The Trip

by Tim Morgan

  Meghan touched Charlie’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

  Charlie nodded, took a step away. “You guys can stay here long as you want,” Charlie said over his shoulder.

  Meghan set her laptop out to charge before breakfast. There was good sunshine today, so she set it out on a chair down by the water. When she checked after lunch she had half battery power. She powered up and checked her signal strength. Three bars—best she’d had in a while. She launched FireFox and waited for her blog to load. She checked for a reply. Nothing.

  Meghan sighed as she closed the laptop. Why do I keep doing this to myself? If Mom, Dad, and Karen are in a refugee camp, they’re probably not going to have access to a computer. Even if they did, would they remember my blog address?

  She stared at the lake. It’s so peaceful here; Charlie and his friends are so nice. It’s like things were before the virus, before the zombies. We could stay here a couple more days, or a couple more weeks. But then what?

  Meghan found Chris and Dave throwing pebbles into the lake. One would throw his pebble. Both would watch where it landed, and then the other would throw. They would pause again, watching where the next pebble would land. The contest went on in silence, with each trying to out-throw the other. Dave noticed Meghan approaching and hoped his pebble would go further than Chris’.

  “Hey guys.”

  “Hey,” Dave said. “Any word from your folks?”

  Meghan shook her head.

  “That sucks,” Chris said. He wound up and threw another pebble. “What I wouldn’t give to get my cell phone back.”

  The three sat in silence for a while. Dave and Meghan looked at one another. Chris kept throwing pebbles.

  “I want to get back on the road,” Meghan said.

  Chris stopped throwing rocks. “Why?” he asked. “We have food. We have a safe place to sleep. We can just wait it out here.”

  “If this is the end of the world I want to go home.” Meghan folded her arms across her chest and stared Chris right in the eye.

  “Wow,” Chris said. “If I thought any of us would want to stay here, I’d think it would be you. What do you think, Dave?”

  “We came out here together—let’s go home together.” Dave didn’t really want to leave this sanctuary. For the first time in over a month he felt safe. He couldn’t let Meghan go off by herself with Chris, lest he get them both killed because he made a stupid decision.

  “Do you want to stay a couple more days?” Chris asked. “Rest up a bit?”

  “No,” Meghan said. “I need to get home. I need to know what happened to my family.”

  That night dinner was venison by the light of Coleman gas lanterns. Everyone was laughing as Dave explained their quest for water after leaving Milan. “ . . . and then we need to go upstairs, and Chris signals me to find a knife or something. So me and Meghan go searching every drawer in the kitchen while he’s watching the steps. All I can find is this little steak knife,” Dave said.

  “It was a butter knife,” Chris added. Everyone laughed again.

  “It may not have been sharp,” Dave said, “but it was a steak knife. So we sneak upstairs, thinking something is going to kill all of us.” The kids clung tight to their parents. One buried his face in his mother’s side. “And there was nothing there. Turned out it was the wind.”

  Side conversations started. People started playing armchair quarterback and thinking about what they would have done, and whether they would have handled the same situation any differently.

  Meghan couldn’t take any more. “Charlie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “We’ve been thinking . . . ” Silence fell over the table. Meghan took a deep breath and continued. “We appreciate all you’ve done for us, but . . . ”

  “You want to leave?”

  Meghan nodded.

  “Why?”

  “My family . . . I need to know what happened to them.” Her eyes welled up with tears.

  “You sure? It’s dangerous out there. Boston got hit hard.”

  “We’ve all talked it over,” Meghan said. “The three of us agree. We need to know.” She was terrified—Charlie was the first friendly person they’d seen since leaving the refugee camp. This was his camp, and he was in charge. If push came to shove and he demanded they stay, she wouldn’t put up a fight.

  Charlie put his silverware down. He sat there a while, deep in thought. Finally he spoke. “Okay,” he said. “I don’t like it, but you’re adults and it’s your choice. Set a waypoint in your GPS in case you need to find your way back . . . or if you find anyone, let them know we’re here.”

  “We will,” Meghan said.

  They finished dinner in awkward silence and turned in early. Meghan lay awake in her cot, staring at the ceiling, hands behind her head. You’re adults and it’s your choice, she thought. I think he really meant it.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Paris, Fance (UPI). French officials confirmed the Mumbai virus has appeared within their borders, bringing the rapidly spreading virus through Europe with no sign of slowing down. Confirmed cases have been reported from Japan in the East, through the Middle East, Russia, Greece, Italy, Germany, and France. Total cases are estimated to be in the millions with no sign of slowing down. Anti-viral medications have thus far proven ineffective, and officials are still frantically working on a vaccine.

  All flights from central Europe to countries where the virus has not been detected have been cancelled. The President is considering sealing the borders of the United States through an executive order, but is meeting heavy opposition from Congress and business leaders who fear such an embargo would devastate the global economy.

  A week later Meghan clapped as the first student’s name was called. “April Adams.” She wouldn’t have long to wait—her last name being Clark after all, good Irish girl with a good Irish name. Twelve years of her life: the work, the laughs, the tears . . . it all ended today.

  She scanned the bleachers. Mom, Dad, and Karen were there. They waved. She waved back. She found Dave’s parents in the crowd. They waved to each other as well while someone in the back row started throwing a beach ball around. The presentation stopped as one of the gym teachers grabbed the ball and slashed it with a razor blade.

  Names were called; people went up for their diplomas. Meghan cheered as Michelle went up for her diploma. A familiar name was called next.

  “Christopher Allen.”

  Chris got up from his seat and made his way to the stage to honest applause. He was numb; the last six months had been unbearable. He was looking forward to getting his diploma, going to dinner with his family, and focusing on the trip. The solitude of being on the road would give him time to figure everything out and find his way.

  “I love you Chris!” Sebrina shouted. Chris took his diploma with a smile. Just a few more hours, he thought, a few more hours here, then a couple days, and I’ll be able to get away from you. He blew a kiss to Serbina from the stage.

  Dave winced at the gesture. Dude, are you ever going to learn? Dave shook his head and felt around under the folds of his gown. His father helped him stick a couple of beach balls under his shirt before he left for graduation. It was tradition since anyone could remember; at the BMHS graduation someone was bound to start tossing a beach ball. His last name was Lawrence. Smack in the middle of the alphabet. He was fortunate enough to only have to pay attention for half the alphabet, but then he was also stuck there listening to 200-odd names on the trailing end. That would give Dave plenty of time to inflate a beach ball...

  He clapped like a robot through most of the awarding of the diplomas. Senior year had been something else. There was the whole HIV thing with Chris. Chris and Traci’s breakup was anything but smooth. Some of the guys on the track team were ostracizing Chris for his overactive sex drive. Dave had to play counselor for his friend, and third quarter his grades slid a bit. And there was the possibility of an all-out war in Asia.

  The last few weeks their cl
ass started watching the unfolding crisis of the Mumbai virus’ spread through Asia. Mr. Stiles warned, “This part of the world has been simmering for a while. Something like this could trigger a third world war. A war some of you may need to fight in.”

  Dave took a look around as he clapped. He knew some of the guys in the class were planning on going into the service. Would any of them have to fight? For that matter, would he? The crisis was unfolding dangerously close to Russia and China. The world is so uncertain, he thought. For a few minutes he wished he could turn back time and do it all over again.

  “Meghan Clark.”

  Dave let out a loud whoop and rose to his feet. Meghan turned, flashed a smile at him, and waved. In the white cap and gown she looked angelic. This could be our last summer together. I’m so glad I’m going on the trip with her.

  Meghan proudly walked onto the stage and accepted her diploma. She looked out across the sea of green and white under a bright blue June sky. Most everyone was clapping—people she knew, people she didn’t know, most everyone she cared for, and even a few she didn’t care for were applauding. Even Sebrina was putting her hands together. Minutes, Meghan thought, just a few more minutes and you’ll be just a distant memory for me. I can’t wait.

  From the middle rows a half-inflated beach ball flew into the air. Everything stopped: the principal stopped calling names; the gym teachers on the periphery of the field tried to maneuver in to grab the beach ball and slashed it with razors; and everyone who caught it threw it away fast as they could. The beach ball hit Sebrina in the back of the head, knocking her cap off. As soon as the ball hit the ground one of the gym teachers pounced on it and slashed it with a razor. As he crushed the air out of the ball, they continued calling names.

  Mr. Davis was walking around Dave’s section, with his eyes on Dave’s row. Rivulets of sweat ran down Dave’s cheeks and neck. The heat of the afternoon sun beating down on them combined with his nerves about Mr. Davis standing feet away with a razor in his hand had Dave off balance. He needs to go away so I can blow this other beach ball up before they—

  “You better not get us thrown out of graduation, Lawrence,” the girl sitting next to him said. They were in the same homeroom—Emily Lancaster, Dave thought. She had a big nose and a bad attitude but a cute body. All four years they were in homeroom together, and all four years Dave couldn’t stand her.

  Dave scratched the side of his head with his middle finger. Emily was flabbergasted. She opened her mouth to reply when the announcer said:

  “David Lawrence.”

  Shit.

  Dave shifted the beach ball into his the small of his back. I’ll tuck it in there, and when I sit down I’ll blow it up. It’s gonna be a long time before I can get out of this seat—maybe I’ll wait until they get to the last person.

  He walked to the stage with a confident strut. Dave reveled in the cheers of his family, Chris, Meghan, and the rest of the senior class. This was it—12 years of his life spent in school and now it was over. He earned his diploma. He made it through. He felt the beach ball fall out of the back of his gown as he walked back to his seat. Crap, Dave thought, I didn’t put it in tight enough.

  Mr. Davis moved in like a shark. He snatched up the beach ball and slashed it with his razor, glaring at Dave through secret agent sunglasses. Dave waved, smiled, and found his way to his seat. The entire senior class booed.

  The last name was called. There was the closing speech, the final pep talk, and then the class threw their caps into the air. Dave made his way through the crowd—shaking hands with his friends, giving a quick hug here or there—until he made his way to Meghan.

  Meghan smiled when she saw Dave. They hugged.

  “We did it,” Meghan said.

  “We did,” Dave replied.

  “I never thought it would end.”

  “Me neither.”

  Dave saw Chris making his way over. They shook hands. Chris hugged Meghan. “Congratulations,” he said. Then he pushed on through the crowd.

  “Where are you going?” Dave asked.

  “Gotta beat the crowd out of here,” Chris said. “We’ll catch up later.” A moment later he disappeared into the sea of green and white robes.

  “What’s up with that?” Meghan asked.

  “That’s Chris for you,” Dave said.

  Chris disappeared into the crowd and made for his truck. He unzipped the graduation gown and tossed it onto the passenger seat. Climbing inside he turned the air conditioning up as high as it could go. He flipped down the visor and took a look at the graduation card he bought for Sebrina. It was a cute card, with a picture of a teddy bear in a cap and gown. He opened the card and read his note again.

  Sebrina—I’ve been thinking about the note you wrote me. I had a great time at the prom, too. I think about it a lot, to tell you the truth.

  There are a couple of things I need to get off my chest, though. First I’m really not looking to get back into a relationship. I know this is going to sound like a cop-out, but I do have a lot going on in my life that I need to sort through first.

  Second—and more importantly, and this is tough for me to say . . . I’m HIV positive. I know, what I did without being protected was stupid. That doesn’t matter right now—you need to go get yourself tested and see whether you’re infected or not.

  I’m sorry, Sebrina. I wish I could do this in person, but right now there’s just way too much going on for me to deal with. When I get back from the ride I’ll call to check on you. Maybe we can get together again. I promise. –Chris.

  It was bullshit: Chris had no intention of calling her or getting together, and if Sebrina had half a brain on top of her tits she’d know it was bullshit too. I just hope she doesn’t think the part about me being HIV positive is bullshit, too.

  TWENTY-THREE

  FireFox can’t find the server at www.cnn.com. Please check your spelling and try again.

  We’ve decided we’re going to leave Charlie’s camp. It’s nice here, and I love feeling safe. But this isn’t my home, this isn’t my family, and I really, really want to go home. We’re going to leave first thing in the morning.

  Charlie took it well. I was worried he was going to be mad. If he was he did a good job of hiding it. He respected our decision. He’s so nice—he’s going to give us some canned food and some venison jerky.

  I think Chris could go either way, but I know poor Dave wanted to stay. Charlie offered, but Dave wants to come with us. I’m glad he is—I don’t think I could make it without both of them.

  I’m really worried about you guys. I haven’t been able to get any news sites; it looks like email is down and the only things still running are my blog and Facebook. Nobody’s updating their statuses anymore. I hope it’s because everyone is so busy trying to survive.

  I’ve got to go. I love you guys. Tell Karen and Rocket I love them too, and I miss them.

  Love, Meghan.

  Chris was up at first light. It was a warm morning with a gentle breeze blowing in off the lake. He walked to the edge of the water and started throwing pebbles as hard as he could. He could see a splash where they hit the water, and there would be brief concentric ripples that quickly disappeared into the wind-blown waves. Each pebble was a problem—zombies, hunger, loneliness, HIV—and Chris imagined they disappeared into a void as the pebble hit the water. Deep down inside he knew it changed nothing, but it did help him feel better. Chris turned to the sound of crunching footsteps in the sand.

  It was Charlie. He nodded and took a place next to Chris. Chris threw another pebble out into the water.

  “You guys still heading out?” Charlie asked.

  “Yeah. Once the others are up, we figure we’ll eat breakfast and hit the road.” Chris looked along the ground for another rock.

  “I’ve got something for you guys.” Charlie took a pistol from his pocket. It was a tiny revolver that looked like it couldn’t possibly be real. “This isn’t much, but it’s what we can spare.�
� He held the pistol out to Chris, making sure the barrel pointed out toward the lake.

  Chris stared at the pistol, then Charlie. “Uh . . . ”

  Charlie gestured with the pistol. Chris took it. It was heavier than he expected it to be, but once he had the gun in his hand it felt right. He twisted it left, then right, and looked down the sights out onto the lake. If only he could figure out how this thing worked.

  “None of us know how to shoot,” Chris said.

  Charlie narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “It’s not like on TV where you point it and pull the trigger. This is a single-action revolver. You’ve got to cock the hammer before you shoot. Be careful—it doesn’t have a safety.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Once this is cocked, it doesn’t take much to fire. Be damn sure you want to shoot what you’re pointing at before you pull the trigger.”

  Chris turned the barrel toward his face so he could see inside the cylinders. Charlie jumped forward, seizing Chris’ wrist with a speed he didn’t expect.

  “For God’s sake, watch where you’re pointing that! It’s loaded!”

  “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Chris said, offering the pistol back to Charlie.

  “Please. Trust me. Take it.” Charlie was near tears. “You need to be safe.”

  Chris lowered the gun. “Okay, we’ll take it. Thank you.”

  “I wish we could give you more bullets for it . . . but that’s all we’ve got left. It’s only a 22; we won’t miss it.”

  “How many bullets do we have?”

  “What’s in it is what we have. One.”

  “One bullet?” Chris said, “How the hell are we going to protect ourselves with one bullet?”

  “Very carefully.” Charlie said.

  About that time Meghan and Dave came out of the cabin. They walked over to where Charlie and Chris were. They said their good mornings and asked what was going on. Chris explained about the pistol and the one bullet. Charlie told them it wasn’t a big deal, they had other guns for the zombies, and some bows and arrows they were hunting with so they really wouldn’t miss the pistol. It wasn’t going to do Charlie any good keeping a mob of zombies away should one show up, but for them it would probably come in handy.