Barren Waters - The Complete Novel: (A Post-Apocalyptic Tale of Survival) (30 page)

“We did,” Jeremy said slowly, “But we had to travel to three different facilities to find them. It’s not a sustainable plan. We’ve got to think bigger.”

Olivia sipped her coffee and peered at him over the rim. She swallowed. “What if we take a different tack with all of this? What you’re doing—essentially—is searching for a needle in a haystack. Why don’t we work smarter and not harder? Let’s go back to the hospital tonight.” She glanced at their haggard faces. “Well, perhaps not
tonight
, but the night after that for sure. I propose that the three of us go back to that hospital and find the patient records. Wouldn’t it be smarter to assemble a list of those who were actually diagnosed with the disease? My thought is–we make a list. We keep a log of their names and home addresses.”

Liam’s smile was genuine. “You’re a genius Liv. One of the reasons I married you. Well, that and that slinky green dress.”

She laid her head on his shoulder then lifted it and met his gaze. “This plan’s better—yes— but it brings about another set of questions. We need to ask ourselves who we want to be. As people I mean.”

Susan was first to respond. “I’m not sure I follow, Olivia.”

Jeremy did. He set his mug on the table and dropped his palms to his knees. “She’s saying that this is a different type of scavenging altogether. When we steal from hospitals and care centers, we’re taking medicines that would have otherwise spoiled and gone unused. But if we begin to visit individual homes, we’d—in essence—be stealing from the hands of other humans.” He rolled his stiff neck. “What we’re doing now doesn’t hurt anyone.” He peered at his father and winked. “Well, what
Susan and I
are doing isn’t hurting anyone, but this would be something completely different. This is foraging on a different level.”

Susan shook her head. “I’m not comfortable with this. Think of it in personal terms. What if someone came to our cabin with the intent of taking what’s ours? What are we saying here? Are we saying we’re going to do that to other people? That we’re planning to break into homes by force and steal? Like carry-a-gun and steal?”

“Okay,” Liam said. “I know what you’re saying. I agree. I’m not comfortable with that either. But many of these patients may already be dead. We can’t forget that diabetics need insulin, but they need water and food too—the same as every other human being on this planet. Those commodities are in much higher demand than insulin. It’s quite possible—probable even—that many of the people on these lists are already dead from a lack of other necessities. They may have died from thirst or famine, or flu for that matter. These tablets may be wasting away in their homes, never to be found or consumed by anyone. I think the idea is brilliant if we tweak it just a bit.”

“Okay. Let’s compromise then,” Jeremy decided. “We do as Mom says. We begin to compile a list of people with diabetes. We perform a thorough search of care facilities in a given area then carry out an extensive exploration of individual homes. But we do it humanely. We commit, collectively, to only take from those who’ve died or otherwise seem to have abandoned their homes.” He glanced at each face. “Does this sound acceptable to everyone?”

The three nodded and Jeremy let his head fall to the cushions behind him. He was exhausted, and though the topic of conversation was unsettling, it still felt good to have a plan.

“Hi sugar,” Susan cooed from beside him.

Jeremy lifted his head and set his gaze upon his daughter. She stood barefoot in the square of sun from the window, blanket clutched under her arm, edges trailing behind her like a bridal train. The sun shone through her pale hair, adding sparkle to her eyes and a glowing halo around her face. She was so innocent and beautiful, so like her mother that in nearly broke his heart. He opened his arms to her but she didn’t come. As always, she went to her grandfather. She padded to his side, allowed him to lift her onto the cushions where she molded herself against his belly and chest.

Children have keen instincts. Jeremy had always thought so. Sam had always gravitated to her grandfather. Perhaps she felt a kinship with him—something that transcended a biology they didn’t share. Perhaps she sensed his willingness to sacrifice. She curled her arm around his neck and Jeremy’s eyes shifted to his father’s face. Last night he’d seen a different side of Liam. Last night he’d learned a different kind of lesson. Dear God, he thought with sudden awe, would his father ever run out of important lessons to share? Liam had always shown him the importance of organization and careful planning, but this was something entirely different. Last night he’d shown him the importance of protecting those you love. At any cost. He’d shown him the significance of acting bravely and without hesitation. He’d taught him that sometimes you had to act quickly and ask questions later.

Jeremy stared at his father and his child curled as one, and vowed to protect his family with the same measure of devotion he’d seen tonight. To keep Sam alive, he’d go to the ends of the earth if he had to. Well, maybe not the ends of the earth, he thought with a smile, but certainly the ends of the country if it ever came to that. But it wouldn’t ever come to that.

Right?

Water is fluid, soft, and yielding. But water will wear away rock, which is rigid and cannot yield. As a rule, whatever is fluid, soft, and yielding will overcome whatever is rigid and hard. This is another paradox: what is soft is strong.

-
 Lao-Tzu (600 B.C.)

They’d followed I-20 to I-10 across New Mexico’s southern border, pedaling fast through the charming yet barren cities of Los Cruces and Deming. Jeremy loved the flat expanse of the desert, of land that was cupped by majestic mountains from every side. The landscape was dramatically different than it was in Tennessee. It was brown instead of green, sparse instead of lush, yet uniquely beautiful in it’s own right. The sky overhead was immense and blue, so big that it was strangely humbling. The air was clear and dry, and the land that sprawled in every direction lent Jeremy a sense of security he hadn’t felt in months. Nothing could surprise them here. Nothing could spring from behind a large elm or hide behind the crest of a hill and catch them unawares. Visibility was absolute.

But it was hot. That was the trade off. He couldn’t deny that. The heat was punishing. It wafted from the pavement in shimmering waves. It sapped the moisture from his eyes and burned his throat. But it was a dry heat, right? Wasn’t that always the joke out in the west? Well—dry heat be damned. Hot was hot. But it wasn’t all that bad. At least the lack of moisture worked to wick the sweat from their shirts and necks. The gentle breeze—when it actually blew—provided a comfortable fan of air that washed across their faces as they pedaled.

Sam and Seth had never seen the desert, and Jeremy enjoyed their reactions as much as the scenery itself. They’d oohed and awed at the strange plants and cacti. They pointed at the round and spikey yucca, at center stalks that pointed toward the sky like absurdly long fingers tipped in creamy white flowers. Seth likened the short spiny ones to hunched porcupines and Sam couldn’t stop gushing as she pointed to their delicate fuchsia flowers or the regal field of Joshua trees that reached for the heavens with gnarled arms. Sunset had quickly become their favorite time of day. Sunsets in the east were beautiful, but incomparable to those in west, particularly if a wispy carpet of rolling clouds blanketed the sky. The sun would dip below the horizon in front of them and shimmer across the sands. It would alight the clouds with fire and paint the sky a rich pallet of oranges and reds. These would fade to pinks and purples, and the heavens would become a broad and sweeping amaranthine field. Sometimes they would take those precious moments to stop and rest, to drink, enjoy a snack, and limber sore muscles. Beside the road, they’d sit and stretch, content simply to exist in the surroundings of this peaceful place.

Once they’d even tried to sleep outside beneath the blanket of gleaming stars.

“Why should we coop ourselves up in a smelly old house?” Sam had pointed out. “We haven’t seen another person for weeks. We’d just waste precious time if we exit the freeway now. What’s the point? I don’t think anyone other than us can cross these roads. They wouldn’t have enough water. If we stay here and sleep by the road then we can wake up and start from exactly the same spot. Think about how much time we’d save.”

Jeremy smiled at the memory of that first night’s attempt. They’d circled their sleeping pallets and built a fire in the center. They’d eaten a hearty meal of cooked oats and lentils, and Jeremy had passed around crumbling tablets of Vitamin C. Sam had read from
The Deathly Hallows
and they’d enjoyed the sound of the wind as it whispered across the sand. Until the coyotes had shown up, of course. They heard the first howl only an hour after Sam had folded the corner of the page and closed the book. Seth had leapt from his blankets and scampered to her side.

“What the hell was that?” he’d whispered with wide eyes.

“Language Seth!” Sam had admonished, yet she peered at Jeremy, the same question in her eyes.

“Coyotes,” he’d muttered, awestruck by the revelation. “It’s the sound of coyotes.”

He was amazed they were still here—amazed they were alive at all. It had been a long time since they’d come across any wildlife. They’d passed no dogs or cats along the way. Not a squirrel or chipmunk. Not a rat or mouse. But the more he thought about it, the more the coyotes made sense. Desert animals had already acclimated to these harsh conditions. They’d adapted to it, adjusted, been prepared by the evolution of hundreds of thousands of years. Hot, arid land had always been their home so their presence made sense. Their world was the least bit changed by the death of the world’s oceans.

Though he would have loved to stay a little longer, to glimpse even one of their sleek hides in person, the children clearly had other plans. He’d glanced at Seth and Sam and laughed aloud as he watched them pack their belongings. With haste they’d shoved blankets into their packs, and the remaining items in the panniers at the sides of their bikes. In a matter of moments they’d packed up the entire camp.

“Okay,” he’d agreed as he stretched his legs. “We’ll find a house. Probably safer that way anyhow. Who knows how many snakes or tarantulas squirm across this desert in the dead of night? Scorpions too.”

Sam had yelped and groped for her flashlight, then shone it at her feet in a wide splash of light. The whole thing had been strangely
normal
and Jeremy had tucked away the memory. Yes. New Mexico had been beautiful—brilliant even, and he’d enjoyed every moment of it.

But now they’d reached Arizona and things were beginning to unravel again. In Odessa they’d lost more days than Jeremy cared to admit. As it turned out, the local Walmart had nothing of value whatsoever: no bicycles or bicycle tires, inner tubes, or oil for the chains. There was nothing of use at all in fact. The store was burned out and vandalized and they’d quickly moved on. A mile down the road, the Sears store at the mall hadn’t helped much either. One vending machine was tucked behind a draped tarp. They’d crashed through the glass, claimed the food that wasn’t already spoiled, but hadn’t located any tires.

The Sports Authority and other bike shops proved much the same, and only having failed at several other stores, did Jeremy finally agree to enter the small shop with shattered glass windows across its front. It was a mom-and-pop shop, an ugly green building with pink framing and faded yellow-and-red signage. From the outside it hadn’t looked all that promising, but Sam had been close to tears so he agreed to give it this one last shot. It was their fifth day in the small town and she had started to wilt beneath the stress of the situation. In secret Jeremy was starting to panic too, barely concealing his fear as he planned their next move. Seth was doing his best to bolster Sam’s spirits, but even he was beginning to succumb to the melancholic effects of repeated disappointments.

They’d entered the small store and picked through the remaining contents with dismay; through helmets, water bottles, and piles of brightly colored biking shorts. They selected a few sturdy replacement panniers, but hadn’t found a single tire. It was only after they’d nearly given up that Jeremy remembered the advice his mother offered so many years before.

“You’re looking for a needle in a haystack, Jeremy,” she seemed to whisper. “Work smarter not harder.”

In a flurry of movement he pushed himself to his feet and disappeared behind the shop’s counter. He rifled through piles of old mail and stacks of unopened bills and finally uncovered the owner’s ledgers and accounting journals. He remembered thinking how crazy it was that the store’s owner hadn’t used a computer for such things, but it had worked to their benefit and in the end Jeremy was grateful. Triumphant in his findings, he’d emerged from behind the counter, yet Sam was less than optimistic.

“What’s so great about that? A bunch of mail and old papers?” She tossed an old water bottle to the floor with disdain. “Do they point to a giant warehouse full of bike or tires? That might get me excited.”

“Nope,” Jeremy countered. “Even better. It’s the address to the owner’s house. Grandma always used to tell us to stop looking in the most obvious of places. This guy owned a bike shop, right? So let’s go check out his house. We’re bound to find all kinds of stuff there. If he sold bikes, he liked bikes. It’s just common sense. Wouldn’t it stand to reason that he owned a few himself?”

Although morose, Sam pushed herself to her feet and the three had walked the bikes several miles to the owner’s modest home. By this point the grasses and leaves beneath the rubber casing of her tire had begun to flatten and fail, and Jeremy was afraid they were causing irreparable damage to the rim. To the man’s house they’d pushed the bikes, and thankfully their efforts were rewarded. The house was vacant of humans, but replete with bicycles and bicycle parts.

But just as Jeremy had feared, the rim of Sam’s bike was bent beyond repair. He’d tried to fit the new tire to the rim, but had given up quickly amid a torrent of cursing. It was only after Seth had pointed to two other bikes in the trunk of the man’s car that Jeremy had begun to feel a bit of renewed hope. Fortuned had smiled even brighter in the garage. Along the east wall they found boxes of tires and plump inner tubes, and replaced old items with new. As Seth had suggested earlier, each fashioned a backwards tire-necklace with a length of rope.

“Like a sombrero hat,” he’d spun around and reminded them.

From the framed photos that lined the mantle of the man’s fireplace, they saw that he had been a father and husband, and Jeremy solemnly thanked the man for his unknown contributions. They spent the night under the mystery-man’s roof, awakened early and set back out on the road.

From Odessa they followed a rigorous schedule. They’d lost nearly a week and Jeremy was beginning to crumble under the pressure. The rattling of the single bottle of pills in the back of his pack offered little comfort. Maybe he should have experimented with them more while they still had disks. Maybe he should have spent more time testing how many it took to decrease her sugars when it wasn’t becoming an emergency. It had been a while since she’d taken them and he had no idea how effective they would be. But he hadn’t. He’d been afraid to waste even one of them. So it wasn’t worth thinking about and he tried to push the thoughts to the back of his head.

New Mexico had been a brief respite from the stress of the journey. The beauty and stillness of nature had done wonders to enliven their spirits, but the rigors of Arizona were beginning to wear them down: the unforgiving heat and the ever-increasing elevation. That, he thought grimly, and the fact that their supply of water was beginning to wan.

Water was becoming a much more pressing need. Since Fort Worth they’d encountered no rain. They’d been lucky enough to forage a few bottles along the way, but their supplies were fast running out and Jeremy worried that he’d have to enforce a stricter ration soon. But how could water be rationed safely when those who drank it were biking over fifty miles a day? The two ideas were diametrically opposed. The Arizona sun was hot and punishing and he knew a tighter ration schedule could quickly result in dehydration. He also knew that Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, Nevada, and even parts of California had waged bitter civil wars over water rights for years. The Colorado River had always been the most metro-dependent river in the Unites States of America. When the oceans soured and society began to crumble, people began to horde as many bottles as they could find. Convenience stores in the west were often held at gunpoint over nothing more than a couple of dusty bottles of Evian. While people in the east had starved for food, people in the west had perished of dehydration.

In the flat areas of the west, water soon ceased its faithful delivery to homes. In the east, water could travel through pipes by way of gravity, but the west required a complex system of pumps. Once those pumps shut down, chaos shortly ensued. Water became the currency of the west. It was the sole cause of much of the migration of its people. Water refugees had become the norm all those years ago, and now the land was nothing but a series of dusty and wind-blown ghost towns. Nothing could survive here. Not without water.

“Dad, you promised,” Sam urged gently.

They’d hunkered down for the night, selected a small, adobe-style single story just off I-10 and eaten their last can of the soup. Startled, Jeremy lifted his gaze. “I’m sorry?”

“You promised,” she insisted. “You promised you’d be honest with me from here on out. You promised you wouldn’t keep any secrets or hide anything from me ever again.”

Jeremy set down his bowl of rice. Was he that transparent?

“I didn’t realize I was hiding anything.”

“Oh please Dad. You have that look again, that deep crease above your forehead and those little crinkles around your eyes.”

“Yeah. I have creases and wrinkles cuz I’m an old man.”

She tightened her lips to avoid a grin. There was no way she’d let him deflect the truth with poor humor. “Oh yeah. You’re definitely old.” She stretched out on her stomach and cradled her head in her hands. “So let’s have it old man. What’s the big issue now? What’s got your underpants in such a bunch?”

“Oh I don’t know, Sam,” he frowned. “Could it be the meter at your belly or the week we lost back in Odessa? Is it the heat? Or the food that’s drying out in our packs? I don’t know, Sam. Take your pick.” Her mouth twitched and immediately he regretted the words. He sighed. “Guys, I’m worried about our water supply. If you haven’t noticed, it’s damn hot out there and we haven’t come across any sources of water since we left Odessa.”

Into her mouth, Sam spooned a round ball of rice and chewed with disinterest. “Okay. So what’s the plan? You always seem to have one. In your infinite wisdom how do we find that elusive underground spring? That magic well? That forgotten bank vault full of briefcase after briefcase of water?”