ALL IS SILENCE

by Robert L. Slater

  They got sweats and slip off pants they thought would fit Spike and grabbed a pile of jeans and work gear for themselves and Zach. They got bigger clothes for Saj at Gapkids.

  “We should get winter stuff: gloves, hats, mittens.” Nev grabbed knitted stuff off a rack. “Last winter I didn’t make it the one time I tried to go home. Icy roads.”

  Lizzie saw a darkness in Nev’s eyes when she said ‘home.’ “Nev. I’ve been a horrible friend. I haven’t asked you about your family, your life. What happened?”

  “Shit, Lizzie. Your family died, you almost got raped, you killed a guy. You’ve been a little preoccupied. ‘sides. I don’t wanna talk about it. My family is dead. I wasn’t there.”

  Nev was the one who took care of people. It was easy to forget she sometimes needed taking care of, too. Lizzie hugged her, squeezing extra tight. She didn’t know what else to do.

  Nev held her for a moment and then let go. “And I’ve got my two oldest friends back. It might be a tiny silver lining, but it’s pretty amazing to me.”

  “Yeah. It is.”

  They found Zach playing with Saj on the carpet near the video games. Lizzie tried to sneak up on them, but Zach spotted her.

  “Look, Saj, it’s Sissie and Nev,” Zach said.

  The little munchkin toddled toward Lizzie as fast as his legs could carry him. She knelt, grabbed him by the armpits and spun him up in the air in a broad arc. His breath sucked in and his eyes glowed. When she set him down, he jumped up without his feet leaving the ground.

  Zach broke up laughing.

  Nev smiled, too. “Pretty much the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Again?” Lizzie asked. “Again?”

  Saj bounced with all his energy. He could fly if his body would obey.

  “Okay. Sissie make you fly again.” Someone had made her fly when she was small. She grabbed him and spun him around sideways, rising and falling, spinning dizzy until his little shape threatened to pull out of her grip. Then she sat him down and stumbled to the floor herself, collapsing, her center of balance off. He fell into her arms and she held him tight.

  Zach had deciphered the film projector, admitting that all you had to do was get things turned on and push play—like Internet streaming. They got refills on popcorn, frozen ice cream bars and chocolate-covered raisins.

  The newest saga about the children of Han and Leia failed to distract Lizzie. Her mind kept going back over her life without her father. She had nothing to pull up. She should have remembered something, but she’d walked herself through this forever. All that she had was an image of him from his music and movies. It was the image of a Hispanic version of Judd Nelson. Not very original. She fantasized he would come back and take her away. She’d only wished for him in the worst times, and he’d never come. Or called. Until now. And that was because she had called him first. Well, these were the worst of times.

  Lizzie sat alone on the bed in the master bedroom. She’d decided to make the call alone. She battled herself about what to say. “Why the hell did you never call me?” or “Fuck you.”

  “Come save me, Father,” she said aloud, then laughed at herself and flopped back onto the bed. The ceiling fan spun. She let her eyes follow it for a minute. Then she sat up and deliberately pressed the numbers.

  The phone rang on the other end, several times. Then “Lizzie?”

  “Yes. It’s me, Daddy.” There, that was that. She didn’t even know she would call him Daddy. But it slipped out and felt right.

  “Yes.” There was a pause. “I’m sorry.”

  Not ready to forgive him, yet, she listened to him breathe, wondering if he was doing the same. Finally she said, “I’m glad you’re alive.” Her voice came out as a shaky whisper.

  “Oh, god, Lizzie. It’s so amazing to hear your voice.” His voice cracked. “I wanted...”

  “Yah, me too.” She heard the touch of anger in her voice and breathed deep; it came out ragged. “Mama and Jayce are gone.”

  “I’m so sorry. She loved you very much. Jayce’s your little brother?”

  “Yeah. Jason. I basically raised him.”

  “Ah.”

  “Where are you?”

  He cleared his throat. “Del Rio, Texas, near Mexico.”

  “Near your family?”

  “Yeah. They were here.”

  There were questions Lizzie wanted to ask, “I have some people here with me. Two of my best friends... We all survived.”

  “Wow. That’s amazing.”

  “It is. I feel lucky. It’s strange. A bunch of us survived; we were all on a trip to Honduras a few years ago. Did you ever go there?”

  She heard him chuckle, but it sounded sad.

  “No. I didn’t travel except places the military sent me. And away from people I shouldn’t have.” He paused and gave a long sigh. “Oh, Lizzie. I am so sorry. For everything. I missed everything. There is no excuse. And I know you must hate me....”

  “Yeah. But, not always. I prayed you would come take me away.”

  “And now?” he asked.

  It was an impossible question. How did she feel about him now? Even she wasn’t sure of the answer, so she didn’t give one.

  They sat, silence stretching the phone connection.

  Change the subject. Lizzie began again. “I don’t know what you do. Did do.”

  “I worked at the Amistad Reservoir for the Park Service after… After I left you.” He went silent.

  “You don’t have to explain.” It was a lie. But she wanted it to be true. She wanted a relationship with a dad with no baggage, a clean slate. Too bad. Want in one hand… Lizzie had heard the explanation all her life. “Mom said it was drugs and drinking. You left because you couldn’t leave the war behind and have a normal family life.”

  There was another long silence before her father answered. “Is that what she told you?”

  “Yeah. Not what happened?” Lizzie asked.

  “There are always at least two points of view in any relationship,” he said, evading the question. “Someday, I’ll tell you my side. But not today. And not on the phone. Doesn’t really matter now. At Amistad I’m— I was a fish & game guy, kind of like I was in Washington before you were born. But here I was a manager, kept fish stocked for sports fishermen. Not a lot of need anymore.”

  “Dad?” The word Dad still sounded strange in her mouth. “Do you want me to call you something else?”

  “No. Dad is lovely.”

  Lizzie wondered how she could sit here, talking on the phone as if they had a relationship. She wanted one. And he was the only real family she had left. “How long does it take to get to Texas?”

  “If you’ve got two drivers and you drive through the night only about two days, but really, with one driver, probably at least a week.”

  I could be talking to him in person in a week! Then old tapes reasserted themselves. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s a bad idea.”

  “There is some mighty pretty country between here and there.” His voice sounded positive.

  Lizzie sat up. “We could meet in the middle. I’d like a road trip.”

  “Whoa. No. You stay in Bellingham. I’ll come to you.”

  “I need to get out of Bellingham.” Lizzie wanted to tell him about everything that had happened. But not tonight.

  “We have no idea how safe the roads are, what conditions. How long have you been driving?”

  “I’m learning. I’ll bring my friends. Zach’s a great driver.”

  “You don’t know how to drive?” His tone of voice had darkened. “The roads might not be—”

  “But everybody’s dead. It’s a great time to learn to drive. What’s half-way?”

  “Salt Lake City, but honey. Eliza— Uh, Lizzie—”

  “Honey is fine. Or Lizzie. But you can call me Elizabeth, too. If you want to.”

  “I’d like that. Elizabeth, a cross-country trip under normal conditions is no picnic.”

  “Please, Daddy?” Lizzi
e heard her voice. What am I asking his permission for?

  “Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

  “As long as you help me figure out how to do it.”

  His breath escaped like he’d given up fighting about it. “Okay. We need to have a plan.”

  “Oh, and Daddy, I have a friend, Jess, in San Angelo. Used to live in Bellingham. Can you bring her up here? Her family’s all dead.”

  “Yes. We still need a plan.”

  “We’ll have one. Thanks, Daddy. G’night.”

  “Goodnight, Elizabeth.”

  Lizzie sat there in the dark. She hadn’t noticed the room getting darker. Through the skylight, she could see the first stars of the night coming out. An evening star, one of the planets, sparkled brighter than the others. In the big picture window, the waxing moon peeked over the mountains over the lake. It looked like a cold night. She lay there, basking in the warmth of a direction, a new focus in life, a reason to be.

  She pulled out her phone and punched in Jess’ number.

  It rang once and then Jess picked up, “Lizzie? What time is it?”

  “I don’t know. Did you make it into town?”

  “Yeah,” Jess sighed. “Found some people. It’s okay.”

  “You want to come to Bellingham?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  “Well, listen to you Miss Suddenly Profane.”

  “Ef you,” Jess laughed. “How?”

  “My dad. He’s alive. In Texas. He’s going to pick you up.”

  “Oh, my god. You’re not kidding?”

  Lizzie smiled listening to Jess gush, a rare occurrence in all their years together. “No. I’m not.”

  “Yes. Please. When?”

  “Soon. I’ll give him your number.”

  “Oh, Lizzie. I can’t wait to see you.”

  “Me, too. See you, that is. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Yeah. Aren’t you glad you didn’t kill yourself?”

  “Yeah. Good night, Jess.” There was a tap on the door. “Yes?” The phone connection ended.

  “It’s Zach. Can I come in?”

  “Yeah.” The huskiness in her voice startled her.

  Zach came in, shutting the door softly behind him. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Lizzie could see a thousand questions in his eyes. She didn’t have that many answers. “We’re going on a road trip.”

  Untitled

  You Can Sleep While I Drive

  16

  MANNIE REPLACED THE HANDSET IN its cradle. His heart was higher than he ever remembered. Even higher than the day she had been born. He jumped out of his chair, opened the front door and hollered out into the starry Texas night, “My daughter’s alive!”

  He pulled out the old road maps from the glove box of his truck and carried them into the kitchen table. Mannie needed Rubi, the Jeep Rubicon he drove for his work with the Forest Service. He trusted her in any conditions. And if he headed to Salt Lake City, there’d be a variety of conditions. He would have to go back to the Ranger Station.

  His zombified existence since Isabel died, eating, sleeping and reading, was over. She’d been dead for less than a month, but it seemed like half a lifetime already. Now Mannie was awake again. And ready to go.

  He spread out the maps. The Internet had been down for weeks in Del Rio, so he would have to rely on the paper version. He realized he was lucky his cell phone still worked. What if I had missed her call?

  Rubi had GPS, but it was fritzy. It hadn’t taken to the automatic updates for a year and sometimes went dead. The route to Salt Lake wasn’t complicated: head northwest and drive. First he needed to get to San Angelo, three hours from Del Rio, to pick up Lizzie’s friend, Jess. It was a university town and a military intelligence training center during the Gulf Wars. Mannie had never been there, but figured it wouldn’t add much time to the trip. And it would make Lizzie happy.

  After San Angelo it was I-87 through Big Spring and up to Brownfield, across to Roswell, then Albuquerque. He wondered how many of Albuquerque’s million people were left.

  Near Durango there might be snow. Mannie had been up in those mountains before. Might get tricky. He should hit the road tomorrow to get through the pass before weather got worse.

  Elizabeth hadn’t sent her friend Jess’ number yet. He needed to make sure she was in San Angelo, not just somewhere near. Why had he agreed to let her come south? And that he’d go pick up her friend? Guilt. And a genuine desire. He wanted to try to help her be happy.

  His stomach growled. He often skipped dinner with no one else around and now it was time to hit the sack, a long day, but worth staying up for.

  Mannie found a can of baked beans in the fridge, though he didn’t remember when he’d opened it. No mold and it didn’t smell. Mannie heated it in a pan on the gas range. The can said, “Best if used by 2023.” He suspected it should be edible for some time after that. He smiled, yesterday he wasn’t thinking about the future.

  He felt like celebrating. He eyed the box high on a shelf, tucked away for a rainy day. It wasn't good to keep a bottle of whiskey around when you were a recovering alcoholic. It was damn tempting every day, especially on a day like today when he had something to celebrate. Part of him kept it because it was old and expensive and he couldn't stand to waste it. Another part of him kept it to challenge himself. I dare you to drink it, you worthless shit, he would think whenever he caught himself looking at it. Go on. Show everyone what a loser you really are. It was a way to keep himself honest. If he wasn't strong enough to say no....” He stood on a chair and lifted the box down.

  The antiqued wooden box had been a gift from an old friend. “Keep something good in it, that’s all I ask.” Well, this was good. He opened the clasp and withdrew the russet golden bottle and set it back up on the shelf. He would put something else ‘good’ in it when he packed. He popped the top on a cold Coke, enjoying the fizz and then first taste as it burned his throat.

  Mannie dumped his dresser drawers out on the bed and packed the essentials, planning for cold weather. Living in Texas, he didn’t have a lot of cold weather gear. Maybe he’d do some shopping once he reached Albuquerque.

  Isabel’s photo stared at him from the dresser. He counted on her for stability, her love had seen him through some desperate times. He should have married her like she wanted, but now she was gone.

  The past was dead now. No need to keep souvenirs, but he grabbed it anyway and stuffed it in his rucksack with the clothes. In the years since he’d left Washington State, he’d learned to travel light and leave things behind.

  He set his bags by the door and went for a walk outside to clear his head. The night was crystal clear and shirt-sleeve weather. He focused on the first star that caught his eye. “Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight.” It was a silly children’s rhyme, but it was one of the things he remembered doing with Elizabeth as a child. He sometimes thought about her looking at the same sky—doubly foolish since Bellingham was two hours behind him and under a thick blanket of clouds most of the time.

  Mannie scanned the sky. He had seen no airplanes for the last month, but he spotted a satellite. At least those would keep going for a while, maybe longer than the cell towers. But how much good would it do the survivors, and how long could satellites last without humans operating them? More importantly, who was in control of those satellites now? Or military facilities or missile silos? Before he knew his daughter was out there he had been content to let the world go to Hell. Now he couldn’t.

  Lizzie woke wired. Last night she talked Zach into the trip. He didn't want to go, he wanted to stay and join the hippies. But Lizzie knew if she convinced him she was going, he wouldn't let her go alone. Nev insisted on coming, too. They discussed leaving Spike, but he’d become a member of the family and the potty-training was going well. The warning pops of flatulence preceded an explosion. And they still changed Saj’s diapers, so it hardly seemed fair.

  Despite her complaints about gigantic
vehicles like Ford Expeditions, Hummers and Escalades, Lizzie let Zach talk her into taking the Tank. Her biggest issue was the damn thing got like five gallons to the mile in fuel economy. But there had to be a hell of a lot of gas out there with no cars on the road. All the other things she hated about them: high ride, over-powered, huge, four-wheel drive, were actually benefits for a cross-country route that would take them over mountains, desert and who knew what else. But she was still going to tease him about compensating.

  Zach had found a trailer with a locking tool chest and a few empty gas cans. That along with the topper should allow them to scavenge as they went. He filled the tool chest with the new guns, ammo and a bunch of tools from the lake house garage.

  “All right.” Lizzie was restless. “Let’s go.” She locked the house and took the keys. It felt a little weird. What argument would they have if they came home and found it occupied by some other set of squatters? But now it was as much of a home as she had.

  On the way into town Zach stopped for gas. He came to the window as the pump churned. “I want to stop by the hippie commune before we leave.” Zach made eye contact with Lizzie. “Tell Vern our plans.”

  He looked at her like he wanted her to ask why.

  “Sure.” Lizzie rolled her eyes. If it made him happy, today she didn’t really care. She wanted to get on the road.

  Lizzie said. “I’m taking you guys to R.E.I. for some real shopping. Hiking gear.”

  “Since when are you a hiker?” Nev asked.

  “It was a phase with Chad. Spent most of my babysitting money on good used gear at thrift stores.”

  “Why do we need hiking gear?” Zach asked. “We can break into houses.”

  “Here on the west side maybe, but Eastern Washington?” Lizzie asked, “Idaho? Say we get in a wreck or something else happens to the Tank. Might be a long hike to some place to break into.”

  “Okay. That makes sense. I need…” He stopped.

  Lizzie watched his face as a strange expression passed across it.