25. Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
Shelby
My chest pulses uncomfortably every time I turn back and meet Jason’s red rimmed eyes. I don’t know how long he’s known her but, in these circumstances, a few days can seem like a lifetime when you’re trying to survive together.
How many more will die in the coming days, months, years . . .? It’s futile to entertain such thoughts and I slow to allow Jason to catch up before touching his arm.
When he looks down, I whisper, “I’m sorry.”
His lips form a tiny smile which fades under the weight of what we just escaped, and I take comfort in the fact that the remaining members of our group are waiting, including Cason with Bo beside him.
I don’t understand why his arms are crossed behind his bowed head, but it can’t be related to the people I’ve already come to care about, and I set it aside as just another facet of his moodiness.
“Hey,” I croak, meeting Cason’s gaze when he whips around, dropping his hands.
His searching eyes flicker with an emotion I can’t define and my chest clenches when they narrow before moving to Jason and beyond, no doubt understanding the loss without having to put it into words.
Jason’s defeated posture says it all, but I pause at the sudden tension, especially when Cason turns to the truck and pounds his fist against the metal before raising his face to the sky.
Does he regret the loss? Feel guilty perhaps?
It’s not his fault and my impulse is to soothe the beast writhing below his skin but that’s not my job and he wouldn’t be receptive anyway. Instead, I clear my throat and say, “Ready?”
Now thoroughly subdued, the group agrees, and I jump into the back before finding a reasonably comfortable spot against the cab between several bags of groceries that provide a bit of a barrier to the wind.
No one comments when Jason slides behind the wheel and Nora follows with Bean and Zoey sitting in between.
That leaves me, Amanda, Nate, Larry, Lance and Cason in the back with Bo. It’s not an easy fit with all these groceries and I push back a thread of guilt at the realization that we may have had to leave some of it behind to accommodate one more person.
Thankfully the rain has subsided but it’s still cold and my bones ache as I rest my head against the slick metal and eye the angry clouds portending another deluge in the near future.
“Want one?” Nate asks, holding out a bottle of water.
“Thanks,” I rasp, swallowing a few gulps before placing it between my legs.
Although the freeway would be the easiest route, after encountering the roadblock before, Jason follows it south instead. From this side it’s mostly stretches of land like a patchwork quilt of colors, from deep green to wheat yellow.
Interspersed with abandoned cars and homes, I close my eyes as we pass a baseball field, hoping to erase the images emblazoned on my brain.
What used to be tiny humans roam the field with the unsteady gait of them.
Thankfully we’re not close enough to make out individual expressions but my imagination fills in the blanks anyway.
Welcoming the distraction, I turn to Larry when his leg brushes mine. He’s sitting at the end of the truck against the tailgate, and I tip my head when he asks, “Where you from, Shelby?”
“Uh, w-what?” I stutter, summoning an uneasy smile. With a shrug, he glances at Cason sitting beside him but as usual, Cason’s prickly demeanor screams back the fuck off.
“With, well,” Larry sighs and scratches his head. “If I die, who’s gonna remember me, ya know?”
“We will,” I whisper, and he laughs.
“I know, sweetie pie, but what will you remember?”
When he winks, I search for the right words but come up empty and say, “You were there at the end of the world. Trust me, you’d be remembered.”
I trail off at that because I’m no motivational speaker. Besides, I sense Cason’s unease, and I don’t want to create further strain between us.
“Lame,” Larry teases before his smile fades. “That’s the thing,” he says. “I want someone to remember. So, I’ll start.”
He tips his head and closes his eyes before saying, “I grew up dirt poor. My daddy couldn’t rub two nickels together.
When I finally turned sixteen, I ran away, hit the streets and never looked back.
” He seems to get lost in a memory before he chuckles and says, “Met my wife when I was fresh outta boot camp. She was an angel, my Susie. We had four babies but only one survived.”
Dropping his head, he wipes a hand down his face before saying, “She was the love of my life and someday I’m gonna see her face again, up there in heaven with the angels.”
It’s a strange thing to see such love from one human being to another when all I knew with Ben was sheer terror.
The burn filling my chest is born of both admiration and envy because I may never have the chance to create that connection and frankly, I’m jealous that he harbored such a love that it lives on even in death.
At the knowledge, I swallow and look away, avoiding the stares of my companions as Larry asks, “What about you?”
I don’t want to follow that testament because my lies will only fuel the anger boiling beneath my skin and the truth will reveal my weakness. I can’t win either way.
“Nobody wants to talk about before, old man,” Cason rasps and although he aimed for a teasing tone, it’s decidedly less friendly in its delivery. Either way, I’m grateful but when I meet Cason’s eyes, a wasteland of pain is my discovery.
Cason
The remainder of the ride is silent. Thankfully we’re able to get on the freeway and pass Salem and the Four Corners before being forced back onto side roads in Rosedale.
Hoping to avoid leaving the vehicle, we twist and turn through streets before ending up beside the Willamette river.
In the drizzling rain, the darkened depths seem even more treacherous than normal. It's the coward's way out but when we stop to eat, I take the wheel. I don’t want to sit in the back and continue to recycle the same fucking thoughts.
At least up here I have to focus on the road and that’s exactly what I do with a single-minded intensity that prohibits the occupants of the cab from speaking.
Near Albany, we pass the now defunct paper mill, the metal giant, a specter of the past that feels even farther away now. South of there, we pull into a station to fuel up and as I assess how much farther we have to go, my frustration mounts.
What should have been a few hours’ drive max has now stretched into days and the longer it takes the more my mood sours. I’d be there by now if I were on my own, which only creates another rush of anxiety beneath my skin.
Thankfully we refuel without issue, but I wonder how long it will be before places like this are no longer available. Eventually the power will be out everywhere, and backup generators will run out of fuel, unless they’re solar powered.
Our luck runs out back on the road and rather than face off against another horde blocking the frontage road south, we’re forced to backtrack under the freeway before finding a highway leading to Lebanon.
Sensing my mood no doubt, Nora is quiet beside me, and I glance down to find Zoey asleep in between us, her finger, of course in her mouth.
Losing Elaine is just another reminder of how tenuous this journey is, and I can’t help but consider the possibility I will lose someone that wasn’t a fringe member of the group. What if it had been Zoey?
Despite the short amount of time, we’ve begun to grow bonds that I’m not sure I want to fertilize. I have to find my family and the longer this takes the more I wonder if I’m not better going solo.
Traveling like this may not be the answer for Zoey or Amanda. It’s been five fucking days, and we’ve lost two people already. The odds are not in our favor but what else can we do. The only other choice is fucking death.
But what about my family? They might need me while I’m putting all my effort into people I barely know and more than likely won’t survive.
These are the self-defeating thoughts I was trying to avoid and pushing them away, I focus on the lush fields surrounding us, clearly more agricultural land, with grass dotting the landscape in between orchards growing pears, apples and plums.
What we once took for granted is now our future, but does anyone remain to continue the process? As if the universe heard my thoughts, I slow down when I spy a woman standing in a pasture amongst several cows.
Larry meets my gaze from the rearview mirror with a furrowed brow but it’s Shelby, studying the woman with wide eyes while she nibbles her lip that makes my decision for me.
Once again, we’re wasting time but it’s going to be dark soon anyway, or so I tell myself.
After turning down the lane adjacent to the field, I follow the dirt road to the home at the end. The woman stalks through the grass and I survey the area while she approaches.
The home painted a buttery yellow with white shutters appears well maintained. There’s a large barn, no doubt meant for horses or other livestock set back from the house beside which, I see a small garden. Farming equipment dots the gravel past the barn with a fence enclosing the property within.
As soon as we pull to a stop, leaving a cloud of dust in our wake, the woman waves her hand before stopping beside the bed of the truck.
“Thank heavens you’re here,” she says, wringing her hands together. The bones pop and crackle as she continues, “Harry took a fall, and I can’t run this place myself. Not with these old bones.”
“Oh . . . uh,” Nora says through the open window, her mouth flopping like a fish. Equally confused, I shake my head as Zoey peeks around Nora’s shoulder and the woman’s eyes widen.
When she claps her hands, Zoey drops her head, a faint flush rising on her cheeks as the woman says, “Look at you. What a little princess but where are my manners? I’m Lottie. Welcome. Welcome.”
She claps her hands again as we pile from the vehicle and once, we’re all unloaded, Lottie waves eagerly at the house.