I Hope You Find Me

by Trish Marie Dawson

  He shifted back on his heels and I took in his whole frame for the first time. He wasn’t a huge guy, he had a slight but strong looking build and again I got the overwhelming feeling I knew him.

  “I’m fine. I…” I trailed off with a wave of my hand, not feeling comfortable trying to explain to a perfect stranger why I jumped into the Bay in the middle of January.

  Feeling self-conscious, I straightened my shoulders and said, “Thanks, for the help. I should probably get dressed now.” I was painfully aware that I was sitting in front of him, wrapped only in a towel.

  He smiled again, stood and took the few strides to the end of the dock and scooped up my pack and shopping bag. After he casually walked back to me and dropped them in my lap, he bent down and picked up the second wet towel and held it out in front of him.

  “I won’t look, I promise.” His voice had a hint of playfulness to it and he turned his face away from me as he talked, “What’s your name?”

  I slipped into a clean bra and underwear as quickly as I could. My voice was muffled as I pulled a blue cotton Henley shirt over my head, “Riley. What’s yours?”

  I sensed the slightest hesitation before he said carefully, “Connor. Nice to meet you Riley.” He laughed softly and I heard his accent thicken somewhat when he asked, “So, do you make a habit of jumping off docks in winter?”

  “Not really,” I let myself smile a little. “There’s a shortage of hot, running water, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  I pulled my new jeans up my legs, jumping up and down as the fabric stuck to my wet skin like spandex. Standing barefoot, I rummaged through the last bag and brought out a pair of converse shoes, socks and a large hoodie. When he heard me zipper up the sweatshirt he turned to face me again and lowered the towel.

  “It’s nice to see another living person.” He said quietly. “For a while I thought it was just me.”

  We stood there for a moment, looking at each other, until I remembered the man and woman on the shoreline earlier. “Wait, what about the older couple?”

  “Older couple?” Connor raised an eyebrow and looked at me quizzically. “Where?”

  “They were standing over there, watching us.” I pointed at where they had been, holding hands. “When you pulled me out, I saw them but I don’t know where they went.”

  Connor looked up and down the handful of docks, scanning the shore and turned back at me, shrugging his shoulders. “Why would they leave?”

  “I don’t know.” I sat down hard on the pier to put my socks and shoes on. Zoey seemed anxious to get away from the water but didn’t appear to be suffering from the cold anymore. Despite the dry clothes, I was still shivering. My muscles were trembling in painful waves, making my entire body ache. It felt like I would never feel warm again. I pulled my brush out from my pack and tried to work through the knotted ends of my wet hair before giving up and pulling it all back into a messy bun.

  “Well, we could look for them…if you want.” He said it almost like a question.

  “We?”

  I looked at him curiously as he shifted uncomfortably and ran a hand through his wavy hair, obviously trying to pick his next words carefully. His face showed a wide range of emotions, his gestures almost familiar.

  He shifted around a bit and then turned his body away from me. He stood with his hands shoved into his back pockets, and asked, “Are you leaving the City?” He nodded at my pack and added, “It seems like you’re carrying a lot in there for just a day trip.”

  I blinked, unable to answer him at first, “I came here to look for someone.” I paused long enough to wrap my arms around my waist, “And now I’m heading to the airport. I don’t know what I expect to find there though.”

  “The airport is full of the dead.” He said it with no emotion.

  “Oh.” I couldn’t think of anything better to say.

  I knew I still had to go there to at least leave a note, to keep my trail fresh for anyone looking for me, but I hadn’t thought of where I’d be going next. I knew in the back of my mind I had hoped to find other survivors. Now that I had, I didn’t know what to do. Now what?

  The week before the power went out; I had called one of my closest friends, who lived in Las Vegas. She was bed-ridden when I talked to her. She was lucid one minute and confused and vomiting the next. She hung up after saying she was going to call her father. He died seven years ago from cancer. When I called her back an hour later she didn’t answer. There was no one else left for me to look for, but the urge to keep looking was there. The desire to be found was stronger than ever.

  I blurted out, “Will you come with me? To the airport, I mean. There’s something I need to do there.” I didn’t want to be alone again, with all these dead people and nowhere to go, no one to find.

  His pale blue eyes seemed to pierce through me and I was certain he would say no. That small voice inside my head warned me not to trot off into the distance with a strange man, no matter how attractive and nice he seemed to be, but I refused to listen. It somehow seemed worse to be alone when I knew others were around, than if I was the only person left standing. Besides, the dog was comfortable around him, which at the time, was enough for me to trust him.

  “Okay.” I felt the muscles in my shoulders relax after he agreed.

  He turned, and started up the pier toward the land and for the first time I noticed a large backpack leaning up against a crate near the entrance of the dock. He slipped his arms through it as Zoey and I jogged to catch up with him. A sigh of relief escaped from my mouth.

  Walking side by side, we left the marina and crossed an empty parking lot to reach North Harbor Drive. We passed the USS Midway and the Maritime Museum, following the street as it curved to the west until the tarmac was in sight.

  An explosion that sounded like a sonic boom erupted from somewhere nearby, blowing the glass out of a nearby building and shaking the ground beneath our feet. I landed on my knees, holding tight to the dog’s collar. I pulled out Zoey’s leash and clicked it into place, not ready to chase after her again. Confused, the three of us huddled there for a moment, kneeling on the pavement. When Zoey barked it was muffled, I felt deaf but I could hear the tinker of glass falling to the ground. It reminded me of wind-chimes and for a second it sounded almost beautiful.

  Connor and I looked at each other wide-eyed, and then back at the sky above as it started filling with clouds of smoke. Did a plane explode? Neither of us spoke right away, there wasn’t much to say, especially if for the moment neither of us could hear well.

  After making it to our feet, Connor told me he had heard a similar explosion earlier in the day, and saw smoke in the sky. He was downtown to see if he could find the source of the fire. We stood together, staring into the distance where the airport stretched out before us. If the runway was on fire, we might have a chance of making it to a terminal, but only for a few moments. What I thought we might find there, I didn’t know. But I couldn’t turn back. I had nowhere left to go.

  ***

  The road leading up to the airport was a complicated web of chaos. A blood-orange glow pulsated from some distant and unseen part of the runway where a fire was burning fiercely. Dark rolls of smoke twisted and bellowed upward, obscuring the view of any structures behind it. Vehicles were everywhere; on more than one occasion we had to slide over roofs and trunks to make it through the entwined metallic mess. The military had attempted to block access to the airport terminals but it was obvious the public had forced their way in. As we carefully climbed around the collapsed military temporary fencing blocking the entrance, we saw more and more vehicles riddled with bullet holes. In the end, the military had turned on the civilians.

  A fine layer of ash had settled on mostly everything, leaving a trace of our footprints behind us and messy skid marks on whatever we climbed over. It smelled of fire and fuel and something organic. People. Connor gestured for me to cover my mouth with my shirt sleeve. I nodded that I understood and we clamored our way t
hrough the disaster until we reached the terminal’s first set of double doors but they were completely barricaded with suitcases and trolleys. We followed the glass wall as it angled on towards set after set of doors that we couldn’t squeeze through. My eyes were stinging, and my head hurt from the burnt and toxic air I was breathing. I was just about to give up when my hands reached a bent piece of window frame where the glass had been completely blown out. Connor pulled me inside behind him.

  There wasn’t much to see. The halls were dark where smoke had filled the upper half of the lobby and the air was rotten. I understood it would be pointless to wander around. It wouldn’t be hard at all to get lost in the hazy air.

  Connor stood before me, and gripped my shoulders. Dark rings were starting to form around his nostrils, his eyes were watery and bloodshot and his hair was dotted gray with ash. He held me firmly as he asked loudly, “Do you see? Do you see? There is nothing – no one, left here?”

  I nodded but still he did not let go of my shoulders so I uttered a weak, “Yes.”

  His hands finally dropped, and he pushed past me, back outside the broken window into what little fresh air was left. The smoke billowed greedily out after him, escaping the confines of the building. Zoey had stayed outside and was watching anxiously, sneezing every so often. The smoke was too much, we couldn’t stay anywhere nearby. Even if there were answers, we didn’t know what we were looking for or where to find it. Another massive explosion could level the whole place.

  This was a mistake. Why did he come with me, when he knew we would find nothing? I thought to myself.

  I turned to follow Connor when something brushed gently against my back. I stopped abruptly, my feet sliding along the bits and chunks of fallen glass but after looking over my shoulder, I saw no one. Staying absolutely still, all I could hear with my partially damaged eardrums was the sound of fire hungrily eating its way through the building toward me. My eyes were watering, and even though I had my arm across my mouth, every breath I took was heavy with soot.

  “Hello?” I called out between my fingers, but only the whistle of the oxygen being sucked out of the room answered.

  I ran outside, unsure if it was the fire or the lingering feel of a hand on my back that spooked me. I rushed past both the dog and Connor and stopped at a red pick-up truck to catch my breath.

  Connor came up beside me, heaving, and for a moment all we did was lean against the truck and watch as flames licked at the back of the building. A series of small explosions shook the ground, rattling the frame of the truck. Without discussing it, the three of us retreated to the barricade. Our tracks in the dust and ash were the only signs we had been there.

  ***

  We headed back the way we had come in silence, half walking, and half jogging. Other than our labored breathing and the fire raging on the runway, there wasn’t anything else to hear. My ears popped a few times and though my head hurt, it seemed my hearing wasn’t permanently damaged. I could hear the cracking of glass behind us, the collapsing of walls and the rushing of fire. It sounded like a distant waterfall.

  We went back toward the bay, leaving the airport behind us, but before we left the intersection I panicked. In our rush to leave the airport I hadn’t considered a place to put my next message. Exhausted, I sat down on a bus bench and scanned the street. By morning there wouldn’t be much of the airport left. With no one to put out the fire, it could burn down half of downtown, or worse.

  Another series of booms erupted somewhere out of sight and the fire cloud above the airport doubled instantly. The ground beneath us trembled and Zoey cowered behind my legs. The rational thing to do would be to go back to the bus depot and leave a note there. I had no idea what I would write but at least it would be proof that I was still alive, if anyone was looking for me. If anyone is left. I thought to myself.

  I closed my eyes and leaned into the bench, with Zoey slumped between my feet, panting heavily. Connor sat to my right, riffling through his bag. I heard him open a zippered compartment and the unexpected crunch of plastic made me jump. When I opened my eyes he was holding out a bottle of water and gestured to Zoey.

  “Wash her face off, and make her drink. Hopefully we didn’t inhale too much of that smoke.” He said. His voice was hoarse, thickening his accent.

  “Thanks.” I replied, my own voice just as strained.

  I watched him settled up against the bench, his hands gripped together behind his head. Without thinking I blurted out, “I know it might seem weird but I feel as if I’ve seen you before.”

  He leaned forward slowly, putting his arms onto his legs and lowered his head, running one hand aimlessly through his dark hair.

  “Guess I have one of those faces.” He mumbled, with a flick of his hand in the air, as if to dismiss the topic.

  So change the topic I did.

  “What do you think happened? At the airport, I mean?” I asked him, after Zoey had lapped up half the bottle of water from my cupped hand.

  I downed what was left in a few gulps, not realizing how hot and dry my throat really was till the cold water passed between my chapped lips. Connor finished his own water, before he rested his elbows onto his knees and put his hands to his head. From that position he looked almost juvenile, small and fragile. I immediately felt embarrassed by this thought. Based on the little amount of time I had spent with him, there didn’t seem to be anything weak about him. Despite his young looking frame, his face showed his maturity; not in an aged way, but in a wise way. I guessed he was in his early thirties, somewhere around my age.

  I flinched when he sighed loudly and sat up, rubbing the back of his neck and looking at me as he said, “I don’t know what happened. The fire wasn’t burning yesterday. Someone could have set it.” He said the last few words carefully, deliberately, as if he wanted me to consider them.

  I sat up straighter. “Why? Why would someone try and blow up an airport?” I asked him, a hint of incredulity in my voice.

  “Who the hell knows? But obviously we aren’t the only people out here.”

  “No, I guess not.” I went silent, and it dawned on me that being alone might not be as bad as finding more people alive. The idea that someone would deliberately set the airport ablaze made me nervous. Was someone trying to keep those of us left from leaving…or keeping someone else away? I remembered the voice on the street earlier that seemed to whisper in my ear, the old couple on the shore that disappeared before offering to help, the touch on my back that seemed to belong to an invisible hand. None of it made sense to me but it was obvious we were not alone, not completely.

  “Well, look,” I said, as I stood up and began brushing ash off my new clothes and out of my still damp hair, “We can’t stay here, not in the City anyway. It’s obviously not safe to be anywhere near the airport. It’ll get worse before it dies out. Maybe it will even catch these buildings on fire as well.”

  “I agree.” He said with a feigned grin on his face, “So, what’s your plan?” He shook the ash out of his hair and quickly dusted his arms and legs off. “You’re not thinking of taking another dip in the ocean, are you?” He grinned at me.

  My knees weakened slightly and I frowned, I didn’t like the fact that my body seemed unable to control itself around him. I planted my hands on my hips and glared into the distance. Less than an hour before I was clean. Sure, I was wet and freezing, but clean. And now here I was, covered in soot and ash and smelling of fire. Stinky again. I was more than a little irritated at the irony.

  “My plan?” I shrugged, “I don’t really have one, but we can start with the bus depot. I want to leave something there.”

  “Leave what?” He asked with a hint of suspicion.

  “A note.” I replied simply.

  “For who?” He turned in a semi-circle, his arms outstretched.

  When he faced me again, I wasn’t sure what to say. I was afraid to admit to myself that everyone I knew was gone, that no one would come looking for me. But I couldn’t just wa
lk away from my life like I no longer existed. Leaving the notes felt like I was tethering myself to my past, and I wasn’t ready to let go, not yet. Several times I found myself wanting to pull out the folded photo of the kids and trace the contours of their faces but I knew if I did that, I wouldn’t want to go on without them. I couldn’t let them down by quitting, not yet.

  At the intersection I decided to leave a note anyway. I wasn’t sure if the area would be safe if the fire moved off the runway and started down the streets, but it felt right to at least try and leave a message.

  “Hold on a minute.” I mumbled.

  Connor watched me open my pack and pull out the small notepad and large permanent marker. I used the hood of a car to write on before tearing the paper from the pad. I walked up to the largest military truck in the intersection and taped the note to the side. The white paper noticeably stood out against the camouflaged green paint. Good.

  1/9 4:00pm

  I found someone today, he found us actually. His name is Connor. The airport is on fire – no help there – so we are heading back to the depot. Tonight I’ll find a place to sleep before we make a plan to leave the City. I’ll leave a message again soon. I hope you find me. – Riley

  When I turned around to rejoin Connor I was startled to find him standing directly behind me. My forehead bumped into his chin and even though I blushed and stepped back, he didn’t move, but instead peered over my shoulder with interest and read my message aloud. After shoving his hands into his pockets he looked at me curiously.

  “You leave a note everywhere you go?”

  “No, not everywhere,” I replied, defensive. “If someone is out there, looking for me, it makes sense to tell them where I’m going. To let them know I’m okay.”