Dust (13 page)

I was able to get out one shrill, ‘Help!’ before Mark’s huge hand cascaded down to my throat.

He lifted me from the ground, and I dropped my metal rod. My legs kicked, I fought as best as I could. Mark shouted something at me, but I couldn’t hear him through the blood that rushed to my ears. Then with the emergence of a cloud of dust behind Mark, he dropped me. His arms went out and he stumbled a little to the left, when he did, I saw Davy.

I tried to tell Davy to run, but the words wouldn’t come out. Any injury I sustained, any hurt I experienced was second to the fact that Mark had turned and focused on my child.

I sought my metal rod, and lifted it. When I looked up, Davy had grabbed another chunk of concrete, but neither Davy nor myself were fast enough. Like a madman on a mission, Mark took hold of my son and threw him as if he weighed nothing.

“You son of a bitch!” I bolted his way swinging out the rod. “You son of a bitch.” I cracked that rod hard across his back, but Mark did not go down. He spun around, grabbed hold of me, and yanked the rod from my grip. He had me. Hand holding on to the metal weapon, his arm swung back, revving up like a warrior with an arrow. Ready to throw, to plunge. But in his fast outward motion, his arm halted. Something stopped him.

I heard Davy cry out, a painful, heartbreaking, ‘No!”

My entire being trembled, and when I saw, I thought my world had exploded all over again. Sam had brought an end to Mark’s attack of me ... bodily. The end of the metal rod had impaled Sam center of his chest.

Sam’s arms went out, his body jerked and blood flowed from his mouth. His eyes made contact with mine, trying to covey some sort of message.

“Sam,” I wept.

Mark looked at what he had done, and then he took hold of the metal rod again.

“No!” I cried out. “Don’t pull it out!”

Too late.

Mark pulled the rod from Sam’s chest and Sam’s eyes never left mine as he fell in slow motion, face first to the ground.

I was still screaming out, “no!’ as I tried to get up. My body was out of control, and my head spun in confusion. Mark raged my way, too fast for me to move, to duck. The metal rod came cascading down ...

Bang!

Mark froze. His head cocked up, and a slow trickle of blood rolled down his face from the bullet hole in his forehead. The rod dropped and then so did Mark.

I could not make heads or tails out of anything at that moment. I wasn’t comprehending that Davy was fine, it didn’t dawn on me that Burke had shot Mark, all I could think about was Sam. On hands and knees I scurried to him. Hoping against all hope that he was alive.

Sam didn’t move.

“Oh, God. Oh, God.” Afraid to touch him, my shaking hands hovered over his shoulders. Sam’s back was covered in blood. I could barely peep out his name through my tears. “Sam. Sam.”

Davy was right next to me. He was hysterical and was saying something I wasn’t able to hear.

“Let me.” Burke said in a whisper, then crouched down, inching me back. He took hold of Sam, and slowly turned him over. I watched as Burke’s hand moved to Sam’s neck, and then his eyes—glossed over—rose sadly to me. “Jo. Jo ... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

A scream erupted from me, long, aching and loud. I remember Burke reaching out for me, but that was the last thing I remember of that moment.

14. Where Now?
 

Sam was gone. He was really gone. A hole larger than the one in my living room was blown through my soul. It was incomprehensible. Had I not witnessed it with my own eyes, denial would be my direction. A part of me still didn’t want to believe it. How? How could Sam have died? My entire being screamed out, ‘Oh my God, what am I going to do?’ Sam and I had never been apart for long, and his death would be the farthest distance imaginable.

It was wrong. It wasn’t fair. It was Sam.

Sam.

No funeral. No viewing. A reverend didn’t say a prayer. No one said anything, we were all too speechless and in shock. One minute I was seeking help for him, the next we were putting him in the ground. That fast.

A humongous fight erupted right after Sam had died. I swore Burke was close to shooting Dan as well. He called Dan a coward and questioned why Davy a teenager, and Sam, a sick man, were out helping me, when Dan was able bodied. He blamed it on Dan. Dan blamed it on Burke, telling him he should have just gone with me to get Sam help. They were screaming at each other, venting their rage and sadness. Blame here. Blame there. Blame this. Blame that. They blamed everything but the one person they should have.

Me.

I was the one who was defiant. I left the shelter for help. I got myself in trouble. It was me. My fault.

The battle that raged between the two men was halted by my words and my daughter’s sobbing.

Poor Matty. Any progress made over the previous days was out the window. She curled in a ball, and steady for two hours, whimpered and cried out for her father. Over and over. “Daddy. Daddy.”

There was no consoling her. Davy was in shock, and remained silent. For security and comfort, he held on to Simon like a teddy bear. My family was in disarray.

A small speck of brightness made it into the madness of the day. Craig and Burke had success. Though they did not find Hebba, Rod and Nicky were alive. The only unfortunate part was, that Rod and Nicky’s safe arrival was jaded by the fact that Sam had been killed not one hour earlier.

Burke and Craig told of an unsuccessful search for Hebba, and how they sought the next person—Rod. Burke and Craig discovered him holed up for safety’s sake at his place of employment. It was after Rod was deemed absolutely fine, that Burke told me he felt uncertain, uneasy, and he didn’t trust that I would stay put. He left Craig and Rod to search for Nicky, and he came back—in the nick of time, too.

Physically Nicky was unscathed, but mentally she was as bad as Matty, Davy or myself. The news of Sam’s death worsened her. She sputtered words, not sentences, and all she wanted to do was sleep.

I was so very grateful for Rod’s presence. I needed him. He was my friend, and one of the only people who could bring a smile to my face, no matter what the circumstances. He had a way with words. Of course, a lot of that was because he was a writer. He knew exactly what to say and how. Another reason I was grateful for Rod, was because Rod was never without his fanny pack filled with prescription nerve medication. He had an ample supply; a variety of calming drugs that he boasted would cover any occasion. He accredited his fanny pack of pills for his immediate survival after the bombs. Then I accredited his fanny pack for my making it through that day.

Rod gave me one Valium, and that not only calmed me some, it made me sleep deep and long. The rest I desperately needed.

I woke hours later with Matty curled up by my side. She was sound asleep, so was Davy, Simon, and everyone else. Except Burke. I knew he wouldn’t be sleeping, and that was a good thing. I needed to speak to him. Through all that had happened, he and I didn’t have a chance to sit ‘one on one’. I would steal that chance while I had it.

Thirsty, and not feeling my best, I had a few sips of water, then washed my face with the sanitizer gel. It always seemed to make me feel refreshed. Grabbing two strips of beef jerky, I searched for Burke.

He wasn’t on the steps, then I recalled him saying that since the radiation levels had fallen, he would do his night watch upstairs. So I went there.

I called out as a forewarning, then I made my way to the living room. It was the strangest of sights. As if the hole in my living room wasn’t odd enough, the newest vision was going to be a doozy to top. Because there wasn’t much of a wall, Burke was able to sit in my living room and on my porch at the same time. The car was gone. The openness to the night was seen, and Burke sat before a small campfire.

“You’re not ... you’re not burning contaminated wood, are you?” I asked softly as I walked toward Burke.

“Nah. I got this from the basement.”

“I see you got rid of the car.”

“Wasn’t too tough,” Burke said. “Plus, I hope you don’t mind, I cleared out a few more bricks from this wall ... ” He exhaled as he gazed to where the window used to be. “Yep. Now it’s an indoor-outdoor deck. What do you think?”

“I think it’s gonna take some getting used to, having a campfire in my living room.”

“Pretty cool though.” Burke pulled up a crate next to him. “Sit with me, Jo.”

“That’s why I’m here.” I sat down. “Jerky?” I extended him one.

“Thanks.” Burke took it.

“Everyone’s asleep. It’s not even nine. Can you believe that?” I made idle conversation.

“Everyone had a rough day.” He broke his jerky. “Everyone. How ... how are you?”

“I’m doing.”

There was silence, then Burke grunted and rubbed his hand over his face with frustration. “God. I can’t believe this has happened. I can’t. I’m sorry, Jo. I am so ... ”

“Burke.”

“No, I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “If I would have just went with you. If I didn’t go. If I came back just a little sooner.”

“Stop it.” I grabbed his arm. “Just stop. All the ‘what ifs’ in the world aren’t gonna change what happened, no matter how badly we wished it could. It’s not your fault, Burke.”

“It’s not yours either, Jo.”

“I feel like it is.”

“I think for a time being, we’re all gonna be blaming ourselves.” He paused. “Well, maybe not Dan.”

I smiled slightly.

“However,” Burke continued. “I think it’s normal. But really, Jo. No one is to blame. Things ... ”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Burke asked.

“Don’t say it. Don’t say, ‘Things happen for a reason.’”

“How do you know I was gonna say that?”

“Because I know you.”

“Well, I wasn’t,” Burke said.

“Yes, you were.”

“No, I had something else to say.”

“Fine, then say it.”

“Fine.” He took a deep breath. “Things ... things happen for a reason.”

I growled. “I knew it.”

“They do, Jo. Like it or not. And here’s something else that you may not want to hear.”

“What’s that?” I asked, resting my face against my hand.

“As fucked up as this sounds, things in this world are different. Circumstances are different. We, no matter how bad we feel, we’re gonna have to get past this. Move on.”

“Don’t you think you could have waited a few days before you said that?”

“Nope.” Burke shook his head with an assured look. “Because we have nothing anymore to fall back on. We can only move ahead, that’s our only direction. There’s too much to do. You planned a lot. You can put your grief to work. Work it out of you. But we can’t have you being a mourning fuckin’ Mary. It won’t be good for you, the kids, or the morale of anyone around you. Understand?”

“Mourning fucking Mary?”

Burke grunted. “You get what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do. Thanks.” I sighed out. “I’ll still miss him.”

“Me too,” Burke said sadly.

“Burke? I’m sorry you didn’t find Hebba.”

“So am I.”

I glanced at him with a puzzled look. “Really?”