Seasons After Fall

by Reginald Linsao

  “I’m not sure if we could’ve done anything,” said Rowan. “It’s like I said before: maybe someone else could’ve, if they knew how to treat this sickness.”

  “Do you think that anyone will ever figure out what to do?”

  “Maybe. But first, the world needs people who actually care about those who are sick.”

  “When do you think that’ll happen?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe when people stop caring about themselves more than others.”

  The next day, a torrent of uncompromising rain forced Rowan and Lorena to take shelter in an elementary school at Chualar. The winds shook buildings and tossed bodies along the streets, but surprisingly, the gates around the school did not flinch. Inside, the classrooms were devoid of any corpses, though remnants of the lost children remained. Crayons, drawings, and toys littered the floors of the many classrooms.

  Lorena picked up a small action figure and pressed the button on its belly. It danced and squeaked, playing a small jingle before saying, “Hey! It’s me, Giddyup Gideon!”

  She tore the batteries out of the toy before placing it back on the ground. She then sat at one of the desks and put her backpack on the seat next to her before finally leaning back with a relaxed sigh.

  “What food do we have left?” she asked Rowan.

  He kicked the toy that Lorena had placed on the floor. “Not much.”

  Rowan lumbered over to the window that faced the street and watched the raindrops race each other. The storm came out of nowhere, and it showed no signs of calming down.

  “We’re only a few days away, and this fucking rain is stopping us.”

  “Maybe it won’t last very long,” said Lorena.

  “That’s optimistic.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Come sit. The rain isn’t going to stop just by staring at it.”

  When Rowan returned from the window, Lorena offered him half of a chocolate bar, which he graciously accepted.

  “If that’s really how rain worked, I’d ask you to sit by the window with me.”

  “We can stare at it right now if you want.”

  Rowan laughed. “No, I think I’m good. You’re right. We might as well relax or something while we wait.”

  Lorena grabbed a black crayon. “Do you remember what that guy Max said when we first met him?”

  “Somewhat. Why?”

  “Because he was right,” she said. “About needing to recover. Not just surviving.”

  “Do you think that the world could ever recover from something like this?”

  Lorena started scribbling on the chocolate bar wrapper. “Maybe not the world—but people can. People like us.”

  “Maybe. But I feel like I’m only getting worse and worse.”

  Lorena finished her sketch and handed it over to Rowan. “I don’t think you are.”

  He looked at the wrapper. Lorena had drawn a crude outline of white lilacs, reminding him of the beautiful garden at the elementary school where he had met Caitlyn. He remembered it clearly—there were bright, red tulips, sweet honeysuckle, pink roses—and of course, there were pleasant, white lilacs. The teachers never let the kids explore the garden during recess, mostly because they were afraid that the children would start picking all of the flowers. Most of the kids didn’t really care about the garden anyway, but Rowan and Caitlyn were enamored with its magnificence.

  One day in the first grade, Rowan had gotten in trouble for falling asleep in class. His teacher completely chewed him out in front of everyone, yelling about how he would become a failure if he didn’t pay attention during class. He completely shut down for the rest of the day, not wanting to talk to anyone—even to Caitlyn.

  During recess, Caitlyn brought Rowan over to the fence that surrounded the garden. She reached inside, causing Rowan to jump back in fear of getting caught. He looked around, but he didn’t see anyone watching them.

  “You’re gonna get in trouble!” he said.

  Caitlyn picked a few of the white lilacs and handed them to him. “Here. Now we’re both in trouble.”

  Rowan placed the flowers in his pocket, and he ended up doing the same with Lorena’s drawing. They then spent the next few hours playing tic-tac-toe on the chalkboard, though it always ended in a stalemate. The game was different from when they were children—back then, it used to be so exciting and fun and new and winnable. Now, they were meticulously calculating every move, afraid to make any mistakes, as a single mistake would lead to a loss. This, however, meant that neither of them would ever win, as they were both too focused on playing the perfect game.

  The rain poured throughout the night. Every few minutes, Rowan found himself looking outside to see if the downpour was any less harsh. Sometimes it was, but it would come back even stronger just moments later.

  Before long, the classroom was pitch black. The thick clouds had enveloped the moon and both Rowan and Lorena knew that it would be wise to conserve their batteries. To pass the time, Rowan simply imagined himself walking home in the rain. If the storm endured for a couple of days, he would actually be tempted to do so. He could try and find an umbrella, but even still, the winds would hold him back.

  Would Lorena walk with him? She probably would, but he didn’t want to subject her to that. Still, he couldn’t imagine being stuck here in this classroom for much longer. It wasn’t as if the rest of the world was waiting for the storm to finish, too. Life continued out there, and it was just as threatening as ever. Rowan didn’t have enough time to wait around. His family needed him.

  For the first time in years, Rowan put his hands together and prayed. His mother often went to church on Sundays, but every single time, Rowan either didn’t really feel like going or he just had too much homework to do. Now, he needed prayer more than ever. He prayed for the rain to stop, and he prayed that he would make it back home safely. He prayed that everything was going to be okay.

  Rowan was woken by the sound of doors and shutters slamming open and shut. He figured that the winds must’ve gotten stronger overnight, but to his surprise, the trees in front of the window that had waved back and forth last night were no longer moving.

  He took a peek outside and noticed that the rain had stopped. For a moment, he was so excited that his prayer had worked that he almost woke Lorena up with his giddiness, but there was something outside that wasn’t there before. There was a golf cart.

  A man covered in dry blood burst outside one of the homes in front of the school. Then, almost in unison, two more men charged outside of the building next door. Rowan didn’t recognize them, but his suspicions of who they might be were confirmed when he saw Wayne climb out of a broken window. Anthony soon followed, and shortly after, they each disappeared into another store or home on the street.

  Lorena was up the moment that Rowan alerted her. They both peered out the window to check out their surroundings, and they couldn’t believe how blazingly fast the plague doctors were moving between different buildings. It was only a matter of time before the elementary school was going to be checked.

  “Are they looking for us?” asked Lorena.

  “Maybe,” said Rowan, packing their things. “They could be out here just killing every suspected infected person they find—and we’re on their list.”

  Lorena grabbed her backpack and waited by the door. “I can run now, I think. My leg doesn’t hurt that much.”

  “You sure?” Rowan took a look at the golf cart outside and thought about stealing it, but there was no way they were going to get it to work without the keys.

  “I’ll try,” said Lorena. “It’s not like we have a choice.”

  Rowan waited until the plague doctors stormed into their next target. He motioned Lorena to go, and he followed her out to the parking lot of the elementary school. Before they could even map out where they needed to go, they heard gunshots.

  “Lorena, I’m going to need you to lead,” said Rowan. “I don’t want to leave you behind. You’ll set our pace. Just head toward t
he freeway.”

  “Okay.”

  She gritted her teeth and went off in a sprint. Her leg was still tender, and she wasn’t quite sure what her wound looked like underneath the bandage. It didn’t hurt like it did nearly two weeks ago, but there was no mistaking the burning pain that radiated from the bite. She endured it for a couple of miles before she was forced to stop.

  “Is it bleeding?” asked Rowan.

  Lorena took a look at the bandage. There was a bit of blood that seeped through, but it didn’t bother her too much. “It’s only bleeding a little bit.”

  “We can stop. If Wayne and the others are literally checking every house and store that they can, then we have some time.”

  “No. We keep going. We’ll go until it gets dark.”

  Rowan led the way this time. He supported Lorena with his arm even though she insisted that she was okay to walk. After a couple of hours, they ended up in Salinas, where they then followed a long dirt road that led to a small church. It was obscured by a cluster of dead trees, which made it the perfect refuge for the night.

  There was nothing in the church worth taking. Rowan did find a well-detailed, small figurine of Jesus Christ preaching to the Twelve Apostles, and though he wished to give it to his mother, he left it where it belonged. It still felt wrong to steal from a church even though nobody was using it anymore. Someone somewhere was watching him, even if it did ultimately end up just being his own conscience.

  “Do you think they’ll find us here?” asked Lorena. She tried to peek through the stained glass windows, but it was too dark. “Do you think they’ll ever find us?”

  Rowan sat down at one of the pews. “Wayne knows where we’re going, and if he really is looking for us, then he’ll be in San Jose, too.”

  “But… San Jose is big, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” said Rowan. “So I doubt they’ll find us there.”

  His doubts, though, were little more than hopes. There was a nagging voice in the back of his head that made him suspect that something bad was going to happen. From all of his years of experience in life, he knew that it would be wrong to expect anything else. It didn’t matter that home was so close now. It was simply a tease—a trick. For Rowan, a taste of happiness always came with bitterness. He had learned to foresee it.

  As he stared up at the crucifixion of Jesus in the center of the room, he remembered something. Just a week before he was sent to the mental hospital, he had a made a promise to Caitlyn. It wasn’t anything too serious. He told her that he was going to write a silly story about them being reborn as a pair of Siamese cats and then they would become the favored house pets in some rich family’s mansion, where they could finally spend the rest of their lives being lazy like they always wished they could be. Caitlyn was in a bad mood that day, so Rowan wanted to cheer her up. Despite it being a ridiculous idea for a story, it made her smile, so Rowan promised to write it for her. His last hope for the night was that he would still be able to do that.

  17

  Rowan and Lorena returned to the road at dawn. After a long and grueling day, they arrived in a place just twenty miles away from San Jose—and things looked dire here.

  The town’s last remnant was a mall. Many of the structures had crumbled, but some of the department stores and walkways survived. Rowan wanted to continue forward to see if San Jose, too, had indeed been destroyed, but Lorena convinced him to stay. It was no good to show up at home while it was dark and dangerous. He couldn’t lose his patience now. It was critical for him to keep his emotions in check if he wanted to survive this final stretch.

  They sought shelter in the abandoned mall. A hint of moonlight shone through the broken skylight to provide them with enough sight to navigate the cluttered food court, and though all of the restaurants had been wrecked and ravaged, there remained a few dining tables for Rowan and Lorena to take a seat and rest at.

  “You think we’ll make it to your home tomorrow?” asked Lorena.

  “No doubt.”

  “Have you thought about what you might say to your family?”

  Rowan looked up at the obscured sky. “I never thought about that. There’s too much to talk about, you know?”

  “How about starting where you first left off with them?”

  “That’s assuming they’re okay.”

  Lorena moved over to the side of the table that Rowan was sitting at. “Let’s say that they are. Is there anything you’d make sure to tell them?”

  “I’d tell them sorry, first.”

  “For what?”

  “For leaving them. For doing something that separated me from them in the first place.”

  “I wouldn’t tell them that,” said Lorena. She kicked an empty plastic cup that had become the home to some kind of white mold. “Do you really think that the first thing they want to hear from you is sorry?”

  “Maybe. I still feel like they’ll be mad at me for getting into this predicament in the first place. I mean, seriously? A mental hospital?”

  “If they’re angry with you, then they’ll tell you, won’t they? You don’t need to apologize to them for that if they’re not angry about it.”

  “It’s always best to get ahead of things. That way, it’s more sincere.”

  “You’re not wrong… but still.”

  Rowan sighed. “I know you just want me to be a little bit more positive. You don’t have to say it for me to get it.”

  “Yeah, but I know it’s not easy. Most times, I don’t feel very positive either.”

  “It’s not as if I’m not trying, you know?”

  “I know.”

  “I see your point, though,” he said. “Maybe I don’t need to tell them I’m sorry.”

  “You know your family better than I do. Maybe it’s me who’s wrong.”

  “We could both be right.”

  Lorena thought about it for a moment. “Maybe you can tell them that you love them, first. And you missed them. I think that also shows that you’re sorry about what happened, right?”

  “I like that.”

  “You do?”

  “I do,” said Rowan. “I think I’ll use that.”

  Lorena leaned on his shoulder. “I’m glad.”

  Rowan almost dropped to his knees. The sight of his city, with his exiled eyes, seemed like a dream to him now despite the fact that it was right in front of him. He recognized the cracks in the pavement even though there were new ones. The billboard ads had been torn and ripped to shreds, but he remembered the injury lawyers, the festivals, and the community colleges that called out to him every time he passed them. He could even identify the spot where he and Caitlyn had gotten ice cream just a few months ago—but only rubble remained. Everything was both different and the same.

  He and Lorena had reached the edge of San Jose just before the sun emerged over the horizon. It had a murky shine today, and though there were almost no clouds, perhaps a misty veil endured from the storm. It was evident that the heavy rain had reached San Jose, too. Everywhere, bodies still had their soaked clothing on. Deep puddles had formed all over the roads and sidewalks, and there was even a large crater filled with debris and greyish-brown water. Those who had found shelter underneath some overhang still looked to have passed away, but it was unclear as to what they had died from. Their remains could have been there for a month, for a week, or even from just a few hours ago.

  Rowan wondered if he was going to come across the dead body of someone he knew. What if he passed by Marcus’ corpse? Would he be happy to see that? Maybe. But that was the least of his worries. He didn’t have the energy to be concerned about the lives of people he hated. Here, in San Jose, he had to save every last ounce of his vigor for the people he loved. If he had nothing left, then he wouldn’t be enough for his family anymore. He had to be much more than just bitterness and resentment—he had to be grateful, earnest, and warm. How could Caitlyn and his family accept him if he was anything else?

  With apprehension in his steps, R
owan did not have to walk for long before he ended up in his neighborhood, where the trees had shed their leaves and the street signs had collapsed to the ground. Stripped cars littered the streets, and flies buzzed around the many corpses. The siren that had been built at the end of his street survived, though, almost as if it had been unused. All it was now was a relic of the fear that it instilled.

  “This place looks just as bad as everywhere else,” said Rowan, stepping over a body covered in maggots.

  Lorena let his comment hang in the air. She knew that there was nothing she could say to make this situation any better. They made their way past the crumbled apartment complexes, hoping to find a shred of life, but it was completely quiet aside from the cracking and crunching of leaves underneath their feet. Echoes of the living no longer remained. There weren’t any shelters, fortifications, or wandering infected. It was like this place was obliterated the day the bombs were dropped.

  Only a few apartments were still standing, but even these were worn down and falling apart. Almost all of their windows were shattered, and much of the glass was still scattered all over the pavement. The apartments looked so sad and uninviting, and Rowan couldn’t bear to look at them for long—but he had to. He had to get into his home.

  “There it is,” said Rowan, looking at the second floor of one of the apartment complexes. “It’s still here.”

  He sprinted up the stairs and knocked on the door as hard as he could. Lorena struggled to catch up to him, but once she did, she couldn’t do anything but watch helplessly as the boy hammered on and on until his knuckles turned red.

  “Mom? Dad? Allie?” he yelled. “It’s Rowan—I’m back!”

  Lorena grabbed his arm, but he shook her off. “Rowan—”

  “I—I don’t know if they just decided to leave this place or what. It’s not safe here. They must’ve evacuated and left me some kind of note inside just in case I came back, right?”

  “Yeah,” said Lorena softly. “That’s probably it. But how are we going to—”