first guy could still cover fast, if he was going to be rushed.
Then the man added, "You don't even know if those revolvers are loaded; you wouldn't know how to take the safety off. And you're down to one arrow…"
"Actually I'll have to rearm," Cooper said, and fired an arrow that plunged into the man's right leg just above the knee. He screamed and his wound blossomed dark red; he collapsed into the dirt, holding his leg on the gravel beside the black-and-white, and howling at Cooper.
"You're going to regret that," his partner said, with a menacing stare. Cooper and the girl had backed off another 20 feet, removing the man's advantage as he reloaded the bow.
"Now down on your stomach," Cooper said. "Or I might do your left leg. I might miss and hit somewhere more sensitive." The man went down on his stomach, and Cooper went around to the driver's side of the police sedan. He checked the gas tank; it was three-quarters full. He told the girl to go with the dog back in the woods, where they slept.
Then he told the rogue cop to grab his wounded friend, who lay moaning, with only the back of the arrow protruding from a nasty, bloody hole in his thigh. "Get in the Jeep. Close the door."
He picked up a leather holster at his feet and removed the handgun, which was a Beretta nine millimeter. He switched the safety off. The sky was still gray, the road empty; he felt hollow. "In the Jeep, go on." The man opened the passenger door and dragged his wounded friend in, the feet banging over the metal transom and the man howling in pain, then he slammed the door behind them.
"Lock it," Cooper said. He heard the synchronized clicks.
"What are you going to do? Don't get tricky with that weapon. The rest of the force knows where we are. That's our squad car. You're gonna get shot, or put away for life."
Glancing at the woods first, Cooper quipped, "I like your vehicle better." He then shot all four of the Jeep's tires out with the Beretta. "The gas tank's fuller, for one."
Then he called out for Turk and the girl. After a minute they emerged from the woods. He urged Turk to jump into the backseat of the squad car, he and the girl took the front. He switched off the rotating blue lights, and they accelerated out of the loose gravel and onto the highway.
CHAPTER 6
"Phew, that was close!" the girl said excitedly, as if they'd just disembarked from a wild roller coaster.
He had two service revolvers now, he reasoned, and that was a good thing. The guns lay on the floor beneath the girl. They were also driving at top speed in a stolen squad car, and that probably wasn't a good thing.
"Wilkeson…Burnett?" He named the towns they passed. "Anything ring a bell?"
She shook her head.
"Did your parents live in Orting…Tacoma?"
"No."
Turk started to shift his feet around in the backseat, then he barked once at the wooded suburbs going by; they looked like they had been carpet bombed.
"I think both me and Turk have to make a visit to the woods. What about you?"
Devastated Lands: A Post-Apocalyptic Adventure Page 2