Barren Waters - The Complete Novel: (A Post-Apocalyptic Tale of Survival) (16 page)

She scowled and stopped in her tracks. When he turned to face her she’d planted her feet a foot apart and was standing, arms akimbo, a look of exasperation twisting her delicate features. He knew that look. Oh, how like her mother she truly was.

“I mean it, Dad. You said that just to get me talking. I’m not stupid. So I’m here. Talking. Now you owe me an explanation. What you said makes no sense. Your mother was Olivia and your father was Liam. Either you’ve been lying to me my entire life, or you’re lying to me now. Which horrible one is it?”

He turned from her and began walking again. “They weren’t my parents Sam. They found me. They found me, saved me, and adopted me, but they weren’t my true parents.”

“And you didn’t think to mention this to me? You didn’t think it was important?” she asked as she matched his strides. “Wait.” She shook her head “No. You’ve got to be lying. That can’t be right. Grandpa had diabetes like me. You guys always said I inherited it from him.”

“You didn’t. Strange, I know. But sometimes—as they say—truth is stranger than fiction. And yes, it’s completely unlikely that he’d suffer the same condition as my mother, but it’s true just the same. Your biological grandmother, my mother, also suffered from diabetes. You actually inherited it from her.”

He gave her time to reflect on things as they walked, and soon he began to enjoy the warmth of the sun on his back. It was a lot for her to digest. Hell, it was a lot for anyone. Susan had known, of course, but there’d never been a reason to tell Sam. They hadn’t meant to keep it a secret from her. It just hadn’t come up. Liam and Olivia were more than just adoptive parents to Jeremy. To him they were parents in every sense of the word. They’d loved him and he them in every way that ran just as deep as shared biology.

He couldn’t remember much of the day he’d met them. Flashes of red, the touch of his mother’s cold hand, the roundness and firmness of Olivia’s belly, and the bright red stippling of blood that feathered the policeman’s cheek. Other than that, the memories were similar to impressions, more akin to sensations. They were smells and colors, and bursts of sound. But to Jeremy, that wasn’t the day his life ended. It was the day it was saved.

Sam pressed him further, but her tone was gentler. “So you said your father killed himself. Shot…shot himself in the head.”

Jeremy nodded. “He did.”

“Dad…that’s…it’s horrible. Can you remember it?”

He sighed. “Not really. I remember Grandma Liv and Grandpa Liam more.”

He saw her brow furrow. “But what about your mother? So your father killed himself. How did you end up with Grandma and Grandpa instead of your real mother?”

He stopped and turned to her, caught the edge of her sleeve. This was truly the reason he’d brought it up in the first place. He swallowed past a lump in his throat.

“My father killed himself because my mother died in our car. Grandma once told me that she thought he must’ve felt culpable for her death. He may have even
been
somewhat culpable. We’ll never know. But Sam, my mother died of her diabetes. Back then, the way Liam and Olivia tell it, only the wealthiest of people could afford the best treatments. Society was crumbling then, and it was becoming harder and harder to find the means to treat her illness. People were beginning to raid stores and flee farther inland, away from the oceans. People were beginning to turn on one another, to steal from one another to serve their own needs. It was an ugly world. Many millions died of simple starvation, while scores of others died from diseases left untreated. Cancer, diabetes, heart disease—these are all death sentences if improperly treated.”

He suddenly sat. He didn’t know why. Just dropped hard to his rump in the middle of the street, as though he were a heavy stone cast into a pond.

Sam glanced to the right and then to the left as if someone might notice. “Dad, get up! You’re sitting in the middle of the road.”

“Oh I’m sorry. Am I embarrassing you? Do you think some cars are coming?” He crossed his legs and pulled her down beside him. “Sam, we need to make pledges to one another. But first, we need to see past this silence between us. Guilt and disgrace, though not illnesses, can be death sentences too. Look how they destroyed my biological father.” He took a breath and captured her reluctant hands, smoothing them inside his own. “Sam, I know you blame me for the death of your mother. I blame myself too.” His voice threatened to break as he pictured Susan’s face. “Damn it, Sam. I never should’ve opened that door. I never should’ve allowed your mother to put down that weapon. Perhaps I shouldn’t have made an acquaintance with Doctor Jack in the first place. Sam, don’t you see? We could play the ‘should’ game or the ‘what if’ game till the cows come home, but it won’t do us any good now. The only choice we have is to move forward as best we can. It all comes down to a choice. Either we choose to get up every day and move forward, or we choose to curl up in the shadows and live in the past.”

She pursed her lips and then opened them and spoke softly. “Move forward? How can you say that? Dad, I’m not just going to forget about her.”

“Moving forward doesn’t mean forgetting. Sam, I loved her too. I loved her since the day we met. But I’m not going to do to you what my father did to me. I wouldn’t do that. If I give up and quit trying, where does that leave you? If I roll over and refuse to speak, refuse to act, or to eat, then what happens to you?”

The lines above her brow smoothed and he hoped she was beginning to understand. She took a steadying breath and squeezed his hands. “Dad, you’re wrong. I don’t blame you for her death. Not necessarily. I’m just angry and I miss her. But what your father did to you was wrong. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

He nodded. “It
was
wrong. On so many levels. He gave up on me, but even more than that, he gave up on himself. He didn’t trust in his own ability to persevere. But sometimes when we persevere—sometimes when we push through the darkest of times, we find the brightest of lights at the end. I’m not saying that our lives will ever be better than they were with Mom. I’m only saying that if we don’t give up, they could perhaps be good again. Right? Good in a different way.”

She dropped his hands and stared at her open palms. “I can’t imagine things ever being good again, but I understand what you’re saying.”

“That’s all I can ask for.”

She lifted her gaze. “I’m sorry dad. I still wish you would’ve told me everything before this, but I’m sorry to hear about your parents. I think your dad should’ve tried harder.”

He held her gaze with the fierceness of a lion protecting his den. He didn’t want to scare her, but this was important.

“Samantha, part of trying hard and of soldiering on is having a proper plan. That’s the best lesson I ever learned from Grandpa Liam. He planned for every occurrence, every possible outcome. He was systematic and methodical in his approach to life and I think it was these qualities more than anything else that are responsible for our lives here today.”

He lifted his hands to his head and massaged his temples as he pieced together his thoughts. “What I’m trying to say is that you and I need to develop a plan. Together. And the core of that plan needs to center around your illness. We lost so much in that fire. Your mother passed me the only disks she had in her pocket, and although we’d packed several more in the cart, they won’t last us forever. So I need you to cooperate with me. I need you to understand why I do what I do. I’m developing a plan for us, but I need your help. Sam, I would go to the ends of the earth to protect you, but I can’t do it alone. I need your help to persevere. Can you do that?”

He saw her eyes well with tears that didn’t spill. She rose up on her knees, leaned across the divide between them, and circled her arms around his neck. “I will, Dad. I will persevere. For Mom.”

He released a sigh. “Good. Now, let’s go to the library. I assume you still want to put me through the mental torture of the Twilight series?”

She pushed herself to her feet and dusted her kakis. “Yes, I suppose we can pick those up. But I really think I want to read Harry Potter all over again. Do you mind?”

He smiled. People often did that. Often they tried to recapture a moment by recreating it. It was a healthy part of the healing process, and one that he was happy to oblige.

“Yeah,” he agreed with a nod. “I think I’d like that.”

Humans could never accept the world as it was and live in it. They were always breaking it and living among the shattered pieces.

—Robin Hobb,
Blood of Dragons

“How you holding up Seth?” Jeremy called out from his position at the rear.

He watched the boy’s feet pedal furiously. The bike wasn’t set to the correct gear, and for some reason it refused to shift properly. He’d have another look at it tonight when they stopped for sleep. Yes, another blessed kiss of the fates had seen fit to deliver them a third bike. Well, Jeremy had always held the belief that once you committed to looking for something specific—once you were focused on that one thing, it would appear faster, but this was just his opinion. They’d found the third bike at one of the neighboring houses on Seth’s street, in the garage to be exact. It was a bit small for his frame and had needed a bit of work. The tires were flat, but thankfully whole, and the chain had begun to rust, but a bit of oil and elbow grease was all it had taken.

“Merlin,” Seth corrected over his shoulder. “It’s Merlin. And I’m doing fine.”

Sam’s scoff was audible above the whirring of their spinning tires. “No. We talked about this. It’s not
Merlin
. It’s Marlin. Merlin was not a kind of fish.”

“But I like Merlin!”

Jeremy groaned. He was tiring of this familiar conversation. “Pike, number please.”

She lifted her arm and peered at the inside of her wrist. “Eighty-eight.”

He pedaled faster, fell into place beside Seth, and rubbed his sweaty forehead against his shoulder. Although he’d planned to address them casually, his pulse was thundering in his ears.

“Okay guys. So we’ve passed into Memphis. Another mile ahead, I-55 North is going to cross the Mississippi River. Do you both feel up to doing it tonight or would you rather camp somewhere on this side and then bike across tomorrow morning?”

As he’d expected, Sam’s excitement couldn’t be contained.

“Today!” She glanced at the sun, low in the sky. “We’ve at least another two hours before dark. I think we should do it!”

Contrary to Jeremy’s expectations, Seth was more reluctant. It was unusual that he’d disagree with her. In the short week they’d spent together, he’d come to idolize Sam, and typically, whatever she wanted to do, he was right behind her, nipping at her heels like a puppy. But not this time. This time he was hesitant and his voice shook with alarm.

“There’s a river? How do we get across it?”

“We’ll be passing far above it on a very large bridge,” Jeremy reassured him. “We’ll make our way across and then camp far from it on the other side.”

His brow was creased with concern. “But I’m not supposed to go near water. Won’t we get sick?”

Sam decreased her pace and fell in beside them. “It can’t hurt us, Marlin. We have to cross it to get to the other side. Besides, it only makes you sick if you touch it or drink it.”

Jeremy assumed the lead.

“Everyone follow me. You’ll be fine Marlin.”

Actually, Jeremy had begun to smell the river some short time ago. It wasn’t that he feared for them to cross it. Sam was right; it wasn’t harmful if not ingested. He just didn’t want them to see the breadth of devastation. The polluted waters of the Mississippi were responsible for the death of the Gulf of Mexico. It had acted like a parasite for so many decades, a parasite or tumorous growth that attached to a healthy body and slowly leaked its poisons. The sight would be bad. It would actually be much worse than the Pacific Ocean in San Diego. Or so he hoped.

He fished through his pack and pulled out a granola bar. “Sam,” he called out, pulling alongside her. “Eat. Can you eat while we ride or do you want to stop?”

“I’m fine. I’m excellent at multi-tasking,” she commented with a wink.

He watched her rip into the top of the plastic with her teeth, and once again caught Seth staring at her with interest. He’d been curious about her illness from the very start.

“She’s like a robot,” he’d exclaimed with wide eyes. With a gentle touch he’d fingered the green florescent lettering of the blood sugar counter at her wrist and pulled back, startled, when she’d lifted her shirt to show him the device at her belly.

“You’re right. It is kind of like a robot,” she’d confirmed. “These devices keep me alive.”

From that time forward, Seth had taken an active role in trying to guess her sugars. He’d calmly pull on her arm when she appeared fuzzy, and from time to time, he’d surreptitiously glance at her number.

“Does it hurt?” he’d asked her once, his eyes lidded with sympathy.

“Not really. Only a bit when we change the disk.” She’d peered at her belly then, and met Jeremy’s gaze. “Which I’m afraid we’ll have to do soon. I’m at fourteen percent.”

Jeremy had nodded. “Yup. Four or five more days and we’ll load you back up Robot-girl.”

“I wanna watch!” Seth had chimed in with far too much enthusiasm.

It was endearing though, the way he doted on her and followed her. She was probably the first child he’d been around for years and she wasn’t even much of a child anymore. But more than his admiration for her or his curiosity of her condition, she’d given him something to focus on. Something other than the death of his mother. Seth was a strong boy. Clearly. Yet Jeremy knew he was still struggling with her death. He hadn’t answered many of their queries directly. Jeremy still hadn’t been able to glean the exact amount of time he’d spent alone in that Walmart, his mother’s spoiling corpse on the opposite end of the store, but judging by the level of decay, it’d been longer than was healthy for a boy his age. But Seth was a well-adjusted child. The zest he still had for life, and the buoyancy with which he tackled each daily task bespoke of a strong parentage. He was obviously loved in his youth, his character shaped and molded by devoted and adoring parents.

The three of them had buried Seth’s mother at the top of a gentle rise at Cedar Hills Cemetery in Scottsboro. It had been a quiet, sunny morning and Jeremy had dug the shallow grave in silence while Sam lay back against the hill, her arms and legs splayed in worship of the sun. Seth had grabbed a small hand shovel and was doing more to fill the hole than to hollow it out, but it’d been strangely pleasant and Jeremy had welcomed the chance to do something right for another.

They’d wrapped her body in soft blankets and Seth had draped her in what he said was her favorite shawl. They’d picked wildflowers, small handfuls of yellow celandines and purple dog violets. Sam had found clusters of baby blue eyes and Seth had argued fervently that a dandelion was indeed a flower and not a weed. Several sprigs of trumpet-shaped foxgloves in bright fuchsia had seemed to make the meager collection ample, and together they’d gathered around the fresh grave for a simple service. Seth had spoken of her love for her garden and her family, and he’d wished aloud that she’d somehow found his father up in heaven.

“I’d like to do a reading,” Sam stated proudly. “Something from Jules Verne.”

They’d made it to the Scottsboro library and she’d found Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, and she and Seth had become obsessed with it.

“All right,” Jeremy replied with a nod. “Let’s have it then.”

She cleared her throat.

“The sea is everything. It covers seven tenths of the terrestrial globe. Its breath is pure and healthy. It is an immense desert, where man is never lonely, for he feels life stirring on all sides. The sea is the only embodiment of a supernatural and wonderful existence. It is nothing but love and emotion.”

She lowered her book and gazed at him expectantly. He coughed into his fist and caught Seth’s confused expression.

“Hmmm,” he began. “Not sure about that one Sam. It’s undoubtedly a beautiful quote, but perhaps a bit obscure?”

“No it’s not,” she argued. “I guess I like to think that when we die we go to heaven—and for me, heaven would be a beautiful, sparkling ocean with red, blue, and yellow fish. Like the book? ‘With life stirring on all sides?’ ‘An ocean, its breath pure and healthy?’ Come on guys. Don’t you see? ‘
Heaven
would be love and emotion?”

She glanced from Jeremy’s face to Seth’s and back again, and scowling, she closed the book with a sharp snap. Jeremy heard Seth giggle from behind his hand.

“Well
I
thought is was beautiful. Beautiful and apt.”

“Oh it’s…beautiful all right,” Jeremy jibed gently. “No. Really. I mean it. I think it’s perfect. Thank you Sam.”

He smiled as he remembered that day. They’d actually shared a laugh at the top of that hill, a bit of merriment in an otherwise inauspicious occasion. It may have been at Sam’s expense, but she’d been a good sport. She hadn’t seemed to mind once she’d seen the corners of Seth’s mouth curve into a half smile.

“Dad, I think we’re here.”

He pulled himself from his reverie and focused on the entrance to the bridge just ahead.

“Ick!” Seth complained. “It smells terrible here.” His brow was wrinkled, his small hand squashed against his nose, and when that didn’t seem to help, he lifted the neck of his shirt and tried to breath through the fabric. His words were muffled. “Why is it so stinky?”

Jeremy put on a burst of speed and called out over his shoulder. “Because it’s dead and rotting. Come on let’s get across quickly and get away from here.”

He led them to the foot of the bridge and heard Seth skid to a halt. “It’s huge!” he exclaimed.

Jeremy frowned. “Yes. Huge. Too huge. Now let’s get across it.”

Behind him he heard the whir of their bikes as he edged onto the ramp of the massive steel structure. Weeds hadn’t completely destroyed the paving here and the road was still wide and smooth. He peered out over the immense body of water that stretched far in both direction and nearly gasped. It was worse than he’d expected. Much worse. Sam must have seen it too.

“Oh my God,” she breathed.

She pulled up behind him, swerving dangerously as the green ribbon of water caught her attention. Water? Jesus, could it even be called that anymore?             

“Sam, please watch where you’re going.” But even as he said the words, she veered off course again. He frowned and pulled to a stop. “Okay kids. If you’re not gonna pay attention to where you’re going, then let’s just walk the bikes so you don’t kill yourselves.”

They dropped from their bikes in silence and wheeled them to the pedestrian lane at the right of the bridge. There, he allowed them to kick down the stands and set their hands to the railing.

The water was nothing short of putrid. The three of them leaned out over the edge and tried to peer into its murky depths, but they couldn’t see past the surface skin of scum.

“I can’t even see the bottom,” Sam breathed.

“I can’t even see water,” Seth echoed.

Indeed, Jeremy thought sagely. The water was overrun with algae. It was a green field, a consistency similar to that of pea soup, and although he knew it wasn’t warm, it seemed, from his vantage point, to be a bubbling cauldron of filth. It was lumpy and glossy, a curdled consommé of bacteria and other waste products. Streaks of a red unknown contaminant veined through the green like an arterial pathway that ferried poisonous sewage through the agricultural soup. Clumps of dead grasses dotted the green along with clusters of non-biodegradable plastics and other decaying matter.

It broke Jeremy’s heart to look upon it.

Seth leaned out far over the edge and lifted a hand to his narrowed eyes as if that would allow him to see it more clearly. “Are there any fish in there?”

“Of course not silly,” Sam breathed. “There aren’t any fish anywhere. But especially not in there.” She crinkled her nose. “Dad, it doesn’t smell right. I mean it smells like trash, but something else too.”

She was right. The acrid smell scratched at the back of his throat and stung his eyes. He could just imagine what these vapors might be doing to their lungs. So what was it? Bleach? Fertilizer? Probably a combination of both and more. Abruptly he backed away from the edge.

“Let’s go guys.”

Wordlessly the three walked their bikes to the center of the road and began to pedal toward the far end of the bridge. An uneasy silence hung over them like a murky fog. He’d expected them to speak more of the river, or at the very least to pepper him with questions, but they must’ve been caught up in their own musings.

The journey across the bridge was silent but for the creaking of metal against metal as the bridge shifted with unseen movements of the earth. They passed beneath a sign that welcomed them to sunny Alabama, and Jeremy breathed a sigh. Yet another state behind him, yet another small win. But it was also another state in which he’d never set foot again. Not for the rest of his life. And that was a strange and humbling thing to ponder, he noted; a stream of consciousness that led to thoughts of mortality. One day this bridge would fall. One day even, humans would most likely become extinct, and this bridge would topple into the filthy river along with everything else. As he peered at the bilge that stretched north and south he couldn’t help but wonder if that was such a bad thing.

They were reaching the other side just as the sun dipped below the horizon and Jeremy was happy to put this leg of the journey behind them. It was actually quite uplifting when he thought about it. They’d crossed the Mississippi River! They were technically no longer in what was normally considered the eastern half of the United States. They’d make actual measurable progress. He began scouting out the turnoffs ahead. He’d try to take them as far as Bridgeport road where he had thought to find an old motel. They’d never stayed in a motel before and–