Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

The desert stretched before them, boundless and bleak. The children stood at its edge, noticeably thinner and darker, staring at the expanse that awaited them. The boys' hairs had grown past their eyes, and their faces were peeled to a red rawness by the wind and the sun. Katie removed the scarf that had covered her nose and mouth, and her lips were cracked and hardened black by blood.

They had lost count of the number of days they had been on the highway. Time was measured only in the jugs of water remaining and the number of steps still to take.

Each carried a weapon. Isaac held a broomstick with the chef's knife fixed to one end with screws and electrical tape. Katie kept the shotgun slung to her back with a strip of cloth. And Simon had the meat cleaver hanging from the right side of his belt.

They could see nothing but rust colored dirt between them and where the road disappeared into the horizon. They couldn't turn back. It was too late for that now. And nothing was behind them they could return to anyway.

Isaac adjusted the rope harness around his shoulders that was attached to the handle of the red wagon behind him. It was stacked high with their supplies, which was covered with a tarp and duct taped in place. The wagon was more weathered with dents and scrapes, but still with the rhythmic squeaks of the white-rimmed tires, which were the only sounds in the thickness of the heat as the children started down the highway.

Isaac's chest tightened as he felt the onset of his asthma. He rolled to his left where Simon was snoring softly, and at the other end of the blanket was Katie, who was sleeping with her knees curled to her chest.

Isaac had just awakened from a dream, one that he had had on several occasions. On a dark, overcast day, he would see a large home with sharp gothic roofs on the brink of a seaside cliff with waves crashing below, and lightning would flash and illuminate in silver the frothing clouds of an approaching storm. A girl with gray hair would be standing near the edge of the cliff, weeping softly and shedding tears of blood. As he approached, she would turn to him.

"He's waiting for you," she would say, turning her head to the front door.

Isaac would step onto the porch and enter the house. In the living room, children played with toys on the floor. From the kitchen came the voices of adults and their laughter.

Isaac would go to the stairs and look to the head where the girl with the bleeding eyes would be beckoning. He would climb the steps and walk past her, down a darkened hallway, brushing his hand against the walls, which felt cold and scaly. He would come to an opened door, and inside, he would see an old man sitting on a wooden chair, staring out at the stormy sea as the rain shelled the window. He had long white hair down to his back, and his pale hands gripped the arm of the chair lightly.

As Isaac approached, the old man's head would turn toward him, almost imperceptibly, but Isaac could not see his face, and as he got closer, the man would turn towards him, and Isaac would awaken.

It had always left him feeling uneasy. But this early morning, as the vestige of the dream lingered, he felt more tense.

It's just the asthma. Nothing else.

He pushed aside the corner of the tarp that was covering the three of them, and he arose. They were in a ditch, concealed by dead branches and leaves of desert weeds, which they had laid over themselves. It was still dark and cold, and the night sky was speckled with stars. Isaac took a deep breath to open his lungs and smelled the earth and sage. The asthma wasn't full-blown, and soon, he was able to breathe freely again.

He glanced at the highway, which was a few hundred paces from where they were and watched for headlights, which had become his habit. He glanced behind him and saw ashen light spread over the mountains, and he knew that they would have several miles of walking before the heat of midday settled upon them. If they had not reached their destination, they would have to find some secluded bush away from the highway, and if no shade was in sight, they would erect the tarp to shield themselves from the sun.

They had seen a sign - Rest Area 20 miles. But this had been two days ago, and they had seen no other sign since then. They had been following the highway all the while but in the distance, it curved over a rise, into the heart of jagged hills, making it impossible to see what lay beyond. It had seemed to Isaac that the hill was just a little ahead, a little more walking and they would be standing at the top. They had tread deep into the night until they could move no more, but the hill remained elusive, like chasing down a mirage.

They had perhaps one day of water left. They had to reach the rest area soon and hope that the water would still be running. Isaac roused his brother and Katie, and they packed up their meager belongings. They took a few sips from a jug, shared a nutritional bar, and headed towards the highway.

It was past midday, but they were not yet at the top of the hill. They walked up the asphalt road, which stuck to the bottom of the shoes with each step, and the black tar smelled primordial, a thing seeping from the convolutions of some decomposing memory.

The rest area is just over this hill. It has to be.

But at the crest, the highway did not descend like Isaac had anticipated but snaked deeper through the hills. The children got off the road and found shade. They sat down and cried and tended to their bloodied feet, and when dusk neared, they packed up their belongings and followed the highway toward the reddening sky.

It took them another day of travel, through the heat and the silence that hung in the air, but they finally saw the rest area at the bottom of the hill. It consisted of two octogonal concrete structures with red tile roofs. The parking lot was empty, and off to the side was a gazebo with a cluster of concrete tables and benches.

The children had not felt joy when they saw it, for they knew that the rest area meant a few more days of life, but that was all. The water would run out eventually, and they would once again be wondering if they would live to see the next day.

They drank deeply from the fountain, letting the water open up their throats and wash away the dust until their stomachs were full. In the bathrooms, they rinsed away the days of grime from their skins and refilled the water jugs, and afterward, they headed towards the gazebo to take shelter from the unrelenting heat. They sat down on the warm benches and lay their heads on the tables for a moment of rest when they heard the sound. It was faint and metallic, both familiar and unnerving like hearing laughter in the dead of night.

The children grabbed their weapons and hid behind the benches and watched as a figure came towards them on the highway, an amorphous stain like the remnants of a feverish dream, disjointed and impermanent. Then they saw them. A girl, perhaps Simon's age, pushed a shopping cart that came up to her chin. She had short, uneven hair and wore a brown sleeveless dress, and around her bare feet were tar-covered rags. Inside the shopping cart was a young boy who appeared to be no more than three or four years of age. He was in diapers and nothing else, and his head rested against the cart, his eyes half-closed and barren, and his skin a burnt map of the days past.

The shopping cart rattled as the girl pushed on, and her gaze never left a fixed point in the distance. Her breaths were shallow and halting, and her steps uncertain. They had no supplies with them, no food nor water, but she seemed unaware or uncaring of the rest area nearby.

Isaac, Simon, and Katie rose from behind the benches, headed to the highway's edge, and watched the girl push the cart with the boy down the road. They were the only other people the children had seen since it had all begun.

"Hey!" Isaac called to her. "There's nothing for you where you're headed! Come with us!"

The girl stopped and turned to them, some fifty paces away. She didn't seem surprised by their presence. She only blinked and stared at a point far beyond the horizon, while the little boy stayed motionless.

"Did you hear me?" said Isaac. "There's nothing for you where you're headed! You have to come with us!"

She glanced up at the sun for a moment and back to Isaac.

"There are bad things waiting for you down that road," she said. "Bad, bad things."

She turned and resumed her journey toward the hills.

Isaac stood in silence then called out to her again.

"We have water!" he said. "You're going to die if you go down that way! Do you hear me? There's nothing for you there! You're going to die!"

But the girl did not stop, and the children watched as she and the boy blurred and disappeared into the maw of the desert.