"Of course not! Are you nuts? I wouldn't leave this little muffin!" Then she mussed up Amy's hair, which lay next to her as the little girl fussed around with her dolls in the short grass.
"Thought so. Just asking, you know. Just making sure."
He wanted her in his life; that's what was different between now, and when they were simply clinging to life hour by hour together.
He still heard the music, tambourines, guitars, and singing. Night fell over the camp, which had become like a city on a sweltering summer night. The sun blazed in their eyes as the sun dropped into the ocean, then it was gone.
Hundreds of cooking fires, lanterns, and flashlights appeared on the hillsides, like a Civil War encampment.
"I guess we should pull our stuff together and move into that tent. There won't be any space left for us."
"Oh!" Amy said, obdurately.
"We gotta go kid. It's better to have a roof over our heads. Then we'll see what tomorrow has to offer. Maybe we can go, if we hear that this train is running. But we'll need some food, even though it's not that long a walk from here. Ack, let's leave it to the morning to decide."
He was still buzzed on the wine, relaxed and calm for what seemed the longest time since Rainier blew.
Mikaela squeezed her knees together, sneezed, and fell into a phlegmy coughing fit, her head down.
He handed her a water bottle. "I hope you're not catching what I had."
"It's just a cold. Maybe an allergy. It's been a while since I've been able to tell the difference between sick and well."
They got up and wandered over to the tent, Amy and Turk trailing behind.
"What are we doing?" Amy said. "Let's go to Disneyland tomorrow! I've never been to Disneyland!"
"Wrong direction," Cooper said. "We have to go north. Some other time though. Maybe we'll go to Disneyland, and the Grand Canyon. I've never been there."
They found the tent and lingered outside with a group of people who were waiting to go in. They set their things down, for the moment, to let the entrance clear.
They heard thunder, and a shelf of murky clouds drifted over the canopy of stars. They ducked under the roof of the tent's entranceway.
Cooper turned to Mikaela, getting something big off his chest. "What are we going to do, I mean you and me, when this is finally over? Are you going to go look for Muhammed?"
She looked away at the sky, now flashing with streaks of lightning.
"What are you going to do, Coop? Head back to Telluride, when the dust clears?" She rubbed her runny nose, as if she was crying. "Go look for your girl, what's her name, the really pretty one."
"Alexis."
"Right, Alexis." She went silent.
"I'm planning on not going anywhere, as in not splitting up. That's a definite no. Maybe we can go to Vancouver together?"
"You want to do that? With Amy of course." There was subtle hope in her voice.
"Hell yeah. I hear the coast is beautiful north of here. Haven't seen much of it."
"I always wanted to see the mountains in British Columbia," she added, a little dreamily.
They hadn't noticed Amy standing between them. "We're all staying together, forever? Aren't we?" she said in a high, eager voice, her head craned back.
"You bet."
"And Turk and Millie?"
"And Turk and Millie."
Then the rainstorm rolled in sheets into the camp. They hurried inside. The last thing the region needed was more water, Cooper thought. He watched the sudden runnels of run-off flow past the entrance, some of it stained yellow, as if by pollen, or volcanic ash, or both.
They staked out a 25-foot square segment of the tent interior off in a corner, and huddled together, including the dog. The rain and the wind pounded against the sides of the tent, which bulged like sails in the gusts. At least they had protection, and their bellies were full.
Cooper lay next to Mikaela, amidst an unsorted pile of their stuff. He said meaningfully, "I don't want to lose you, Mikaela."
She smiled and snuggled up closer to him, then leaned in and kissed him on the bearded cheek.
The rain pelted the billowing tent sides. She rested her head on his shoulder, and they waited out the storm.
CHAPTER 53
The next day, the rain ceased. They stood in a long line to take short lukewarm showers, with real soap and shampoo. Cooper stabbed at his black beard with an old disposable razor he found lying around, but it was fruitless. He was able to shave up his neck and down his cheekbones, but the rest was going to take scissors, a sharp razor, and lots of slicing and dicing. He longed for a haircut, which surprised him.
It was impossible to make himself handsome for Mikaela, he thought, gazing at bloodshot eyes and a matted mop of dark hair in a cracked mirror. The scabs stood out on his upper body and arms from the various ordeals, particularly his beating in captivity and the scrapes he incurred during the flood and climbing the bridge.
He finished the shower and opened the plastic door for the next guy. Mikaela was planning to take a shower with Amy, so they could both clean off.
The encampment was swampy and morose. Thousands of people milled about the area sullenly, trying to dry out blankets and clothes. A few altercations broke out in the distance, angry shouts carrying over the hills. The gaiety of the night before had vanished.
Hundreds of new arrivals from south of Tacoma and what was left of the Puyallup Valley stood in lines, including older people and grimy faced kids. Mikaela was right, Cooper conceded, the camp was busting its seams and it was time to make an attempt to move on.
Mikaela had volunteered to hand out food, water, and blankets, or anything, but they wouldn't take her. She came back angry at the rigid bureaucracy of FEMA and the Red Cross, and just said, with a bitter hint, "Let's get out of here."
They gathered their things and prepared to move down toward the Port Of Tacoma and the railroad tracks. A line ran north toward Seattle, and certainly into Canada from there. But its availability was all hopeful hearsay.
The passenger trains weren't running, because the lahars and the flooding had destroyed the infrastructure for generating power; sections of track were covered or wiped away by flood waters or giant mud flows. But rumors ran rife that some of the freight trains were moving and would take passengers. You could go to Seattle, where normal life resumed, where they could be bused away or reunited with loved ones.
Soon, they were back out on the sidewalks of Tacoma, on a hike that Cooper was confident would be a short one. Wandering down empty quasi-residential and commercial streets reminded him of that time in Orting when they ran into Bea. They had about a day's worth of food and water, two tarps to protect them from rain, and Cooper's backpack and bow. He had collected from a Red Cross lady more bandages, tape, aspirin, and ibuprofen for his medical kit.
But now both Amy and Mikaela were sick.
The flood had mostly receded from the city's streets, leaving a slimy residue and a gamey, river bottom smell. The roads were covered with broken glass, and the muddied carcasses of cars that had been carried away in the flood. Shop fronts had been smashed and looted. There was no organized martial law yet, at least in the neighborhoods they walked through now.
Cooper knew he'd be tempted to search the stores. He'd take the risk if they needed supplies.
At one point, he saw a local policeman, with an unbuttoned uniform, his gun belt flung over a shoulder, and striding quickly, as though he was just trying to escape Tacoma himself.
Cooper looked back at Mikaela, who walked behind him with the little girl and dog.
"You know what I'm going to do? When we get through this? I'm going to take you out to dinner. Just us. Candlelight. Maybe an Italian place, a nice one. A bottle of red wine, to start."
"Olive oil, and bread," Mikaela said.
"Exactly. Big goblets of wine."
"A caesar salad," she said.
"With anchovies. Some kind of fancy lasagna."
"Dip the bread in the las
agna sauce."
"Yeah, that's what I'm talking about! A cognac afterward…maybe an espresso."
"A slice of chocolate tort."
"That's right. We'll take hours to finish."
They were quiet afterwards. Mikaela withdrew into her cold. Amy was cranky. Cooper wasn't that surprised; he'd been really sick the week before. And now they'd been exposed to thousands of catastrophe survivors from all corners of the stricken region.
"Amy, how do you feel?"
"Tom, how do you feel?" she answered mockingly. "Do you have a headache? Stomach pain?" She waited a moment, then, answering for Tom:
"Starved, yes. Stomachache, no. Tired, yes. Cold, no. Itchy nose, yes."
"Okay, so now that I know Tom's status," he said, looking at Mikaela. "What about you?"
"Just a cold, that's all. I just need a decent sleep."
"We shouldn't be long to the depot. Let me know if you need an aspirin."
"I may take you up on that soon. And an espresso."
He laughed.
They crossed a mixed residential and industrial section of town not far from Commencement Bay. They just had to cross a bridge over the Puyallup River, then it would be about another mile to the old Amtrak Station.
This was a part of a city that Cooper would otherwise never find himself in, industrial, polluted, and likely crime-ridden at night. In the best of circumstances. He wanted the group to move faster, but he couldn't push sick people.
He realized the downside of their decision to leave; that now they were passing through a no man's land.
CHAPTER 54
They were alone. The streets were quiet, windy. Cooper could smell oil and sewage. He could see the cluster of gray steel oil terminals against the sky, before grimy city streets ended and the Bay began.
They hadn't reached the bridge over the Puyallup yet. Amy had been complaining, so they'd stopped and given her one-half an ibuprofen. Mikaela took two whole ones. They washed it down with the last of their water. Cooper didn't like where they were now, wandering through these dead, empty city neighborhoods. He heard random, purposeless shouts in the distance.
He armed his crossbow. He heard a transistor radio playing, as if from an open window. That meant the possibility of a generator or electricity. Or perhaps, only dying batteries.
Someone read the news on the radio, then the song "Groovin'" came on. It was the only sound, other than worn shoes on wet sidewalk.
The streets were lit by a pale sun; nighttime was still several hours off. He relaxed a bit, disarmed and strung the crossbow across his shoulders, and picked Amy up. She acted like she couldn't walk anymore. He was now lugging about 60 pounds.
"It won't be long," he whispered into her ear. Her eyes were closed. Their trudge pace slowed.
After 10 minutes, he stopped at a street corner and set Amy down on some short-cut grass. He pointed to a CVS pharmacy across the street.
Mikaela nodded wanly. She looked pale and sweaty. She sat down on the grass near where Amy lay. Turk wandered over and sat next to Cooper, who scratched behind his ear.
"Want another pill?"
"No thanks, I just want to rest. And get to where we're going."
"Okay, so I'm going to look for water and food in that pharmacy. Turk, you come with me, boy." Both of them went across the street.
The storefront was smashed; glass was everywhere. A BACK TO SCHOOL SALE! sign with boot prints on it lay in the debris. Cooper picked up the dog and escorted him across the shards. Then they both began exploring the ransacked store. "Stay by me, Turk," he called out. He stole a glance out the broken front window and could see the two prone figures of his friends. He'd left the crossbow with the lady, just to be sure.
No one else was around. They headed straight for the refrigerators arrayed along the sides of the store. In the aisles, candy wrappers, chips, and cereal boxes littered the floor. Turk licked at the stale salty crumbs on the floor, which Cooper didn't mind. He didn't see any poison there, and the poor animal was starving, again.
No power meant that all the milk in the glass cases was sour, and the cheese moldy. But he found several small plastic water bottles, which he stuffed into his backpack.
On the far end of the store, a $5 OFF ANY CASE OF 60 OU. PEPSI! sign sat in a heap of empty bottles and trash, but he found one full liter of the soda. He seized that as well, packing it away with other findings: a partially melted Hershey bar, an Orbit package of chewing gum, two cans of dog food, Planter's cashews, and a nearly full box of stale Ritz Crackers.
The only thing of use he found in a flooded freezer was a shrinkwrap sausage that didn't smell yet. He saved it all. Turk clipped alongside him or nosed around some shelves; at one point he lifted his leg on one. Now I'm really going to get in trouble, Cooper thought. This would be the perfect time for troops or patrolmen to come in here, with this dog soiling the looted store. Loot to survive, he thought, feeling neither high-minded nor particularly competent at getting them to another safe place.
"Sit. Can you sit for one second, Turk?" he said, mildly irritated. The dog obliged, and Shane dashed behind the pharmacy desk for more medicinal loot. The place was ransacked like everything else, and between that and the indecipherable labels, he came away only with one small Motrin bottle and another bottle that contained a run of Amoxicillin antibiotics.
On another shelf, however, he found a battery operated thermometer that still worked. He tore it out of its package.
They went back outside the store. The odd faint music still played on the wind. He gazed up and down the street, sensitive for the presence of authorities whose acceptance of his explanation would be highly unlikely. A group of sickly looking strangers wandered vacant-eyed down the road. They looked over, but none of them spoke up.
Cooper and Turk, who forged ahead obediently, rejoined the others across the street. He found Amy asleep and Mikaela quietly sitting with her head in her hands.
"Take this and squeeze it in your armpit." He handed Mikaela the thermometer, and she quietly did what he asked. Pale and even skinnier looking, she wasn't acting herself, at all.
After a short wait, the little device beeped over and over again. She took it out from her arm and handed it to him.
"102.9…and you're supposed to add one coming from the armpit…so you're running a 103.9."
She lay back on the grass and clasped her arms on her stomach. "So that's why I feel like total shit."
"Maybe we should go back to the Red Cross tent."
"All that way? I don't think so."
A man and woman wandered past on the road, like the others, sunken-eyed and shuffling along like zombies. They were clearly from the camp, but the worse for wear from it. They stopped momentarily, and the man mumbled, "You know where there's a clinic open?"
"You might try that CVS store. Over there. It's closed right now, but no one's around. They might have some pills left over. What are your symptoms?"
"Puking, diarrhea, fever…"
"Nasty. I'd check out the pharmacy, then go back to camp."
He kneeled over Amy and felt her forehead; burning up too. He had to wake her, give her an ibuprofen, he thought to himself.
The people shuffled on pathetically; he watched them pause in front of the CVS, the man go in.
We didn't drink any of the free-flowing water in the camp, he thought. But we took those showers. That might have been contaminated.
He scanned the nondescript rooftops with their clutter of satellite dishes, and the metallic industrial horizon to the west, but saw no sign of any moving trains.
"We might have to go back to the camp, too." I'm crying uncle on this journey to a possibly non-existent train north.
Then Mikaela stood up unsteadily from the grass and summarily declared, "I'm going to be sick." She headed for some spare bushes across the brown grass, but barfed halfway there, hands on her knees. It was wrenching, but not much came up.
"Jesus!" she cried, coughing, half-mad at her body f
or failing her so.
Cooper came over and put his hand on her back, softly stroking it. She gagged some more, then looked up at him ruefully.
"We're going to have to squat somewhere local." Turk sat a short distance away, curious and concerned.
Mikaela stood up straight. "I may have puked it out of myself. Do you know what I mean?" She spat a few more times.
"Yeah, I hope so."
Then she began to walk and abruptly fainted with a thud as she hit the hard ground beneath the short grass.
CHAPTER 55
Cooper knelt next to her. He let her lie until she was ready to get up. Turk ambled over and sniffed her gently. He made a pillow of a few extra clothes and she came to.
"My head?"
"You've got a black eye? Do you have a headache?"
"No."
"You fainted."
"Shit."
"It happens when you have a fever sometimes. Just stay put for now. I've got some water and Pepsi for you. Amy's asleep still, but we've got to move into a room soon."
The radio music had commenced. It sounded like an apartment a block away from CVS, same side of the street. Stevie Wonder.
"I used to run and ride a lot, and the heavy training really slowed my heart beat," he said, pulling the liquids out of his backpack and keeping her mind occupied. "So when I got a flu, a fever, the blood would go to my stomach and I'd faint. One time I hit the floor in the kitchen. It's the strangest sensation."
She got up on one elbow and sipped tentatively on a water bottle. "There can't be anything left in my stomach…"
"You still feel really hot. In a while we'll figure out how much you can move."
Stragglers wandered past, but most looked sick and no help to anyone. Cooper knew he couldn't carry her and deal with Amy.
"You might have thrown up the medicine. I can give you more. First things first. Fill up your water bottle with part of this." He handed her the Pepsi liter.
Then he did the same thing; guzzled back some of a bottled water and filled the remainder with Pepsi. He drank it down and it gave him a temporary boost.
He noticed Amy stirring; he handed the same liquid recipe to her. She sat cross-legged in the grass. He opened his kit and gave her an ibuprofen, a whole one this time.
Devastated Lands: A Post-Apocalyptic Adventure Page 17