The Trip

by Tim Morgan

  Every once in a while they caught a glimpse of Lake Erie. Dave wondered if they’d be able to find a cottage or camp house to hunker down in for a couple nights. This should be about halfway home, he thought. We have maybe two months before the frost. We should be able to make it home before the snow flies. Or we could build a campfire like the one I smell.

  Dave rode to the shoulder and stopped. Meghan stopped next to him. “What is it?”

  “You smell that?”

  Meghan sniffed the air. “Smells like a fire.”

  Chris rode a little further, then stopped. He turned around. “You guys coming or what?”

  Dave scanned the tops of the trees. He made out a faint plume of smoke near the lake. “Fire,” he said, pointing.

  “That’s off course,” Chris said. “Let’s go.”

  “Someone’s got a campfire,” Dave said. “We should check it out.”

  “No. Let’s ride. I don’t feel like letting someone else take a shot at me,” Chris said. “Once was enough.”

  “There are people there,” Meghan said. “Maybe there’s food.”

  “I’m calling a vote,” Dave said. “Meghan, you pick it.” Dave took his helmet off. The three of them threw their reflectors in. Meghan pulled hers out.

  “Your call,” Chris said.

  Meghan and Chris looked at one another a long time. “Chris, I’m hungry,” Meghan said.

  Chris nodded. “It’s okay,” he said curtly. “Let’s go.”

  The group rode through the woods toward the plume of smoke. As they got closer they could smell the smoke more and more. After about ten minutes riding through trails they came up on a 10 foot wall of logs, felled from the woods and stacked up neatly, woven between standing trees. The wall went around what looked like a couple of old camping cabins on three sides, with the lake at the back. Then they started hearing voices—human voices! There was a man on top of the wall, waving to them. “Come on!” the man shouted. “Come on! We’re alive in here!”

  Chris took the lead. Dave let Meghan go second while he brought up the rear. The people had fashioned a gate of sorts with two minivans, wood, and chain link fence. They started the vans and pulled them apart just enough for the bikes to pass through. Then they closed them up.

  People came out of the cabins. Adults and children and old people. Living people who smiled and cried and hugged the three of them like they were a gift from God himself. Meghan cried. Dave teared up. Chris was melancholy.

  The questions started immediately.

  “Where did you come from?” asked a black man. The skin on his face was droopy and his eyes sunk in.

  “Originally Massachusetts. We were on our way cross-country when the virus hit.”

  “How far did you get?”

  “Minnesota. Then we turned around.”

  An older woman—thin and blonde, her wavy hair a bit crazy, gaped at them. “You rode from Massachusetts to Minnesota, then back here? Through this? God bless you kids!” She opened her arms and took Dave into her embrace.

  “What’s it like out there?”

  “Not good.”

  The man on the wall pushed his way through the crowd. He held his hands up and the people quieted down. “Please, everyone! I know you’re excited. I sure am. These guys have come a long way. I’m sure they’re tired and they’re hungry. Give them some space. Let them rest and let’s fix them something to eat. We’ve got plenty to talk about.”

  He turned to Chris and held out his hand. “I’m Charlie.” He had a scruffy beard, dark brown eyes and a denim shirt on and if he put on a few pounds, he could have been Santa Claus. “This is Meg,” he said, gesturing to the blonde woman hugging Dave.

  “I’m Chris. This is Meghan. That’s Dave.”

  Charlie motioned to the others. “And this is the gang,” he said. He looked over the group, his eyes a mix of sadness and sympathy. “We’ll get to introductions later. You must be exhausted. We don’t have much, but you’re welcome to share in what we’ve got. You’re safe here.” Meghan cried as she grabbed Charlie in a hug.

  TWENTY

  New York, New York (UPI). The United Nations (U.N.) Security Council held an emergency meeting to discuss repeated skirmishes along the Indian-Pakistani border. Pakistan accused India of attempting to use the crisis caused by the Mumbai virus to launch an opportunistic grab for land in the disputed Kashmir region. Indian officials denied the claims, saying their troops returned fire after Pakistan fired small arms and rocket propelled grenades at Indian border posts.

  Tensions between the two nuclear armed adversaries are at historic levels, with Pentagon analysts reporting both sides appear to be shoring up their borders and may even be in the early stages of deploying nuclear weapons. “We are monitoring the situation and actively discussing the situation with all parties involved. We firmly believe this dispute can be resolved through mediation and diplomacy,” says the Secretary General of the U.N.

  Dave was packing his locker up. He couldn’t believe it—as long as he could remember he had spent the majority of the year in school. Now here he was packing up for the last time. Other kids in the hall were crying, hugging, unpeeling pictures stuck onto their lockers, and reliving memories past. Dave had just one picture hanging in his locker. Him, Meghan, and Chris on the flume ride at Canobie Lake. That was freshman year. Before Mike. Before Traci. Heck, it was even before he really understood how he felt about Meghan. It was before the world went nuts. Nice as it was that it was finally over if given the chance to do it all over again Dave thought he probably would. He put the picture in the front pocket of his backpack.

  He sifted through the papers and junk in the bottom of his locker. He had a bunch of school newspapers—not like there was any shortage of them; they were free and he had a ton at home that he kept in a binder. He figured they would be good for the portfolio until he had some real clips to show off.

  Amid a stack of graded tests he found a Valentine’s Day card. It was from Meghan. Last year, he thought, right after Mike dumped her. Dave, thanks for always being there for me. The card had come attached to a white rose; he closed his eyes and could almost smell the flower. Dave studied Meghan’s handwriting—he always thought her handwriting was beautiful. Dave thought his handwriting was more like a mad scientist’s scrawl during an experiment gone haywire. Dave tucked the card into his notebook and knelt down to get the bottom of his locker.

  Dave threw the papers he didn’t want away when he noticed two female legs standing next to his locker. They were bigger than Meghan’s legs, and while he didn’t mind looking at them he was pretty sure whose legs they were. His eyes followed the legs to curvy hips, the flash of a bellybutton, perky breasts, finishing at Sebrina’s smiling face.

  “Hi Dave,” Sebrina said. She was holding her notebook like she was in love. She was kind of cute but something about her drove Dave nuts—maybe it was her voice. Maybe it was her attitude. Maybe it was the bad blood between her and Meghan. Maybe it was all three.

  Dave sighed. “Hi, Sebrina.” He went back to sorting through his stuff. Where was that history book again? He didn’t want to be on the hook for the fifty bucks to replace it. Oh, there it is, under my gym shorts.

  “Do you know where Chris is?” She leaned in a little too close for Dave’s comfort.

  “Personal space,” Dave said, holding a palm up, “watch the personal space.” Sebrina frowned and backed away. “I haven’t seen Chris. You check his locker?”

  “He wasn’t there.”

  Dave shrugged. “Maybe he’s in the bathroom.” He remembered what it was about Sebrina that drove him nuts. She was always using her looks to get her way. She wasn’t indiscriminate about it—she’d choose her targets carefully and target her assault in a way that would make an unsuspecting guy crumble. It worked especially well on underclassmen and horny guys like Chris. And Dave had to admit—sometimes Sebrina could make his pulse race. Sometimes. For a moment He wondered how she would get by after they gradu
ated, but let that thought go because he really didn’t care.

  “For the whole clean-out period?”

  “Why don’t you ask one of the guys on the track team?” I know exactly where he is. He’s in the nurse’s office where I left him because he felt nauseous. But I’m not going to tell you because I don’t care how popular you are. I don’t like you.

  “They won’t give me the time of day. Jocks.” She said the last word with an exasperated sigh. “I’ve been looking for him all morning.”

  “I’ve got no idea where he is,” Dave said. “I know he’s around. I saw him this morning.” I don’t care what you two did at the prom. I don’t like what you did to Chris and Traci. I sure as hell don’t like what you did to Meghan. You know who talked her down from the ledge? Me. I’ve never seen anyone hurt like that. She loved Mike, but you wanted to take him from her just because you could. And you did. And you moved on. That’s why I don’t like you. Period. Now get your chest, your eyes, your hair, and your ass out of my face and out of my life. And if I didn’t know someone you gave it up to would kick my ass for opening my mouth, I’d tell you.

  Sebrina held out a note. “Could you give this to him?”

  Do I look like the freakin’ post office? Give him your own letter and leave me out of this. In a couple of days we graduate, and I’ll never see you again. “Sure.”

  “Thank you, Dave.” She petted his cheek with her hand and winked before she walked off.

  Dave rolled his eyes as he returned to cleaning out his locker. I thought she was never going to leave. He glanced down at the note. He seriously thought about throwing it into the trash bag. No. This is Chris’ problem. I’ve done enough. He needs to figure this out. I can’t stand Sebrina, but at least Meghan didn’t see . . .

  Dave looked up to see Meghan walking toward him, a scowl on her face.

  Shit.

  Meghan kept her eyes on Sebrina’s ass as it wiggled down the hall. “What did she want? What did she give you?” Does every pair of her jeans have sequined butterflies on the cheeks of her butt?

  “You want to know what she gave me? A headache. By the way, she wasn’t looking for me.”

  Meghan turned to Dave. “She’s looking for Chris?”

  Dave shrugged. “Yup,” he said.

  Meghan noticed the note in Dave’s hand. “She’s writing him notes?”

  “Yup.” Dave turned it over in his hand.

  “That’s so seventh grade. Open it.”

  “No!”

  “Come on, don’t you want to know what it says?”

  “No.”

  “I do!” Meghan said, reaching for the note. “Let me see it!”

  Dave held it away at arm’s length, keeping Meghan at bay with the other. “Meghan, no!” His command was firm yet polite. “This is between Sebrina and Chris. It’s none of my business, and it’s definitely none of yours.” I’m annoying him, Meghan thought, I better back off.

  Dave put the note in his pocket.

  “You really don’t want to know what it says?” Meghan asked.

  “No. I know too much already,” Dave said as he took two of his books out of his locker and closed the door.

  Chris felt better later in the day. He made it through biology class and was the first student out the door. He saw Sebrina across the hall, talking to a bunch of people in her class with their cell phones out. Thank God, I can get out of here. He hadn’t felt too hot all day, and he wasn’t sure whether it was because he didn’t want to run into Sebrina or the HIV.

  He caught up with Dave in their last period study hall. With just days left in the year the teachers were letting the seniors pretty much spend the entire time talking. Dave took the note out of his pocket and held it out to Chris.

  “What’s that?” Chris asked.

  “What does it look like?” Dave replied.

  “Who’s it from?”

  “Who do you think it’s from?”

  “Sebrina?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Throw it away. I don’t want to see it. I can’t read it.”

  “Dude,” Dave said, “you did the deed; you need to own up to it.”

  Chris took the note. Unfolded it. Read it.

  Dear Chris,

  Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d get to share what I did with you! It was beautiful; it was awesome; it was so good! I squeal with delight when I think about it. I never thought anyone could keep up with me like you did.

  I don’t know how you feel, but I think you’re the one I’ve been looking for. It was so good—I hope we can get together again soon.

  I love you!

  Sebrina

  Chris crumpled the note up and buried his face in his hands.

  “Dude, what’s the matter?” Dave asked. “You don’t look so good.”

  Chris looked at Dave through the space between his fingers. He shook his head. What have I gotten myself into?

  TWENTY-ONE

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  On the way out here I was so surprised at how nice the people could be when they found out what we were doing. Most of them would let us pitch our tents in their yard. A few invited us in for lemonade, or supper, or left their door open so we could use their bathroom. People were so kind to us . . . sure, there was the occasional jerk, but most people were awesome.

  In the refugee camp that changed. Most of the people didn’t want to talk to you; they didn’t want you near their stuff. Some of them wouldn’t even look at you waiting in the same line for the bathroom or food.

  We found a really nice family out here—the Gleasons—Charlie and Meg, and a bunch of their friends and relatives. They’ve built this fort out here around their cabins. It’s kind of cool, and it looks like it could keep the zombies out. We didn’t have to sleep in shifts last night!

  Every day I think about you guys and pray you’re OK. I hope things are OK. Please, write back when you can.

  It had been two days since they stumbled across Charlie’s little slice of heaven. Meghan woke to a brilliant blue sky and a gentle breeze coming off the lake. She walked out of the cabin—it was such a strange sensation for her to be able to move freely again—and made her way to the water’s edge. She savored the feeling of the mud squishing up between her toes. Cool and sandy, just like the cabins they went to in Maine.

  They were being treated like long-lost family. For three nights they had venison—Charlie had bagged a deer and there was still plenty of meat. Somewhere deep down inside Meghan knew she objected, but real meat was such a treat—and she didn’t want to insult Charlie. There was even a shower—it was lake water in a solar heater, but it sure felt good to get a month’s worth of filth off. They even had a chance to rinse their clothes in the lake and airdry them. She never thought she would revel in the feel of a clean socks and underwear.

  A sound in the woods brought her instincts front and center. Meghan’s eyes darted along the water’s edge. Could one of those things come lumbering up out of the lake like every horror movie she’d ever seen? What if that mob showed up? How long would the walls hold out? These guys have canoes—are there enough for everyone?

  She saw something move out of the corner of her eye. Instinctively she drew down into a crouch, scanning the woods. It was a bird. She stood up, folding her arms over herself. Such a beautiful morning; why am I so cold?

  She turned at the sound of footsteps behind her. It was Charlie, holding two mugs in his hand. He held one out to Meghan. “Cocoa?” he asked.

  “Thanks,” Meghan said, taking the mug. It tasted like the cheap stuff—maybe Swiss Miss—but she was grateful.

  “You’re up early.”

  “Habit,” Meghan said. “We’ve been sleeping in shifts.”

  Charlie nodded. He took a sip of his cocoa. “Can’t relax, can you?”

  Meghan shook her head.

  “Feel like talkin’?”

 
Small waves lapped the shore. Meghan sipped her cocoa. She smoothed her hair away from her face. “I haven’t heard from my family in almost a month,” she said.

  Charlie nodded. He had a faraway look in his eyes. He stared out at the lake a long time. He didn’t look at Meghan as he spoke. “I’m sure they’re fine.”

  Meghan didn’t answer. She rinsed her feet in the lake water. The mud formed little clouds that swirled around and hid the bottom for a minute before they settled. “What did you do before?”

  “For work?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I was a carpenter.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup. Built these cabins with my own hands.”

  “They’re beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Did you and Meg have any kids?”

  “Jerry—my son.”

  “How’s he doing?”

  Charlie paused, taking a deep breath. “He was in Mumbai when the virus broke out.”

  “Oh my God! Was he infected?’

  “No,” Charlie said. “God no. They quarantined the city on the day he was supposed to come home. They closed the airport. Shut the docks. Closed all the roads. I called my congressman, my senator. At one point I got the secretary at the White House. They took my name and said they’d call me back. Your concerns have been noted, Mister Gleason, and we’ll call you back. They didn’t. Those people were trapped in that hotel with no weapons, no food. All they had were pills. Barely enough to go around . . . if someone had just helped me he’d be alive today . . . ” Charlie threw his cocoa out across the grass. “We buried a picture of him because we don’t have a body.”