Barren Waters, A Post-Apocalyptic Tale of Survival

“The two hardest tests on the spiritual road are the patience to wait for the right moment and the courage not to be disappointed with what we encounter.”

― Paulo Coelho, Veronika Decides to Die

Chapter 17

Present Day

It had been a long, painful, unproductive week. Given his limited resources, Jeremy had nursed Seth back to health as best he could, by controlling his fever and keeping him comfortable. At times Seth would rouse and drink tiny sips of water Jeremy had laced with aspirin and antibiotics, but dehydration was always a concern. All things considered, he knew they’d been lucky. It was fortunate when Seth regained consciousness at all, even if those times were brief and sporadic. Mostly he hovered in a dreamlike state, which presented its own set of challenges. Making him eat was one such issue, but making him drink was another. And if the fear of starvation and dehydration wasn’t enough to worry about, Jeremy also worried about the medicine itself: the potency of it, their dwindling supply. What if the antibiotics weren’t effective? After all, they were decades old. What if their potency had diminished completely? There was just no way to be sure. Only time would reveal the fruits of his labor.

Potency notwithstanding, he thought, there was still one thing that frightened him more than anything else. After Seth consumed the last of these pills, Jeremy was out of medication altogether: the antibiotics, and most of the aspirin, too. His stores would be empty, and for what? Though both medicines were managing his fever, Jeremy wasn’t sure Seth was any closer to health.

He’d suffered through fever after gut-wrenching fever, which crashed over his body in aspirin-laced waves. His clothing was stiff with sweat and salt; his matted hair stuck to the sides of his face. Jeremy and Sam had done the best they could with him. They’d bathed him with pieces of cloth, soaked in warm, soapy water, but it wasn’t enough to cleanse him thoroughly. He needed a real bath, food, clean blankets. Hell, he needed a lot more than that, many more things that Jeremy couldn’t provide.

His thinness, at this point, was alarming; his body was all sharp angles, planes, and crooks. He’d been youthfully slender before, as boys were, but he was downright emaciated now. Jeremy and Sam fed him chicken soup, or broth from a can—when he was conscious enough to do so, of course, but what he needed right now was meat and starch, something with vitamins, fat, and bulk. Jeremy sighed. A balance bar and a cup of dried lentils would do little to help this situation.

But when Jeremy and Sam weren’t tending Seth, they made use of the time as best they could. They foraged and gathered any supplies they could find. The 7-Eleven proved mostly barren, but the U-Storage facility across the street bore fruit. Jeremy took a crowbar to the locks and raised the heavy doors amid the creaking protests of years of grime and rust. Once inside, he and Sam searched the units. There were no foodstuffs among the long-abandoned possessions of the dead, but there were boxes of clothing and socks and tools, even a few sharp knives.

Farther along Sorento Drive, they found a neighborhood of ranch-style homes, apartments, and a small motel harboring a forgotten cache of water bottles. A vending machine in the motel’s employee break room had yielded several packages of stale—yet edible—crackers, and though the food was welcome, Jeremy prized the water. At this point, water was his biggest concern. As long as they were stuck in this place, he decided, he’d do his best to stock up. He and Sam constructed several kinds of rain catchers. It was easy to find the supplies they needed, and Sam had enjoyed the industry of the task. They stretched pieces of plastic across the tops of old pots, placed stones in the centers to add weight. A few, they hung from the corners of buildings: bowls stacked vertically on sturdy lengths of wire, while the simpler designs, they hung from tree branches. Rain gutters ran the length of the 7-Eleven’s rooftop, and though the water ran dirty, it could be boiled, strained, and eventually made potable.

These tasks occupied much of their time, and for the most part, Jeremy had welcomed the distraction, as well as the feelings of productiveness. But a week had passed, now, and he was succumbing to fear. His mind was traveling in small tight circles. Anxiety was stealing his sleep. That familiar voice was whispering again, urging him to make difficult decisions.

He sat perfectly still, legs gathered to his chest, while Sam sat silently at his side. Rain was deepening puddles in the road, and sluicing down the windows in thin rivulets, sending worm-like smudges cascading down the glass. A pleasant earthen smell had permeated the store. If circumstances were normal, Jeremy would have considered the day pleasant—pleasant if not for his runaway thoughts. Pleasant if not for the words he wished to say, words that were increasingly difficult to bite back. He could feel them struggling at the tip of his tongue. They would leap from his mouth if he weren’t careful.

“What?” Sam asked, leaning into him. She bumped his shoulder playfully before posing the question he’d dreaded the most. “Come on. What’s up? You’ve got that crazy look again.”

“What look?”

“The one that gives you wrinkles across your forehead. You know,” she added, “if you wear that face too long, you’ll get stuck with it. Come on, Carp. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

He clenched his fists to keep them from shaking. “Sam,” he said slowly, “I’m concerned.”

“Concerned.” She glanced in Seth’s direction. She knew what he was thinking. “He hasn’t spiked a fever since late last night. It finally broke and it hasn’t come back. He’s getting better, Carp. Stop worrying.”

“He is getting better. That’s true. But he hasn’t woken up, or spoken to us yet. He hasn’t eaten anything solid.”

She turned her face toward the window, and rain. “He’s getting better, Dad, a little more each day. You said so yourself last night. Those red streaks beside his wound are almost too faint to detect anymore. You said you could barely see them at all, that his body was beating the infection.” She turned to him, her face as innocent as an angel’s. “Those were your words, were they not?”

“They were.” He hugged his knees and leaned into her. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t still have concerns. I’m not worried about the infection anymore. By the grace of God, I think he’s beaten it. I’m concerned with the time it’ll take him to get stronger. It’s been a week, now, Sam. A week! I had hoped we’d be back on the road by now. I’d even be happy with a small bit of progress. Small distances would be better than nothing. Anything’s better than sitting still. Sam,” he added quietly, “we haven’t made progress.”

“We will. You’ll see. It won’t be long now.”

He shook his head, unable to agree. “I thought so too—at first. But I’m not so sure anymore.”

“About what?” She’d suddenly gone stiff at his side.

Twisting awkwardly, he pulled the hem of her shirt above her belly. The numbers were nothing if not ominous. He pointed. “Forty-nine percent, Sam. Forty-nine percent! We’ve let this disk dwindle to forty-nine percent, and we aren’t any closer to where we need to be. I’m concerned that we’re wasting valuable time.”

She frowned. “How are we wasting valuable time? I’m alive. I’m fine. Nothing’s happened to me.”

“I know,” he answered irritably. “You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” She asked, turning to him. Her eyes were suddenly ablaze. “How would I know what you mean? How could I possibly know what you mean? You never tell me the truth—not fully. You give me little snippets or tiny breadcrumbs, but only enough so I’ll stop asking questions. What’s this invisible clock that’s panicking you? And why are we in such a hurry to get to the ocean? There’s nothing at the ocean but spoiled water and rotting beaches. You said so yourself. Why the rush? Wouldn’t it be smarter to travel a bit slower? Wouldn’t it be better if we searched the cities we’re passing through? I can’t figure out what you’re doing. But I will say this: I think you’re being stupid. We’re flying through these cities as fast as we can, without taking time to forage them. Grandpa Liam would say we were idiots. Can you imagine what he’d think about this?” She brought her hands to her face in defeat. “Maybe it seems like I’m just being stubborn, but I have no idea what you’re up to. I can’t figure out your ridiculous plan. It makes no sense to me, Dad.” She turned to him. “You say you’re not so sure anymore. What are you not sure about?”

Jeremy shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure how much to divulge. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell her, per se. He just didn’t want to get her hopes up.

Or is it something else? The little voice whispered. Maybe you don’t want to speak the words aloud. Maybe you think it’s a ridiculous plan, too.

He answered her question, though evasively. “I’m not sure we can sit here much longer, Sam. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

She stared at him, aghast. “So you’re saying we should leave Seth behind?”

“No. I’m just—”

“Stop. Just stop. I can’t take this anymore.” Standing awkwardly, she peered down her nose at him. “I won’t let you do this. Not again. You did this to Peter. I know what you did. You don’t think I do, but I do.”

“Sam,” he said gently, “We couldn’t stay there. We were running out of disks. Meghan and I searched that entire area, but all we could find were insulin pills—and crappy insulin pills at that. We never found a single disk. It was time to move on—beyond time, in fact. I was an idiot for staying as long as I did. Maybe if I’d forced us to move along sooner, we’d be in a better situation right now.”

“But we left him there. We just left him there. We slunk off in the middle of the night like cowards, and left Peter and Meghan to die.”

“To die?”

“I know what you did,” she spat angrily.

“Oh really?” He felt his anger rise. “I hatched a plan to keep you alive. That’s what I did. That’s what I always do. What would have happened if we stayed? Do you ever take the time to think about that? Use your head, Sam. What would have happened? What would have happened to two diabetic kids living under the same roof? What would have happened to two parents fighting for the same medications in a world with a limited supply? Don’t you see how stupid that was? Can’t you imagine how things would have ended? It was madness, Sam! It wouldn’t have worked. Meghan and I would have eventually killed each other. We would have fought one another to save our children’s lives.”

“I didn’t say leaving was a bad decision. I’m just saying that you didn’t have to do what you did. Peter is probably dead because of you. We could have just left, but we left as thieves!” He offered no response so she continued brazenly. “I won’t let you do it again. Not to Seth. Look around, Dad. Here we are again. Same situation, different boy. Can’t you see?”

“It’s not the same situation, Sam, and you know it. You don’t understand.”

“But I do understand. And it is the same.” Crouching in front of him, she caught his wandering gaze. “Dad, I don’t want to live at the expense of other people. I know you’re scared. I know you love me. But we still have one disk, right? Give Seth a chance. Let’s wait this out.” Straightening, she crossed her arms, in that way that reminded him so much of Susan. “Or don’t give him a chance, and leave us both behind. It’s your decision, Dad. Do what you want. But me? I’m not leaving him.”

“Sam, you’re being unreasonable. What if Seth dies? Have you thought about that? What if we sit here for the next two weeks, and in the end, he dies anyway, despite our efforts? Are we supposed to just sit here and watch your meter wind down to zero? What if we do and he dies anyway?”

“So the level of risk isn’t acceptable to you. That’s what you’re trying to say, isn’t it? You’re weighing his life against mine.”

“Of course I am!”

“You’re saying his life means so little to you that you won’t even give him a chance?”

“A chance?” Jeremy pressed his palms to his eyes. “What the hell do you think I’ve been doing? Sam, you’re missing my point. It’s not that Seth’s life means little to me. It’s that your life means so much.” He took a breath. “I care about Seth, but you’re everything to me. If Seth dies and you…”

His mouth snapped closed. He couldn’t finish the sentence. It was a vision of the future he just couldn’t face.

“Die,” she finished brazenly. “That’s what you were going to say. If Seth dies and I die, then what?”

Jeremy blew out an exasperated breath. “Don’t you see? If I lose both of you, all of this waiting would have been for nothing. Sam, understand: sometimes in life, adults are forced to make difficult decisions, to weigh the consequences, both good and bad, and decide on the best course of action. And sometimes,” he added, “there’s no right answer. One choice is as bad as the next. But right or wrong, one makes a decision. Right or wrong, one chooses a path. It’s something we all have to do.” He pushed himself up, and despite her efforts to pull away from him, clasped her hands, held them tightly in his own. “Sam, one day I won’t be here. One day, you’ll be on your own. You’ll be the adult making the tough decisions, and right or wrong, you’ll have to make them. It’s what being an adult is all about.”

“Perhaps. But isn’t it also about doing what’s right? About being kind and compassionate to others?”

He smiled at her. He couldn’t help himself. “You’re going to be a much better adult than I could ever be, though I guess, in your eyes, that won’t be difficult.” Releasing her hands, he let loose a sigh. “I’m just doing my best. That’s all I can do. I never said my decisions were right, or good. I never even said they were sane. They’re just decisions, plain and simple. They are what they are. They’re made by a man who’s afraid of losing his daughter.” He peered at Seth, lying prone on the floor, while indecision clawed at his belly. Seth’s breathing was deeper than it had been before, and in the past few days, his cheeks had gained a healthier hue. He was definitely improving. Sam was right. Turning to face her, he sighed resignedly. “Okay. You win. We’ll give him a few more days. We’ll wait this out and see how it goes.”

“Okay,” she said carefully, her chin firm. “But I want you to understand something. I won’t be the kind of adult who does bad things to other people. I can’t do that. I can’t live with myself.” Reaching up, she touched his cheek. “I appreciate the sacrifices you’ve made for me, but over the next few days, I think you should spend some time alone. Consider some of the things you’ve done.” Breaking their contact, she detached the teddy bear keychain from her belt, and turning back to him, pushed it into his palm. “I think you should spend some time thinking about Peter. That’s all I’m saying. I’ll leave it alone.” She moved away from him, quiet as smoke, then stopped, turned back, and took his breath away. “We could have just left him, Dad. You didn’t have to kill him.”

Jeremy’s throat closed as he reached for the memories. “I didn’t…” he murmured, but his reply was lost.

Despite his many protests, he couldn’t say she was wrong.