Our whole society had evolved to a point where it couldn’t possibly function or produce literally anything unless all of the workers involved in the entire supply chain, from digging material out of the Earth to putting wrapped packages on shelves, specialized in a microscopic portion of that entire process. Our world was such that manufacturing a single shoelace required an infrastructure and support network of thousands of people and interlocking parts all playing together nicely, all knowing their unique little piece of the puzzle and ignoring the details in any process not related directly to their own. We thrived through the process of extreme micro delegation.
And then the Plague came along and wiped out nearly all of the people who played a part in every process imaginable. As a species, we were back to digging insects out of the dirt with sticks.
Or, at least, we would be just as soon as all the “stuff” ran out. Everything we had—every item we scavenged; that was the last of that item that would ever be manufactured. Once exhausted, there was one less of that widget in the universe, never to be replaced. Any kind of comfort we could derive had an expiration date, and that date was imminent.
Contemplating this, I felt utterly defeated. Finally, I said, “To what end? What would be the point, honestly?”
As an answer, Billy pointed over at Elizabeth, who was sitting quietly in a chair by herself and sipping from a bottle of water. “Life,” he said, simply. “To rebuild. To thrive.” He took a long drink of water himself. “Look, I get that the universe doesn’t exactly give a damn about what happens and that this year has proven to be one elaborate illustration of that fact, but honestly? We’re still here. This was supposed to be our mass extinction event just like the dinosaurs had all those millions of years ago. We should all be dead and gone now, but some of us aren’t. I believe that means something. I know I’m certainly not ready to go yet. There’s more life to be had for those of us with the resolve to just… try.”
I looked at Lizzy and knew he was right. Even so, I thought of what lay ahead in the coming years and felt exhausted just to contemplate it all. “There’s so much to do,” I said.
“Don’t think about it all at once,” Billy said. “If you do that, you’ll never get anything done; you’ll just freeze in place. Just think about the next thing you have to do. There’s always one more thing that needs to be fixed. One more problem to be solved. I can think of a few right now.”
“Such as?” I asked.
“Well, we gotta solve getting that damned truck loaded up,” he said, waving in the general direction of the Dodge. The poor guy was looking pretty well spent. I walked up next to him and grabbed a duffel bag that we had stuffed full of dried goods, canned food, and the few remaining MREs. I grabbed it, hauled it over to the truck bed, and stashed it among the plastic bins and other items.
I turned and looked back at him. “What next?”
He was smiling at me. “Load up the rest of this here, I guess, and I’ll go through the site and see if we forgot anything.”
“Stay out of the rear camper,” I advised. I had left things badly in there.
He had frozen halfway to standing up. “Hadn’t planned on looking there. Nothing in there anyone needs.” He straightened up with a groan and walked off.
I turned back and saw Jake, who was also watching Billy make his way toward the leading RV. He stood there thinking his own hidden thoughts.
“What about you?” I asked. “You’re going to Wyoming to start over, too?”
“Billy helped me to get somewhere. Stayed with me when he didn’t have to. When he maybe shouldn’t have. I’m going to help him get to Wyoming.”
“You’re not staying once we get there?”
“We?” he asked. He gave me what passed for a Jake smile: slightly raised eyebrows. “You’ve decided you’ll join us, then?”
“Don’t deflect. You won’t stay?”
He became very quiet and still. Just when I thought he wouldn’t say anything at all, he finally answered. “Hadn’t thought about it. I’m only thinking as far ahead as the next problem, see?”
We finished loading up the truck and made ready to depart right around sunset. We weren’t planning on going very far, but we all agreed that spending the night by the motorhomes was out of the question; we didn’t even have to discuss it.
“Why don’t you guys ride in the truck with Jake, huh?” Billy said. “There’re only the two seats in the van, and I can’t imagine you want to be apart from your daughter. Truck has a quad cab. Nice and roomy.”
“Umm, okay…” I said, not excited about riding with Jake. Rather than saying anything, Jake just nodded and walked to the driver side of the truck. He got in, shut the door, and then sat there facing forward. Waiting.
“You sure you don’t feel like driving the truck?” I asked, looking over at the back of Jake’s head.
“Well… uh, you see, the truck has a manual tranny,” Billy grinned sheepishly. “Never learned.” He shrugged and made his way to the van.
“Of course,” I sighed. “C’mon, Mija. Let’s hit it.” Lizzy jumped into the back of the truck, and I climbed into the front passenger’s side. As I was situating myself and arranging the seat belt, Jake reached up and turned on the dome light.
“Elizabeth, if you look around back there you should see a backpack. Look around in it; you may find some books that you like.”
There came the sound of rummaging in the back. I looked back at her and saw her pulling several small books out of a bag. Craning my neck further, I saw titles like Junie B. Jones, Olivia, Charlotte’s Web, and the like. “Some of those are pretty good,” he said. “You may enjoy them.”
Lizzy reached forward into the front seat and actually patted him on the shoulder, which floored me. “Thank you, Jake,” she said in a tiny voice.
“Welcome,” he replied. He turned off the front dome light and then reached back and turned hers on for her. “You go ahead and leave the light on. Doesn’t bother me.”
“Where…” I struggled to find words. “Where did you get a bunch of kid’s books?”
“Picked them up a few towns back.” He glanced in my direction; looked back out the front windshield. He started up the engine, put it into first, and gave a short rap on the horn to let Billy know he was ready to go.
“Jake.”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you, Jake.”
He shifted into second as we got onto the road.
“Welcome.”
When we finally stopped for the night, it was only a little further up the 15. Billy found a spot that he liked the look of and pulled off the road. He led us away for a good distance; less than a mile but far enough that anyone passing by would miss us in the dark. The men both had their own tents that they set up outside. When Jake was finished with his, he came back to the truck and offered to let us take it. Sleeping out in a tent felt a little too exposed for me so I thanked him but said we’d stay in the truck. I would get over this inhibition later on, certainly, but at this point, I wasn’t very long out of civilization.