I still look back on the day I left with confusion. I do not know why I had so rashly agreed to move from the only home I had ever known with a father and child that I barely knew. You probably are thinking that I acted foolishly. If that is the case, then you are certainly correct. I was foolish, but I was also tired, lonely, and desperate. I had survived the initial disasters, only to be met with the nearly ever-present feeling that I was doomed to a life of solitude. Being presented with the opportunity of connection and relationship again held too much appeal for my devastated twenty-year-old mind. I like to think that there are very few people who would have made a different decision.
Thoughts of trepidation and excitement tumbled through my head as we walked north away from the town. Our northerly direction was Max’s idea. He had made the argument that colder climate meant that the ground would probably be firmer for longer periods of the year and thus we might be safer from sink holes. Besides, he had apparently heard of a city about five days journey north, that still had large amounts of food and supplies available. I could not argue with his logic and I had no opposing suggestion, so we had headed north.
It was around noon by the time we had truly begun our journey, what with planning, packing, and gathering supplies. My stomach flipped at the thought of leaving the safe areas I had come to know. In the first few months of disaster, I had painstaking made hand-drawn maps of “safe” areas in and around town. I say safe, but truly, I could never known for certain. There were areas that had proven to be more safe than others though – rocky areas rather than fields – that sort of thing. At least this apocalypse had some predictability.
I ducked under a low-hanging branch as I followed Max, who held Amy by the hand. We had found a forest to travel through as quickly as we could. The root systems of the trees would keep the ground more stable than a field. The couple of sinkholes we had seen in the field we were forced to cross seemed to corroborate our theory.
Even though I had not known Max very long, I admired the logical and decisive way he approached things. Besides, I already found myself caring a lot about Amy, and he seemed to be so intent upon keeping her safe, it warmed my heart. Fathers are surely more trustworthy than just random men, I reasoned. It eased the recently familiar anxiety I often felt when I remembered that not only had I known Max for less than forty-eight hours, but I had watched him kill a man during that time. I was attempting to reassure my worried brain for the millionth time, when a voice interrupted my thoughts.
“Katherine?” I looked up to see Max looking back at me, with Amy following suit. She had been so quiet all morning, which had me wondering if that was normal for her. I had no way to know, really. Perhaps she was just exhausted and frightened from the events of yesterday – I knew I was.
“Yes?” I answered Max, speeding up my pace to match his.
“Are you doing alright so far? We aren’t going too fast, I hope?”
I shook my head. “I’m okay.” I looked down at Amy, “How are you doing, Amy? Are you feeling tired?” Amy simply continued to look straight ahead as we walked. The only indication she had heard me was the slight downturn of her mouth. I paused, unsure of how to deal with Amy’s non-communicative nature. I wanted her to like me – warm up to me – but I just was not quite sure as to how to make that happen. I resorted to a tried and true strategy, “Would you like a piggyback, Amy?” I glanced at Max, “As long as your dad is okay with it?”
Max smiled, “Of course! Amy, what do you think?” He paused to crouch down and look at her. “Would you like Katherine to give you a piggy back ride?”
Amy looked frightened, but cautiously turned and looked at me. She frowned, “Yes, but you’ve already got a piggy back.” She pointed at my backpack which held much of our supplies for the trip. I laughed at her misunderstanding of my backpack, as Max chimed in.
“I can carry that.” He smiled as he took my pack from me. I crouched down so that Amy could climb onto my back.
“Hop on, Amy!” I called. She did so. We walked that way for a while – Max carrying my bag and me carrying Amy. As we passed by interesting plants or pretty flowers, I would point them out, hoping to find something that interested Amy. As we passed by a lilac bush, Amy pointed to it, finally excited. I smiled as a veered towards the bush, close enough that Amy could pluck a cluster of flowers off of it. She brought them to her nose and I could hear her making an overly-exaggerated sniffing sound, as if that would help her enjoy the scent of the violet-coloured flowers better. A moment later, the flowers were in my face. I started, surprised.
“Smell!” A little voice behind my head demanded. I laughed, complying. They smelled lovely. “They smell so nice, Amy! You picked a good branch.”
Several hours later, Max and I were walking side by side, tangentially discussing our opinions of the pros and cons of different flooring options. Clearly, we had talked about many different subjects throughout the afternoon. We had reminisced about our families, what we had done in the long months since the first sink hole had appeared, and our likes and dislikes. When we were satisfied with the outcome of our flooring discussion, we drifted into comfortable silence. Amy was drooped on Max’s shoulder, having become exhausted after a couple of hours of walking on her own. I could not blame her – my legs ached with the unfamiliarity of walking for so many hours at a time.
I noticed – not for the first time – a thin, leather bracelet on Max’s left arm, the one wrapped around Amy as he carried her. There were little square white beads encircling the leather strands, which gave me pause. I could see what looked like letters on the beads, but could not quite make them out.
“What does your bracelet say?” I broke the silence, looking to Max as I waited for an answer.
He smiled, turning to me, “It says ‘Dad’. My daughter made it for me.”
I smiled back, “Amy is such a sweet girl. You are very lucky to have her as a daughter.”
Max’s expression seemed to freeze for a moment, but his eyes glazed over, looking quite distant. In a moment, however, his gaze focused back on me again, a smile spreading over his face. “Yes, I am very thankful.” He have her back a gentle pat as he turned his attention ahead once more.
We spent an uneventful night camping in the forest. The next day was spent much the same as the one before, with conversation, walks in silence, and Amy napping.
I was already beginning to like this routine of walking and talking, playing word games or eye spy with Amy, and just being somewhere different. I felt happy to be around other people, and Max provided a layer of security that I did not know I had missed until I felt it.
On the second night, Amy and I played a game of eye-spy – her current favourite – as Max started a fire. Every day, as we walked, Max seemed careful to hold her hand or carry her, but when left to her own devices, Amy seemed to gravitate towards me. The moment we would stop for a break or to sleep and Max let her go, she was glued to my side. I supposed Max was so intent on keeping her close as we walked, so as to keep her safe. Have a child out of arm’s reach in such a threatening environment was certainly not prudent, and besides, Max already had the weight of having lost his wife. He had a right to be afraid.
Max’s face glowed orange in the light of the little fire he had just started. He smiled up at us from across the fire as he brushed his hands together, “I’ll cook some dinner for us tonight.”
I shook my head in protest, “No, you cooked dinner last night. Let me take care of it tonight.”
Max continued to smile, “No, I like cooking, and you look tired.”
I could not argue with that – I was exhausted. I relented with a quiet thank you. Max responded with a gentle smile back as he set about preparing some food.
After we had eaten and Amy was tucked safely away in her sleeping bag, Max began boiling a pot of water while he cleaned up the remains of dinner. I sat on the grass close to the fire. I was infinitely thankful that we had been able to find warm and compact sleeping bags to bring along with us. We had truly been quite lucky to find any useful supplies, as Max had been right, the food and supplies had begun to become sparse.
“Would you like some tea when I finish making it?” Max asked as he carefully placed the cooking utensils and our dishes back into his bag. At my hesitation, he added “It might help you sleep.” Concern clouding his expression, as he continued, “I noticed you did not sleep well last night.” I turned away. He was right, I had slept quite poorly the night before and it had probably been obvious. I toss and turn a lot when I cannot fall asleep. Yet, I felt a touch of bitterness at his comment. Of course I had not slept well – you killed a man in front of me and your daughter yesterday. I thought. It’s a wonder any of us slept at all. Tamping down these thoughts, I forced a small smile, “I will have some tea, thank you.”
Minutes later, Max was a gently placing a mug of steaming water in my hands, little leaves floated within.
“I picked those myself – Labrador Tea leaves – they should help you to sleep.”
I smiled my thanks as I accepted the mug. “Do you know a lot about teas and plants and things like that?”
“Yes, my wife and I used to collect and grow many plants and herbs. We had a whole pantry with our herbs, teas, and plants organized in little wooden boxes which I carved. I still remember the first box I made.” Max gave me a rueful, and slightly amused smile, “it was terrible” he laughed “I got so many splinters for the payout of a terrible-looking box. But, I kept practicing, and eventually, I was able to make some very nice-looking boxes. Ava, my wife,” he clarified, “would decorate and label each box, she was so talented at painting intricate designs. Each box was like its own little world.” He smiled, a distant look in his eyes, as if he were reliving the cherished memory.
I watched him, unsure if I should break the silence or let him sit in quiet for a moment. Before I could decide, he turned to me, “Do you have any memories like that, Katherine? Any moments of doing wonderful things or spending time with people you loved?”
I considered his question for a moment, searching my mind for particularly meaningful moments. “Hmm I suppose one of my favourite memories was painting rocks with my friends.” This time it was my turn to smile, “Carla, Liam, and I started to paint or write encouraging little sayings on rocks and left them around town. It sort of began as a silly thing that we did when we were seventeen or eighteen, but we just kind of kept doing it. People all over town would find them and take them home. It was something that bonded us together and encouraged other people.” I looked up from my tea that I had been staring at as I talked. The tea had lapped at the sides of the cup as I tipped and fiddled with the mug in an attempt to fidget my way through the conversation.
When my eyes fell on Max, he was looking intently at me, his faint smile flickering in the firelight. “That does sound like a wonderful memory.” His smile faded, “What happened to your friends?” My eyes stung as I thought back to eleven months ago, when I – when everyone – lost so much.
“I don’t know. I assume they died, since most of our town was killed when the sink holes started. I have been searching for them ever since, but never found any indication of what happened to them.”
Max’s eyes glistened as he looked at me sympathetically. “I am so sorry.”
I shook my head. “Most people died. Those of us who survived all lost people we loved. Grief is our life now.”
Max looked a little surprised, “You don’t have hope that life will get better?”
I looked down at the dirt, thinking. It was not that I didn’t know the answer, but simply that I did not want to acknowledge it.
“I want to hope. I just don’t see any reason to.” I tried to hold back tears as the feelings of despair and hopelessness that I had been battling for months came rushing back in a nearly overwhelming torrent. I heard movement in front of me, but I could not bring myself to look up. I could sense Max had stood up and was a moving closer to me, could see the shadow created by the firelight of his body on the dirt by my feet. He knelt in front of me, taking my hand in both of his. I jerked my head up in surprise – this was too familiar, too fast.
Despite the distinct gut feeling that screamed, telling me that it was too soon for this sort of familiarity, this sort of affection, there was a part of me that liked it. I felt wanted, cared-for, and protected. I wanted a new family, and a reckless part of me was beginning to choose Max and Amy despite having only known them for a couple of days.
Max’s eyes rested on our hands before they rose to meet my eyes. My cheeks tingled, feeling warm – I wasn’t used to the intensity of someone’s full attention.
“There is always hope, Katherine,” Amused, a slight smile crept onto my lips, “Are you quoting Aragorn from Lord of the Rings at me?”
Max blinked, then a wide smile broke across his face. “If it helps?”
“It helps.” I smiled.
“Then, I am.” He smiled back. Standing, he brushed the dirt from his jeans and quietly began preparing our camp so that we could join Amy in getting a decent night’s sleep.
A distant roar made its way through the darkness to us. Amy woke with a start, fearful eyes locking first onto Max, who was standing close, and then me. Max knelt beside her bed reassuring her that it was just a distant landslide or sinkhole.
It was a sound that survivors had to become quite accustomed to, since it happened often. That did not make it any less frightening. The roar of the earth opening up or giving way is something I am convinced no human gets used to. I did not blame Amy for being afraid.
Intriguing!