Dust (22 page)

Tanner Niles had brought to light that I was blinded by the safety and seclusion of our bomb shelter world. My daydream fantasy that somewhere out there, people were living a happy, normal existence—shattered. It was evident how heavy the truth weighed upon Tanner. A part of me wished he hadn’t said anything.

Finally through the distressed quiet, Burke spoke up, “But it’s over, right? The war’s done. Who won?”

Slowly, Tanner raised his eyes. “It doesn’t matter now. Does it?”
 

19. Concert Tickets
 

He arrived an acquaintance and left a friend. In the cool darkness warmed by a small campfire, Tanner Niles transformed during the course of his two hour visit. He shared potent news over a strong cup a coffee. Very few words came from Burke the rest of the evening. He went in and out of the shelter quite a bit during the remainder of Tanner’s time with us. When he sat by the fire Burke appeared more in a daze, in thought.

I, on the other hand, was a virtual vat of questions. But I asked none of them. The answers could wait. Not that I didn’t want to know, I did. The informational source I found in Tanner Niles wasn’t going anywhere, or at least very far. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. No more conversations about death, radiation poisoning, bombs, nuclear winter, children lost, a nation destroyed ... I just wanted it to stop.

Stop.

At least for the evening as I sat with Burke and Tanner.

Trying to steer the conversation elsewhere, to something better, was useless. Each subject, no matter how chipper, had a cloud of doom and remembrance hanging over its topical head. If we talked about cars, we were reminded of the hustle and bustle of a defunct civilization. To recall a fun family vacation, was to remember we would never have that again. Even trying to bring up a silly children’s dinosaur program, was a painful reminder of how many children would never sit religiously around a television set again.

Would we ever again get annoyed at some strange man dressed in costume, dancing and singing ridiculous songs? How I longed for just one more day of watching Simon, chuckling around my living room, tossing his stuffed animal while reciting every word to every tune the dinosaur man played.

Never again. Not in my lifetime.

We ended up talking about cancelled sitcoms of the past. It was the safest subject we could find. It didn’t make a difference if the world had ended or not, those old shows weren’t coming back.

I wanted to embrace Tanner when he departed. Maybe for a thank you, a “Please, come back”, or even be careful, but he merely cupped my hand between both of his and gave a gentle handshake.

Goodnight.

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t a good night, it was a frightening night. The aspect of things to come set my mind whirling in confusion, and I tried to think of preparation steps we all needed to take. But planning was difficult. There was no World Wide Web, or library to race to for further information. The truth was, I needed answers to questions I should have asked. The best I could do, to ease my mind, was to jot down some random thought regarding the impending situation.

Sleeping was difficult that night. I did a lot of wondering. Briefly I discussed the situation with Burke, and he suggested we wait to tell the others. Wait until the time was closer and we had more information. There was no need in getting them upset, or worried.

I agreed.

Finally, I slept, not very deeply, nor for very long. I awoke before everyone else and just as Burke was slipping into the room to rest. That told me the sun had risen.

I found the remainder of Tanner coffee and heated it. At the kitchen table, I sat with my ‘I’ll be there’ notebook and wrote my next entry to Mona.

‘Nine Days AB. Dear Mona:
 
Great news! We found your son. He is alive and well. Today we look for Tammy’s son. Hurry to us, we are leaving soon. Jo.’

Again, it wasn’t much, but it took me forever to write it. Perhaps because I was torn on whether or not to tell Mona about what was coming our way. Fear of someone reading my notebook and discovering that information was my reason for abstaining from telling her.

Rod was the first one up. He immediately did his bucket shower then joined me for some coffee. My mood must have been obvious, because Rod made attempts to make me smile. He almost had me with his comment about how the sanitizer made his penis tingle. I was certain, later on I would laugh at that.

“OK, spill it. What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing really. I’m just distressed about going with Tammy to the station to look for her son.”

“That alone would make anyone distressed.”

I nodded, then I looked at him. Suddenly I felt guilty for not being honest about what had me down. “Rod. I’m sorry.”

“For?” he asked.

“I just lied to you.”

“About?”

“Why I’m down.”

“So, you’re not distressed about going to the aid station?”

“No. Yes.” Shaking my head, I searched for the words. “I am distressed. But ... last night, you fell asleep early. Tanner stopped by.”

“Tanner? The doctor from the station? He stopped by last night and now you’re down. Did he make a pass at you?”

“What? No,” I said shocked. “No. Gees. We were talking and he told me some things.”

Knowingly, Rod nodded. “I see. Well, Jo, you have to understand. The man right now is working with dying people. He probably chatted away as a form of therapy. I know what he told you was upsetting, Lord knows I wouldn’t want to hear it. Maybe next time you can suggest ... ”

“No.” I lifted my hand. “It’s not that. See, he ... ”

Tammy’s entrance into the kitchenette made me stop speaking. She stared at me.

“Tammy?” I called her attention. “What’s wrong?”

“Who the hell was that man knocking on my door last night?” she had bite to her mood.

Before sipping his coffee, Rod peered at me and whispered. “Nasty mood.”

After widening my eyes to Rod in agreement, I answered Tammy’s question, “Tanner Niles. He’s a doctor at the rescue station.”

Tammy nearly growled. “What the hell is the matter with you, Jo? I was trying to rest, to heal. Stay out of my business. I told you I didn’t need medical attention.”

Rod huffed, and then suddenly, he sprang to his feet. “Maybe you don’t realize the extent of the medical attention you do need.”

“Oh, what do you know?” Tammy barked. “You’re not a doctor.”

“No, I’m not.” Rod took a defensive tone. “And I probably don’t know a hell of a lot. But I know this much, toots.” He pointed and nodded. “Take a look in the mirror. Look at yourself.” With a swipe of his hand, he grabbed his cup of coffee and muttered, “Then take a good whiff.” He sighed out. “Excuse me.” Turning from us, Rod walked away.

Such a disgusted expression crossed Tammy’s face as she watched Rod leave. “What the hell is he talking about? A whiff?”

“Tammy ... ”

“I don’t want to hear it,” she snapped. “I just ... I just want to get to the station to look for my son. Are you coming or not?”

“Yeah, I am,” Sadly, I nodded and stood. “I just want to throw some different clothes on. Give me a minute.”

“I’m ready when you are.”

Tammy’s words made me stop. ‘When I’m ready?’ Going to the rescue station was a chore in itself. Going there, looking at every cot, every face, in search of her son was another story. For that, I would never be ready.

***

 
We all suffered losses—Spouses, children, parents, siblings, friends—not a single person was immune. Even the individual that had no one could mourn for the loss of the world. Everyone suffered.

I once read somewhere that there were two instances when one’s true personality would emerge. One was in drunkenness, the other was during grief.

Tammy was a horrible drunk. Because of that, she stopped drinking heavily. When the liquor consumed her, she became mean spirited, bold and aggressive. She was worse in her grieving state.

I excused her behavior to her fever, infection, pain—mostly to the fact that she could not find her child. But if the truth were known, she was horrible. Where Nicky’s bout with dementia was perky, happy and entertaining, Tammy’s was hostile and abusive. She worsened with each step we took to the station.

Nothing positive or encouraging could be said, Tammy would refute it adamantly. The fact that my children were alive and well, and her son was lost, seemed to make it into her every argument. Whether it was a founded statement or not, she weaved it in perfectly, pitting my kismet against her misfortune. When I mentioned the station wasn’t too far, Tammy retorted that I didn’t mind the walk because I wasn’t venturing to possible heartache. When I told of the little sleep I had, and how I didn’t feel tired, Tammy informed me it was because I could rest easy, my children were fine. I should never have said I was hungry, because Tammy reminded me that at least my appetite wasn’t dampened by the lost whereabouts of my family.

In all admittance, my retaliatory responses lacked guts. I firmly believe that if Burke had accompanied us to the station, he probably would have shot Tammy somewhere en route.

The great divide. It happened at the station. Sick, fevered, it didn’t matter, she crossed a line. Tammy’s words literally left me unable to move. If a physical manifestation of what I felt had occurred, my heart would have been lying on the ground.

“Do we want to split up, or do this together?” I asked. We had arrived at the station and into the throes of tents.

“Doesn’t matter.” Tammy headed in no particular direction.

“Tanner said the patients aren’t divided in any certain way.”

Tammy kept on walking.

“Maybe there’s a list of kids.” I suggested. “Tanner may know. Why don’t we find Tanner ... ”

“Enough!” her voice blared at me as she spun around. “Will you just stop!”

My mouth moved in a loss of what to say, how to react. If it was possible, I believe she brought a silence to the station. “Tammy?”

Tammy charged my way. “Tanner this. Tanner that. I’m tired of hearing about Tanner!”

“But
 
... ”

“How dare you use my kid as your excuse to come see this man.” She walked closer to me searing her words. “You could care less if we find Mick. You just want to see Tanner! The world’s over, Jo, and you’re scouring for your next love interest! It makes sense; you never really loved Sam, so of course you’d be running after this Tanner. Sam’s body is not even cold. But I’m sure you’ll justify it.”

“Why are you being like this?”

“Because you’re being like this!” Tammy screamed. “You have it all! You’ve always had it all! I wish to God, Jo, one of your children would die so you could have one inkling of what everyone else is going through!” With a hard pivot turn of her body, Tammy stormed off through the masses.

I didn’t follow. I couldn’t. All I wanted to do was get out of there, turning to do so, I saw him. Tanner. He stood only a foot away. Did he hear? He had to. The look on his face screamed that he overheard. The best I could muster up was a pucker of my lips. I felt them engorge, precluding my impending tears.

Tanner said nothing, he took a step to me, held out his hand, and I took it.

***

He brought me to his home. A hollow tin trailer set off to the side of the rescue station. Four cots were partitioned off with brown curtains. Which one was Tanner’s; I didn’t know.