Barren Waters, A Post-Apocalyptic Tale of Survival
Chapter 26

The sea is nature’s vast reserve. It was through the sea that the globe as it were began, and who knows if it will not end in the sea! Perfect peace abides here. The sea does not belong to despots. On its surface immoral rights can still be claimed, men can fight each other, devour each other, and carry out all earth’s atrocities. But thirty feet below the surface their power ceases, their influence fades, their authority disappears. Ah, sir, live, live in the heart of the sea! Independence is possible only here! Here I recognize no master! Here I am free!

-Jules Verne, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea

Chapter 26

Present Day

“Guys, it won’t hurt you.”

From his blanket atop the sand, Jeremy called out to them, smiling as they scampered to the water, and laughing when they ran from the incoming waves. “It won’t kill you, goofballs. You can dip your toes in.”

As usual, they ignored him. It was as if he wasn’t there. The game, he supposed, was much more fun. Turning his gaze to Sam, he smiled. She looked amazing, so healthy and strong. He could barely believe the transformation. Her burns had healed, and she’d put on weight—at least ten pounds by his estimate. For a girl that slim, ten pounds was noticeable. But there were other changes as well—emotionally. She was happier now, more secure, exuberant. It had been a long time since he’d seen her like this, even longer since he’d felt the same way. The morning he’d found the disk in the case was the most gratifying of his life thus far. The moment her meter had risen to 100%, he knew he’d saved her, that life would go on. He and Seth had wept by her side, unabashedly, and then begged her to wake up and talk to them. When she did, their lives had begun anew. They’d moved her to a small square of light in the sun and Seth had coaxed her into drinking some water, while Jeremy ran to retrieve the crowbar.

After two painful hours and a stream of curse words, he managed to break through the facility’s security doors, and the reward, in the end, was breathtaking. Row after row of unshipped disks were waiting for Sam, just beyond the locked doors. There were cartons, boxes, cases, and crates—more than enough to last Sam a lifetime.

But that’s the thing about the end of the world, all of the stuff that remains, the surplus. Sam was one of the lucky ones. No. She might be the last lucky one—the only one of her kind, at least. The thought was humbling and demanded gratitude, but it also brought to mind unsettling images. At that very moment, across the United States, how many street-wars were being waged? How many people were killing one another? Fighting over food, water, or shelter? How many mothers, emaciated and worn, were pushing ailing children in the baskets of broken-down shopping carts? In this strange new world, things had changed irrevocably. Certain things were more valuable than diamonds. Sam was now a very wealthy woman.

The disk had immediately stabilized her health, as had the life they built on the highest peak in Point Loma, San Diego. When the three of them set out to choose their new home, the children’s’ choice had surprised Jeremy. He’d expected them to choose a monstrous mansion, or a French chateau in the suburbs, or maybe a posh penthouse in the gas lamp district, or a sprawling manner overlooking the blue waves. Their choice, however, had been simple and cozy, and Jeremy was proud that he’d allowed them to make it. He’d retreated from that decision entirely, for it had been his job to save their lives. He’d let them decide how best to live them.

They chose a small house at the top of the highest rise, a yellow, one-story ranch, built in the late 1950’s, hidden beneath overhanging cedars and elms. Truth be told, it was reminiscent of their cabin in Sevierville. Perhaps Sam had chosen it because of that, or because of the big picture window that faced the bay, or the cozy fireplace in the small living room. Whatever her reasons, she’d chosen well. The view from the windows was spectacular, different from the one in the Smokey Mountains, yet no less glorious or magnificent.

The house itself was small and old. “Big love grows in small spaces,” Sam had said, and now that they were here, Jeremy couldn’t agree more. Once they moved in, they planted their garden, though the grounds had been lush already. Fragrant lemon trees, boughs heavy with ripened fruit, had already matured on the property’s western border. They added to these spinach, kale, and tomatoes, cucumbers and broccoli, and various root vegetables. They even planted a row of dwarf peach trees, a small fig tree, and a blueberry bush. The soil was black and rich with nutrients, and already, their seeds had begun to sprout. They harvested fruit from neighboring yards—but only from the places where no one was home.

Seth—like he had said he would—had scavenged the neighborhood for binoculars, and on the clearest days, in the early dawn light, he would hold the convex lenses to his eyes and scan the sea for signs of life. From the bay window, he could see as far as Tijuana, Mexico. At some point Jeremy would replace a telescope with which to view the stars and beyond. But for now, they had everything they needed, and more.

The house had needed work, and more than a little. The cleaning and dusting had taken four days. Old food had dried and spoiled on the kitchen shelves, and Jeremy had dragged the smelly refrigerator down the street. It hadn’t rained lately, so water was a constant concern. It was something that would require a permanent solution, but Jeremy refused to let that worry him now, for the life they were living was deliciously regular. Their sore muscles and burns had healed, along with their battered spirits. It would take time to recover from what they had seen, and from all the things that had been done to them, but the human spirit is nothing if not resilient.

They weren’t alone in San Diego. Jeremy wasn’t stupid. That didn’t make sense. The land in this area was too rich, too lush. Life was too easily sustainable. Jeremy scavenged alone, and at night, and though he hadn’t crossed paths with people, he hadn’t tried. There were too many other important things to get done, too many things to replace, to collect, and to grow. There was a life to embrace, to love, and to live.

Jeremy dropped his head to the sand and listened to their giggles, contentedly. He let his eyes close. Sunlight danced behind his lids in strange patterns. Sometimes, still, he would awaken in the night, sweating and frightened, unsure of where he was. He would panic if the children weren’t sleeping beside him, for of late, they slept in separate rooms. For the first few nights, after their arrival, they slept as they had before, in the same room, beside each another, each rolled into his pallet. But as comfort set in, each took his own room, and Jeremy had struggled to retrain himself to the coldness and loneliness of sleeping alone.

Though life had calmed, there were times when anxiety still struck him, when he couldn’t believe they had actually made it, when his heart beat wildly and he lost his breath. There were times when he felt like he’d been a bad father. Sam was right. He had gambled her future. He had put all her eggs in one very small basket. His decisions, at times, had been reckless and irresponsible, and he wondered if luck hadn’t yielded the results. Things could have gone much differently, and worse. There were so many forks along the road they had travelled. Any one could have led to her death. But it hadn’t, and it was best not to dwell on such things and move on.

He turned his face to the spraying salt surf. He was certain Susan would have liked San Diego. She always loved the Smokey Mountains of Tennessee, but perhaps she would have liked this better. Jeremy and the kids didn’t have an ark yet, but they were working hard to build a new one. And Susan, he knew, would be proud of that. Pushing himself on an elbow, he smiled, as Sam and Seth crouched low on the beach. They were inspecting something, a shell perhaps, or a bit of sea glass. Sam felt his gaze and came scampering over.

“What did you replace over there?” he asked.

“A crab!” she gasped, out of breath. “Can you believe it? Well, at least I think it’s a crab. It’s ugly. I can barely see its legs. Its shell is tiny and it lives in a hole. It burrows into the sand when the tide rushes out.”

“It’s a mole crab, Sam,” he said with wonder. “That’s amazing. You actually found life. Seth must be proud.”

“Wait. A mole crab? That’s a terrible name.”

With a grin, he shrugged. She was still into names. “I don’t know what to tell you, Pike. That’s just what they’re called.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m sure I can come up with something better than that.”

Turning her face, she peered across the water. They didn’t normally spend any time at the beach, but today was special. It was Seth’s birthday—or so he had said. There was no way verify that information. “Ten years old,” he’d stated triumphantly. “One year closer to Sam.” Jeremy didn’t know if he was telling the truth, or just using their ignorance to catch up with her. Nevertheless, he and Sam played along.

“I like it here,” she said suddenly, her voice soft.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Mom would’ve liked it, too.”

“I was just thinking the same thing before you came over here.” Staring at his daughter, Jeremy took a deep breath. “I’m glad you like it, Sam, because it’s yours. Every last thing in that house is yours—yours and Seth’s.”

“Yours, too,” she said, turning to face him.

“Yep. Mine too.”

“Mole crab,” she said with disdain. “Terrible name. But I guess not everything’s dead, is it?”

“Nope.” He squinted into the sun. “Guess not.”

“Think we’ll see any fish? Seth is over there looking for fish in the shallows—looking for shadows of fish, I should say. He says you can’t see them because they swim too fast, that you have to replace their shadows instead.”

Jeremy laughed. “No. We won’t see any fish, I’m afraid. Nor will your children, or your children’s children. But maybe your children’s children’s children’s children will.”

“My children?”

Jeremy sucked in a breath. The words had just slipped out of his mouth. He hadn’t given thought to their meaning, or considered the promise they held. With a shrug, he pointed toward Seth. “Yeah. Sure. All it takes is a man and a woman.”

She turned, peered at Seth and raised her hand to her brow. Jeremy delighted in the smile that split her face. “Eeeeew, Dad! Stop! That’s disgusting!”

As she scampered away, Jeremy laughed out loud. At their age, four years was quite a gap to bridge, but as time marched on, things would change. Their friendship would likely deepen into love. A lump suddenly rose in his throat.

This is it, he thought. I’ve actually done it. I’ve acturally done what I thought was impossible. This was what Susan and I wanted for Sam—a happy life, a home, a lifelong companion, the possibility of children, a family of her own.

He smiled. Maybe not such a bad father after all. Maybe even Liam would be proud.

As he basked in the sun, he thought of his wife, of the first time he’d seen her as a beautiful woman and not just a girl with moles on her face. She’d been bathing in the stream that ran behind their house, and he’d watched her guiltily—until she’d caught him, of course. She’d screamed, then laughed, and then run to the trees, only to return to the same spot the next day. That memory always brought a smile to his face. It captured the spontaneity of her spirit, her vitality, but also the amazing serendipity of life. People come into our lives when we need them. The trick is remembering to cherish the time and give thanks to the powers that put them in our path.

As Jeremy watched his daughter scan the beach for mole crabs, he couldn’t help but think of the human soul. Perhaps humanity would survive after all. Turning his face to the glittering water, he basked in the breeze and the feelings of peace. Humanity was decent at the survival part. It was the preventative stuff that needed a bit of work. If man had focused on initiatives that worked to protect and conserve what was given to him, there may have been a different outcome for everyone.

Humanity had failed the magnificent sea. But would man fail himself in the process? Only time could answer that question, he thought. Perhaps man’s ingenuity would see him through any cataclysmic event, his resilience, his drive to succeed. Or maybe it would be his undying devotion, his willingness to sacrifice for those he loves. In the end, maybe that would save him.