by Susan Lowry
The sky had cleared from the morning storm and a few drops of water rolled off the windshield as she accelerated. Fairly often they passed a vehicle stopped on the side of the road, or a transport truck halted in the middle of a lane. Sometimes bodies were strewn around them – a family disintegrating into the pavement like road-kill. Luckily they had managed to get around the serious obstructions. She wondered how long it would take before the bodies were reduced to bones.
“I hope that downpour doused the forest fire,” Kate said. “No more handsome fire-fighters to fly their planes and dump whatever chemicals they used to extinguish the flames. What are we going to do without them?”
“Maybe no firemen, but the planes are there, fuelled up and ready to go! We’ll learn to fly them ourselves. Can you imagine?” she laughed.
“Now that's a scary thought,” Kate said, gazing at her sister.
Sarah angled the mirror on the sun-visor to frame her reflection and spread some bright red lipstick around her mouth and Kate couldn’t help but scoff. “What on earth are you bothering with that for? Are you expecting company?”
“You never know who we could run into,” Sarah teased, examining the dark circles beneath her eyes. No — it's just for me. Make-up was how I made a living don’t forget. Making performers look just right is quite an art you know.”
“Well, I think we both look pretty good au naturel,” Kate sighed. “I wonder what my baby will look like.”
“I hope she looks like mom,” Sarah said, flipping the mirror shut.
“Maybe it will,” Kate pondered absently. As she sped closer to their destination, she glanced at her sister from time to time, studying her and thinking deeply about their separate lives. Sarah seemed to be scouring the dense forest on either side of the highway.
“Oh look Kate – a fawn! Crossing the road up there. Be careful.”
“Poor thing, I wonder where the mother is—”
Kate suddenly slammed on the brakes. Both she and Sarah were struck by the same thing at once — the boy’s pleas which were stronger than ever. He needed them to hurry and find him and it was evident to both of them that if they didn’t rescue him soon, it was going to be too late.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hovering above the Flight-Deck
(July 17th, Year One, PA)
Chris had been on the road too long now, but feeling like he was about to finally discover something that would make everything he’d been through worthwhile, he continued exploring through the town. Up and down the streets, peering onto porches, in through open doors, into vehicles and between the houses — with a vague image of what he felt was waiting to be found.
He’d been having the distinct sense of being guided by the child in him, strange as that was and could not stop searching in this particular area. He’d been there for two days. Thoughts of moving on only gave him a bad feeling — as if his instincts were screaming for him to stop whenever he attempted to leave.
And now — as he turned into what would have been not so long ago a quiet gated-community with large opulent homes — his expectation of finding someone was at a peak. It just felt right, somehow. Only the child in him would have been so trusting of his inner gut feelings with such blind faith when there seemed such hopelessness.
Driving slowly down a third side-street his pulse climbed and the blonde hairs on his arms rose as he passed a Georgian-style manor with white brick, and a sidewalk that led to red doors at the entranceway.
As he drove past it headed for the next mansion, something happened to him, and he came to a stop, reversing his yellow Hummer until he was in line with the sidewalk leading to the red doors. The feeling that he was at the right place pulsed through him, yet he didn’t get out of his vehicle just yet.
Something told him his life was about to change profoundly again and he paused to reflect on the improbable circumstances that had brought him there, still marvelling at the fact he was alive. That fateful day when all of his troubles had begun would be with him forever:
(January 5th)
Chris paused to consciously savour the feeling of weightlessness as he floated above the primary flight and navigation displays, the engine instruments and the abort controls, moving without the slightest of effort – like drifting in water but without its encumbrance or resistance.
He hovered above the flight-deck control panel for a moment, then being careful to use only the slightest touch to propel himself — he had learned in his early days as a first-time free-floater not to zing himself around like a Ping-Pong ball — he glided down to his work station, hooked his feet around the chair to secure his position, and began summarizing his conclusions from the recorded data he had pulled from a chart on the computer.
A shrimp-sized glob floated into his peripheral vision, and then drifted in front of his face. His crewmate Tom sailed several inches over to catch it, stretched up his arm, and nudged the escaped liquid back toward his mouth. “Sorry Chris, I lost control of that one.”
“No problem pal,” Chris said, “I know it's early but I wish we had some champagne or something on board right now. I think we deserve at least that, don't you? We need to make some kind of appropriate toast.”
“Given the circumstances — why are you still working?”
“Well… it ain't over 'til it's over pal, didn’t someone once say that? I want to finish up here. You know me — don’t like leaving things half-done. How's the crew?”
“Firth is still with them, trying to do what he can, but he says it's not promising. Hey Chris?”
“Yeah buddy?”
“The doc’s sick too. He's keeping it quiet but it's obvious.”
“I suspected as much.”
“How about you?”
“You want the truth? Otherwise, don't ask.”
“Ditto.”
Chris pushed himself away from the control panel and glided to the other side of the capsule. “Quality time, what do you say, buddy?”
“Yeah, time to crack open some booze. Where did you stash it Chris?”
“I wish. Should have thought about that earlier. I can't stop thinking about Jennifer and the boys. What it must be like down there.” He shook his head in shocked disbelief.
Tom tried to hide a grimace and looked out the window. “Trish was with her family… so that's something,” he groaned.
“Guess so,” Chris said, finding it impossible to hide the overwhelming pain that had hit him an hour ago. “So fess up bud. Cause it's getting to me now.”
Tom came toward him with a scared look on his face. “Same symptoms as the crew I’m afraid. Guess it’s got all of us then.”
“Jesus, it’s been quiet down at mission control for the entire evening – you know what that means; not a good sign. I'm trying to figure it out, how it got us up in space. We've been in quarantine for six weeks, so where did this come from Tom?”
Tom squeezed his brows together, sighed and then coughed. “The way it hit everyone all at once, had to be calculated I’m thinking, planned for a very long time. An engineered virus — manipulated to wake up years after its release possibly, ensuring it’s a clean sweep. Probably in our water, food – every possible means of delivery. Some off-his-rocker virologist or something like that, I assume — probably a group effort. Suicide for them too, most likely.”
“Yeah, well if the bastards survive this, I hope they live out the rest of their days in hell.”
“Oh you can rest assured of that. Things won't be pretty in the wake of this. They'll probably kill themselves if they haven't already… crazy fuckers.”
Chris began to cough and then he wiped his brow with his sleeve. “But it's a unique perspective from up here now isn't it? We’re lucky buggers to have seen it. Jeez will you look at that planet Tom? It's been special buddy. Doesn't get much better than this.”
“We were onto a lot of good things Chris. All that research and now — I’m afraid there isn’t going to be anyone left to benefit from it. Go
figure.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Two Birds of a Feather
(July 24th, Year One, PA)
“Turn here! To your right,” Kate asserted.
The wheels screeched off of the dusty urban road into a community of homes — some only partially built — surrounded by dry, agricultural landscape. Barely able to breathe in anticipation, Kate scanned every detail around the large houses as Sarah drove their car at a crawling pace down the wide street.
Abandoned vehicles with their doors still ajar were resting half onto front lawns, or not quite inside garages; others were frayed along the edge of the curb. Kate and Sarah averted their eyes from the mostly decomposed bodies, those poor souls who did not make it to their homes before collapsing.
“Look Sarah, there's the fountain! That's it I bet.”
The stately home was poised on a corner lot. Four white columns supported a wide overhang with triangular brackets over the main entrance. A three-tiered fountain ornamented the parched, brown lawn. “I know that's it, look — he's put out a sign for us!”
Leaning against the edge of the fountain's rim was a medium-sized blackboard on which was written, 'This is ware I live.'
“Oh Sarah, this has to be him! I can't believe we've actually done this. It seems surreal.”
“We'll soon find out.” Sarah replied, swinging up the far side of a u-shaped driveway to stop just before the home's entrance.
Sarah gave Kate's arm an encouraging squeeze and took a deep breath. “Okay, what are we waiting for?”
They simultaneously stepped onto the driveway, leaving the doors open for Snowy who was with the luggage in the backseat. Kate stepped up to a curved porch, where she rapped on one of the double-doors. “I hope he can hear us.” She peered through a gap in the sheers that covered the tall window flanking the door, but saw no movement inside.
They scanned the neighbourhood, knocked again, and waited apprehensively. “Why isn't he answering? Could we possibly have the wrong house?”
“No, this is it alright.” Sarah had stepped over to the other side of the fountain for a closer look at the message on the blackboard. “The chalk is fresh.”
Kate glanced up and down the street wondering if he had gone somewhere, then strolled over to the side of the house to discover the gate to the backyard was locked, and called over the top of the tall fence. “Thomas? It's Kate and Sarah!”
She was feeling dizzy. It wasn't her morning sickness or the oppressive heat so much as the thought that the poor boy had been alone so long in this mind-numbing void. There wasn't a breeze or bird to break the stillness. She remembered the torturous solitude while she was waiting for the thaw; it was as if she’d been sucked into a frozen black hole which had nearly killed her. The thought of a child having to endure such loneliness was almost too much for her to bear.
She went back to the front door beside Sarah. “Maybe he’s gone somewhere. Why not contact him the way we’ve always done?”
Sarah sat down on the wide step beside her, they closed their eyes, and in a moment had a clear but shocking vision. They glanced at each other with gaping jaws, jumped to their feet, and thrust the front door open, immediately assaulted by a particularly disgusting odour, understandable in such heat and with all the windows closed.
They pressed the material from their cotton tops against their faces. The stench seemed to be funnelling down a curved staircase from the second level. Kate gagged and rushed from the tiled foyer through the dining room to the back of the house where a kitchen door provided an escape.
She dove into the yard, falling on her knees and vomiting over the patio stones, finally lifting her throbbing head to find old food cartons strewn across the yard and piled up along the back fence where the wind had carried them.
“Kate look!”
Sarah was crouched beside a lawn chaise where an extremely small-framed child of Asian descent lay with his eyes squeezed shut, his chest pitching up and down rapidly. Still reeling, Kate wiped her mouth and stumbled toward him. “Oh no! He's having trouble breathing.”
Sarah's forehead creased and they each placed a hand on the child's cheek. “Honey, stay with him for a moment, I'll be right back,” Sarah said.
Kate observed the flushed child struggling for air. “It’s okay sweetie, we’re here now,” she said gently. “Sarah’s getting some medicine for you so you’ll feel better, okay?” He was so small and he wouldn’t open his eyes. She should never have stayed on the beach so long.
Sarah arrived through the gate at the side of the house with water and the medicine kit. “He's so hot,” she said, moistening a towel with cold water taken from the electric car cooler and placing the cloth over his forehead. As she did this the boy peered up at them briefly, then squeezed his eyes shut again.
“You’re okay now. Remember, we said we were coming for you darling?” Kate crooned. “Let's get him over to the shade.”
As they lifted the lawn chair the boy focused on both of them.
“Don't worry sweetie, you’re in good hands now. We're going to look after you,” Sarah smiled.
A tear ran down the side of the child's face and his delicate little lips arched downward. “Take a drink for me okay?” Kate pulled his head up slightly, “Just slow sips, that's a boy.”
“Sarah. The puffers — in the side pocket I think. There are steroid tablets in there too. They’ll help his asthma. I had to have them as a kid.”
Breathing in the fine mist from the inhalers that Kate dispensed for him, the boy gradually calmed down. He peered at them with beautiful, near-black eyes.
“Can you swallow this for me darling?” Kate requested. She held a tablet to his mouth and obediently, he took it with a sip of cool water.
Sarah tilted the back of his chaise upright and then handed him a bottle of cold apple juice with a straw.
“Oh my goodness, we've finally found you,” Kate suddenly chuckled, beaming with relief that he appeared to be okay. She began to stroke his fine, black hair. “We came from so far away. You're such a beautiful little guy.”
Sarah had pulled one of the chaises right beside him and was sitting down too. “Are you feeling a little better sweetie?” The boy nodded shyly.
Kate took his hand. “Do you remember when you phoned me? I know it was a scary time. For me too — you probably want to forget all about it.”
He frowned, looked down and nodded.
“I see you've been able to feed yourself,” said Sarah, turning toward the cereal boxes, pop cans, and various cartons covering the entire surface of a long patio table and the empty containers sweeping across the huge yard. “Where did you get all that food sweetie?”
He pointed at several of his neighbour's homes. “Clever of you,” she smiled, turning to Kate. “I think he's better than we thought hon. I'll bet the asthma attack was just angst over meeting us — poor babe.”
They both smiled at him reassuringly.
Dragging a third chaise over beside him, Kate sat down too, twisting the lid from a bottle of water and gulping down half of it. “I wish you would tell me your name. I've been calling you Thomas, but I’m not certain I got that right.”
He lowered his head with such a sad look of defeat that Kate's eyes began to well up. “Oh honey… that's okay. You don't have to talk. I'm so sorry.”
“I have an idea,” Sarah said. “We saw how perfectly you can print on your clever sign out front. Would you write down your name for us? I think I have something — hold on.”
She disappeared through the side gate, returning moments later with a pad of paper, a pen, and a box full of food for their dinner. “Here you go.” He immediately printed his name clearly.
“You’re Travis?” Kate grinned. “Well then, Thomas wasn't that far off. I almost got it right, isn't that amazing?”
“Sure is,” Sarah agreed. “Can you tell us how old you are?” Encouraged, Travis flipped over to the next page and drew a giant number seven.
�
�So bright for seven years old,” Kate praised, “and a good thing too. We're going to need a brilliant boy like you. We've got some adventures planned for the three of us.”
Suddenly Kate gasped. “Snowy! We forgot about him in the heat.”
Sarah shook her head. “I put him in the shade at the side of the house when I got the medicine. He’s okay.”
She jumped up and brought him around, cleared a spot for his cage on the table and set it down. While they ate their dinner, Kate caught Travis whispering something under his breath through the bars, while Snowy paced back and forth looking frazzled.
When the sun went down it began to get cool, so Sarah retrieved some blankets from the car. Travis had been camping outside for quite some time. They couldn’t blame him; he had to escape the rank smells of his decomposing family but he’d obviously felt the need to stay close to them.
After they'd finished canned pasta and fruit cocktail, and Travis had taken another dose from the puffers, they all climbed onto the chaises for the night.
Kate lay back, feeling much better; it was quite beautiful out under the stars. A few mosquitos buzzed by her ear, leaves rustled slightly, and she could hear the child's breathing become steady and deep as she blinked up at the twinkling sky.
***
In the morning Kate awoke to someone nudging her arm and found Travis standing above her, offering a box of chocolate soymilk. “Aren’t you a darling, thank you sweetie. Uh… just give me a minute,” Kate muttered sleepily.
She scratched at her scalp, yawned, and sitting upright, took a small sip; but the warm milk was not what her stomach wanted and she fought the urge to gag. “Ugh, I'll work on this in a bit. Um – where's my sister got to?”
Travis had an adorable grin on his face. She twisted around to see what he was pointing at. She must have slept incredibly deeply not to have heard the hum of the humungous Winnebago at the other side of the yard. It was parked in a driveway that led to the garage at the back of the house and up in the cockpit sat Sarah.