Chapter 13
The next few miles pass slowly. Warm country air and the smell of knee-high corn growing in neat rows fill my lungs.
Occasionally, we see a carrier wandering along the highway or out in the fields, but we easily leave them behind.
I can’t help but think of what could have happened if we had been walking along this highway instead.
“What’s the word, girls?”
“Lucia saw signs for a campground up ahead. What do you think? Could be a good place to stop for the night,” I say.
We all agree, and Nurse Patrick pulls off the highway, following the camping signs. We loop through poorly paved roads, bouncing in the back of the truck, keeping our eyes peeled for both carriers and people. Soon, we come to an abandoned camping site.
The lot has space for tents and RVs, each with its own fire pit, all centered around an old, leaning outdoor bathroom structure. The lot is nearly empty, save for a few discarded tent pieces, empty coolers, and deep tire tracks, like someone sped away as fast as they could.
We pull into the clearing, turn off the engine, and climb out of the truck, stretching our sore muscles. I hear birds singing and mosquitoes buzzing. The summer air feels hot and thick as the last few minutes of sun hang in the sky.
We didn’t get tents at the sporting goods store, but now I’m wishing we had. At the time, we decided they were too bulky to carry and too weak to protect us, but anything seems better than the thought of sleeping out in the open.
Something beeps softly behind me. “Time for meds,” Nurse Patrick says, pressing a small button on the side of his watch.
While the other girls line up, Keisha and I walk over to the bathroom structure to see what we’re working with.
I notice the first problem immediately. The structure has no doors.
It’s just one long, open hallway split in the middle by a thin plywood wall that delineates the women’s side at one end from the men’s at the other.
Each side has three shower stalls and two toilets.
I check the faucet and find that the water is still running through the pipes.
I wait for the hot water to kick in, but it never does. Damn.
The structure isn’t clean by any means, but it doesn’t smell as awful as I had expected.
Spiders make their webs in the rafters above us, catching mayflies and tiny gnats, and frogs chirp from somewhere above.
The concrete floor doesn’t look very inviting, but it seems like we could fit six sleeping bags if we stay close together.
I sigh. “Home sweet home?”
Keisha guffaws. “Hardly!”
“We can make it work,” I say, jogging back to the truck for my pack.
Nurse Patrick is carefully placing the cap on the last bottle of medication and tucking it into his pocket when I rejoin the group.
“We can stay in the bathroom structure over there. The water is still running, but it’s not hot. One big problem, though,” I say with a sigh.
“Well, let’s have it,” he says, waiting for the bad news.
“There’s no door on the building.”
“Is that all? I can fix that!” he says with a smile.
We all gather inside the bathroom while Nurse Patrick backs the truck up so the tailgate nearly butts up against the open corridor. I instantly feel safer. Once again, I’m glad to have him around. He jumps into the back of the truck and climbs inside with us.
“Safe and sound!” he says, grinning.
After we each get our brand-new sleeping bags unrolled, Keisha passes around the food we collected. We eat a dinner of candy bars and potato chips. After not eating all day, it doesn’t seem so bad. After dinner, Nurse Patrick insists we each brush our teeth before going to bed.
“Trust me. You don’t want a cavity in a world without dentists,” he says.
His comment gets me thinking about just how different the world is already.
It’s only been five days since Ms. Michelle was bitten, and everything has changed.
Is there anyone left to fix this? Is the government sending the National Guard to fight off the carriers?
Are there still safe places? I wonder if I’ll ever know for sure.
Exhausted and full of sugar, we climb into our sleeping bags on the concrete floor and try to sleep.