Barren Waters, A Post-Apocalyptic Tale of Survival
Chapter 12

The winds, the sea, and the moving tides are what they are. If there is wonder and beauty and majesty in them, science will discover these qualities... If there is poetry in my book about the sea, it is not because I deliberately put it there, but because no one could write truthfully about the sea and leave out the poetry.

—Rachel Carson

Chapter 12

Present Day

“How are the lentils?”

“How are they supposed to be?” Sam replied. “Icky. They taste like cardboard.”

“How do you know what cardboard tastes like?”

She was sprawled on her stomach, her bowl of food centered on of the map in front of her. “We’ve done well,” she commented, as she drew the purple line that marked their progression westward. “About 140 miles in only three days. We’re halfway across Arkansas already.” She peered at Seth and raised a mocking brow. “Not bad for a klutz.”

“I’m not a klutz!” he objected. “I just fell. It was hard to walk by the water. It was sticky and wet. And you should thank me, by the way.”

“Thanking you?”

“Don’t worry, big guy,” Jeremy said. “She thanks you. But speaking of that incredibly graceful act, it’s time to change your bandages.”

Pushing himself to his feet, Jeremy moved to his backpack and rummaged the contents. He had to admit: he was proud of Seth. Over the past few days, the boy had shown pluck, not to mention bottomless resilience and determination. Despite his injury, which was nothing to take lightly, he had insisted they burn through the miles. He’d acclimated well to the physical demands that were being placed on him daily, to the acidic soreness of overworked muscles, to the weariness that resulted when strenuous activity was performed at lower than optimum oxygen levels, and to the ever-present heat that saturated the air. It was a mist that draped their backs like woolen cloaks. Jeremy tended Seth as best he could. He massaged his muscles, stretched his hamstrings, gave him extra rations of food. He’d even parted with a few precious Advil, though he feared, at this point, they were ineffective. They were over fifteen years old, and though they wouldn’t harm him, they wouldn’t help him much, either.

Lifting the first aid kit from his pack, he settled himself next to Seth. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

“It hurts,” Seth answered, “but I’m tough. I can handle it.” He hissed as Jeremy rolled back his pant leg.

“I know you’re tough, but for a minute, pretend that you’re not. Give me your pain on a scale from one to ten.”

“Six.”

“Six? Well. That’s pretty good. Six is manageable.” He lifted his gaze and caught Seth’s attention. “You ready to make that a seven?”

As Jeremy poured rubbing alcohol onto a semi-clean cloth, Seth ground his teeth and prepared himself. He was a strong boy. There was no doubting that. Even now, he was trying to focus on something else. “So all that damage back there,” he asked, “A tornado caused that?”

“Yup. Probably. Back in the day, this part of the country was known as Tornado Alley. But now, the storms, when they come, are more violent, and there’s no one living here to put the pieces of towns back together again.”

“And will a tornado happen now?” Seth asked, his voice trembling as Jeremy tended his leg.

“I suppose it could. No reason it couldn’t. And if it did, it wouldn’t be pretty. The weather has become increasingly volatile over time. In fact, I’d like to get out of here as quickly as we can. I don’t want to linger, if we can help it.” He lifted the corner of the bandage and frowned, then pressed a finger to the skin. It was warm. Warmer than it should be, verging on hot. “Seth, are you feeling alright?”

Seth glanced at Sam and Jeremy pursed his lips. The boy was so damned transparent. But all men are, aren’t they? Even as boys? Always trying to impress a pretty girl. Always acting tough, gritting their teeth against pain.

“Sure,” Seth lied, despite the beads of perspiration that dotted his brow. “I’m fine. Like I said: I’m tough.”

“I know you are, but this doesn’t look right. The skin feels warm. And it’s a little red, too.”

He removed the remainder of the bandage, carefully, without allowing the edges to pull at the wound. Seth made soft sounds of displeasure. Despite the severity of the wound, he’d been lucky. Things could have been much worse. He’d lost a lot of blood that day, and then spent an uncomfortable evening clenching his teeth against the pain. Jeremy and Sam had coaxed fluids into his mouth, and tried their best to get him to eat. They’d spent two days in that dilapidated motel room—two tense and restless days. Jeremy had been climbing the proverbial walls. It had been two days Jeremy knew they couldn’t afford. But at this point, leaving Seth behind wasn’t an option.

With a hiss, the bandage came free in Jeremy’s hand. He frowned. Seth’s skin was unquestionably flushed, though Jeremy couldn’t see any puss. To his untrained eye, the edges didn’t appear to be overly swollen, but the skin was warm, which didn’t seem right. Jeremy’s initial fear had been of blood loss, but the risk of infection was what worried him now. Who knew how much of that polluted water had seeped into the wound? How much of that chemically poisonous soup had found its way in, and festered there? Had Jeremy cleansed it thoroughly? Had he done it fast enough? Only time would tell.

“Here goes,” he said quietly to Seth. “Be strong.”

He took the antiseptic to the wound swiftly, and above him, Seth stifled a yell. His knuckles were white as he gripped his thighs, but he held his emotions in check. Jeremy made quick work of the entire process. After cleansing the wound, he replaced the bandages, careful to apply tape to the outermost edges.

“We need to keep an eye on this,” he said tersely. “We can’t risk infection.” He ran a hand through his hair. “We still have antibiotics, but what we have has long expired. They’re probably weaker than we’d want them to be. I don’t want to take any chances.”

Having cleaned and dressed the wound, Jeremy rolled down Seth’s pant leg, and winced. The fabric was dirty and smudged with oil. The chain on the bike had soiled the cloth. And it was stiff with the sweat of hard work. Dirty fabric against an open wound? Fantastic. They needed to replace a suitable place to wash their clothes, but it had been many miles since they’d last passed a stream, or a semi-clean river, or any body of water, and he refused to use what little they had left for anything other than drinking. They would have to make do for now.

“Number please,” he called out to Sam.

She lifted her arm. “Three hundred and fifty-six.”

Jeremy sucked air through his teeth. “Too high. Try taking another pill.”

She rummaged for the bottle of pills in her pack. “Carp,” she said, “they aren’t any good. They’re not strong enough anymore.”

“I know. But they’re not exactly worthless to us either. We’re lucky to have them. Now that you’ve eaten, try taking two more. Let’s see what happens. That’s all we can do.”

She dry-swallowed the pills. She was a pro at this. At the sight of the bottle, Jeremy felt a sudden stab of guilt. His conscience whispered, murmured a single name. Peter, it said, and he suddenly felt sick. The pain was an uncomfortable flickering of conscience, like a muscle that cramped or an annoying nervous tick. His gaze was drawn to Sam’s waist, where the teddy bear keychain hung from a belt loop. Ever since they’d teamed up with Seth, she’d taken to wearing it again. But why? Did she blame herself for what had happened to Peter? No, he thought. That couldn’t be true. It wasn’t her fault, and she knew it. Was she wearing it to convey a certain message? To keep Peter at the forefront of Jeremy’s mind? Ensure history didn’t repeat itself? Jeremy owed a moral debt for that sin. He only hoped he would ultimately pay it.

Just six hours ago, the meter at her belly had fallen to zero percent, and Jeremy had decided to test the pills. He was running an experiment of sorts. He wanted to see how effective they were at raising her insulin before replacing her disk.

“So where are we off to next?” he asked her. “Where do we go from here?”

She pointed to the map. “The Caddo River. It’s smaller than some of the other rivers we’ve passed, so I’m thinking we can use it to bathe.” She tossed an empty water bottle in Seth’s direction. “We need to wash. That guy stinks over there.”

“No, I don’t!” Seth tilted his head at Jeremy. “But how will we get ourselves clean if we’re washing with stinky river water? I thought you said the water was spoiled.”

Jeremy spooned cold lentils into his mouth. “Oh, it’s spoiled, all right. No doubt about that. But it won’t be as bad as the Mississippi was.”

Sam turned and rummaged through her pack, likely in search of the Prisoner of Azkaban. “Merlin,” she said, “we can’t drink the water, but we can boil it and use it to wash ourselves.” Pulling the book into her lap, she sought the bent corner marking last night’s reading. “Besides, some rivers aren’t as bad as others.”

“And none are as bad as the oceans are, right?”

“Ask Carp,” she answered. “He’s the only one who’s ever seen the ocean.”

Recollection slowly dawned on Seth’s face. “That’s right! You’ve actually been there. Haven’t you? What was it like?”

“Before we get into any of that, give me your number, Pike. Let’s figure this out.” Until he’d gauged the effectiveness of the pills, he wouldn’t be able concentrate on anything else.

She groaned and checked her arm. “Three hundred and one.”

Jeremy cursed inwardly. “So, they work, but barely. It is what it is. They’re not as powerful as I’d like them to be. Okay. That’s it. Experiment over. Let’s replace your disk before we do any reading.”

Setting down the book, she crawled closer to him. Though her faced lacked expression, Jeremy knew how much she hated this. He fished one of the disks from his pocket, careful to avoid showing her how many were left. Seth watched her raise her shirt, eyes wide. Sam was a modest girl. Always had been. She rarely let others see the device. The fact that she was doing so now only proved that she was becoming comfortable with Seth. Jeremy suspected it was the first time he’d ever seen the unit up close.

Inching closer, he leaned in. “You said it was a disk player.” He frowned. “It doesn’t look like a disk player to me. Where does the disk go?”

“It’s not really a disk player, Merlin” Sam said. “How would we get a disk into my belly?”

Jeremy lifted the small plastic disk to the flickering light of their candles. “See?” he said. “It’s the case that makes it looks like a disk. The actual medicine is just a thin tube.”

“It’s an advertising gimmick,” Sam added.

“A what?” Jeremy grinned despite himself. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”

“Its called reading, Carp. You should try it some time. If you did, you might learn something.”

Palming the applicator, he leaned closer to her stomach. “Deep breath, kiddo.”

“Will it hurt?” Seth breathed.

Jeremy answered in Sam’s stead. “It’s not pain in the conventional sense. It’s more of a discomfort, or pressure. See that hole in her belly?” He pointed to a small circle of durable plastic, which marked the point of insertion. “We attach the applicator here and inject the tube. Simple as that.” He demonstrated by touching the applicator to the small hole, and with a soft click, it snapped into place. He released his hand, left it attached to her body.

Seth cocked his head. “It looks funny. So you just leave it there? Now what do you do?”

Jeremy had a sudden thought. “Why don’t we let you do it this time?” It was a good idea, he told himself. Training Seth how to tend Sam was just sound planning. At the very least, it wouldn’t hurt anything.

Seth peered at Sam through lowered lashes. He was obviously embarrassed to touch her.

“Just do it,” she snapped. “Carp’s right. It doesn’t hurt. It just feels strange, and it only lasts a minute. Just do it, already, scaredy-cat.”

He gently wrapped his palm around the applicator, fit his thumb over the plunger, and paused. “Give me your pain on a scale of one to ten,” he asked her quietly.

“Zero, you dope. Now do it.”

His thumb turned white as he pressed the applicator.

“That’s good,” Jeremy encouraged him. “Be sure to keep it straight. Don’t allow it to bend to either side. Hold it straight, and as it lowers, apply steady pressure.”

As Seth pressed it down, a smile crept across his face. There was a low, satisfying click. “That’s it,” Jeremy encouraged with a nod. “You did it! Now remove the applicator, and watch her numbers rise. That’s all there is to it. Pretty easy, isn’t it?”

Seth pulled awkwardly on the tube.

“Ouch! Not like that. Don’t pull it, you fool. Snap your wrist to the right.”

Seth startled, scared to have caused her pain. He flicked his wrist and detached the applicator. Bending low, he watched the meter rise. With a smile, Jeremy watched it too. He glanced from the meter, and then to Seth’s face, whose lips were pursed in concentration. He obviously wanted to do this right.

In the span of a single breath, the numbers on the meter began to climb, about ten percent, every few seconds. There was no feeling as deep and gratifying as delivering her a disk of insulin. Fifty percent became sixty percent, and sixty percent quickly became eighty. It was heady, an intoxicating sense of security.

“One hundred percent!” Seth exclaimed proudly.

“Yep. One hundred percent. How about that?” With a sigh, Jeremy settled himself and discarded the empty disk. One hundred percent. Thirty days of bliss. Thirty days of freedom from worry. Nothing compared to that feeling.

On hands and knees, Seth backed away from Sam, as she picked up the book like nothing had happened. She was intent on reading, on doing something normal, but Seth’s thoughts were spinning. He turned to Jeremy. “How many disks are left, Carp?”

Sam heaved a sigh. “He won’t tell us, Merlin, so don’t bother asking.”

Jeremy’s eyes lost focus. “One,” he murmured, before catching himself. The word had slipped out of his mouth.

The room fell silent. Sam slowly lifted her head. She repeated the word with a curious inflection, as if the combination of letters was foreign to her. “One,” she uttered softly, meeting Jeremy’s gaze. “And I suppose you have a plan?”

“When do I not? That’s what San Diego’s about, kiddo.”

She rounded her shoulders and nodded her head, but he’d seen fear flash across in her face. It hadn’t been a trick of candlelight. Sam knew firsthand what would happen to her without proper medication. She’d seen it before, up close, with Peter. Jeremy was instantly remorseful for having told her the truth, though maybe the time was right. Maybe it was time she joined the fight for her life. Maybe it was time she took her health seriously. Hers would be a life of constant struggle, a never-ending quest for pharmaceuticals in a world with a limited supply. She’d never know rest. Could never know rest, lest she allow herself to waste away and die.

Or unless San Diego doesn’t work out the way you think it will.

Jeremy scattered the unwanted thought. Yes. It was time Sam joined this fight. It was time for her to see the importance of what he was doing, of staying on the move, of searching the dark corners of pharmacies and convenience stores. It was time she joined him inside those stores, instead of hanging outside with her nose in a book. Jeremy wouldn’t be around forever. She would eventually have to do this on her own.

Okay, he though, enough morbid topics of conversation for one evening.

“So,” he encouraged them both. “Where were we? I think, last night, Sirius Black escaped Azkaban. Am I right?”

“No,” Seth pouted. “That’s not where we were. I asked you a question and you haven’t answered yet. What was the ocean like when you saw it? Did you see fish? Sharks? Squid?”

Jeremy gazed at the sky. “Nope. Nothing like that. Fish didn’t exist, Merlin, not even then. All ocean life was extinct. There were no fish, ocean birds, seals, or porpoises, nothing at all.”

“So, what was there? What did you see?”

“Water,” Jeremy answered. “Just water. Blue-black water skimmed with oil and peppered with bits of trash. There was lots of trash.”

Seth scrunched his nose. “Trash?”

“Why were you even there?” Sam asked. “I mean, why would Grandma and Grandpa take you to the ocean? All the way from Tennessee? It doesn’t make sense. I don’t get it. Did you go to Florida? I thought that place was dead.”

Jeremy shook his head. “Not Florida. California. Grandma and Grandpa took me to the Pacific Ocean. They were scientists back then. Scientists—I might add—who were well respected in their fields. They’d been called to the Pacific to investigate something.”

“Was it big?” Seth said. “The ocean, I mean. Could you see all the way to the other side?”

Sometimes Seth’s questions were so childlike Jeremy had to remind himself how young he really was, how little he’d seen, how little he knew. He had no concept of what an ocean was like. He’d never attended public school, never seen any photos, or read books. Seth’s parents had sheltered their son. And Jeremy wasn’t judging them for it. They’d stocked their house with ample supplies. They’d thought to plant gardens and place rain catchers along the top of their roof. They’d done more than some, and less than others. They were the reason Seth was alive today. They’d spent their money on needs instead of wants, on necessities instead of indulgences. They’d been smart. But when Jeremy and Sam had entered that house, Jeremy hadn’t seen a single book or magazine.

“No,” Jeremy said patiently. “You can’t do that. The ocean is too big to see the other side of it. It’s larger than rivers, or streams, or lakes.” He smiled. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Wait,” Sam said. “Hold on. You said California. But that’s where we’re headed right now. You just said California was spoiled and full of trash, that the ocean was dead and toxic. If that’s true, then why are we going there? Wouldn’t it be smarter to try the Atlantic Ocean, or the Gulf of Mexico?”

“Pike, we’re not trying to get to the ocean. There’s nowhere left to try. The oceans are dead.”

She scrunched her nose. “So why California?”

He shrugged. “There’s something we need, and it’s there.”

Fumbling for an answer, he turned to Seth again, silently encouraging more questions. He wasn’t yet ready to tell Sam his reasons for traveling to California. He wouldn’t raise her hopes prematurely.

Seth’s face was scrunched in thought. “I don’t get it,” he complained. “You said your parents were scientists. What were they sent to investigate?”

Jeremy sighed and folded his hands. “Back then, the Pacific Ocean was called ‘The Great Pacific Garbage Patch’.”

Seth’s imagination was clearly running wild. “Wow,” he breathed. “‘The Great Pacific Garbage Patch’? So the ocean was covered in garbage? Like you couldn’t see the water at all?”

“No,” Jeremy countered. “It’s not like that. The term ‘garbage patch’ is just a catch phrase. The trash is there—yes—but it’s not on top of the water. It swirls beneath the surface like garbage soup.”

“So there’s nothing on top? You can’t see it?”

“Well,” Jeremy ceded, “You can see some of it, I suppose. I did see some of it, come to think of it. Plastics mainly. Lots of plastic. Many things contributed to the death of the oceans, guys, but the Western and Eastern Garbage Patches were a large part of what happened—particularly after the patches converged.”

Sam perked at tha. “So there was more than one Garbage Patch?”

“Are more than one. They’re still there, Pike. Plastic—for the most part—isn’t biodegradable. It will take millennia to break it down, if it even happens at all.”

“But what did it look like?”

Seth clearly needed a visual.

Jeremy took a breath. “Well, if I squinted my eyes and faced the sun, the ocean almost appeared normal. Only through a microscope could one see the garbage. And that’s when my mother and father took me. Most of what I saw was small bits of trash that floated on the surface. The real issue was the water beneath. It was filled with bits of plastic, from large particles to tiny pieces we found when we dredged it up.”

“Dredged it up,” Sam repeated numbly. She closed her book with a soft creaking sound and folded her hands on the cover. “Okay. We’re done with Harry Potter, I think. Tonight there’s another story to tell.”