Barren Waters, A Post-Apocalyptic Tale of Survival

Humans could never accept the world as it was and live in it. They were always breaking it and living among the shattered pieces.

—Robin Hobb, Blood of Dragons

Chapter 10

Present Day

“How are you holding up, Seth?”

Jeremy watched the boy’s feet pedal furiously. The bike they had found wasn’t set to the correct gear. For some reason, it refused to shift properly. Tonight, when they stopped, he’d have to take another look.

But at least they’d found one. He was thankful for that. For some reason the fates had delivered them a third bike. Not that Jeremy believed in fate. In his experience, it didn’t exist. Once you committed to looking for a thing, once you were focused on one specific item, it always seemed to appear faster. The bike had come from one of Seth’s neighbors’ houses, down the street, from a garage, to be exact. And even though it was a rare find, it was a bit too small for his growing frame. The tires had been flat, but thankfully whole, and when the wheels turned they made a horrible screeching sound, but Jeremy was able to make it work.

“Merlin,” Seth corrected him from over his shoulder. “My name’s Merlin now. And I’m doing just fine.”

“Not Merlin,” Sam corrected him. “Marlin. We talked about this. Get it right. Merlin was a wizard not a fish.”

“But I like Merlin better!”

Jeremy groaned. He had tired of this familiar argument. “Pike,” he called out, “number please.”

She lifted her arm and peered at her wrist. “Eighty-eight.”

“Good,” he said. “Perfect.” Increasing his speed, he pulled alongside Seth. It was time to discuss the next leg of the journey, and though he’d planned to address it casually, his pulse was thundering in his ears.

“Okay guys,” he said. “Listen up. Here’s the thing: we’ve crossed into Memphis, now, and in another three miles, I-55 crosses the Mississippi River. Do you feel like crossing it tonight, or tomorrow? If you’re tired, we can stop, camp on this side of the river, then bike across it in the morning. What do you think?”

Sam’s excitement couldn’t be contained. “Are you kidding me, Carp? Tonight, of course!” She glanced at the sun, now low in the sky. “The sun won’t set for at least two hours. I think we should do it tonight!”

Seth, unlike Sam, was reluctant, which was odd. It was rare for him to disagree with her. In the short week they had spent together, he’d already put her on a ridiculously high pedestal. He idolized her, and he didn’t hide it well. Whatever it was she wanted to do, he was doing it, right alongside her. He was a little lost puppy, nipping at her heels. But curiously, this time was different. He was overly cautious, wary of something.

“A river? he asked, a slight tremble in his voice. “How will we cross it?”

“Easily,” Jeremy reassured him. “On a bridge, overhead. We won’t get anywhere near that water. We’ll be high above it, and dry, looking down. We’ll cross it tonight, make camp on the other side.”

Seth’s brow was creased with concern. “But I’m not supposed to get close to water. Won’t we get sick when we cross it?”

Sam slowed down and fell into place beside them. “It can’t hurt us, Marlin, and we have no choice. We have to cross the River if we want to get to San Diego. Besides, it only makes you sick if you drink it.”

Jeremy took the lead. It was now or never. “She’s right, Marlin. We’ll be fine. Let’s do it now. Let’s get it over with. We won’t get anywhere near it. I promise.”

Seth pursed his lips but kept pedaling. They’d been approaching the river for some time now. Jeremy had smelled it a few miles back. And it wasn’t that he feared to cross it. It wouldn’t harm them; Sam was right. It was harmless if not ingested. He just feared to look upon the devastation. The Mississippi River was one of the foulest bodies of water on the planet—or so he’d been told, and had read in books. It was responsible for killing all the wildlife in the Gulf of Mexico. For decades, it had been like a tumorous growth, leaking poisons into a healthy body. It would be difficult to behold in person. Much worse—he hoped—than the Pacific Ocean would be.

He blindly fished through his side pannier, palmed a granola bar, and pulled alongside Sam. “Pike, time to eat. Do you need to stop?”

“Nope.” She smiled. “I’m an excellent multi-tasker.”

She ripped into the plastic with her teeth while Seth watched. He was curious, of late, about her illness. “She’s like a robot,” he had said, that first night he saw the florescent numbers at her wrist. And when she’d lifted her shirt to show him her implant, he’d pulled back, startled, and then smiled.

“Yep,” she’d said. “I’m a robot.” She pointed to her belly. “This keeps me alive.”

And from that moment on, he’d made a game of her illness: guessing her sugars, giving her food, catching her when she got fuzzy.

“Does it hurt?” he’d asked once, his eyes lidded with sympathy.

“No. Not really. Just a bit sometimes, but only when we have to change the disk.” She’d peered at her belly before meeting Jeremy’s gaze. “Which I’m afraid we’ll have to do soon, Carp. I’m at fourteen percent. This disk is almost empty.”

“I know,” Jeremy had said. “It’s okay. In a few more days, we’ll load you back up.”

“Can I watch?” Seth asked, far too enthusiastically.

Jeremy didn’t think Sam would let him do that, though it was endearing the way Seth doted on her. She was probably the first child he’d seen for many years, if ever, and she wasn’t even a child anymore. But it was more than just admiration or mild curiosity; she was something new for him to focus on, something other than the death of his mother. Seth, though young, was strong for his age, but Jeremy knew he was still struggling privately. He hadn’t yet told the full story of what had happened to him. Jeremy didn’t know how long he’d been living inside that Walmart, with his mother’s corpse on the opposite end of the store. But if her level of decay was any indication, it was longer than was healthy for a child his age. Not that he wasn’t well adjusted, Jeremy thought. He was surprisingly resilient and levelheaded. His zest for life, and the buoyancy with which he tackled everyday tasks, bespoke of a strong parentage. He had obviously been loved, his character shaped and molded by devoted parents.

Before they’d left Scottsboro, Jeremy had conducted a brief but touching ceremony to honor Seth’s mother. Seth had needed closure and Jeremy had wanted to give him that. He’d chosen a spot at the tope of a gentle rise, and the three of them had dug a shallow grave. It had been a quiet, sunny morning. Seth had grabbed a small hand shovel, which had done more to fill the hole than it had to hollow it out, but the morning had been strangely pleasant.

They’d wrapped her body in soft blankets, and Seth had draped her in her favorite shawl. They’d picked wildflowers: yellow celandines, purple dog violets. Sam had found clusters of baby blue eyes, while Seth argued fervently that dandelions were flowers, not weeds. Several sprigs of fuchsia foxgloves had made the meager collection seem ample. And together they’d gathered around the small grave. Seth had spoken of her love for her rooftop garden, and expressed his hope that she’d reunited with his father.

“I’d like to do a reading,” Sam had said, rather proudly. “Something I selected from Jules Verne.”

“All right.” They’d finally made it to the Scottsboro library, and she’d somehow located Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, which she and Seth were now obsessed with. “Let’s have it then, Sam,” Jeremy said. “Carry on.”

“The sea is everything,” she began, soberly. “It covers seven tenths of the terrestrial globe. Its breath is pure and healthy. It is an immense desert, where man is never lonely, for he feels life stirring on all sides. The sea is the only embodiment of a supernatural and wonderful existence. It is nothing but love and emotion.”

Lowering the book, she’d gazed at them expectantly. Jeremy coughed into his fist. Seth appeared confused.

“Hmmm,” Jeremy said. “That’s…interesting Sam. But I’m not quite sure it’s relevant? It’s a beautiful quote, but perhaps a bit obscure?”

“No it’s not,” she argued. “Don’t you get it? When we die, we go to heaven. And for me, heaven is a sparkling ocean, with red, blue, and yellow fish. Like the book. See? Just like it says. Heaven is an ocean with life stirring on all sides.”

“He was talking about the desert when he said that.”

“What?”

“That part about life stirring on all sides—he was talking about a desert.”

“Well…” she stammered before closing the book. With a huff, she scowled. Seth giggled behind his hand. “Well,” she repeated, “I thought is was beautiful. Beautiful and apt.”

“Oh, it’s…beautiful, alright.” Jeremy smiled. “It’s perfect, Pike. Thank you for sharing it.”

Remembering that day made him smile. They’d shared a laugh at the top of that hill, a bit of merriment despite an inauspicious occasion. And though it had been at Sam’s expense, she’d been a good sport. He’d been proud.

“Dad, I think we’re here,” he heard her say. Pulled from his daydreams, he focused his attention on the entrance to the bridge.

“Ick!” Seth complained. “It smells terrible.” He squashed his hand against his nose, and when that didn’t help, lifted the neck of his shirt. “Why is it so stinky?” he asked, his words muffled through the fabric of his shirt.

Jeremy put on a burst of speed. “Because it’s dead,” he called out over his shoulder. “That’s why. It’s dead and rotting, but we need to get across it. Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

He led them to the foot of the bridge then stopped to behold the road ahead.

Seth came skidding up behind him and gasped. “It’s huge!” he exclaimed.

“It is.” Jeremy answered. “Too huge. Let’s cross the damn thing before it gets dark.”

He edged onto the timeworn ramp. Weeds hadn’t completely destroyed the paving yet. At least the road was still wide and smooth. But when he peered at the immense body of water to either side, his stomach flipped nauseously. It was worse than he’d expected. Much worse.

“Oh my God,” Sam breathed, pulling up behind him. Swerving, she nearly lost control of her bike.

“Sam, watch it, please,” Jeremy said, halfheartedly, before pulling onto the ramp to take the lead. She was staring at the water, open-mouthed, her hand cupping her mouth. She pulled ahead but then veered off again, her front tire bumping the lip of the sidewalk. Frowning, Jeremy pulled to a stop. “Guys, pay attention to what you’re doing. This is dangerous. If you can’t keep your eyes on the road, we can’t ride. We’ll have to walk the bikes on the side of the road.”

They silently agreed, hopped off their bikes, and wheeled them to the pedestrian lane in a fog, where they kicked down the stands and set their hands to the rail.

The water was nothing if not putrid. The three of them leaned over the edge to peer into its murky depths, but couldn’t see past the surface level of scum.

“I can’t see the bottom,” said Sam.

“I can’t see the water,” Seth echoed her strangely.

Indeed, Jeremy thought. It was overrun with algae. The ‘water’ was a green field, its consistency similar to that of pea soup, and though he knew it wasn’t warm to the touch, it appeared to bubble like a cauldron over a flame, like a curdling consommé of bacteria and other waste products. Streaks of an unknown red contaminant veined through the green, like blood. He likened it to an arterial pathway ferrying poisonous sewage to the vital organs of an ailing body. It was an agricultural soup one wouldn’t want to eat. Clumps of dead grasses dotted the green, along with clusters of non-biodegradable plastics and other decaying matter.

It broke Jeremy’s heart to look upon it.

Leaning out over the edge, Seth lifted a hand to his eyes, as if doing that would help him see the bottom more clearly. “Are there any fish in there?”

Sam huffed. “Of course not. There aren’t any fish anywhere, you dope. But especially not in there.” She crinkled her nose. “Dad, it smells funny, like trash, but also like something else.”

She was right. It was affecting him, too. The acrid smell scratched the back of his throat and stung his eyes in a distracting way. He didn’t want to think about the effects on their lungs. What was causing it? Bleach? Fertilizer? Pesticides? A combination of all three, perhaps? He abruptly backed away from the edge.

“Let’s go guys. We need to get out of here. I don’t think we should stay any longer than we have to.”

Neither Seth nor Sam objected, and the three walked their bikes to the center of the road, where they wordlessly pedaled toward the far end of the bridge. Like a murky fog, silence fell upon them. He’d expected them to ask more questions than they did, but they must’ve been focused on their own private musings.

The journey across the bridge was unusually silent, save for the whir of tires and the creaking of the bridge as it shifted with the movements of the earth. When they passed a sign welcoming them to sunny Arkansas, Jeremy breathed a sigh of relief. Yet another state was behind them now. It was another small win, but it was also something else, something that saddened him greatly. They were another state farther from their home, another state farther from the place they’d lost Susan. It was another state he wouldn’t visit again, not for the rest of his life, which was a strange and humbling thing to ponder, a curious stream of consciousness that led to thoughts of one’s own mortality. One day, he mused, this bridge would tumble to the ground. One day, humans would be extinct. Humans would be gone. This bridge would topple over. It would plunge into the filthy river along with everything else man-made. As he peered at the bilge stretching north and south, he couldn’t help but wonder if that was such a bad thing.

Just as the sun was dipping below the horizon, they reached the other side of the bridge. Jeremy felt like he could finally breath again. There was something satisfying about putting half the country behind him. They’d crossed the Mississippi River! They’d done it! They’d technically reached the western half of the United States. They’d make real, measurable progress. He sat up straighter, felt himself smile, and began to scout the road ahead for promising exits. He’d take them as far as Bridgeport, if he could, where he’d find an old motel. They’d never stayed in a motel before, and—

“Dad!” Sam shrieked, her voice shrill.

Jeremy was so startled he nearly fell off his bike. A glance over his shoulder made him clench his jaw. What the hell was Seth doing? He had set his bike to the pavement in a rush, and was picking his way down the polluted embankment.

“Seth!” Jeremy shouted, his voice an octave too high. “What are you doing?” In one fluid motion, he dropped his bike to the ground. “Sam, stay here. Don’t you move from this spot. Do you understand me? Am I clear? You are not to move from this spot.” She was wringing her hands, hopping from foot to foot. She had never hid stress or agitation very well. “Sam! Did you hear me? Did you hear what I said? Don’t you dare move from—”

“I heard you!” she shouted, casting him an irritated glance. “What are you waiting for? Go get him!”

With a nod, he turned, and, “Marlin,” he yelled, “you can’t go down there. It’s dangerous!”

Seth’s voice rose from the depths of the ravine. “I saw something, Carp! I’ll be right back. I’m just gonna see what it is.”

Grinding his molars, Jeremy followed Seth’s path down the slide. Although he was loath to touch anything, he was forced to use his hands to keep from slipping on the trash. Why on earth was Seth doing this? What could have peaked his interest enough to overcome his natural revulsion? The smell alone was enough to make one vomit.

He was forced to move carefully as he picked his way down. The water level was lower than it normally was, and it hadn’t rained as often as it had in recent years. While one might think that would make descent easier, it somehow only made it worse. When the water receded, it left behind a rotten and rancid footprint. Algae-laced trash littered the embankment like fallen leaves, along with patches of dead grasses, unnatural in color and smell. Everything was damp and slimy and rotten.

He heard Seth scream and nearly panicked. He looked up. And after losing his footing, managed to keep upright by plunging his hands into a stinking mound of filth. A cloud of chemicals lifted and burned his nostrils. He fought to suppress his rising gorge.

Seth moaned, pulling his attention toward the edge of the river, where Seth was lying too close to the edge of the bank. He was on his side, clutching his leg, rolling around, clearly in pain. He was dangerously close to the edge of the water, and at the sight of bright blood, Jeremy’s panic deepened.

From above, he heard Sam gasp at the sight. “No,” he screamed. “Don’t you even think about it! Do not come down here, Sam!” His tone challenged her to defy him, and he struggled to focus his attention on Seth. “Hold on Marlin, I’m on my way to you. Roll away from the water, son. Away from the water. You’re too damned close to the edge. You cannot fall into that water!”

Having reached the bottom, he carefully padded his way toward Seth, his feet sinking into the mire as he went, the mud sucking strangely at the bottom of his boots.

“Seth,” he breathed as he stumbled up beside him. “Dear God, boy. What the hell were you thinking?”

Seth gasped through obvious pain. He peered up at Jeremy, eyes brimming with tears he refused to let spill. Man, Jeremy thought, this kid was brave.

“The mirror,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “I wanted it. I just wanted to get it for her.”

“The mirror?” Jeremy crouched, pulling Seth to his chest. “What on earth are you talking about? Good grief. Let me see what you’ve done.”

Seth bit his lip but bravely lifted his hands from atop his wound. Jeremy sucked in a breath. It was bad. The cut was long and deep, but appeared clean enough. It began just below the knee and ended on the fleshy outer part of his shin.

Jeremy quickly pushed Seth’s hands back over the wound. “Keep it covered for a moment,” he whispered, and peeling off his shirt, replaced Seth’s bloody hands with the fabric. He pressed down hard to tie a tight tourniquet and then lifted Seth into his arms. “You wanna tell me what this was all about?”

Seth’s face was pale and pinched when he answered. “The mirror,” he repeated, pointing a bloodstained finger at a shimmery object. “I just wanted to get Sam the mirror.”

“What for?”

Seth’s eyes darted to where she was standing. She was towering over them, at the top of the bridge, leaning over the edge, the wind whipping her blond hair in clouds around her face. Though she couldn’t possibly hear what they were saying, Seth lowered his voice to something barely above a whisper.

“She told me she was ugly,” he said quietly, “and that she hadn’t seen her face in weeks. I just wanted her to see how beautiful she is.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Jeremy took a deep breath. “Okay, Casanova. Let’s get topside and take a look at that leg.”

Slipping the broken mirror into his pocket, he clutched Seth closer to his chest. With Seth’s added weight, the trip uphill was significantly more difficult. As he crested the ridge, Jeremy met Sam’s gaze.

“You’ll have to walk the bikes by yourself,” he told her. “I’ll take mine, and Seth will sit on my handlebars. He can’t walk or ride by himself. He’s in too much pain.” Shaking his head, Jeremy reconsidered the plan. “No. Leave his bike. We’ll get it tomorrow. Right now we need to find a place to sleep for the night. And we need to tend this wound. Fast.”

Sam’s eyes widened as she beheld the blood soaking his shirt. She paled and her fingers were trembling at her sides. “Is it deep?”

“No, Sam. He’ll be fine.”

“But Dad, it’s so dirty down there. Won’t it get—”

“Sam, stop. Do what I said. Get your bike. Seth will be fine, but we need to get moving. You and I are going to have to stitch this wound.”

Seth’s body trembled at the words, though stoically, he refused to complain. Jeez, Jeremy thought, he has it bad for Sam. Lifting him gently, he set Seth’s body across his bike’s handlebars. He would keep the leg elevated, as much as possible, and pedal with Seth propped up against his chest.

“You good, Marlin?”

“Yep. I’m okay. Let’s go.”

His voice was weaker than it normally was, and a lot of blood had soaked that shirt. His knuckles were impossibly white against the handlebars. Jeremy feared he would pass out soon. Putting on a burst of speed, he led Sam onto the flat plain of I-55, Westbound. At the end of this road were old inns and motels. He remembered seeing them on the map.

Though they pedaled fast, Seth’s head began to droop. With each passing mile, his chin tucked closer to his chest.

“Look alive, boy. We’re almost there,” Jeremy said, racing farther west and turning right on an old service road. East Broadway, he noted, reading the sign. “There,” he called out to Sam, “Budget Inn. Just ahead.”

It was a cheap-looking sign, the lettering faded and worn, the plastic warped and peeling. And the building wasn’t much nicer than the sign. The left side of the roof had caved in years before, but the rooms on the right appeared solid enough.

It will have to do, Jeremy said to himself, skidding to a stop and lifting Seth into his arms. Letting the bike fall to the ground, he ran to the door. “Stay with me, Marlin.” He kicked the door open. “Be strong.”

“I’m okay, Carp,” Seth muttered, though not convincingly.

Jeremy gently lowered him to the bed and propped a pillow behind his head. Sam, though timid, was soon resourceful. After passing Jeremy their first aid kit, she dropped to her knees beside him. Jeremy focused on the mess that had become Seth’s leg. It didn’t look good. It was bleeding profusely. Jeremy’s makeshift tourniquet had soaked through. He gingerly peeled it away from the wound, wiped away fresh blood, and considered the trauma. The edge of the mirror had been sharp, thankfully. The cut it had made was clean, not jagged, which was one small thing to be thankful for. With a needle and a small bit of thread, it would mend, but it would hurt like hell when Jeremy did it.

Sensing his reluctance, Sam moving to Seth’s head, lifted his pale hand and clasped it tenderly. “Merlin,” she murmured, “You’ll have to be strong now.”

“Not Merlin,” he gasped. “It’s Marlin.” Sweat had beaded along his forehead. “You said Merlin was wrong.”

She pushed a lock of hair from his brow. “I think you may have been right after all. Merlin sound better. It suits you. Besides, you’re kind of like a wizard, aren’t you?” He nodded.

Jeremy pulled clean clothes from their pack, along with an antiseptic, clean needle, and thread. “You ready up there? This’ll hurt like hell. But we have to do it, Merlin. We have to clean this out. We can’t let infection set in. Okay? Can you do it? Come on. Count to three. Are you ready?”

Jeremy didn’t wait for him to answer. It was better, he supposed, to catch him off-guard. Before he could muster a reply, or say a number, Jeremy splashed rubbing alcohol into the wound, and in the small enclosure, Seth’s scream was piercing. Jeremy worked as fast as he could. He cleaned out the wound then inspected it closely. He couldn’t see dirt, or other foreign matter, but he feared the things he wasn’t able to see: bacteria, mold, chemicals, pollutants, the things that had cast an unnatural sheen to those polluted waters. He worried that he hadn’t been fast enough. But in these situations, only time would tell.

Pinching the two sides together, he reached a decision. He’d use tape instead of a needle, he thought, butterfly the ends together, if he could, and then watch it to see if it held. From the raw sounds coming out of Seth’s throat now, he didn’t think the boy could withstand much more.

“We’re almost done, Seth! Stay with me. We won’t stitch the wound for now, okay? We’ll try a few butterfly stitches instead.”

Sam was cradling Seth’s head to her chest, while murmuring soft sounds of encouragement. He was weeping softly, his hands tangled in her hair. It could have been worse, Jeremy realized, but this was bad. They would need to talk about this. This kind of travel was dangerous, more dangerous than either of the children realized. They were having fun with this, but forgetting the truth. This was a race for survival—Sam’s survival. They were apt to encounter many perils along the way, and some would be worse than this accident had been. As such, they would need to take this seriously. He would make them treat this process with more respect.

Jeremy was grateful for the laughs they had shared. Sam had been right. Seth was a blessing. The company of three was much better than two. And in a few short weeks, Seth had become an important part of their lives. He was, at times, a comic relief, while at others, a welcome distraction. He diverted their thoughts from Susan and the cabin, told them jokes, and asked them silly questions. But the truth of the mission still haunted Jeremy. The kids didn’t know why they had taken it on. Maybe, if he told them, they would show it due respect. Maybe it was time he finally told them the truth. He hadn’t told them yet as to not worry them. This was too big a burden for children to bear. He didn’t want Sam dwelling on her illness—not until he was certain his plan would work. He still wasn’t sure that in the end he could save her.

The thought sent shivers down his spine. His hand froze. Amid the chaos, he’d forgotten to check her meter. Peering up, his gaze fell to her belly. Her T-shirt was thin, the fabric worn to threadbare. He could just make out the faint numbers at her belly. Two Percent. He was hollow inside.

Two percent remaining and one thousand, seven hundred, seventy-seven miles yet to travel.

Two percent, and two disks remaining.