Barren Waters, A Post-Apocalyptic Tale of Survival
Chapter 7

Part 2

Chapter 7

Present Day

“I wanna explore on my own,” she mumbled, as she turned away from him and disappeared down an aisle of women’s clothing and shoes. Her spirits were somewhat brighter, it seemed, but he knew, emotionally, she was astride a bucking mare. For the hundredth time that week he asked himself: would she ever know the carefree comings and goings a girl her age should?

She was thirteen now, but just barely so. Jeremy recalled himself at that age. By that time, his parents had moved to the cabin, but outside life hadn’t completely imploded yet. He’d still attended public school, competed in sporting events, and played with friends. Sam’s life, however, was different. She had him, no one else. She was isolated, lonely, always on edge. Jeremy tried to imagine her life and couldn’t: day after day, night after night, with no one to talk to but her father. It would surely test anyone’s patience, much less a young girl slogging through adolescence. So he’d let her be for a while, he thought. It was just as well. He had things to do. He wanted to visit the pharmacy, which was something he preferred to do alone. No need to remind her of her precarious health.

The pharmacy was usually a bust anyway. Rarely did he fine anything useful these days. Not after so much time had passed. Without proper refrigeration, the injectable forms of insulin would have spoiled. But still, he thought, it was wise to check.

He walked the darkened aisles alone, his footsteps echoing strangely. Sounds were odd in an industrial store, even worse in an empty industrial store; every noise reverberated off the ductwork and ceiling. The store was a mess, as were most places he and Sam visited lately. While Jeremy and his family enjoyed a secluded life, tucked away in the Smokey Mountains, protected from the perils of a crumbling society, thousands of unfortunate others hadn’t. They’d foraged and scavenged, hunted and gathered. They’d become petty thieves and criminals. Neighborly hospitality and courtesy had died; the ties that bound communities had frayed.

Pausing a moment, he peered across the store, where he saw Sam’s flashlight weaving about the aisles. She’d find few things of value here, as most of what was left was useless and frivolous: old hats, maybe, or school supplies, a variety of household vacuums and scrubbers, a collage of framed art or porcelain figurines. But maybe she’d find a new game they could play, several pairs of thick socks, a book, or magazine.

Something caught his eye to his left. He turned and nearly laughed out loud. There, on the floor, half-concealed by the lip of a metal shelf—in the bulk food aisle of all places—was a large box of lentils and a bag of dried peas.

“Score,” he whispered, congratulating himself, though he had to admit: he wasn’t surprised. Things like this happened frequently. People passed treasures like these all the time, favoring canned goods, boxes of crackers, or bags of chips instead. He weaved around a pool of rancid ketchup, which had dried, molded, and spread furry fingers across the dirty tiled floor. Righting an overturned basket, he smiled. Lentils were his favorite. They were rich in protein, fiber, and fatty acids. When cooked, a single bag could last he and Sam a week.

Approaching the pharmacy, he lifted the counter, approached a door marked Employees Only. There was a small yet opaque window set into the top, and it was dark as if covered with a piece of dark cloth. Fantastic, he thought. Someone covered it. With his luck, someone had claimed this room, sealed the door, and then died or gone crazy.

Lifting the gun from the holster on his belt, he crept closer, and placed his ear against the frame. As he slowly turned the knob, he held his breath. Locked. Yep. He should have known that. If he were a betting man, he’d have wagered on this, as well as the likelihood of a dead corpse inside. In many of the convenience marts they’d visited along the way, he and Sam had made similar gruesome discoveries, the remains of people who had made their last stand. They would stockpile as many supplies as they could, and then hole themselves up inside a tiny room like this, attempt to wait out the worst of the disaster. Bad idea. His father taught him that. That kind of logic would inevitably fail them.

“Jeremy,” his father had cautioned him sagely. “Never confine yourself inside a public place. Select a private one, carve out a simple life.”

Jeremy pulled the crowbar from his pack and wedged the claw between the doorframe and the knob. He’d become quite good at this, if he did say so himself. His weight against the shaft was all it would take. How silly, he thought. How trusting people were. For hundreds of years people had believed locks secure.

When he was able to successfully jimmy the door open, he was greeted by a stench so foul he nearly vomited. Oh yes. Someone had been here, all right. Been here, shat here, and died here, he thought—shat here repeatedly by the smell of it. He needed to be quick, so he set himself to task. It was a task he knew quite well. He was methodical about it, meticulous, if not overly so.

Beneath the pooled light of his flashlight, he began with the cholesterol medications and high blood pressure pills, before moving to pain management and antibiotics. Though the person who died here hadn’t lasted very long, he’d managed to keep others from tearing the place apart, and though the medications were sparse and banged up, there were probably still a few items of use.

As was to be expected, all of the pain medications had long been pillaged. And the antibiotics had been taken, as well. Dropping to his knees, he peered beneath the lip of the rack, where he saw several bottles that had rolled beneath. After fishing them out, he held them aloft. Industrial-strength antacids. Useless. He tossed them. But a bottle of aspirin. Score! Double-score! While antacids were useless, aspirin was gold. The small bottle of pills had just made this stop worthwhile.

He continued down the aisle, past bottles of Cialis and Propecia, past other silly drugs he’d once heard about: pills that prevented unwanted emotional outbursts, medication for restless leg syndrome (that was a thing?). Rounding the next corner, he found a collection of birth control pills and diaphragms, and in the darkness of the room, a silvery memory arose: the moment Susan told him she was pregnant. It was an odd thing to recall inside a broken-down store. Both tender and frightening, it was one of his most precious memories. He and the woman he’d chosen to spend the rest of his life with had somehow created life. In a world claimed by death and decay, in the confines of a cabin on the side of a mountain, they’d come together and started something new. The memory brought tears to his eyes.

“Susan. Jesus. A baby?” he had asked.

“I know. Not ideal at a time like this. I know it’ll be hard, another mouth to feed, another hopeless future to plan for.” She’d hung her head and brought her hands to her face. “I’m sorry, Jeremy. It’s a burden we don’t need. Neither does your father, for that matter. Not now. Particularly not while we’re still filling the ark. Not while we have so many things left to do.” When she lifted her head, Jeremy could see she’d been crying. “The timing is terrible. I don’t know what to say.”

He’d dropped beside her, onto the sofa, his thoughts strangely calm, given the news. A baby, he remembered thinking: a family of his own. The idea was as mystifying as it was frightening. It was the left field thing of all time, in times like these. It was a fantasy a man in his position didn’t allow himself to have. It was an indulgence Jeremy hadn’t thought possible.

“Well?” Susan asked him. “What do you think? Say something. Please. Your silence is killing me.”

He’d turned to her then, gathered her hands in his, and begun to speak slowly, almost carefully, picking through concepts that were foreign to him, like the images of a dream that would scatter too fast.

“I’m not upset, Suse. Not for reasons you’d expect. I’m just shocked, is all, but I like the idea.” He squeezed her hands. “I like it a lot. I mean it. It’s a gift. Don’t you think?” He bumped her gently with his forehead. “It’s lucky, too. For you, I mean. Imagine staring at this old mug for the rest of your life. Don’t you think you’ll get bored?”

“You’re not mad then?” Relief shone golden in her eyes.

“Not mad. No. Worried, perhaps. Worried for you. For your health, for the birth, for the limited medical resources at hand…”

“But the ark,” she interrupted. “We have what we need. Your father has everything we could possibly want, and the hospital is only ten miles from here. We could forage for anything we’re missing. We’ve got seven months to prepare, maybe eight, if I’m calculating it right.”

He held up his hands. “I know all of that. We have time. I’m just thinking ahead. I’m thinking about the possible complications of birth, about the pregnancy itself, and the eight long months, the vitamins and checkups you won’t be receiving.” Raising a brow, he glanced at her sidelong. “…and the labor at the end? What about that?”

“What about it?” Peering at him from beneath dark lashes, she blew out an exasperated breath. “Oh Jeremy, I’m not worried about that. Women have been giving birth for thousands of years, and they’ve done it without medication or pain pills. You’re worried about afterward, aren’t you? Be honest. You’re worried about having a baby to tend to, about what his life will be like once he’s born.”

“Yes. There’s that, but it’s more than just that. It’s about the life we’ll be leaving for him.” He met her challenging gaze, where he could see his concerns mirrored back in her eyes. “I’m not saying this right. Don’t misunderstand. I want to be a father. I’ve always wanted that. But now that it’s happened, I’m wondering if it’s morally responsible to want it. What kind of life will this child—or any child—inherit? The world has reached a turning point, Suse, a point at which the quality of life is worse than it was for previous generations. For the first time in history, the world’s future is murkier than it’s past. I guess I’m just concerned about quality of life.”

She’d gone suddenly rigid at his side. “What are you suggesting?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not that. Never that. I’m only speaking in hypotheticals here.” He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear and tenderly kissed her cheek. “But I guess we can’t speak in hypotheticals anymore. So everything I’m saying is just wasted breath. Here’s the truth, Suse: I’m happy, really happy. I’m happy, thankful, scared, nervous. I’m experiencing so many emotions right now that I’m not communicating them properly. I love you, no matter what happens. And I’ll love our baby just as much.”

He distinctly remembered gathering her to his chest, and smoothing her hair down her back as he held her. “We’ll figure it out,” he said softly in her ear. “We’ll find a way to make it work. We always do.”

By then, the power grids had failed the surrounding neighborhoods, and the water pumps had ceased supplying homes with potable water, but the pregnancy—despite the lack of these—had been wonderful. Jeremy dropped his gaze to his hands, to the plastic case of pills in neat little rows. Recalling the images, he smiled through his tears. The labor had been difficult, as he’d expected it would be, but in the end, they’d welcomed a perfect baby girl. Against insurmountable odds, two became three, and Jeremy and Susan had never looked back. It was only after Sam’s third birthday that things began to change. With the onset of symptoms, their lives had taken a sharper edge.

Remembering his objective, he gently set the package of pills on the counter and continued down the aisle toward the medical devices. Blood pressure cuffs, syringes, home drug-testing kits: people had barely touched this area. And for good reason: all of these items were useless.

He turned the corner and nearly gagged. There, on the floor, in the back of the pharmacy, the store’s single occupant had erected a tent. Blankets draped a rear window, and a collection of garden tools surrounded the man’s feet. A decaying body was heaped in the corner, a long hoe clutched in a hand that had gone to mostly bone and bits of skin. Fighting his revulsion, Jeremy lifted a hand to his nose and squeezed. The damp heat of the current climate, and the closeness of the room were conducive to decay—and an accelerated decay at that. He looked away.

At the man’s feet was a small Lego castle, partially built and crudely designed. Frowning, Jeremy moved past the cadaver, to the final aisle of the pharmacy. It was the aisle he’d come to inspect in the first place, but for some reason, he always saved it for last. Maybe he liked to savor the unexpected, or maybe he was a glutton for punishment. Who knew?

Despite his expectations, it was always the same. It began with rows of blood sugar testers and glucose tabs—of which there were usually none, of course—followed by pumps and a refrigerator of vials—all of which were usually spoiled. He sighed. Frustrated, he waived his arm across a shelf, scattering the collection of bottles near the back. He almost turned away, but something caught his eye. He lifted it and gasped. How was this here? A bottle of insulin pills? What were the odds?

Though the pills were weaker than the disks by far, he was incredibly lucky to have made such a find. The device in Sam’s belly had been a luxury item, expensive, and for most people, hard to come by. The trajectory of the research he and Susan had discovered had pointed to a long-term marketing plan, but it was a plan that never came to fruition. The pharmaceutical companies had projected widespread distribution and use, with future releases, improvements and developments. The disks would become more advanced with time, culminating in a product that required replacement only once a year. But none of it happened. The world fell apart. People never received the implant, and so, were relegated to the pills. They were hard to come by.

He palmed the bottle with unbridled excitement, slipped it into his pocket and turned to leave. Sam was lucky enough to have an implant, luckier still to have the blood sugar indicator at her wrist. Jeremy knew the pills were weakening, but with the wrist indicator, he could monitor their strength. Too bad there was only one bottle.

Edging past the dead man’s booted foot, he slipped back into the darkened store. And following Sam’s beacon of light, he passed baby clothes and lawn furniture, picked up a box of plastic forks and then tossed them.

A short yet resonant blast stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Sam!” he yelled out as he ran toward her light. Had he just heard the sound of a whistle? “Sam, are you all right?” He crisscrossed aisles, wove between scattered debris.

“Back here!” she returned. “Dad, hurry!” She didn’t sound afraid, but excited, the tone of her voice somewhat higher than normal.

His footsteps echoed as he ran. Where was she? He wove between cans of paint, bags of long-dehydrated garden sod, and useless home décor, and found himself in the sports equipment aisle, where soccer balls rolled down the linoleum path, disturbed from years of quiet slumber. Jeremy stopped short, his eyes wide.

“Sam?”

There she was, at the end of the aisle, crouched low, focused on something. Moving slowly, he squinted through the light. It was difficult to make sense of the oddly shaped shadows. The beam of her flashlight illuminated something that suddenly moved. What the hell was it? He couldn’t make it out.

“Hey,” he heard her say. “Do you want to come out?”

A person? No. Jeremy’s heart skipped a beat. He took a step forward before stopping in his tracks, his heart pounding in his chest. There, in the depth of an empty shelf was a small cowering boy with eyes as round as saucers that darted back and forth like a trapped animal. Stopping immediately, Jeremy backed up.

“It’s okay, son,” he said, lifting his hands in supplication. “My name is Jeremy. This is my daughter, Sam. Are you hurt? Are you sick? Can we can help you find your parents?”

When he took another step, the boy flinched. Jeremy froze. He was small, too small, too frail, emaciated. He couldn’t be older than eight or nine, and he was clinging to a wicked pair of sharp garden shears, the size and length of which only accentuated the slightness of his form. They were sharp and glinted in his trembling hands. Jeremy’s pulse quickened.

“Sam, be careful.”

“He won’t hurt us, Dad.”

Of course she’d think that. Nothing frightened her—which was often incredibly stupid.

Jeremy mimicked her non-threatening pose, dropped to his knees and crawled forward on his hands. He stopped just behind her left shoulder. The boy didn’t appear well. His skin was dirty. His hair was matted. Jeremy cursed himself for leaving the food outside. How stupid. Wait. He wasn’t empty-handed. He tore open the package of dried peas. It wasn’t a Big-Mac but it would have to do. In a non-threatening way, he pushed the food toward the boy.

“For you, son,” he said, cupping a hand to his mouth. “Are you hungry? Here. Have something to eat.”

The boy’s gaze darted from Jeremy to Sam, before zeroing in on the package of food. His lips parted. His eyes flashed with longing.

“It’s okay,” Sam encouraged him softly. “You can have it. We’ve got plenty. This is yours.” Edging closer, she pushed the bag forward, offering it to him like she would a chest of gold. But the farther she moved from Jeremy, the more uncomfortable he became. She was too damn close to those blades. He tugged her boot.

“That’s far enough, Sam. Slow down.”

Peering over her shoulder, she chastised him. “He’s scared of you. Not me. You’re like a bull in a china shop to him.”

“I am? I’m scaring him? Are you serious? I’m not the one holding those blades.”

With a scowl, she turned her back and shrugged. “Don’t mind him. He’s just a big wimp.” Leaning forward, she pushed the food closer, until it came to rest near his toes. He flinched.

With a sigh, Jeremy rolled to his rump and watched, while Sam tried to reach him using a different tactic.

“Do you like Harry Potter?” she asked, and he nodded, his hand moving closer to the food. “Because I’ve got a few books in my pack. I can read them to you, if you like. Or we can pick up different books if you prefer something else. You could come to the library and pick out your own. Can you read?”

The boy nodded, his eyes fixed on the peas. His semi-clean clothing set a contrast with his grimy skin. Where, Jeremy wondered, would he find clean—

With a clumsy lurch, the boy leaned forward, snatched the bag of peas and scuttled away like a crab. He ripped into the package and scooped up the food, shoving as much as he could into his mouth. A Walmart tag was dangling from his shirt, while similar ones hung from his pants and shoes. So he’d been here a while, Jeremy realized. Long enough to exchange inferior clothing for new.

“Dad, do you have any water?” Sam whispered.

“Oh yeah. One sec. I’ve got one right here.”

He slowly lowered the pack from his back, pulled out a bottle, and crawled forward. Reconsidering, he stopped and handed it to Sam. While the boy seemed somewhat comfortable with her, he didn’t seem trusting of adults just yet. And those shears were still within reach.

“So,” Sam ventured, matter-of-factly. Crossing her legs, she tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Got a name?”

The boy didn’t answer so she pressed him. “Well, if you don’t, what do we call you then? We can’t call you Boy or Kid or Son. Not forever, at least. How about Kenneth or Tom or Jim?”

Jeremy noticed the boy relaxing. His shoulders dropped in response to her voice. Funny things happen to humans over time. When humans are sequestered from other humans, strange things happen to the psyche. As much as one desires companionship and love, the prospect of both can become just as frightening.

Jeremy cleared his throat, made to speak. He would play along with this crazy charade, see where it went and then decide what to do. “I don’t think he’s a Kenneth, Sam. Not a Tom or Jim, either. He looks like a Tiger or a Hippo to me.”

As much as he fought it, the boy smiled.

“Yeah,” Jeremy continued. “Hippo sounds right. I mean, look how fat he is! It only makes sense. He’s downright enormous. Get this kid on a diet.”

Sam burst into giggles and nudged the water forward. Braver this time, the boy plucked it from her outstretched hand. He stopped chewing long enough to clear his voice and speak.

“Seth,” he said, his voice hoarse. “My name’s Seth.”

His unused voice was like gravel beneath the heel of a boot.

“Seth,” Sam responded, with a meaningful nod. “Yeah. Okay. I can live with Seth, but you need a fish name.” She pointed to her chest. “I’m Sam, but my name’s really Pike. You see? And this is my dad. His name’s Carp.”

Seth pulled from lustily from the bottle in his hand then wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Why do I need a fish name?”

Why indeed. Jeremy frowned. What was up with this game? Why was Sam intent on honoring a tradition that had been passed to them by killers and thieves? The day she’d named herself had practically broken his heart.

“Because it makes you tougher,” she explained. “That’s why. It makes you part of a gang, or a crew. To be a gang member, you need a gang name. I’m sorry, but that’s just how it works.”

Seth crammed a handful of peas into his mouth and appeared to consider his options. “Great white?” he said finally.

Sam shook her head. “Can’t be two words. Two syllables? Fine. But not two words.”

“Then how about Cod, or Trout?”

“Nope.” She pursed her lips. “Doesn’t sound right.” She peered at Jeremy from over her shoulder. “Any advice from the peanut gallery?”

Jeremy pretended to ponder the question. “How about Goldfish or Salmon? I still like Salmon. Or what about Kelp or Mullet?”

Shaking her head, she returned her gaze to Seth. “He’s terrible at this. Those are awful ideas. And mullet?” She tossed Jeremy an exasperated look. “Ridiculous. A mullet was a horrible hairdo in the 1980’s. A mullet was never a fish.”

Strangely, it was.

Seth straightened, his eyes hopeful. “What about Jellyfish?”

“No jellyfish!” Sam and Jeremy laughed out loud.

“Well,” Seth said, “Then I really don’t know. I don’t know many kinds of fish. I’ve never been to the ocean.”

He dropped the package of peas beside his leg and curled his fist around a Lego. When he brought it to his chest and cradled it lovingly, Jeremy’s stomach lurched uncomfortably. The toy brought to mind the dead man in the pharmacy. Enough chitchat. He needed answers.

“Enough about the names, guys. We’ll figure it out later. Seth, how long have you been in this store?”

Seth lifted his face to meet Jeremy’s gaze. “A long time, I think, but I’m not really sure.”

Jeremy dared to ask the million-dollar question. “And are you here by yourself?”

“No.” Seth’s voice was small, like he didn’t want to answer, and though his eyes welled with tears, he thrust out his chin. “No,” he said, with more confidence this time. “I’m not by myself. I’m here with my Mom.”

Jeremy’s heart felt heavy. That was a woman back there? He took a deep breath to steady himself. “Then I guess we should find her, shouldn’t we? After all, we can’t leave you here alone. That wouldn’t be right. Is there anyone else we can take you back to?”

He perked up at that, his body rigid. He was a rabbit that had caught the scent of a fox nearby. “You’re leaving?”

“No.” Sam turned to glare at Jeremy. “We’re not leaving. But we can’t stay here. And neither can you.”

Seth’s face crumpled. “I’m not leaving my mom.”

“Okay,” Jeremy conceded, “then let’s find her. Your house must be somewhere nearby. Is that right? Can we help you get home?”

The direct line of questioning was stressing the child, and truth be told, it was stressing Jeremy, too. He had no time for this. They had to get going. Seth was a boy who could read and speak and hold intelligent conversations. The sky was darkening through the storefront windows, and Jeremy was yet to find a safe place for them to camp for the night. Never mind his pressing need to return to the bikes, which were hidden behind the parking lot along with all of their worldly possessions. He had tired of this game. Time to wrap things up. Crossing his legs, he moved closer.

“Seth,” he began slowly, “I think I found your mom. Is she inside the pharmacy, in the back of the store?”

Though Seth ignored the question, Sam flinched. Meeting Jeremy’s gaze, she blinked, and when the truth settled in, she turned back to Seth.

“Seth, I think it would be best if you came with us. We’ve got plenty of food, and lots of water, and my Dad is taking us to a very special place. It’ll be like an adventure. Will you come?”

“Sam,” Jeremy said softly. “Come with us? What are you saying?”

“We’ll talk about it later,” she hissed back at him. “Let’s see if he has a house. Let’s start with that. If he does, then at least we have a place to stay for the night.”

Jeremy sighed. She made a good point. A house would be a nice change of pace.

Seth’s head was now buried in his hands. “Seth,” Jeremy said, “I’ll be honest with you. I saw your mother, back at the pharmacy. And son,” he added, “I need to speak to you now—man-to-man, if you can let me do that. You’re a big boy, right? I’m mean look at you. Look how well you’ve done in this store. You’ve been here, alone, for all this time, and you’ve obviously taken good care of yourself. You’ve done a great job to say the least. You’re not little anymore. You’re not a baby, right? You’re an adult now, and adults tell each other the truth. Even when the telling is difficult to do.” He inched closer, his steel-toed boots nearly touching Seth’s neon sneaker. “Seth, your mother passed away, didn’t she? She’s passed on to heaven, and now you’re here with us.”

Seth raised his head from his hands. Tears had tracked twin paths down his face, like tribal lines had been painted his cheeks. Twice he tried to speak but couldn’t, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Jeremy beheld his trembling hands and ill-fitted clothing with fresh eyes. Now that he was closer, he could see that the pants hung from his body in folds. They would hang past his shoes when he walked. The seams of his shirt fell well past his elbows. This was a boy who needed tending, care, and love. It wouldn’t be proper to leave him here alone. Not after what had happened a few weeks ago…not after…

Jeremy caught his breath and pushed the thought aside. He refused to ponder that now.

Surprising himself, he opened his arms, and for an instant, Seth’s features morphed into someone else. Beneath the flashlight’s dancing beam, the bridge of Seth’s nose seemed to narrow and lengthen. His brow seemed to deepen and furrow, and though Jeremy knew it was a trick of light and shadow, it was an effective one, and elicited a sharp response, a sudden blooming of shame and guilt. His decision was instant. There was no other path. He found his eyes brimming with tears. He was offering safe harbor, the promise of family, life to a person who surely faced death. But there was something else too, wasn’t there? It was something Jeremy needed for himself: atonement, repentance, for past misdeeds. It had been nearly five months since he and Sam had been forced from their cabin, and so much had happened since then. He’d encountered others, and stolen from them. No, he cursed himself. He’d done much worse. He shook his head. How strange life was. It always seemed to circle back to the beginning. How similar Seth was to Peter. The situations were oddly parallel, weren’t they? It was impossible to miss the symmetry. How long had it been since he’d last thought of Peter? A hour? A day? Maybe two at the most? Those memories were never far from his mind.

He wasn’t sure Seth would respond to his invitation. But he did, immediately and viscerally. From deep inside, a sob tore from Seth’s chest. He lunged at Jeremy, the shears spinning away from his foot. Throwing himself into Jeremy’s lap, he curled himself there like a cat. He clutched Jeremy’s shirt and wept freely, the heaving of his shoulder’s matching Jeremy’s own.

Time slipped away while Jeremy stroked Seth’s hair. He wasn’t sure how long they sat in the dark, until Sam slid closer and faced them. Balancing her elbows on her knees, she glanced from Seth to Jeremy. “You owe him this,” she whispered. “This is healthy for you. You’ve needed to fix your karma for a long time now.”

Jeremy lifted his tear-streaked face. “Karma?”

“For Peter. You know it’s true. You know that’s why you’re upset.”

His eyes searched hers. Dear God. She knew. She’d probably known all this time. Damn it to hell. How could she know? For all this time, had she known and said nothing? He readied himself for her anger and judgment. He prepared himself for her sharp accusations. To his relief, she had none to give. Saying nothing, she pushed herself up to her feet and peered down at him from the bridge of her nose.

“It’s okay, Dad. I know. I’ve always known. What you did to Peter was unforgivable. I’ve struggled with it. You should know that. I’ve examined it from every possible angle, from every point of view, but there’s no right answer. What you did was wrong, and I think you know it too.”

Her hands were fluttering at her sides, nervously. He suddenly realized how hard this was for her. God, how he admired her strength. She was a marvel to him, much wiser than her age.

“Dad, I still haven’t gotten past this. I can’t seem to put a good spin on what you did. It was reprehensible, and will always be so.” She gulped a breath of air. “But you did it for me. I know that now. I know that you did it for me.”

Bending down, she reached toward his waist, where attached to his belt was a tiny figurine. It tinkled softly when she grasped it in her hand, a miniature stuffed bear with a collar around its neck and a tiny bell jingling at the side. It was grimy and faded. Jeremy startled when he saw it. She held it in an open palm, examined it closely then closed her fist. Spinning away, she slipped it into her pocket, picked up her pack, and disappeared down the aisle. Her last words lingered like an exotic perfume.

“I forgive you,” she whispered as she rounded the corner, and with that, Jeremy’s tears spilled anew.

After some time Jeremy managed to untangle himself from Seth’s clutching arms. He carried him through the store, searching for Sam, and found her smelling an assortment of candles. The three of them took a final walk through the store. Good God, he marveled. How light Seth was. He couldn’t weigh more than forty pounds.

They added a collection of items to their basket: a screwdriver that had fallen behind a shelf, Saltines, a dusty roll of Lifesavers. Nothing but junk. In the spice aisle, Sam found bottles of paprika and curry, useless to many, but valuable to her.

At Jeremy’s insistence, they gave the pharmacy a wide berth, leaving the store without speaking about what was inside. Shoulder-to-shoulder, they stood beneath the stars, gulped the fresh air and marveled at the world. Jeremy set Seth to his feet, and after smoothing his shirt, wound a cord through the loops of his pants and tied a knot.

“That ought to get us as far as your house. You’re bound to have a belt at home. Something that actually fits?”

Seth nodded and crinkled his brow. “What about my Mom? What do we do?”

Sam stepped forward, crouching low. “I’ve been thinking about that. How about this? Let’s eat a hot meal, get a good night’s sleep, and tomorrow, we’ll come back and give her a proper burial.”

Lifting her finger, she pointed toward the crest of a hill, where light from a crescent moon fell in silvery beams to the grass. “I saw some old shovels in the store,” she added, “I say we bury her up on that hill, maybe say a little prayer, something like that. What do you think?”

Seth nodded soberly and offered her his hand, and the three started walking toward the bikes.

“Wait.” Seth stopped. “We can’t go back to my house. Won’t the bad men still be there? It’s not safe.”

Jeremy froze. Good point. “We’ll approach it slowly,” he said. “I’ll go first. We won’t go in unless it’s safe. I promise.”

He and Sam walked the bikes, while Seth led the way to his house. As he became more comfortable, he became quite chatty, telling the story of how he’d come to live inside an old Walmart store. His father had gone in search of supplies three years ago, but had never returned. After that, ‘bad men’ had ambushed their home, but the Christmas bells tied to the top of their door had jingled a warning and they’d gotten away. They’d lived inside that old Walmart ever since. Their family was the last on their block, Seth said, maybe even the last in their town, which his father accredited to structure and organization, and to the surface of their roof, which was flat, where they stored rainwater and grew various kinds of food.

Seth’s father sounded much like Jeremy’s own. He’d barricaded the house, set up rain catchers, planted fruits and vegetables in a series of planters. They’d had beans, nuts, root vegetables, citrus fruits, and even a compost heap for re-fertilization of the soil. All this Jeremy gathered in bits and pieces, from a breathless Seth as he trotted beside them.

“Mom said they set it up before I was born. I was an ‘oops’ baby, she told me.” He laughed. “But that was okay, because Dad started saving supplies years before that. He said that’s how we stayed alive while everyone else died.” In the half-light of twilight, Seth lifted his gaze to Jeremy. “Where are all the people, Carp? People don’t just disappear into thin air. So where did they all go?”

“You’re right, Seth. They don’t. This started happening years before you were born. You and Sam didn’t go to school like I did. And even then things were falling apart. People just weren’t prepared for this kind of catastrophe, and as a result, they starved to death. That slow starvation has been happening for decades.”

“So we’re the last people in the world?”

“No.” The innocence of his question was disarming. “There are lots of other people out there, Seth, I’m sure. Many have claimed large plantations of land, in the Midwest and Southeast parts of the country, while others have remained in what remains of big cities. Most, though, have hunkered down and built quiet lives for themselves. Most are just trying to get by. It’s the only way to survive nowadays.”

Seth was silent for a speculative moment. As they walked down residential streets, past homes, Jeremy tried to ignore overgrown lawns and collapsing roofs, the remains of homes that had succumbed to the elements. The chains of their bikes buzzed like insects, and Jeremy marveled at how normal he suddenly felt. It was almost as if they’d been out for the night, at the movies, or down at the park.

“So,” Seth reasoned, pulling Jeremy back to reality. “If hunkering down is the only way to survive, then what are you two doing here? Shouldn’t you be hunkering down somewhere?”

Jeremy lacked the confidence to answer.

“We were,” Sam said. “Hunkered down, so to speak. We’ve only been out here for about half a year.”

“Not quite half a year.” Jeremy corrected her gently. “Though it sometimes feels like longer, I admit.”

“Half of an entire year.” She sounded mystified. “But before that, we were hunkered down. We had everything we needed, but we lost it all.” She turned her face toward Seth and met his gaze. “Bad men took our house too. They chased us from our cabin, left us with nothing but a cart we’d hidden in the woods.”

“At least you had each other,” he said. “So, technically, you didn’t lose everything.” His face was solemn and his voice had almost cracked.

“True,” Sam admitted. “We did have each other. But we had more than that before the bad men came. Before them, we still had my mom.”

Seth drew closer and leaned into her, and when she squeezed his shoulders, Jeremy’s heart swelled with pride.

“We’re the same,” Seth whispered. “We both lost our moms. We both lost our homes and now we might die, too.”

“Hey,” Jeremy said. “Stop that. Nobody uses the ‘D’ word in front of me. Nobody’s dying on my watch, guys. And besides, not everything is bad. We’re not just wandering the countryside aimlessly. We’re following a plan. We know where we’re going. We’re on our way to someplace new. When we get there, we’ll hunker down and plant a new garden. We’ll set up new supplies and build ourselves a home.”

“Okay,” Seth said. “So where are you going?”

“Not you.” Sam corrected him. “We. It’s where we are going, and it’s to San Diego, California. What do you think about that?”

Seth frowned. “Isn’t that far? What’s in San Diego?”

Sam’s answer was a breath on the wind. “The ocean. That’s what. The ocean is there.”

“That,” Jeremy acknowledged, “and other things too: rich soil for planting, a more temperate climate. The list goes on. It’s a good place to go.”

Sam eyed him sidelong. “Is that all?”

“Meh.” He shrugged. “Perhaps a few more things.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she mumbled before turning to Seth. “He won’t tell us everything. He thinks he’s got some big secret.”

“So you’re taking me to San Diego to see the ocean,” Seth said, his tone introspective, like he was working out the details by saying them aloud. “That’s really far, Carp. My Dad always said it’s not safe to travel far. Why don’t we just hunker down here? Try to rebuild my garden on the roof—only if the bad men are gone, I mean. Wouldn’t it be safer if we just did that?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, with a hint of smugness. “That definitely makes more sense. Wouldn’t you say?”

“We’re going to San Diego for other reasons, guys. We have to go that specific place, and we have to get there fast.” He turned to Seth. “I know it’s difficult to leave your home. Trust me—trust us. We know. But I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t think it was best. Suffice it to say, we wouldn’t be traveling that far if we didn’t have to. But we don’t have a choice. We have to. And we’d love it if you would come with us.”

“It’s going to be dangerous,” Seth cautioned them sagely.

Jeremy ruffled his hair. “Perhaps. But it’s safer than being alone. Don’t you think? And it’s definitely safer than living inside an old Walmart store.”

“Besides,” Sam added, “you’re a gang member now. You’re tough. You’ve got nothing to fear anymore.”

Seth shook his head, “No, I’m not. Not yet. You said I can’t be a gang member unless I have a gang name. I don’t have one yet, so right now, I’m just Seth.”

“Just Seth,” Sam repeated, peering up, toward the moon. “Marlin,” she said quietly. “Your name will be Marlin.”

“Marlin? Okay. Like Merlin the wizard.”

“Sure.” Sam smiled. “Like that.”

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