Dead Weight
Page 19
“No, she’s sleeping. And she kissed you good-bye last night while you were knocked out,” Zephyr told her.
“I know, but I want—”
“It’s too hard for her, Jord. She told us last night that she didn’t want to see us this morning.” He nudged her toward the front door. “Come on, let’s hit the road, kid. We have a long trip ahead of us.”
Based on what he could ascertain from the map they carried, the drive to Santa Monica seemed easy enough. It was, after all, just a straight shot on Interstate 10 going west until they hit the coast. However, it was also an eight-hundred-mile trek on a highway still littered in forgotten vehicles, not to mention whatever else might lay in wait.
Usually, they could hug the left lane and bypass the big trucks, but leftover cars or even the odd 18-wheeler sometimes bled into their passage and they were forced to slow, switch lanes, or in some rare instances, veer into the shoulder to pass by. Their car never moved more than thirty miles per hour. And headway took another punch to the gut around lunchtime, when the dark clouds above made good on their threats and released a thick, steady downpour upon them.
“Are we there yet?” Jordan asked.
“Not even funny,” Aurora said and turned to Zephyr, who continued to grip the steering wheel as a drowning man might a life preserver. And drowning they were: the windshield struggling to remove massive gobs of water. “This is ridiculous,” she added.
“Yep,” Zephyr agreed. “But look on the bright side. Only six-hundred or so miles to go. Speaking of, is it your turn to drive?”
They drove on for hours, the obstacles and rain never abating, as the clouds grew darker and the car’s glass colder to the touch. Beautiful red rock formations surrounded the highway. Cacti, Joshua trees and wastelands stretched everywhere. Eventually, they passed out of New Mexico and into Arizona, which Zephyr considered a major accomplishment. A few hours later, the clouds could no longer be seen through the fog of night, and the boy nodded in and out of consciousness as the rain created monotonous music against their windshield and Aurora tended to the wheel.
After a while, she nudged him. “Hey, you awake?”
The words snapped him from some thin, hazy dream before he leaned forward and rubbed his eyes.
“Yeah. Am now.” He turned around and Jordan was asleep in the backseat with a bag of chips on her lap.
“Sorry. I’m getting pretty tired and I can’t see shit out here anyway. We should think about stopping for the night. Either find a place to sleep or just park somewhere.”
“Yeah,” he said and stared into the water-soaked darkness beyond the comfort of the car. “Any idea where we are?”
“Somewhere in Arizona, dude. That’s all I’ve got.”
“Awesome. Don’t you read the signs we pass?”
“I’ve been pretty focused on not getting us killed for the last hour. Not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’re in the middle of some kind of biblical storm.”
“OK, touché,” he said as he dug into a bag at his feet, pulled out a double-sized candy bar and bit into it. “So, I can drive for a bit and then we can look for a place to hole up. I think that sounds better than trying to sleep in the car. You cool with that?”
“Yup.”
She rolled the Flex to a stop in the middle of lane and then flipped the hazards on. Zephyr was going to make a joke about how unnecessary that was, thought better of it and reached for the door handle, but by this time she had already unfastened her seatbelt, scooted over to his side of the car and straddled him. Her face was inches from his, her hair brushing against him.
“OK,” she whispered. “Switch?”
“Yeah.” He started to rise and his seatbelt pulled him back again.
“Here—let me help.” She leaned into him, slid her arm across his leg and then pushed the buckle. The belt unfastened without interruption. He could smell her now, feel the warmth and weight of her, hear her breathing, and the world outside seemed inconsequential.
“Thanks.” He didn’t move—wasn’t sure that he could.
“You know,” she whispered. “You’re pretty cute when you sleep. You have the tiniest, little snore.”
“I don’t snore,” he said and knew his cheeks were already bright red.
“No, it’s so little. I like it.”
He didn’t know how to respond and his mind considered a hundred options in a blink. He wanted to lock his arms around her and press her lips against his. Felt, in fact, like he might implode unless he did that very thing. But he was also terrified that she was toying with him, or that he was somehow misinterpreting everything she did and said, and these possibilities froze him in place.
“Well, thanks,” he finally mustered. “I think.” It was supposed to be funny, but it came out all wrong—arrogant almost, and he regretted the words as soon as he released them.
“All right, Zephyr,” she sighed and started to rise again.
“What?”
“You know what. Take your seat then.”
“Seriously, what did I do?” he asked.
“Nothing. That’s the problem. That’s always the problem.”
“No, I want to talk about this. I wasn’t trying to be rude. I’m sorry if it came out that way.”
“Just…” she said. “Drive.”
So he did.
Shortly thereafter, as Aurora slept in the passenger seat and Zephyr quietly cursed her for sending his mind and body into overdrive, he saw a sign for Tucson. He’d passed through the city before and knew it well enough. It was a metropolis with a massive population and it stretched for miles. Thankfully, the storm had finally dissipated and the moon cast soft light on the cityscape. A congress of tall and short buildings stood erect in the distance, but they were gray silhouettes on black, barely discernible in the night.
He found an off-ramp and exited, slowed to dodge a parked sedan and then stopped to observe a stoplight that no longer offered any instruction.
“Where are we?” Jordan asked from the backseat.
“Tucson. In Arizona,” he said. “It’s a big city. I’m going to stop at the nearest place and we’ll figure out a way to get a couple rooms so we can rest through the night.”
The next morning, the rain returned with a vengeance— somehow heavier, louder, fiercer, and more determined to disrupt them. Amazingly, the water in the bathroom ran hot, and Aurora insisted upon a long, steamy shower before they left the motel behind. Zephyr explained that it was a pointless undertaking because they would undoubtedly be soaked and cold by the time they made it back to the car, anyway.
“I don’t care—it’s worth it,” she countered. “It’s been months since I’ve had a hot shower or bath. Months. Let me just say it one more time for emphasis. Months. You’re getting this, right? There’s no way I’m passing this opportunity up, so you two better get comfortable because I intend to enjoy this.” And with that, she closed the bathroom door.
They both spoke true. By the time they pulled the doors closed on the Flex again, almost an hour had passed and yes, they were wet and chilled. Aurora didn’t seem to mind. She fastened her seatbelt, her thick, moist hair pulled back in a ponytail, and beamed at him.
“So totally worth it, dude. Thanks for humoring me.”
“Anything for you,” he returned, and shook his head as he started the car and blasted the heater.
She cycled through stations on the satellite radio and when nothing played, she turned it off. “I love it when it storms like this. Reminds me of home.”
“Me too,” Zephyr said and turned to her. “When I don’t have to drive in it, that is.”
“Boo-hoo. We can take turns, like we did yesterday.”
The three of them talked about whether or not to explore Tucson proper and decided against it. Their tank was nearly full again, they had ample food, supplies and weapons, and although they were curious to experience a metropolis in the aftermath of the disappearances, there were no genuine advantages to doing so. When Zep
hyr said it might be dangerous, he was relieved to see the girls nod in agreement. So they turned the car back onto the freeway and drove west as the city faded from view.
Jordan watched some movie on the tablet, oversized headphones dwarfing her head, and he and Aurora rode along in silence. After a while, she said, “Here’s a question that I think I know the answer to, but I’ll ask anyway. You consider yourself a half-empty or half-full guy?”
Zephyr frowned at her. “Do you even need to ask?”
“No, I guess not.”
“You think that’s a bad thing?”
“To be such a pessimist? Yeah.”
“Better safe than sorry, my dad used to say. Those words are truer now than ever,” Zephyr said. “I suppose you’re half-full all the way, right?”
She shrugged. “Yeah. Sure, you could look at everything and ask, why me? Or, you could be thankful that you’re still here. We basically own this entire world now. We can do anything we want.”
That’s what the slavers said, he thought. “That’s sort of true, but everything around us is transforming. All the things we count on are depleting. Food, water, electricity, gas—you name it. We can’t take any of it for granted any more. What’s it gonna be like a year from now? What about five years? I don’t know the answer, but very, very different is a certainty. Not for the better, either. New York, Chicago, San Francisco—in ten years, they might be ruins populated by wildlife, not people.”
If his words had any impact on her, she didn’t show it. “I think you’re being a little dramatic,” she finally said. “Think about how many people are left. Could it even be millions? I’m not so sure. I bet we’re talking about thousands. But just for argument’s sake, let’s say a million people are still trolling around America. Compare that to a population of— a couple hundred million?”
“Three-hundred million.”
“Yeah. Three-hundred million before everything went crazy. We’re microscopic now. I think we’ll have enough food and water to last us a lifetime, even if we’re eating canned beans and corn into our sixties. And cities in ruins in ten years? No way, dude. We’ll be dead by the time that kind of scenario plays out. Maybe our kids’ kids will see that kind of world.”
“Wait—this could be a deal-breaker. I never said I wanted kids.”
“Shut up, jackass,” she said and punched his arm. “You know what I meant.”
“The twins—they died before we met—they spent some time in Vegas after the event. Merrick, also before you, he passed through Denver. They all spoke of plane crashes, big fires, people looting— just, anarchy.” He glanced in his rear-view and verified that Jordan was still engaged. “It all breaks down, Aurora. Faster than you think. You don’t take care of your lawn, it browns, weeds, becomes overgrowth, and it happens in weeks, not months, or years. Now imagine that on a global scale, and you watch how fast nature reclaims the world. I’m not saying we’re gonna see tree branches growing out of skyscraper windows and bears and wolves roaming the streets for prey tomorrow, but yes, I do believe we’re in the middle of a passing-of-the-torch and that if nothing changes, we’ll see exactly these kinds of conditions in years, not decades. Maybe even months under the right circumstances.”
She picked at her cuticles. “Agree to disagree on this one, I guess. Also, it’s not like we’re done as a species. We’re on our way to a community of people who want to rebuild. To use your lawn metaphor, we’re just putting gas back in the mower now and we’ll be out there again cutting soon.”
“Will we, though? The people of Alpha—their statement says that we need to rethink the way we live. For all you know, we could be churning milk and growing beards by the end of the week.” He sighed. “Listen, I don’t mean to be a Debbie Downer here. I’m just being the pessimist you know me to be.”
“Let’s say you’re right. That Alpha is full of hippies who want to live off the land. Would that be so terrible?”
Zephyr considered it. “No,” he said. “Actually, in the long term, this might be our best hope of surviving. To regrow crops, ranch, etcetera.”
“OK, so how bad would it be if we churned milk or plowed land or what-the-hell-ever a few days a week and then we hung out on the beach, surfed, went drinking and dancing, or—I don’t know— rode every ride at Disneyland all day long in our off hours?” She thumped his forehead with the tip of her index. “Stop over-thinking everything. Take a breath and enjoy what we’ve got, dude. I’ll grant you that it’s not always gonna be easy if you’ll admit that, for whatever reason we’re still alive, we have plenty of opportunities left.”
She had a point. Survival was always his focus and priority. It never fully left him. But had they ever really been in danger of starving or freezing? No. In Las Cruces, they enjoyed a level of extravagance normally reserved for the rich. In many ways, she was right. They could do about anything they wanted.
“Yeah, I’ll admit that,” he said. “A hypothetical for you, then. If this Alpha thing doesn’t work out, what do you wanna do? Lay on the beach and go dancing?”
She laughed. “I don’t know, maybe. What about you?”
“I’m not sure. I mean, as long as we’re all together, I really don’t care what we do.”
“And will we be together? I mean, even after the city?” she asked.
The possibility that they might separate hadn’t ever occurred to him. He pictured Aurora splintered from the group in pursuit of another boy, or running around California with girlfriends, and a wave of nausea crashed over him.
“Yes,” he said. “Well, I wouldn’t want to split up, but I mean, I can’t stop you from doing whatever you want to do. You know, if you decided you wanted to go, I would have to support that.” Seriously? Are you trying to make it easier for her?
She looked away and said nothing, which was so completely opposite of what he anticipated that he wasn’t sure how to proceed.
“What?” he finally asked.
“I just don’t understand you sometimes.”
“Why? I mean, what’s to understand?”
“How you really feel, for starters. About anything. Except for Jordan.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.
She glanced back at the little girl, who stared transfixed as SpongeBob Squarepants performed. “Do you really want to have this conversation here?” she whispered. “Because I’ll do it.”
“What conversation?” Zephyr asked, curious and alarmed by her tone.
“Do you want me to stay with you?”
“Is this a trick question? Of course, I do.” he said.
“Then why would you tell me it’s OK if I want to go do my own thing? How’s that supposed to make me feel? Do you even…” she began and then shook her head. “Just forget it.”
“Aurora,” he said. “I don’t want you to leave. You were the one who raised the topic, not me. I was just trying to be… respectful. What do you want me to say here?”
“Just forget it. Let’s talk about something else.”
Why did she always make him feel like the bad guy for trying to be nice? You were the one who brought up the possibility of leaving, he thought. You. Not me. And suddenly he was angry— at himself, because she was right, and at her for forcing him to acknowledge it.
“Fine. You want to have an uncomfortable conversation? Let’s do it,” he spat as he slowed the car to a stop and faced her while the rain continued its bombardment.
“No, I don’t want you to freakin’ leave. Jesus. How could you imply that? I felt like you ripped my heart in half when you even mentioned that possibility.” He felt it coming out and couldn’t stop himself. “Yes, it’s hard for me to tell you how I feel because I feel everything for you. Everything. Since I first saw you. I wake up every morning wondering where you are and go to bed every night dreaming about you. Every morning and every night.”
His heart raced and he focused on keeping his composure. The way she was staring at him— what was she thinking? Why co
uldn’t he read her at all? Finally, he threw up his hands in defeat, resigned to the fact that he had just erected a mountain of uneasiness between them. Painfully aware now that she probably would leave the group, and all because of this little outburst.
“So, it’s out there now,” he said at last. “Happy? It shouldn’t be awkward at all for the next ten hours, righ—”
Then she was on him, her arms around him, and kissing him. Before he could process it, he felt his arms envelop her, his hands caress her thick, dark hair, and then he pulled her closer and kissed her back. A sensation like hunger swept over him, but it was deeper and more powerful. His mind gave way to instinct and he led with his mouth and hands, meeting her every advance, relishing her breath, the pounding of the rain outpaced by the pounding of his heart.
“You stupid asshole,” she whispered before her lips found his again. “Why’d…” She kissed him. “You… make this…” Again. “So… hard?”
“Sorry. I didn’t think—” But she didn’t give him time to respond. He felt her lips, her hot tears against his cheek, cupped her face and wiped them away with his thumbs. Then they were kissing again.
“What’re you guys doing?” a voiced asked from far away and he ignored it. “Hello? Child in the backseat here.”
Aurora pulled away from his face, giggling, so he tugged her back and kissed her again. When they finished, she leaned into his ear and whispered, “Jordan’s watching us.”
That broke him from the trance and when she leaned back again, he let her.
“I’m just showing Zephyr how much I appreciate his driving,” Aurora joked and wiped at her eyes.
“Whatever,” the little girl said. “Are you guys like boyfriend and girlfriend now?”
Aurora met Zephyr’s gaze. “Yes?”
“Yes,” he said, and then she kissed him again, hard.
The downpour and congestion followed them. Even so, the drive was beautiful, the conversation titillating, and he didn’t care about the circumstances. When darkness fell again and they finally did cross into California, a five-hour trip transformed into an all-day affair, the car erupted with applause and Jordan and Aurora exchanged goofy high-fives. Somewhere between the unexpected lip-locking and the state border, they all decided that plowing straight through to Santa Monica was no longer the priority, even if they thought it was possible. Aurora wanted to track down a decent hotel with a large suite, see Jordan to bed and then stay up talking, and Zephyr thought this sounded like the greatest idea ever conceived.