Midland

The pink child sized roller suitcase disappeared around the end of the hallway beyond security as a smack to her temple woke her. She blinked sleepily, pulling her mind back from the airport to focus on the orange dust streaming outside the aluminum framed window which had become her accidental pillow. The bus bounced again, and she rubbed at her eyes, clearing the grit. Her skin felt a size too small, lips stuck together. There was no way of knowing how long she’d slept. Fully awake, she checked the silver heart, sliding it back and forth on the ribbon around her neck. Uncurling, her knees crunched complaining about the extended time bent against the pebbly green seat in front of her. Sleep had come with her head on her backpack, but even slumping over unconscious she hadn’t let the canvas out of her grip. The water in her bottle was flat and hot, but she swished it thoroughly before swallowing.

Other passengers didn’t turn to look at her stumbling passage, though she had to step over more than one set of legs. She grabbed hold of the stanchion behind the driver which held one end of a rope which function as a curtain rod to block off the empty area behind him. The smell of fries was strong here, and the irregular motion of the bus forced her to grip the stanchion on the other side as well. A large crack appeared a few feet ahead, and the bus swung sharply to the right.

The driver’s eyes didn’t shift, but his lifted his chin slightly. “Watcha?”

“Checking on Midland.”

“Twenty tops, less at this speed. Sitcha here for a wag.” Again, a small head shift indicating the first seat across from the driver.

“Sure. Thanks.” Most of the seat was filled plastic tubs that brushed memories of holiday decorating. Somewhere in the tubs were the three packages of mac and cheese and a can of condensed milk that had bought her passage. Perching on the edge of the seat and wedging her feet against the metal station she watched the road through the front window.

“Midland end of the road?”

“For now, I guess. Just trying to get there.”

The corner of his mouth pulled up, and he let out a chuffing sound. “Why waste the energy till you need to, eh?”

His face was weathered and dark, except for the light lines radiating out from his eyes and mouth, and up his forehead all leading to his large nose. He glanced at her with bright green eyes and all she could think was lizard. She cleared her throat. “Driving long?”

“Since before. After, found this old hunk fixed her up. No chip.”

“Lucky find.”

Another chuff. “Had an eye out. You talk like a Yank.”

“Yeah.” She stared ahead at the pitted and cracked road, but for a moment she could feel the cool spring air scented with salt from the harbor and blooming lilacs. “Yeah.”

“Is it really leveled?”

Red dust obscured the road for a moment, and the salt and lilacs turned to burning asphalt and hot plastic. “Not leveled really, but the cities are husks, burnt-out wastelands.”

“Smaller towns?”

“Probably about the same as here, some are okay, some not so okay.”

“That’s one-way a-sayin’ it. Not-so-okay. Hell on Earth, yeah?”

Pulling her lips up into a grimace to acknowledge his correction, she sighed, “Some of them, yeah.”

“Ain’t nothing in Midland, heaven or hell. Better off keep going.”

She touched her chest, the small lump of metal against her skin shifted under the cloth. “I can’t.”

Green eyes sunflowered with brown grabbed hers in the mirror above the window. “Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t see the difference really.”

“Family then?”

“That’s the hope.”

“Dangerous stuff, hope.” His large hands shifted on the steering wheel, they were scarred, but not as weather worn.

“Can be.”

“Might set your noggin to a plan without it.”

“Try not to let myself think of any other kind.”

“No luck, then?”

“None at all,” she huffed softly.

His head tipped forward, dark hair slid over his shoulder obscuring his face. “That’s the way, ain’t it. Creeps in all quiet like. Fills up the empties.”

“Sounds like you’ve got experience.”

“Some. This here.” He jerked his head back indicating the rest of the bus “Gives a purpose.”

“I’m certainly grateful. They were certain you’d be back in Shriveport.”

He nodded. “Some good sorts there, used to chaos I reckon.”

“So this purpose, it runs regular?”

He laughed this time. “Whatcha! That’d be foolish.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

Again, his eyes sought hers out briefly, all the light lines across his face disappearing into deep wrinkles. “How’d’ya make it this far?”

She held up her hands. “Doctor.”

“You go a courtin’ hope and danger.”

Rubbing her wrist against remembered zip ties. “Yeah, hard lessons.”

“Purpose can sub for hope.”

“It takes the edge off.” They were both silent for a bit. “Back east, when it started, I had so much purpose I didn’t have time to worry.” Her eyes were looking out the window, but she was seeing darkend hallways, no water, no supplies, angry faces, fires. “By the time I got out of the city, all I had left was this plan and some hope.” The ribbon pulled taught against the back of her neck as she remembered.

“If you’re set on Midland, I could come back this way. Could use a partner. You ain’t a fright, got skills, it’s a solid take. Share a bunk or not, as you will.” He didn’t meet her gaze in the mirror, but she could see the flush on his cheeks.

Lizard or not, it was a generous offer, she dropped the locket back under her shirt. Half his business, her choice for intimacy. “I appreciate it, but I can’t.”

He lifted one shoulder. “I’ll plan on being back here, maybe see you, maybe don’t. Maybe there’ll be a new plan.” The bus jerked, and he rested his hand on door crank turning to look at her. His face was lined and battered, but he wasn’t old. He couldn’t have been long out of school, Before. He watched her registered his age and her first good look at his face. “Here’s hopin’ you find them you’re lookin’ for.”

“My daughter.” She took a breath to say her name.

His hand shot up palm out. “Don’t. Not your’s, either.”

Heat rushed up her neck and across her face. “Sorry, I… I forgot.”

“Next time. Yeah?” He swung the crank around, and fries and burnt iron flooded in.

She moved down the stairs, pausing to pull up her mask and look back. “Yeah.”

As soon as she had cleared the door, it swung shut as the bus rolled forward disappering into the haze. He’d dropped her right at the off ramp. The light was a getting deeper, but it was only a couple more miles. The stores and homes looked normal, not burnt out, but the streets were filled with dust and stalled cars.

The front door was locked, the pool in the back was half empty, dust coated everything including the top of what water remained, staining everything bloody. A solid kick opened the French doors. Inside the house was still musty, but not decayed. There were dishes in the rack by the sink, including a plastic bowl with dinosaurs wearing tiaras. The family room had toys lined up against the wall, neatly put away. Three pairs of shoes by the front door. Her father’s orthopedics, her mother’s flats, and a bright green pair of sandals. Her parents’ room was first. They both lay there on their backs, fingers entwined above the cotton sheet they’d pulled up to their chest. An envelope sat on her mother’s side, propped against the lamp.

Pausing, she stepped from the tile onto the plush white carpet. Part of her wanted to look away, but she studied them both. Their faces were shriveled, eye sockets and cheeks caved in. The heat must have been high enough to kill their internal bacteria, They’d dried not decayed. She shifted her mother’s hair, so it sat the way she liked it. Picked up the note and followed her own footsteps back out.

The next room had a bunk bed. On the phone she had agreed to sleep on the bottom. Dim light through the horizontal shade illuminated a silver framed picture, and a small purple robe she didn’t recognize on the bureau. She set down her backpack, slipped off her shoes, and tiptoed across rug. Steep little stairs accessed the top bunk, and she climbed them then perching at the edge of the bed.

Ava was curled around her matted blue hedgehog, hair hanging tangled across her face Brushing was always such a fight.

Reaching out she gently pushed away the hair, there was no way to pretend Ava was sleeping, face too hollow, body too still. Pain held back by such slender hope for so long grew like an avalanche. It started by cramping her stomach with uncontrollable heaving, then crescendo wiping her mind clean. Rising back into thought, her throat was raw, the rest of her hollowed by pain. She unclipped her knife from her belt flipping it open. She ran her thumb down the blade . Blood welled up dripping down her arm. The room was dark, but the wind had subsided, and enough moonlight shone so she could watch the dripping blackness of her blood. Endorphins released providing a sigh of relief against the reverberating agony, but, not enough, She feathered the blade against the soft flesh of her wrist. The blade wasn’t as sharp as a scalpel, but it was as close as she could make it. Almost no pressure would be needed to create a long, deadly slice.

At some point the blood dried and she turned the knife to her neck. With a quick flick she cut the ribbon. The heart slid into her palm. Ava had found it half buried in dirt. She’d suspended it on a pink ribbon and put a picture of her hedgehog on one side, the two of them on the other.

Ava had taken it off at the airport. “You wear it, then I know you’ll be safe till you get to Grandma’s.” She had squinted up. “Then you’ll give it back. Deal?”

A last hug. “Deal.”

The ribbon was now grey and frayed where it had been cut and retied shorter. “I’ll leave this with you now. But I promise, I’ll keep myself safe. Deal?” She tucked the ends of the ribbon around Ava’s neck. The heart slid down and rested on the pillow. Leaning forward, she rested her own head on the pillow too. She wove in and out of dreaming of the rest of their lives together.

When the light was strong enough she could make out the picture on the bureau, she kissed the mop of tangled hair. “Deal.” She took the picture from the frame and gathered the rest of her items.

In the bathroom, there was a glass with white residue at the bottom next to a bottle of Benadryl and a still sticky spoon. She touched the spoon gently. The toilet bowl was empty, but there was still some water in the tank. She filled her bottle, adding a splash of Hydrogen Peroxide.

In the kitchen the cupboards were filled with plenty of middle-of-the-grocery-store foods, boxes and cans. From the hall closet she took her mother’s largest purse and gym bag, emptied them both on the floor then filled them with cans and boxes. In the junk drawer, she found a fat purple elastic band and drew the French doors shut securing them. The weight of the food bags cut into her shoulders as she shrugged into her backpack. Then she turned, heading south toward the overpass, trying not to hope for a better look at those green sunflower eyes.