ALL IS SILENCE

by Robert L. Slater

  Jess broke the long silence. “Doug was a jerk. Lizzie loved your music collection. We used to watch the ‘80s movies in your DVD collection.”

  Mannie wiped his eyes and crossed to the light switch. “Mind if I turn the light on?”

  “No.” Jess’ eyes were red and damp.

  He set his empty coffee cup by the sink. Then, remembering his manners, picked it back up and rinsed it. “Thanks for the food. Figured tomorrow we might make it to Albuquerque. About five, six hours on the road.”

  “Sounds good.”

  She stood awkwardly.

  “Well, I’m gonna find myself a room.”

  “Oh, I got you a key to the room across the hall.” Jess grinned. “Figured out the computer system all by myself.” She handed him a keycard.

  “Thanks.” When he turned to leave Jess jumped forward and hugged him tight. Her body shook and the tears from earlier turned into sobs. He held her close and ran his fingers gently through her hair. “Go ahead; cry it out.”

  “I never cried. Not when Grampa died. Nor Papa. Or Mamma.

  Her eyes were big and tear-filled. He found himself saying, “It’s all right…” Even though the words meant little.

  Eventually her body stopped shaking. She sniffed and gently shifted. Mannie released her and dug in his pockets for a handkerchief. But the hanky was bloody. He offered her the Dairy Queen napkin. She took it and noisily blew her nose.

  “Thanks, Mr.— Mannie. Lizzie’s lucky.”

  “Maybe. But I think I’m luckier. Didn’t think I’d get a second chance.” He held up the room key. “Thanks again. You got a time you want to leave?”

  “Not really. Been waking up early. I used to sleep in. But now, I wake with the light.”

  “Me, too. Good night.”

  “Good night, Mannie.”

  “Jess. It’s gonna be okay.”

  “I hope so.”

  He left the room and crossed the hallway. It’s gonna be okay. How did such flimsy words have the strength to keep people hanging on when things went completely to shit?

  Lizzie’s head nodded as the truck hit the endless bumps on the freeway south of Seattle. The last thing she saw as her head dropped against the seat was the row of planes sitting idle at Boeing Field.

  The squeal of brakes woke her abruptly.

  “Holy crap. Would you look at that?” Zach stared straight ahead.

  Lizzie followed his gaze. A couple of tigers, the size of small horses, padded patiently across the freeway. The Tank’s approach and its skidding stop had not disturbed them.

  Zach glanced back at Lizzie. “I guess that’s what the guy meant about watch out for Tacoma.”

  Lizzie watched the graceful cats cross into the median. “You think someone let out the big animals like we let out the pets?”

  “Looks like it.” Nev said.

  Lizzie yawned. “Let’s take that as a sign not to stop in Tacoma.”

  “Suits me.” Zach eased forward, passing the cats.

  Lizzie’s brain was still trying to wrap itself around how many people were left. “One percent,” she muttered, doing mental calculations. “I think there were about 100,000 in Bellingham, but I have no clue about the rest of Whatcom County. Which means, what… 1000 survivors? Total? In Bellingham?”

  Zach gave a low whistle.

  Nev gaped. “At Bellingham High School we had 950 students. That’s no more people left than fit in the gym.”

  Zach whistled and did his drum roll on the dashboard. “And how many are like our buddy, Spike, back there?” Spike’s head popped up. “Hey, Spike. We’re talking about you, aren’t we?”

  “I still don’t know what it means,” Lizzie said.

  “What do you mean, ‘what it means’?” Zach shook his head. “It means shit. It means the human race is pretty screwed.”

  “Or does it finally mean we’re not? No more population problems, a lot less cars on the road...”

  “I dunno,” Zach drawled. “I’m a hick from Sedro-Woolley. But I know India had more honor students last year than we had students!” He smiled.

  “You mean like, all of a sudden there is enough gas?” Nev smiled. “And enough water.”

  “And enough beer.” Zach laughed.

  Nev chuckled and dug a finger into his rib. “Course, I was hoping for a track scholarship and then a B.A. in B.S. There goes my chance to charm some rich guy into marrying me. Money isn’t worth what it used to be.”

  “But now a guy can shower you with diamonds after a quick trip to a jewelry store.” Zach winked at Nev and she blushed.

  Lizzie intentionally ignored them and continued her calculations. “40,000 people left in the Seattle area. How many people in the whole world? Before this, I mean.”

  “Over seven billion, I think.” Nev took up the calculation. “a billion is a one with nine zeroes, one percent of that is a one with seven zeroes, right? Ten million for every billion. Doesn’t really seem like we’re in that rough of a place. Not like extinction watch.”

  “What’re we going to do,” Zach asked, “once we connect with your dad and Jess?”

  Lizzie had no answer. “No idea. Where is it safe? Where do we find people we want to hang out with? Where do we want to go? Northwest Washington is a decent place. No tornados, hurricanes.”

  “We’ve got flooding,” Zach said.

  Lizzie nodded. “In the lowlands.”

  “And volcanos,” Nev said.

  Zach grinned. “In the highlands.”

  Lizzie pressed on. “But that didn’t stop any of us from living there before, right?”

  “We could drive across the country like nomads.” Zach tapped the dashboard gently. “I like this big hulking, gas-guzzling vehicle.”

  20

  MANNIE ROSE AND MADE COFFEE in the foolish little hotel coffee-maker still stocked with one decaf and one regular packet. Two cups later he had a driving plan from San Angelo to Roswell and then on to Albuquerque. He better find some chains. Rubi was pretty sure-footed under most conditions, but there was no more Triple-A. Might want to get an extra spare tire. He started a shopping list for Albuquerque: spare, clothes, chains, an extra sleeping bag… “What else?” What did Jess need? At least she didn’t seem like a girly girl with two suitcases for an overnight.

  A knock at the door. “Yeah?”

  “Mannie? It’s Jess.”

  He opened the door. She stood there, dressed to travel, a plaid shirt over a white blouse, and jeans tucked into her cowboy boots. She picked up the duffel bag on the floor next to her and walked in.

  “Figured we could eat with the folks at the high school.” She sat in the chair, then hopped back up. “We can go from there. I want to thank them.”

  “Sounds good.” He glanced down at his bare feet, Gotta get myself moving. “Was going to snag a shower. Not sure when we’ll have another opportunity and who knows about hot water and electricity.”

  “Already did. I’m gonna head over. See if there’s anything I can do before breakfast.”

  His knee ached, but no worse than usual. His hand continued to throb. In fact, his whole body ached, but that wasn’t really too surprising, considering the vaccine. Mannie drained the last drips of coffee, cobwebs wrapped around his brain. Hopefully they had more coffee at breakfast.

  He blasted the hot water, though the pressure was pretty mediocre. It didn’t matter; it washed away the sleep and eased the soreness of an abused body.

  After the shower, he dressed in his uniform. It gave him a bit of comfort.

  He found Jess with two trays of hot food: corn beef hash, scrambled eggs and giant glass of milk.

  “You want coffee? Didn’t know how you liked it.”

  “Black with sugar.”

  She disappeared and then reappeared with a large cup of steaming coffee and napkin with half a dozen sugar cubes.

  The food was good, but bland; he wanted more spice. He glanced around for some tabasco for the hash and eggs, but settled for s
alt and pepper.

  Jess had wolfed down all of hers by the time Mannie finished half of his. The coffee reminded him of the his army mess halls, burnt tasting and strong.

  They finished their food and Jess said her goodbyes. Tom the Baker gave her a basket of muffins and wished her luck.

  Mannie could see she had made connections. He wasn’t sure she noticed how Tom’s eyes teared up when he said goodbye.

  Out on the road the miles flew by. After all these years he still missed real trees. Well, there’d be some near Salt Lake. For a while they rode in silence. Jess seemed pensive.

  In Lamesa he stopped to fill up the tank and walk his knee around.

  Jess got out and surveyed the town. Her face registered disappointment.

  More of the same; dry, flat. Jess stretched her arms over her head, and he caught a flash of a pink jewel belly button piercing. He focused on the gas pump.

  Her arms came down. “The trip from Washington was really the only traveling I’ve ever done. I bet you did a lot of travelling with the army.”

  “Some.” Mannie shook the last drops of gas from the nozzle. He went inside the convenience store to scrounge for snacks, and Jess followed.

  “Oh, sorry. They probably aren’t really great memories, huh?” she said, took off her hat to run her fingers through her hair.

  “Some good, some bad.”

  “The idea of travelling always felt exciting and fun—like an adventure. My dad’s big adventure was going to Washington. He said we moved back because of ‘bad influences’ on me, but the economy had gotten rough, and Bellingham was expensive. Moving back to Texas was him giving up. He got crabby anytime I mentioned seeing the world.” She talked like she was trying to make up for the last few hours of silence.

  Mannie didn’t mind. It didn’t matter what she said; Jess had an energy, a positive spirit, that radiated from her. Listening to her was like lying in the warm sun on a cold day. He was surprised to find that he was enjoying having her along on the trip. He’d imagined that she would be childish and annoying—that the mission to collect her and bring her to Lizzie would be like babysitting.

  They stopped for lunch at a Stripes convenience store in Brownfield: frozen, microwaved burritos. Not really food, but it did silence the rumbling in his stomach. They found a picnic bench nearby and sat down to eat.

  “Next stop, Roswell.” Mannie chuckled. “Home of the Aliens.”

  “Really?” Jess bit off half her burrito. The girl could eat. Her eyes lit up. Covering her mouth, she asked between chews, “Can we go to the UFO museum?”

  He laughed. “I guess we need to stop somewhere.”

  They washed the burrito off their hands in a water fountain and then returned to the road.

  As they got close to Roswell the sky grew darker. Mannie didn’t feel good about the color. It didn’t look like yesterday’s thunderclouds.

  “Is that smoke?” Jess asked, reading his mind.

  “Shit. Wildfire.”

  “Is that where we’re heading?” Her voice quavered.

  “Yeah.” Mannie tapped the GPS on. “We can probably get around it.”

  “Probably?” Jess eyes were big and round, she chewed her thumbnail.

  “We’re about to head north. As soon as we get in town.” He tried to keep his voice calm and confident for her sake.

  Jess nodded, staring at the darkness. She noticed her thumb and pulled it self-consciously away from her mouth.

  The fire seemed to be south of Roswell. But as Mannie drove out from between the red ridges and across the Pecos River, the sky grew darker, until it felt more like evening than midday.

  “That feels close,” Jess said. “Do you think it’s in town?”

  Mannie shook his head. “Don’t know.” They passed a pretty, white Victorian farmhouse framed by trees and a picket fence. “Shame to see that go up in smoke.”

  There were no signs of flames, but the smoky haze had gotten thicker. Mannie put the air on circulate and thumbed the air conditioner. Rubi sealed up pretty well; as long as it didn’t get too bad, they would be fine. He gently increased the pressure on the accelerator.

  “I don’t need to see the Alien museum,” Jess was panicking like a cornered cat.

  Mannie needed to distract her. The way her hand clawed at the door handle, he wouldn’t be surprised if she jumped out of the moving vehicle and ran back the way they came. “Jess, you know how to use a gun?”

  She took her eyes off the fire to roll them at him. “I live in Texas.”

  “After we get some place safe we ought to get you something you’re comfortable with.” Farmer’s supply places, empty storefronts and industrial buildings flashed by.

  “To protect me from what?” The fear flooded back into her face.

  Hell. Wrong tangent. “I don’t know. Not that I’m expecting— You know. Not a lot of cops, so...”

  “So, cougars? Zombies? Rapists? Shit like that?” Her voice had gone reedy and high. Her eyes spun back to the fire. “Mannie, shouldn’t you slow down?”

  Mannie glanced at the speedometer. Approaching 70 and they were entering Roswell. “Shit. Maybe.” He released the accelerator a bit. “Guess I’m nervous about the fire, too.”

  Jess released the door handle. Her hands clenched and unclenched. “I’m not nervous. I’m freaked. Had a burn once in the back forty. My jacket caught on fire. Daddy threw me down and got it out.”

  “Yeah.” Mannie had seen plenty worse. “This isn’t all that bad, we haven’t seen flames yet.” He slowed; the smoke rose in a plume due west.

  “You’re sure it’s safe driving into that?”

  “I’m pretty sure we can outrun the fire in this rig. I got plenty of fuel.” It was two hours back to Brownsville, the last major crossroads, and then hours of extra driving.

  “Fuel and fire,” she squeaked, “don’t exactly mix well. Mannie, I’m scared. Really.”

  “Jess. I’ve been in tighter spots than this. Trust me. I am going to get us to Salt Lake and Lizzie. It’s a little brush fire. No real trees to burn.” He patted her knee. “Chin up. We’ll make it.” He smiled at her, but her eyes focused ahead.

  Mannie turned back to the road. In the darkness ahead was a red glow; fire had swallowed the road. “Hell.” He let off the gas and braked. “Not this way.”

  He spun the Jeep around and headed back. “Don’t really want to head into the mountains. Let’s see if we can get around it, okay, Jess?”

  She nodded. Her hand hovered near her mouth.

  “Gonna try to get to 285.” Mannie tapped the GPS, driving slow. He turned onto North Grand street. It dead ended in a few blocks. The fire had engulfed the center of town. He pulled off into the dusty dirt and head across the railroad tracks.

  “Is this a good idea?” Her eyes scanned. Her head swiveled, trying to see in every direction.

  “We need to get north of the fire and hit 285.” Rubi bounced across the old railroad tracks. Don’t pop a tire here, Mannie.

  He drove onto 10th street. There was smoke ahead, but he didn’t see fire. Mannie pulled onto Main. “I think this is 285.” The column of smoke to the south had grown. Jess’ hands were in her lap, clasped together. Her eyes were closed.

  Maria, madre de Dios. Keep us safe. Praying was becoming a regular habit. The smoke diminished. As he drove through it, a smaller, darker plume rose straight ahead to the west.

  Keep your eyes closed, Jess. He continued, accelerating back to highway speed. The wind whipped the jeep. No wonder the fire was spreading. Let me get past it.

  The smoke and open flames were jumping across the prairie brush. Tomorrow this would all be black. He pushed the accelerator to the floor.

  Mannie looked over at Jess. Her eyes were open again, her body rigid. She stared at the flames ahead.

  He glanced in the rearview mirror. What had only been smoke was now open flame racing upward as the town caught fire. Don’t look back. Straight ahead.

  Too late. Jess
turned to see the flames. “Mannie?” her voice reached a high fevered pitch. “We can’t go back?”

  “No.” Mannie focused on the road ahead, still only smoke, but a black wall of smoke floated toward the road on a river of fire. Jess’ hand clenched on his arm. “We’re gonna be fine. Come on, Rubi.” His hands gripped the wheel. Panic does no good. He breathed.

  Jess’ eyes closed again and her lips moved. No sound came out. A gust of wind tugged at the Jeep, but he kept it straight ahead, racing the conflagration. How long could it take? He’d hit 111 and Rubi wasn’t going any faster.

  He gained on the darkness. They were going to make it. Don’t say anything yet. He drove into the wall of black smoke. Let us come out the other side.

  As he burst through, the smoke pushed ahead of the fire by the wind, sucked toward him in the tailwind. Ahead, clear and hazy air greeted him.

  Mannie sighed in relief. “Jess. We’re clear.” He let up on the accelerator and let the Jeep get back to regular cruising speed.

  “Really?” Her eyes opened and a weak smile lit her face.

  “Sorry.” Jess stared behind her as the terror retreated in the distance. “Silly little girl, I guess.”

  “Fear is… A little fear is a healthy thing.” He’d started to say, Fear is how you know you’re alive. Something his XO used say. He used to say it, too.

  Mannie thought he’d passed all that machismo shit. He could have avoided the fire, spent several more hours taking the long way around, but when the stress kicked in the old tapes played.

  Jess was quiet.

  The sun was going down by the time they hit old Route 66, now I-40, at Cline’s Corner. They picked up salisbury steak dinners from the mini-mart and cooked them in a double-wide mobile home next door. They needed the stove. Mannie walked in. The door was unlocked, no bodies, no scent of decay.

  After dinner, Mannie finished his Coke. “Less than an hour to Albuquerque? You wanna go on or sleep here?”

  Jess’ face twisted up a bit. “I’m okay either way, but I’d rather sleep in a motel. Seems weird sleeping in someone else’s bed—like they might show up at any time. I know it’s not reasonable, but…”