Silent Interruption (Book 3): An Uncertain Passage Read online

  “I know, but it’s not the same right now.”

  “Because he’s not well? Sure, things are going to be different, but he’s still the same man you love. Why aren’t you with him right now?”

  Tara grimaced. “I… I guess I should be. I’ve just been busy keeping watch, helping with the burial…”

  “And keeping away from him. Am I right?” Alicia asked.

  “Alicia, you know he could be triggered by anything,” Tara said. “I can’t show him what happened today. I can’t even talk to him about it.”

  “And so he can’t comfort you, help you out, do what he usually would do if he was okay upstairs. How about giving it a try? He responds to you. Cutting him off makes it harder for him to heal.”

  Tara scooted a little closer to Alicia. “You think so?”

  “Love is one of those things that a big electromagnetic pulse can’t take away from us. Lorenzo and I know that. Maybe you should understand that too.”

  Tara looked down at her right leg. It had been injured in the flight from the strip mall and it wasn’t until yesterday that she could take the bandage off the wound. “I guess it’s hard to think about love when everything around you has gone so bad.”

  “Give it a try.” Alicia scooted a little closer. “Now go to him. Quit talking to me unless you want me to give you some tips to spice up things in the sack.”

  Tara shook her head. “No.” She rose to her feet, then helped Alicia up. “No, I think I’m going to go check out Michael. Thanks for the talk.”

  “No problem.” Then Alicia turned to the hill. “Now, I better get back to Lorenzo.” She smiled devilishly. “I feel my second wind coming on.”

  Tara shook her head. “Alicia, please try to keep it down. We do have children with us, and even if they know about the birds and the bees, I don’t want to give them the Cinemax version.”

  Alicia narrowed her eyes. “What can I say, Tara? I’m one naughty woman.” Then, with a hearty giggle, she retreated behind the hill. “Lorenzo,” she called out.

  Tara cringed a little, but then she laughed softly as she turned from the hill. The Farrell couple may be a little intense with their intimacy, but they clearly loved each other. More than that, they drew strength from each other. Lorenzo helped Alicia get through the tough times, and no doubt Alicia gave her husband joy to spare.

  Tara quickly walked back through the camp to find Michael.

  Michael sat on the ground, propped up against a bundle of backpacks, licking his lips from the last bites of his meal. Rupert sat with him, head slumped slightly, bags under his eyes. As Tara approached, she could tell Rupert was exhausted.

  “Hey.” Tara leaned over Rupert. “You look like you’ve been run over by a bus.”

  Rupert rubbed his face. “More like a freight train.”

  Tara looked over to Michael. “How’s he doing?”

  Rupert followed Tara’s gaze. “He’s been sitting around most of the day. He took a nap. Later, he got up to use the bathroom. He just finished eating. Most of the time he seems to be daydreaming. Maybe it’s just me, but I think the gears in his head are turning a little more than we think.”

  Tara took a look at Michael. Perhaps Rupert was right, and she was underestimating him. She hadn’t spoken to him a lot during the trek from the suburbs. No, scratch that. She had talked to him quite a lot before his freakout, but even that was pretty banal, asking him what he thought of the houses or the trees nearby. She didn’t try to connect with him.

  “How about you leave Michael to me tonight? You need to get some sleep.” Tara rolled her eyes. “If any of us can sleep.”

  Rupert nodded. “Thanks.” He climbed to his feet but nearly fell over. Tara steadied him. “Thanks,” he said, “My leg fell asleep.” He shook his leg as he looked off to the right.

  “Man, I wish I knew how my parents were doing.” He sighed. “I know it’s too much to ask for, but if there’s any working vehicles on that army base, I wonder if Carl can get me a ride back to Tennessee. Even if it’s a one-way trip, I’d like to be there.”

  Tara smiled. “I’ll put in a good word for you.” Rupert deserved it for taking care of Michael, but she knew favors would be in short supply nowadays.

  Once Rupert departed, Tara sat down and scooted closer to Michael. The close-up sight of his face startled Tara. A brown beard was growing on his face, no doubt due to an absence of razors, plus Michael’s reduced ability to groom himself. However, his cheeks seemed a little more pronounced. The running, walking and hiking was definitely a factor, plus the reduced amounts of food and the absence of any fried fast food or large meals all contributed to his weight loss. Michael likely would lose more pounds as the days wore on. Tara worried that he might start to look sickly.

  “Hey,” Tara said as she settled back a little, keeping out of his immediate space. “How have you been? Sorry I haven’t been by. It’s just been crazy busy today.”

  Michael didn’t respond. Tara figured it might take a while to coax him. She kept talking.

  “We, we had some stuff to do today. We found a nice house but we can’t stay there. Some terrible things happened to the people who lived there. No bad guys there, they left. But they also left some victims.” Tara huddled closer to the pack bundle. “A family. Four in all. We…we buried them today.”

  Michael still didn’t react. Tara was fine with that. She continued.

  “We’re all pretty shook up about it. We kept the kids away from the whole ordeal. Carl says he wants us to go on to Camp Jefferson without any delays. He doesn’t know if anywhere out here is safe for us.” She sighed. “It probably isn’t. Maybe it’d be better if we bugged out in a cave somewhere and fed off deer for the rest of our lives. Wouldn’t that sound cool?”

  Did Michael smile? Tara wasn’t looking close enough to notice. In any case, the movement in his lips quickly disappeared. Tara kept up her end of the conversation.

  “I guess you’re the lucky one. You don’t have to worry about all this. You’re just along for the ride. You don’t have to be involved in the hard talks and the big decisions.” She pulled her knees up toward her face.

  “It’s real funny. I’d always talk about what was going on in the world. I’d smack around the politicians in Washington, call them losers, call them wimps, corrupt, evil.” She shook her head. “Well, now Tara Rowe gets her world, where those guys aren’t in charge. I guess I really should be careful what I ask for.” She smiled. “No, I’m sure I didn’t ask for a Mad Max world, but you know what I mean.”

  Tara coughed. All this talking taxed her throat. She quit for a moment and rested her head against her knees.

  “I really wish you could talk to me. I can’t handle this by myself.” She sighed. “I wish we were home.”

  Tara rested her head against her knees. At least talking tired her out a little. Maybe she could go to sleep at least.

  “The…varnish.”

  Tara lifted her head. Michael spoke! But what did he say?

  “The…varnish.” Michael turned his head toward Tara. “The…floor varnish. I…I left it open. Left the can open.” Then he smiled, slowly, but a sheepish grin was definitely forming. “Was in a hurry…before I left house. The varnish will…stink up the place.”

  Tara’s mouth dropped open. “That’s what you want to talk about? Your floor varnish?”

  Michael chuckled once. “You…always said…it smells. It’s going to…to smell like Hell…when we get home.”

  Tara groaned. “My God, Michael!”

  “Of course…the fridge…will have been out…for a long time….House’ll stink worse…from that.”

  Tara couldn’t help it. She laughed.

  After the laughter died down, Michael shifted a little more toward Tara. “Sorry,” he said, “You had a hard day.”

  She reached over and took his right arm. “It was,” she replied softly.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Carl stared at the night sky. As usual, it was bea
utiful. The blackness of the heavens was deeper and the stars more numerous. Because the EMP had darkened man’s artificial lights on the ground, it made the evening skies more luminous to look at. The beauty of the night was the only solace he could draw from today’s horrors.

  I thought traveling with more people would be better, Carl thought. But with a larger traveling party came greater responsibility. He had to spend time delegating duties and considering the impact the murdered Sevigny family would have on each individual in the group. Hence, he would isolate some members of his party from the house for their own good.

  If I was alone, Carl thought. If I was alone, this would be so much easier. I’d be gone already. No, I wouldn’t have stopped here. I would have headed on to Camp Jefferson. I wouldn’t have to risk anybody’s neck but my own out here.

  He was beginning to regret taking everyone out from the suburbs. At least there was a community in that mall. And yet he had sound reasons for making the flight out here. The countryside held better prospects for finding food and water. More anarchists could have shown up in the mall from the city.

  Maybe I made the best choice I could, but that still doesn’t make it easier.

  Carl slowly paced through the camp. The children had fallen asleep. The adults he had passed, Harold, Rupert and Preston, had not. No, scratch that. Rupert was lying on the grass, sound asleep. At least sleep would claim a few of them tonight, but he wouldn’t know until morning if the sleep had been peaceful.

  Then he noticed something that made him smile. Tara was nestled in Michael’s embrace, her eyes closed. Michael appeared asleep as well. How did these two connect so well? It didn’t matter. Carl was just glad that they had.

  He tried creeping away, but Tara opened her eyes. She wasn’t actually asleep, as it turned out. “Hey,” she said, “still working off adrenaline?”

  “I should get some sleep for the long walk tomorrow, but my mind’s going a mile a minute,” Carl said.

  “I’m sorry.” Tara climbed to her feet. “Guess all of this is worse on you. You had to handle the burial and everything.”

  Carl smiled, though only slightly. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll just focus on getting us to Camp Jefferson. And then maybe we’ll finally find an end to this nightmare.” He scratched his cheek. “I’ll leave you two. Maybe I can find a place behind the hill to sleep.”

  Tara smiled. “Okay. Good night.”

  After sitting back down, she settled back against Michael’s arm. But then she remembered what Carl just had said. He was going to find a place behind the hill?

  She suddenly pulled free of Michael and ran after Carl. “Carl! Wait!” she shouted after him.

  Early morning came. The first glow of the rising sun started to rise beyond the horizon, turning the darkened sky into a display of light blue and orange. The party already was awake and were gathering their gear. One of their members, however, was not with them.

  Carl had been standing inside the Sevignys’ garage for the past hour. He had found a gas can. How it was overlooked by the murderers, Carl couldn’t say. Perhaps it was a sign that lighting this place on fire was the right move. He could spread a trail of gasoline through the home’s hallway and up the stairs. The gas would carry a fire throughout the house and eventually consume the place from the inside out.

  He wanted to do it. Yet he passed up chance after chance to pick up the can and start his work.

  He waited and waited until Preston showed up in the small door leading from the rest of the house. “Carl?” he asked. Carl didn’t respond. “We’re almost ready.”

  Carl coughed. The air in the garage was drying out his throat.

  Preston walked up to Carl, taking a look at the gas can as he approached. “So, what are you doing?”

  “This place doesn’t deserve to stay standing,” Carl said. “I should burn the whole damn thing down, but I can’t.” He glanced at the can. “It’s like they win again.”

  “Someone who could really use this place might show up someday. We can’t destroy this house just because an atrocity happened here.”

  Carl nodded. “I know. I just thought it would be one last thing I could do for them.”

  “I don’t know anything about them, but I imagine anybody whose decent would want their home to be put to good use, not die along with them.”

  Carl turned to Preston. “Yeah.” He turned his back to the gas can. “That’s--that’s right.”

  He left the garage along with Preston.

  “Mister Carl…”

  Carl barely heard Shyanne’s voice. He didn’t even know how long Shyanne had been calling to him.

  “Mister Carl,” she repeated, “my feet hurt.”

  Carl processed the sentence but he felt no compulsion to answer it. His brain had switched off the reality of the outside world to meet his goal of Camp Jefferson. He would not be deterred.

  “For God’s sake,” Alicia said, “the little one needs to rest her little feet.”

  Carl still didn’t respond.

  “Hello!” Then Alicia turned to Tara. “What’s the deal with Captain America here?”

  “Easy.” Harold then rushed to Shyanne and scooped her up. “I will carry her.”

  “Thank you,” Shyanne said softly.

  Alicia still fumed. “What the hell has gotten into him?” she asked softly.

  I’m sorry, Carl thought, but he could not put the thoughts into actual words. His limbs were aching due to the nonstop hiking, but resting was not an option. His body had blocked out the pain in its relentless drive to go forward.

  Since they had started off from their camp near the train tracks, Carl had relentlessly pushed the group forward, only stopping once to eat as Carl recognized they could not keep traveling with empty bellies. They had turned away from the tracks when they swerved left, which meant the group now was hiking across uneven land through modest woods. There were enough gaps in the trees to allow more direct sunlight, which in turn warmed them a little more.

  Carl wiped off beads of sweat. The sun wasn’t helping, but at least it was fall. The weather would cool down as night approached. He was just thankful it wasn’t winter, or they would have to tread through snow or perhaps even a snowstorm.

  His boot crushed another twig. Pain flared in his foot. He was tempted to stop. But then he pushed the pain aside and kept walking.

  Tara grimaced. Her toes were starting to feel sore inside her boots. She would have slowed down if not for Carl’s relentless drive to keep going. Lorenzo and Alicia also appeared to be in similar discomfort. The children, with the exception of Shyanne, seemed to be fine with it. Ricardo was entranced by the beauty of the nearby woods, while Matthew and Thomas were exchanging small talk about the foliage as they passed. It seemed the two brothers were fascinated by the shape of the tree leaves in this part of the forest.

  “I like the outdoors, but not this much,” Tara said quietly.

  Michael had been walking with her this whole time. He said, “Do you…want me…to carry you?”

  Tara chuckled. “Yeah, I bet you could.”

  “Don’t…be too hard…you don’t…weigh…much,” he said.

  Tara smacked him in the arm for that. Then, she felt sudden horror. “Oh God, I’m sorry!” She cringed. “Did that hurt? I know you’re still on the mend and all, I just forgot…”

  “Forgot…you mean you thought…things were normal.”

  Tara nodded. “Yeah.”

  Michael was right. Except for Michael’s somewhat labored attempts to talk, she and Michael had fallen back into their old groove. It was both encouraging and a little depressing, as she knew things never truly would be normal again. Even if they got back to a normal routine between them, they never would drive a car, go to a movie, or enjoy an air-conditioned home again.

  Tara groaned again. “My feet.”

  “We should…stop. Rest.”

  “We can’t. Carl’s insisting we go on.”

  Michael glanced at Carl
up ahead. “Carl,” he repeated as if he was hearing a stranger’s name. “He’s…from the army?”

  “He’s a Marine,” Tara replied. “The guy looks it, doesn’t he?”

  Michael frowned a little. Tara wondered what Michael was thinking about, as he and Carl never had had a normal conversation before. Carl occasionally had talked to Michael, but Michael never had responded. How did Michael view Carl? A friend? A savior? Do you think he views Carl as a romantic threat?

  Tara’s cheeks blushed at the thought. She never had thought about Carl in that way, even when she believed Michael was dead, but what did Michael think? Michael was not exactly the outwardly jealous type, but he could make his displeasure known when he thought someone was making a move on her.

  “Of course, I think there’s no contest between you two.” Tara then reached up and felt the whiskers growing on Michael’s face. “A beard looks much better on you.”

  Michael glanced at Tara. His frown disappeared, but he didn’t smile, not yet. “Thank you,” he said slowly. Then he scratched the cheek where Tara had felt it. “Do you think…do you trust him?”

  “Trust him?” Tara asked, “Sure. He’s saved our lives several times over. He helped save yours, too. He’s as American as apple pie, baseball and pickup trucks.”

  Michael nodded. “Yeah.”

  Then he ran a hand across his head where he had been injured. Rupert had changed the dressing before they had departed from near the Sevigny house. Tara had seen the wound. It was now mostly a red streak across the back of Michael’s head with some ugly scabs at the front and bottom. Fortunately, there was no sign of infection. The crucial few days after Michael’s injury had passed without him contracting any bacterial infection like gangrene. But every now and then Michael still would touch that spot. Perhaps it itched, or maybe something else was bothering him.

  “Tara,” Michael said, “sometimes…I get scared.”

  “I know how you feel,” Tara said.