Barren Waters - The Complete Novel: (A Post-Apocalyptic Tale of Survival) (7 page)

at the press conference for the film he impressed everyone with his complete sincerity and innocence. he said he had come to see the sea for the first time and marveled at how clean it was. someone told him that, in fact, it wasn't. 'when the world is emptied of human beings' he said, 'it will become so again

—Werner Herzog 

As always they’d arisen with the dawning of the sun. Mornings had become his favorite time of late, even more so, now that they had the bikes. He’d come to cherish these few short hours before the sun would rise and beat down mercilessly upon their backs. With the wind in his face, the satisfying burn of physical exertion in his muscles, and the radiance and solitude of a world that belonged only to them, he found a strange sort of peace. Wasn’t it remarkable that the soul could find beauty and tranquility even in the worst of circumstances?

He cupped a hand to his brow and scanned the long strip of highway that had previously been US-64 W. It was nothing but a stretch of black pavement now, its washed-out lines and faded oil stains the only remnants of decades of road traffic. The blotches and smears of car lubricants and old grease felt like a crime scene to Jeremy, like the cadaverous remains and residue of a large-scale mass murder, the likes of which hadn’t been seen on the planet for millions of years. The world had effectively been delivered back to the plants, he considered as he peered at the thick fungi-covered foliage that hemmed the roadway. It was as if the plants moved with purpose now, as if they deliberately pushed and crowded at manmade structures in an effort to extinguish any remaining trace of humanity from the face of what had once again become their planet. Humans were merely a hiccup in time for the Earth, a setback or hindrance that it seemed to want to relegate to its rearview mirror.

But often Jeremy wondered if that could ever truly happen. Over the past decade, what little contact he and his family had had with other members of civilization had been strangely dichotomous. He’d seen the best of other members of his species, but he’d also seen the worst. He’d seen moments of brilliance and ingenuity, of tenderness and compassion, but he’d also seen savagery, greed, and unspeakable brutality. And what of himself? What of his own actions?
What of the boy
, the little voice sneered at him. Was he any better than those who had torn his family apart? He hadn’t spoken to Sam about the depths of his own cruelty. He couldn’t. Those actions were themselves unspeakable. He shrugged off the thoughts, refocused his attentions on the brightness of the new day, and realized suddenly that he missed the birds. Only the music of their whistles and warbles could further enrich this already glorious morning, but like most of the world’s creatures, they’d fallen prey to a dying Earth.

Pedaling faster, he closed the distance between him and his daughter.

“How goes it up here?” he called to Sam.

Lately she’d wanted to take the lead and he’d let her. He hadn’t seen the danger in it. After all, they hadn’t seen another living soul on the roads for weeks. Not since after the fire.
Not since the mother and her boy
. His skin prickled as his thoughts dared to linger on that small face. He shook his head as if the motion would scatter his bruised memories to the wind.

“How many more miles on this road?” Sam called over her shoulder.

“A little over seventy. We won’t make it tonight so I’ve planned a short stop along the way. I think we can make it to Scottsboro.”

“What’s in Scottsboro?”

He pulled up beside her and smiled. “A Walmart Supercenter.”

She rolled her eyes, though he wasn’t fooled. She loved a Walmart. Though most they’d come across had been completely ransacked, the stocks all but depleted, and anything left over, essentially useless, it was still wise to check.

“The population of Scottsboro was only around seventeen thousand at its peak. I’m thinking we might still find a few things of use.” She didn’t respond and so he figured to entice her further. “Scottsboro also had a public library.”

Her brow lifted at that. “Perfect timing. There’s a book I’d like to find.”

“Already tired of Harry Potter? And what of Twilight? What are we today? Team Edward or Team Jacob?”

She scowled. “Don’t make fun. You’ve enjoyed it just as much as I have. Admit it.”

He smothered a grin. “Never! So what book?”

She swerved around a hollowed-out fragment of tire. “I’m thinking Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea”

“Jules Verne,” he nodded appreciatively. “A classic. I’m impressed. Indeed we’ll find it.” He eyed the hulking shapes of rusted cars that crisscrossed their path and pulled in front to take the lead. “Sam,” he broached carefully, “I’d like to try and find a nursery as well.”

He heard her front tire skid against a smattering of sandy pebbles.

“A nursery? Carp, I don’t think I wanna step foot inside a nursery. What materials could you hope to find there? I’m a bit old for diapers.”

“Not a
baby
nursery, Pike. A garden nursery, for plants and seeds. I was thinking once we get to San Diego we might select a large home up on the hills of Point Loma, something that overlooks the bay. And I was thinking we might plant a new garden.”

He awaited her reply and could imagine the smile that would brighten her face, and when finally she spoke, her voice wavered with emotion. “I think Mom would’ve liked that.”

“Me too,” he agreed, “So I’m thinking we locate a nursery and stock up on seed packets. I think pretty much anything grows in San Diego.”

“Pretty much anything grew in Sevierville, too,” she countered sulkily.

She had a point. He knew this wound was still fresh and tender, that it would be ulcerated and festering for quite some time. So it would be for him as well, he admitted. He was only fearful that she might never recover from it. Leaving home had been the hardest thing they’d had to do, probably ever in their lives thus far. They’d had everything in Sevierville. Everything they’d needed and anything they’d desired. Thanks to Jeremy’s father of course.

Stupidly, Jeremy had become too comfortable there, had begun to believe they were invincible, untouchable in this world that lay dying and decaying around them; that somehow they were lucky enough to live inside a protective bubble that would keep the claws of extinction from touching them. Despite the reduced oxygen in the air and the foulness of the rain, despite the spoiling of food, and the failing of the power grids, their small family had remained and flourished, defiant in the face of annihilation. It was the type of confidence that accumulated over time, the type of assurance that could only be solidified by years and years of sustained routine.

In that cabin they’d lived as a family since Sam’s birth. It was all she’d ever known. More importantly, it was the place she felt connected to her mother, and if he were being honest with himself, he was hoping to recreate a bit of those feelings of home in San Diego. The garden would be the first step. The planting and cultivating of it had brought their family together in such a profound way. It was one thing to sit beside the fire and read books, but it was quite another to work beside one another, shoulder-to-shoulder, and bring life back to the earth. These were the most precious of Jeremy’s memories. These were the treasures that he kept close to his heart, the riches more valuable to him than money had ever been.

“Not like that,” his wife had gently corrected after he’d haphazardly scattered spinach seeds across the rich, black soil.

Sam’s laugh had the resonance of a finely crafted wood chime in his memories. “Dad, if you scatter them across the soil, they won’t grow any roots. They’ll just blow away in the wind. Right Mom?”

He watched her move to gather the tiny seedlings then crouch beside the small mounds of earth, her little fingers pressing each seed about an inch beneath the top layer of soil.

He crossed his arms and appraised her with pride, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Yup. You’re way’s better, kiddo.”

He and Susan had allowed her to plant the seeds on her own. Together the three of them had trenched and overturned the soil in long parallel rows that meandered down the mountain, and together they’d placed small flat stones to serve as markers between each row, but Jeremy and Susan had left the placement of the actual seeds to Sam.

“Now we just have to wait for the rain,” Susan noted.

“But what if it doesn’t rain, Mom?”

“If it doesn’t rain then nothing will grow. That’s just how it works, pumpkin.”

Jeremy remembered the way Sam would run out the door, morning after morning, bare feet scampering across the earth, drop to her hands and knees, and peer into the soil for any signs of new life. She’d clap her small hands, and yell to them to ‘come look’ at the young sprouts that, against all odds, had struggled to push through the soil and bathe in the sun’s light.

He’d first mentioned the cart to Susan one bright and warm morning, as they stood shoulder-to-shoulder, coffee cups in hand, and watched their beautiful daughter dart between rows and delicately insert sticks into the soil beside the tomato plants. Susan had taught her well and Jeremy loved to watch her slender fingers expertly tie the tall stalks to wood sticks in loose knots.

That particular morning he’d noticed smoke from the night before still visible over peaks of mountains that were at a lower elevation than the one they liked to call their own. He hadn’t meant to scare his wife, but true to form, he most assuredly had.

“I’ve been thinking about the cart,” he remembered mumbling between sips. “We’re not using it for anything. I think we should fill it with supplies and wheel it to the base of the mountain.”

“What for?” she’d queried as her eyes followed the movements of her child outside the big picture window.

“Just in case. I mean after what happened last night…”

“We don’t know what happened last night,” she interrupted smoothly.

“No,” he permitted, “but that wasn’t a natural fire. It was an explosion. Nature doesn’t create explosions. There are people out there on that hill, Suse. People who’ve become uncomfortably close.”

She turned to him. “So what does that have to do with the cart?”

He swallowed and inhaled deeply. She wouldn’t like this. “I think we should fill it with supplies and then wheel it far from the house, deep into the woods where nobody could find it but us. I think we should camouflage it with the green tarps and weatherize it inside a thick casing of plastic.”

Her brows had knit together as he watched her connect the dots. “You mean like a get-away cart? You think we’re going to be driven from our home, Jeremy?”

He shrugged non-committedly in an effort to take the edge off the alarm in her eyes. “I don’t know. I mean I figure we should just do it right? What could it hurt? We’ve plenty of supplies, and the cart’s just sitting there. I think its just sound planning.”

“All right,” she said slowly, “but I only want to do it after Sam goes to bed. I don’t want her to even imagine that such a thing could be possible.”

Thank God they’d eventually done it, he thought as he carefully negotiated his bike between piles of wreckage that dotted the road. Because they had needed it, and it had actually ended up saving their lives. Eventually they’d been sent scurrying into the night like so many others before them. Eventually they’d been forced to abandon the sanctuary of a perfect life they’d grown to love and cherish. Eventually they’d been forced to brave the discomforts of this new one.

Sadly, I am one of a growing chorus of people who believe that, yes, it is too late to turn things around. So many species are in such low numbers, and habitats are so badly damaged, that restoring them to their original splendor is simply no longer possible. I believe that our only option now is to decide how much we value what we currently have, and to decide what we are willing to do to maintain it -- or at least slow down its disappearance. But honestly, can you really see all 7 billion of us agreeing on that?"

—Dr. Lisa-Ann Gershwin

He watched her pour another glass of juice and admired the way her silk slip skimmed her curves. The bed was warm where she’d lain and his skin felt uncomfortably chilled in places where the warmth of skin that had pressed against his own had suddenly withdrawn.

“I think I’m going to need another glass after this day,” she muttered with a strange cackle.

“No wine?” he queried as he tried to catch her hand.

A twinkle lit her eyes. “Not tonight. No.”

He marveled at her effortless beauty as she crossed the room and slipped once more beneath the covers. The white silk of her gown whispered against the cotton sheets, and immediately, he curled his legs around hers.

“I’m still in shock as well,” he agreed, easily reading her body language. “I’ve never seen a bloom that pervasive. Hell, I’ve never seen a nomura jellyfish in person. It’s like something out of a science fiction movie.”

His skin prickled at the memory. The day had truly been extraordinary, a turning point really. Well, if not a turning point, then most certainly another nail in the proverbial coffin. Many of the
Kazunoko’s
crew hadn’t spoken English, but Liam had found the language of fear to be universal. The trawler had taken them forty knots off the coast of Echizen, where immediately, they’d encountered the bloom. The sheer size of it had taken Liam’s breath away, and the ship’s crew had worked tirelessly to keep them upstream of the mass of tangling bodies. Reflexively he’d reached for Olivia’s hand, and the two stood in silence as they surveyed the field of jellies spread before them.

These were not the jellyfish he remembered as a young boy swimming the dark murky waters of the Jersey Shore. No. These were nomura jellyfish, the stuff of monstrous nightmares. The specimens were massive, their bells, in some cases, reaching a length of seven feet. Olivia had estimated the weight of each at nearly 450 pounds. But it was more than the size of any individual specimen that had so captivated him. It was the sheer quantity of the bloom itself. There were hundreds upon hundreds of sliding bodies that reached as far as the eye could see. They clustered and braided together in a large floating mass.

“It’s happening,” he muttered to himself. In horror he watched tangles of long poisonous tentacles weave through the water. He’d struggled even to remain this close to the boat’s low flat stern. He didn’t want to be anywhere near that tangle. It was remarkable. He couldn’t tell where one nomura ended and the next began, and silently, Olivia had agreed.

“I’m here to test the chemical components of the water, but I don’t even think I need to run the tests,” he commented quietly.

“This is due to a multitude of things, Liam. Overfishing for one. Larger predators typically control the populations of larva spawned by these giants, which begin as tiny polyps. The predators once provided a counterbalance here, a neutralization that prevented these jellies from overrunning these waters. But when those predators are removed from the equation…”

He squeezed her hand in agreement. “It’s effectively another dead zone.” He dropped her hand, pulled a folded map from his pocket, and then pointed to the outline of China. “I think, chemically, the root of the problem began here. The runoff of fertilizers and sewage from China’s coastal waters contributed to a separate bloom of phytoplankton.”

Easily, she’d picked up the threads of his logic. “And the phytoplankton begat zooplankton. And the zooplankton was a rich sustenance that provided ample supplies of food to the giant jellies.”

He nodded. “These conditions combined with the rise of the water temperature inevitably increased the rate of polyp reproduction.”

“Correct.” She peered at the oceanic bodies that squeezed against one another in slippery languid movements. “These jellyfish reproduce asexually. And the warmer waters only work to increase the speed of their development.”

Liam sighed and refolded the map, slipped it into his back pocket, and ran a hand through his salty hair. “So if I continue with your biblical lexicon,” he replied with a raised brow, “the water contaminates begat the zooplankton, and the zooplankton begat the maturation of the polyps. The warmer waters and lack of predation begat the giant jellies, and the giant jellies begat what?”

She cocked her head in thought and then flashed a wily smile. “The giant jellies begat the end of sushi restaurants?”

He’d smiled then, yet both of them hadn’t laughed. “Truer words were never spoken,” he murmured. “The poisonous tentacles of these giants will kill any fish that swims within their reach. Imagine what happens when these jellies are caught up in fishing nets. Nothing could survive but the jellies themselves.”

She agreed and took the logic even further. “It’s why entire fishing catches have been lost. These jellyfish can eat ten times their body weight in a single day. Their existence alone is systematically wiping out large fish populations.”

The afternoon had been surreal. They’d watched the swarm of mindless carnivores in horror, and Liam had taken his samples, flinching from the surging jellies as he fumbled to find a clear patch of water. This was but one more stop he and Olivia had made on their whirlwind tour of devastation. Over the past few months, they’d journeyed from one disastrous event to the next, first to Sweden to study the moon jellies, which had cost the country millions after a particularly large bloom had clogged the piping of a nuclear power plant and shut down half the country’s power grid. Next they’d been dispatched to Florida, and then to Cape Town, Africa to examine the devastating blooms of Box jellyfish and Irukandji, the two most lethally toxic stings known to man. Those beaches had been permanently closed at least a decade prior, and with the discovery of the toxic dead zones, Liam didn’t think they’d ever open again.

Yes, the day had been a difficult one. He fluffed the pillow behind his head and propped himself on his elbow. The jellyfish problem was one of many they’d been sent to research, and it was a problem, sure, but more of an economical one. His concerns were of a more chemical leaning.

He and Olivia had flown into Japan late the prior evening where members of the United States army had whisked them to the institute amid crowded streets of homeless refugees. Those who’d been displaced walked the sides of the muddy streets, a suddenly stateless people, who had depended on the oceans for both food and work. In as little as two decades, Japan had fallen from the status of technological giant to that of a third world country. And third world countries had devolved into barren wastelands. The situation here was grave, and Liam wanted to go home as soon as possible.

“Olivia,” he ventured cautiously. “I’ve taken my samples and we’re headed home tomorrow. Have you given any thought to your future plans?”

She untangled herself from him and sat cross-legged on the bed, faced him, and swirled the juice in her glass as though she wished it were wine. “Well, we did all we could in D.C. and we’ve done all we can here. We’ve visited almost every natural disaster with a biological element that might require my presence, so I suppose I’m no longer needed.” She peered into her glass, and then raised her gaze to look upon him beneath feathery lashes. “But I’d like to stay on with you if that’s possible.”

He stared into her deep blue eyes and thought to give voice to the plan he’d begun to hatch weeks ago. Well, he’d put his plans into motion years ago really, but he’d never thought to share those plans with someone else. The original blueprint of his post-apocalyptic life had somehow lacked the element of companionship, and he now found the idea outright startling. Had he really envisioned a life of solitude for himself? With all of his careful arranging, he’d actually thought he’d considered everything. He’d drawn maps and made lists, placed large orders, and built vast storerooms filled with floor-to-ceiling storage racks. He’d purchased generators and weaponry, and stockpiled water and bags of food. All this he’d done to extend his life beyond that of others, yet what would that life be like without a partner to share it with?

The simple fact was that he couldn’t imagine parting from Olivia now, couldn’t imagine packing things up and absconding to the mountains by himself. Peering into his own glass of sappy-sweet juice, he decided to lay his heart on the line. At this point what was left to hold him back?

“Olivia,” he risked, “I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

He saw her flinch, and immediately he second-guessed the words. He knew it was sudden, and he worried that she might think it too soon for such sentiments, but the fact remained that they didn’t have the luxury of time. He needed to make her see the truth of things. Fast.

“Before you say anything, I want you to listen.” He pushed himself up and faced her, his back stiff with anxiety. “Olivia, I think this is the beginning of the end.”

She opened her mouth to speak. “Wait,” he requested respectfully. “Hear me out. I don’t want to sound like a crazed lunatic here, but I’m not a fool either.” He met her gaze pointedly. “And neither are you.” Her mouth closed with a snap and he continued. “Liv, I think its time for me to go to ground.” He raised a hand to silence her objection. “I don’t mean completely. I just mean that it’s time to select a place, a location that meets certain criteria.” He counted his points on his fingers. “It should be an isolated place where one could own acres of land that borders minimal public places. It would have to be temperate, a place that could easily support plants and animals, a place where new plants could grow roots and flourish in the decreased oxygenation of air that’s already beginning to thin. The chosen environment can’t be arid or swampy. It can’t be overly-populated or well-traveled. It would have to be moderate. Agreeable.”

“Liam,” she whispered, “Are you saying you’re going to leave me?”

He gathered her into his arms and pressed his mouth to her ear. “No. I’m asking if you’ll come with me. I know we’ve only known each other a handful of months, but look at the society that’s crumbling around us. I think we need to return stateside and move to a more isolated place.”

She pushed from his chest to peer into his eyes. “You think it’s that bad already?”

He blew out a breath. “I do. Jellyfish blooms aside, the real problem lies in the chemistry. Liv, the oceans are becoming anoxic. I ran tests in Sweden, off the coast of India, in Wales, and here in Japan. We’ve reached the point of no return, the point at which we have to make personal decisions about our longevity. It’s time to begin thinking selfishly I’m afraid. When we were in D.C., there were rumors circulating that the United States was going to shut its borders. Permanently.”

He plucked the glass from her grip, set it on the nightstand, and caught her hands in his. “Countries are going to begin closing ranks. There are just too many starving refugees seeking asylum out there, too many for any one country to take in. It’s become as much an economical situation as it’s been a political one.” He dropped her hands and nervously gathered his hair in a low knot. “But it’s the anoxia that’ll finally do us in, Liv. It already is. The Polar Regions have warmed at a faster rate than the water at the equator, which has decreased the temperature differences between both regions. It’s been happening for decades. It’s just that we’re finally beginning to see the effects now. Ocean circulation is driven by this temperature difference, and since the differential is becoming less pronounced, the currents are shutting down. Without turnover in the water or a churning of the currents, oxygen no longer mixes with the water and bacteria takes over. Liv, the oceans are becoming…” He struggled for the right word.

“Stagnant,” she finished dully.

“Yes. Stagnant. And didn’t your mother always warn you to stay away from pools of stagnant water? Think about what kind of effect this would have on the world at large if the entire ocean were to become a stagnant pool of stinking water. Olivia, in a world such as this, it’ll be those who haven’t planned that’ll eventually perish. Large-scale production of food will cease. There won’t be any more to pass around, and limited places where
new
food can be developed.”

“Our country is rich in supplies, undoubtedly. There’s a convenience mart or grocery store on almost every block. But how long will those supplies last? And how will people treat one another to claim rights to them? It’s a world I don’t want to be a part of. It’s a world we need to sequester ourselves from until the worst of it plays out. I’m not suggesting we withdraw from society completely. I’m not even suggesting the collapse is imminent. I only submit that we begin to set up a safety net, that we begin to sketch the diagram of a possible new life should the one that exists fail us. Liv, I’m asking you to join me.”

“Join you?”

Her eyes were wide, and though he hadn’t meant to say the words just yet, he found them spilling from his lips nonetheless.

“Liv, I’m asking you to marry me.”

Her mouth hung open in surprise, and at once he felt embarrassment lift the hairs on his neck and arms. It was too soon. She probably thought him a complete nut. Furiously, he tried to backpedal, to give her an easy out. “You don’t have to answer now,” he exclaimed dejectedly, “there’s no rush. I mean, just think about it. Take whatever time you need. It’s just an idea, really.”