Dust (35 page)

A summertime spring blossomed with the buds that sprouted on the branches of the trees. I could smell them; the scents of nature pelted me. The air was warm, but fresh. I wanted to stand in the moving jeep and raise my arms with an enthused scream. But I kept my excitement in check. I wanted to see my kids, the cabin; I wanted to see it all before I shouted to the heavens a humongous ‘thank you!’

My eyes stayed ahead, and I ignored Tanner’s continuous questioning of whether or not we took the wrong road.

“It’s only a mile or so. Only a mile.” I repeated.

Then, I saw it. No, I heard. The sound of laughter, Burke disciplining for them to ‘leave the water pump alone’. I beckoned Tanner to hurry, and he obliged without argument.

“Mommy!” a sopping wet Matty screamed my name when we stopped the jeep.

Davy delivered one more pump of water over Simon’s head, and then he spotted us as well. “Mom! Burke! Mom’s here!”

Simon finally joined my children in racing to greet me. My arms extended to them, wet or not, I needed to give them a hug. And I did.

The squeak of the screen porch door, caught my attention, and I looked up to see Burke stepping out.

“I’ll be damned.” Burked walked off the porch. “Look at you. GI Jo.” He reached out and embraced me, and extended a hand to Tanner as he did. “You guys look great.”

“I’ve been showering,” I said.

Burke sniffed loudly. “Yeah, you smell it.”

Laughing, I gave a playful smack to Burke’s chest. “Thank you for taking care of them.”

“Jo, it’s been a blast.” Burke explained. “You should have seen them when we got here. The first thing they did, no, the first thing we all did was enjoy the well water. Then when Craig tested the stream and said it was clean, man we all went swimming. Before we even unpacked.”

Davy interjected, “We got the seeds planted. We don’t know if they’ll take, not yet. But we did.”

Matty added, “And we only had to remove ten inches of dirt.”

I stepped back to take a look at all it. The cabin was still as I remembered it. The old fashion water pump perched right before it. Burke added a glider on the porch; I didn’t recall that. But the property was wide, huge, tree lined and evidently starting to grow all over again.

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

“You just missed them.” Burke answered. “Rod, Craig, Nicky and Dan, decided to walk to Redman. You know, see what’s left of the town. They’ll be back. Shortly.”

I nodded and turned to Tanner. He looked stunned, his eyes shifted about as if he were studying something he had never seen before. “Tanner? What do you think?”

“I think …” he breathed out. “I think if you ever needed a confirmation that life goes on, life prevails. This is it.” He smiled. “This is it.”
 

28. Completion
 

The small farming town of Redman laid six miles north of Burke’s cabin. Its pre-bomb population of 2,841 had dwindled down to 305. But it was still 305 people alive and well. They accredited their survival to picking up broken radio signals about the impending nuclear cloud. They stockpiled, they bunked down, they survived.

They were reorganizing nicely, and planned to do their best to grow some food for a late harvest. Burke entered into a barter arrangement with them around Thirty days AB.

News traveled fast, and word that Tanner was a doctor hit Redman, and then Redman hit us. Not even three days after our arrival, Tanner was fixing injuries. He delivered the first post-nuclear war baby on day forty-one AB. A healthy, happy, baby girl. We were all ecstatic.

Dan moved to Redman almost immediately. It made sense. After all, why would he want to stay in a three-bedroom cabin with us, when he had his pick of the litter in Redman? Rod followed suit about a week later. But Rod’s never far away. He works everyday at our cabin, plus vowed to rekindle the newspaper, even if he had to create his own news to make it entertaining.

For us, Davy had become the official record keeper. What day things happened and so forth. Adjustment was not a problem for the kids.

Nicky and Craig had the biggest adjustment. I thought for a while they were not going to continue to be a couple until Tanner delivered the news to them on Day fifty-eight AB, that they were going to have a baby. Nicky was pregnant. Davy immediately became grossed out in the revelation that they had sex while we were all in the same cabin.

Nicky’s pregnancy made Tanner think. He brought up the subject to me, that perhaps one day he and I would have a child. It never dawned on me to do so, to move on in such a capacity. But I told him eventually we would—one step at a time.

It seemed, for the longest duration, civilization had started all over again. Gone with the old, in with the new. The daily checks to the mobile Army radio bred nothing.

Until day seventy-seven AB. Nearly three months after the bombs, the radio crackled, and a man identified as General Edmunds gave orders to Tanner. I thought it was some sort of militia joke, but Tanner knew Edmunds well.

I was frightened; I thought Tanner was leaving me. But he wasn’t. Four remaining leaders of the United States military had initiated seventeen major ‘hubs’. Pittsburgh was one of them. The hubs would be main stations and distribution centers. A place where the lone survivor, or family could go and find out where the nearest functioning community was located. There was no promise that the reorganization would last, but they were giving it a shot. Basically, the new government wasn’t setting out to establish camps, but rather aid and assist those civilizations already in existence.

I was in luck. We were in luck. Tanner informed them of Redman, and the government informed Tanner assistance would be given. Tanner had to go to Pittsburgh first.

“Jo, no.” Tanner shook his head as he got into the jeep. “I won’t be gone long. I have to check in, give statistics and I’ll be right back.”

“Please?”

“No.” he darted a quick kiss to me and turned the ignition on the jeep. “Stay here.”

“I want to go.”

“The last time I took you in this jeep, you bitched the entire time that my driving made you sick.”

I mustered up the most pitiful face I could. “Tanner?” I spoke softy. “Please.”

“Why? Tell me why this is so important to you?”

It was going to sound stupid and I knew it. I debated for a moment, tapping my hands on his door. “OK, this general guy told you that they plan to bulldoze the entire area around the old rescue station, right?”

“Yes. So.”

“So that’s my old house, Tanner. Let me go back and see it one more time. Let me just check to see if there are pictures I want to grab. Things I may have left there. I also think I’m ready to get my notebook back. I want it back. Please?”

Tanner huffed out. “Fine. Get in.”

“Yes.” I did a little jump of excitement and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. This is why I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He shook his head.

I slid in the jeep.

“You better tell Burke you’re leaving.”

“I already did.”

“Christ. I’m such a sucker.” He shifted the gear into reverse and backed up. We were on our way.

***

“What’s going on?” I asked, as we pulled closer to my street. A military truck blocked the entrance.

“We’ll find out.” Tanner drove the jeep to the truck and stopped. “Gentlemen.” He called to the soldiers. “What’s going on?”

After a salute, the one soldier walked to the jeep. “Morning, Sir. We’re just blocking the street as a precaution. Trucks have been transporting people in from other cities, and we don’t want to take a chance they’ll settle here. This street is slated for clearing day after tomorrow.”

I nudged Tanner. “See, just in time.”

Tanner ignored me. “Can she go through? She used to live here, and wants to see her house while I head to the station. I’ll vouch for her.”

The soldier shrugged. “Sure.”

“Thanks.” I smiled, and started to get out.

Tanner grabbed my hand and stopped me. “I won’t be long. Neither should you. If you run into problems, scream. They’ll hear you.”

“Got it.”

“And get what you need. See what you have to, and come back to these guys. OK?”

“But … can’t you just come down and get me when you’re done?”

“Jo.” Tanner whispered. “Come on, I don’t want to take a chance. What if I get delayed? I don’t want you by yourself. Please?”

“All right. I’ll be fast.” I stepped from the jeep. “Tanner? Thank you.”

Tanner smiled and winked. He gave a nod of acknowledgement to the soldiers as he drove away. Then I began my journey.

“Ma’am.” The soldier called to me. “Would you like me to go with you?”

“No. I’m fine. I’m a few houses down.” I pointed. “Just keep an ear out for me.” I gave a wave and continued walking. My house wasn’t far. It amazed me that I wasn’t upset when I saw my street again. I knew I had really put it behind me when the site of the remaining destruction barely fazed me. My home, Mark’s home, they were my past.

Without a doubt, just to do it, I was going to stop and see Mark’s basement. After all we had lived there and it was our saving grace. In fact, it was going to be my first stop, until I saw my front door was open.

I had put a lot of closure into my last day at my home, so I distinctively remembered closing the front door. It didn’t dawn on me that anyone was in my house; it never even crossed my mind until I stepped on my porch.

Through my open front door I could see into my dining room, and I spotted what looked to be a man, wearing a green military jacket and bandana, seated at the table. My heart jumped to my throat, and I debated on running and getting one of the soldiers. But as I looked again, I saw him slowly flipping pages. Pages to the notebook I left on the table. Enraged by the invasion of my privacy, I didn’t pause to think of the consequences, and I grabbed a board that lay on my porch.

Holding it like a bat, I stepped quietly into my house. The floorboards creaked, but the man didn’t budge. He was smaller, and that eased any worry I had. Another step, and I stopped again when I caught glimpse of the left side of his face. His ear was gone, his cheek heavily scarred from burns.

He turned another page and chuckled.

How dare him?

“Get …” I graveled my voice and raised the board. “Out of my house!” I charged his way, readied to swing, and then he jolted around to face me.

Inches from connection, I froze. The board toppled from my hand, fell to the ground and I trembled out of control.

Mona stood up. “You got the story a little wrong,” she said. “I was eight miles outside of Tulsa.”

I was silent. I couldn’t speak, move, I don’t even think I took a breath.

“I was able to get below. But still …” She pointed to her face. “Jo? Jo, say something.”

“Oh, my God.” I whispered, slowly my hand reached out, almost as if I was afraid to touch her.

“I’m sorry it took so long. But I’m here now. Thank you.” Mona grabbed my hand. “Thank you for never giving up on me.”

The moment she touched me was the moment I knew it was real. Emotionally, and long, I gasped out the breath that I held, and then I grabbed on to Mona. The tears at that moment were unimaginable; the embrace kept us both from losing our balance. We held on, and we cried, right there in my dining room for the longest of time. No words. Just holding on to a piece of life we both thought was gone.