Barren Waters - The Complete Novel: (A Post-Apocalyptic Tale of Survival) (32 page)

It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end.

―Ernest Hemingway

That’s the thing about a desert landscape. For a long time it’s simplicity is comforting. For a while it’s purity is cleansing to the soul. Until it becomes nothing short of a bore. The monotony begins to tug at the imagination. While beautiful at first, it eventually leaves one wanting more. It’s a question that begs an answer. What lies beyond the miles and miles of sandy dunes? How much farther must we go?

Where can we find more water?

That was the question that played on Jeremy’s parched lips. Though his initial plan had temporarily staved off the inevitable, their short supply of water had quickly dwindled after their encounter with the fire. And bicycling at night presented it’s own unique set of challenges. It was actually much harder than Jeremy expected. Perhaps it was the body’s resistance to the demands of physical exertion when it expected sleep. Or perhaps it was the depth of the silence or lack of ambient light. Jeremy hadn’t considered that. He’d never been alive when cities had grown and thrived, but in all the pictures he’d seen in books, there was light. Plenty of light. “Light pollution” he’d once heard it called. The darkness of a midnight desert was something he hadn’t expected. Stars reflected off shiny pieces of sand, but when the moon slid behind a cloud, they were barely able to see at all. And at those times, Jeremy led with his thin flashlight clenched between his teeth.

It was dangerous. They were unable to see anything until it was nearly upon them: pockets of sand that curtained the road, or thick tumbleweeds that had come to rest against a scrap of curled rubber. The road was a never-ending peril of spectral accidents waiting to happen. But the alternative was worse. Jeremy knew if they continued to travel by day they would run out of water much faster, and though November had come and gone in the blink of an eye, December had proven just as hot. This was the new weather, Jeremy groaned inwardly. Cold and snow were now relegated to the highest peaks of the Colorado Mountains, or possibly to Canada, Alaska, or Siberia. Not here.

He licked his lips with the small amount of moisture he was able to muster. These past few days he’d begun to ration himself harshly. Now he was paying the price. His lips had cracked and begun to scale, and his urine was a dark, concentrated yellow. He knew he was playing at a knife’s edge with this. These were the beginning stages of severe dehydration and he couldn’t allow himself to get much worse. Minor discomforts were the early symptoms. Confusion and fatigue would come next. Unconsciousness and unresponsiveness would be the last.

As he pulled his bike to a stop, his tongue was thick against the roof of his mouth. He’d taken the last exit and traveled as far as an old apartment complex about three miles down the road. He swung his leg over the seat.

“That’s it for tonight guys,” he rasped.

He peered up at the building ahead. There had to be at least seventy units in this complex—if not more. Maybe they could find a few bottles of water hidden inside. Sam and Seth were thirsty, but not nearly as bad as Jeremy. Sam stepped forward, peered up at him, and frowned.

“Dad, this is bullshit.” She pulled a bottle from her pack and handed it to him. “It’s not
that
bad yet. We still have water. Just drink it. If we have to stay here for a day or two we will. There’s bound to be some type of water around here, even if it’s an old reclamation plant. We’ll just double boil it and strain it. At least it’ll get us to San Diego.”

“We can’t.” He pointed to her belly. “What’s the meter say?”

She hesitated. She probably already knew and was just trying to spare Seth. Scowling, she lifted her shirt and thrust out a defiant hip. “Two percent, okay? But you have pills right? So let’s not get carried away.”

He couldn’t help but hear the false bravado in her voice. Was that a spark of fear in her eyes? Uncapping the bottle she’d handed him, he sipped and sighed with relief. The cool water was a slice of heaven that splashed down his throat. He stopped himself at a few sips and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Yup. I’ve got pills. But a single bottle is all that’s got left.”

They walked their bikes across the parking lot and Jeremy swore he could hear her mind spinning.

“Carp,” she asked tentatively, “you’ve put a lot of faith in San Diego. What if we don’t find what you’re hoping to find? Shouldn’t we slow down and start looking for more pills?”

Though he shook his head, his belly clenched at her words. Was he? Was he putting too much faith in this? He quickly discarded the disquieting thoughts, shook his head, and voiced his opinion with as much confidence as he could manage.

“We’re 172 miles from San Diego. If we push ourselves, that’s only four day’s time—three if we
really
push ourselves. The fire wore us out guys, but at least it forced us to move faster than we normally would have. We’re almost there and I seem to remember someone advising us to suck it up?”

Sam stopped suddenly and leaned her bike against the kickstand. Jeremy turned to her, brows arched, and she met his gaze with challenging eyes.

“Dad. I’m afraid. I’m afraid you’ve put all your eggs in one basket. I’m afraid you’ve set us up for disappointment. What if it’s all for nothing? What if we’ve exhausted ourselves with this journey, and there’s nothing waiting at the end of it?” She scratched at a burnt patch of skin on the palm of her hand. “What if we should have taken our time and explored each city along the way? I mean how many disks have we passed in the thousand or so miles we’ve traveled?” When he didn’t answer, she pulled Seth against her hip and hugged him without giving the act a second thought. “Dad, that’s it. I’m done. I won’t travel another mile till you tell me what you’ve banked my future on.”

Jeremy was suddenly angry. “
Banked
your future on? Is that a joke? Is that what you think of me? That I would risk your life on a whim?” When she didn’t respond he thrust his hand in his pocket and flipped her the empty disk case. He’d carried it in his pocket for months, since the moment he decided to move forward with the idea. It was like a lucky coin or bottle cap, a talisman one might hang around his neck on a piece of yarn. The absence of its weight against his thigh was strangely uncomfortable. She held it up to the wan light and squinted.

“And? So what?”

“Turn it over,” he demanded.

She did and peered at the faint lettering. “Bigeye Pharmaceuticals,” she said aloud, regarding him through narrowed eyes. “That’s the maker of the product?” Confused, she looked closer. “Okay. And?”

He sighed. “God, Sam. You’re impossible. Look what’s printed below.”

“I can’t see it.”

Seth pulled her arm closer to his face and scrunched his eyes in the darkness. He fished his small flashlight from his pocket and shined it across the plastic.

“San Diego,” he murmured.

“What?” Her breath was soft. Her head snapped up and her voice trembled with excitement. “The manufacturer of the disks is in San Diego.” She hadn’t phrased it as a question. “Dad, do you really think they’ll still have disks?”

He enjoyed another small sip from the bottle then gave in to his desires and swallowed a larger one. “I do. And you need to understand something, Sam. This technology was introduced when the world was already in the process of collapsing. There were very few people who were fortunate enough to receive the implants. Your mother and I researched the subject extensively. Don’t you remember all that time we spent at the library? At the time of the dying, the science of nanotechnology was used for many things, but this idea was still fairly new. So the answer to your question is no. I don’t think we’ve passed a string of disks in multiple cities along the way. I think the manufacturers never had time to market or sell a product they spent millions of dollars to research and produce. Your mother and I had to go to great lengths to obtain the ones we did. We had to meet with dangerous contacts, and broker and trade many valuable things. The disks were very hard to come by. So that begs the question, Sam. Where did they all go? If they were produced and never shipped, then where now might that surplus be?”

She blinked. “Okay, so maybe we haven’t passed any secret hoards of disks, but I’m sure we passed many bottles of pills.”

Jeremy nodded. “I’m sure we have. But therein lies the other problem. Over the years the pills have lost their potency. Though a similar encapsulation technology was used to manufacture them, it was in no way as effective as it was with the disks. If we took the time to stop at each place along the way, it would have been similar to walking on a treadmill. We would be gathering pills—yes—but losing precious time with the disks in your implant. I thought it would be best for us to get to San Diego as fast as possible. If my plan for the disks fails then we’ll just search for pills once we get there.”

Her eyes filled with tears and he felt his throat constrict. He thought this news would make her happier.

“So you believe one day the pills will won’t work at all?”

He crouched in front of her and took her hands in his. “I don’t know, Sam. What I do know is the disks are better. The technology is wildly advanced.” A lock of stringy hair had loosed from her ponytail and he tucked it behind her ear and palmed the sides of her face with his hands. “We
will
figure this out,” he assured her softly. “I won’t let you down. Not while I’m alive and breathing. If there aren’t any disks in San Diego then we’ll brainstorm and figure out what to do next. Sam, up to this point, I’ve only done what I thought was best. That’s all a person can ever do. But, I will tell you this: Grandma was a genius at locating pills. I feel confident: if we need them, I can find them quickly.”

She dropped her gaze to her feet. “So that’s what happened to Grandpa, isn’t it? He stopped taking the pills so I could have more. That’s why he went to sleep and never woke up. I’m right aren’t I?”

“Yes. You’re right. That’s what he did. It was just something he wanted to do. None of us were able to change his mind. He loved you more than his own life. And think of all those pills we lost when we lit the cabin on fire. So let’s do this for Grandpa. Let’s do this for the sacrifice he made for you. Deal?”

She rounded her shoulders and sniffed. “Deal.”

Jeremy stood and watched as she dropped the small plastic case in her pocket. He lifted his gaze to the apartment complex in front of them. “What do you guys say we try to find some water in this old dump?”

They actually located quite a few bottles of water. This had once been a retirement village, and one thing Jeremy could always count on was the wisdom of elders. The elderly had tucked away all manner of things. It was a relief really—one less thing to worry about. So they drank their fill of water and gorged themselves on stale balance bars. The spoils were impressive. Sam read from her book and they struggled to find normalcy despite the ticking meter of her internal clock. They were careful with one another, tiptoed to avoid certain topics of conversation. They didn’t speak of her meter, or of the miles of road that still stretched ahead. There was a nervous energy in the air, an unspoken acceptance that they’d reached the end of their journey. But there was a sense of hope too, a shared conviction that what they needed would be waiting on the other side.

Jeremy fell asleep on his side. His eyes were fixed on Sam and her hand, which had come to rest at the edge of his blanket. He reached out and set his fingers atop hers, and when sleep finally claimed him, the last sensation he remembered was the warmth of her fingers as they laced through his own.

The next morning her meter had fallen to zero and the three of them were silent as Jeremy passed her the last remaining bottle of pills. Was it the bottle he’d pilfered from Peter or the bottle he’d happened across as he stepped over Seth’s deceased mother? Who could tell? It was a thing as random as the scattering of molecules from the fluttering wings of a butterfly.

Not I, nor anyone else can travel that road for you.

You must travel it by yourself.

It is not far. It is within reach.

Perhaps you have been on it since you were born, and did not know.

Perhaps it is everywhere—on water and land.

―Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

The San Diego hills rose majestically in front of them and simultaneously wreaked havoc on Jeremy’s thighs. They’d reached the city limits just as the first rays of sun were streaking across the sky. They were exhausted, Jeremy in particular. In the days that followed the expiration of her last disk, Sam had weakened considerably. The intensity of the physical exertion coupled with a poor diet and lack of proper sleep was too much for her battered body to handle. The night before, in a moment of sheer panic, Jeremy had watched her press the pedal of her bike and fail. She had wobbled precariously; sweat dotting her brow. Head fallen forward; she’d slumped across the handlebars in defeat. Seth had stifled a scream and Jeremy had lowered his bike and dashed to her side.

“Seth,” he’d called out, in a voice that sounded shrill in his ears, “I need your help, son.” Jeremy shrugged out of his pack and passed it to the boy. “You’re going to have to carry this while I carry her.”

Without further delay, he lifted Sam and let her bike fall to the ground. It was useless to them now, but it had done its job and he left it where it fell. He carried her to his bike and propped her against his chest. Seth gently splayed her legs across the handlebars and accepted the additional weight of her pack without protest.

This was how they’d traveled the last fifty miles. It was nothing short of grueling. Jeremy’s legs burned from the effort. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen, his breath a painful burn in his chest. He’d clenched his teeth against his many discomforts: the sliver of seat that pressed uncomfortably against his groin, the trembling of muscles in arms that had to remain taut to keep Sam from falling to the side, and the unbearable thirst he couldn’t quench with the bottle of water strapped beneath the bike’s frame. He couldn’t stop now. He wouldn’t stop.

Wordlessly they’d ridden all night and saved their breath for the last miles ahead. At certain points, Sam was somewhat lucid, but most of the time she wasn’t. She’d fallen into a deep sleep for most of the way. At least that’s what Jeremy told himself. For a diabetic without the proper amount of insulin, there was a fine line between deep sleep and coma. But he didn’t want to think about that. He’d propped her arm against her belly, in a way that provided him visibility of the numbers at her wrist, and he fought to contain his panic as he watched them rise. Her sugars were high. Unacceptably high.

Though he and Susan had never truly known, they’d always suspected Sam suffered the worst kind of diabetes. Some sufferers seemed able to produce small amounts of insulin, but Sam seemed unable to produce any. He further suspected that about two days ago her body had gone into diabetic ketoacidosis, which meant the pills were all but useless. After she’d ingest them, her sugars would decrease slightly, but the dosage required to accomplish even that was staggering. At that pace the bottle would be empty by tomorrow morning—tomorrow afternoon at the latest.

He’d tried his best to keep her alert, to engage her in conversation and keep the wind in her face. And he didn’t allow her to eat. It was a cruel and desperate measure—one that his father had mentioned years ago. It was an effective treatment in the most critical of situations. Maybe it was helping now, but to Jeremy it only seemed to weaken her further. He tried to talk to her softly as they rode, tried to liven her spirits as best he could.

“Ten more miles to the ocean, Pike. Can you believe we made it?”

Sometimes she’d answer, a small grunt of acknowledgment or a fluttering of fingers against his wrist. And the times she didn’t, he took comfort in the slow rise and fall of her back against his chest.

Behind Jeremy, Seth struggled in stoic silence. They stopped once for water and a small bit of food, but that was all Jeremy had allowed. Each moment they were idle felt like an acceptance of defeat. Neither Seth nor Jeremy was able to stay still for long. As night slowly progressed into day, she became less and less responsive and Jeremy found his mutterings beginning to border on maniacal.

“See Pike?” he begged of her, “See? I wasn’t wrong. All of this would have happened no matter what we did. The pills don’t work. So we need to forgive ourselves. No,” he shook his head desperately, “I mean you need to forgive me. Please forgive me, Sam. Peter’s leg was bad because of the crappy pills—not Meghan’s struggle to find them. Maybe I hastened what was bound to happen anyway. The leg I mean,” he insisted to her softly. “The leg was a sure sign that the pills were becoming useless, right? But still I didn’t act fast enough. I should have gone with my gut months before I did. I should have seen it. I was such an idiot. We should have left sooner. We could have been there by now.” He blinked tears from his eyes. “Sam, It’s my fault. If I had acted sooner, we’d already have our house at the top of the hill. If I’d acted without hesitating—like Grandpa always said—we’d already have our garden in the back yard and our rain catchers on the roof.” He hiccupped through a sob and laid his cheek against the top of her head. “Just hang in there for me. Just a little bit longer. Please.”

Overhead the sky had brightened into a kaleidoscope of purples. Streaks of amethyst and lilac were beginning to brighten deep pockets of eggplant. They had finally crossed into San Diego and were speeding down Point Loma Avenue toward Sunset Cliffs Boulevard. Jeremy cast a glance over his shoulder.

“Seth?” The boy’s cheeks were red and puffed with air. His legs were pumping fast. Jeremy was certain he was suffering the same discomforts. “We’re almost there, son. Hang in there. Suck it up.”

Seth raised his face to the sun and Jeremy’s breath caught in his throat. Tears glistened in the boy’s brown eyes, reflecting gold in the morning light.

“Sam?” he inquired breathlessly, the word cut short by a sob.

Jeremy didn’t answer. He turned his gaze back to the road and bore down hard with his legs. Putting on a burst of speed he nearly screamed aloud as the immense ocean began to materialize in front of them.

“Sam,” he whispered. He shifted slightly and tried to prop her up without decreasing their speed. “Look. We’re here. Look at the water. We made it.”

Her eyes fluttered and opened, and the corners of her mouth lifted into a thin smile. “We made it?” she questioned faintly. She tried to raise her head and Jeremy risked a moment to slow and cup her chin with one hand. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured. “Like diamonds on silk.”

Once she’d seen it, her eyes slid closed. She looked like a frail doll, eyelashes splayed across a delicate cheek. Fluttering once more against him she forced her eyes to open and focus. Her words were so faint that he had to lean close to her mouth to catch them. “You did it Dad. You got us here. We need to get Mom and take her to the beach.”

Her words were slurred and didn’t make sense. Jeremy choked on his reply. “Yeah, honey, we’ll get her. We’ll get her and have a picnic. Okay? I think she’d like that.”

Sam smiled and let her eyes slip closed. Jeremy’s heart skipped a beat. He turned left on Sunset Cliffs, his bike skidding dangerously on the sandy road. The ocean was breathtaking. It was a beauty he’d long thought absent from this world. The waves barreled toward the shoreline and broke against the cliffs in refreshing sprays. The sea was vast, a glittering blanket of stars reflecting the sun. It
was
like diamonds. As usual she was right. In that radiant moment, the only thing that could have eclipsed its beauty was the tall glass building that shimmered at the edge of the cliff in the distance.

Bigeye Pharmaceuticals.

It was a contemporary building of steel framing and glass. Glass—not reflective like the pink-and-gold of a Las Vegas Casino— but clear and limpid and transparent on every side. To Jeremy it was like a beacon, like a lighthouse or flare; a sanctuary that beckoned and shone bright beneath a rising sun.

He sped toward the structure, the sound of Seth’s spinning tires close at his heels. Pulling his bike to the edge of the overgrown lawn he whisked Sam into his arms. He just needed to check her first. Just for a moment. Just to see. She’d made it this far—made it as far as the damn door. “Please,” he prayed aloud. Please just let him get her across the threshold.

“Look,” he said excitedly as he held her up, “Look! We’re here!”

Her head lolled against his shoulder then fell dangerously limp across his arm. A sob tore from his throat. If she fell into a coma it would be over. He couldn’t let that happen. Lowering her to the grass he searched her pockets for the near-empty bottle. Beside him Seth dropped silently to his knees. Tears were streaming down his face. Reaching for her hand he held it tight and watched Jeremy push pills into her mouth. She was too far-gone. The pills fell from her lips to her chin then rolled onto the grass.

“No,” Jeremy whispered. She could be brought back from this. This wasn’t it. This wasn’t the end. It couldn’t be. He shoved the bitter pills into his mouth, softened them with his saliva then smeared the paste against her lips. He pushed it into her mouth and coated the insides of her cheeks with as much as he could manage. “Just a little longer baby. Please don’t leave.”

He poured water onto her lips, tried to push as much of the white substance into her mouth as he could then scooped her up and sped toward the doors.

His mind wandered as he ran, and he suddenly remembered that very first morning—the morning after his father had killed those two men. He remembered asking his father how long he could survive on half a dose of pills. Liam hadn’t answered, but the answer had come soon enough.

Sixteen months.

Liam had survived for sixteen months. He was an older man by that time, and the inappropriate level of medication further hastened the aging of his body. His death had been slow and agonizing. He hadn’t lost a leg or suffered a gangrenous wound as Peter had. His pain was relegated to places they couldn’t see. His deterioration was internal—which was exactly the way he wanted it. It allowed him to keep up appearances, allowed him to continue his suffering alone. Jeremy knew his father’s fear. By the end, Liam must have known just how weak the pills had become. It was as if he’d come to believe that by keeping them for himself he was killing his granddaughter. It was madness. It was twisted. It was love.

Toward the end he’d lost weight quickly, and once his pain had become too great, he’d simply allowed the inevitable to happen. But he’d been happy till the end and that was what was important. What he did was a personal choice, and it was one he had made willingly. He was alive when Sam had first learned to read. He loved to listen to her struggle through sentences, loved to watch her face by the light of the hearth. Jeremy and Susan owed Liam so much. It was his death in the first place that prompted them to look for other alternatives for Sam. It was the blessing of his gift that propelled them to find the disks. Sacrifices sometimes beget other sacrifices. Acts of love are a never-ending chain without a clear beginning.

He and Seth reached the entrance and Jeremy frantically cast his eyes about the ground. Motioning toward a stone he nodded his head.

“Seth. There. Back up and throw it. Hard.”

Seth picked up the stone and backed several paces, reared back his arm, and with a small grunt let it loose. With a sharp clatter, stone crashed through glass, the sound a harsh counterpoint to the breaking waves below the cliffs. Jeremy kicked the glass to widen the hole, and the two of them pushed through the opening.

“Where?” Jeremy screamed aloud. He spun in circles. “Where?”

They ran first to the deserted reception area, and if Jeremy weren’t holding tight to his daughter’s limp body, the sight would have dropped him to his knees. Beside the front desk was an old and faded display, a towering twenty-foot image of a beautiful woman, hair blown back by the wind. Beneath the fabric of her white bathing suit, a familiar green glow shone luminous at the side of her belly. Jeremy nearly lost it. He’d been right. Though he’d gambled terribly, he’d been right.

Seth saw it too and spun wildly around the room. “Where?” he moaned. “Where are they?”

Jeremy draped a limp Sam across the glass case of the reception desk, pressed two fingers to her throat and held his breath. Her pulse was faint and fluttering, her breath gone ragged, but she was alive.

“Where?” Seth sobbed. “Jeremy, what do we do? Where can we find them?”

Jeremy took a breath, wiped the tears from his eyes and spun around. He swung his head from left to right then pointed to a set of white doors behind the reception platform. The two of them sprinted for the doors, footfalls sharp staccato notes that echoed against white marble. They passed through the entrance then spread out. Seth chose the hallway to the left, and Jeremy the one to the right. Some of the doors were open, some locked, and Jeremy searched each room with trembling hands.

His thoughts were electric, sharp and jagged behind tired eyes. He thought of Susan and Sam, of the morning of Sam’s birth and his mother’s calm presence during the labor. As everything in the Colt household had always been, Sam’s birth was a family affair. They’d staged a tub of water in the baby’s room, one of those kiddie pools with flimsy plastic sides and a bright blue bottom. He remembered how his father had paced the hall outside the room, remembered Susan’s fear of the pain, the clutching of her fingers, and her iron grip.

“Women have been giving birth for thousands of years, Suse,” Jeremy had reminded her for the tenth time. “For thousands of years—and without epidurals.”