Dust (33 page)

After getting an ‘at ease’ nod from Tanner, the one soldier spoke, “We nabbed him right away. Luckily too. We were on our way to the compound shelter for the cloud, when we spotted him walking.”

“It was two weeks,” Mick said. “Jo, you always said wait two weeks. I waited what I thought was two weeks. I was in the subway tunnel. Me and six others. But they only grabbed me.” Mick shrugged. “The military tortured me.” He pulled off his hat. “Shaved my head. I wasn’t even sick or losing my hair, they shaved my head. And …” He rolled up his sleeve. “They tattooed me one night.”

“You loved it.” The one soldier joked. “You know it.”

Mick smiled. “Yeah, I did.” He looked at me. “Hey, Jo. Where’s my mom?”

Silence. I should have expected that question.

“Jo?” Mick looked about the faces that welcomed him. “My mom’s not here is she?”

I slowly shook my head. “I’m sorry Mick.”

Mick puckered his lips and nodded. “Do you know how? Was she killed in the blast? Did she ever make it here?”

“Yes.” I answered apprehensively. “She made it. But she got sick. She got really sick. See, she looked and looked for you.”

“Why?” Mick asked with desperation. “Why did she look for me? Didn’t we say two weeks? Didn’t she think I listened? Would she have lived if she didn’t look for me?”

Quickly, Tanner interjected. “No, son. You’re mom had burns and cuts that were affected by the blast. She wouldn’t have lived if she stayed indoors. So she looked for you. I’m glad you’re all right.”

Davy spoke up, “And just in time too. Dude, we’re leaving for the cabin tomorrow.”

“Speaking of leaving.” Tanner looked at his watch then to the soldiers. “Gentlemen. Is there a military left? Have you heard anything?”

The other soldier answered, “Sir, we don’t believe there’s much of one. We were told to go to the hub, which is the rescue station. They don’t think everyone is gonna show. Barricades are down. Things are dead out here. There is talk of restructuring, but when that will happen…” he lifted his shoulders. “Who knows.”

“But we’re to meet at the hub?” Tanner asked and received a nod. “OK, then let’s go. Can I get a lift?”

“Yes, sir.” The first soldier answered. “Jeep’s this way.”

Tanner exhaled and faced our group. “This is where I go. Thank you for having me.” He edged from the circle. “I’ll be seeing you guys in a short while.” Adjusting his duffle bag, he lifted his hand in a wave and backed up with the soldiers.

What? Wait? My mind cried out. He was just leaving? Like that? Arms folded tight to my body, I couldn’t help but watch. My eyes glued to Tanner. I wanted to call to him, tell him to hold on, I wanted to say goodbye. But I said nothing.

Just about at the jeep, Tanner handed his bag to the one soldier and walked back down to us. His eyes locked on me, as he reached out for my arm. “Jo, can I pull you away for a second?”

“Um … sure,” I replied, lost for anything else to say.

Holding my arm, Tanner led me up the driveway. Far enough away from a good earshot of the group, he stopped and turned me to face him.

“Jo,” he spoke in a near whisper. “I’m sorry for pulling you away. But, I wanted to say goodbye to you alone. Don’t ask me why. But I wanted it to be private.”

I looked over my shoulder to everyone who watched. “Tanner? There’s eight people over there.”

He chuckled. “It’s still more private then saying it in front of them.” His hands gripped my shoulders, and he appeared apprehensive, maybe even nervous.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing. I just want to thank you for everything. You know, just … thank you. I won’t say how, or what, but know you did a lot for me. More than you realize.”

“Tanner?” I peered at him with question.

Shaking his head, Tanner smiled. “Don’t ask. And also know, there’s nothing in this world that is going to stop me from joining you guys at that cabin. I have directions. I’ll find it. So, it’s not a matter of ‘if’, it’s just a matter of ‘when’. OK?”

“Ok.”

Tanner exhaled. “Ok. So, with that being said …” Another nervous exhale, and Tanner slid his hands upward. Cupping my face gently between the palms of his hands, Tanner leaned forward and kissed me.

I couldn’t determine whether or not it was the surprise of the kiss, or the kiss itself that sent a jolt through me. It was different. The moment the softness of his lips met mine; Tanner paused, keeping us in a connection for a longer moment.

I was still startled when he pulled away.

“Take care of yourself, Jo.” He flashed a peaceful smile, stepped back and walked to the jeep.

As usual, my response was only a nod. A single nod I believe, not even much. Frozen in my stance, I watched Tanner get into the jeep. He waved as the jeep jerked and looked back as they drove away. I stayed there until he was no longer seen. But that was all I did. I bid no farewell, proclaimed no thanks, or even wished him well. I said nothing. I did nothing. I failed at performing the simple task of a wave.

Nothing.

I just stood there.

***

The night was difficult for many reasons. We went from arctic temperatures to summer degrees in a matter of hours. The basement warmed up quickly, the open windows—the few that there were—did little to cool the air. Going outside wasn’t an option; it rained too hard.

The enthusiasm to go to the cabin was enormous. Everyone wanted to go. Just go. But the next day was ‘D’ day and for that we would wait.

Craig, didn’t just jump start one vehicle, he obtained two. His reasoning made perfect sense. At several hours before sundown, Craig and Dan took one of the cars, packed up a load of stuff and left. They headed to the cabin first. None of us had even thought to do that, but since Rod made us all neurotic with his fears that the cabin was gone, destroyed, or taken over by squatters, we encouraged Craig and Dan’s initial venture.

Radio contact from them would be useless. We were pretty certain Burke’s cabin was out of radio range, so we hinged on the age-old saying, ‘no news is good news’. We set a ‘sigh of relief’ time for eleven PM; if they hadn’t returned, that was our sign that the cabin was fine, intact, and awaiting our arrival. With plenty of enough gas, we ruled out that possibility. Plus, Mick informed us that he saw no one on the roads, it was barren, and that helped in making us confident that Craig or Dan weren’t shot.

Falling asleep would have been tough if it weren’t for Simon. The child exhausted us. Not from chasing him, but stopping him. Simon felt compelled to tell Mick—every chance he got—what Tammy had done.

“Your mom tried to kill me,” Simon would say. “Mick. Mick. Did you hear me, Mick? Your mom tried to kill me. Tanner had to punch me in my chest. See?” then Simon would lift his shirt to show the huge bruise on his chest.

How many times did Simon do that? How many times would one of us interject? Mick never asked for further explanation. Perhaps he understood, or maybe he didn’t believe Simon. Whatever the case, down the road, the subject would come up again. When the freshness wore off. When Mick was done mourning.

It stopped raining, just about the time I decided I would try to rest. Every once and a while a hint of foul stench would blow through the window with a cooling breeze. It wasn’t overbearing, nor did it warrant closing the windows. The night had cleared. Somehow I wish my mind had done the same.

I felt in the fog, preoccupied, something was definitely bothering me. I was unable to pinpoint exactly what it was. I thought I knew, but passed it off as an insane notion. Finally, I chalked it all up to nervousness and to leaving. We weren’t just leaving; we were setting forth as the new settlers of a Babylon world. Starting anew, conquering familiar territory as if an uncharted terrain. There was so much unknown, up in the air, and left to fate. But I was certain of one thing. The next morning light would be our start. And no matter how difficult, no matter how much of a struggle, we would take the road to building the stronger, brighter future we all sought and needed in our lives.

26. Leaving
 

Burke complained, loudly too. Barreling his body around the shelter, banging things around, I didn’t need to see him to know what he did, I heard him. Every footstep he took, item he moved, word he spoke.

“You know …” Burke griped in the distance. “For a bunch of people who couldn’t wait to get going, you’re moving like molasses.”

In my bedroom, a room that I shared with my family and Burke, I stood alone. My eyes transfixed on my packed bag as my mind wandered into thought.

Burke continued, “We got the truck nearly done. Let’s go. I only want to start it once.”

Before dawn had even arrived, I spoke to everyone, Davy, Matty, Rod, everyone but Burke. Perhaps because I knew he was the hardest.

“Jo.” He called into the bedroom.

His presence and voice caused me to jump. “Hey, Burke.” I zipped up my bag.

“Almost ready?”

Exhaling, I turned around. “No.”

“No?” he asked.

“No. There’s something I need to do. We need to talk.” I walked over and closed the door.

***

Somehow I knew Burke wouldn’t be all that keen on the task I needed to undertake. He called me insane, ridiculous, refused to let me do it, and even asked if I were on my period. He failed to see my reasoning. My best attempts of explaining were futile, because truth be known, I myself wasn’t too clear on the reasoning. How do you explain that it just ‘feels’ right?

Reluctantly, due to my persistence, Burke said, ‘fine’.

The actions I needed to take didn’t become evident until Matty asked me if I thought everything was going to be fine at the cabin. I told her it would be and for her to just have faith.

Have faith.

That was what Tanner told me not three nights earlier. It was in repeating his simple words that I hit my revelation. Tanner Niles.

Since the moment I had met him, never did I have the final word; it always went unresolved. The night he brought the antibiotics for Sam, I allowed him to leave without telling him the cause of Sam’s death. Tanner needed the truth that night, and I let him walk away.

When he said his goodbye to me before getting in the jeep, Tanner needed a response from me … I let him drive away.

There were things I needed to say, measures I debated on taking, and I couldn’t with a clear conscious leave for the cabin without a resolution with Tanner. Even though I knew I would see him again someday, I couldn’t go. I just couldn’t go.

Burke gave me a time limit of one hour. He ordered me back and said he would leave without me. At first I didn’t take him serious. Then after seeing the look in his eyes, I decided not to take the chance and I hightailed it to the rescue station.

I took the long, backdoor route, which I quickly learned was a mistake. Common sense should have told me from reading the statistics, that there was no way the station would be as flooded as it was before the cloud. It wasn’t. In fact I was thrown into disarray because the entire setup was different.

No more masses of people creating an impassible river of bodies. The few that entered into the station were scattered about. Hundreds instead of thousands. An older man with a megaphone stood near the front of the camp giving out simple instructions. The numbered tents in which I had become familiar were gone. There weren’t nearly as many tents. They were further away from the back entrance, and there seemed to be more military mobile buildings than before.

I was all ready on limited time. How in the world was I going to find Tanner?