“Thank you, ma’am,” Mick said. “That is very kind of you. We’ll enjoy it.”
She produced a sad smile. “It’s good… good to see children with a grownup. Are they your children? Or did you find them?”
“They’re my sons.”
She pursed her lips as if she held back tears. “That’s wonderful and finally nice to see. I’ll let you get settled. If you need anything, just ask anyone here. We’re all pretty tight.”
“I will, thank you.”
She cleared her throat, ran her hand over Tigger’s head, folded her arms tight to her body and walked off.
Chris nudged into Mick and peeked at the plate. “What did she make?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Mick told him. “We’re eating it. Gonna be polite.”
“Don’t you think that was an odd thing to ask?” Chris questioned. “You know, about us being yours?”
Mick tilted his head. “I guess it is.”
“Man, you have to wonder how many kids there are without parents for her to greet us like that.” After a sigh, Chris took the plate. “Come on, Tig, let’s eat before Mick eats this all. You know how big his stomach is.”
Mick didn’t say anything. In fact, the plate slipped from his hand without him noticing. He heard what Chris said and then he saw a child, then another. Four or five sat across the campsite; another small group was on the playground area.
Where were all the adults? Mick spotted maybe two more. They had to be inside.
No sooner did Mick have that thought when he had another: Oh my God, the children.
He had never thought beyond the walls of Lodi. It never crossed his mind that there would be countless children left without parents, not just parents who lost a child.
A ‘snap’ of the fire snapped Mick from his thoughts. However, the thoughts of children alone stayed with him through the course of the day and as he watched his own son, Chris, looking so lost.
“You okay?” Mick asked.
“Yeah,” Chris said. “Just thinking.”
Mick reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his phone that he had charged in the truck and he powered it up. He wasn’t a making a phone call. Cell phones had gone down. He was using it for a fix. A Dylan and Dustin fix.
There were 875 pictures on his phone and close to a hundred videos. Mick was grateful for each and every one. But he guessed one day, that number would be small. Because to make up for a lifetime lost, 1000 images just would never be enough.
“What are you doing?” Chris asked as he sat down next to him.
“I need to see your mom and brother,” Mick said softly.
Chris’ breath shivered loudly. “Me, too. Can I…can look with you?”
“Without a doubt.”
Chris moved closer, right next to him. Mick brought his arm around the boy, bringing him close and huddling in to share the phone.
Chris rested his head against Mick. “Mick, you think we’ll ever feel normal again?”
“I think that’s a pretty tough question to answer. I think that time will ease some of the pain. It’ll never be like it used to be. But I think we’ll get used to feeling a hint of pain and then that will become the new normal.”
After a pause, Chris said, “That wasn’t very helpful.”
“It’s the best I can do.”
“I’ll take it.”
Mick gently kissed the top of Chris’ head and together, slowly, they looked through the pictures.
Arcata, California
Before Lexi Martin was educated at the University of Pittsburgh School of Medicine, she was educated on the streets of Detroit, Michigan. That alone, she believed, would be the schooling she needed for what was ahead. More so than any other education she had received.
Her father lost his job at the plant, her mother worked as a waitress and sales clerk, and Lexi dropped out of high school at fifteen to work under the table for the Lees at their dry cleaning business. Eventually she got her GED, went to community college, then a local university, scoring highest in her class before getting accepted into Pitt.
That was quite an accomplishment.
While most med students were about the age of 27 when they did their internships, Lexi was already well into her thirties.
She scored high and did remarkably well. She had all intentions of returning to Detroit, working at a clinic, and giving back to her community. But on a whim, she applied at the Centers for Disease Control, and was surprised when she got the position of field doctor.
Even five years at the CDC didn’t prepare her for the field of death she faced when the flu brought an end to life as she knew it. She was sent to Anchorage, Alaska, and Anchorage was the first major city in the United States to die out.
Watching what this particular strain of the flu did make Lexi grateful she’d never taken the time to have children.
She prayed and hoped that elsewhere it wouldn’t be so bad. The flu started in Alaska. An accident at a lab facility embedded deep in the wilderness would have — should have — been contained, but a local Eskimo barter carried not only the good but also the germ to a neighboring village.
It had spread through the villages, and continued to spread throughout the population because of two men. One of them beat the flu; the other, Lexi heard he had died.
One man, Bill Daniels, lost his fiancé and had no other family. When the flu was all said and done in Anchorage, Bill had left with Lexi, being a helping hand in any way he could. News had reached them that the flu was now a worldwide pandemic, and the CDC moved Lexi to California. For one month, she and Bill moved to three different small towns. The last of which, Arcata, held on tight until the first week of October, then most of them died.
The former population of 18,000 was now maybe… population 1,500. Maybe.
Most of the people of Arcata were struggling with how they could survive. They were in a good position for fishing, but were still reeling from their losses and not thinking properly.
Taking in their final California sunset, Lexi shared a package of peanut butter crackers with Bill as they sat on the beach. It was probably the last fresh pack for a very long time.
“Last radio contact,” Lexi said, “the last two remaining CDC men were heading to Lodi.”
“You think they did?” Bill asked.
“If Kurt said they did, they did.” Lexi smiled. “He was a good man to work for at the CDC.”
Bill reached for the bottle of whiskey they had dug into the sand. “When was it we last heard that broadcast?”
“Six days ago.” Lexi nodded at Bill’s silent offer to refresh her glass. “I can only assume that the president is still trying. And I think that town he mentioned is Lodi.”
Bill downed a quick drink and poured another. “We could stay here.”
“I know,” Lexi said. “And I know the people here may be sad to see us go. But we’ve been ready to go for two weeks. Packed, planned and ready.” She sipped her drink. “More than heading to Lodi, I think I need to see what’s left of this country.”
Bill choked out a laugh.
“What?” she questioned.
“A little post-apocalypse sightseeing?”
“Well when you put it like that…” Lexi shook her head. “Yeah, I guess. Aren’t you curious?”
“I’m very curious. Could be dangerous.”
“I know. But I feel safe with our plan. I feel safe with you.” She stared at him.
“I appreciate that.” Bill lifted his glass to hers. “Then we go. We’ll leave tomorrow, first thing.”
Lexi clicked her glass to his, took a drink, then she sank into thoughts of the journey ahead, while watching the rest of the sunset with Bill.