by Hunt, James
“Nolan,” Mary said, forcing herself not to smile. “You can’t make jokes.”
“Why not? Laughter is the most powerful medicine. And it makes me feel in control over something I can’t change.”
“Your right,” Mary said. “I’m sorry.” She held up a finger in the way that all mothers did whenever they wanted to ensure their point was understood. “But you’re also old, and a doctor, so you’re a bit of a know-it-all, so don’t forget that you can ask for help.” She tilted her head to the side. “Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Nolan grimaced from a pain in his abdomen. He clutched his stomach, rubbing the point of contention. His first thought, as with any sudden outbreak of pain that he felt throughout his body, was that it was due to the cancer slowly eating his insides, and he wondered if there was anything worse than rotting from the inside out.
But the rumbling in his stomach stopped and he remembered that he didn’t have anything to eat this morning. Hell, he hadn’t had anything to eat since yesterday.
“You all right?” Mary asked.
“Yeah.” Nolan patted his stomach and laughed. “Just hungry.”
“Are you scared?” Mary asked.
Nolan raised his eyebrows. “Of dying?”
Mary nodded.
Nolan considered his answer. The truth was he hadn’t really given himself time to think about the afterworld and what came next. He had been busy with work, and then after the EMP was detonated, he had been in a constant state of duress that hadn’t allowed much time for reflection.
“I don’t know,” Nolan finally said. “I think I might be more scared of the pain that comes right before I die. I’ve seen this disease before. I’ve seen what it can do, and the havoc it wreaks on the body.” He glanced down to his person and then cleared his throat. “Like what it’s doing to me right now, at this very moment. Slowly eroding what still works. Which isn’t much to begin with.” He rubbed his eyes and chuckled. “I’ve never been a religious man, never thought that there was a higher power at work, but… He dropped his hands and readjusted his glasses, smiling at Mary, who was hanging onto his every word. “I guess I just thought I’d have some kind of epiphany by now, something that would lead me toward a better understanding of what was possible.”
“Nolan, I don’t want to be rude, or intruding, but…” Mary fidgeted anxiously in her bed, then cleared her throat and spoke with more confidence. “I wanted to ask if I could say the Lord’s Prayer with you?”
Nolan had never been someone who had believed in God, but sitting in the bunker, holding Mary’s hand, he found himself wanting to find Him and was glad for the help.
“I would like that,” Nolan said.
Nolan sat quietly and patiently as Mary took his hand. The pair closed their eyes. Mary asked the Lord to watch over him, to keep the pain at bay for as long as possible, and to accept him into His arms when the time came for him to be called home.
When Mary finished, she kissed Nolan’s hand, and when Nolan opened his eyes, he felt a single tear on his cheek. It was unexpected, and he wiped it away quickly.
“Thank you,” Nolan said. “That was… more than I deserved.”
“You’re a good man,” Mary said. “And He’ll remember that when you’re called home again.”
“I hope so,” Nolan said.
The pair lingered in silence for a moment, Nolan still basking in the glow of prayer, when one of the townspeople came over and interrupted the peaceful silence.
“I was wondering if you know when they’ll be back?”
Nolan shook his head. “I’m not sure. I bet it won’t be long though.”
Another person came over, expressing the same concern, and before Nolan realized, there were a dozen people around him asking questions, all of them concerned.
Eventually Nolan was forced to stand, raising his arms and his voice as he shouted above the crowd. “Everyone, please!”
The crowd finally quieted down, and Nolan lowered his hands, the eyes staring back at him so focused and intense that he thought they were going to drill holes right through his soul.
“I don’t know when they’re coming back,” Nolan said. “We’re all dealing with a lot of uncertainties right now, but the most important thing is to stick together and not to go down all of the rabbit holes of what if’s and—” Nolan stopped, his mind suddenly pulsing, and he shut his eyes. He swallowed, trying to shake off the pain. His body broke out into a cold sweat and when he opened his eyes again, the people in front of him were staring at him like something was wrong, but Nolan tried to push through. “What’s important is…” he staggered, and a pair of hands steadied him.
Lightheaded, Nolan sat down. The lights, the people, the sound, all of it blurred together, and he raised his fingers to touch something warm on his upper lip. When he examined the tip of his finger, he saw blood, and then he passed out.
The sun reached its highest point in the sky, and with the trench at the halfway mark toward the river, Jake decided that it was time for lunch.
“Okay, everyone,” Jake said. “Go ahead and pick up your shovels, and we’ll walk back toward the bunker and have ourselves some food.”
A mixture of relief and complaints were whispered between breaths as everyone collected their gear and started the long trek back toward the bunker.
Jake was beginning to understand what his father was trying to tell him about people. Not everyone had the ability to push through the pain and fatigue.
“Gah.” Jake stopped, lurching forward, and he clutched his chest. He shut his eyes, and two cold spots formed in each of his cheeks. The pain grew so intense that Jake’s entire body felt like it was hollow, and if even the slightest breeze was blown his way then he would dissolve like a pile of dust.
“Hey, you all right?”
Jake didn’t look up to see who it was, but he held up his hand. “Just catching my breath. I’ll meet up with you.” There was no follow up and when Jake finally lifted his head, he saw that the group was well ahead of him.
Slowly, Jake forced himself to take a step, and it required every amount of effort and strength that he had. But he wasn’t going to give into his illness. He wasn’t going to become a burden to his family. There was still too much to do, and Jake knew that if he couldn’t carry his own weight, then there wouldn’t be anyone else that could do it for him.
Jake straightened up and walked. And while every step seemed to add another twenty pounds of pressure to his chest, he didn’t stop.
By the time he made it to the bunker, he saw a cluster of people around the top. Starting to become dazed and delirious himself, Jake frowned, wondering what could have been so important.
Jake stumbled left, then collapsed into the dirt. The pressure in his chest kept him pinned down.
On his back, Jake squinted his eyes as he looked up into the sky. He heard mumbled shouts, and it didn’t take long before he saw faces above him and felt himself being picked up and carried.
Jake had wanted to try and help, and he wanted to tell them that he could do it himself, but the words wouldn’t form on his tongue. It was suddenly becoming harder to breathe, harder to hear, harder to see, and the light blue sky slowly faded to black.
41
Zi kept her distance from the father and son, who she and Luis learned were Terry and Mark. She hung back while Luis spoke to Terry, Mark leading the pack. She hated that Luis’s words lingered in her mind, because it only worsened the guilt. But the longer she flipped them over, the more she realized that he was right and she was wrong.
Fear was getting the best of her, and Zi vowed a long time ago to never let fear control her life. It had done that too much already.
“That’s what you’re looking for, right?” Terry pointed toward the campers, his son in tow, who sprinted ahead of them. “Well, there they are.”
Zi nudged Luis with her elbow. “I thought you said they’re in good condition?”
“Well,” Luis said, struggl
ing to find a silver lining. “You haven’t seen the inside yet.”
The group walked toward the dilapidated structures, and Mark dove into one of the campers. Zi and Luis poked their heads inside and found him jumping up and down on an old mattress that was covered in stains and dirt.
“Yeah,” Zi said. “It’s much better on the inside.”
“We can fix them up,” Luis said. “I’m handier than I look.” He stepped closer, the space between them growing more intimate. “I recognize that this isn’t the ideal situation. But people are going to have to make do with what we’re giving them. It’s not like we have a lot of options right now.”
Zi shifted her weight from side to side, her hips rocking back and forth, and she tossed her hands up in the air and shook her head. “I mean is this it now? Is this what everyone has to look forward to?” She shut her eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to regain her composure, but it wasn’t until Luis placed his hand on her cheek that she finally relaxed.
“We’ll have things to look forward to again one day,” Luis said.
Zi smiled sadly. “Not everyone thinks the way you do. Not everyone tries to make things better. Just look at the people who did this. You can’t just wish for evil to go away.”
“No,” Luis said. “But that doesn’t mean we give up hoping for a better world. And it won’t make me stop trying to build one.” He stepped back, giving her some room.
Zi watched him head back over to the trailers, where he started walking through them with Terry and Mark. She admired him. She really did. And while his words were meant to make her feel better, she just couldn’t get herself over that emotional hump.
Maybe it was because of how hard she’d fought to get out of those bad neighborhoods that she grew up in. It was an uphill battle, all the way, and her family didn’t make it any easier.
Zi never wanted to live like that. She never wanted to be that person, it was the reason why she had decided to become a nurse, because she wanted to help people that were in a bad situation and put them on the road to recovery. And now the world had changed, but it still needed help.
Zi rejoined Luis and the others at the front of one of the campers. It was the smallest one, maybe big enough for two so long as the pair living together didn’t mind sleeping on top of one another. “So how are we going to pull them up front?”
“We won’t have to.” Luis stood up after examining one of the hitches, then pointed around the bend of one of the trash piles. “There’s an old access point that I can pull the truck around and load it using winches and pulleys. Piece of cake.” He grinned, his teeth surprisingly white against his dark tan and thick spread of stubble that ran down to his Adam’s apple.
It gave him a more rugged look, and while Zi had never imagined herself with a cowboy, she was beginning to warm to the idea.
“I’ll go pull it around,” Luis said, already walking away. “Why don’t you go with Terry and Mark. He’ll need some help opening the back door.”
Before she answered, Luis had already disappeared down one of the paths and Mark was tugging at her hand, smiling up at her as he pulled her down the path past the campers and the other junk that acted as the little boy’s home.
The “hidden access point” that Terry had told them about was about as accessible as a locked door. What used to be another entrance point to the junkyard had been chained over with fencing. They found some bolt cutters and started opening the space up.
Because the original space was wide enough to have trucks dump off large pieces of cargo, Luis was able to back the vehicle up and into the junkyard. It took some time and a lot of turns at the hand crank for the winch, but they managed to fit all but two of the campers in the trailer.
“Good work,” Luis said, giving Mark a high five, and then faked that the boy had hit his hand so hard that he’d hurt him. “Ow, easy, Tex. No need to get rough with me.”
Mark smiled, and seeing the boy smile made Zi smile too. Finished, Zi knew that Luis was going to invite the pair back to the ranch, and Zi wanted to extend the offer herself. “Listen, I know that—"
“It was really nice meeting both of you.” Terry lunged forward, shaking Zi’s hand quickly and then shaking Luis’s hand. He grabbed his boy’s arm and started to pull him away. “Say goodbye, Mark.”
Confused by the sudden change in behavior, Zi tossed a look to Luis, who raised his hands in the same stupor that Zi was in. She broke into a jog, cutting Terry off before he disappeared farther into the junkyard. “Wait, we wanted—”
“No,” Terry said, immediately waving his hands and trying to step around Zi. “I know what you’re going to say, and it’s best that we don’t get involved.” He glanced down at his son. “C’mon, Mark.”
“But you don’t have to stay here,” Zi said. “We want you to come back to the ranch.”
Terry spun around and became aggressive. “You mean the same ranch that you said was nearly blown off the map? The same ranch that doesn’t have enough shelter for the people that they already have? We don’t need that kind of trouble. Thank you, but no.” He started forward again to charge past Zi, but this time it was Mark who pulled his father back.
“Why can’t we go?” Mark asked.
“Not now,” Terry barked harshly at his son and then yanked him forward harder, but Mark stood his ground, squirming out from his father’s hold. “Mark!”
“No!” Mark screamed, tears in his eyes as he moved away from his father, backtracking toward the trailer. “I don’t want to stay here with you! I don’t want to be here anymore! I want to leave! I want to go!” He screamed the last note and then sprinted away from everyone. Away from his father, away from the trailer, away from having to stand to face a final decision.
Terry started after him, but Luis held up a hand and jogged to follow instead. The old homeless man stumbled forward a few steps after both of them were out of sight, and then stopped. He hung his head and his shoulders slumped.
Zi watched him stand there for a long time, so many questions running through her head, and unsure of where she should start, or if she should begin at all.
Finally, Terry turned, his cheeks wet from the tears that poured down his face. He wiped at his eyes, but it only smeared dirt around on his cheek. “Just go.”
Zi recognized that brokenness in him, the same brokenness that she had felt for most of her life. “It’s okay.” She moved toward him slowly, even when he shook his head and sobbed harder. “You don’t have to stay here alone. I know that you think you do, but you don’t have to. This isn’t the life that you want for yourself, and this isn’t the life that you want for Mark.”
“And what are we supposed to do?” Terry asked. “People don’t understand. They don’t forgive. I failed, and it’s a failure that I’ve never been able to overcome. All those people at your ranch? Those are the same faces I’ve seen all my life. The faces that toss me a glance and a quarter and tell me to go and get a job. The same faces that ask me how could I let my child live like this and tell me I should be ashamed for not being able to put a roof over my kid’s head.” He pounded his chest. “I give everything I have to my boy. I make sure that he never goes hungry, even if that means I do. I might not look like much, but I know that I’m a good father.”
Without a word, Zi reached for the old man’s hand and held it between both of her palms. She squeezed his hand. “Come with us.”
Luis returned with Mark, the little boy wiping his eyes, and then ran to his father, who scooped him up in his arms, the pair holding onto one another like they were the only two people in the world.
“I’m sorry,” Terry said.
“Me too,” Mark replied.
Zi looked past the father and son and to Luis. Things could get better, and for the first time in a long time, she knew that she was exactly where she needed to be to shape that future.
42
The temperature in James’s cage had risen steadily since he was locked away. He had no i
dea of how long he’d been away, but he’d shed most of his clothing, and after the amount of sweat that had been squeezed from his body, he was shocked to discover that more was coming out. Another hour and he’d be a raisin.
During his time under lock and key, James had made some discoveries about his imprisonment. He examined the floors, walls, and ceiling of his cage, and realized that it was the inside of an old shipping container. He could tell by the large boxed shape and the ribbed ceiling that was the trademark of those containers.
It had been refurbished a little bit, having a window cut out near the top with more rebar covering it so no one could escape. Although if they wanted to try, they’d have to be about as thin as a pencil to squeeze through it. At the rate James was losing water, he just might fit.
James suspected that was what most of the compound was made out of. He had heard of people using them to build houses, and they were usually cheap to purchase, stackable, and easy to transport. It was a smart idea.
But while James admired Banks’s ingenuity, he couldn’t help but laugh over the fact that the one time he’d been caught had been the one time where he had gone to seek help. He had escaped the clutches of evil, only to walk into a friend’s home and be locked up.
James shut his eyes and then flung more sweat from his face, the water quickly disappearing into the floor. He counted the seconds that it took for the water stain to completely disappear. It was so hot that even the concrete was thirsty.
James stood, forcing himself to move around to keep the blood flow moving even though all he wanted to do was lie down in a pool of his own sweat. He needed to stay awake. He needed to keep moving, keep engaged, keep thinking of any other way out of this than trying to break out. Because that really wasn’t an option. Or a last resort.
After pacing the small square room back and forth, sufficiently getting his blood pumping, which required less and less effort as his body grew more dehydrated, forcing his heart to work harder to pump his blood through to his extremities, James sat in the corner and leaned back against the wall, his shoulders rolling forward in exhaustion.