Authors: Mark Campbell
“Well back then I usually had beer, a campfire, and good
friends,” Jerri said with a smirk. “Now I have a baby, a dope fiend, and a
cop for company. It’s also a lot colder than I remember.”
Jerri smiled.
“What kind of things did you do… before?” she asked.
“What? Before I found my calling working at Best Buy?”
Jerri laughed.
Chris, walking ahead of the group, rolled his eyes. He was starting
to feel like he was coming down with the flu, the first effects of morphine
withdrawal. It had been over twenty-four hours since he last got high.
“Well,” Andrew mused, “I guess I liked to travel more than
anything else.” He stopped and looked over at her. “I guess that’s kind of
a cheap answer, isn’t it?”
Jerri nodded.
“Everyone says that they love to travel,” she said.
“Most of the mid-west and the deep south,” Andrew said. “I
think it’s now safe to add Arizona to the list. Fuck the Grand Canyon.
Just send me a post card.”
“How about you? Did you travel much?” Andrew asked.
Jerri shook her head.
“I never left the state, being busy with work and all,” she said. “I
was going to take a huge trip to New York… but the Piedmont Flu saw
an end to that dream.”
“No, I actually went to college, thank you very much,” she said in
a playful tone. “I worked part-time as a manager trainee at a rental car
outlet.”
They both looked at each other and started laughing.
Chris stopped walking and stared ahead, bewildered at the sight.
The dirt road had finally come to an end.
“Guys, I think we’ve reached the end of the road,” he said.
The road ended at a derelict helipad and a small dilapidated
shack. The helipad’s asphalt was cracked and the painted yellow ‘H’ had
mostly peeled away. The shack was weather-beaten and its two windows
were shattered. The door was swung halfway open. An army jeep, covered
in sand, sat next to the shack; one of its rear tires was flat. A gas pump sat
next to the jeep. A ramshackle chain-link fence encrusted with rust
surrounded the area and portions of the fence had toppled against the
ground.
“Think that jeep still runs?” Chris asked, staring at it.
Andrew gave him a threatening glance.
Jerri followed behind him, holding Jacob tight. The baby was still
fast asleep but she knew that when he woke up he would be hungry and
she wasn’t even sure if she could feed him. She never even had a child
before and wasn’t even sure if she could lactate. In her youth came certain
ignorance.
As Andrew approached the shack, the cracked door swung open
and two javelinas scurried out of the shack, snorting and grunting as they
bounded past the intruding humans.
Andrew, embarrassed, got back on his feet and picked up his gun
as the group composed themselves and the still of the night returned once
again.
The interior of the shack was dirty and the floor was covered
with sand and shards of glass from the shattered windows. Thorny
shrubbery, tattered clothes, and clumps of mud made a crude nest in the
corner of the room, undoubtedly courteously of the former hooved
residents. A bench sat against the rear wall and two military lockers, both
of which were still sealed shut, sat next to the bench. An army cot sat
against one of the walls, covered in cobwebs. A weathered sign with a dry
erase marker attached to it on a chain hung above the bench:
Despite the devastation, a result of derogation combined with the
aftermath of a desert storm, it didn’t appear like a human had been in the
derelict shack for quite some time.
Andrew hurried to the lockers and searched through them,
throwing the mounds of trash stored in them out onto the floor. Empty
MRE containers and old books filled both lockers.
“Found some,” Andrew happily announced. He was holding a
green metallic ration box. “We’re lucky that nobody stumbled across this
place.”
The three sat on the bench and ate and drank, taking conservative
bites and careful sips. No matter how long you stretch it, a small meal is a
small meal and nobody felt satisfied.
Andrew and Jerri each managed to save one of their bars.
Andrew saved half of his water and handed to Jerri.
“For Jacob,” Andrew said.
Jerri smiled.
“Thanks.”
Chris left nothing behind.
Jerri walked over to the cot, brushed off the accumulated
cobwebs, and sat down. She slowly lifted her shirt, hesitant, not even sure
how to proceed.
Jerri lowered her shirt back down and sighed.
Someone knocked on the door.
“Is it safe?” Andrew announced from outside.
“I’m guessing no luck?”
Jerri shook her head.
“I figured…” he answered, walking over to the cot. He sat next
to her and looked over at her. “I have something that may be able to help.
Let me see the water I gave you.”
Chris walked into the shack, avoiding making eye contact with
anybody, and sat huddled in the corner with his knees against his chest.
His body was trembling and he was sweating.
“What are we going to do?” she asked, bringing her attention
back to Andrew. “Our tour guide looks like he’s going to be going to be
detoxing for a few days…”
“True,” Andrew said. “But for now, we’re going to sleep and try
to get that jeep moving in the morning. All we have to do is find a way to
the interstate. I’m going to sleep in the jeep tonight and keep an eye
open… make sure that nobody sneaks up on us.”
“Don’t you need sleep?” Jerri asked, looking down at Jacob. The
baby had fallen asleep with the tip of his little tongue still in the water
bottle. She took the bottle from him and screwed the cap back on. At
least it would feed him for a while until they came across some real
supplies.
Andrew walked outside and shut the door behind him. He didn’t
know how to break the news to her that the baby would most likely
starve, so he didn’t mention it. A premature baby required attention that
they just couldn’t facilitate.
J
erri woke up in her old dorm back in Camp 6. Her eyes slowly
adjusted to the moldy ceiling overhead and she took a deep breath. She
sat up and startled when she saw Mitch standing in the corner of the
room, leaning against the dresser.
“Hey sexy,” Mitch said with a smile. He was wearing his usual
pair of jeans and a gray hoodie. His sandy blonde hair looked as untamed
as always. He was holding a joint, nearly smoked all the way down. He
held it out to her. “Want a hit?”
She shook her head, confused.
“You know I don’t smoke,” she said, rubbing her temples.