by Ryan Schow
“I think my daughter likes your son,” I tell Lenna as we’re turning onto 23rd Ave.
“Mom!”
“It’s true,” I tell her.
“I think my son likes your daughter, too, so I guess we’re sort of in this together,” Lenna says.
“Really?” Macy asks.
She smiles, then focuses on the road ahead, her head obviously in the clouds. We’re heading through a barren neighborhood with a few bombed out houses and a lot of shattered windows. Overhead the canopies of telephone wires are the only things in the sky. That and some strange looking clouds.
“When you guys are done with the whole Love Connection business back there,” Rider says, “we need to keep our eyes open.”
“Are you expecting trouble?” Stanton asks.
“Always,” he says.
Rider’s got his gun out, but he’s had it out since the beginning. Stanton has his out, too. It’s fully loaded and he’s got a spare magazine in his back pocket. I’ve got a shotgun slung over my shoulder and Macy’s got her gun. Lenna is the only one who’s unarmed.
“Up ahead, on 23rd and Irving, from left to right is the S & B Supermarket, a housewares and restaurant store, the Wok Store and the Guangdong Barbecue Restaurant. With the exception of the restaurant supplies store, all these buildings are two story buildings with windows.”
“Look around, Rider,” I say. “There are two-story buildings everywhere with plenty of windows people can shoot us from.”
“I’m less worried about the people hiding in thousand square foot homes and more worried about large restaurants where crowds can congregate.” No one says anything so he continues on his train of thought. “The intersection spans four directions, and though it’s not a big one, it’s an intersection nonetheless. Plus Indigo said you took down the Walgreen’s and its band of morons, which is up ahead. They seemed like lightweights based on what she said, but they were members of The Ophidian Horde anyway.”
“You think they’ll retaliate?”
“You killed the guys in the school, right?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“And didn’t Indigo carve her name in one of the shooter’s forehead?”
“How do you know all this?”
“Atlanta told me.”
“You talked to her?” I ask. Then, before he can answer: “She doesn’t talk to anyone.”
“The point is, getting out of here makes sense, so the further we can get from here the better.”
We pass through the intersection at 23rd and Irving without incident. We continue on through a neighborhood that has been flat out eviscerated. There are smoked telephone poles, hanging telephone wires and burnt down trees; there are caved in homes and the charred husks of cars—one of them with a small family huddled together inside. They’re all practically black with ash. Macy starts to look inside.
“Don’t,” I say.
She does anyway. I grab her good arm, gingerly nudge her along. For the next few blocks, all the way to Lincoln and halfway toward the Panhandle, she says nothing.
“They were burnt to death in that car,” Macy finally says.
By now we’re halfway down Lincoln. There are houses on the right and the park on the left and a lot of abandoned and destroyed cars all along the road. We’ve passed a half a dozen people steering clear of us because we still have our guns out. Well, Stanton and Rider. Mine’s still on my back and Macy’s is still tucked in the back of her pants under her shirt and jacket.
“At least they went together,” Lenna says.
I know she’s thinking of her husband. Knowing she doesn’t know if he’s dead or alive must be killing her. Being away from her boys right now, it’s got to be the reason she’s so introspective. Or maybe she’s just scared. Thinking she did the wrong thing. Then there’s Indigo. Her father is still missing, as in no contact at all. When I think of that family together, burning to death in each other’s arms, I wonder which is worse: dying together or living without knowing what happened to everyone you once loved.
I’d rather die together, which is why I feel sad for Lenna and Indigo.
We walk the rest of the way down Lincoln, cross 19th Avenue sticking to the walls of The Church of San Francisco, which looks like some futuristic shuttle for intergalactic travel, if there were such a thing. The church is two stories tall and perched at a large intersection. The entire second story is tinted windows. If we ever need a place to hide, someplace with good visibility, I’m thinking it could be there since the place is still in tact. Then again, the building is out in the open and if I have any hopes of survival, I need to start thinking more like a gangbanger and less like a potential victim.
Déjà vu for like the thirtieth time.
I take my shotgun off my back, and I feel better already. Some guy is sitting on the side of the street in front of the Shell gas station. He’s neither old nor young, and he looks like he’s fallen on exceptionally hard times, like maybe he’s days, or even hours, away from keeling over.
He’s looking up at Rider with parched eyes saying, “Mister?” but Rider is just passing by. He looks up at Stanton and my husband says, “We’ve got nothing for you.” When Lenna passes him, he reaches out for her leg, but she steps out of the way. He grabs Macy though, who is too naïve and too injured to be nimble. I lurch forward, slam him in the skull with the butt of the shotgun, snapping his head back.
“Hands off!” I growl, standing in front of him looking like some deranged survivor. I stand there as he sits back up, a knot forming on his forehead.
He’s not cut, but he’s dazed.
“I’m just hungry,” he says, a few of his teeth missing, a few blacked with grime.
“We’re all hungry, and scared,” I tell him, “but that doesn’t give you the right to grab at people. Especially young girls.”
“Whenever you’re done with you lesson in morality,” Rider says, stopping the pack.
“Save it buddy,” I say to him, catching up. “You haven’t got kids.”
“You don’t know that,” he replies, making me think I should’ve kept my mouth shut, that having a temper also means keeping it in check, even after an outburst.
Macy’s looking at me funny, but not saying anything. I get it. I’ve changed. The old me is just a shadow of what’s here now. I don’t like this me, but I sort of do, too. There’s a liberation I feel, this part of me that no longer needs to worry about rules or posturing. There is no pecking order of things except whether you choose to live or die. In a world where living is the prize for doing things right, there truly are no rules, no right and wrong, no reasons to ask for forgiveness.
“What are you thinking?” Macy asks.
“Nothing.”
“Your brain’s going about a hundred miles an hour behind your eyes,” she says.
“Just trying to figure things out.”
“You didn’t have to hit the guy in the face.”
“He didn’t have to grab you, but he did, so I did,” I tell her. “And if you want to lecture me on my reactions to people grabbing my daughter, perhaps you should first think of the fact that all of us walked too close to a guy who looked harmless but could’ve been anything but.”
Stanton says, “Sin, it’s okay.”
“No it’s not, Stanton. You need to be in back, or you have to let me be in back. And if I’m taking up this end, then be quiet and let me do what I need to do.”
Everyone got quiet, then Stanton says, “Okay.”
“I just got rattled is all,” I end up admitting. “I don’t like strange men reaching for Macy.”
We make it all the way to 16th Avenue before encountering sufficient trouble. We stick to the sides of the buildings where we can, staying out of the phantom line of fire, but then, just before 16th, we come upon a huge building that crumble out onto Lincoln, blocking our path.
The building is a huge spill of rubble we’ll have to climb over to pass through.
Rider climbs right int
o it; Stanton follows. Lenna and Macy head into the rubble as well and pretty soon I sling my shotgun back over my shoulder and crawl up and over the debris as well. Halfway through the mess, Lenna yelps. Macy stops to look down. There are bodies in the wreckage of concrete blocks and steel and this has Lenna gasping at first, and then sniffling. I imagine the welling of emotion stems from having just been trapped in a collapsed house herself.
“You okay, Lenna?” I ask.
“Fine,” she says, wiping her eyes.
I give Macy a nudge, but mistakenly look down to see the dust-coated hand of a human casualty, buried in the debris. My eyes find a bare knee, half an exposed face. The skin is dusty looking, the same brownish-grey color of the concrete.
God, I can’t stop looking at the face. The eyelid is pulled open, but you wouldn’t know it right away because the eyeball—like all of the face—is coated with dust. For whatever reason, I can’t stop wondering what the eye would be looking at if there was a soul in this body.
The more we work our way over the spilled wreckage of this collapsed building, the more we witness sights like these: exposed body parts, severed arms and legs, half a head, plus little things like dusty dolls and dead animals, a crushed aluminum walker and the upturned wheels of a motorized wheel chair.
On the other side of the pile, we find steady ground again. As we walk, we walk together, silently, all of us shaken, none of us are terribly anxious to deal with the true revulsions of this city: hundreds of thousands of dead people trapped in buildings, burnt to death, shot to death, smashed in the debris of more than a few toppled buildings.
When we reach Kezar Drive we head into Golden Gate Park, cutting through the southern corner of the park where we’ll end up just north of the Panhandle. In the park there are tents everywhere. There are fires going and lots of people mulling about, but everyone looks miserable, lost. This is the saddest scene ever. It’s nothing like before where the park meant having fun with kites and Frisbees and picnics and the dog. Half these people don’t own any of that. Most of them probably lost their entire family and now all they have is this—a wayward community or survivors.
“Mom,” Macy whispers back to me, “I almost want to cry for these people.”
“Me, too, baby. Me, too.”
We cross Stanyan Street, end up on Fell, then take a left on Ashbury three blocks later. It’s a one block walk up a slight grade before we hit Hayes and that’s when we see it: the college. It’s a large, three story brick building that takes up nearly the entire block.
“It’s huge,” I say.
“It’s nice inside, too,” Rider adds. “There are some extra beds we’ve been collecting, but you’ll need to find a classroom, or a lounge, and make it your own room. Over the next few days, we can help you find blankets and whatever living supplies you need. There’s no shortage of homes nearby, but we don’t go out alone, either. There’s always someone to escort you, wherever you need to go.”
Rider walked them through security, ushering everyone inside the college. He found them rooms next door to each other with a little space from everyone else. He wanted them to have their privacy as they got to know the place.
Deep down, he ached to see Sarah, but he was nervous, too. Rather than heading over there right away, he helped Lenna and the McNamara’s gather cots and blankets. When there was nothing left to do, he made his way to Sarah’s office where he found her inside with a book in hand. His heart absolutely melted at the sight of her.
How is she even possible? he wondered.
She was reclining on a gray chaise lounge she took from one of the teacher’s lounges, her body stretched out with a medical manual in hand and natural lighting highlighting everything great about her. She was just about the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. When she turned her big green eyes on him and smiled, he would swear his spine went so soft he nearly collapsed.
“Rider!” she said in her sexy Cuban accent.
She stood and fell into his arms and started kissing him all over. Then she buried herself into him, hugging him so tight he almost couldn’t breathe.
“You are so beautiful, for a second I think my heart actually stopped.”
She pulled back and looked at him. He could see it in her eyes, how much she missed him, how deeply she needed him, how certain she was that they were meant to be together.
“You always have the right thing to say,” she said.
Smiling, he said, “Right now, all I want is these lips on those lips.”
Leaning forward, she kissed him, melted into him, reconnected with him. When their mouths came apart, she said, “I was so worried about—” but then the words just stopped and he could tell she was tearing up.
“It’s okay,” he said, pulling her into him again. “I’m okay.”
After a few minutes of just being together, she pulled away, wiped her eyes and said, “Tell me you’re going to stay with me.”
He took a deep breath, then explained the situation with Rex and the kids. He said he’d have to go out again in the next few minutes to get the rest of the group.
“Then I’m coming with you,” she said, firm.
“It’s too dangerous,” he replied, even though he knew it wasn’t as dangerous as he made it out to be. There was just that one incident with him and Hagan getting attacked and losing the Jeep, and the incident with him and Ballard nearly getting killed in the half collapsed hospital.
But other than that…
“Why are you always running toward danger?” she asked, totally innocent, but perfectly observant. She looked up at him, scared for him, hurt, her eyes holding him hostage, demanding an answer.
“I guess it’s because I’m good at surviving,” he said. “Trust me when I tell you, not everyone is.”
She lowered her eyes and fell completely silent, her hands busy rubbing his forearm, as if the distraction kept her from saying more. He took her chin and tilted her head up so he could look into her eyes again. They had the most incredible shine.
“Did anything happen here since I’ve been gone?” he asked.
She wiped her eyes, then said, “A couple of Sureños shot out a few of the windows, but Wendell shot them and took their guns. Other than that, not really.”
“How are we doing on mattresses?” he asked.
“Now that the population in here is growing, several of the guys said they’re going out tomorrow in search of more beds and blankets. When are you leaving?”
“As soon as I change.”
She pulled him close again, her little arms so powerful, so delicate. “But you just got here,” she pleaded.
“I know.”
“So stay a bit. Stay with me tonight, I need you.”
He felt terrible telling her he had to go, but the kids’ lives were on the line and he needed to think about them before he thought of his own needs.
“Have you ever shot a gun?” he asked. She smiled, shook her head no. “Well as soon as I get back, I’m going to teach you.”
“Will I need to shoot a gun?”
“Not right now. Maybe not later, either. But yes, you’ll need to know how to handle one.”
She began patting his chest, then she stopped and said, “Ever the boy scout.”
“The vest,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Can I tell you something?” he asked.
She smiled, her cheekbones growing with the dimpled smile.
“Of course.”
“There’s nothing I want more in this world than to be with you, but there are kids out there whose parents are here and I can’t leave them unattended.
“Why are they separated?”
“Because their mother was injured, and one of the girls, Macy, was shot twice. I need you to stay so that you can have a look at them, make sure they’re doing alright.”
“They’re here now?” she said.
“Yes.”
Hand in hand they walked down the hallway to where the McNamara�
��s were, to where Lenna Justus was. Rider introduced her to the McNamara’s, but then Sarah said she’d like to look at Macy with her parents’ permission. Naturally they gave their consent.
“How are you feeling?” she asked the blonde girl.
“Tired.”
“Before you go to sleep, after you guys settle in, come and see me.”
After that, they went next door, knocked and waited for Lenna to answer. She did. Her face was still colored with bruising, her eyes dead from what she’d suffered, from the loss of her husband, from missing her boys.
“Are you up for an exam?” she asked.
“You look young,” she said, almost like youth didn’t equal experience and what did someone in their early twenties have to offer her, a woman ten years her senior?
“I’m young, but most good doctors start out young.”
“I can stop by later,” she said. “I’m sorry if that sounded rude, I’m just…”
“Sad?” Sarah asked.
“Yes.”
She went and hugged the woman, holding onto her for a long moment. She then pulled away and told Lenna where she could find her office. “Will you bring Macy with you when you come by?” Sarah asked. “That way I can look at you both.”
Lenna nodded, smiling.
“Thank you for being sweet,” the woman said.
“We’re going to spend a lot of time together,” Sarah replied, her half moon eyes warm and friendly. “I’m just glad you’re here.”
Stanton stepped into the hallway just as they were leaving. To Rider, he said, “I’m coming with you,” to which Cincinnati stepped into the doorway and said, “Stanton…”
“I’m not leaving them alone out there.”
“So you’re leaving me alone in here?” she said. “We don’t know anyone. I don’t know anyone.”
“You know me,” Lenna said. “And now we know Sarah.”
“I’m going and that’s that,” he said. Cincinnati looked at him with those eyes, eyes that said she just knew she was seeing him for the last time. It was the same look Sarah had given Rider. He hated seeing it once, let alone twice in the same night.