She held it out in front of her as an offering. “Come on, Spike. Here’s a big snowflake.” She pulled off a chunk with her now freezing fingers. She held it up for him to eat. When his mouth opened she popped it in.
Spike’s face glowed like a kid. Jayce had loved the snow when it came, but in Western Washington it always went away too soon. Lizzie wrapped her arms around Spike and hugged. Something hit her in the back. Snow. She turned to see Nev grinning at her, another snowball ready to fly.
Zach burst out of the truck and Nev threw it at him. Lizzie hurled what was left in her hands at Zach, too. She scooped more and threw one at Nev for retribution. Snow flew. Loud laughter sounded strange in the deadening soundscape of snow. Spike guffawed, sounding more hyena than human. Zach took refuge behind the truck near the snowbank.
Nev looked at Lizzie and gestured toward Zach.
Lizzie knew what she intended; they raced together, knocking into Zach and pushing him down into the snow. He came up stuttering and flinging snow wildly.
They all three sat for a moment watching. Spike capered and laughed. Zach pulled both of the girls toward him for a quick hug, but dumped snow on their heads.
Lizzie and Nev retaliated until Zach, laughing, held his hands up. “Stop. I give.”
Lizzie pushed herself to her feet off Zach.
“We better get warm and dry,” Nev suggested.
“Worry wart.” Lizzie tossed the last of the slush ball at Nev. She dug another ball of snow. “Come on, Spike.”
He turned, grinning. She jumped back toward the truck, holding the snow near the door. He lumbered toward her and bit at the snow, his drooling mouth barely missed her fingers. Nev climbed into the Tank. Lizzie tossed the snowball to her. “Come on, Spike. In the Tank. Get the snow.” She slapped her legs and he hopped up. Nev gave him the rest of the snow and Lizzie slammed the door.
“Nice work.” Zach hopped in, shifted the Tank into drive and it lurched forward. “Buckle up, buttercup.”
When they were off the cliff side, Zach sped up. The Tank skated into the ditch. “Shit!” It wasn’t deep and they didn’t tip. He swore and shoved it in park. “I’m done for tonight. We’ll sleep here. Glad we got sleeping bags. Tomorrow, when it’s light, I’ll try again.”
Lizzie sighed and climbed out and pulled the bags out of the topper. In a few minutes she was in a bag with Saj cradled in her arms. She listened to her voicemails and stared at the pictures and videos on her cell phone. I miss you Mama. You, too, Jayce. When she had finished, Nev and Zach were both asleep.
Zach woke chilled; he had grabbed the best bags, comfortable down to 0 degrees. But in the middle of the night he had shoved the sleeping bag down because it made him sweat. He pulled the zipper up toward his face and rubbed his arms with his hands. The windshield was covered with snow and everything was quiet. The Tank smelled of body odor, baby smells and Spike.
He took stock of the crew as he hunkered into the downy comfort of his sleeping bag. Everyone still slept. Nobody froze to death. Frozen plague survivors found dead from stupidity. Quite the headline. Except there were no more headlines, and not a lot of odds on people finding the dead. He shivered, remembering the near miss on the icy snow.
Last night he woke several times with his feet shoved down hard into the sleeping bag trying to find the brakes as he drove them off the cliff. Well, despite their stupidity they weren’t dead. Not yet.
Zach didn’t want to wake everyone, but he had to pee. He extricated himself from the sleeping bag and pulled on his new wet and cold hiking boots. He opened the door as quietly as possible, but Lizzie’s eyes opened. She looked at him, confused. “Gotta find a wood-pile,” he said and smiled a goofy smile. She nodded and closed her eyes.
He avoided frostbite on his extremities, but certainly got chilled. By the time he returned to the Tank everyone was awake.
After everyone had taken care of their business he drove the Tank to North Bend. He promised to cook a big hot breakfast at one of the mom and pop diners if everyone was quiet and let him focus on the road.
An hour later he set plates down in front of them at a ‘50s style place. One of the few clear memories of his grandmother had happened here. He remember a cheeseburger served in a cardboard ‘57 Chevy followed by a giant banana split that he shared with her and then everyone else at the table: Mom, Dad and Gramps.
His friends scarfed down the food with compliments to the chef. Zach basked in the praise.
Spike ate fries with a fork, stabbing them and shoving them into his mouth. Zach thought about telling him fries were for fingers, but it was good practice.
Zach found a gigantic carton of vanilla ice cream, freezer-burned, but only on top. He scraped it off and brought it to share, dishing up some to everyone.
Lizzie accepted the ice cream with a nod as she focused on the road atlas they’d picked up in Sedro.
When Zach looked at Nev she was watching him. A hint of humor played across her face. He smiled back.
He filled a bowl for himself and sat. Saj slapped his hands, now slippery white with ice cream, on the table. Zach chuckled. Saj had gotten rounder since the day they’d found him.
“So.” Lizzie spun the atlas around toward him. “We go south to Vancouver then across. Shouldn’t hit any high mountains until right before Salt Lake. By then we can figure how to handle the snow.”
Zach nodded. “We’ll find some chains.”
“Okay.” Lizzie closed the atlas. “Let’s head for the Columbia River.”
“All right. I’m going clean up back there. Anybody wanna help?”
“Why clean up?” Lizzie stood, ready to hit the road.
“Cause it’s a little bit of home.” He headed back to the kitchen. And I can keep it like it is in my memories.
“I’ll help.” Nev followed him.
“Hey,” Lizzie called after them, “I’m not against it. Just asking.” She headed outside with Saj toddling behind and Spike bringing up the rear.
“Thanks, Zach.” Nev put her hand on his arm. “For breakfast. For driving last night.”
“For not killing you, you mean?” He laughed.
“Yeah. Thanks for not killing me. Us.” Nev leaned up and kissed him gently on the lips. Her lips were firmer than Lizzie’s, but still soft and warm. For a moment all his troubles melted, dripping away like the ice cream on Saj’s face. His hands moved to her hips, his heart racing.
Nev pulled away, looking as surprised as he felt. She turned in a circle and then started washing dishes. Zach picked up the metal spatula and messed with scraping the flat steel grill, trying to figure out what the kiss meant. Was it a friend-kiss or a girlfriend-kiss? Things with Lizzie had gone too fast and ended badly. He was pretty sure he had a chance for something better with Nev, but he didn’t want to make a wrong move.
18
MANNIE WOKE THE NEXT MORNING uncertain if he had dreamed. Outside it was still pitch dark, but the habit of getting up early for work or war didn’t change even if the world had. He jumped into a hot, hot shower.
Coffee and yogurt with Grape Nuts stood in for breakfast while he went through the series of texts from Lizzie. They included extra phone numbers for Lizzie, a paranoid tactic after his own heart, and her friend Jess’ number. He copied them down on a piece of paper and put it in his wallet. Then he copied them down again and tucked the paper inside the lining of his Smokey the Bear hat. He put on his olive drab work pants and the heavy gray khaki shirt. Something about being in uniform made him feel more solid. And if he was going to requisition a government Jeep, he better look like he was supposed to be driving it.
He refolded the maps and replaced them in the glove box. He picked up the double burner camp stove and a three-pack of camping gas, then put them back down. A sleeping bag went in the back of the truck in case he ended up sleeping in-between towns. But he would always be near towns. The cautious camper took over. He put the stove and gas in and added his one-man tent. He packed the rest of th
e Coke, a frozen loaf of bread, a pack of lunch meat, a baggie of fast food condiments, and a handful of water bottles from the fridge. The coffee went in a to-go mug.
Mannie found himself whistling; he couldn’t remember doing that in years. A new life. A new shot anyway. A shudder rippled through him as he thought about leaving Bellingham and his daughter. He’d made it to the next bar, drinking himself into a stupor and waking up in the drunk tank. After he got out he managed to hold off of the drink while he drove home. To his parents’ here in Texas. This trip might reverse some of those years. Maybe.
He was ready to say goodbye. His heart felt a jab of pain as he took a last look around the living room. There was the worn place on the couch he and Isabel had spent weekends reading, napping, watching movies and the other things couples did together. At its foot was the dark spot on the rug where Isabel’s black cat, Sheba, used to sleep. The cat had run off after Isabel died. Probably become coyote food. He shook off the ghosts.
What if Lizzie couldn’t stand him? Wouldn’t forgive him? He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. No. I can’t think that. Isabel would have said something about letting fear have control. Elizabeth is counting on me. He opened his eyes and went out, closing the door without locking it.
The old truck grumbled to life. The sun rose beautiful over the distant horizon, dawning a new day. The morning star had not yet winked out as he left the rocky gravel of the driveway and the wheels quieted on the pavement to town. First, the ranger station, then provisions in Del Rio and head north.
The station looked like a normal morning. He could almost expect everyone would be in later. Since he’d stopped drinking he’d become that morning guy, always the first one there to unlock things. If he was in uniform he didn’t drink, so getting dressed for work helped him stay sober.
His right knee ached as he stepped down. He’d blown it out in the mountains a few years ago and though it worked, it ached when the weather changed or when he abused it. The pain served as a nagging reminder of his lack of invincibility.
He lifted the keys to ‘his’ vehicle, Rubi, off the rack. It bugged him when the station bought the big Jeep Rubicon. It was a big expense on the taxpayers dime, and overkill for the job needed. But over a decade she became a partner to him. She was showing her age and would’ve sold at auction last year if he hadn’t fussed.
In the garage he crossed to Rubi, tossed his backpack into the passenger seat and transferred the rest of his gear to the way back. He heaved a case of MREs, Meals Ready to Eat, and a first aid kit for ‘just in case’ cases in the back seat. From the gun safe, he took out a Sig p220 pistol and holster, a Remington 870 shotgun and shoulder case, a couple boxes of ammo and a cleaning kit. He wrote a sticky note listing what he’d taken and their serial numbers before signing it. He closed and locked the safe. The world might really be headed to Hell in a hand basket this time, but he would follow protocol—the one thing the military had taught him. He printed his full name, Department of Defense ID and cell numbers, then signed it.
Mannie headed into Del Rio. The ache in his knee subsided as usual, though he knew the long drive would be problematic. He’d need stops to walk and stretch.
On the ride to Seattle, Zach’s brain flitted from thought to thought: the kiss with Nev, the one with Lizzie, the responsibility of Saj and Spike. Nev had switched seats with Liz. She smiled sideways at him, flipping through stations to find tunes she wanted to hear: Fitz and the Tantrums, Muse and the Foo Fighters.
They crossed Lake Washington on I-90 and headed toward the Space Needle.
Lizzie popped her head over the front seat. “I don’t want to go into the city.”
“What the hell, Lizzie,” Zach asked. But she had that look on her face. “You agreed.”
“Under duress.”
“Shit, Lizzie. You been watching reruns of Law and Order? Under duress?”
“Stop the Tank, Zach.”
“What?”
Lizzie shoved her door open. “Stop. I’m getting out.”
Zach engaged the brakes and the giant SUV slowed. When the ground wasn’t moving too fast Lizzie jumped out and back, stumbling to catch her footing. Then she strode past where the Tank had come to rest.
Zach hopped down and slammed the door. “Lizzie?” he called after her.
Ahead Seattle lay partially enshrouded in fog. Lizzie kept walking down the freeway.
Zach opened the driver’s door and stuck his head in. “You want to talk to her?”
Nev shook her head.
Zach sighed and shut the door more gently this time. “Hey, Lizzie. Wait for me.” So he was going to try to convince the crazy girl not to be crazy. He jogged after her. “Can we talk about it?”
“Take the exit. Go see what’s going on. You’ll catch up.”
“Do you realize how crazy that sounds?” He hustled ahead and walked backwards in front of her. “Lizzie, we’re not moving in. We want to know what’s going on. Maybe we need something these people have. What if the pandemic has returned?”
“What if, what if, what if.” Lizzie glared at him and pushed him aside. “There’s no what if. My dad’s alive and I’m going to get where he’s at.”
Zach walked beside her. “Yes, Lizzie. And we’re going into the city for a little while. Scouting, call it. I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave you walking through Seattle.”
“Why? What’s going to get me? Everybody’s dead.”
“Not everybody.”
There was a rumble behind them. Lizzie spun, but not as fast as Zach.
“Oh, shit, Nev,” Zach muttered, “Thought you couldn’t drive.”
“She’s going pretty slow.”
The Tank rolled toward them. “Come on, Lizzie,” Zach pleaded, “An hour? Give us an hour?” He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him. He stared into her eyes. For once let me be more stubborn than you.
Lizzie jerked her arm out of his grasp. “You better go help Nev drive that beast.”
“Lizzie?”
“Yeah. An hour.” She walked toward the Tank. “Then we hit the road.”
“Thanks.” Zach ran on ahead. The Tank ground to a halt.
“Not bad,” he told Nev as she slid across to the passenger seat.
“I got tired of waiting for you to quit fighting again.”
Lizzie hopped in the back, but stared out over Seattle.
So be it. Zach took the Convention Center exit and followed the signs.
Inside they found an exhausted city councilman sitting at a table as people filtered by. He didn’t know anything. Zach wasn’t sure if the city badge on the man’s jacket was to keep people calm or impress them. Keep them calm, Zach decided. There was no glory in this job. The people milling around the check-in station seemed to cling to this evidence that structure remained like a drowning man clings to a life vest.
“Please, sign your names, give us your addresses.” The councilman glanced at the newcomers, his voice scratchy and monotonous. “Any special skills? Knowledge of medi—”
“Whoa.” Lizzie stopped him. “We’re on our way to Salt Lake.”
Zach watched Lizzie go into puffer fish mode—spiny all over. “Lizzie.” He put his hand on her arm; she shoved it off. Whatever.
“We just stopped for information.”
“Miss, please.” The councilman sighed deeply and drank a slug of coffee out of a ceramic Starbucks cup. He continued, his voice still pleasant, “I’m Devin Miller. We’re not trying to keep you. We want to know who’s alive and get contact information—to try to make some order out of this mess. We need to help each other if we are going to survive this tragic occurrence.” He recited it like a prepared speech.
“And how could you help us?” Lizzie arched an eyebrow.
Finally Mr. Miller broke from his politeness, “Frankly, Miss. I don’t know if I can. Either fill it out or don’t.” He handed them each a quarter sheet of paper with contact information for the City of Seattle.
&
nbsp; Lizzie deflated. When she spoke again, her voice sounded small like a scared girl, “How many people survived?”
Her tone shook Zac. He preferred the puffer fish. Lizzie had always been the tough one. Now he realized how much he relied on that toughness to keep himself stable.
“About 40,000 in the greater Seattle area. But we don’t know how many of those are healthy and mentally stable. A lot of the people who got sick and recovered can’t seem to care for themselves. We’re temporarily housing them in the Key Arena. So far we’ve been able to keep them fed, but clean... that’s another thing.”
“Yeah, it’s a challenge.” Lizzie motioned to Spike standing awkward next to Nev. “This is Spike. Our Dog-man”
Zach watched in amazement as Lizzie shifted into helpful-adult-mode. That was a new one for Lizzie.
“We’ve been working with him and, well, it’s like training a dog.” Lizzie patted Spike’s shoulder. “But he’s learning a lot.”
“Hhhmmm… Dog-man.” Miller looked at Spike, clean and docile today, with hope in his eyes. “So, do you want to sign in? If you decide to stay, we have student housing open over at U.W.”
Zach took the pen. “I’ll sign. I don’t bring a lot of skills to the table. I can shovel manure!”
“And you cook,” Liz added.
“My food ain’t half bad when you’re starving.”
“It’s good. And I’m not starving.” Nev squeezed his shoulder, and signed one herself. “If we stayed I could finally get into U.W.”
“Yeah,” Lizzie said, “but we aren’t staying. Still a lot of miles between here and Salt Lake.”
The councilman’s eyes narrowed. “You’re headed south? Watch out in Tacoma.”
“You heard anything about any new outbreaks?” Zach asked.
Miller shook his head. “What’s left of U.W. Medical Center says we’re safe.”
“Rumors going round about a second wave,” Zach said.
Miller shrugged. “Lots of rumors.”
Lizzie’s phone rang. A sinister guitar riff ringtone echoed.
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