Barren Waters, A Post-Apocalyptic Tale of Survival
Chapter 16

Human progress is neither automatic nor inevitable... Every step toward the goal of justice requires sacrifice, suffering, and struggle; the tireless exertions and passionate concern of dedicated individuals.

—Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Chapter 16

52 Years Prior

January 12th, 2124

Knoxville, TN

Some forty-five minutes ago, their helicopter had landed at McGhee Tyson Airport, and Liam and his family were now stuck in a long line of traffic. Anxious, restless, and eager to return to his cabin, Liam peered at the entrance to Henley Street Bridge. They’d been forced to take a circuitous route that had taken them forty-five miles off course. The Tennessee landscape was bright that night, with the orange light of a multitude of fires. Staccato bursts of gunfire rang out in the distance, in a way that set Liam’s teeth on edge. This was it, he thought. He was finished with this. If his family could just get make it back to their cabin, he would never leave it again. Life as he’d known it was over. The country was in shambles. Its people were at war. Those who’d prepared were tucked away in their shelters; those who hadn’t were suffering the elements. And those who were predatory in nature, of course, were busy inducing chaos and violence for all.

Just yesterday the Nomad had docked at a San Francisco pier, and Liam had demanded an immediately flight. They were swept, first, to Arnold Air Force Base, and next, by helicopter, to McGhee Tyson Airport, where his jeep had been waiting outside. He and Olivia had said their goodbyes to the sea, and with heavy hearts, had turned from her glistening waters. And though the departure was tearful and gut wrenching at first, they longed for the comforts of home.

Olivia flinched as gunfire crackled in the distance. “Nobody’s moving, Liam. This bridge is completely gridlocked.”

Strained to see the other side of the bridge, he soon gave up and switched off the car. Jeremy was curled beneath a blanket in the backseat, knees drawn to his chest in a fetal position. He was snoring softly. Kids slept through anything. Liam sighed and turned to his wife.

“You’re right. Might as well conserve a little gas.”

Opening his door, he balanced himself on the ledge of the SUV, stretching on the tips of his toes to see. This didn’t seem like a normal gridlock. It was worse than anything he’d witnessed before, and it set his heart pumping to an unhealthy rhythm. The road before him was bedlam. The bridge was packed solid, bumper-to-bumper. People had strayed from the painted lines of lanes and were now packed tighter than a tin of sardines. There was nowhere for anyone to go. Some were balanced on the lip of the bridge, while others were wedged in the wrong direction. Steam billowed from a few stalled vehicles, while black smoke hissed from the tailpipes of others.

Liam heard screams as a military-grade Hummer rolled over the tops of several compact cars. He ducked his head into the car.

“This is madness, Liv. We’ll never get through. We have to turn around, try a different way.”

Twisting in her seat, she peered behind them. “Turn around and go where? We’re as trapped as they are. We’ll never get out that way.”

Though he hated to admit it, she was right. A line of cars stretched behind them as far as the eye could see. He found himself counting them as he tried to think of a way to get home.

“Liam, what does it matter if we’re stuck? We may as well relax and make the best of it. It doesn’t matter how long we sit here. We have food, water, all the time in the world. We’re fine where we are for right now. Let’s just sit here and wait this thing out. People have to move at some point, don’t they?”

Stretching once more on the tips of his toes, he tried to make sense of shapes in the distance. Something was developing. He couldn’t see what. But vehicles that were moving before had stopped moving altogether now. Things had ground to a halt. Dark shapes clustered at the mouth of the bridge, but it was too dark to make them out clearly.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “Something feels wrong. Something tells me we’ll never be able to get through.” Slipping quietly back into the jeep, he shut the door as gently as he could. “I have a bad feeling about this, Liv.” Pursing his lips, he weighed their options. All this planning. All this preparation. What if it had all been for nothing? After all they’d been through, what if he couldn’t get them back to the cabin?

“Stop worrying,” Olivia said, reading his mind. “We’ll make it back home. Have faith.”

“Have faith? How can you talk about faith right now? Especially after the things we’ve just seen? We just left an ocean that’s become a landfill, and you want to talk to me about faith?”

“Yes.” She motioned to their son. “For him.”

Turning from her, he peered out the window. The Garbage Patch had been rough on him. He still wasn’t sure how to reassemble himself. He felt as if he’d been blown apart, as if pieces of his body had scattered to the wind. Since they’d left, a melancholic feeling had taken root, and it was now threatening to overcome him. He was having a difficult time shaking it off. Olivia, on the other hand, seemed less affected, or maybe she was just better at hiding her feelings. Not so for him. He’d never excelled at that. He had always worn his emotions on his sleeve. He’d always suffered depressive thoughts, too: anxiety, feelings of foreboding, restlessness. He’d always hovered at the edge of the light, always wished he were somewhere other than he was, always faked his smiles and forced his laughs. He’d always nervously checked his watch. Maybe part of him had anticipated this. Or maybe, like she’d said: he just lacked faith.

Swinging his gaze to the cars in front of him, he startled as a shape detached from the darkness. Olivia sat up, her body rigid. Leaning forward, she clenched her armrests.

“Did you see that?” she whispered.

Of course he’d seen that. Staring at the shadows, he waited for them to move a second time. After a moment, a lone figure made itself visible before scampering around the Ford Raptor in front of them.

“Don’t move,” he whispered to Olivia, as another figure emerged from the shadows. It crept to the driver’s-side door of the truck, where it hovered in silence as if waiting for something. While Liam was replaceing it difficult to breath, the driver of the truck seemed oblivious to the danger.

In a choreographed movement, the two figures converged on the vehicle, and Liam instinctively moved for his gun.

Olivia stiffened. “Stay out of this, Liam. Don’t get involved. You don’t know what they intend to do.“

“I know exactly what they intent to do. They intend to steal that man’s truck.”

Liam tensed as he watched one of the would-be thieves try to open the driver’s side door. When it wouldn’t budge, he slammed the butt of his gun against the glass, which shattered but thankfully held—until he ran it through with a gloved fist, of course. Stepping up to the ledge of the truck, the man reached through the window and fumbled the lock. Liam felt frozen as he watched the scene. God, he was so damn sick of this shit—sick of desperate people causing mayhem. He was sick of watching them take from others, instead of trying to provide for themselves. He was sick of the violence and savagery, sick of the profound disrespect people showed for one another. As he watched the men struggle through the window, he wrapped his fingers around the handle of his gun. The driver was putting up a decent fight, but he was going to need help if the second man engaged.

Don’t just sit here, Liam thought. Pull the trigger!

Glancing at his wife, he reached a sudden realization: he did want to get involved. For once, he did feel compelled to help. He was tired of being a spectator on the bench, tired of watching others play the game and lose. All of his anger and recent disappointments flooded to the surface in an instant. All of his negative feelings about the Patch rushed in, compelling him to move and do something. As the owner of the Raptor leaned against his door, Liam thrust open his own. Startled by the sudden inertia, the thief lost his grip and went sailing through the air. He landed on his back and then righted himself, dropped into a low crouch and assessed his next move. Raising his gun, he issued a guttural threat. “We’re taking the truck. Step aside.”

Tumbling from his vehicle, the Raptor-owner glared back. “Over my dead body, you son of a bitch.”

“Liam!” Olivia repeated, as he slid from his seat. “Do not get involved! Please!”

Funny she should say that, he told himself. Did not three years ago she do the same thing? They wouldn’t have Jeremy if she hadn’t. Pushing her protests to the back of his mind, he focused on the scene in front of him. Eyes trained on the dueling men, Liam realized he’d forgotten the second thief—until a scream pierced the air from the other side of the truck. The second man emerged from the shadows, rounded the bumper, and stepped into the light. Unfortunately, he wasn’t alone. Beneath his burley arm, he carried a small young girl, her sobbing mother close at his heels.

Dear God, Liam thought. This can’t end well.

Smiling at his ruthless partner, the gunman returned his gaze to the driver. “See? Like I said, we’re taking the truck.”

As if to drive the point home, his partner lifted the girl and shook her bodily. She didn’t appear to be much older than Jeremy. Her legs pumped furiously, as if she were pedaling an invisible bike.

“Let them have the truck,” Liam said. “It’s not worth it.” Its owner didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on his daughter, who was squirming in the large man’s arms. Her fists pummeled his thighs like a tiny battering ram. Turning his attention to the thief, Liam held up his gun. “Drop her,” he said. “Take the truck. Do neither, and I’ll pull this trigger.”

Liam was surprised at the strength in his voice. He sounded more confident than he felt inside.

With a sob, the man’s wife dropped to her knees. Liam took advantage of the momentary distraction and moved a step closer to the girl. “Did you hear what I said? Put her down. Take the truck.”

The moment hung heavy in the air. The child’s father seemed paralyzed with fear. “Please,” he whispered. “Just take it. Go. Set my daughter to her feet and go. I don’t care. I won’t try to stop you.”

The gunman seemed to be weighing his options. He clearly cared nothing for the child, and was probably envisioning the nuisance she would be. But she was the only leverage he had at the moment and he didn’t seem keen on evening the odds.

For a few minutes more, no one moved, and though the thought of disarming made Liam’s stomach queasy, he knew, in the end, it was the only choice he had. These men weren’t leaving without the truck. And they’d take the child with them if it came down to that. They’d probably take her and dump her in the woods.

Liam lowered his gun, set it on the pavement, then lifted his hands in the air. “Okay,” he said softly. “You win. Take the truck. You’re free to go. I’m not going to move.” He kicked the gun, watched it spin across the road. “I can’t stop you now. Just go.”

The man with the child sneered. “You’re damn right you can’t.”

The man with the girl edged closer to his partner, swung the child around, and then scrambled for the gun, and with the weapon secured in the waistband of his pants, he shared a meaningful glance with his partner. In a moment Liam would never forget, the man reached a decision and reared back his arm. He tossed the child into the air, and despite her father’s efforts to catch her, she fell. Skidding across the pavement, she came to rest several feet from where Liam crouched. Her screams rent the air, but she was clearly all right. Liam released the breath he’d been holding. At least she hadn’t hit her head or face.

Both criminals ran for the truck, and when they fired up the engine, no one moved. Where the hell would they go? Liam wondered. The bridge was packed tight; they wouldn’t get through, even with a vehicle as formidable as a Raptor.

In awe, he watched them try to get through. The driver pushed the truck to its limits as he tried to ram through the crowd. It appeared as though he was headed for the shoulder and using smaller cars as leverage to do it. Liam heard Olivia exit their car and hazarded a glance in her direction. Her incredulous expression matched his own. She seemed as bewildered by the scene as he was. Mouth agape, her gaze fixed on the truck, she watched it attempt to create a path for itself. Other drivers were restarting their engines, trying their best to get out of its way. But heedless to all, and considerate of none, the Raptor surged forward relentlessly. When it reached the mouth of the bridge, it nosed through by hoisting two cars atop a small Camry, and as onlookers screamed, Liam felt a sense of impending doom. This fool would get himself—and everyone else—killed, for Liam couldn’t be the only person with a gun. Someone—or someones—would stop this madness.

Olivia somehow broke the trance and ran to the woman and her child. Liam watched her squat down beside them and speak softly, so he made his way over to the young girl’s father. The man was staring after his truck with wonder.

“All be damned,” he whispered. “Look at him go.”

“I don’t think he’ll get very far in this mess.”

“Probably not,” the man said, turning to Liam. “Name’s Tom. I can’t thank you enough for what you did back there.” The two men stood shoulder-to-shoulder, amazed, as the Raptor climbed the ass-end of an Accord.

“I thought it was best to let him go,” said Liam. “I can take you and your family anywhere you need to go.”

After a moment of silence, they turned toward the women. Tom’s wife was cradling his daughter, who fortunately seemed more frightened than injured. There were several small scrapes along the undersides of her arms, and a long strip of road rash on each of her knees, but a bruised ego seemed the worst of her ailments. Her father swept her into his arms, cradled her there, and smiled at his wife. The gratitude on each of their faces was heartwarming, and it immediately brought Jeremy to mind. He was sleeping alone in the Jeep. Time to go. Setting his hands to his knees, Liam pushed himself to his feet. “Tom, we’re parked over there. The Jeep. I meant what I said. If you need to get somewhere, we’ll be happy to take you. All we need to do is just—”

An intense popping sound caught Liam’s attention. Gunfire, he recognized immediately. He and Tom and the women hit the ground. Liam peered in the direction of the bridge, where a group of men had circled the Raptor. The thieves had made it onto the bridge after all, but had left a path of devastation in their wake. They had crossed the entrance, become wedged between cars, and now, were cornered by angry, gun-wielding men.

“We need to get to my truck,” Liam cautioned, flinching at the sound of angry shouting. “We need get out of here. Now. This isn’t good.”

The little company didn’t wait. They ran to Liam’s Jeep in crab-like crouches. Liam could see Jeremy staring through the windshield, balancing on his knees, hands gripping the front seats. Eyes wide, he observed the chaos around him, and with mouth agape and eyes puffy from sleep, he met his father’s gaze before the world exploded. A great ball of orange-and-yellow fire suddenly filled the night sky. Liam was tossed to the ground, bodily, as if he weighed little more than a bag of soggy leaves. The acrid odors of gasoline and smoke burned his nostrils and clawed at his throat, and a sudden blast of heat warmed his face. The coppery taste of blood flooded his mouth. He pressed his tongue to the inside of his mouth, where he’d bit a small chunk from his cheek. What the hell caused that? He wondered of the blast. He’d hit the ground hard. Everyone had. An eruption of stars glittered behind his eyes. His left bicuspid seemed loose.

The sound of feet scampering across pavement drew his attention to the Jeep. “No!” he said, panicked. “Jeremy, stop! Lay down! Get down on the ground right now!”

As if in the middle of a quaking battlefield, Liam crawled toward his son on hands and knees and fell atop him, a moment before the next explosion rocked the earth. Together they huddled, until the blasts subsided. Liam lost count of how many there were as he held Jeremy tight and waited. Olivia, he thought. Where had she fallen?

Around him, the scene had devolved into chaos. People were running from their cars in a panic as they tried to escape the dangerous bridge. The fallen were trampled and left behind, the elderly, pushed and cast roughly aside. There hadn’t been a blast for a few moments now. Liam scanned the scene for his wife, his gut clenching when he finally saw her. She was laying fifteen feet from where they huddled, covered with debris, curled on her side. She was quiet, dirty, and still.

“Jeremy,” he said, lifting his chin. “Are you all right?” Though Jeremy’s eyes were round as saucers, he didn’t seem to have suffered any injuries. “On your knees then,” he said, replaceing his hand. “Stay close to me. We need to go to Mom.”

The two, staying low, scuttled closer to Olivia.

“Liv,” Liam said when he reached her. When he cradled her face, her eyes opened, and when her arms circled his neck, his relief was palpable.

“I’m fine,” she said, stretching her arms to Jeremy.

“The bridge,” Tom muttered in amazement. “It caved in. The entire front section fell in. If we had made it to the entrance, we’d all be dead.”

Crouching beside the man, Liam peered at clouds of smoke and debris in the distance. Tom was right. The bridge had cracked in half. “Those explosions must have been cars,” he observed.

Tom wiped at blood that had smeared his cheek. “It was the Raptor. Someone’s bullet must have hit the gas tank.” He shook his head solemnly. “Those cars were packed too closely together.”

“My God,” Olivia gasped. “All of those people.” She had crept closer and risen to her knees, but Jeremy was nowhere in sight. Liam spun around.

“Look at him, Liv.” He caught his wife’s hand.

Jeremy was brushing dust from the little girl’s skirts.

“Let’s go home,” Liam murmured to Olivia. “We’ll leave the car, just leave it right here. I don’t think we’ll need it anymore, after this. We’re thirty miles from the cabin, at best. We’ll walk. It might take half the night to get there, but we’ll get there safely. Anything is safer than this. We’ve got water, food, and another gun, too. We’ll take Tom’s family with us. What do you think?”

He could see the surprise in her face. He was extending their cabin to a family of strangers, which might be a bad idea, he mused. But this was somehow different. Jeremy didn’t have friends. He needed this. He hadn’t met a child his age in years, hadn’t started school, hadn’t made a connection. Liam wasn’t entirely sure public schools would even open this year. But Jeremy had clearly made a connection now, and it was one Liam wanted to nurture. He watched Jeremy touch the side of the little girl’s face, wipe blood from the wound that seeped from her scalp. Despite the maelstrom and chaos around them, he could hear Jeremy’s words spoken clearly.

“You okay?” he asked the girl quietly. “You cut your head when that bad man threw you to the ground. My name is Jeremy. That’s my Dad over there. There’s a squirrel that lives behind our house, in the woods. Have you ever seen a squirrel?”

The girl shook her head slowly.

“We don’t have squirrels where we live,” the girl’s mother said. “Might be fun to see one up close.” She grasped her daughter’s hand. Liam warmed to her smile. “It’ll be an adventure. What do you say, Susan? Would you like to go on an adventure with Jeremy?”

“Susan,” Jeremy whispered, repeating the name. She smiled shyly as he wiped blood from her face.

“Your moles,” he said softly. “They look like a star.”