She was cut off by the deafening clangs of Rowan’s crowbar clashing with the doorknob. It was a forceful, almost never-ending barrage, and he hurled a scream with every blow. Eventually, the doorknob loosened up considerably and wobbled at the slightest touch, and after a couple of more swings, the children were able to get inside.
“Mom? Dad?”
Nobody answered. Rowan rushed into the bedroom, but no one was inside. In an instant, he began knocking over everything in sight—what had happened to his family? Where did they go? Had they gotten infected and lost their minds? Or, even worse, did they leave him behind without a second thought?
Lorena came into the room holding a piece of paper. She began to read its contents aloud, as she wanted to stop Rowan’s rage as quickly as she could. “Rowan, if you ever come back here—and I know you will—then please come find me, Duncan, and your sister. We’re going to be heading out to San Francisco a few hours from now. My brother and your sister have a couple of friends out there that want to meet up with us, so hopefully we’ll be safe when we get there.”
Rowan turned to look at Lorena and urged her to continue. She stared at him for a moment and tried to read the rest.
“Something happened to your parents when the bombs dropped. I think these bombs had something in them… something that hurts people in different ways. Allie said that their bodies decayed and it looked as if they had died years ago. She buried them out back and left some wooden grave markers with their names so you could find them. She’s really hurt right now, so I’m writing this letter on her behalf.”
Rowan turned pale. Were his parents really dead? No—no, they couldn’t be. He didn’t want to believe it. He refused to believe it.
“I don’t know where exactly we’re going to be when we get to S.F., but I know you’ll be able to find us. No matter when you read this… whether it’s a week or a month or a year from now, we’ll still be waiting for you, okay? We love you, and I hope to see you soon. Please take care. Caitlyn.”
Rowan rushed outside to the back of the apartment complex. It was only there that he realized the finality of his parents’ lives, as the graves that Allie had dug really were there. He sprawled out on the floor and drenched the soil with his tears before he was lifted by Lorena’s tight, comforting hand.
“None of this would’ve happened if I had been here,” he said.
He latched on to his mother’s grave marker and buried his face into the cross. “She’s never going to be able to see the things I was going to do.”
Lorena placed her hand gently on Rowan’s back, but he didn’t budge. He only pushed himself deeper into the cross, where he gasped for air in between his cries.
“She’s never going to see me become successful. She’s never going to see the fruits of her hard work. She’s never going to see me become a man—or even see me become happy.”
Rowan swung at the dirt with his crowbar. He wanted to stand and strike everything around him with all of his might, but he couldn’t get off the ground. His legs were heavy and weak and numb, and it was nigh impossible to separate him from his parents now that he was as close as he could possibly be with them.
Lorena wrapped her arms around Rowan and didn’t let go, even though he tried to push her off. He groaned in agony and embraced her just as tightly, and the two of them stayed that way until Rowan ran out of tears—many, many moments later.
They were quiet for a long time. Despite their commitment to silence, they were still communicating with each other. Tragedy was enough to connect their thoughts, and as they sat there together in the early morning stillness, memories of their parents came flooding through their minds. For Rowan, he remembered the pet goldfish his mother had gifted to him with the last bit of her paycheck, the haunted house his father had brought him and Allie to when they were children, and the spaghetti they ate as a family for five days straight because of the excess pasta at the food bank. Flashes of his childhood were interspersed with the future he would never have. His mother’s life story that he promised to write for her when he was smaller, his apology to his father for not once telling him that he loved him ever since he was six, and his time for them that he slowly lost as he grew older—Rowan would never be able to give these things to them anymore.
“I have so much to say,” he said weakly. “But now it feels like it’s too late.”
“You can say it now,” said Lorena.
“I just wish I could’ve said things when they mattered.”
“They still matter, Rowan. If not for your parents, then for you.”
The boy took in a long, measured breath. Lorena was right—he needed to say what he had been meaning to tell his parents for a long time even if the only ears who would hear him were his. His sorrow would only ferment and someday erupt in his face if he didn’t release it now. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to get rid of it all, but some is better than none.
“Mom, dad,” he said. “There’s a lot I’ve been wanting to tell you—and I need to tell it to you now. Maybe I’ve been too preoccupied with the idea of saving you both from an awful life that I never got the chance or time to really talk to you anymore.”
He looked over to his father’s grave. “You grew apart from Allie and me as we grew up. I don’t know why. Maybe life got harder for you—for all of us—and it made you distant from us. But that doesn’t mean that we stopped loving you. And I know you didn’t stop loving us, either.”
“You didn’t like to talk very much,” he continued, wiping a tear from his cheek. “But whenever you did, you always said something meaningful—something important. I still remember the first thing you said to me when I got to the hospital to see Mom. You hugged me and said that you wanted me to be big that day, because you didn’t think you could be big anymore. You left the room for a moment… but you came back, with all of your tears gone and washed away. You told me that everything would be okay, and that you would take care of Mom. And you did. I should’ve appreciated everything you’ve done for our family instead of acting like I was the only one who could help us.”
“Mom,” said Rowan, turning back to his mother’s grave. “I hope you never forgot that I loved you, too. I just feel like I never said it enough. You deserved better than how the world has treated you all your life. You worked so damn hard to make sure that Allie and I were happy, that sometimes, you would forget that you needed to be happy, too.”
He held in a sob. “You built me a world better than one I could ever create by myself. I can’t even imagine myself going through all the pain, all the struggle, all the long nights without rest that you went through. You sacrificed every part of you—your time, your energy, and your dreams—just to give us a chance to succeed in this world. You left your home and your family behind in the Philippines just to give us a better opportunity in America. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to do that.”
“You never lost faith in me,” he said, unable to hold in his tears anymore. “Even when I would lose faith in myself. You always knew I could do anything so long as I put my whole heart into it, and I guess my heart hasn’t been in much of anything for a while. But it will be—maybe not now, maybe not soon, but someday. I just want things to be happy again. I don’t know what I’ll do if they aren’t.”
He wanted to say more, but his body wouldn’t let him. His cries were just too powerful to stop now. Deep down, he knew that saying these things wasn’t enough. It wasn’t just words that he needed to tell his parents, it was actions that he needed to do with them. He wanted to be able to go out for one last birthday dinner with them, or maybe finally go to the supermarket and actually tell his mother and father what he wanted to eat that week. His mom always knew what he wanted, though, but he wanted to be involved in the decision regardless. He wanted to be involved with them. So much of his existence had been spent on toiling away at a chance to improve his family’s life, but in the process, he might have just eroded its brightness away himself. He couldn’t forgive hims
elf for that.
After another moment of reflection, Rowan spoke to Lorena. “We’re leaving tomorrow morning to find Caitlyn and Allie. I just want to stay here with my parents for just one more day before we go.”
Lorena nodded. There was a shroud of darkness in Rowan’s eyes that she couldn’t hope to banish, and she wished that it wouldn’t grow any further. What if they couldn’t find Caitlyn and Allie? What would happen then? Rowan’s world was even more fragile than the earth around him. If it broke beyond its already nearly irreparable state, then it might never recover. She was afraid for him. She knew how much hurt he had. When her father died, the only thing that was keeping her afloat was her willingness to see things as better than they really were. But Rowan wasn’t like her. He saw things much differently.
Lorena held on to the only sliver of hope that lingered between the both of them. This hope wasn’t much more than a prayer, however. And in this desperate prayer, she prayed for a better day for Rowan, and for herself, she prayed that she would be able to help him.
18
In the morning, Rowan left his apartment and sat at the bottom of the steps to listen to the gentle clinks of the wind chimes above one last time. He peered down the hazy street in search of something other than dread, yet he saw nothing. The mist may have obscured many of the monstrosities that happened here, but Rowan knew that once it cleared, he would be back in a world that was just as bleak and gloomy as yesterday. This moment in time was only a short reprieve. There was no hiding. There was no escape. He had to confront everything with strength and vigor—both of which he knew that he no longer had.
Lorena emerged from the apartment above. After one last visit to Rowan’s parents’ graves, they set forth on a trek north to Oakland, where they arrived in the late evening. They were already desensitized to the crumbled ruins and litter that prevailed throughout the entire city, as their travels had led them to assume that every city in California had been completely decimated by the bombs and by scavengers and sick people. What they were not prepared for, however, was the sight of a small group of people huddled over a fire outside of a sports arena. It just didn’t seem like much of anyone was around anymore, so it was jarring to see them there. These squatters looked rather peaceful, but Rowan and Lorena simply couldn’t know whether they really were or not. They were better off just ignoring them and minding their own business.
The children walked more in one day than they ever had before. The sun looked like it had about another three or four hours left to give them, so they pressed forward to the Bay Bridge—the last place they needed to cross in order to get to San Francisco. Rowan couldn’t imagine having to walk back from the other side, because that would mean he had come all this way just to fail. There was no turning back now. Once they crossed this bridge, they needed to find Caitlyn and Allie—or it was all for nothing.
They snaked through a maze of cars in order to pass through the toll booths. Almost everybody had abandoned their vehicles, aside from the few who died with their seatbelts still on—or the dead families who desperately tried and failed to use their SUVs to push through the enormous barrier of cars. Corpses were also scattered across the highway, their bodies picked clean by scavengers who happened to pass by.
Rowan wondered how long it had been since people last crossed the Bay Bridge. It was once one of the busiest bridges in North America, but it was now reduced to a breeding ground for death and decay and silence and stillness. It had become so cluttered with destruction that they could barely spy the ocean in the distance.
“How far does this bridge go?” asked Lorena.
“Pretty far,” said Rowan. “But I think we can get to the end before the sun is down.”
They followed the palm trees down the median strip for a few minutes before they ended up on the actual bridge itself. The sun, defying Rowan’s statement, had already begun to dip below the horizon. Picking up the pace, Lorena led the way until they arrived at the first set of towering suspension cables, which she stopped to stare at in awe.
“I’ve never seen something like this before,” she said.
Rowan sidled past a truck and looked up at the immense structure above. Despite the eradication of all life on the entire road, the bridge itself did not look worn down at all. It was as if it wanted to continue living—to carry all these burdens, all these tragedies, and all these hopes for the rest of time.
“You’d think that this entire bridge would just collapse with all of this weight on it,” said Rowan. “It’s kind of amazing.”
Lorena slowly spun around in a circle to examine the beauty of her surroundings. There wasn’t much she could really see, though, as a heavy fog began to envelop them as they walked further and further along the bridge.
“Do you think this bridge will always be here?” she asked.
“Some things can hold the weight of the world, and some things can't. We won't really know unless it breaks down.”
As they pushed on, almost nothing in front of them was visible anymore. The fog had thickened, and Rowan found himself wiping the cumbersome moisture off of his face every few seconds. It now seemed like a bad idea that they didn’t just find some shelter to settle in for the night at Oakland—but Rowan was restless. He wanted to find Caitlyn and Allie. Even though he and Lorena knew not to travel in the dark, they couldn’t help it now. They needed to get over this bridge and get to San Francisco before they could even think of stopping. It just didn’t seem safe enough out here in the open.
Once they finally made it to the end of the bridge, they were assaulted by the sight of destitute ruins. What had become of the world had become of the city, too—but they had to hold on to their imaginary hope, their hope that something great awaited them, something happy. But it looked as if nothing would be found here.
Lorena suddenly froze in place and grabbed Rowan’s arm. “Do you see that?”
He tightened his gaze. “Someone’s over there,” he said, holding her back.
“What do we do?”
“We keep going.”
“Are you sure?”
“Just stay right behind me. I’ll handle whatever it is.”
The figure matched their vigilance by approaching them with caution. Neither the children nor the figure seemed to want to confront the other, as they were all stuck in a sort of dance that kept them obscured in the dark, dense fog. In the midst of this uneasy waltz, the wind blew away enough of the shroud to reveal a shadowed man underneath.
“Mind if I ask you some questions?” he asked.
Rowan eyed the gun situated in the man’s holster. “We’re just trying to get through. I’m looking for family.”
“I’ve got to ask you some questions, first.”
“For what purpose?”
“I just can’t let you into this city unless you answer some questions.”
“Listen,” said Rowan, slowly pulling out his crowbar. “I didn’t come this far to be stopped by someone like you.”
“I’m going to have to ask you to turn around. I won’t let myself be threatened.”
“So that’s it? You just stand around here and tell people to fuck off if they don’t answer your questions? What if I did answer them? Would my answers even be satisfactory enough for you? I won’t let some gatekeeper judge whether or not I’m allowed to see the people I love.”
“Just leave. I don’t want any trouble.”
Rowan’s legs lurched forward without warning. The man staggered back and placed his hand on his gun, but Rowan was able to strike him in the wrist before he could turn off the safety. Panicked, the man raised his arms in an attempt to block Rowan’s next attack, but the sheer force of Rowan’s blow broke his arms apart. The boy swung again, although this time, he narrowly missed as a result of being thrown off balance by Lorena’s screams.
“Stop!”
As Rowan turned, the man tackled him to the ground and began bashing him in the face. Almost instantly, the impact caused his vision to
grow cloudy, and he wasn’t sure now if the blurry figure approaching him was Lorena rushing to his aid. Soon, everything went black, and the last thing he heard before passing out was another cry from the distance.
Rowan opened his eyes. He was met with the soft gaze of an old woman who was patting his sore forehead with a cold towel.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked, backing away to the edge of the bed he was lying down on. His eyes darted around—Lorena was nowhere to be seen, and there was a locked door in the opposite corner of the small, cramped room.
“Calm down,” said the woman, casually removing a flowery barrette from her silver hair. “There’s no need to be frantic. I’m here to help you. My name’s Lily. One of our people really messed up and beat you senseless.”
She placed the towel into a bowl. “I apologize for that, by the way. Zack explained what happened and he was reassigned a different job after we brought you here. The purpose of those questions isn’t to turn people down but to figure out their intentions. We try to offer shelter and help to those who need it. We’ve got someone else at that post to make sure that the questions are clearly expressed in a way that shows we’re trying to help people, not antagonize them.”
Rowan sat up and looked around the room again. “If you’re trying to help me, then where’s Lorena? The girl I was with?”
“She’s safe. We’ve separated you both because we’re checking to see if either of you are sick. More people are infected than you imagine, you know.”
“We don’t have the time for that. I need to get out of here to find my family.”
“Both of you still need to be checked first,” said Lily. “I can go find one of our experts to speed up the process if you’re that worried, but you can’t leave until you’re checked.”
She stood up and put the bowl on the end table next to the bed. As she left, she made sure to lock the door from the outside, and it was clear to Rowan that this room was meant to be some sort of a temporary—if not permanent—jail.
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