In the Lone and Level Sands

by David Lovato

  Charlotte and Al were both awake even after the others had drifted off to sleep.

  “I’m sorry things turned out this way,” Al said.

  “It’s not your fault,” Charlotte replied after a few minutes. The silence was like poison.

  “We need to stick together in this. It’s what family does.”

  “I know we do. It’s just… so hard.”

  “And that’s even more reason for us to stay together. I’ll be here for you. We’ve both lost a lot, but we’ll survive. Remember that, all right?”

  “I will, Dad,” Charlotte said.

  They were silent for some time, and then Charlotte stood up and walked toward the door.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I need some fresh air. I won’t be long. I just can’t sleep right now.”

  “I don’t like the idea of you going out on your own,” Al said.

  “I’ll be fine. Like I said, won’t be long.” The door closed softly behind her.

  Charlotte walked down the narrow path between the lot and the rooms. The cement felt cool and rough on the soles of her feet. Before long, she felt tears drip down her cheeks. She had gone long enough trying not to think of Ben. It was time to continue grieving.

  She stopped in her tracks when she heard a door open. A man exited the motel room directly in front of her. He buttoned his pants and straightened his shirt.

  Charlotte might have turned and headed back inside, had she recognized him as Edward, the man from the gas station the day before. But she didn’t.

  He smiled at Charlotte. His greasy, midnight hair hung in and around his face. He lifted a thin hand and brushed some of his bangs from his eyes. He smelled strongly of cologne. It nearly made Charlotte gag.

  “Hello there, miss. Nice morning for a walk, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I suppose,” Charlotte said.

  “You seem down. Tell me, my dear. What could be troubling a pretty girl such as yourself?”

  “I don’t really want to talk about it. Especially not with a complete stranger.”

  “That’s my fault, I’m afraid. How rude of me. My name is Edward Friar. It seems we’re neighbors at this little motel. Will you do me the favor of telling me your name?” He rubbed the scar on his neck.

  “It’s Charlotte.”

  Edward smiled. “See, now we know one another. So, what is troubling you, Charlotte?”

  “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve just lost my husband, and I don’t really feel like going into that. Will you please let me be, Edward?”

  “I see.” Edward’s smile faded. “It is a terrible world we live in, that our loved ones have to die. Some say it’s part of life. Some say the fittest survive. But I say, it is unfair.” Edward looked down for a second, then back into Charlotte’s eyes. “It doesn’t matter in the end, you know.”

  “What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” Charlotte said.

  “All of this,” Edward said, gesturing broadly with his arms, “is an illusion. It is a dream, my dear Charlotte.”

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Do you ever have dreams where it gets so frightening and then, right when you think the worst is upon you, poof! You wake up. This is where we are. All we can do is enjoy our time here before the dreamer wakes. Which reminds me. Come, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

  Charlotte took a step backward. “Look, it’s been fun, but I really need to get back to my room. I’m tired, and my father’s probably wondering where I am.”

  “I wish you’d reconsider,” Edward said. “She craves the opportunity to make your acquaintance, I’m sure.”

  “Tomorrow would be better.”

  Al left the motel room, carrying his handgun. Charlotte turned from Edward when she heard the door. Edward took a step forward, grabbed her arm, and yanked her toward him.

  “Wha—Let go of me! Let go!” Charlotte pulled, but Edward wrapped his other arm around her front. She screamed as he pulled out a knife. Al’s eyes widened, and he bolted forward, but stopped when Edward pressed the flat of the blade against Charlotte’s neck.

  “You again?” Al said. “What the hell are you doing? Let her go!”

  Edward laughed. “Me again, yes. And contrary to what you may be thinking, I’m not following you. It’s just happenstance. Or is it? A mystery for the ages, what’s left of them.”

  “Please, don’t,” Charlotte said. Edward gently turned the knife. The sharp edge dug into her flesh.

  “Let her go!” Al said. He raised his gun.

  “Ah, ah, ah! If you shoot me, I might slip, and I just might take this one with me.”

  “What do you even want her for?”

  “Desiree is hungry. How do you think I keep her alive? Tea and cakes?”

  Al glared at Edward, who flashed a cool grin. Charlotte was struggling to get away. “For God’s sake, let her go!”

  “Bringing God into it, I see. Fair enough. If you answer correctly for me one little question, I’ll free her. If not, then, well, I think you know what will happen.”

  “This isn’t a game! Just let her go!”

  A small drop of blood rolled down Charlotte’s neck. She winced.

  Al sighed and lowered his gun. “What’s the question?”

  “It’s something that has puzzled me for many years. Maybe you will be the one who has the answer.”

  “Damn it, what’s the question?” Al was shaking.

  “Why is a raven like a writing desk?”

  “What?” Al said.

  “Why is a raven like a writing desk?”

  “There is no answer! It makes no fucking sense!”

  “It’s tricky, isn’t it?” Edward said. “But, still, there is an answer. Every question has an answer. Does it not? Oh well.” He started to drag Charlotte toward his motel room.

  “Wait!” Al said. He laughed. “You’re right. It’s obvious. I’ve known the answer my entire life.”

  “Really?” Edward said. His eyes lit up, and his grip on Charlotte loosened. “Out with it, then!”

  “Because,” Al said. “They’re both black, like my gun,” which he raised and fired. The bullet hit Edward in the shoulder. Edward screamed as the bone shattered, and he no longer had the strength to hold the knife. Charlotte shoved her elbow into him as hard as she could and pulled away. She rushed to her father. Al hugged her and they both looked at Edward, who began laughing.

  “You’re very clever, you slithy one, you.”

  “You can go straight to hell.” Al turned back to Charlotte. “Let’s get this looked at.” He pointed to the blood trickling from her neck. It took only a minute in the bathroom to wash the wound, but when Al had made sure Charlotte was fine and then poked his head outside, Edward was gone. There was blood on the ground, but no sign of the red car.

  ****

  Everyone was up by 1:30 in the afternoon. There was running water, so everyone showered, even though they had to change back into their dirty clothes. When they were done they gathered their things.

  Charlotte left her room with Al close behind her. Fred had Angus on the leash just outside their door. Charlotte looked down the way, almost expecting Edward to be there. She sighed.

  “What are you looking for?” Fred asked.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “I noticed that little red car is gone.”

  “Just someone passing through,” Al said. He exchanged glances with Charlotte.

  “Is that so?” Fred said. “How many bullets does it take for someone to ‘just pass through’? I only heard the one.”

  Al grinned. “You got us, I guess. It was that sick fuck, Edward.”

  “He got away, then?”

  “Yep.”

  “And I assume he took the girl with him? The room’s empty, anyway.”

  “I guess so,” Al said.

  “Swell. Well, there’s no real need to alarm the others. We’ll take a long route to Last Station, make sure he can’t follow.”
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  “Thanks, Fred,” Charlotte said.

  “Sure.” Angus squatted in a dirt patch and began his business, and Fred called into his room. “Sara, you about ready?”

  Carah and Richard left their room and shut the door behind them.

  “Just another minute!” Sara said.

  “How’d you sleep, Fred?” Richard asked.

  “Like I didn’t deserve, Rich!” He chuckled. “How about yourself?”

  “Me too. Both of us, actually. Carah didn’t even want to get up.” He laughed and Carah play-hit him on the shoulder, having read his lips.

  Sara left her room and Fred let Angus into the van. Everyone else took their seats, and then they were off.

  ****

  Nearly two hours later, the survivors entered Last Station, Maine. The town looked mostly untouched, there were almost no zombies or bodies. It looked as if everyone had evacuated.

  They drove down Forester Avenue and saw nothing. On the next street, a car had crashed into a flagpole in front of Last Station High School. The flag still flapped in the wind, high above the ground.

  “Cellar Door is just a few miles away,” Charlotte said. “Just take this road to the corner and turn right.”

  “All right,” Fred said.

  “What are you going to do when we get to this place?” Randy asked.

  “I’m not sure, but I’ll know when I get there. If Cellar Door is as deserted as the town, maybe we can stay there for a while.”

  “It sure looks safe enough around here,” Sara said.

  The turn took them down a hill. On one side was a cute wooden fence that wrapped around a seemingly endless front lawn. A horse walking slowly across the grass stopped to graze.

  The road curved a few times, and soon they reached a large building. It looked at least a half-century old, with vines growing around the windows and strong trees dotting the hills around it.

  A weeping willow stood in the front lawn. Below it was a bench. Charlotte couldn’t see from the van, but she and Ben had carved their initials into it, and the memory brought tears to her eyes.

  “Are you sure you want to be here?” Al asked.

  Charlotte nodded and took her seatbelt off, then opened the door. She savored the crunching sound her feet made on the little white rocks of the gravel drive. Charlotte smiled, even as her eyes teared up.

  Everyone got out. Fred led Angus on the leash, worried he’d run off and get lost. Fred also had his shotgun ready, even though there didn’t seem to be any immediate threat.

  “Seems odd that there aren’t any zombies up here,” he said.

  It’s so beautiful, Carah signed to Richard.

  It sure is.

  “It’s nice, for a change,” Sara said. “With this place the way it is, you’d think everything had returned to normal.”

  “Yeah,” Al said. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

  ****

  Everyone had gone inside, but Charlotte was sitting on the old wooden bench with Al’s gun. She needed time alone with her thoughts. The weeping boughs of the willow swayed gently in the wind around her. The sun was shining, little fragments making it through the tree’s leaves. Charlotte sighed.

  I came here looking for his memory, looking for him, when he was right in front of me. How selfish was I?

  Charlotte looked over Cellar Door’s grounds. The grass waved at her, long and needing a trim. She began to cry.

  This is my punishment. He lost his memory, I lost him, and here I am, lost myself, trapped with my own memories.

  Charlotte looked up at the sky, tears rolling down her cheeks. Eventually she walked back to the door, gun in hand, and rejoined her family. They welcomed her happily. It was time for lunch.

  ****

  “Charlotte?” Ben said. He seemed different. It took Charlotte some time to notice he had aged significantly. He looked older than Fred. His wrinkles parted when he smiled.

  “What, Ben?”

  Charlotte looked at her hands as Ben took them in his. They were just as wrinkled. She was elderly, just like him. She smiled back.

  “Do you know how much I love you?”

  Charlotte smiled bigger. “How much?”

  “More than anything in the world.”

  Charlotte laughed a little. She felt a few tears in her eyes. “I love you too, Ben.”

  They sat in each other’s company for a little while, listening to the cool breeze blowing through their white hair, and the slight creak of the porch swing. They were at their home in Ashton.

  Ben turned to Charlotte. “So, we’ve grown old together,” he said.

  “Yeah,” Charlotte said.

  “Was it all it was cracked up to be?” His old, blue eyes gleamed in the sunshine.

  “Everything I had imagined, and more.”

  Charlotte sighed, filled with happiness. She gazed across their yard. Past the neatly trimmed grass and the sidewalk was the road. About halfway across, the pavement ended in a rough edge. The drop would be infinite. Charlotte knew this without seeing it, she had no idea how, but she was fine with it.

  Countless minutes went by.

  “I love you, Charlotte Hopper.”

  “I love you, Ben Hopper.”

  More eons went by. Then Charlotte said what had been on her mind the entire time.

  “This is a dream, isn’t it?”

  Ben looked at her and smiled. “If it is, I guess we’ll just have to enjoy it, until the dreamer wakes.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  72

  In the Safe Zone

  Even when Max was awake, it felt like he was dreaming. He had vague memories of stumbling out of the Humvee, being greeted by Nikki, who couldn’t hide her happiness at his return, or her sadness upon meeting his eyes. He remembered toiling long into the morning to give Ortiz a burial accompanied by a twenty-one gun salute, with the help of a few of the refugees. Muddy and sweaty and covered in blood, he had then limped to one of the cots to lie down. He remembered waking a few times, and usually saw Nikki by his cot, talking to him or getting him water or just being there.

  A few days passed and Max mostly slept through them. He slept through the daily radio broadcasts, through the rules of the community being established, through the refugees helping to reinforce the walls, through the other soldiers continuing their never-ending work.

  It was July 8th when Max finally got out of his cot. He joined the commotion in the mess hall. Nikki brought him a plate of food.

  “I thought you’d never get up,” she said. “You need to eat, you idiot. You’ll starve.” Even her insults had become music to Max’s ears.

  “I feel like I could still sleep,” he said.

  “You’re not leaving the rest of us to do all of the work, you lazy bum.” Nikki ate, but Max only picked at his food.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll be more helpful from now on. I promise.”

  Lou appeared, and sat next to Max. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything. Max, how are you?”

  “Awful.” Max took a bite of his food.

  “The radio broadcasts every day,” Lou said. “We have a plan.”

  Max was getting sick of plans. Still, he knew he had work to do. “What’s up?”

  “See, there’s this local station, and it broadcasts recordings from an AM station, and the local guy adds his own messages. This local guy, we want to find him. We can ask him to get the word out about this place. The more people who show up, the more help we have.”

  “Sounds good,” Max said. He took another bite.

  “It gets better. See, the AM station, it can broadcast a lot farther. We can bring people here from all over the country, get them to safety. We can also get the word out, get out instructions. People could build safe zones like this one all over America.”

  Max put his fork down and stared into nothing.

  “We just have to find this local guy and ask him where the other station is broadcasting from. Then one of us will head out there.”

  Max tho
ught of his cot. It wasn’t comfortable, but it seemed like a great place to be, compared to the thought of hunting down two radio DJs across the country.

  He looked up at Nikki. She smiled. Max smiled back. “All right,” he said. “When do we head out?”

  ****

  “Phones still don’t work,” Johns said. “They turn on, but there’s no service. I didn’t expect there to be, but it still complicates things.”

  “So how do we find the station?” Max asked.

  “I’ve asked around,” Lou said. “A few of the refugees have listened to the station before. One of them won tickets, once. He had to go out there to get them. He drew us a map. Couldn’t remember the exact address, but there should be a big tower near it.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Columbia. Not too far, but if this guy’s alive in there, he probably has the place fortified pretty well.”

  “We’ll find a way in,” Max said.

  They packed up the Humvee. Nikki stood and watched them. Max could feel her eyes burning into the back of his head, so he turned to her.

  “I won’t be gone long,” he said.

  “I want to come with you. And don’t give me that ‘it’s too dangerous’ bullshit.”

  “Stay here. Give me something worth coming back for.”

  Nikki sighed. “Fine. As long as you give me something worth waking up for.”

  Max smiled. “Keep checking the radio. We’ll be back in no time.”

  The three soldiers got into the Humvee and drove away.

  Nikki hadn’t bought Max’s “Give me something to come back for,” but she decided she’d stay to keep an eye out for Max’s family. He’d spoken of them, so she had a good idea of what to watch for. Nikki would help run the community, and make sure Max’s family didn’t miss him while he was away.

  She remained glued to the radio, for the most part. When she helped out around the base, she kept a radio as close as she could. Late that day, the good news came.