Dust and Kisses

by Smith, Dean Wesley

  “Discovering if people are still alive is the reason I’m sitting here, having this wonderful picnic instead of eating soup with my cats back on the coast.”

  Matt nodded. “I know you must miss your cats, but to be honest with you, I’m very glad you’re here.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, then she said, “So am I.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  SHE HELPED HIM do the dishes, putting everything into a dishwasher, something she didn’t have in the house she lived in at the coast. She loved his kitchen. It felt perfect for cooking, for conversation, for more than one person to move around another. The light from the big windows made it bright and the air-conditioning kept it cool.

  While they worked, he asked her more questions about her job, about why she had become interested in physics, and about her years in college. It felt good to talk about those kind of things again.

  Almost normal.

  It seemed he craved just normal conversation as much as she did. That made sense after three years. When they were finished with the cleanup, the chicken covered and in the fridge along with the few remaining deviled eggs, she went back down the hallway to put her clothes in the dryer, then joined him in the security room.

  She sat in her chair, pulling it up a little closer beside him. It was amazing how, in such a short time, she was really starting to trust this man. And enjoy his company, and being near him. She wanted to get a lot closer than they were, but so far she was managing to not show him that in any way.

  He was being equally as cautious in return, something she appreciated.

  “No sign of where they all went?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” Matt said. His fingers moved on the keyboard, showing different views of areas of Portland. All of them were empty. No red light was blinking on his big city map.

  “Maybe they had planned on spending the night in the Hilton Hotel. There’s also a lot of loft apartments and such in that area that would be easy to get in and out of.”

  “True,” he said. “The old Benson is right across the street from the Hilton. If they’re in that neighborhood, we might be able to catch a glimpse of them from the roof.”

  “You got some good binoculars?” she asked.

  He laughed. “The best the stores had to offer. And a couple of telescopes too. One on the roof, one on the deck.”

  “I bet the stars on a clear night from here are wonderful,” she said, standing.

  “They are.” He pushed his chair back and stood as well. “No lights of the city to get in the way anymore.”

  “Good point,” she said.

  He picked up a beeper-like device and held it up for her to see. “Remote alarm, to let us know if they’re going somewhere else I have cameras. Or coming close to this building.”

  “You have all kinds of nifty gadgets,” she said, watching him put it on his belt.

  “Again, just too much time, an over-active imagination, and no limits on money. The no limits on the money is the key. It’s amazing all the nifty devices man had come up with.”

  She had to agree with him there. Too bad all this invention and originality was now going to be lost in the ruins. She doubted that there was even enough of a population for man to survive, let alone survive in any real civilized fashion.

  But she didn’t say any of those depressing thoughts, instead she just followed him toward the elevator. Instead of pushing the button, he turned and went to a door off to one side of the entry foyer. “This is a private entrance to what had been a penthouse patio on the roof,” he said. “Something extra for whoever lived in this place before me.”

  He opened the door and held it for her to go ahead.

  “You have any idea who that was?” she asked as she started up the narrow staircase.

  “Not a clue,” he said. “I actually think the apartment might have been between owners, since there were no clothes, nothing in the kitchen, and everything looked cleaned and ready for someone else to move in.”

  “Lucky find,” she said. “I had to clean out an older couple’s things from the house I took over. Luckily, they weren’t there, but it still wasn’t fun.”

  “I bet,” he said.

  She reached the top of the stairs and pushed on through the heavy metal door. The heat hit her in the face like a hard slap. It was about noon, much hotter than this morning and even warmer on a rooftop. She wouldn’t want to be up here around five in the afternoon when it would be hotter yet. She wasn’t sure how long she was going to be able to stand this heat now.

  They had come out on what looked like a stone patio, with a number of benches around one side, and what had been some planters, now full of brown weeds, marking the difference between the patio and the rest of the roof. Around her, over the waist-high edge of the building, the city stretched out around her, the river a blue band to her right, the mountains a green forest to her left. The sky was crystal clear, and the snow on the top of Mt. Hood seemed to just glow in the bright sun.

  The maintenance building they had just come out of blocked her sight of the city to the south.

  “Wow,” Matt said. “It’s turning into a real hot one today. I better check the garden.”

  He turned and went around a planter and out onto the gravel rooftop, heading toward the south side. She followed, her steps crunching on the gravel, moving slowly, very glad she wasn’t spending the day out in this heat. In more ways than one, she had been lucky to have Matt find her. And being up on this hot roof was reminding her of that. His air-conditioning was a lifesaver.

  She went around the corner of the elevator shaft structure and stopped cold at the sight. A lush garden stretched out in front of her, looking very out of place on the gray, gravel roof.

  She shouldn’t have been stunned by his garden, considering everything she had already found out that he could do. But for some reason, he just didn’t seem to be a person who could grow things.

  Yet he clearly was.

  This guy really was too good to be true.

  His garden stretched along the rooftop for a good fifty paces, and was twenty or so rows wide, filling the entire roof between the maintenance structure and the south edge. The planted area was framed by large boards at least a foot deep, forming what looked like a pool-like enclosure filled with dirt. Black rubber hoses of a drip water system ran along each row of plants and kept the ground a dark, rich brown, even in the heat.

  “Amazing,” she said, moving over and standing near where Matt was checking a water line. “Why did you build this instead of just going out and finding some ground somewhere else and planting a garden?”

  “Seemed easier to have everything I needed close by,” he said, moving to check a small pump, then working his way down a hose line. “And safer on a day like today.”

  She had to give him that.

  She focused on the plants. From what she could see at a glance, he had about everything growing up here. Green peppers and onions were on the left. There were corn stocks, potatoes, zucchini, and a dozen other types of plants, some she didn’t recognize.

  “This is really amazing,” she said. “It’s bigger than my garden, and I have unlimited room. How did you get all this dirt up here?”

  “One of those small tractors with a scoop on the front. It just barely fits in the service elevator.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  Matt smiled. “Nope.” He bent over and checked another water line. Then he stood and smiled at her. “I brought it up here one scoop at a time from a spot down near where I saw you by the river.”

  She couldn’t even imagine the amount of time that must have taken. He must have made a hundred trips at least. Of course, over the last few years, they both had nothing else to do but take care of themselves, so time wasn’t an issue. But having the stamina to do something like this impressed her. Clearly Matt had a level of patience she didn’t have.

  She walked along the edge, watching him check the hoses, making sure everything was in
place. When they reached the other side of the large garden, she was even more impressed. The thing was at least twice, maybe three times the size of her garden, and she knew how much time it took her to keep it going and alive. She just hoped most of her plants were growing when she got home. Even on the coast, it sometimes stayed dry for long enough to kill a garden.

  “Can you grow enough on something this size to last an entire winter?”

  “Well, here and on the twenty-first floor,” he said, smiling sheepishly at her.

  “Twenty-first floor?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, I have an indoor garden there as well, that I keep going all winter with lights. I like fresh vegetables, in case you couldn’t tell.”

  “I guess so,” she said, shaking her head.

  He pointed toward a telescope sitting near the edge of the building on the north side, then started that way. She followed him, staring out over the city as he picked up the telescope, tripod and all, and moved it toward the west wall of the roof. “I’ve been trying to learn how to grow some spices down there as well, but not having much luck so far.”

  “They are tough,” she said. “I can give you a few hints I learned from my mom.”

  “Would you?” he asked, clearly excited at the idea. “Anything to add a little flavor and change to the diet.”

  “I know that feeling,” she said. “I’ve grown awful tired of fish and clams and crabs.”

  “Oh, don’t I wish,” he said. “I’ve tried fishing the river, but without much luck. Never really knew how to do it.”

  “Neither did I,” she said, remembering those first few weeks of learning how to fish. “Books helped a lot.”

  “That’s how I learned how to garden,” he said, putting the telescope up next to the edge of the roof on the west side facing the main part of town and the hill beyond. “Gardening and elevator maintenance, right out of the books.”

  Just as he was about to look into the telescope, the beeper on his side went off.

  He clicked it off, motioned that she should follow him, and headed for the door to the staircase. “Looks like some of them are moving.”

  She stayed right with him, matching him stride for stride all the way to the door. He opened it and held it for her, then she held the one at the bottom.

  The air-conditioning in his apartment felt wonderful, and made her glad they hadn’t stayed any longer on the hot roof. She was still not acclimated to this heat after living so long in the cool temperatures.

  “Water out of the tap safe to drink?” she asked.

  “It is,” he said, moving toward the security room, “but grab a bottle from the fridge instead. And one for me if you would. It’s colder.”

  “Got them,” she said.

  A moment later she joined him with the two bottles of cold water. “What are they doing?” she asked as she dropped into her chair.

  “Nothing that I can see,” Matt said, shaking his head. “The group downtown didn’t set off the alarm. “But this new group did.”

  “New group?” Her stomach twisted at the words.

  On the monitor, she could see another large group of people on motorcycles, slowly working their way through wrecks on the I-84 freeway, heading toward Portland from the Columbia Gorge to the east.

  They were dressed basically the same as the first bunch, in leather jackets, logical riding clothes even during hot weather. But from what Carey could see, these were mostly women, and some children. Only one biker in every group of five or so bikes was a man.

  A couple of women had doubled-up on bikes, and there were three or four younger kids behind a couple of the men. One bike had a small sidecar with a woman in it holding a baby in her arms. That sight stunned Carey.

  She kept staring at the woman and child until they went out of sight behind a large pile of wrecked cars.

  “There are more in this group than the first group,” Matt said, his voice low and sounding stunned. “Families and kids.”

  “And one with a baby,” Carey said.

  Matt nodded. “I saw that. Makes the entire bunch seem a lot friendlier, doesn’t it?”

  Carey had to admit it did. Seeing families traveling on motorcycles felt completely different than seeing a large gang of bikers in leathers.

  “Looks like they’re staying in groups of four or five bikes,” Matt said, “with one person with a headset in each group, and one guy per group as well. The first group that came into town ahead of this one must be setting up living quarters. These folks are traveling smart. Very smart.”

  Carey stared at the woman with the baby in the sidecar as they came back into sight, moving slowly under Matt’s camera position. “I wonder where they’re from?” Carey said.

  “Or where they’re heading,” Matt said.

  “You think we should go talk to them later on?” Carey asked.

  Just saying that thought out loud scared her more than she wanted to admit, and again she had to remind herself that the reason she was back in the city was to meet other survivors.

  Again, her mother’s voice echoed. Such a brave little girl.

  Matt looked up at her. “I think we should wait until they get settled and decide then.”

  She could tell he was worried about the same thing. Yet she knew that since these were families traveling together, if they didn’t take the chance to talk to them, find out where they were heading, they would both regret it later.

  Suddenly, she had a thought that scared her even more. What they might be watching right here was the future of the entire human race.

  “Good idea,” she said, as more bikes came into sight. “No point in rushing into something and taking any extra chances.”

  Matt laughed. “Yeah, like I did yesterday meeting you. And like you did coming here with me.”

  She laughed as well, the tension easing. “Yeah, like that.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  IN ALL HIS FEARS, in all his daydreams about finding other people still alive, Matt would have never thought it would happen like this, and in the way it was happening. First, Carey walked into town, a beautiful, smart woman, by herself. Then two groups of at least sixty men, women, and children on motorcycles.

  After three years of seeing almost no one, this was feeling like too much. A small part of him just wanted the calm, day-to-day existence he had been living over the last two years. But now that he had met Carey, now that he had seen this large group of humans still alive, now that Carey had told him what happened to humanity, and there was a chance that there could be a lot of people left alive out there somewhere, he knew that he could never go back to that loner kind of life. And most of him didn’t want to.

  Most of him.

  He and Carey spent the rest of the afternoon talking and watching the second group of motorcyclists work their way slowly into town. It took them almost twice as long to go the same distance as the first bunch, which explained part of the reason why they were not all traveling together.

  But there were clearly other reasons, and Matt was very impressed at the organization and thinking that had gone into moving so many people. One bunch went ahead and set up camp, scouted for food, did what was necessary to find water and decent rooms. The leaders more than likely cleared out bodies from rooms, got water working where they could, found and set up generators, and so on.

  The second, larger and slower group, came along as they could, finding a place to stay mostly ready for them when they got to the next stop.

  It was also safer, Carey had pointed out. The first group made an imposing sight, and if they ran into trouble with someone already living where they were heading, the first group could handle it, or find a new campsite, without endangering the children.

  If Carey hadn’t already been there, Matt had no doubt he would have gone down and talked to them the moment he saw the second group coming in. He really wanted to understand better what they were doing, where they were heading, and why.

  But with Carey beside him, he wa
nted to take a few less chances. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling for her besides the natural attraction of a beautiful woman after three years of being alone. He was trying to keep that off to one side as best he could.

  Most of the time, he was failing, but he was trying.

  Carey wasn’t making it any easier. She was fun to talk to, laughed easily, and seemed to be attracted to him as well. It was clear that she too was trying to move carefully and slowly when it came to him, which meant that a few times during the afternoon the conversation had been more like a dance.

  In the middle of the long afternoon, after the group had completely made its way into the city and out of his camera range, he and Carey moved to chairs at the table, drinking sun tea and talking about their pasts.

  He told her that he hadn’t had a girlfriend three years ago. He learned about Paine, about Paine and Carey’s engagement, and about her dad and mom and what it was like growing up an only child.

  He told her about his family, and how his brother was living in New York.

  They even told each other about their fears, and how they had coped with being alone, thinking they were the only person left alive, and how they had managed to both survive. Carey seemed very impressed by his travels that first year, and everything he had built here. He was impressed with how she had set herself up a safe home, learned how to use guns, learned many things from books. She had converted herself from a bookish scientist to a survivor and stayed sane. That impressed him a lot.

  It was a wonderful afternoon of talking and sharing, one that he would have never dreamed he could have again with a woman. Or anyone, for that matter.

  “You know,” he said, glancing at his watch, “it has been over three hours since that lunch. How about I start an early dinner?”

  He could see some hesitation in her eyes, as if suddenly the old habits of being polite, not imposing too much had crossed her mind. It was clear to him they needed to talk about the situation of where she was going to stay for the night, get everything out in the open.