Barren Waters - The Complete Novel: (A Post-Apocalyptic Tale of Survival) Page 10

  He palmed the small bottle with unbridled excitement and slipped it into his pocket. Sam was lucky enough to have the blood sugar indicator beneath her skin. He knew the pills were weakening, but also knew if they’d lost any of their potency he’d be able to judge the results right away. Too bad there was only one bottle.

  He edged past the dead man’s booted foot and slipped out the door into the dark store. As he followed Sam’s beacon of light, he passed the baby clothes and lawn furniture, picked up a box of plastic forks, and was suddenly stilled by a short, yet sharply resonant blast.

  “Sam!” he yelled desperately as he ran toward her light. What the hell was that? Had it been a whistle? “Sam, are you all right?” he called out as he crisscrossed and wove between scattered debris.

  “Back here! Dad, hurry.” she returned. She sounded excited, the tone of her voice higher than normal.

  His steps echoed loudly in the large store. Where was she? He weaved in and out of aisles of paint, bags of long dehydrated garden sod, and useless house décor, then rounded the corner of the sports equipment aisle. Soccer balls rolled lazily down the linoleum path, as if angrily disturbed after years of quiet slumber. Jeremy stopped short, his eyes widening. “Sam?”

  There she was, crouched low at the end of the aisle. He edged forward slowly and narrowed his eyes in an effort to make sense of the hulking shadows. The beam of her flashlight splashed across the cowering figure of a small boy.

  “Hey,” he heard her say in a soft voice. “Do you want to come out now?”

  Jeremy advanced a few short steps, and the boy’s eyes darted his way and grew round with fear. Stopping immediately, Jeremy backed up a step.

  “It’s okay, son. My name is Jeremy, and this is my daughter Sam. Are you hurt? Sick? Can we can help?”

  He hazarded a half step and the boy flinched. He was small. He could be no older than eight or nine, and in his small hands he clutched a wicked pair of garden shears, the size and length of which only accentuated his slight form. They appeared sharp in his trembling hands and quickened Jeremy’s pulse.

  “Sam, please be careful.”

  “He won’t hurt us, Dad.”

  Of course she’d think that. Calmly, Jeremy duplicated his daughter’s non-threatening posture, dropped to his knees, crawled on his hands, and came to rest just behind her. Upon closer inspection, the boy’s skin was quite dirty, and he was dangerously emaciated. Jeremy cursed himself for leaving the food outside. He ripped open the package of dried peas he’d found and pushed them toward the boy.

  “For you. You hungry?” He lifted a cupped hand to his mouth and repeated, “To eat. For you to eat.”

  The boy’s eyes darted between Jeremy and Sam and came to rest on the large packet of food and flashed with longing.

  “It’s okay,” Sam encouraged. “You can have it.” She edged ever closer, pushing the peas in front of her like a chest of gold, and Jeremy felt an intense discomfort in the pit of his stomach. She was too close to those blades and he tugged on her boot.

  “That’s far enough, Sam.”

  She seemed irritated as she peered over her shoulder. “He’s scared of you not me.”

  “I’m scaring him? I’m not the one holding those blades.”

  She scowled and turned back to the child. “Don’t mind him,” she advised as she raised a thumb over her shoulder. “He’s not scary. Trust me. He’s a wimp.” She leaned forward and nudged the bag of food across the floor so that it came to rest near his toes.

  Jeremy sighed and rolled back to sit on his rump as Sam tried a different tack. “Do you like Harry Potter?” The boy gave a solemn nod and inched closer to the food. “Because I’ve got one of the books and we can pick up more if you’d like. I’d be happy to read one to you. Or you could come to the library with us and pick out a book for yourself. Can you read?”

  The boy nodded again, his eyes lingering on the peas with unconcealed longing.

  Jeremy surveyed the child’s crisp clean clothing, which cut an interesting contrast to his squalid skin. He watched the boy lean forward and snatch the bag of peas with a clumsy lurch, then scuttle backward and rip into its contents. He scooped the food into his mouth with dirty hands and Jeremy made note of a Walmart tag hanging off the sleeve of his shirt. Similar tags dangled from the waist of his pants and the laces of his shoes. So he’d been here a while, Jeremy presumed. Long enough that he’d thought to explore the contents of the store and abandon his inferior belongings for newer ones.

  “Dad, do you have any water?”

  “Oh,” he startled with a nod.

  Lowered the pack from his back he rifled through it for the slim bottle he always carried, started to crawl toward the boy then reconsidered. He handed it to Sam. The child had warmed up to her, but clearly wasn’t yet ready for an adult. He’d lowered his guard enough to push food into his mouth, but the shears were still mere inches from his right sneaker.

  “So,” Sam ventured matter-of-factly. She crossed her legs and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “You got a name?

  He didn’t answer and so she continued. “What do we call you then? We can’t call you ‘Boy’ or ‘’Kid’ or ‘Son’. Not forever. How about ‘Kenneth’ or ‘Tom’?”

  Jeremy noticed the boy’s shoulders relax, ever so slightly, in response to the calming cadence of her voice. Funny things happen when humans find themselves unwillingly sequestered from others. It’s a strange duality of the human psyche. As much as one might dwell on, dream of, or hunger for companionship, one simultaneously becomes frightened by the prospect of it.

  Jeremy cleared his throat. Sam wasn’t going to give up on this. He may as well allow it to play out and see where it went.

  “I don’t think he’s a ‘Kenneth’, Sam. I think we should call him ‘Tiger’ or ‘Hippo’.” As much as the boy fought it, Jeremy watched a slow and reluctant smile begin to pull at the corners of his dirty mouth. “Yeah,” Jeremy continued, “Hippo’ sounds right. I mean, look how fat he is! The kid’s downright enormous.”

  Sam burst into giggles and nudged the water forward. Braver this time, the boy leaned over and took it from her outstretched hand. He stopped eating long enough to clear his voice with a raspy cough.

  “Seth,” he choked. “My name is Seth.”

  His unused voice sounded like the heel of a boot against gravel.

  “Seth,” Sam answered back with a meaningful nod. “Seth’s okay I guess, but you need a fish name. See, my name is really Pike and this is Carp.”

  He pulled deeply from the bottle of water, and then wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Why do I need a fish name?”

  Why indeed, Jeremy thought with a frown. Although it had become a game to them on the road, he still didn’t quite understand why Sam would want to carry on a tradition that’d been passed to them from killers and thieves. She’d shocked him that first day when she’d chosen the funny epithet.

  “Because it makes you tougher,” she explained, “like a gang or a crew. You need to have your gang name to be a member. That’s just how it’s done these days.”

  The boy appeared to consider his options as he crammed handfuls of peas into his mouth. “Great white?” he asked tentatively.

  Sam shook her head. “Too long. Can’t be two words. Two syllables? Fine. But not two words.”

  “Cod? Trout?”

  Sam shook her head. “Still not right.” She peered at Jeremy over her shoulder. “Any advice from the peanut gallery?”

  “Goldfish’?” he queried with a shrug. “Though I still kind of like ‘Salmon’. Or how about ‘Kelp’ or ‘Mullet’?”

  She shook her head and returned her gaze to the boy. “All terrible ideas. He’s very bad at this. And mullet?” She tossed him a look over her shoulder. “That was a horrible hairdo, not a fish.”

  The small boy straightened, his eyes hopeful. “Jellyfish!”

  Sam and Jeremy responded in unison before disintegrating into laughter. “No! Absol
utely no ‘Jellyfish’”

  “Well I don’t know then,” Seth answered, “I don’t know that many kinds of fish—I’ve never been to the ocean.”

  He dropped the package of peas beside his leg and Jeremy watched with dread as he curled his fist reflexively around a small Lego toy and brought his hand up to cradle it against his chest. Jeremy’s heart lurched, the toy immediately bringing to mind the dead man in the pharmacy supply room. Oh no. Okay. Enough chitchat. He needed some answers.

  “We’ll figure out a name later, you guys. Seth, how long have you been here?”

  He lifted his gaze for the first time and stared intently at Jeremy, his eyes an open challenge. “A long time. Not sure, really.”

  Jeremy dared to ask the million-dollar question. “And are you here alone?”

  The boy’s eyes welled with tears, but he thrust out his chin with defiance. “No. I’m not. I’m here with my Mom.”

  That had been a woman? Jeremy’s heart felt heavy and he didn’t want to press the child any further. Continuing with the ruse, he added, “Well, I guess we should take you to her then. We don’t want to leave you here. Is there any family we can help you get back to?”

  Seth perked at that, his body as rigid as a rabbit that had caught the scent of a fox. “You’re leaving?”

  Sam’s tone was an admonishment of her father. “We’re not leaving Seth. But we can’t stay here forever. Neither can you.”

  His small face crumpled and he lifted his hands to cover it. “I’m not leaving my mom.”

  “Okay,” Jeremy conceded, “then why don’t we go find her? Your house has got to be around here somewhere. Would you like to go home?”

  Jeremy could see that the direct questioning was beginning to stress the child and he didn’t have time for this. This was a boy who was intelligent enough to speak, and balanced enough to reign in his emotions. The sky was fast darkening behind them and Jeremy was yet to find a safe location to make camp for the night. Not to mention the fact that the bikes and all their supplies were still hidden beyond the parking lot and he felt a pressing need to get back to them. Enough of games.

  He crossed his legs and pushed himself forward so that he was as far from Seth as Sam was. He took a deep breath. “Seth, is your mom in the pharmacy?”

  Seth ignored this, but Sam flinched beside him. She met his gaze and clearly understood the slight shake of his head. She lifted her shoulders and faced the little boy.

  “Seth, I think you should come with us. We’ve got plenty of food and water, and my Dad is taking us to a very special place. Kind of like an adventure. Will you come with us?”

  “Sam,” Jeremy interrupted softly. “What are you saying? Come with us?”

  “We’ll talk about this later,” she hissed. “Let’s see if he has a house and we can stay there for the night. Let’s just start with that, shall we?”

  Jeremy sighed and spoke to the top of Seth’s head, the boy’s face now concealed by his hands. “Seth,” he began, “I’m afraid I already saw your mother, and now I’d like to speak to you man to man. You’re a big boy, right? You’ve obviously been taking care of yourself all this time and you’ve done a very good job. But you’re not a little boy anymore. You’re kind of like an adult now right? And adults tell each other the truth, Seth. They tell the truth even when its hard to do.” He inched closer, the steel toes of his boots nearly touching the neon green of his small sneaker. “Seth, your mother’s passed on right? She’s passed on to heaven and now you’re here with me and Sam.”

  Seth raised his head from his hands and leveled his gaze on Jeremy. Tears had tracked twin paths down the sides of his face, the parallel lines of demarcation between dirty and clean flesh, almost tribal in the harsh beam of the flashlight. Twice Seth tried to speak but couldn’t, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air within a tangled net. Jeremy examined anew his trembling hands and ill-fitted clothing. Now that he was closer, he could see that the pants hung off him in long folds of cloth that would cover his shoes when he walked, and that the shoulder seams of his shirt fell well past his elbows. This was a boy that needed saving. They couldn’t turn their back on him.

  Jeremy opened his arms wide, surprising himself even, and for a moment Seth’s visage twisted and morphed into a strange amalgamation of features—oddly familiar features—that brought to mind another young boy. Beneath the dancing beam of light, the bridge of his nose seemed to lengthen, his brow more deeply furrowed. Though a mere trick of light and shadow, it was effective, and elicited a sharp response that sliced through Jeremy, a sudden and unexpected blooming of shame and guilt. His decision was immediate. The gesture and offer he was extending to the boy twisted his gut, and he found tears brimming in his own eyes. He was offering safe harbor and the promise of family. He was offering a chance at life for one who’d most assuredly die. But what else? Was he not also offering himself atonement for past misdeeds? Reparation for villainy against so similar an innocent? The situations were strangely parallel were they not? And how long had it been since he’d thought of that other boy? A day? Two at most?

  He wasn’t sure Seth would respond at all, and he probably wouldn’t have if it weren’t for the emotion that pooled in Jeremy’s own eyes. A sob tore from somewhere deep in Seth’s chest and he lunged for Jeremy. The garden shears clattered as they spun away from his sneaker, and he practically bounded into Jeremy’s lap. He curled himself there, fitting his body to the contours of Jeremy’s own, clutched tight to his shirt, wept freely. The shuddering of his shoulders matched Jeremy’s own.

  Time slipped by while Jeremy stroked Seth’s hair. He wasn’t sure just how long they’d sat there until Sam gently slid across the floor to face them. She dropped her elbows to her knees and glanced between man and boy, an odd sort of smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

  “You owe him this,” she murmured quietly. “You’ve needed to fix your karma for a while now.”

  Jeremy lifted his tear-streaked face. “Karma?”

  “For the other boy,” she said softly. “For Peter.”

  Her eyes searched his, and to his dismay he saw the depth of her understanding within them. She knew. She’d always known. All this time she’d known and said nothing. He scanned her eyes for any hint of accusation, any suggestion of recrimination, but there was none. She pushed herself to her feet, stepped forward, and peered down at him from the bridge of her nose.

  “It’s okay Dad. I know. But what you did was unforgivable. I’ve struggled with it and examined it from all perspectives. It wasn’t right and you know it.”

  Her hands fluttered at her sides and he realized that this was hard for her. God, how he admired her. She was a marvel to him, at times much wiser than her years.

  “I’ll tell you that there’s no perspective, no angle I’ve yet been able to find that makes what you did okay. It was reprehensible and it’ll always be reprehensible, but I also know that you did it for me.”

  She shifted uncomfortably on her feet then crouched low, reached for his belt where a tiny key ring hung, and unsnapped it from the loop. It tinkled softly as she lifted it, a miniature stuffed bear with a collar around its neck and a tiny bell attached. It was grimy and faded, yet he startled when he saw it. She examined it in her open palm then closed her hand and slipped it into her pocket. She spun away, picked up her pack, and disappeared down the dark aisle, her last words lingering in the air like an exotic perfume.

  “I forgive you,” she said as she turned the corner, and with that, his tears spilled anew.

  Somehow he eventually untangled himself from Seth. He lifted him over his shoulder and carried him through the store as he and Sam searched for more supplies. Good God. The boy couldn’t weigh more than forty pounds. Together the three found a meager collection of items to add to their baskets, a screwdriver that’d fallen between the rear ledge of a metal shelf and the wall, a box of dry Saltines, and several dusty rolls of Lifesavers. Sam found small glass bottles of papr
ika and curry in the spice aisle, useless to many, but valuable to those who enjoyed lentils.

  They gave the pharmacy a wide berth and now stood, shoulder-to-shoulder outside the store entrance. Jeremy stooped low and set Seth to his feet. He smoothed his shirt and wound a cord through the belt loops of his pants, pulled tight and looped it securely against itself.

  “That ought to get us as far as your house. Don’t you have some better clothing there?”

  Seth nodded and crinkled his brow. “What about my Mom?”

  Sam stepped forward and crouched. “I was thinking that the three of us first have a hot meal and a good night’s sleep, and then tomorrow we can come back and give her a proper burial.”

  She lifted her finger and pointed toward the crest of a hill where light from the rising crescent moon shone on the grass. “There were some old shovels back in the store,” she continued, “I think it’d be nice if we bury her up on that hill and say a prayer. What do you think?”

  Wordlessly, Seth nodded and offered her his hand. She pulled him toward the bikes until he stopped short. “Won’t the bad men still be at my house?”

  Jeremy stopped as well. He had a point. “We’ll approach slowly,” he advised. “I’ll check it out first and we’ll go in only if it’s safe.”

  He and Sam followed Seth’s directions as they walked the bikes. As Seth’s comfort level increased, he became quite chatty. He told them how his father had gone for a supply run three years back and never returned, how ‘bad men’ had ambushed his home late in the night, but that cleverly, the tiny bells his mother tied to the top of the door had warned them, and so they’d gotten away unnoticed. He told them that according to his parents, his family was the last on their block, probably the last in their little town at all. His father had credited their survival to the structure and organization of their lives. Well, that, and the flat surface of their roof, Seth prattled on with a laugh.