It's been over a day since we left the cabin. Annie hasn't spoken 5 words since we buried Mildred beside a large limestone boulder. We were lucky enough to find fishing gear in the cottage, and so the boots and overalls have been helpful with walking around...as we aren't sure how dangerous the dampness is.
Since the rains let up, the sky has become a bit clearer. Pinkish clouds can be seen in the evening, and as we make our way north the air seems less fried. Going north was definitely the right decision.
There are now three or so hours until dawn; so we have two hours to find a place to camp for the night. There was a sign on the highway that stated a town was about an hour's drive away -- so we should be good for tonight at least.
We drive along in sombre silence. I'm trying to respect the space that Annie needs to grieve, even if her way is to become stone-like.
After a while, I break the silence.
"We're going to make it, I have a feeling." I say to Annie who doesn't turn to look at me. She stares straight ahead, eyes glued to the road.
I slink back into the passenger seat and watch the trees blur by. A moment later I try to break the silence again.
"Do you think we could stop at the next gas station? I want to pick up something for my throat." I say.
Annie nods.
A few minutes later we see a dark shadow in the distance resembling a service station. I roll down my window as the car pulls up to see if I can hear anything that might indicate danger...or dangerous people.
As Annie pulls in, we do a quick scan with the headlights to survey the place and make sure that we aren't ambushed for the car.
"Make it quick," Annie says as I hop out and head towards the window of the convenience store. I look around for something that I can throw through the window -- when I notice that the door is slightly ajar.
"Someones been here." I say to Annie as I notice that they've left the lock in place so that others may enter.
When I walk inside there is a note on the counter. It reads,
"I am a doctor. If you are reading this note please head to the pharmacy area and grab a package of Potassium Iodide pills. Take two pills per adult per day for the next few days. You will notice a frequency in your urination. This is good. Please do not take more pills than you require for the next 5 days. Please leave this note on the counter. There is a group of us, we are heading to Kirkland Lake where there is a hospital. See you there."
My heart leaps a little as I grab for a can of warm soda to try and ease the tingling in my throat. I walk towards the pharmacy aisle and find what I'm looking for and grab enough for both me and Annie.
I also grab some chapstick for my lips and aloe for the sores on my arms.
I turn to tell Annie the great news, I can't believe our good luck...when I hear it:
Two bangs from her shotgun.
And so, I duck.
"Here, spit in this" I say to Mildred as she coughs up more blood into the clean bowl that I've just brought her. She coughs for what seems like eons, and when most of the phlegm and blood has been released, she sinks back into the bed of pillows on the floor that we've made for her. Somehow, the sturdiness of the floor is offering her some comfort.
"You have to take care of her," Mildred says to me as I wipe away some of the blood that was left on her chin.
"I will," I tell her with a smile.
There is so much that I want to say to Mildred. So much that I need to thank her for. How can I ever repay her? If it wasn't for her and Annie finding me, and nursing me, and bringing me along with them -- when they didn't have to -- when it would mean less food for them...
"You're the best person I've ever met," I say to Mildred as tears begin to pool in both eyes.
"Oh, please." She says with a half laugh and a small cough.
"Mildred, how can I ever repay you? What you and Annie have done for me --" I start, but she raises her hand to shush me.
I wait for a moment watching this beautiful person struggle for air. I know she has something to say. I can hear Annie rumbling outside. The rains stopped a few hours ago, and I think she is looking to see what we can take with us on our next leg.
I take a look at Mildred, a good look. Her eyes are sunken, but they burn with a fire that wants to live. A fire that is slowly being clouded by the poison in her body.
I watch as the poison clouds away more and more of the fire in her eyes. She struggles for another breath -- one that would usually induce a coughing spree, but this time, her body is too frail to cough. She is drowning.
I don't know whether to leave Mildred and run for Annie -- I'm afraid if I leave she will be all by herself.
And no one should be by themselves when they die.
I decide to stay and grip her hand.
"Thank you, Mildred," I say with a wobbly chin as the tears begin to flow continuously from both eyes.
"Thank you, Mildred. I can never ever repay you." I say with firm conviction. Her life matters. I want her to know that.
She gathers a large breath, and between what seems like a stabbing pain in her chest and throat she manages to let out what is on her mind.
"If we can't help each other, then what is the point?" she says as her eyes go vacant and the fire is completely extinguished.
I let her words hang there in the room for a few moments, before I unclasp her hand and turn to go find Annie.
When I look behind me, Annie is standing there -- processing what just happened.
"Dawn is a few hours away. We'll bury her in the back, and leave as soon as it's dusk." She says before walking away.
I stand to follow Annie, but she disappears into a bedroom down the hall and closes the door. I let her mourn in private, hoping that maybe the spirit of Mildred is comforting her. Praying that Mildred will be able to help us on the rest of our journey. And grateful, for all that Mildred has given to us while she was here and able to do so.
I try not to think about the blister on my right foot as I quicken my step. I'm late for a meeting.
The sun is high, the birds are chirping. The world is in perfect order.
I waive to a few neighbors as I readjust my step to ease the pressure on the blister as best as I can.
I turn the corner to take a shortcut down an alleyway -- when a chill washes over me. A moment later a cloud blocks the sun, and I can hear a murmur.
I walk towards the dumpster and try to ignore the potency of urine that has been heightened by the noon day heat.
In the distance I see a man kicking at someone slumped on the ground. Over, and over, and over.
"Hey!" I yell without thinking.
He ignores me and offers one more kick.
I take off my shoe and whip it at his head -- it hits a car, sounding the alarm, which startles the man. A moment later he scampers back into the sewers where he came.
When he is gone, I walk over to the person laying on the ground, picking up my shoe along the way.
"Are you ok?" I say as I get out my phone to dial 911.
As I approach I notice that it's one of the twins.
"Hey," I say and try to get a response by gently shaking her shoulder.
She eventually turns towards me. Blood runs down from one of her temples. One of her teeth lays on the ground.
"It's going to be, OK" I tell her as I give my location to the operator on the phone. I pull a water bottle out of my purse and try not to allow the guilt of having a handbag that could easily feed this woman for a month distract me from my present goal.
I offer her some water, which she drinks slowly. She's badly beaten.
"Where's your sister?" I ask after a moment passes. In the distance there are no sirens just yet.
She has a hard time answering from her swollen and bloody mouth, but eventually she murmurs, "She'll be fine," before blacking out.
I wait with her, holding her hand -- wondering when I will hear the sirens. I didn't tell the operator the social status of the person being attacked, but somehow as I look around at surveillance cameras; I wonder if they know? I wonder if that's why there is a delay.
I take off my other shoe to balance myself a bit better as I sit there, waiting for what seems like forever for help to arrive.
Eventually sirens are heard in the distance. A moment later her twin comes rushing in. She takes a seat beside me and gently pats her sister's hair.
"Thank you," she says coyly.
I smile.
"How can I ever repay you?" She asks a moment later as a firetruck makes its way down the alleyway towards us.
"You don't have to," I say to her. No debt is ever owed when one person helps another.
"Thank you," she says again as the police arrive.
I nod.
Somehow, my getting involved will give them the help that her sister needs -- that's if she makes it; which for now is hard to say. There is a lot of blood on the pavement, and the faces of the EMT are looking very very grim.
It's been raining for days now, and the water supply at the cottage is running low. Mildred is trying her best to feign that she is alright, but both Annie and I know different. I try not to think too much about the fact that Mildred may never see anything more than this cottage. Annie has been unusually quiet these past few hours as she tries to comfort her sister by treating her body fever with wet cool rags.
"Have you always been inseparable?" I ask Annie, who welcomes the distraction.
"Indeed," she says and smiles down on her sister.
Mildred looks towards me and nods. She wants to be part of the conversation too.
"I always wanted to be a twin," I tell them. Annie laughs. Mildred tries to laugh, but it turns into a bad cough.
"What's wrong with being a twin?" I ask to lighten the mood.
Mildred makes a hand motion, and on cue Annie begins to tell me horror stories of suitors confusing them over the years.
I suppose that would be a real downfall.
"You would think they would've known us well enough to recognize one from the other, but they didn't," Annie says softly as she helps Mildred readjust.
A moment later Mildred coughs up some more blood, then vomits, then coughs some more.
"So, you never married?" I ask out of pure curiosity.
They both nod. Then laugh. I think they forget that I'm not privy to whatever memory they've both tapped into.
A moment later Mildred falls asleep and Annie motions for me to meet her in the next room.
I tip toe away from my spot so as not to wake Mildred before reconvening with Annie.
"She's not going to make it," Annie says matter of fact.
I nod.
"When the rains let up, we'll bury her in the forest. Near a nice tree of some sort. She'd like that." Annie says in vacant autopilot.
I try my best to play along. The last thing I want to do is start to cry -- that would make it too hard for Annie.
Part of me is scared that the rains will never let up and Annie and I will be trapped here in this cottage forever while Mildred rots away in some closet that we put her in -- but I shake that thought away almost as soon as I think it. It's not right.
For whatever reason I don't dishonour Annie by selling her hope. Everything is not going to be fine. Mildred is dying -- tonight even. The last thing Annie needs is me to not support her, and so, if her go-to coping mechanism is the mechanics of creating a plan to bury her sister; I'm there.
"I'm really going to miss her," I say to Annie as I squeeze the tears back.
She smiles at me, grateful that I'm not fighting the reality of the situation. A moment later she puts her arm around me and leans her head against mine.
"Me too," she says. "Me too."
"Is that lipstick you're wearing?" I say as Consuela hands me a veggie dog. I take a moment to observe the whole of her: sleeker hair sans la scrunchie; skinny jeans with minimal muffin top....
Consuela ignores my question and hands me a napkin.
"Turn around," I tell her so I can read the label on her jeans. She begrudgingly does a slow turn. I notice that she is looking really good.
"How much did you pay for those?" I ask in between bites and pointing to her jeans. She shrugs as she busies herself with cleaning the grill and adding more ice to the cooler.
"I ferget," she says as she snaps open a can of diet Dr. Pepper and guzzles away.... like a rabid pig.
You can take the girl out of Bolivia...
"I see," I say as I stand there and watch her get more and more self-conscious by the second.
Eventually she snaps, "Wh-a-at?@?!? What iz yer doin' here, Mia?!? Yers iz suppose to be writing, no?" she says with flared nostrils while stomping one of her feet in --
"Are those real Michael Kors?" I ask as I crouch down to inspect her flats.
"Mia, yers iz annoyings. Yers iz suppose to be at da work. Consuela iz busy!" she says in a huff and turns her attention back to her cart.
There is no one in the park. It's the height of day. The sun is high, and shade is at a minimum for now. Under the Taco stand umbrella, Consuela cools herself by dropping some ice down the back of her t-shirt.
I stand there staring at her while I finish my veggie dog. I take my time between bites in order to stretch out this unnecessary visit. Consuela is right. I do have work to do. But somehow, on my little walk around the neighborhood, I managed to end up here.
Consuela turns to give me a dirty look and a moment later our eyes are locked in a dead stare. I slowly raise my napkin to my mouth and wipe away the rest of the crumbs. Eventually Consuela slips her Prada sunglasses down from the top of her head to end the face off. For now, I have won.
I take a step closer to the cart to throw my napkin in the garbage, before turning around to leave. Consuela ignores me. She's had enough of my drop ins.
"Bye," I say as I make my way back towards the path that will lead me to the street, and then eventually back home.
"See yers," she says quietly under her breath as a few meters of distance grows between us. As I round the park I notice a soft-faced man in shabby clothes. He gives me a smile, as he walks past me heading towards the Taco Stand. I take a moment to observe the holes in his shoes, and pants, and t-shirt. On his back he carries a backpack with a small mesh pocket on the side closest to me. In the pocket are a trove of shiny pennies. Each of them glint wildly under the noon sun.
I smile to myself as I watch him walk towards Consuela with his collection of pennies. Despite all his misfortunes, I admire that he is able to find a small wonder in this world -- a penny collection.
I try not to think about the fact that he was someone's baby at one point in time, or that somewhere along the way before life became too complicated, that he might have had hopes and dreams. I wait to watch as Consuela hands him a soft-shelled burrito; and a moment later he offers her some of his pennies -- which Consuela refuses.
"Good girl," I say quietly as I walk away.
A moment later, an idea takes full-swing as it coils its way down my spine and shimmies towards each of my hands waiting to be written with hungry anticipation. The man and his pennies has blessed me without knowing it; and as I pick up my pace and scurry towards home I am content in knowing that we have each, in some small way, made a difference in each other's lives today.
"What's that sound?" I say as I sit up. The light in the room of the cottage is darker than it normally is.
Annie walks over to one of the windows and peels back the black garbage bag a crack to inspect.
"It's raining," Annie says with pursed lips before returning to her bedding in the middle of the floor.
I help myself to a bottle of water that we were lucky enough to find in one of the closets in the hallway. We've replaced our ration with this new water, and with each gulp I imagine it washing away all the sores in my throat and mouth.
"That's not good, right?" I say in what is probably the worst rhetorical question ever asked.
Mildred gives me a blank stare.
"So," I start, in an awkward effort to try and ease the tension. "We just wait it out here, right?" I ask.
Annie sighs before rolling over on her side and turning her back to the both of us. "I can't take this anymore," she mumbles -- but then a moment later I hear her deep breaths and know that she has left us for now.
Mildred drops her head. She is deep in thought, and so I stand and walk towards the window. The rain will offer some protection from the sun -- and through the window pane I yearn to see what's left of the landscape.
Mildred looks up for a moment, but decides not to scold me. And a moment later I hear her heavy breath and know that she too has joined her sister.
In the crack of light that seeps from behind the black garbage bag I can now see the colour of my fingers as I raise my hand to create a peep hole. My knuckles are withered and boney. My fingernails are more yellow -- like a Disney villain. My hands have seen better days.
I try not to dissuade myself with futile thoughts as to why we are even bothering to continue north. The sickness has become more violent in all three of us, with Mildred taking the greatest hit. Her vomiting has increased in the past few hours. The water will only offer a mild comfort to the inevitable.
As I peel the garbage bag back, I try not to touch the curtain. Through the two or three inches of viewing space, I peer through the glass to the other side. The rain fall is heavy. The dark haze bleeds a toxic spray that turns most of the ground and grass into a mulchant sesspool that bleeds back into the lake. I stare for what seems like hours, drifting in and out of thought. I have no more tears. My eyes are a desert void of any sympathy.
When I am done staring, I let the garbage bag fall back into place and the room once again turns dark. I make my way back to my spot and try not to worry about tomorrow or the day after. I have no control over the unknown. For now, I will rest. The rains will eventually stop. And when they do we must remain strong so that we can continue our journey.
"I've been here before," I say as I step out of the car and make my way towards the lake. We've managed to come across a cottage that will offer us some protection from the pending daylight.
"Come, help us with these. You can daydream later," Annie hollers as the two of them hoist our rations into the house.
I turn and scurry towards them to help with the off-load. When most of the goods are safely in the cottage, I return to the trunk to lock it up and grab whatever is remaining.
"How long are you going to carry that thing around?" Annie asks as I pick up my backpack and turn towards the house.
"Dunno," I say back to her. It's the last thing I have of my former life, and for whatever reason -- I don't want to part with it.
Mildred moves the car into the forest to help shade it from the sun's rays. Whatever attempts we can make to minimize exposure we do.
As I enter the cottage a wave of nostalgia washes over me. Laughter. Memories. Summer Parties. I walk towards one of the windows in the living room and draw the curtains. The stars begin to sparkle against a periwinkle sky -- and so within minutes the sun will rear its head above the horizon and incubate the toxins that are slowly causing decay to each one of us.
When we have managed to draw all the curtains, I take a seat on one of the couches and begin to cry. I cry for the people who used to matter to me, and the people that could but will never cross my path. I cry for the loss that we've all suffered, and the implications it could have on mankind in general. I cry for cold beer, and the sun against my cheek. I cry for clear skies, trivial problems, and lost hope.
Mildred and Annie watch me in silence, before one of them reaches for a box of tissue and hands it to me.
"Let it out," Annie says as I wail all my frustrations into a pool of despair. A few moments pass before the heaving starts, but eventually, like a baby who has exhausted themselves to sleep, I lay my head on one end of the couch and welcome a few hours of relief from this nightmare we are caught up in.
As my thoughts begin to calm, and my breathing subsides -- I try my best to delve into happy memories of summers by the lake, parties, good friends, and a time when possibility was rampant. I do my best to immerse myself in those pictures in the hope that when I sleep I might be able to revisit those lost moments. To reconnect with happier times, where the future was impenetrable.
I try to ignore the burning in my gums or the low grade nausea that seems to be the new standard. I ignore the smell of burnt air and death permeating all around us.
In my pre-dream I imagine myself running down a long dock towards the water -- not a care in the world. In perfect heath, I cannonball my way into a lake that will not rot away at my skin. I sink, deep into that cold safe water. A refuge from all that could ever possibly harm me. Incubated in the bliss of an environment that was designed for my survival. Unencumbered by the stress of a deconstructing world.
In that water, I am safe from a rotting civilization. In that water, I am that girl again. Young. Happy. Full of life. Swimming on a hot summer's day with a few friends while the radio blares a favourite song in the background. In that water tomorrow is a possibility. Health is a given.
There, in the deepest parts of the water where algae sways to the soft rhythms of boats in the distance, I am everything I'm suppose to be. And with the calm that comes from having that reassurance, I eventually fall asleep.
Before we have time to restrategize, a loud burst is heard and a moment later the deflating howl of a back tire causes each of our hearts to race at lightening speed.
"What the hell was that?" yells Mildred as she pedals the gas and swerves quickly to the left.
Another shot is heard, but this one ricochets off of the side view mirror on Annie's side.
"Goddamn Mother Fucker," Annie says as she hoists the double barrel up to her shoulder. She lowers the window as much as she needs to, before shooting two shots towards the dark woods that are now attacking us.
Another shot is fired towards us, this time narrowly missing the back windshield. Mildred tries to avoid a clear shot by swerving as we make our way back down the lane way as fast as our deflated tire will allow.
Luck is on our side. Since the road is dirt, we are able to ride on the hubcap -- for now.
"Faster!" screams Annie as she climbs over the passenger seat towards the back and re-aims her shotgun out of one of the back windows.
For now, the shots have ceased.
We manage to reach the road, but the strain on the axle is evident -- and so, we are forced to stop. Now a mile or so away from the shooter, we have minutes to change the tire.
Annie gets out of the car and aims her gun straight towards the darkness. I quickly scurry toward the deflated tire to hold the flashlight while Mildred does her best to hoist the jack. I'm trembling. I can see the light from the flashlight shaking in epileptic fashion.
Mildred moves with record precision, and in what seems like seconds, the flat tire is off. A moment later the spare is hoisted on, and Mildred's arm becomes one with the wrench as she frantically whirls each bolt back into place.
My heart is pounding so hard, I barely hear Annie telling me to get back in the car.
But I do.
As I duck my head and dive into the backseat, a shot is fired. It whizzes past where my head was an instant ago.
Mildred fidgets with a rusty bolt, before sliding into the front seat.
Another shot is fired.
Annie fires back.
"Get your ass in the car!" Mildred screams.
Tears are now forming as I watch Annie race backwards towards the open car door. Mildred has the car rolling, forcing Annie to quicken her pace.
Another shot is fired. This one bounces off the back bumper --
A second later, in the moonlit haze, we see our attacker. Without hesitating Annie stops in her tracks and takes aim.
He falls.
Mildred increases the pressure on the gas pedal, Annie turns and gallops into the car.
For now, we are safe.
I stare out the back windshield towards the fire and watch until I can no longer see it.
For the next hour we drive, in silence; processing what just happened and hoping that we will find shelter.
Sunrise is only a few hours away.
The grass is itchy against my elbows. I'm finding it hard to get comfortable.
Every few moments, a new customer approaches Consuela's Taco Stand, and she bashfully flirts with them before handing over their order.
The day is hot, and so, like everyone else in the park I am taking cover in the shade of a tree. To my right is a group of men and women with full bellies who have passed out after drinking one too many beers. Every once in a while a dog approaches them, sniffs, and walks away. Sometimes they swat in their sleep when they sense a wet nose and are slightly wakened by the dangle of dog tags, but for the most part they are completely passed out. I start to wonder how they got here, what their journey has been like up until now, and if they'll ever have enough faith in mankind to embrace their destiny with sober ambition.
For now, they sleep soundly, temporarily salvaged from the brokenness of their reality.
A moment or two passes and I readjust my weight by shifting one of my elbows closer to my ribs. It's easier this way.
Consuela begrudgingly gives away food to the Homeless as they approach. I think part of me is waiting to see if she will begin to do it with an open heart.
As with all times before, each time she hands over a hot dog to someone less fortunate, two or three more paying customers approach. I think it's a little sad that she chooses to smile at the money she receives rather than the result of her good deeds, but I guess she is still learning.
Behind Consuela sit the twins. One has her knees drawn to her chest as she patiently waits out the mad angry rambles of her sister who paces in front of her -- sometimes yelling at no one, and sometimes muttering under her breath. I'm fascinated by these twins -- drawn to them really. For the past few days I've been coming to the parkette to monitor Consuela, and clear my head. I'm about to create something new -- and rather than sit silently staring at a wall waiting for inspiration to channel its way into my heart and through my fingertips, I choose to sit here -- watching. Observing. Experiencing.
Eventually the rants are directed towards the twin that is sitting. The anger causes the standing twin to shake, bark, and scream at her sister. From across the park I am scared...and curious. I watch in fascination to see how her sister responds. I imagine she's had to deal with this thousands of times over the course of their lifetime. I wonder if they ever had boyfriends, jobs, a chance at a real life -- or happiness.
As the screaming escalates, the sleepers to my right fidget but do not wake. Consuela glares at me as if to say 'I told you so,'.
The screaming continues unaltered for what feels like hours, but is probably only seconds. Eventually the twin that is sitting stands. I wait to see what she does; trying desperately not to blink in case I should miss the slightest non-verbal gesture.
The quiet twin begins to sway. Slowly at first, then with more gusto. She sways back and forth ignoring the screams that are directed at her and immersing herself into her own world. As she sways to the music in her head, I notice that her sister begins to lessen the intensity of her screams -- and eventually, like the rocking of a baby, her manner too becomes calm. The dancing twin doesn't stop, but simply outstretches her arms and begins to twirl. As she twirls I notice that she is ever so slightly flapping her hands. With each twirl she sucks up all the negative energy and sends it back down into the depths of hell where it belongs. Every rotation creates a newer, fresher, breeze that washes a wave of calm across the park.
As the calm permeates across the grass, we are all lulled back into the soft slumber of the hot afternoon. Cares are erased. Calm is now our oxygen. And as I wait for the twin to stop twirling, my lids become heavy and I too drift off to sleep.
"There's a fire in the distance," I say as we drive silently along the road through farm country. At first my heart begins to race imagining worst case scenarios, but then I revert my thoughts to something more positive.
It's better to be positive.
Annie adjusts the gun that she's held between her legs for the entire ride. She trusts no one.
I hate the savage impulses that have risen to the surface of our psyche; flesh-ridden basic instincts that lack any spiritual enlightenment. The decay of our bodies correlates to the poison that fear has unleashed in our souls. Our spirits are now anorexic, void of natural elements -- much like our atmosphere; and all things beautiful.
"A colony?" Mildred asks as we approach. The fire rises high into the smoky haze of the horizon that is almost midnight blue at this point.
"Let's hope so," says Annie.
Part of me wants to not turn down the lane way. Isn't this the point in the movie where you scream from your seat "Stop!", and then the people meet their demise?
We drive down the tree lined road at a cautious speed. There is no one in sight -- no one visible to our weary eyes. The blaze creates a billowy smoke high above the tallest trees signaling to us the fire is fresh.
I try not to wince as we round the bend and finally see what is burning: a barn. We slow the car to a crawl and use the headlights to observe our surroundings. No one is in sight.
Mildred turns the car slowly to the right of the barn and the headlights reveal a pile of burning ashes.
A million frantic thoughts race through my head. My ears strain for any sound that might indicate if we are in danger or not. Why we've driven towards this fire is uncertain. Perhaps we are like moths to a flame desperate for a hearth and a reconnection with civilization.
The silence eventually gives way to an odor; that putrid smell that on some carnal level every being knows and recognizes. The smell that tells us something very bad happened. Something dismal and dark.
An enemy is near.
Like a Vampire in the shadows about to suckle its prey.
I take a moment, close my eyes and breathe as slowly as I can through both nostrils. Everyone in the meeting room is silent.
"You can do that if you want," I start as I begin to open my eyes, "but I haven't the faintest idea how you'll execute it -- and even if you could, it wouldn't be as good as if I were doing it."
And with that I collect my things and walk towards the door, dignity in tact and refusing to be bamboozled.
My blood starts to bubble up both arms as I walk towards the elevator, then the front door -- then....
Home?
It's one of those moments where racing home feels so anti-climactic. Empty rooms greet you and manage to magnify the rampant thoughts that have taken over your head...
I can't go home -- not yet.
Aimless wandering eventually leads to a blur of streets, people, and nameless storefronts. After a while, my breathing resumes and I found myself back in my neighborhood at the edge of the parkette. The sun is particularly hot today so I head towards Consuela to borrow some napkins to wipe the sweat off of me. At first, she doesn't notice me. She has her headphones on and is singing off-key and double tempo to Enrique Iglesias...I think.
On her grill are two of the saddest hot dogs that anyone has ever seen. Pathetic really. They look as if they've been sitting there for most of the afternoon and lack any moisture.
"Hey!" I yell at her as I wipe away the sweat from one of my armpits.
She ignores me because she knows the lecture I'm about to give her.
Consuela thinks that if she turns her back to me that I'll somehow change direction on my train of thought and leave her be.
I won't.
"What the hell are you doing?!" I yell louder and reach over to yank one of her ear buds away from her.
"Styaaahp it, Mia. Yer iz no suppose to be heres. I iz busy!"
I look around at the empty parkette. Empty, except for the two people sitting quietly behind Consuela waiting to see if she'll throw them a bone.
"Consuela..." I say in a more hypnotic but firm tone.
"Wha-ah-tuh!?!?" she says as she snaps around. I duck to miss the barbeque tongs aimed at my head.
"How long have they been sitting there?" I say to her and give her a glare with my right eye whilst trying to simultaneously nod and smile at them.
They nod back.
"Dey iz da vegeeetareeyuns," she says and pretends to dust the glass part of her cart with the bottom of her t-shirt.
I look at the two corpse dogs on the grill.
Perhaps Consuela tried to offer them something, but gave up?
"So." I say and continue to glare at her hoping that my discontent will boil her spirit and make it do the right thing.
"So, dey iz can nots eat dees!" she says and throws her tongs on the grill. I can tell that she's pissed that she wasted two dogs, but the fact of the matter is, that she has food. And the two women behind her need food.
This isn't brain surgery.
With Jedi precision I reach out one of my hands and grab Consuela by the lobe of her ear and begin to twist. I take out all my frustration from stale negotiations, douche bag comments, and well -- let's say the last two or three failed relationships. I twist that lobe with everything I have expecting that eventually when the blood drips from it, the poison in her heart will have seeped out.
"AYYAAAH!" she screams back and smacks me across the face with a free hand.
The women look concerned, but then one of them snickers.
"Just give them some fucking food," I say to her as I grab some ice from the cooler where she keeps her sodas and apply it to my cheek before letting it run down my back to cool myself off.
Consuela begrudgingly reaches into her rations and takes two buns out. She fills them with sauerkraut, olives, pickles, and other salty toppings before toasting and handing them over to each of the ladies.
I think at times, we can easily make excuses as to why we can't rise to the occasion. But what Consuela needs to understand is that maybe one day she will need the protection or the help of these ladies -- and if not from them, then perhaps someone else to fulfill their karmic obligation.
And as I walk away I hear them thanking Consuela for her generosity.
"So very kind of you," says one appreciative voice.
"Yes, very kind indeed." chimes the other.
"What are you two whispering about?" I say as I am lulled out of sleep by Mildred and Annie arguing in a whisper on the other side of the room. They wait a second before responding, in case I happen to go back to sleep. But I don't.
The sun's rays peek behind the garbage bags that we've used to darken the windows in this room and wait out daylight. I prop up on my elbows and wait for them to fill me in on their conversation.
"Annie thinks we need a gun," says Mildred through pursed lips and disapproving eyes.
"Oh." I say. I've never liked guns -- and the thought that we might need one brings tears to my eyes.
"I think it's a good idea. There's one in the master bedroom, next to the bed. I think we should take it with us....just in case," says Annie. I'm actually surprised that Annie is the one who wants the gun. I would've pegged Mildred as the more aggressive twin. But Annie is the nurturer, and maybe, the mother in her feels the need to protect her family.
"So, let's take it. At the very least we'll keep it out of the hands of someone who might misuse it, no?" I say trying to accommodate both their wishes.
Mildred raises an eyebrow, and Annie sits back against the wall happy that she's won this battle. I hope we never need to use the gun, but I suppose it would be foolish to leave without it. People do strange things when their survival is threatened...
"Are you going back to sleep?" Annie asks me as she lays back on the floor in a makeshift bed that we've created from blankets in the hall closet. We've chosen not to sleep upstairs. For some reason it makes more sense to sleep on the main floor in a darkened room. The problem with not exactly knowing what variables you are dealing with -- is that there is no real 'right' answer. Maybe it would be safer to sleep in the basement? But for whatever reason we've chosen this room. A metaphorical limbo of our two realities -- the past where we sleep upstairs, and our present where we sleep in basements. For now, the middle floor of the house seems to suffice.
I forget to answer Annie, and she forgets to re ask the question. She lets me wander alone in my thoughts drifting in and out of memories; melancholically contemplative, and somewhat detached.
"I miss Google," Mildred eventually says to break the silence. We laugh. Google would be very handy right about now.
I run my tongue along the gums of my upper teeth. They've begun to swell. I have no idea how to treat this symptom. Annie's poisoning is evident in the swelling under her eyes. Mildred's hair has begun to thin -- and she has started to cough up blood.
There's something very beautiful about the human spirit -- and its desire to persevere in the face of all adversity. The physical ailments are just the beginning of our battle. We still have yet to deal with vagrants, hooligans, and the other remnants of society that are scattered around like ants who have been mostly washed away from the sidewalk with a bucket of hot water. I'm that ant. The one who was on the other side of the crack in the sidewalk. Barely spared, but still affected. And wondering, as I begin to slip back into sleep, if I will ever find a colony to call home again.
I stare at the Stereo for a few seconds, before walking over to it to click the tuner towards the radio setting. There's nothing but dead silent air. I push the 'seek' button but it scrolls continuously through both a.m. and f.m. without stopping, as if we were driving through a tunnel. The world and all its music has been paused.
I feel a kind hand on my shoulder and turn around to see Mildred giving me a sympathetic smile. "C'mon," she says and motions for me to follow her outside. The night air has a deep chill unlike anything I've ever felt before. It's as if the air itself is writhing from having sunburn. It's colder and sharper, perhaps denser.
I follow Mildred to the trunk of the car to help offload the rest of our belongings. Our thinking is that within the walls of the farmhouse, our clothes and food will have less exposure to the radiation.
"Here's the last of it," she says and hands me a case of canned fruit. I look at the sunny picture on the label and wonder if we will ever see that type of day again within our lifetime. Mildred grabs my knapsack as we head back inside the house to bring the last of the food to Annie who is in the basement. This house is the beginning of moderately damaged structures that we started passing in the car about an hour or so ago. It still has its roof and the walls are intact, so we've chose to rest here for tomorrow's daylight.
I walk down the stairs towards the back of the basement where Annie is busying herself in the canteena. She's collected the food that we brought and placed beside it a letter from us which states the date it was dropped off and where it came from -- so that people who travel here after us will have the option to collect food that is further away from the epicentre; and therefore, less radioactive.
We will be taking what we need from the rations that were lovingly stored in glass mason jars by a plump housewife -- who is no longer here. I saw photos of her in the living room as I made my way towards the basement; and I take a quiet moment to give her gratitude. The food she has collected over the years will serve us well; until we find more rations as we move north.
I walk away from Annie, and head back upstairs towards the living room. My knapsack sits in the corner; the only remnant of my former life. I have yet to go through it -- but I will at some point during the day tomorrow. For now I sway quietly in the middle of the room pretending that a song that I love has just been requested by some couple celebrating their anniversary. I sway to remember all the benefits that we once took for granted as a society; like boring nights at home -- and sunshine that won't kill us.
I sway for them, this couple celebrating their anniversary -- whose only problem is along the lines of 'will they be able to go to work the next day after consuming way too much champagne'? I sway for the Problemless; ghosts that lay all around us, whose smiles are gentle reminders of what opportunities are now lost. And as I sway, quietly watching my feet slide across the old wooden floor, I notice that the toenail of my pinky on my right foot has become loose and slipped off.
Because here, in the dark and silent haze-streaked world of the living that is now our reality, I must sway to ignore the very real problems we are all facing. Problems that are a direct result of the radiation that is all around us; consuming every healthy microbe in its path like a savage and hungry vortex.
The devastation was greater than I could have imagined. You don't realize what extreme heat will do to cement and flesh until you see it first hand. After we departed, I lay in the back of the car and tried not to make eye contact with anything that was illuminated by the last of the sun's rays before the midnight sky blessedly engulfed us, shielding us from the decay and ruin.
There are no clouds now -- just hazy streaks of cloud-like remnant that hover meters above the surface; as if the atmosphere has shrunk in girth. I watch the haze whiz by as we drive silently along the road; swerving every now and then around debris, bodies, and cracks in the foundation.
Mildred is a good driver. Annie knits away in the passenger seat. None of us have tried to turn on the radio. It would be a clear reminder of how alone we are.
Here, laying in the backseat I adjust my gaze so that I don't notice that treetops, rooftops, and telephone poles are missing from the frame I've created. I simply stare at the haze, wondering what affect it will have on my body -- and when.
I clear my mind of everything that I was before, and hope that this new person I'm about to become has the strength to endure. I don't know what we will face; or if I have the ability to overcome it....or if I want to.
I listen half-hypnotically as the bump in the axle of one wheel thumps melodically along.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Thwomp.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
The sound lulls me to sleep for what seems like a second, but when I awake I realize that we are now out of the city. The road that we chose did not fail us. Zombies did not thwart our escape. In a less dramatic fashion, we simply fixed up an old car and drove --hopeful that the further we were from the devastation, the more forgiving the landscape would be.
We drive on into the night with minimal conversation. From here on in, we will have to be nocturnal to avoid increased exposure to the chemicals in the air. In a few hours we will take salvage in a house we find along the way. But for now, we drive. Each of us staring ahead on the moonless road with no clear indication as to what Destiny will unveil; or if she is willing or able to help us at all.
"Aha! Here we go..." says Mildred as she crawls out of the closet and hands me a pair of sneakers. "These should fit just fine."
I've managed to replenish my wardrobe with t-shirts and pants (and now shoes) borrowed from the little boy who used to live here. I try not to think about him being gone. I'm sure he would be happy to know that someone is getting use of his stuff.
"We leave at dusk," says Annie as she hustles past us throwing more supplies into various bags by the door. Mildred has finished fixing up the family car that had some damage to it when the garage caved in. And now, we are able to depart.
"Try them on!" insists Mildred as I bend over to try and slip one of my feet into the sneaker.
"They good?" asks Annie as she hustles out of the room to collect more food from the kitchen.
"Um, hmm." I tell them as I strut up and down the hallway to make sure that they'll be good. As I do so, Mildred grabs another pair from the closet and throws them in the pile near the door. "Just in case," she says as she turns toward the kitchen to help her sister ransack whatever non-perishables are there.
My hunger kicked in full-swing this morning, and I have a newfound appreciation for all those children who are starving in Africa.
Were starving?
"Do you think the people in Africa are ok?" I say as I walk into the kitchen and grab a can of corn to nosh on.
"We hope so," says Annie as she scolds me with a look for digging into our rations. "Oh, leave her, she's recouperating" whispers Mildred to her sister as I hand the can over to them and offer some corn.
I'm like that two year old who is caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
Both of them smile and say 'no thanks' before taking the last of the cans towards the door. Something tells me that radiation can seep into foods that are in cans, but since we don't have much choice -- we have opted to hope for the best and move forward.
We're going north. The sisters were talking with some other people who left ahead of us, and they believe the roads are better to the north. Also, it will be less hot -- and dangerous. But mostly we're heading north for a refuge from the temperature.
"We must warn you," says Annie as she motions for me to sit down while I continue to shovel the rest of the corn into my mouth. "It's not like how you remembered it. There are gaping holes, and well -- it's not how you remember it."
I nod. I have yet to see outside. It's more dangerous during daylight hours for some reason. I suppose the darkness will add a level of kindness as it shields us from the devestation in the city.
"How far north will we have to go?" I ask -- not that it matters, but more out of curiosity.
"As far as the roads will allow us -- god willing," says Annie.
"It'll be fine!" says Mildred who gives her sister a cross look for worrying me.
"God willing," I say with a smile -- because after we step out of this house, we are at the complete mercy of God, the roads, and whatever remnants of society are left. And people do scary things when their lives are in danger. Right now, I'm more concerned about who we run into, than the imminent physical danger of the elements. People are very unpredictable.
