Barren Waters, A Post-Apocalyptic Tale of Survival

Part 5

I cannot tarry longer.

The sea that calls all things unto her calls me.

―Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

Chapter 20

Present Day

Sam’s rear tire was the first to run flat. Jeremy crouched low, inspecting it with a frown. There must be a pinhole leak, he surmised, a small rupture that had been leaking for miles.

She’d awakened earlier that morning, hands trembling, as she gently roused Jeremy from a deep and dreamless sleep. She’d pointed to her belly, her eyes haunted.

“Zero percent,” she’d whispered softly. “We’re down to the last one.”

He’d wordlessly fished the last disk from his pocket, his dread so profound it nearly threatened to overwhelm him. He’d injected the thin tube and pressed down the plunger, while trying to keep his hands steady. “Thirty days,” he’d muttered, like she didn’t know that.

She hadn’t replied, but had turned toward Seth, appraising him with a discerning eye. “He slept through the night,” she said. “Finally. And he didn’t wake up with sweaty clothes this time. I think it’s a win. I think he’s doing better. I think he’s finally beaten the infection.”

“Yep. Seems so. That’s good,” Jeremy said, as he fished a container from deep inside his pack. “Why don’t you take this outside, by the fire. Heat up a kettle, make some oats for us to eat.”

She’d scrunched her nose at the suggestion. “Oats again? They’re gross, Carp. They taste like cardboard, especially since we used up all the Splenda.”

“True. But it’s the best I can do.” He thrust his chin in Seth’s direction. “And it’s what he needs to put weight on his bones. We need to make sure he eats five times a day, at least, until he regains a bit of strength.”

She’d acknowledged the request and gone outside, toward the collection of wood they’d piled high the night before. He waited for her to crouch down beside it, pull out her lighter and ignite a small flame before edging closer to Seth. He wanted to perform a closer inspection, but wanted to do so in private. Seth’s neck, he noticed, was cool and dry, as were the collar and underarms of his shirt. Sam was right. He was healing. It was a positive sign. He wasn’t drenched in sweat like he’d been the nights before, which was a vast improvement—to put it lightly. For the first week, the infection had raged, and though he’d been fever-free for close to seven days now, his body still worked to expel the toxins. Several times a night he’d awakened, hair plastered to his scalp, wet clothes clinging to his body. Shivering and stumbling like a newly dropped fawn, he’d peel of the clothes and leave a soggy pile by the door.

He was eating again, too, and robustly. His cheeks had regained a healthy pink hue. And though he still slept both day and night, his breathing had evened and deepened. But the wound was what interested Jeremy the most. The fear of relapse was a constant concern. With bated breath, he examined its edges. The laceration was now covered with a thick black scar, and the surrounding flesh was flat and smooth, and finally cool to the touch. Much better.

Satisfied, Jeremy rolled to his heels and settled himself on the ground. While staring at Seth, he let his mind wander. His fingers drummed a stead beat on the floor as he considered where they were versus where they needed to be. A significant amount of time had been lost, but Jeremy refused to think about that. They’d been lucky. Things could have gone differently, and worse, and though he’d been careful to appear competent in front of Sam, he really hadn’t known what to do about Seth. He’d only done what seemed right at the time, applied the kinds of treatments that made the most sense. It was a miracle Seth had healed at all, given the poor circumstances and lack of resources at hand. It was the medicines that had done it, Jeremy mused, not his efforts.

Medicines that are now all gone, he thought, frowning.

He reached out to tousle Seth’s hair. Once Seth had awakened, things quickly got better. Jeremy had missed his goofy smile and silly questions, and was reminded—once more—of the importance of family. Thankfully Jeremy had listened to Sam when she convinced him to give Seth time to heal, though his gut still clenched when he considered their predicament. Two weeks had been lost to them, and though Jeremy had watched Seth slowly improve, he’d clawed at the walls like a wild caged beast. Two ridiculous and excruciation weeks; he would panic anew if he allowed himself to ponder it. Though they’d seen the worst and come out the other side, they were unfortunately left to manage the consequences. But it was done and behind them. No use worrying about it now. For once, Jeremy was proud of himself. He’d shut his mouth, and let Sam lead, and he was fairly certain she was grateful for that. He may have even earned a few brownie points.

Though the fever had drained Seth to the point of exhaustion, once his temperature normalized, his strength returned rather quickly. He began to eat solid food again, take short walks, drink copious amounts of rainwater. And once he’d cultivated the taste for food, his appetite became insatiable. So much so that Jeremy worried about their supplies. Mealtimes had also become debriefings. They were times of intense interrogation and discovery. Seth wanted to know everything. He had no recollection of the time he’d been ill, how’d he’d gotten to the 7 Eleven, or how much time had passed. Space and time were entirely lost to him. He’d query Jeremy and Sam for hours, with a nervousness that set Jeremy’s teeth on edge. When he was ill, as he’d explained, a week felt like a day, and when Jeremy told him how much time had passed, it was as if he’d suffered a punch to the gut. With eyes ablaze, he’d pushed himself to his feet, swayed, and turned in small circles. It was as if he were seeing the convenience store for the first time.

“That’s not possible,” he’d argued fervently. “Two weeks just isn’t possible. It’s really been two weeks?” He’d held his hands in front of his face then examined the sagging waistband of his pants. “I’m thin,” he stammered. “I mean, really thin.”

“You’ve always been really thin,” Sam had tried to joke. “But now, to me, you’re just scrawny. You’re the size of a tiny toothpick.”

His eyes had gone wider at the sound of her voice, darted to her face, and then dropped to her belly. Tottering to her side, he’d fallen to his knees, lifted the corner of her shirt and gasped aloud. “Twenty-four,” he’d stammered, as though he would cry. “You’re down to twenty-four percent.” He was a deer in headlights as he turned to Jeremy.

“It’s okay,” Jeremy lied. “She’ll be fine. Let’s focus on you right now. Let’s get you better and get back on the road. That’s the best way to help Sam now.”

“But how much farther do we have to go?”

“You let me worry about that.”

He’d shaken his head. “But how many miles?” he’d insisted, his face stricken.

“Stop,” Jeremy said. “We’ll make it just fine. Right now, we need you to relax and get better. The quicker you get better, the quicker we’ll make up the time. We’ll push ourselves harder, if you want to do that. We’ll cover more ground to make up the difference. Can you push yourself harder for Sam?”

He’d nodded, though Jeremy had still seen guilt in his eyes. “Yeah. Okay. We’ll push ourselves harder.”

And push himself harder he did. Guilt seemed to bring Seth’s goals into laser focus, because regaining his strength became his fulltime job. He ate dutifully, and often. He stretched his muscles and took long walks, kept the rain catchers empty and the pots and pans clean. He tended the water purification at sunrise, double straining it, and boiling the contents.

“Wait till it cools,” he’d chastised Jeremy. “You can’t pour hot water into plastic containers. The chemicals get into the water. It causes cancer.”

Jeremy had suppressed a smile but played along. “Thanks for the tip. Where’d you learn that?”

“Everybody in the world knows that.”

Proving himself was important to Seth, demonstrating his worth and resilience. Perhaps it was the benefits of youth, Jeremy thought, or Seth’s deep affection for Sam. But in a few short days, they were back on the road, and from there, central Texas came and went in a blur. He’d pushed them—harder than he probably should have, but there was considerable ground to cover.

And time, unfortunately was always ticking.

Though they stopped more frequently than Jeremy would have liked, they soon regained their former rhythm. Seth would pedal, red-faced, cheeks puffing, his eyes fixed on the road. He attacked the miles aggressively, as if punishing himself for a personal failure. Jeremy was the one who forced them to rest, despite Seth’s whines and protests. The last thing he wanted to do was to wear Seth out, or stress his body past the point of repair. He needed his strength right now. They all did. Now more than ever before. For the path, of late, had become treacherous and challenging. The eastern half of the United States sat lower than the western half. The gentle gradient was sly at first, so gradual, in fact, that they barely noticed it. But once they did, it was all they could think about. The effort required to travel the same fifty miles was noticeably greater than it had been in the east, evident in their unquenchable thirst, their sweaty clothes, and the constant burning in their thighs.

And it will only get harder from here, Jeremy thought. New Mexico and Arizona will be higher still. The oxygen will be thin. The temperature will increase. It will take all we’ve got to see it through.

But despite their setbacks, they’d made excellent progress, and Jeremy was starting to feel human again. Until now, he thought grimly, as he stared at the tire. They were fifteen miles outside Odessa, Texas, and Sam’s rear tire had gone flat. She’d swerved, dangerously, and then yelped through a skid, pulling her bike to an ungraceful stop.

“Shit,” Jeremy swore aloud. He was such a damn fool. He should have foreseen this. Of all the foolish things he’d ever done in his life, this had to be among the top two or three. How could he have been so careless? How could he have forgotten something as important as this? His thoughts returned to that U.T. supply closet, with its rows of gleaming bikes, over a thousand miles away. He could punch himself for being so stupid. If only his father could see him right now. Oh yeah, he sneered inwardly, how impressive you are. Piss poor planning at it’s finest. Great work.

“You said a bad word,” Seth muttered absently, his eyes fixed on the flattened piece of rubber.

“Dad?” Sam asked, her voice quiet and small. “What do we do? How will we go on?”

Jeremy’s mind raced as he met her gaze. She’d been quiet since early that morning, he’d noticed, withdrawn and introspective since he’d inserted the last disk. Reality must weigh heavy on her now. He could see its effects in her posture and bearing. Her head hung lower. Her brow was stitched with concern.

In an attempt to downplay the seriousness of the situation, he rolled his shoulders dispassionately. “We find a tire shop. It’s as simple as that. A new inner tube would suffice. Or a whole new tire, if we can find a bike store. It’s really no biggie. We can figure it out.” He forced a smile that he didn’t really feel. “We’ll figure it out, Pike. Don’t get stressed out. In fact, when we find the right kind of store, we’ll take advantage and stock up. We’ll grab several tires—one for each bike.”

He’d never been good at selling false optimism. The edge in his voice always gave him away.

“Yeah,” Seth added, sensing Jeremy’s desperation. “We’ll each get one, and wear it on a string. We’ll wear them on our backs like sombrero hats.” Turning in a half circle, he peered at a sign in the distance. “But it’s sixteen miles to Odessa. Is that a town?”

“Sixteen miles?” Jeremy asked.

“Yeah. Sounds really far.”

“Nah. Sixteen miles is nothing.”

“Nothing? But Dad, sixteen miles? How will we get the bikes there? Are you saying we have to push them?” She sneered at her bike like it had disappointed her. “How will we push this thing sixteen miles on a piece of flat rubber? Can’t we do better than that?”

She made a good point. That would take too long. There had to be a more efficient way to cross the distance. He could ride to Odessa himself, he considered, leave the kids here and return with a tire. But what if it took too long to find a store? Or what if one of his tires went flat? They’d put miles and miles on these tires already; having not had a flat was just pure dumb luck. They should have lost several by now, statistically speaking. Biting his lip, he glanced at the sun, which was low and heavy in the western sky. None of these ideas were worth the risk to him. He couldn’t leave the children alone on this road, not without knowing for sure when he’d return. The sun was setting, and though Odessa was only sixteen miles away, he didn’t know where to go once he arrived. He’d need to find a bike shop, a sports store, or a Walmart—and one that wasn’t pillaged, at that. The whole thing could take hours, or longer, even days.

Taking a breath to steady himself, he contemplated the situation anew. Okay. He could figure this out. It wasn’t difficult. They would stay together, as a team, get the bikes as far as Odessa city limits, stash them, find a map, and then begin a thorough search. Each moment was precious to him. To Sam’s point, efficiency was key. He chewed the inside of his cheek. “Let’s remove the tire and assess the damage to the rim.”

Sam backed away as he flipped the bike over. Balancing it on its handlebars, he removed the tire by releasing the clamps. The rubber held tight to the rim. Jeremy broke a sweat as he wrestled it off, revealing a deflated tube inside the tread. Removing it disdainfully, he stood to appraise the damage. The tube was limp, like an eel in his hands. And though it had worn thin, it wasn’t completely destroyed. Only a pinhole leak existed on one side.

“Got a hair tie?” he asked Sam quietly. There had to be a way to get the bike to Odessa, for she surely couldn’t ride on the rim. Pulling the elastic from her ponytail, she passed it to him, and with the blade of his pocketknife, he sliced it in half before looping the ends around the ruptured tube and tying them together in a secure double knot. Widening the pinhole with the tip of his knife, he inflated the tube and frowned at the taste. With the elastic tied to one end of the tube, the other end trapped air well enough. Could it hold for sixteen miles? he wondered. Setting the tire down, he glanced at their surroundings. If half of the tube could hold air well enough, all he had to do was fill the remaining half. But with what kind of material? What would suffice?

Stalled cars ran the length of the freeway on both sides. Could he find something useful inside one of them? Some kind of filler or packing?

“What are you thinking?” Seth asked him cautiously.

Jeremy set his hands to his hips. “Half of the tube is inflated, but we can’t leave the other half flat against the rim. We can’t afford to damage the rim or we’ll ruin the bike permanently. But we have to get the bikes to town somehow, so we have to find something with which to pack the rim. It should be something soft, smushy, cushiony, something that yields against pressure. It should be something we can easily stuff inside the rim.”

Seth didn’t skip a beat, but turned toward the edge of the road. “What about grass and leaves?” He pointed. “Or mushy roots? Something like that?”

Jeremy arched a brow. “Okay. Not bad, kid. Let’s give it a try.” He followed Seth to the shoulder of the road. “But there isn’t much grass along a major interstate, and we’ve reached the edge of the desert.”

“Okay. But what about weeds?” Seth crouched at Jeremy’s feet. “There are plenty of weeds out here. Look at these.”

Jeremy shrugged. It was as good a plan as any he had heard, so together, they pulled fountain grass by the roots. There were tufts of low scrub brush beneath a corroded sign, and piles of dried leaves, surrounding old vehicles. Sam found a yellow flower and pushed it behind her ear, and when she smiled, Jeremy smiled back. He was grateful for the small pleasures life saw fit to deliver these days, for the beauty of her smile, for Seth’s inquisitiveness. The three of them were a strong support system, and Jeremy was once again thankful for Seth. Waiting for him had been the right thing to do. It was as if, by waiting, Jeremy had regained a part of himself he’d thought lost, like the universe was offering reciprocity. Some might call it karma, he mused, or an exchange of goodwill for doing something right. Whatever it was, it felt healing, and good. Despite their dire circumstances, they had—and always would have—each other. Jeremy felt a lump in his throat. In this moment, Susan would be proud of him, of his commitment to their daughter, but also to Seth. Jeremy peered at Sam through blurred tears. He would never let her die—not while he lived. He’d do anything to ensure her safety, and he was certain, now, that Seth would, as well. Come hell or high water, they would make it to San Diego—even if they had to walk the remaining miles on foot.

Seth made a basket of the shirt he was wearing, in which he collected the greenery and roots, which Jeremy used to pack the deflated portion of the tube. Pulling the tread over the rim was difficult, but the finished product seemed sturdy enough. He pushed and pinched and squeezed at the rubber. Not bad, he thought. Not bad at all, particularly for a nine-year old boy. Righting the bike, he sat gently on the seat, and leaned his full weight on the tire. He bounced and pedaled, traveled slowly down the road. The going would be tough, not smooth. Their solution was decent, but not exactly stable. It was hard to maneuver, even harder to steer, but it was manageable. Jeremy thought it would hold.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll take this one, guys. Sam, you take mine. Seth, grab yours.”

“No,” Seth said, shaking his head in disagreement. “I’m the lightest. You said I was scrawny, remember?” He kicked the tire and shouldered his pack. “I’ll take this one. It has to be me.”

Jeremy couldn’t find fault with his logic. “Okay. Let’s go, but we’re taking it slow. Let’s try to be smart about this. You take the lead, Merlin. I’ll watch from behind. And if you feel like something’s breaking, jump off. Don’t push it. I’ll take anything we can get out of this. Four or five miles is better than none, and anything is better and faster than walking.”

Seth nodded determinately, and wordlessly swung his leg over the seat. Before long, his face was streaming with sweat, but he never voiced a complaint. Not once. Their pace was excruciating; the setting sun boiled. But Jeremy considered each mile a small victory.

When they finally reached Odessa city limits, they hid the bikes, and then poked around the town. A burnt-out convenience store yielded brochures of apartment rentals and local maps, which listed shopping centers in the immediate area. Seth wanted to visit the Walmart, of course, for he harbored an emotional soft spot for the place. And if it yielded nothing useful, Jeremy figured, the mall was only a short distance away.

Seth chattered away as they walked, talking of gardens and trees, and the various kinds of plants they would cultivate in San Diego. He spoke of the type of home they’d choose for themselves. “If you think about it,” he said, “we could choose anything! A house so huge we could each have a wing! I hope it overlooks the ocean,” he added wistfully. “And if it does, we could find an old pair of binoculars. We could watch the waves from our house on the hill, look out for dolphins or whales or something.” Catching Sam’s reproachful gaze, he quickly corrected himself. “I’m just saying, one day there could be dolphins, and if there are, we’ll be the first to see them. Maybe we could supervise the sea, like it’s a job, and tell everyone when it comes back to life.”

Jeremy hated to disappoint him. “That’s a lovely dream, Seth, but it won’t come true. Not in our lifetimes, at least.”

“But why?”

“Pessimist alert,” Sam muttered beneath her breath.

“Are you saying the oceans will be dead forever? Forever’s a long time, Carp,” Seth said.

“It’s hard to say, Merlin. No one really knows. But when the oceans die, everything dies, and it takes a long time to recover. This happened once before, millions and millions of years ago. Scientists called it The Permian Extinction, while others refered to it as The Great Dying.” Jeremy mopped his sweaty head with his sleeve. “And if this extinction is similar, recovery will take millions of years.”

“Millions?” Seth was aghast as he chewed on that. “So you’re saying everything is dead? How do you know? How can you be sure? If the ocean’s as big as you say it is, how can everything be dead? Couldn’t something be alive out there?”

“I suppose.” They’d reached the entrance to the Walmart Superstore. “I suppose something could be alive, Merlin. My dad once said life always finds a way. It’s possible that some species made a go of things, like a small kind of snail, or squid.”

“Or jellyfish,” Sam added with a frown.

“Or jellyfish. Amazing things happen after extinction level events. Other species emerge from the wreckage and thrive in the new environment. Creatures we couldn’t imagine in our wildest dreams could emerge and make the new earth their home.”

“But what will happen to us?” Seth asked, as he snatched a handful of oats from his pack.

“Humans might not make it this time. After The Permian Extinction destroyed almost all wildlife, crabs, lobsters, and small ground rodents evolved into larger species of reptiles, which eventually evolved into dinosaurs.”

Seth’s eyes danced at the images. “So you think there’s gonna be dinosaurs?”

“Maybe. Who knows? No one can say for sure. But whatever emerges, it will take a long time. You won’t be around to see what comes next.”

Jeremy smiled as he nudged open the rusted double doors. Simple conversations were nice. Normal. It was pleasant to be peppered with questions like these, with things that didn’t pertain to medicine or mortality. Seth was very special boy. Jeremy watched him step aside and hold the door for Sam, his movements echoing hers as he watched her. He was deeply committed to seeing this through. He’d shown grit and fortitude, loyalty, and allegiance. He would do anything for her survival, despite the cost.

As they entered the store, Jeremy let his mind wander. How deep was Seth’s commitment to Sam? How much would he sacrifice? How far would he go? Would his sacrifices rival Susan’s? Would they match the sacrifices his father had made? Commitment that complete and selfless was rare, for no one had sacrificed the things Liam had. And apart from Jeremy, no one likely ever would.