The Onyx Seed - A Story of Survival by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 29

 

They approached with caution as Marty eased up on the gas. Julie continued gazing through the binoculars as the figure on the pavement grew larger as Marty slowly closed the distance.

“Stop!” she said.

Her voice was urgent as she realized the individual who lay on their back was a man. Marty quickly applied the brakes, causing the RV to suddenly lurch forward, waking Tessa and Wyatt. “Let me take a look,” Marty said. Julie handed him the binoculars and raising them to his eyes, discovered for himself that her observation was correct. The question that rose in Marty’s mind was, ‘Is he armed?’. With weary eyes, Tessa walked out and up to the back of the cab with Wyatt following close between.

“Why did we stop?” she asked.

Her curiosity led her to look in the same direction as Marty and Julie. Squinting her eyes, she inquired as to what they were looking at.

“There’s something lying on the road up ahead,” Julie answered.

“We not sure if they’re dead or alive.” Tessa continued looking. Her one concern was whether they were male or female. Another woman on board meant there would be someone else to talk to, maybe someone understanding.

But a man who’d simply been picked up off the road could be real trouble and in spite of her youth, Tessa knew a few things about men. Her youthful experience led her to believe that many seemed to be driven by ego, lacking in consideration for anyone, selfish and sometimes childishly dependent. But she also realized that not all men were the same. In fact, she held Marty in high regard for his strength, kindness and the fact that he seemed to be willing to carry the responsibility for their survival on his shoulders alone.

“So, what are you going to do?” Tessa asked.

“We’re trying to figure that out,” Marty answered. Tessa suddenly felt the pull of sympathy as she remembered back to when Marty agreed to take them in.

“Why don’t we just pick them up?” she asked. Marty lowered the binoculars and looked at Julie. “What do you think?” he asked.

Julie let out a sigh of concern.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “I guess we should, at least, see if they’re okay.”

“I think we need to do the right thing,” Tessa chimed in.

Marty nodded in agreement. He was very hesitant to take in another person, not wanting their journey to become a search and rescue mission. And the more people in their group, the greater the potential for conflict. And the last thing Marty wanted was to be a babysitter for someone who insisted on causing problems.

“Alright, we’ll take a look,” he said. He started the engine and began a slow approach until they were a mere thirty feet from where the collapsed person lay on the road. At this distance, it became abundantly clear that the individual sprawled out on the highway was indeed a man. Marty left the engine running and engaged the parking brake. “Any second thoughts?” he asked. The women were in agreement that something should be done.

But, as they were both about to give their final rendering, Wyatt grabbed Tessa’s pant leg. Looking down at him, she noticed a look of deep concern on his face.

“What’s the matter, baby?” she asked. His response was anything but understandable. Still, unable or unwilling to speak, Wyatt simply shook his head.

“It’s okay,” she continued. “We’re just going to check on someone, just to see if they’re okay.” Wyatt became almost insistent as his concern quickly gave way to anxiety. And grabbing his mother’s pant leg again continued vigorously shaking his head. No one could possibly have known what was going through his mind. Everyone was, so focused on making what was clearly an emotional decision, that Wyatt’s behavior went largely unnoticed. And no one would have ever imagined that Wyatt’s odd reaction could be a warning. Children see the world through innocent eyes, untarnished by the fears and prejudices of adults. And sometimes, they see far more. Reacting not to the details, but to the whole picture. The entertaining deception of a simple magic trick does not escape them. They see the world on such a profound level of simplicity as to be beyond any understanding. And unbeknownst to everyone else, Wyatt knew something was wrong. Even without a voice, Wyatt could be clearly understood. All they needed to do was listen.

Marty agreed to walk down and make a quick assessment, looking for injuries and signs of illness. It was unlikely that he would see any signs of the infection. Yet, it was always better to be cautious than careless. Opening the door, he retrieved his nine millimeter from under the seat.

“Um, is that really necessary?” Julie asked.

Tucking it behind his back, he looked up at Julie with concern.

“I hope not,” he answered.

Walking cautiously towards the man, Marty could see his chest faintly rise and fall with each slow, regular breath. He circled the man with his pistol drawn. Aiming at his chest. He may be sick or injured, but a weapons search was imperative, over and above anything else. Marty was unwilling to risk the group's safety for one man lying on the side of the road. After making certain the man was unarmed, Marty moved in closer and began his assessment. The man was uninjured, but looked pale and lacking in physical strength. Opening the man's mouth, Marty made a quick observation of his tongue and noticed it was covered with a white film, leading him to believe that the nearly unconscious man was badly dehydrated. He clearly saw the symptoms, but Julie was the nurse and therefore their only source of medical expertise. Checking again for the presence of a weapon, Marty again found nothing. Besides, given the man's condition, it was unlikely he would offer any resistance.

From within the RV, Tessa and Julie sat watching as Marty went through the steps of the man’s assessment. Looking up, he waved Julie over, wanting her opinion as well as any suggestions regarding what should be done next. Turning to Tessa, Julie instructed Tessa to stay in the RV and keep the doors locked.

And grabbing a bottle of water, she got out and ran towards Marty, who was still making his assessment. She knelt down next to the man as Marty turned and asked for her opinion.

“What do you think?”

She had made her own assessment within only seconds and agreed that the man was severely dehydrated.

“We need to sit him up,” she said. She gently took the man by the shoulders and yelled to him in an attempt to prompt a state of wakefulness. Finally, drifting into consciousness, the man opened his eyes. His gaze moved slowly about in an almost random survey of his surroundings.

As he attempted to sit up, Marty and Julie gently guided him to a sitting position where he could drink without choking. His speech was slow and rambling. His color was pale and his skin devoid of any obvious sweating. Julie surmised that he’d been lying on the highway for at least a day. However, as delirious as he seemed to be, his faculties cleared enough for him to hold a bottle of water. He drank as if the bottle contained the only water left on the planet. At such a rate, Julie was forced to stop him, fearing further illness by water intoxication. Marty and Julie looked at each other with one unspoken question. ‘What now?’

“We can’t just leave him here,” Julie said. Marty nodded his agreement.

“Let’s get him in the RV and go from there,” he replied.

Picking him by the arms, they did their best to carry him to the RV, only to drag his feet along the pavement. Pouring the man into the driver’s seat, Tessa grabbed an arm and helped pull him back into the living area. Wyatt stood by with an angry scowl as he stared down at the man, who now lay on the floor. Marty returned to the driver’s seat while Julie climbed back into the living area to continue tending to the man, who slowly began to recover his faculties. They gave him more water and Julie asked Tessa to find some sugar. Concerned that the man’s blood sugar had dropped, she sprinkled a small amount under his tongue.

Processed sugar was better than none at all. Back on the road, it was only a matter of an hour or so that the man recovered enough to speak clearly. His name was Kevin and appeared to be in his early to mid-twenties. He presented a slightly short build with closely cut, light brown hair. His facial features strongly suggested Irish descent. But until he regained complete consciousness, who he was as a person would be unclear and Marty had more than a few questions to ask him. Wyatt continued glaring at him until Tessa saw his expression and intervened. “Wyatt,” she said firmly. “Mind your manners and stop staring.”

She directed him to sit on the couch, creating more room so as to better tend to Kevin. He was covered with bumps and bruises, prompting Julie to retrieve some gauze and antibiotic cream.

While Julie and Tessa were busy caring for Kevin’s water starved affliction, Marty turned the rear-view mirror at an angle, allowing him to see what was happening. He caught a glimpse of Wyatt’s expression and was struck by the feeling that something may be wrong. The look on Wyatt’s face told Marty that something was, indeed, not right about Kevin’s unforeseen presence. But with Wyatt still not speaking, Marty could only guess as to what he might be thinking. From route 295, Marty turned north and back onto I-95. The next large city they’d pass would be Washington, D.C., former capital of what was once the United States of America.

The country had been reduced to a simple land mass. No doubt, the flag still flew over the White House front lawn, in front of the Capitol building and the Pentagon. But it too, had lost its meaning. No longer a symbol of what some thought to be one of the greatest nations on the planet, it would continue to flutter in the wind as nothing more than a machine-made sheet of fabric. Eventually, flying into tatters. The Constitution, the Declaration of Independence and all other documents responsible for the existence of a nation now just scribbles on paper. Where there are no people to give a country purpose, there can be no country at all. The ideals produced by people willing to fight and die for the creation of a sovereign state had fallen to dust. The ghosts of the founding fathers had faded into oblivion. With a city the size of Washington, Marty would again avoid driving through it. He would, as usual, find a heavily wooded area to camp in for a few days before continuing to creep north toward New York State. This time, they would be stopping at Prince William Forest Park, just southwest of Washington. However, Marty was somewhat uncertain if the park was far enough from the city that their safety would not be threatened. He’d never been to the D.C. area, but the map showed the park to be quite sizable and after nearly two hours, a large green sign on the side of the highway pointed out its direction. Meanwhile, Julie and Tessa were still tending to Kevin and had brought him to a point where his words were finally making sense. They had also been feeding him anything that didn’t require preparation, including the additional sprinkling of sugar under his tongue. Wyatt, having into the cab, got into the passenger seat. And as Marty instructed him to fasten his seat belt, he noticed an angry expression on his face. “Hey, buddy, what’s up?” Marty asked. Wyatt looked back into the living area, where Kevin was now sitting up. He looked back at Marty with concerned eyes yet spoke not a single word. “Yeah,” he continued. “I feel it too, but we have to do the right thing, right?”

Apparently, Wyatt did not share Marty’s sympathy, and looking him in the eyes, shook his head in disagreement. From a child, Marty expected to see worry or fear but never apathy. Especially from a three-year-old. Then Wyatt raised a hand and pointed to Marty, his fingers curled into the shape of a gun.

Turning at the waist, he aimed his finger back toward Kevin and pulled an imaginary trigger. Marty was horrified. This from a three-year-old? Both of them seemed to share a suspicion that bringing Kevin along was a bad idea. On the other hand, killing someone over a feeling was something Marty refused to do. He spoke to Wyatt in a quiet voice.

“Don’t worry about it, buddy. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Wyatt’s expression went unchanged as he turned back to the oncoming road. As per the map’s instructions, Marty turned left off route I-95 and onto Joplin Road. The park lay just up ahead and to the right. He searched for the access road while occasionally glancing over at Wyatt. His behavior prompted a great degree of Marty’s concern. He had never heard of a three-year-old prone to violence, but he supposed that anything was possible and would remain alert for any escalation or changes in his behavior. Maybe Wyatt had been more traumatized by his experience than Marty had previously thought. Mawavi Road appeared on the right. The map lacked the necessary detail by which to navigate the park's roads and once again, Marty’s intention was to disappear as deeply into the woods as possible. Since the beginning, he had defined safety as being well hidden

and as he slowly made his way along the dirt road, his eyes pierced the trees that lay beyond its edge. Noticing a slight clearing some fifty yards ahead, Marty’s intuition told him that a side road was not far away. And just as he thought, a road came into view on the right. But it was his acute sense of direction that led him to think it would take them deep into the woods and after roughly half an hour of slowly driving over tree roots and potholes, they arrived at a dead end lined with a few campsites. Turning into the last campsite on the left, Marty turned off the engine and made his usual visual inspection of the immediate area. He turned to Wyatt and spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear.

“I think we’re going to be okay here.” Under normal circumstances, Marty would circle the area on foot. However, this time doing so would mean leaving Julie, Tessa and Wyatt with someone who could not yet be trusted. And until that time, Marty considered him to be both a liability and a potential threat. There had been no real discussion about what would become of Kevin upon his recovery. But the one thing Marty was certain of was that Kevin would not be traveling to New York with them. And there was something about him that put Marty on edge. Something that didn’t feel right. Marty had already ruled out any personal issues regarding the idea of sharing the RV with another man, concluding that he was far from insecure and had no problems with matters of gender. So, if it wasn’t that, then what was it that reached out to Marty and dragged him down the dark road of suspicion? Was it the novelty of having suddenly taken on someone new into the group? And what was Wyatt thinking? Did they share the same suspicion? If he could only get Wyatt to speak, even one word. Marty got out and asked everyone to follow. “What about Kevin?” Tessa asked. “He’s still having some problems.”

Regardless of Kevin’s condition, Marty did not trust him and didn’t want him left alone in the RV. “Help him out,” Marty answered. “I’ll bet he could use some air.”

Marty watched him closely as Julie and Tessa helped him out of the RV. He was looking for any behavior that could indicate problems in the future, facial expressions or eye contact. Kevin was helped down into a sitting position in front of the campsites fire pit. Marty motioned Julie away from the RV for a quiet conversation.

“I have to take a look around,” he began. “So, just keep an eye on him, okay?”

Julie glanced back over her shoulder where Kevin was sitting, drinking another bottle of water. “In his condition, I don’t think he’s going to do anything,” she replied.

He realized that Julie was probably right. Yet he insisted that Julie watch him for any signs of threatening behavior. No matter how insignificant. He also reminded her that there was a child among them and Wyatt’s safety was a priority. Julie still thought it was unlikely that Kevin would bring any harm to Wyatt, but Marty’s point spoke loud and clear. Julie was now left with the realization that Wyatt’s welfare lay in everyone’s hands, not just Tessa’s. They would have to be more than just a group of people with the common goal of survival. They needed to form a bond with each other, to become a family. The funeral of Tessa’s baby represented the first of those bonds.

Marty was gone for about thirty minutes and returned to find everyone around a roaring fire. Kevin was not only alert but conversing. This drew Marty’s attention immediately, as he found it difficult to believe that someone who had been discovered nearly unconscious while lying on the side of the road, could recover so quickly. He stood off to the side, in the trees and watched how Kevin interacted with everyone. Now, Marty had become suspicious of only one thing. There were no red flags in Kevin’s behavior. People have a habit of putting on their best face when trying to make a positive first impression. It’s not really a lie, it’s just the way people are. But some people are better at it than others. And with some people, it’s a lie designed to fulfill an agenda, to get what they want from others with no regard for anyone but themselves. Marty hoped this would not be the case with Kevin, however he did notice something. He noticed how Kevin would occasionally look at Julie. And Julie, having noticed it as well, was not comfortable with it either.

Marty walked out from the trees and as he approached everyone, informed them that his search of the area produced nothing of concern. Walking around Kevin’s back, he reached down and lightly kissed Julie on the lips.

“No coyotes here,” he said.

Julie was greatly relieved. And as Marty sat down between them, Julie glanced past him and momentarily caught a fleeting look of jealously mixed with silent anger. Unbeknownst to Kevin, he’d revealed what could only be thought of as a warning. Meanwhile, Wyatt was making a conscious effort to avoid even the briefest eye contact with him, clinging to Tessa’s side as though hiding behind a shield. A silence fell over the group as afternoon faded into evening. The only sound to be heard was the crackling of the fire and the chirping of crickets near the edge of the lake. Marty decided to break the nerve shattering silence by putting a few questions to Kevin.

“We found you on the side of the highway. What happened?”

Kevin’s recollections were a bit foggy, but he remembered leaving his hometown on foot after seeing friends, neighbors and family members dying around him. He had spent days walking I-95, hoping to be picked up or find some place where there was, at least, some clean water. After he collapsed, his memory became buried in a dehydration induced hazed. However, he did remember being dragged across the pavement and haphazardly loaded into the RV.

“Not much of a story,” he said. “I just thought that leaving would give me a better chance than staying.” Marty nodded in agreement.

“Sounds like you made the right decision,” he said. “Yeah,” Kevin replied. “But I didn’t even take any water with me. I guess I just panicked.” By this time, Marty sat behind Julie with his arms affectionately wrapped around her. Night was well on its way as the moon, now half-way through its celestial cycle, faded into view high above the tree-lined horizon.

The light of the fire cast an eerie glow beneath the pines and on the faces of those huddled around its warmth. At a glance, Julie noticed the fires flickering beams falling on Kevin’s face, twisting it into a hideous mass of hidden rage and turning back to Marty, she whispered in his ear.

“Can we take a walk down to the lake?”

She didn’t want to leave for more than a few minutes, but her reason for doing so was urgent. Once at the water’s edge, she drew Marty behind a tree. The night air carries not only the light of the starry sky, but also the clarity of the smallest sound, regardless of its distance. Julie hoped the tree would shield their whispered voices as she expressed her fears and concerns regarding their new passenger. “Marty,” she whispered. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this guy.”

“I know,” Marty replied. “You’re not the only one. Wyatt doesn’t seem to like him either.” Julie reacted with a wide-eyed expression. “He spoke to you?!” she asked.

Expecting this reaction, Marty led her a bit farther away and behind a larger tree. Glancing around towards camp, he noticed a conversation taking place between Kevin and Tessa. Turning back to Julie, he continued with his own whispered concerns. He described the incident that had taken place while sitting in the cab next to Wyatt. His facial expression, his gesturing of the gun as well as his silent anger over Kevin’s presence within the group. Julie was shocked.

“God, I wish he could talk,” she said. “What are we going to do? We don’t room for five people.” Marty agreed that something should be done. Perhaps he would be amenable to receiving a modest amount of supplies and being dropped off in the next sizable town. It was this scenario that Marty saw as the most likely, and he would sit down with Kevin that night and talk to him regarding their concerns. He would assemble a backpack with all the essentials including several bottles of water, a sleeping bag, food for several days and matches. He planned to drop Kevin off on the Washington beltway. There were enough towns and businesses for him to get back on his feet and find some place to call home.

They walked back to camp by the narrow beam of Marty’s flashlight. But upon their arrival, Kevin suddenly ended his conversation with Tessa. Everyone seemed to be caught in an awkward moment as Kevin suddenly became silent. And as Marty and Julie again sat in front of the fire, Marty noticed Wyatt still glaring at Kevin. “If he could just speak a few words,” he thought. Breaking the tense silence, Marty thought he’d try to learn a bit more about Kevin and tried to strike up a conversation. For some reason, Kevin was noticeably hesitant to engage Marty in conversation. “You feeling better?” Marty asked. “Uh, yeah,” he answered. “I’m doing a lot better. Thanks.”

Marty nodded his concern.

“Good.”

Kevin tried to redirect the conversation away from Marty’s obvious concerns.

“I don’t think this little guy likes me very much, though,” he said, motioning to Wyatt. “Oh, yeah,” Marty replied. “Wyatt’s been through a lot.”

Kevin raised Marty’s suspicions when he broke eye contact and glanced down at the ground. At that point, Marty made the assumption that perhaps Kevin was consciously trying to avoid something.

“So,” Marty began. “Before we picked you up, was there someplace you were headed? I mean, we’d be glad to take you wherever you’re going.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” Kevin replied. Marty was intentionally leading up to why Kevin wouldn’t be able to travel with them. And considering his odd behavior, Marty felt justifiably concerned that he may be a threat. “Well, the only reason I ask is that we just don’t have room for another person. If we had a bigger vehicle, that would be different, but this is all we’ve got.” Kevin took a slightly defensive tone, creating a palpable degree of tension among everyone. “So, what am ‘I’ supposed to do?” he asked defensively.

There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to be alone. People have always gravitated towards communal living. Yet, it was Kevin’s reaction that was troublesome. He felt as though he was about to be abandoned. Thrown to the wolves of what had become an even more unpredictable world and seemed to take it personally.

“So, you’re just going to throw me out in the middle of nowhere?”

“Oh, no,” Marty answered. “I’ll give you a pack loaded with everything you’ll need. I can drop you off near a mall, so you can pick up whatever else you want. You can even pick up a car and go wherever you want.”

Kevin briefly thought about what life on the road might be like.

“Anywhere I want, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Marty answered. “It’s not that hard, really. No one asks you where you’re going. You don’t need anyone’s approval. You just go.”

Kevin took a moment to consider Marty’s words. “You know, that actually sounds pretty good,” he replied.

“Sure, I guess one of the malls would be great. I might even be able to find a hotel to crash in for a while.”

Then he asked Marty what he thought his chances were of running into someone. Maybe someone he could travel with.

“I have no idea,” Marty answered. “We haven’t exactly met a lot of people out there.” Kevin paused as an odd expression overtook his face and made eye contact with Tessa. “I guess it’d be nice to have someone to travel with.” Seeing the direction the conversation was taking, Julie decided to add a somewhat sympathetic comment.

“I know there aren’t many people out there, but there are more than you think. You’re going to meet someone, eventually.”

Tessa’s fearful expression became more than a bit noticeable as Kevin forced his eyes away from her, concerned that he may have raised her suspicions. This, however, was exactly what he had accomplished and all the false sincerity he could muster would not hide it. Visibly irritated, Kevin continued on to another concern.

“So, where am I supposed to sleep? Because, I’m not sleeping out here.”

Julie reacted with anxiety as she got up from in front of the fire.

“Let me go in and arrange a few things,” she began. “We’ll come up with something.” Julie went into the RV and began moving things around, trying to create a place for him to sleep. The only thing that seemed to make her even slightly comfortable was that it would be for only one night. After that, Kevin would be dropped off with enough food and water for several days. But under the circumstances, the night promised to be especially long and sleepless. Kevin continued gazing into the fire and without so much as turning his head, spoke to Marty in an almost monotone voice. “You don’t want me here, do you?” Marty felt more than a bit spooked by the sudden shift in the conversation. To say nothing of Kevin’s sudden change in mood.

“Kevin,” Marty replied. “We just don’t have the...”

“You afraid I’m going to fuck your girlfriend?” Kevin interrupted.

He turned towards Marty and with unblinking eyes asked a short, but infinitely more disturbing question. “Or her?”

Tessa began trembling as a sadistic grin scrawled its way across his face. Marty’s anger suddenly boiled to the surface and quickly lost his patience as well as any compassion for Kevin’s previous circumstances. Tessa got up and taking Wyatt’s hand quickly walked to the RV. She was not so much afraid for herself as she was for Wyatt. After she closed the passenger’s door, Kevin stood up and with obvious sarcasm stretched out his arms, feigned a deep yawn and said, “Well, I guess I’ll be turning in, too.” Marty had finally had enough. Quickly rising from a sitting position, he stormed over to Kevin, grabbed him by the shirt and spun him around. “Listen, asshole,” he began. “The only reason you’re here is because we decided to do the right thing and drag your sorry ass off the highway! We could’ve just kept going and left you to die! And this is how you thank us?!”

Kevin continued his angry glare and leaning slightly into Marty’s face gave his response as a single word. “Whatever.”

Kevin’s ungrateful attitude had finally pushed Marty over the edge. And as Kevin turned back toward the RV, Marty grabbed him again, brought his fist up and punched him squarely in the face. Striking him hard enough to hear the cartilage in his nose break. Kevin was sent tumbling to the ground as blood poured from his nose. He hesitated in getting to a sitting position, due to the sudden burst of pain that exploded into the rest of his face. If there was one thing Marty was trained to do well, it was how to throw a punch.

Choking on his own blood, Kevin was quick to sit up. Marty took the opportunity to give him a warning as he bent down and pointed a finger in Kevin’s face. “I’m only going to tell you this once. You touch any of them, I’ll fucking shoot you myself.” Marty disappeared into the RV and moments later returned with a sleeping bag. And throwing it at Kevin informed him that he would be sleeping outside.

“And don’t even think of trying to get into the RV.” He pulled the door shut and making sure both were locked, reached down under the driver’s seat and took out his nine millimeter. Walking back to the bedroom, he sat on the side of the bed next to Julie and placed the pistol on the floor. Julie was wide awake and sitting up in bed, voiced her own concerns.

“Marty,” she whispered. “This guy’s a fucking psycho! What are we supposed to do with this asshole?!”

Marty touched her arm, trying to ease her anxiety. “I’ll take care of it,” he replied in a whisper. “We’ll leave first thing in the morning and drop him off on the beltway, whether he wants to leave or not.”

“What about Tessa and Wyatt?” Julie asked. “We can’t let anything happen to them.”

“I won’t take my eyes off them,” Marty replied. “I promise.”

Julie glanced out through the small bedroom window to see Kevin curled up in the sleeping bag near the fire.

“Did you talk to him about this?” she asked. “Yeah,” Marty answered. “I think he got the message.”

No one slept that night. Even Wyatt tossed and turned. But while everyone else was kept awake by fear, a different emotion drove him from sleep, one that he was still unable to verbalize. Marty felt a deep sense of responsibility to their safety and took it upon himself to stay up inside the cool darkness of the RV. He sat in the shadows of the window nearest the fire. Watching. If Kevin got up and started toward the RV, Marty would feel obliged to shoot him. He had no problem with the idea of killing someone if it meant securing the safety of others. And as far as Kevin was concerned, Marty would feel no regret should he kill him anyway. At this point, all he needed was an excuse.

The night crept by as Marty continued his vigil and as the sky’s darkness began to wane, morning found him fast asleep with his head leaning against the wall next to the window. His first breath of morning air startled him into consciousness as he jumped to his feet. Looking out the window, he scanned as much of the area as he could see. The fire had been long dead and all that remained of Kevin was the empty sleeping bag that lay tussled in a heap on the ground. “Shit!” Marty said quietly.

He cursed himself for having fallen asleep, when the responsibility he held himself to demanded a heightened degree of alertness. Now, he ran forward to the overhead bunk Tessa and Wyatt had occupied, only to find it empty.

“Fuck!” he yelled.

This jarred Julie from an exhausted sleep and sent her hurrying out into the living area as Marty was hastily putting on his shoes.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Tessa and Wyatt are gone,” he answered. Julie ran to the nearest window hoping to see them nearby.

“What about Kevin?” she asked urgently. “Him, too,” Marty answered.

“Jesus Christ!” Julie said.

The idea that Kevin may have harmed either of them sent her into a panic. She ran back to the bedroom and threw on the previous day’s clothes. Meanwhile, Marty, having kept his nine millimeter next to him throughout the night, checked to make sure the magazine was full. Under the circumstances, Marty was now more than prepared to deal with Kevin. And more than willing.

Julie rushed from the bedroom again, informing Marty that she would be searching the area with him. “Stay here,” he began. “Just in case they come back.” He held his pistol with his index finger laying down the side of the barrel.

“Do you think he might have just taken off?” Julie asked.

Her fear led her to denial and wishful thinking, but she knew that this was not the case and her intuition told her that something terrible had happened. Just before leaving, with his pistol in hand, Marty turned back to Julie and gave her some brief words of warning.

“Look, this guy’s not all there, and he’s still here, somewhere,” he began. “Now, I really need you to stay here, alright? So, when I leave, I’m going to lock the door behind me. Don’t go outside until I get back, got it?”

Julie brought her hands up to her mouth as her eyes began to tear up. She nodded her understanding as he stepped into the cab. But just before opening the door, turned back and reinforced his warning.

“Julie,” he said sternly. “I’m serious.” Turning away as quickly, he opened the passenger’s door. However, just before stepping out, he saw Kevin and Tessa emerge from the woods. The shirt she’d put on that day appeared to have been forcefully torn as well as the front of her bra, leaving her partially exposed. She stumbled out of the woods as Kevin pushed her from behind. At roughly forty feet from camp, Kevin stopped her, spinning her around towards him. Pointing a finger in her face, he appeared to be threatening her. It all went by in a matter of moments as Tessa cowered from Kevin’s malicious presence. Then, in an act of anger and control, Kevin slapped her hard enough to knock her to the ground as she began crying loudly. Marty stepped out of the RV and storming up to Kevin shoved him back onto the ground. “What the fuck are you doing?!” he screamed. He became enraged at what he’d just witnessed and was quick to raise his nine millimeter, pointing it at Kevin’s head.

“When I was a kid,” Marty began. “I learned real quick that anyone who hits a woman doesn’t deserve to live!”

He glanced toward Tessa still aiming his pistol at Kevin.

“Tessa, you okay?” he asked.

“What do you want me to do about this asshole?” Her crying continued near hysteria while a narrow stream of blood ran from her nose. Something inside her didn’t want to see Kevin get shot. But something else would be greatly satisfied with the sight of Kevin’s dead body lying on the ground in front of her. However, what she found truly terrifying was what Kevin might do to Wyatt.

“You know, Tessa,” Marty continued. “I’ll take care of this.

Don’t worry about it.”

Only a moment had passed as he turned back to Kevin, who lay cowering on the ground. “So,” Marty began. “Big tough guy. Slapping a woman around, huh?!”

Kevin made an attempt to get to his feet when Marty stepped in and continuing to aim the pistol at his chest, stomped on his testicles. The magazine contained nine rounds of nine millimeter cross haired hollow points. While stocking up at the gun store in Los Angeles, he made certain to pick up ammunition with some real stopping power. Kevin became both angry and desperate.

“Fuck you!” he screamed. “She’s my girlfriend, and I can do whatever I want with her!” He had somehow developed the idea that they were a couple, probably out of some twisted sense of possessiveness. Or worse, some unforeseen mental instability.

“You can keep the fucking kid, but she’s going with me!”

Marty’s response was immediate. “You’re a fucking coward! You’ll back down from me, but you’re real quick to slap a woman around, aren’t you?”

The muscles in his hand began to contract beneath the weight of his rage when he involuntarily squeezed the trigger. The pistol produced a loud crack that echoed off the surrounding mountains, as a round was expelled from the barrel. It burned through Kevin’s skin, shattering his breastbone and ripping its way through his heart. The outpouring of blood was heavy and instantaneous, spraying Marty and Tessa with thousands of thick drops. Marty had seen similar things in Iraq, as snipers killed insurgents with an unbelievable degree of precision. But Tessa had never witnessed such a scene and was startled into a fit of screaming. Julie ran out of the RV and quickly helped Tessa to her feet.

Looking over at Kevin, the wound in his chest pouring out the last inkling of his life. In a state of disbelief, her gaze drifted towards Marty, who still aimed the nine millimeter at him. “Did you really have to shoot him?!” she screamed. “Couldn’t you have just hit or something?!” Iraq seemed like eons ago and Marty had nearly forgotten what it felt like to take a life. Back then, it was neither pleasant nor disturbing. It was simply something that had to be done, a consequence of war and you never thought about it, ever. On the other hand, this wasn’t Iraq and war had never been formally declared. Did he have to shoot Kevin? He could have simply rendered him unconscious, packed everyone up and left and that would have been the end of it. But it was seeing Kevin slap Tessa that sent him over the edge. So, while Julie’s question demanded a logical answer, Marty’s actions were anything but logical. In his mind, he was carrying out an obligation he had been holding himself to from the very beginning, to protect those he cared about and if he had to kill in the interest of that obligation, then so be it. He lowered his pistol as Kevin’s body settled across the cold ground. His color quickly turning an ashen yellow while his face faded into the quiet mask of death. After helping Tessa to the RV, Julie stepped back out and cautiously approached Marty. Putting a hand on his arm, she slowly made her way down to his hand, gently wrapping her fingers around the cold steel still being gripped by Marty’s tense flesh. “I think she’s going to be okay,” she whispered. Still staring at Kevin’s body, Marty posed a question he wasn’t certain he wanted an answer for. “Did he?” he asked.

“Marty, it’s over,” Julie began. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Marty was unmoving in his determination for an answer while his gaze drifted from Kevin’s cold remains and off somewhere into the trees. “Did he or not?”

A noticeable degree of impatience was beginning to surface and the tone of his question demanded an answer. Julie continued to hold her fingers around his hand while she considered how to word her response. She hesitated for a moment, knowing how Marty felt about the responsibility he had imposed on himself. But there was only one answer. One word to be spoken that would determine the direction Marty’s mind would take.

“Yeah,” Julie answered. “He did.” Marty absorbed her words immediately, but his reaction was oddly devoid of emotion. In his mind, Kevin had committed a crime against someone ‘he’ cared about. And Julie’s answer was more than enough to justify his actions. In short, Kevin had it coming.

Seconds later, both Marty and Julie felt something that could only be described as ‘a change in the air’. In a moment of urgency, they realized that neither of them had seen Wyatt.

“Jesus Christ,” Julie said. “Where’s Wyatt?” Marty offered the idea of splitting up. He would follow Kevin and Tessa’s tracks back to their source, while Julie searched in and around the RV. But as they turned to begin their search, Julie was suddenly stopped by Wyatt’s presence.

“Marty,” she said. “He’s right here.” He seemed to have appeared out of thin air and as Julie carefully approached him, spoke quietly as she drew nearer. His expression was unemotional as his eyes scanned every inch of what had, moments ago, unfolded into a strong odor of burning gunpowder. “Wyatt,” Julie began.

She got close enough to delicately put a hand on his shoulder.

“You shouldn’t see this. Let’s get you back to your mom. I’m sure she could use your help right now, alright?”

Wyatt continued staring at Kevin’s body as pools of congealing blood sank into the cold earth, returning to the source of all things.

Julie picked him up under the arms and started back to the RV.

As she walked back, Marty watched as a slight grin came to Wyatt’s face, one that did not seem typical for a three-year-old. It wasn’t one of childlike playfulness, but a joyous satisfaction one might experience during an act of violent retribution. Marty knew he had been through an ordeal no child should ever have to experience. Yet, with that small grin, he also realized there was something else at work. Something that could not be attributed to trauma. Something not typical of a three-year-old. He remembered that when they first happened upon Kevin, Wyatt seemed agitated at the prospect of bringing him. And although he hadn’t seen Kevin’s face, he stood in front of Tessa, shaking his head in protest. Maybe it was the innocent instinct of a child. Maybe Wyatt simply refused to share his mother with anyone outside the group. But it was the grin that left Marty with a haunted feeling, one that he was unable to understand.

The passenger door of the RV closed as Julie took Wyatt inside, away from the horror that lay sprawled on the ground. Soon, the smell of blood would draw in all manner of wildlife. Survival meant the discarding of discrimination they would eat what nature provided. Marty remembered their battle with the coyotes. It seemed like forever ago but still stood out in his mind as a valuable lesson. Now, either Kevin’s body would have to be moved or they would be forced to relocate. And as usual, Marty took it upon himself to make the decision as he tucked his pistol back behind his belt and walked over to the RV. Tapping on the passenger window brought Julie to the door.

“Okay to come in,” he asked.

Julie stepped out of the RV with a deep look of concern.

“She’s washing up,” she began. “Her clothes are ruined, but that’s the least of her problems.”

“Alright,” Marty replied. “I’ll burn the clothes. Other than that, I’m not sure how much help I can be.” Julie looked toward Kevin’s body with the same degree of concern.

“What about the body?” she asked. “Yeah, we’ve only got two choices,” Marty answered. “I can move it into the woods, or we can go someplace else.”

In Julie’s mind, the choice was obvious. Moving it would not be enough when the ground was soaked with blood. She looked up into Marty’s eyes with an almost begging expression. All she just wanted a calm life, free of the turbulent psychosis that seemed typical of life on the edge of survival. She wanted to be with Marty, to be at his side, to grow old with him and die lying next to him near a roaring stone hearth in a small town at the edge of the Adirondacks. Wherever Marty wanted to go, she wanted to be. Her life would never be otherwise.

“Marty,” she said. “Let’s just get out of here. We don’t even have to leave the park, just someplace else.”

Marty agreed this was the best course of action. And the park was large enough that they could find another campsite sufficiently far from the horror that had taken refuge among them.

After Tessa’s violent ordeal, Julie strongly recommended she get some sleep. Perhaps Morpheus would lay his restful hand upon her and heal her fractured soul. Having retreated to the back bedroom, Tessa quickly fell off into a deep sleep as Wyatt curled up next to her. He didn’t quite understand what had happened, but he did understand that his mother was in pain and instinctively made an attempt to comfort her. Meanwhile, Marty brought the embers of the campfire to a small blaze. As the flames grew, he placed Tessa’s blood spattered clothes on them, allowing the fire’s cleansing heat to consume them. Within minutes, every fiber had been transformed into a waft of smoke, rising into the air and fading away like a star at dawn. If only Tessa’s pain could fade as easily, leaving not a trace behind. After being certain the fire was out, Marty started the RV and with Julie in the passenger’s seat, he backed slowly out of the campsite. But before turning onto the dirt road, they both glanced back at Kevin’s body. They weren’t thinking of anything specific. They simply sat and stared, their minds suddenly becoming overwhelmed by the sight that lay at the campsite’s edge. Marty was still trying to process the events that led to their hasty departure, while Julie was attempting to block it out.

Pulling his attention back, Marty took a deep breath and letting out a heavy sigh, put the RV into gear. “Alright, let’s get out of here.”

Having the map of the park committed to memory, he turned right at the main road. The roots and pits crisscrossing the road made driving slow and methodical and Marty did his best to navigate his way through. His goal, once again, was to camp near a source of water and also thought that a slight change of scenery might be beneficial to everyone. So, with the park roads mapped out in his mind, he drove far enough to find the lake’s headwaters. He’d always found the sound of running water especially comforting and hoped everyone else would feel the same soothing effect. And after nearly an hour, he found a campsite near the northern edge of the lake where a broad stream brought in a constant rapidly moving source of water. As with every campsite, there was a patch of bare earth with a fieldstone fire ring.

The ground was noticeably higher than the stream, but the trees still offered adequate cover from the wind and cold that night would soon impose upon them. Tessa still lost in sleep, had gone unmoved through every bump and dip the road had set out between them and their new location. Marty wasn’t planning on being there for more than two or three days. Given recent events, he had become especially eager to continue on to Upstate New York. After spending so much of his life wanting to be the wanderlust, he discovered the need to find a place to call home and although he was following the plan of escape he’d laid out; he was finding the journey somewhat more difficult than he had anticipated. After everything that had happened, Marty began to question himself as to why he felt the need to travel so far to begin with. He could have easily stayed in Whittier or remained in Corpus Christie. Had he only made that one decision, the outcome would have, indeed, been very different.

It was the smell of dinner that brought Tessa back from her exhausted slumber. Julie had taken it upon herself to stay in the RV as vigil. Posting herself within sight of the bedroom, so Tessa would not wake up alone. She had no expectations regarding Tessa’s behavior. But as a woman, she did have an understanding for the violence she had been thrown into. Meanwhile, Wyatt had been up for some time and was sitting with Marty in front of the fire. He was still trying to engage Wyatt in conversation, thinking that even the smallest exchange might prompt more conversation. However, the resulting dialog was unsurprisingly one sided.

Dinner was quick and simple, a conglomeration of what could be easily reached. As everyone gathered, an obvious degree of tension could be felt. Marty was unable to give Tessa any words of support, beyond the question of how she was doing. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. He simply lacked the ability to relate to her circumstances. War had not readied him for that kind of violence. So, with Julie sitting across from her, she occasionally held her hand as Tessa picked at her food. To describe her as an emotional train wreck would be wholly inaccurate. And although Kevin was dead, he had effectively taken her soul with him. Leaving her a hollow shell, barely able to acknowledge her own existence. She sat at the table, trying with great difficulty to maintain her composure as she focused her attention on Wyatt. But while motherhood was obviously a great joy for her, it was not a satisfactory distraction for her pain and as Tessa’s already lacking composure began to fail, she suddenly got up and bolted out of the RV. Julie quickly rose from the table and followed her out to the stream. Having caught up with her, she pulled Tessa in and wrapped her arms around her. Tessa immediately collapsed into her, falling into a state of hysteria. Julie stroked her hair, and kissing her on the head, offered a compassionate degree of support she was not aware of possessing.

“I’m sorry, Tessa,” she began. “I’m so sorry.” Tessa had, by this time, locked her arms around Julie’s waist and was crying into her chest. “Why did he do this to me?!” she screamed. “That motherfucker! Goddammit, why?!” She continued crying as Julie searched for any words that would be even remotely comforting. “He’s never going to hurt you again, ever,” she said. She began slowly rocking Tessa from side to side, trying to calm her hysteria.

“I wish I’d shot that bastard myself!” she screamed. “Honey, you don’t want that,” Julie replied. Tessa backed away from Julie and placing her hands on her head became engaged in only one thought. “No,” she began angrily. “I really wish I’d killed that fuck! And I would have enjoyed it! That motherfucker!”

She stood with her arms wrapped around her waist, having gone from a state of hysteria to seething, ferocious anger. Julie took a small step toward her and changing her approach, said, “Tessa, listen to me.”

Her words were direct and her tone was calm.

“Wyatt really needs you right now. He’s not going to get through this without you, okay? He needs his mom, and he’s still not talking yet and without you, I can’t imagine what might happen to him. You have to be there for him. Do you understand?” Julie’s words pulled Tessa back from her sudden state of rage as she slid her hands down over her face. She stepped back towards Julie and, again, buried her face in her chest. She knew Julie was right. Wyatt needed his mother, especially now with the world having fallen into abject lawlessness.

Twenty minutes had passed when they emerged from the woods. Julie held Tessa’s hand as she wiped the tears from her face. Sometimes, the best form of therapy is to just sit down for a good cry. Releasing one’s pain and anguish. Refusing to allow it to become etched into one’s soul. However, one episode of emotional catharsis would not be enough to heal the open wound Tessa was left with. And she would bear the scar for the rest of her life.

She returned to the RV and reluctantly continued her dinner. The passing of time had left it cold and unappetizing, but Tessa sat down and ate what her state of mind would allow. Emotional upheaval tends to rob one of their desire for food. Julie tried to encourage her, telling her that motherhood does not afford one to be ill. Fifteen minutes later, she had consumed roughly half, and half was better than none. Julie knew it could be days before she’d recover her strength and would have to prompt her to eat every day. Evening found everyone sitting at the fire. At Julie’s insistence, Tessa decided the warm glow of the fire with the coolness of the oncoming night might sooth her frayed nerves. She sat cross-legged with Wyatt drifting off to sleep in her lap. Her mind would momentarily escape as she became transfixed by the fire’s dancing flames. Occasionally, the burning wood would shift as it gave in to its own consumption, sending a hail of sparks skyward with a suddenness of heat against cold. Tessa’s head dropped forward several times as her mind drifted toward sleep.

By now, even an exhausted sleep would an adequate escape. Yet, one cannot sleep forever without waking to whatever demon chases them through the dreary catacombs of somnolence. Julie reached over and nudged her, suggesting she turn in for the night. Shortly after, Marty and Julie retreated to the RV as well. Marty let the fire burn so as to allow its glow to warm the RV and thus its occupants. As Tessa and Wyatt slept, Marty and Julie lay next to each other. Both were deeply troubled by the same concern. “Do you think she’ll be okay?” Marty whispered. “I don’t know,” Julie answered. “I just wish there was something I could do.”

“I know,” Marty replied. “I think we’re just going to have to take this one day at a time.” Julie was silent in her agreement, knowing the only thing she could do was to be there whenever Tessa needed someone to lean on. Marty, however, felt completely helpless. He wanted very much to help Tessa through the trauma of her assault, but by virtue of being a man, he was unable to even comprehend her circumstances, much less be of any assistance. Marty held Julie close and tried to further reassure her that in time, their situation would get better. “Let’s do this,” he began. “You keep an eye on Tessa, and I’ll look out for Wyatt, okay?” Julie looked up at him with an affectionate smile. “You really like that little guy, don’t you?” she asked. Marty tried to be evasive about his affinity towards Wyatt.

“Well, he does kind of grow on you a bit,” he answered.

“And I think that if we just listen to her, maybe Tessa will get some of this out.” It has been said that time heals all wounds. But unless dealt with, the wounds that run the deepest can become infected with bitterness, hate, and vindictiveness, festering into a feverish state of self-destruction, starving the soul of hope and healing.

Morning arrived with a bright, clear sky and a slight chill in the air. Maybe it was women’s intuition that drove Julie out of bed, struck with a sudden feeling that something was greatly out of sorts. The bedroom door nearly flew off its hinges as she launched herself out toward the front of the RV. It’s clattering sound was enough to wake Marty with such suddenness that he would later compare it to a gunshot. Julie stopped just behind the cab and in front of the overhead bed where Tessa and Wyatt had been sleeping, only to find it empty. She had quickly convinced herself they were just outside the RV, and Tessa was likely trying to start the fire. But running to a window, she searched the campsite to find the fire pit black and dead with no sign of Tessa or Wyatt. “Shit!” she said aloud. “Where the hell are they?” Running back to the bedroom, she got Marty’s attention while throwing on some clothes. Marty, however, was already up and half dressed, having heard Julie run panicked through the RV. “What is it?” he asked urgently.

“I can’t find Tessa and Wyatt!” Julie answered. Marty hurried through the bedroom doors on his way to the cab.

“Did you look outside?” he asked. Julie was frantic, plagued by a strong feeling that something terrible had happened. She followed Marty out of the RV as they began a search of the campsite. Having found nothing, Marty decided he would investigate the road, hoping to find them walking with Tessa holding Wyatt’s hand and after running for a quarter of a mile, Marty had seen no trace of either of them, and concluding that they must be back near camp, perhaps near the stream. Running back to camp, he met Julie and inquired as to the results of her search.

“Anything?” he asked.

Julie was beginning to tear up.

“I can’t find them!” she answered. “Fuck!” he said, with an obvious tone of panic. “They can’t have gone far!”

He began pacing, trying to clear his head. “Did you go down to the stream?” he asked. “I went to the stream. I even followed it down to the lake and I can’t find them,” she answered. “Marty, I don’t know where else to look!”

Marty’s attention was suddenly caught by something at the tree line.

“Hang on a second,” he said.

Squinting in the morning sunlight, he walked towards the shape that slowly stood out from among the trees. “Jesus Christ!” he said. “It’s Wyatt!” Wyatt stood oddly still, barely blinking his eyes. Running up to him, Marty made a cautious approach. He knelt down and gently putting his hands on Wyatt’s shoulders, prompted him for help. “Wyatt,” Marty began. “Where’s your mom?” Still, unable to speak, Wyatt seemed frozen in place. Julie moved in, hoping that a woman’s touch would break through Wyatt’s traumatic wall of silence. “Let me try,” she said.

She knelt down as Marty stood up. He began scanning the woods for anything that seemed out of place. Tipping an ear to the wind, he listened for any cries for help. Julie brought herself down to eye level with Wyatt and stroking the side of his face inquired as to where his mother was. Wyatt continued in his silence. Yet, his face turned from flat to fearful. “Can you point to where she is?” Julie asked. Wyatt blinked his eyes several times as his breathing quickened.

He turned back to the woods and pointed upstream. “Shit!” Marty said. “I thought you searched the stream.”

Julie got to her feet and pulled Wyatt in towards her. “I did,” she answered. “I followed it down to the lake.”

Marty darted into the tree line, momentarily turning back while pointing to the RV.

“Get Wyatt into the RV and lock the doors,” he said. “I’ll find Tessa.”

Julie scooped Wyatt up and ran to the RV, entered and locked the doors behind them.

Running into the woods, Marty leaped over rocks, roots, and branches as he made his way upstream. Climbing up onto the bank, he searched the woods on either side of the stream. The trees were becoming heavy, and he was beginning to find it difficult to see through the increasing number of pine trees. “Tessa!” he called.

His cry for a response went unanswered. He called several more times as he resumed his hastening search. But from a distance, Marty’s eyes became fixed on something that one would likely not see in a heavily wooded area. It bore the resemblance of a white banner and dangled stiffly from the lower branch of a pine tree. Fearing the worse, Marty sprinted toward the tree, continuing to loudly call out to Tessa. Stopping at the tree, Marty discovered, to his horror, that the banner that seemed to dangle in an almost frozen state was not a banner at all. Tessa had wandered into the woods and hung herself with a sheet she’d taken from the RV’s overhead bunk. Her body hung like a rag doll as Marty fumbled through his pockets for his knife while staring up at Tessa. She had been there long enough for the pallor of death to overtake her face, leaving her with a slightly open mouth and a peaceful expression. Unfolding his knife, he cut through the sheet that tightly bound Tessa’s neck. Catching her in his arms, Marty quickly lowered Tessa’s body to the ground. He loosened the knot and centering his hands over her heart, began chest compressions while intermittently delivering a deep breath into her lungs.

“God dammit! C’mon Tessa!” he yelled. After several minutes, he realized that his best effort would not be enough. Tessa was dead and no amount of grief nor divine intent would bring her back. Marty’s tears were quick in flowing. As if having lost Lucas was not enough, Tessa has slipped away as well. And although he could not be responsible for the harm people do to themselves, he always felt obligated for their safety.

Marty cried not just for Tessa but for Wyatt, who would now be forced to go through life without his mother. He would no longer have the kindness of her eyes looking on him, or her gentle voice to sooth him as only a mother can. In his grief, he bent down, resting his forehead on her arm and through eyes streaming with tears, Marty noticed a set of fresh scratches dug deeply into her cold, pallid skin. Sitting up, he wiped the tears from his face and turning her arm toward the light, recognized the scrawling of a single word.

‘Sorry’.

Marty was dumbstruck.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

He stood up and stepped away from Tessa’s body, his tears mixing with anger and resentment. Turning back, he flew into a tirade. Knowing his words fell on lifeless ears did not stop him. This time, he pointed the finger of responsibility at her, ranting of her abandonment of Wyatt and that he would likely never so much as remember her face. However, a difficult matter now illuminated itself. How would he tell him? At the age of three, how much would he understand? Wyatt did not know how cold and uncaring the world can truly be, but there was no doubt his mother’s suicide promised to be a difficult lesson in life’s heartless reality.

Marty cleared his head as he dried the tears from his face. He crouched down next to Tessa’s body and removed the sheet from around her neck. After tossing it to the side, he picked her up under the back and behind her knees. She was a bit lighter than he thought and with her arms and head dangling like kite string from a tree, Marty began the longest walk of his life. He had no idea what he’d say to Wyatt. What do you tell a child whose mother had just hung herself from a tree in the middle of nowhere? The words ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t, at all, seem to be an adequate beginning. But Wyatt deserved an explanation, even if he wouldn’t completely understand it and carrying Tessa’s body out of the woods, Marty approached the RV and laid her on the ground. Julie’s face appeared from behind one of the RV’s windows. Her eyes grew wide with shock as her hand reflexively came up to cover her mouth. Marty sat down next to Tessa’s body, still searching for what he’d say to Wyatt. By this time, Julie had stumbled out of the RV in her haste to be of help. “Jesus Christ!” she yelled. “What happened?!” She checked for a pulse when she noticed the wide friction burn around her neck.

“She’s dead,” Marty began. “She hung herself in the woods.”

Looking at her hands, Julie quickly noticed the dark color typically left by the settling of blood the heart would no longer move. Julie stood up and brought her hands to her head in a state of panic. “This can’t be happening!” she said. “Why would she do this?! She wouldn’t do this, would she?!” She dropped to her knees and placed her hands on Tessa’s chest, one over the other. But before she could make the first compression, Marty grabbed her wrists.

“I tried already,” he began. “She’s gone.” Julie sat back on the ground as tears rolled down her face.

“This can’t be happening!” she cried. During her short life, Tessa had been through a great deal of emotional turmoil. With an abusive father, a child at an early age and a failed pregnancy. Now, she had been forced to endure an act of violence.

It’s been said that God doesn’t give one any more than they can handle. Yet, for Tessa, this idea, as noble as it may be, proved to be a fallacy. They looked down at Tessa’s lifeless face for what seemed to be an eternity, when they were startled by the sound of something scuffing across the ground nearby. Marty and Julie looked over to see Wyatt standing motionless, his eyes overflowing and his face twisted into a knot of pain and grief. Julie did what any woman would. She ran to him, and wrapping him in her arms, spoke to him with the tone of a caring mother.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” she said. “I’m so sorry.” She cradled his head between her hands while wiping the tears from his face. But even the anguish brought on by the sight of his mother’s body was not enough to unseal his voice, and he stood with his arms around Julie’s neck, sobbing in silence.

“Julie,” Marty interrupted. “He needs to say goodbye.”

Marty did not have a college education, so the ideas behind psychology were as elusive as they were unintelligible.

However, he did know that grief was something that required resolution, even if incomplete. “Julie, bring him over here,” he said. For a brief moment, she saw his request as an act of cruelty and looked back at Marty with shocked hesitation.

“Julie,” he said firmly. “You know he needs to do this.”

Having realized her maternal instincts, Julie felt the need to protect Wyatt from the harsh reality of his mother’s demise. Yet, at the same time, she knew that doing so would eventually do far more harm than good. Kneeling in front of him, she moved her hands down his arms and gently took his small hands. “I know you weren’t ready for this,” she began. “No one ever is. But you have to say goodbye, okay?” Wyatt shut his eyes tightly as he continued his muted grief, nodded his answer. As a child, he was unable to prepare himself for this necessary confrontation with death. Julie led him by the hand and knelt beside him on the ground at Tessa’s side.

With tears washing down his face, he put his hands on his mother’s body and began shaking her as though trying to wake her from a deep sleep. The sight of such a tragic scene quickly led Julie to tears. Even Marty, with the evil he witnessed in Iraq, found himself wiping tears from his face. When shaking proved to be of no use, Wyatt laid down on the ground and putting an arm around Tessa’s cold remains, pressed his face into her breast. It was a display of such emotional impact than a hardened criminal could have been brought to their knees. As Julie gently pulled Wyatt back from Tessa’s body, she tried to reassure him with words that felt foreign to her.

“Your mom’s with God now,” she began. “You’ll see her again. I promise.”

‘I promise.’

These words might ordinarily be lost on someone else, someone buried so deeply in resentment that no amount of sympathy could free them from their own toxic anger. Marty sat back and tried to clear his head. With the floodgates of grief thrown open, he quickly concluded that, between him and Julie, he might be the only person who could keep himself collected long enough to figure out what to do. He had already decided that Tessa’s body would not simply lay in the middle of the woods, waiting to be scavenged by whatever picked up its scent. And with the lake so close by, Marty knew there was only one way to dispatch Tessa’s remains.

After the disposition of her baby, Marty dreaded having to carry out another watery funeral. At least this time, he knew how to proceed. Julie was now holding Wyatt, making her best effort to comfort him as Marty leaned in and placed Tessa’s hands on her stomach.

“Why don’t you take him into the RV and throw a sheet out to me?” he said.

Julie nodded and picking Wyatt up, walked to the RV. Minutes after climbing into the cab, she tossed a folded sheet to Marty. Having calmed down enough to take control of her thoughts, Julie realized exactly how Marty would handle Tessa’s remains. What fate befell her baby would now fall to her. And as Julie sat in the RV continuing to exercise her maternal instincts, Marty began the process of preparing Tessa’s body. He glanced back toward the RV and seeing Julie nor Wyatt in the windows; he unfolded his pocket knife and just as he had before, deeply pierced her abdomen. It seemed like a barbaric thing to do, but the accumulation of gas was inevitable and Marty wanted to be certain that her body didn’t rise to the surface. It was, in fact, an offering of simple human dignity. Without the heart pushing life through the body, the fresh wound Marty created refused to bleed.

It lay as a simple puncture mark, no longer than the width of his knife. Again, he looked up at the windows of the RV and felt relieved to see there were no eyes staring back. Wyatt did not need to see Marty’s hand plunging a knife into his mother’s body. He would not understand and would likely see it as an assault. Marty knew that he could not protect him from everything. He would need to learn how to be strong.

After wrapping Tessa’s body in a sheet, Marty walked back to the RV and tapping on the small window looking into the living area, motioned Julie out. She went to the cab and opened the passenger’s door.

“How’s he doing?” Marty asked.

“Like a kid who just lost his mom,” Julie answered. Marty quickly realized how poorly thought out his question was, even though it seemed like one anybody with any concern would ask. He briefly shook his head in embarrassment. “Oh, right,” he replied. “That was a stupid question.”

“It’s okay,” Julie said. “I’m worried, too.” Marty glanced back at Tessa’s sheet bound body. “We should do this sooner, rather than later,” he said. Julie let out a distressed sigh.

“I really thought she was stronger than this,” she began. “I wish I’d seen this coming.”

“Julie,” Marty replied.

He stood looking at her with stern eyes. “This was not your fault. Do you understand? If someone wants to do something like this badly enough, they’re going to find a way, alright? You can’t blame yourself for this.”

As much as Julie understood, she couldn’t help feeling at least partly responsible. She had made an emotional investment in Tessa’s welfare yet, also realized that some people are simply beyond reach. “So, did you want to do this like the last time?” she asked.

“Yeah, but not here,” Marty answered. “Let’s go down the edge of the lake for a bit.” Marty didn’t want to have to find another campsite. So, he thought if he could avoid creating an association between where they were and the disposal of Tessa’s body, he might be able to talk Julie into staying put for a couple of days. But Wyatt’s needs came first and if he wanted to stay for another day or two, they would stay. If not, they would leave. And Marty wanted to give him every opportunity to heal, even if it meant going elsewhere.

A funeral should be as long as it needs to be and with Julie and Wyatt in tow, Marty carried Tessa’s body roughly a quarter of a mile away from camp. Leaving the road, they made their way to the edge of the lake. Marty laid her body down at the water’s edge and with Julie holding Wyatt, waited for the right words to emerge. They would not be forthcoming. Lost for words, Marty looked to Julie for something to say. Anything of comfort would be helpful and after a few moments, Julie managed a few words involving the idea that the dead were destined to live on in the presence of God. She continued by telling Wyatt that his mother would always be with him and that he would someday be with her again. So, as Wyatt clung to Julie in his continuing emotional torrent, Marty lifted Tessa’s body from the ground and walking a little more than waist deep into the lake, placed her into its cool, waveless water.

As he released her body, the sheet that surrounded her became saturated as bubbles of air found their way to the surface. To spare Wyatt the sight of his mother’s body drifting back into view, Marty took a few rocks from the edge of lake and let them fall onto Tessa’s water bound remains. They sat on the ground near what had become a torpid, waterfront grave. “She seemed so much stronger than this,” Marty remarked.

Julie nodded to him as she continued rocking Wyatt from side to side. This momentary exchange quickly fell to silence as Marty and Julie attempted to absorb the events of the last hour. Meanwhile, Wyatt had cried himself into an exhausted sleep. “So, what do you think?” Marty asked. “Did you want to stay here for a couple of days or go somewhere else?”

Julie gave his question a few moments thought. “Ordinarily, I’d say let’s just leave,” she answered quietly.

“But, I think it’d be good for Wyatt to have the chance to come down here once in a while before we leave. Maybe you could bring him here and spend a little time with him. I know it sounds kind of weird, but he needs a father figure.”

Marty looked over at his sleeping face. “I think I can do that,” he replied. “We’ll treat him like he was our own.”

Julie looked at him with an affection a smile and putting a gentle hand on the side of his face said, “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Marty’s face blushed with self-consciousness. “Well, it does seem like the right thing to do,” he said.

“I mean, every kid needs a family, right?”

He reached over and put a hand on Wyatt’s back, exposing his own maternal side.

“I hate to tell you this, Marty,” Julie began. “But he’s probably going to want to sleep with us once in a while.”

Marty let out a sigh of resignation. “Yeah, I guess we’ll have to make some adjustments, huh?”

Within the next thirty minutes, they arrived back at the RV. Carrying Wyatt to the back bedroom, Julie carefully laid him on the bed and covered him with a blanket.

Walking back out into the living area, she sat on the couch with Marty and pulled one in his arms around her neck.

“So, what now?” she asked.

“Now, we keep going,” Marty replied. “We stay here for a couple of days and go to New York.” Julie held his arm, placing her lips on his bicep. “We’re almost there.” Julie gave an exhausted sigh. “I’m so tired of all of this,” she said. “Why did this have to happen?”

“What’s that?” Marty asked.

“All of it,” she continued.

She turned around to Marty with a slightly confused expression.

“Why would someone release a disease that could kill everyone? Who in their right mind would do that?”

“I don’t know,” Marty answered. He had seen that many times while in Iraq as people slaughtered entire villages over religious ideology. Who was right, who was wrong. But what he found disturbing was that some of the most religious people seemed far too willing to use violence as a means of conveying the peacefulness of their faith. And now, for one twisted reason or another, humankind had been nearly extinguished, forcing the few who had remained to either live by their wits or die in a storm of madness. The remainder of the day crawled by as Marty and Julie continued to talk about how best to fit into their new roles as instant parents.

Wyatt slept quietly in the back bedroom with Marty and Julie keeping a vigilant ear to the air, listening for any indication of disturbed sleep. Eventually, Julie drifted off on Marty’s shoulder as he sat with his arm around her and as time passed, Marty began to feel the pull of sleep reaching into his consciousness. But as his head fell back against the wall, he was suddenly wakened by the quiet pace of footsteps and by the time he opened his eyes, Wyatt stood in front of him, holding his arms out. Under normal circumstances, children are always in need of a strong sense of security. Yet, in a decimated world, security had become nothing more than an illusion. “Hey buddy,” Marty began. “How you doing?” Reaching down to lift him up, Julie was startled awake by the sudden shift of Marty’s weight. She took a deep breath as her tired eyes forced themselves open. Seeing Marty holding Wyatt on his lap was something she thought of as every woman’s dream. A man who was actively involved in the life of the child was quite rare.

The sun soon struck its celestial apex, marking the beginning of midday. With Marty and Julie acting in their new roles as parents, the need for a routine presented itself. They felt Wyatt needed a certain degree of predictability in order to live with as little chaos as possible. So, after lunch, a schedule was established. Meals, naps, bedtime as well as some degree of education in the form of survival skills. With society having crumbled down around its ankles, an academic education was impractical, with the exception of reading. In spite of the downfall of technology, there were still books, and they could easily be found by anyone who wanted them. So, it was agreed that Marty, with his military background, would work with Wyatt on wilderness skills. While Julie, possessing a college education, would teach him how to read. They hoped that at some point during his ‘education’ he might begin to release some of his traumatized emotions and begin speaking. They would do what they could for him, but Marty and Julie were far from possessing the skills of a therapist.

The evening came and went. During dinner, Julie found herself gently prompting Wyatt to eat as much as he was able.

“You know, Wyatt,” Marty began. Wyatt’s head came up as he gave Marty his full attention.

“We may not always have this much food, so we need to eat when we have it, alright?” It seemed that, at some point, Marty and Wyatt had become connected. Perhaps Marty discovered the need to be a parent while Wyatt was realizing, on some level, the need for a father figure. Wyatt responded to Marty’s prompt by immediately continuing to eat his dinner, consuming nearly all of it.

That night, Wyatt did, in fact, sleep between them. Occasionally, he would stir as though his dreams had been suddenly overwhelmed with emotional discord. Marty and Julie still lay awake in quietly whispered about how the next day would proceed. Marty wanted to begin working with him sooner rather than later. Julie, however, wanted to give Wyatt some time to do a little recovering, as well as the chance to visit what was now his mother’s grave. Marty responded with the idea that teaching him one or two basic skills might be a reasonable distraction and there would be no set schedule to teach by. At least, not yet. This seemed a fair compromise and Julie agreed completely. Rising late the next morning, Julie got up to find Marty and Wyatt outside. Marty decided that the lessons of living could not begin soon enough and was teaching Wyatt how to build a fire. She watched adoringly as Marty patiently walked him through the steps of constructing the necessary materials, from tinder to logs, into a structure that would allow air to easily get in. However, it was Marty who actually started the fire, using a magnifying glass from his survival kit.

Later that day, it would be Wyatt’s turn to bring the fire to life by the same method. Julie walked outside with two mugs of coffee. And handing one to Marty sat on a large rock protruding from the ground close by.

“You two having a good time?” Julie asked. “Well, we’re starting with the basics,” Marty answered.

“We’ll take it slow, but there are some things that he’s going to have to learn. And the sooner, and the better.”

Julie nodded and continued watching as Marty instructed him further on the priorities of survival. Water, shelter, warmth and food. It was his plan to teach Wyatt everything he knew. And with his army training, he had a great deal to teach him. Time did not pass without a few tearful moments as Wyatt occasionally looked, despairingly, towards the lake. And often, it was Marty who was first to see his expression. He would inquire to Wyatt if he wanted to walk down to the lake where Tessa lay on its murky bottom. Sometimes, he nodded his desire to visit his mother’s marshy resting place. Other times, he would simply begin sobbing. So, taking Wyatt by the hand, Marty would walk him the quarter mile to the lake’s edge. Many times accompanied by Julie. If they were to develop the bond of a family, both would have to participate equally. Marty didn’t give his involvement with Wyatt a second thought. Julie came to the belief that the true measure of a man lay in his ability to express kindness towards children. Real men fight with their hearts, not their fists and true strength is a function of the soul, not in how tough someone thinks they are. Julie hoped the qualities she saw in Marty would be passed on to Wyatt, with the belief that a man without sensitivity is no man at all. However, in Marty’s mind, there was a time for kindness and the time to fight. And one always fights for a reason they can justify.

Another three days had gone by, and Marty and Julie remained cautiously optimistic about how to go about raising Wyatt. They had a plan, but things don’t always go according to plan, even with the best of intentions. Julie had begun working with Wyatt on basic reading skills, starting with the simple recognition of letters. Whenever he achieved a correct answer, Julie would reward him with a kiss on the head as well as a generous degree of praise. And it was on that particular day that Julie had, for the first time, seen Wyatt smile. It was a sight that, as beautiful as it was, left her stunned beyond words. Moments later, it was gone, replaced by the empty expression of a soul damaged by the pain of grief. But hope had finally sprung to life and both Marty and Julie began to think that a positive outcome could still take place, in spite of everything that had happened. Later that day, as Marty was making an unsuccessful attempt to catch a few small fish from a lake, Julie and Wyatt sat on the floor in the RV. Using twigs and stones, Julie was trying to teach him how to play checkers using a makeshift board created from a sheet of paper with squares drawn on in pen.

He was learning quickly, but the game was suddenly interrupted when Wyatt sat up with a slightly angry expression.

“Wyatt?” Julie asked. “Wyatt, honey, what is it?”

He got to his feet and walked toward the cab where he stood motionless, staring out the driver’s window into the woods. Julie walked over behind Wyatt and looking out of the driver’s window, saw nothing. Thinking Wyatt was simply reacting to something in his imagination, Julie turned him around by the shoulders and directed him back to their game. Yet, even though she was able to get him focused again, Wyatt’s mood had definitely shifted towards something negative. Julie put Wyatt down for a nap and calling Marty over, discussed her concern about his sudden mood change.

“Well, he’s been through a lot,” Marty said. “It’s only been about three or four days since Tessa died. So, I think he’s entitled to be a little angry once in a while.”

Intellectually, this made complete sense, but it was Wyatt’s behavior that concerned her. Why would he just stare out into the woods? And why the driver’s window? It was as though he was looking in a specific direction. In spite of Marty’s explanation, Julie had come to believe there was something else going on, something she could not explain, but something she could feel. On a deep level, she knew there was something wrong. This impression had taken hold of her thoughts, laying beyond any logical understanding. Eventually, Julie pushed the entire matter to the back of her mind. There were too many things to do, and Julie could not allow herself to become obsessed by something she did not understand.

So Marty and Julie, upon further discussion, cautiously agreed that Wyatt’s odd behavior was largely due to the emotions common to grieving and that all he needed was time. However, it also seemed that Wyatt’s attention had been ripped away from his mother’s watery grave and pulled towards the woods. Marty had, on several occasions, found him standing in front of the RV staring off into the woods. He remembered how Wyatt reacted just before they picked up Kevin and at the time, considered it a fluke. Now, in spite of his belief that Wyatt was simply grieving, he found himself uncertain as to this explanation. So, he decided to simply watch and wait, hoping that his reaction was nothing more than an overreaction. Throughout the day, when Julie wasn’t teaching Wyatt the basics of reading, or how to play checkers, he would stand at the RV’s right front corner, staring into the woods. Marty was returning with firewood when he noticed him held in place by something he was unable to convey. And as Marty piled up the firewood, Julie stepped out of the RV with an expression of deep concern. “Marty,” she began quietly. “He’s been doing this for the last hour and a half.”

“Yeah,” Marty replied. “I don’t know what to do about it. If he started talking, we could actually do something to find out what’s going on. But... I don’t know what to tell you.”

Still maintaining a quiet dialogue, Marty and Julie continued as to what might be affecting him. They wondered if he had ever been on any medications. At least, that was something they could get relatively easily. But not knowing what the problem was, giving Wyatt drugs carried more risks than benefits. “Jesus Christ,” Julie said, glancing back at Wyatt. “This is really creeping me out.”

After a few moments of thought, Julie suggested involving Wyatt in something that would provide a distraction.

“Why don’t you take him down to the lake?” Julie suggested.

“Spend a little guy time with him.”

“Yeah,” Marty replied. “I think the firewood can wait awhile.”

So, as Julie looked on, Marty walks over to Wyatt and crouching down and nearly eye level, spoke to him with a playful tone.

“Wyatt, what do you see out there?” he asked. Wyatt’s head turned slightly as he made eye contact with Marty.

The intensity of his expression went unchanged as his gaze moved back to the woods.

Marty looked back at Julie with uncertainty, as he searched himself for any other ideas on how to tear Wyatt’s eyes from the trees. It was at that moment he was struck with an idea.

“Hey,” he said. “Do you know how to skip a stone?” Wyatt’s intensity suddenly turned to curiosity. Marty looked at him with playful surprise. “You don’t know how to skip a stone?” he asked. “Well, we’re going to have to do something about that right now.”

He picked Wyatt up and lifting him onto his shoulders, started down to the lake. Glancing back at Julie, he called, “Hold down the fort. We’ll be back in about twenty minutes.”

As they made their way down to the lake, Marty decided he would not go as far as Tessa’s grave, thinking it was time for Wyatt to begin the process of moving on. But on the way down the road, Wyatt again turned back towards the woods as his face returned to its former intensity. Once at the lake, Marty let Wyatt down near a small patch of pebbles. “Now, this is something everyone needs to know,” he said. “How to skip a stone.”

He picked up a flat, quarter sized stone and pointed out the shape that would allow it to skip across the surface of the lake. As he patiently demonstrated the proper technique of applying the correct spin, Wyatt suddenly turned away, staring piercingly back towards camp.

“Wyatt?” Marty inquired. “What is it?” Wyatt’s only response was to raise an arm and point back to the RV. Marty still had no idea what Wyatt was thinking, but his instincts told him that something was terribly wrong.

“Why don’t we go back to camp, okay?” He took Wyatt by the hand and as they made those first few steps, a scream was heard coming from the direction of the RV. In a state of panic, Marty scooped Wyatt up and ran toward camp. Once arriving, he lowered Wyatt to the ground and quickly searched the camp. Julie was nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, Wyatt had walked to the front of the RV and with the same look of intensity chiseled on his face, pointed into the heavy stand of pines. Marty was still at a loss to explain his behavior. But by this time, he had come to trust it.

Another slightly distant scream emanated from the woods. Marty’s reaction was swift and urgent, picking Wyatt up and putting him in the RV. “Wyatt, this is really important,” he began. “I’m going to lock the doors, okay? I want you to go to the back bedroom and find a place to hide. I’ll be right back, I promise, alright?”

Wyatt’s response was mute and his expression was still one of deep concern. Marty grabbed the keys from the ignition and his nine millimeter from under the driver’s seat. Locking both doors, he left Wyatt in the RV and ran into the woods.

“Julie!” he yelled.

After a moment of silence, he was answered by a scream that called out to him by name. The woods can sometimes seem to have a mind of its own, moving sounds around trees and hills at will. But Marty’s training gave him the edge of a finely tuned sense of direction. His body took flight like a diving hawk, led by his intuition and determination to bring Julie back unharmed. By whatever means necessary. As the adrenaline tumbled through his body, Marty’s perceptions underwent an unusual change. He no longer experienced himself moving through space, but experienced space moving around him.

Soon, his eyes found something in the woods they clearly did not belong. Running like a hunted deer, he approached as the ghastly scene played out, with Julie lying on her back. Between them, a middle-aged man with short black hair knelt on the ground at Julie’s hip. He turned back towards Marty with a wild-eyed look, got to his feet, and began running. Marty’s first concern was Julie, and dropping to his knees, was horrified to discover that the man he would soon pursue had begun the painful process of disemboweling her. This was the clumsy work of someone driven deeply into an isolation induced madness. Acting out with no rhyme or reason. Julie’s clothes were soaked with blood as her color became grimmer by moment and with very few large vessels having been breached, she somehow remained with her consciousness intact, albeit slipping rapidly.

He cradled her head in his hand while laying his nine millimeter at his knee.

“Julie?” he said. “Come on, stay with me, please.” She opened her eyes and from beneath the heavy fog of shock, whispered to him what would be her dying words.

“Hey,” she replied.

Her words came out with the softness of a bird’s breath as she struggled to maintain awareness. “I’m sorry.”

Marty’s eyes began to tear up as he moved his free hand under her neck. He kissed her on the forehead and attempted to minimize the severity of her wounds.

“Listen to me,” he continued. “I’ll get you back to the RV and get you patched up. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Julie smiled and quietly pointed out the obviousness of his well-intentioned lie.

“You’re a bad liar,” she whispered. Her remaining strength was rapidly fading as she tried her best to continue.

“Take care of Wyatt. You’re a daddy now.” Marty began crying, knowing he would soon lose Julie forever.

“Please, don’t leave me,” he begged. “We both need you.”

As her last bit of strength failed, Julie’s lips silently conveyed her love to him. Moments later, she was dead, her soul rising up from her broken body and drifting off like a leaf caught in a cool autumn breeze. In a sudden state of tearful rage, Marty picked up his gun and got to his feet. He was prepared to hunt down the person who senselessly stole Julie from him. But before beginning his pursuit, Marty’s attention was drawn to a small object on the ground, between Julie’s knees. Picking it up, he noticed the familiar shape of the number seven, wrapped with a coil of thin copper wire. In less than a heartbeat, Marty recalled the conversation aboard the Stellar Storm regarding their thoughts on having children. Julie’s killer had dug deep enough to dislodge her IUD. In a blind, furious rage, Marty dropped the device to the ground as he launched himself through the woods.

He moved effortlessly around trees and over rocks. Anything that stood in his way was easily overcome by adrenaline soaked muscles and a hyper reactive mind. The distance that would have taken more than a few minutes to travel seemed like mere moments. Physically unfazed by the speed of his pursuit, Marty quickly encountered the familiar sight of the dark-haired man responsible for Julie’s brutal demise. He was sitting on the ground, his back against a tree and his ankle badly broken. Stopping directly in front of him, Marty aimed his nine millimeter at his head. “Why?!” he screamed.

He had already decided to kill the man, but what he wanted now was an answer.

“Why?” the man answered.

He casually lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply while making eye contact with Marty.

“So,” he continued. “Is that your girlfriend, huh?” His attitude was tauntingly cavalier. “Yeah. Well, I was going to fuck her first, but I guess I got a little carried away. My bad. Maybe next time.” He paused as he continued smoking. Marty pulled the hammer back on his pistol and, again, demanded an explanation.

“Oh, right,” the man replied. “You want to know why, don’t you? Well, why the fuck not?” He spoke with a teasing grin, as though he were the devil himself, sent with the sole purpose of tormenting Marty personally.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, kid. But things are a lot different. We can do whatever we want. If I want to kill someone, I’ll fuckin’ kill them. There’s no one to stop me. Now, how’s that for an answer?” The man gave a toothy smile and took another drag on his cigarette.

“So, what now?” he asked. “You going to use that thing or are you just going to stand there with your finger up your ass?”

The man’s arrogance only added to Marty’s anger, but he wouldn’t kill him right away. He intended to cause him as much pain as possible first. “Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you?!” Marty screamed.

“Yeah,” the man answered. “You’re going to kill me. I figured that out already. But tell me something. How’s that kid? Must be a shame, not being able to speak.”

His question caught Marty off guard. “What are you talking about?” Marty asked. The man grinned again, still offering no answer. In an attempt to be persuasive, Marty fired a single shot into the man’s testicles. The pain forced him over on his side, but his grinning face remained unchanged. “You’re wasting time,” he said. “You’ve already got a dead girlfriend. If anything ever happened to that kid, you’d never be able to live with yourself, would you? You still blame yourself for what happened to Luke, don’t you?”

Marty’s mind was momentarily stunned by something that was clearly impossible. How could he possibly know about Luke? Now, the time for questions and answers was over. The only thing that mattered now was protecting Wyatt. And Marty was determined to accomplish this, even at the expense of the lives of others.

“You’re wasting time, asshole,” the man said. His smile had gone from arrogant to cruel as the pain of his wound begin to overwhelm him. Marty now assumed the man had been watching them for days and probably overheard Luke’s name during conversation. There was no other rational answer. “You’re right,” Marty said. “I’m wasting time.” Marty calmly took aim at the man’s head and squeezed the trigger. Whoever he was, he would never hurt anyone again. And leaving the ground behind him littered with blood, brain matter and skull fragments, Marty stood momentarily, looking on him with disgust. However, in the next moment, he realized how long he’d been gone. And turning away from yet another gruesome scene began running back to the RV. He wasn’t sure if the man had been taunting him or offering a warning. Either way, he knew he’d left Wyatt alone far too long. Returning to camp, he found the RV’s underside ablaze. It appeared that the firewood he had collected earlier had been pushed under it and set on fire.

The driver’s door was blocked by a growing wave of blistering heat. While fumbling through his pockets, Marty ran to the passenger’s door and bringing out his keys, unlocked it, climbed into the RV, and began searching for Wyatt. He remembered telling him to go into the back bedroom. However, as he entered the RV, he discovered the air had been replaced by a thick layer of smoke. And the throwing himself to the floor crawled to the back bedroom where he found Wyatt curled up in a corner.

“Wyatt!” he yelled. “We have to leave!” Wyatt was paralyzed with fear, forcing Marty to carry him out of the RV. With Wyatt in his arms, he ran into the woods and taking cover behind a large pine tree, looked back to see the RV completely swallowed up by the fire. Its metal walls popped and groaned as they warped under the increasing heat of the inferno, that very much appeared to have been intentionally set. Marty hoped he might have the chance to go back and salvage one or two things from the burning wreck. But the fire burned hot enough to raise a steam of moisture from several yards of ground around it.

The RV and everything in it was lost. Soon to become a charred heap of unrecognizable ash, mixed with molten bits of plastic and metal. Suspecting the dark-haired man now lying dead in the woods probably did not act alone; he took Wyatt and continued running through the woods. Because of the risks of returning, Marty was unable to recover Julie’s body. She was now resigned to the process nature had prescribed to all things once living. Yet, this was not something Marty gave conscious thought to at the time. His immediate concern was getting Wyatt as far from harm as possible. Even if he could not save himself, he would somehow find a way to ensure Wyatt’s safety. Following up the stream, Marty carried Wyatt for several miles before stopping to rest.

He sat down with Wyatt still in his arms the base of a large pine tree. He scanned the woods behind them and concluded they had not been followed. Letting Wyatt down to the ground next to them, he allowed himself to recover.

“We have to sit here for a while, okay?” he said. His breathing was deep and rapid. His muscles tired and cramping. Wyatt picked at the ground beneath him as Marty sat back, trying to recharge himself. He stood up and motioned to Wyatt.

“Alright, come on,” he began. “We need to keep moving.”

He reached down and picking up Wyatt again, resumed their course. The only thing Marty knew of the area was that they were going north. And for now, it was enough for him to know that he would not be walking in circles. After another three or four miles, they encountered a broad clearing, fractured by a dirt road.

Scanning the unfamiliar expanse, he noticed a dot of color next to the road as it narrowed into the distance. “Wyatt,” he began. “I think we just caught a break.” With Wyatt still in his arms, he walked cautiously up to what turned out to be a small farmhouse. Stopping at a safe distance, he looked closely at the windows for any movement. He suspected that anyone living in such an isolated area may have escaped the infection and might be able to help them. Certainly, they would endear themselves to the needs of a child.

The home was of rustic design and as Marty approached it, found a red pickup truck parked in the dirt driveway. Immediately, he noticed how quiet it was and examining the property arrived at the conclusion that it was, in fact, a working farm. However, it was oddly devoid of the sounds typical of a farm. Cows, pigs, chickens and other livestock had, for some reason, fallen silent, but upon closer inspection, he discovered that many of the farm’s animals were dead. He thought that, perhaps, the farms human occupants had not been so fortunate after all. He set Wyatt down near the truck and quietly approached the open front door. But before he could get close enough to knock, a wave of decomposition struck him squarely in the face, driving him back from the door and down to the driveway. This left him with no doubt that those who lived in the isolated country home lived no longer. They had failed to separate themselves from those who spread the infection that had burned its way around the planet and likely started in a makeshift laboratory, funded by political ideology, hate and madness. Driven to the point of nausea, Marty stumbled back to the pickup truck. He had nearly forgotten that particular smell and was surprised at the intensity of his reaction.

But he recovered quickly and taking Wyatt by the hand, walked around the front of the pickup truck. He searched through the driver’s window and discovered it to be unoccupied.

With their escape at hand, the last thing Marty wanted to find was that the truck was occupied by the soupy remains of the unfortunate dead. His breathed a sigh of relief, having found the truck’s cab empty. He looked around again as he tried the door. He was not accustomed to the idea of stealing, but it was apparent that the truck’s owners were in no condition to make use of it. And as luck would have it, the door was unlocked and opened easily. He picked up Wyatt, and setting him on the driver’s seat, instructed him to move over onto the passenger seat. “Okay, Wyatt,” he began quietly. “We’re going to borrow these nice peoples truck for a while, alright?” Wyatt continued in his silence, with only a wide-eyed expression of fear to speak for him. Marty had made the assumption that because the truck had been left unlocked, the keys would be left as well. But, to his disappointment, they had been removed, and he had no desire to search the house for them. “Damn!” he cursed.

Bending down next to the wheel, Marty reached under the dash and fished for the fuse box. Rearranging some wires brought the engine to life as he touched the gas.

“Thank you, Luke,” he said to no one in particular.

He put the truck in gear, backing out of the driveway and onto the dirt road. Driving a few miles north, the dirt road turned to asphalt, causing the tires to meet the road with a quiet, continuous hum. Soon, the pine trees of the woods were replaced by maples and oaks, reaching their limbs out over the road. Sheltering the country pavement from the blazing early summer sun. Marty was trying, with great difficulty, not to think about the circumstances that brought his life to such a tragic place. Instead, he consciously began to piece together a plan for getting back on track to his destination. This would mean starting over. He would have to acquire a more livable means of travel. Food, clothes, water and other necessities. As they made their escape, Marty’s attention was drawn to a blinking digital display near the middle of the dashboard. Upon closer inspection he found the truck’s CD player held a single disc. Maybe it was out of habit, but Marty reached out and pushed the play button. What followed sent a soul splitting bolt of emotional lightning that would forever etch itself into his brain.

The song was ‘Ava Maria’. It poured from the speakers and into his ears as the gentle singing of a single angelic voice filled the cab. He was generally not a fan of classical music, much less opera. Yet, there was something about its drifting melody that pulled him into a reality where there was only this single piece of music. He recognized the language as German, although he didn’t understand a word of it. But one does not necessarily need to know the language to feel the emotional power among its notes and as Marty became lost in the music, his emotions began to rise to the surface. He’d seen a great deal of tragedy.

He’d been a witness to the deaths of millions and the slaughter of an entire world. He’d felt the pain of losing Luke and the agony of pushing a knife into the body of a dead baby and cutting Tessa’s body down from the tree she had hung herself from. Now, Julie. She was the only woman he had ever truly loved; the only person he’d ever bared his soul to.

The bubbling fourth of emotions forced him over to the side of the road, where he stopped and continued to absorb the graceful notes casting themselves adrift into the air. Wyatt looked up at him wonderingly as the wall holding back his pain cracked, crumbled and fell, followed by a torrent of uncontrolled weeping. The world had finally come to an end. Or, at least, his. He fell forward and leaned his head against the top of the steering wheel, where in a fit of anger and grief, began pounding his forehead. Wyatt reached over during his emotional outpouring and placed a small comforting hand on his leg. For a moment, Marty had forgotten that Wyatt was there at all, having become caught up his own emotional wreckage. With his hands still on the steering wheel, Marty looked down at him through tear-filled eyes. And in an effort to minimize his emotional upset, he forced a smile, wanting to give Wyatt the impression that things were not as bad as they actually were. As Marty made eye contact with him, he was struck by an overwhelming sense of shock as Wyatt broke his trauma induced silence.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he said in a meek voice. “I promise.”

Marty was stunned as he tried to absorb those few words that, coming from someone so young and muted by trauma, sounded almost profound. He had heard these words before, aboard the Stellar Storm after losing Luke to a predatory sea as Julie tried to comfort him. He’d even spoken the same words to Luke, back in Los Angeles after witnessing the pyre at County hospital.

Everything seemed to come full circle as Marty once again traveled with someone who was young, inexperienced, and completely dependent on him. But the song was over and as he steered the truck back onto the road, he thought about the places he had been and how far he had been willing to go to find safe shelter. However, there was one thing he had never considered. He didn’t need to cross an ocean or travel the byways of the country to find a peaceful haven. Yes, sometimes safety had to be found elsewhere, but true peace, of both mind and soul, can only be found within. Eventually, they would arrive at the small city of Johnstown, taking up occupancy in the house on the Hill of South Williams Street, where Marty’s parents once lived. But he would never let his guard down again and would continue to protect Wyatt, rebuilding the barrier that would forever stand between him and ‘any’ possibility of the pain he had somehow managed to live through. Yet, without the risk of feeling pain, life becomes devoid of the reason for living it.

As time went by, there were others. And although few, Marty refused to take the risk inherent in carrying the weight of responsibility for anyone but Wyatt. His soul could simply not bear it. He would sit at night, feeling Julie’s ghost drifting around him, whispering in his ear. He missed her so much and would readily give up his own life to bring hers back. Back in Los Angeles, the survival plan he created accounted for everything, down to the last detail. However, no plan, however well-crafted can ever account for a heart rendered to ash by the outstretched hand of pain and loss.

 

End