by M. G. Herron
“So you’ll run down this hill and haul six buckets of water to safety on top of the dam, where we stand now, in under five minutes?”
“I told you six buckets was plenty. They’re going to be really heavy when they’re full of water, too.”
“We’re both going to die.”
“Who’s this ‘we’?” I said.
She threw her hands up in the air. “I don’t want to have anything to do with this.”
“Fine. You aren’t part of the plan. Stand way the hell back over there.” I pointed to a small parking lot overlooking the dam.
She scampered easily up to the paved lot, then sat down cross legged and watched me with a haughty expression.
Jesus Christ, it was better when I was alone, I thought.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. The plan was good. Solid, well rehearsed. Slimeball was nothing if not predictable. He hated the whine of Mikey’s electric engine at full throttle.
“Okay, Mikey,” I said, picking up two orange buckets by the plastic handle, one in each hand. “Now!”
Mikey’s tires screeched as he peeled out and did donuts on the empty bridge. When the telltale wake of Slimeball came zooming toward the dam, I waited until the lake monster was within fifty yards, then let the him loose. Mikey careened onto the trail below the parking lot where Nina sat, then around the corner and out of sight along the bank of the river.
Slimeball turned and slithered after him.
That’s when I ran, the orange plastic buckets swinging at my side. I reached the shore in a few seconds, stepped down to the water’s edge—several feet below where the water line used to be, my heightened senses noted distantly—and lowered one orange bucket into the water, and then the other. When I picked them up again, the thin metal handles bent nearly straight with the weight of the water. I staggered up the hill, struggled to keep the buckets level and the water from spilling.
A minute later, I sloshed the first two buckets onto the top of the dam, gasping for breath and cursing my clumsiness for the loss of the precious water. I knew then that the one thing I hadn’t planned for was my own fitness. Scavenging in the city and gardening did not prepare a person to run up hill carrying thirty pounds of water in each hand.
I put my hands on my knees to catch my breath, checked the stopwatch. Already two minutes gone. I yelled against the pain to get my motivation up, grabbed two more empty buckets, and sprinted back to the shore.
I filled two more buckets and was on my way back up the hill to the top of the dam when Nina ran full tilt down the hill past me, the last two buckets swinging.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Helping you with your stupid plan!”
I was overburdened with the buckets and unable to change her mind, though it had been clear to me mere moments ago how much she despised my plan. At the top of the hill, I eased the two full buckets of water to the ground and, my arms shaking with tremors, interlaced my fingers on top of my head to catch my breath. Nina was in the water now, filling the second bucket.
I stood suddenly, cupped my hands to my mouth. “Nina! Hurry!”
Beyond her, the S-shape of Slimeball’s massive body harpooned through the dark water, headed straight for the shoreline.
I jumped from the bridge and practically tumbled down the steep hill as I raced toward her. Nina hauled the second bucket up to the shore then got herself out of the water.
From water level, the only sign of Slimeball in the water was a subtle dark wave on the otherwise placid surface. I reached Nina, took a bucket from her, and together we sprinted up the hill. Nina was fresh and pulled ahead of me easily. I got halfway up the hill when my foot caught on a small rock and sent me skidding to my knees. My water spilled and soaked into the thirsty soil in an instant.
I pushed myself up and walked the rest of the way up to the bridge. Mikey was parked there, Nina standing next to him. Following Nina’s gaze, I turned and tracked Slimeball’s slithering form as it circled near the dam three or four times, snapped up a mouthful of water in apparent frustration, and finally left.
I looked back at Nina.
“Stupid plan,” she said. But her eyes smiled.
I knew just how fast Slimeball could move, so I didn’t even try to go back to refill the bucket I’d spilled.
We needed at least 3 hours so Mikey could recharge, and I didn’t want to get stuck out here. Back to the garden we went, and we celebrated the meager victory by sharing a small cucumber.
Still, though we didn’t voice it at first, both Nina and I were left with a grim outlook. After watering the garden, separating out some drinking water that needed boiling, and accounting for the loss of water due to our clumsiness, we netted maybe twenty gallons to add to the water catch.
“At this rate it’s going to take us a year to fill this thing up.”
“Six months, tops,” I said.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
Over the course of the next three days, we made several more runs, but my mood didn’t improve. If it was sunny enough to recharge Mikey quickly, and we had the guts, we could do three runs a day. But even that barely added to the metal water catch. Nina had the smart idea of lashing makeshift lids on top of the buckets to cut down on the spillage while we were driving. But after a week, the water was still only up to three inches deep.
“That garden is too big, Sid,” Nina insisted. “It soaks up almost all of the water we collect. No wonder you emptied the water catch so fast.”
I argued with her, but Nina was right. Again. My garden was big, and beautiful, and full of fresh vegetables and fruits—something that, during the invasion, I had dreamed about while I survived on scraps. But I couldn’t keep up with it.
“So what do I do?”
Nina looked sadly at the garden. “You make it smaller.”
I shook my head. “I can’t.”
Slash into my own garden? The thought made me sick. I was incapable of destroying something I’d spent so long cultivating.
Damn you, Slimeball.
“I need to be alone,” I said.
• • •
I could breathe a little easier after I had put several thousand steps between myself and the garden. I headed to the same place I always went to think: the studio.
In the basement of the downtown building, I crossed my fingers behind my back and flipped the switch on the generator in the boiler room. It hummed to life.
Every time it worked, it was a marvel. I knew the generator would quit one day, just like the power grid had stopped working, just like the water had cut off. I never let it run for long. But for now, for this moment, I had power. It felt good.
I took the stairs two at a time out of the basement, then up another three levels. On the top floor, I entered a reception area with TONE DEAF MUSIC in giant black letters set on the wall. I walked past the receptionist desk and across an office space where several sets of cubicles, long ago cleaned out and abandoned, occupied the floor.
I stopped at the last door and gently touched the carved oak panels. Someone had cared about this place enough to lock it up nice and tight when people began to flee the city in earnest. It had been in pristine condition when I found it.
The French doors swung open at my touch and I entered a lushly carpeted recording studio. I didn’t have any use for the microphone. Instead, I went straight to the bar cart and poured myself a huge glass of whisky from the bottles kept there. Finally, I sat in the producer’s swivel chair before a panel of instruments. My hands glided over the buttons and keys.
“No. Freaking. Way,” Nina said from the door.
I groaned. “Why did you have to follow me here?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“I didn’t know where the hell you were going or what you were planning to do. You’re the only person I’ve met in… god I don’t even know how long. I couldn’t just let you wander off.”
�
�Like you couldn’t stop yourself from helping me with my ‘stupid’ plan.”
“Just like that.”
“You’re kind of a nuisance, you know?”
“You like being bothered.”
I glared at her, but didn’t object.
Her expression softened. “I’ve been living like an animal in the countryside for months. Eating roots and grasses and berries, afraid to leave my little spot even as the water was drying up. And this was here the whole time.” She took my glass of whisky from my hand. Took a sip, grimaced, and handed it back.
“Why did they leave all this stuff here?”
“It’s just stuff.
“Remarkable stuff. Look at this,” Nina insisted. “It gives you some comfort, doesn’t it?”
I nodded reluctantly.
“Do you know how it works?” she asked.
I nodded, and pressed a couple keys on the instrument panel. Frank Sinatra’s voice came on
“Ahh,” Nina sighed. “He has a beautiful voice. Who is this?”
I smiled. “His name is Frank Sinatra.”
I turned the dial and static flickered. Frank’s voice was replaced by the Beatles.
She gasped and grabbed my shirt in her hands. “Is that the radio?
“It is.”
“How is that even playing?”
“Someone who really loved music left these stations broadcasting. Could be powered by solar panels, by a generator, by wind turbines. Who knows.”
“Incredible.”
“There were a few more when I first came up here. It’s just a matter of time before they all disappear.”
“That must mean there are other people out there. Have you known this the whole time?” Her eyes were wide, incredulous.
“Must be. But where?”
“Show me how it works.”
I pointed to the tuner. “Here, this one adjusts the station. Turn the dial to the left or the right to look for a new station.”
She rolled all the way to the end, then back to Sinatra. Most of it was just static. A bit of rock and roll. A Baptist preacher extolling the virtues of Hell and brimstone. More static.
A blip of silence. She rolled the dial back and came to rest on a new voice, a voice I had never heard before—the urgent voice of a confident woman.
“—Colorado. We are located in the Rocky Mountains near what used to be Denver. New citizens welcome. Bring only what you can carry. The roads are rough, but if you come looking for us, we will find out. Attention! This is the President of New Colorado. We are located in the Rocky Mountains near what used to be Denver. New citizens welcome…”
The recording ran on repeat. I locked eyes with Nina.
“Did you…?”
“No. That’s brand new.”
“We should go.”
“What? No way.”
“What do you mean no way? Did you hear that? President of New Colorado? That means there are people up there—more than there are here.”
“It could just be one crazy lady in the mountains with a radio!”
“You don’t know that.”
“You don’t know it’s not.” I silenced the radio. Damn her for ruining my peaceful moment. If I had time, I could come up with a good solution to the garden problem. I knew I could.
Nina stood up and paced in front of me. “Look,” she said. “The past few days have been great. Getting to know you, and having fresh food and water all the time is amazing. These ruins—” I drew a breath to object, but she corrected herself. “This city is amazing. And what you’ve built, Sid? I’ve never met anyone like you.
“I took a real risk coming south. I didn’t have a choice, but it was still a risk. I could have starved to death in the wilderness. But I chose to come here—and look how that paid off! I met you.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I’m saying that maybe if we take a chance we’ll find this New Colorado—and more people like you and me. Now that I know there are other people out there…I don’t know, Sid. I can’t just sit on my hands and not do anything about it. I can’t not go looking for them.”
“But this is my city. The garden. Mikey…”
“This isn’t your city! That giant, alien killer fish let’s you stay in its city.”
I shoved the seat back as I stood, my fists balled at my sides. “This is my city,” I said. “You can fuck off to Colorado if you want. I’m not leaving.”
Nina turned the volume on the radio back up as I left. I turned the generator off on my way back to the garden, just for spite. I regret to say that I walked quickly, hoping that Nina would lose my trail this time and get lost on her way back.
Maybe if she was lost she wouldn’t be so damned excited to wander around looking for some fictitious city in the Rocky Mountains that may not even exist.
• • •
Nina was at the garden before me in the morning. I had no idea when she’d gotten back or where she’d slept or what she’d eaten.
I had underestimated her. She was wild. She didn’t need me.
“That was mean, turning off the generator.”
“You don’t know how to use it.”
“You could have told me.”
I busied myself packing the buckets into Mikey’s trunk. She stood with her arms crossed and watched me as I drove off.
The morning water haul went fine, even without Nina. After more than a week of the suicide runs, my hands and arms had gotten stronger and I’d grown accustomed to the distance. I made it up the hill with the last two buckets with thirty seconds to spare.
Drunk on my own doing, I took a break for a garden snack and to charge Mikey. Impatient to be off again, I drove Mikey away from the garden when he was just a little bit under 90% charged.
At the dam, I sent Mikey off and sprinted down to the water, easily hauling up the first two buckets with no incident. The second two went slower than I’d hoped, but I was worn down a bit from the hard morning session.
I pushed myself for the third and final set of buckets. Time was on my side. Mikey cut down off the trail right as I crested the dam. The buckets went down. Mikey zoomed around onto the road, and then up on top of the bridge that went over the dam.
I could see him decelerating as he crossed the bridge. Shit. I had pushed him too hard. He came to rest in the middle. I began to walk toward him—
And then a giant, wet, black maw with rows upon rows of sharp teeth came over the dam and crunched into Mikey’s shell, snapping two of the panels clean off. Slimeball’s massive body lurched and cracked the pavement in its haste to grab Mikey and cram him into its mouth. I lunged for a bar on the robot’s frame, grabbed onto it with both hands. Slimeball was too strong. It snapped Mikey back and forth. The metal of the robot’s frame slammed into my shoulder and sent me sprawling to the pavement.
When I caught my breath, I was on the bridge alone. Slimeball was gone, and a huge broken gap in the road fell straight down a dozen feet into the dark water below. It was a miracle I hadn’t fallen in.
“Mikey…” I said. I limped to the edge of the hole, picked up a broken panel off the ground.
I let it fall back to the pavement.
• • •
When Nina saw me walking in, bloody and scraped, limping back toward the garden with no buckets in hand, she gasped and ran to me, put her hands gently on my bruised arm.
I jerked out of her grasp.
“Haven’t you left for Colorado yet?” I said.
My skin was hot. I wanted to take a big club and smash something. I wanted to put a red hot harpoon into Slimeball’s cold alien heart. I wanted to scream.
“Are you hurt?” Nina asked quietly.
“I’m fine.”
“Where’s Mikey?”
I could say nothing. It was like my jaw was wired shut.
“Sid, stop.”
She put herself in front of me until I was forced to stop moving forward.
“Sid, where’s Mikey?”
I looked away. I couldn’t say it. Nina hugged me until I collapsed to the earth, sobbing.
“Slimeball got Mikey,” I managed to say. “It got him. He’s gone.”
A horrible keening sound escaped my throat. Nina held me as I grieved for my oldest friend.
• • •
Three days later, I had scavenged a pack for Nina and filled it with a new water bottle and as much food from the garden as I could fit.
“Here you go,” I said. “This makes it easier to shrink the garden if you take some with you.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?”
“This is my city,” I insisted.
“I’ll miss you, Sid.”
“Same.”
“Are you going to get a new Mikey?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ll find another one.”
The road north was easy to find. I led her to the wide four-lane highway, empty except for the dusty cars that had been abandoned on its shoulders, and pointed her north.
“You’re on this road for a long, long time. When you get to Salina, go west on 70. That’ll lead you straight into Denver. There’s a map in your pack if you get lost.”
“I’ll find them. And then I’ll tell you so you can come, too.”
Nina didn’t cry when she left. But I did, just a little.
The next day, I went back to the robotics lab. Nina was right. I found another Mikey. Had to replace his battery a couple times, and remove the speed governor, but it was the same model, and he ran smooth.
I named him Leonardo and painted a wide blue stripe on his central panel.
Soon, Leo and I were down at the dam. That water catch wasn’t going to fill itself.
I looked down at the turtle-shaped robot. I looked at the buckets at my feet.
What am I doing, stealing water in my own city?
“God damnit, Leo,” I said.
Talking out loud used to comfort me. But after spending all that time with Nina, the words now felt hollow.
Talking was only good when someone else was listening.