I Hope You Find Me, Page 2

  After pushing through the door, the smell of the hallway hit me like a brick and I swooned, fearing I might pass out from the overwhelming stench. Zoey whimpered at my knees as I ran to the end of the walkway and paused briefly in front of the last door. It was unlocked, but I still knocked gently and entered with a sleeved hand cupped tightly around my nose and mouth.

  I was in the apartment no more than fifteen seconds. Mom had died in her bed, clothed in a nightgown, with a note folded in one of her bloated and discolored hands. A ray of sunshine penetrated through a gap in the blinds, sending a soft stream of light across her pillow, lighting her strawberry blonde hair and making the strands of grey shimmer. A dark fluid had begun to run down the side of the mattress forming a goopy puddle on the floor. I gagged as my stomach threatened to expel what little had collected there since morning, staying only long enough to take the scrap of paper, cover her and leave. I took the stairs down two at a time, choking back sobs, my eyes stinging with tears. My family, they were all gone. Everyone was gone.

  ***

  After vomiting up everything that was in my stomach, and dry heaving for nearly five minutes, I collapsed up against the building and rested my head back against the cool red and brown brick until the sunlight felt hot on my face. Zoey lay next to me, her head resting on my thigh, comforting me the only way a dog knows how. I slowly rubbed the top of her head as I read my Mom’s note out loud to her.

  Sweetie,

  Part of me hopes that you never read this letter. I know I’m dying and I don’t want you to find me here like this. But if you came here, you must be safe and that is what comforts me now. I love you, so much. And I hope I said it enough. Humanity may have destroyed itself, but if you are here, if you are ok, then there is still hope. Never lose your hope. Love you, like you and care about you. Always.

  Mom

  ***

  I had to change. I so badly wanted out of my soiled clothes I was almost tempted to walk the streets naked. Even though I had only been in the tight quarters of my Mother’s apartment for less than a minute, everything I wore, even my skin and hair, smelled like death. Zoey didn’t smell any better and she knew it. God, we needed a shower.

  Before we left the apartment I pulled a piece of paper out of my pack and wrote on it carefully before taping it to the inside of the complex lobby window.

  1/9 12:30pm

  Family and Friends: No one is alive here. It seems the City is dead. I’m moving on to the bus station then the airport. I’ll leave a message for you at Terminal One.

  I hope you find me. - Riley

  I went back inside the building to the public restroom and tried the faucets but only a hollow echo vibrated through the pipes. It was quickly becoming an all-around sucky day.

  Once outside again, I stood on the empty sidewalk looking up and down the street, squinting into the sun. It was maybe a thirty minute walk straight to the bay. The water would be cold, but it would be better than walking around with that stench clinging to my body, checking building after building, hoping for a working faucet.

  We turned west toward the mall. It took a while to find replacements for what I was wearing, as well as what I’d need to scrub my skin and hair. When we made it back to Broadway, over an hour had passed; the sun was directly above us but there was a chill in the air. The bus depot was before the bay so we continued west, and as we walked through an empty intersection I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.

  “Help me.” A man’s voice whispered from behind my right ear.

  I jumped and uttered a startled yelp but when I whirled around, the street was empty. If Zoey hadn’t bristled and growled I would have thought I’d imagined the whole thing. I stood very still as I looked up and down the buildings and store fronts for any sign of movement.

  “Hello?” I couldn’t keep my voice from shaking.

  Taking a few more steps into the intersection I cleared my throat and tried to hide the tremor in my voice as I yelled once more, “Hello… anyone there?”

  From one of the corner buildings, a metal door slammed shut with a heavy bang, causing me to flinch. Zoey began turning in circles and barking loudly in the direction we had come from. Then, she bolted. Not knowing what else to do I ran after her, calling her name, struggling to hold onto my bags while the pack thumped heavily against my back. Twice I looked over my shoulder and the second time I thought I saw someone watching us from a street corner, but I didn’t stop running until the stitch in my side became unbearable. I could see Zoey off in the distance, a small dark speck on the horizon.

  Well that’s just great. I muttered to myself.

  As I collapsed to my knees, my eyes strained to take in everything around me. Every sense I had was heightened. I could smell the salt in the air from the nearby ocean mingling with the rot of the city. While my knees pressed into the concrete of the sidewalk, I listened to the creak of the tree branches and the scraping sound of a small paper cup as it rolled along the gutter, and an empty humorless laugh escaped my mouth at the fact that I was losing my mind.

  I inhaled deeply and started moving again, but Zoey was nowhere to be seen. For a little dog she sure could run. I was more than irritated that she bailed on me, which wasn’t her usual protective style but I knew something (or someone) must have really scared her. Every few feet I whistled for her, and called out her name. Two blocks past the bus depot and there she was, standing on the sidewalk, cowering behind a large metal trashcan, looking at me sheepishly. I stopped about ten feet from her and put my hands on my hips. A gesture she knew well.

  “Yeah, you know you blew it, don’t you?” I asked her with a mocking edge of firmness to my voice.

  I waited for her to creep her way to me and when she got to my feet I folded my arms across my chest and raised an eyebrow at her and glared. She flopped down and rolled submissively onto her back waiting for a tummy rub. Several minutes later, after the petting and soothing on my part and face licking on her part, we started walking again, back to the depot.

  I told myself we were both seeing and hearing things that weren’t there, but that didn’t keep me from looking over my shoulder every few seconds and staring nervously into the shadows around us. Zoey kept her tail tucked between her legs and her head low, as if something would attack us at any moment. The longer she continued on like that, the more I felt we weren’t alone.

  I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched very closely.

  ***

  There was no reason to go inside the Greyhound station. People had flocked to the small transit station hoping to get on a bus that would take them out of the city, but the buses couldn’t get them far, and there were more people trying to leave than there were buses.

  Hundreds of suitcases and bags littered the entryway, haphazardly strewn about the sidewalk. Someone had written on the wall in bright red spray paint: NO MORE BUSES. PLEASE GO HOME.

  One peek through the glass doors told me no one was alive inside. Bodies were slumped shoulder to shoulder up against each other. Some people sat and others lay slumped on the floor under blue blankets. My heart sank as I noticed all the parents that had died with their arms cradled around small children. A dark grey stroller lay empty, turned onto its side with the contents of a pink and yellow polka-dotted diaper bag dumped out onto the ground. I kept my hand clasped tightly around my nose, trying to ignore the smell from the building until I saw a police officer who sat awkwardly on the linoleum leaning against a wooden desk, a gun in his hand, and dried blood caked along the side of his lowered head, and my stomach lurched.

  I turned around so quickly that I tumbled over a red and black suitcase, and just before I landed on all fours, watery vomit flew from my mouth ungraciously, splattering against the pale sidewalk. I shook and lurched until I was sure I would heave my stomach lining out onto the dirty concrete. Zoey whined at my side, unsure of what to do and dodged away from me as I stumbled to my feet, swaying a bit before turning my back on the depot.


  I didn’t look back as we continued on to the Bay. I walked slowly, taking each step deliberately, wanting to run, but knowing that if I did my knees would buckle underneath me and send me face first onto the concrete. Even though I willed my nerves to calm down, and told myself I was going to be fine, my body betrayed me. I was shaking with fear from the inside out.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I sat on the edge of the narrow wooden dock with my naked feet dangling slowly over the water. I left my bra and underwear on, as if the small amount of clothing would protect me from the cold. For a bit I listened to the creak of the nearby boats as they gently bobbed in the murky water, every so often leaning into their dock slips with a groan or a sigh.

  When my shoulders felt warm from the sun I knew it was time to jump in. The challenge would be getting the dog to go with me. We could have just climbed across the rocks and walked right into the water, but the dog hated baths…even if I carried her in and kept her leashed, she would drag me out, or die trying. Anyhow, the bay water near the shore looked disgusting.

  But at the end of one of the small boat piers there was nothing but water, she would have to swim a bit before escaping to dry land – which is exactly what I wanted. The only way I’d be able to rinse her off properly would be to haul her into the deep water and be able to keep her there long enough to scrub the bubbles out of her thick coat. At the time, it seemed like a good plan. She stood peevishly at my feet, her thick dark coat lathered thickly with shampoo. I was prepared for her to hate me forever.

  She put as much distance between us as she could, fully aware that I had leashed her for a reason she wouldn’t like. When I pushed off the pier with the strap wrapped around my hand I tried to sound happy as I said, “Jump, girl!” but my words lost their breath when the cold water cut into my core like ice.

  It started at my feet, and quickly spread up my legs into my torso…a painful stinging sensation, like I was being jabbed everywhere with thousands of angry needles. For one very terrifying second, I was sure I was being stung by jellyfish, and I thrashed at the water around me until I realized the pain was simply from the cold water.

  I managed to close my mouth after gasping for air just before my head slipped under. The last thing I heard was Zoey’s nails scraping along the edge of the pier as she tried to pull against the taut strap. She crashed, indecorously, directly on top of my head, feet pummeling, struggling to find something to stand on. I let her kick circles around me while I struggled to open the shampoo bottle I dove in with, and pour it all over my hair. I washed what I could, and did my best to rinse the dog’s head before swimming back to the ladder to heave myself out. I made the mistake of taking the leash off my wrist and suddenly, Zoey was gone.

  I spun around in the water and saw her swimming away from the dock, deeper into the bay. I pushed off the ladder with enough force that I felt it rattle underneath my hand. I struggled to catch up to the dog.

  “Zoey!” I tried calling for her, but soft waves of water lapped over my face as I swam, and I mostly choked out her name.

  She doggy-paddled further out to sea, clearly terrified, not aware that she was swimming away from the shore, rather than closer to it, and with each stroke of my arms, the water became colder beneath me as if a giant hole had opened up somewhere in the depths below. I fought back the urge to panic at the thought of what could be swimming freely just a few feet beneath me.

  “Stop!” I yelled, “Zoey, come here!”

  Eventually she turned and saw me, and made an awkward and slow turn back in my direction. The gentle waves splashed against my face and into my ears as I tread the water, waiting for her. As soon as she was within touching distance, I reached for her leash and secured it to my hand again.

  “Damn dog.” I said, as my body trembled violently. “I don’t want to drown out here, let’s go.” I tugged on the leash and she began swimming next to me, her dark eyes rimmed red from the ocean water and an almost comical expression of fear in her gaze.

  By the time we got back to the dock, I was certain I swallowed an unsafe amount of saltwater during my struggle with the dog, and the impromptu swim had taken most of my strength. The cold was debilitating; I was shivering so hard my teeth were banging together, and my legs felt like solid lead.

  Climbing back up the ladder seemed almost impossible with my semi-frozen limbs but I reached up anyway and gripped the rough metal for support. My hands were numb as I slumped my forehead up against the first metal rung in frustration. Zoey barked beside me, treading the water in tight circles. As my fingers tightly gripped the frame, I willed myself to pull up and get the hell out of the water. With my eyes closed, I raised one hand up at a time. By the third rung I couldn’t feel my fingers anymore so I hung there unable to move up as my legs floated in the water below me, my knees pressed into the ladder frame for support. I refused to let go and fall back into the water.

  After counting to ten, and funneling what was left of my adrenaline-packed swim into my arms, I pulled myself upward, and the lower rungs of the ladder broke off beneath my feet. I gasped as the whole frame tipped forward and came apart in my hands.

  “Damn it.” I hissed, in disbelief, as my body slammed back into the water.

  What was left of the old ladder slipped under the water line and disappeared into the dark blue of the bay beneath the pier like a metal skeleton. I swore again at my luck and glanced nervously up at the pier, knowing it would be difficult to heave myself the few feet out of the water over the edge without a ladder. I could barely climb the rungs as it was.

  Pushing away from the pier in frustration, I floated onto my back, looking up at the warm sun which was a total contrast to the freezing bay water. Zoey barked loudly and swam past me, tugging on my arm, bringing me back to where the ladder had been hanging just moments before. Exhausted, and unable to swim anymore, I reached my hands up as high as they could go, and gripped the edge of the wooden dock with my fingertips.

  I stayed like that for several minutes, letting the flow of the water push my body and feeling the warmth of the sunlight penetrate into my hands and arms, until something dry and warm closed around my wrists and yanked me upward. I felt strong arms go around my waist as I was tugged over the edge of the dock, but I didn’t have the strength to lift my head and look at my savior.

  I flopped, water-logged, back onto the pier like a fish and tried to stutter out the words “My dog” but it came out sounding like, “Ny og.” instead.

  A few seconds later Zoey was scrambling onto the pier, shaking her body every two steps. The water droplets flying from her wet coat went so high up into the sky that they fell back down all around me like rain drops.

  I stayed on my side, curled in a ball, breaths shuddering in and out of my mouth, ignoring the sharp pin-pricks of the roughly sun-warped wooden planks digging into my cheek. The marina swayed in and out of my vision and I was startled by a deep male voice above my face.

  “You must be out of your mind!”

  With no energy to answer, I nodded in agreement as a dark haired man loosely wrapped one of the fluffy white department store towels around my shoulders, rubbing my arms for a few seconds. Then he went to work on Zoey with the other towel, vigorously rubbing her up and down until her tongue hung from her mouth in satisfaction.

  In the background I noticed an older couple standing on the shoreline. They were holding hands, watching us with sad expressions on their faces. The pier heaved softly with the water; distorting my vision and making the couple appear to shimmer in the sunlight, almost like they were bobbing up and down on the rocks. I gave up trying to focus on them and closed my eyes, listening to the steady creak of the wood underneath my cold body until his hands were on me again, so gentle and reassuring. When I opened my eyes the couple was gone.

  “Hi.” He peered at me curiously from clear blue eyes, his dark brows furrowed with concern.

  He was close enough to my face for me to see how long his eye lashes were. And the
y were long, insanely so. His full lips were flushed the same color pink as his cheeks. Long, dark brown strands of hair framed his face and for a moment I thought I knew him. There’s no way I’ve met him. I could never forget a face like his. But I know him, from somewhere.

  When I realized I was staring at him and he was staring back, I cleared my throat and tried to speak. My teeth clattered together violently as I answered him, “Um…Hi.”

  He smiled. Wow. It was a beautiful thing really; the roundness of his mouth parted, showing off a perfect set of bright white teeth, and as his smile deepened and his lips curled upward. I thought it should be illegal…having a smile like that. The little voice inside my head said softly, but firmly, a smile that amazing can only mean one thing…danger.

  I slowly shifted up onto my elbow and Zoey casually walked up to me, licked the side of my face and sat down by my hand. Her brown eyes were open wide as she peered at me, then the stranger, then back at me, waiting for one of us to speak again. It wasn’t me. I didn’t trust my voice at the moment. Even though this man had pulled me out of the frigid bay, I was sitting before him half naked, half conscious and realizing my dog now saw him as the post-bath rub down person; which meant at this moment he was more in her favor than the woman that dragged her into the frigid water.

  “Are you alright?” The man asked me quietly, a trace of smile still playing on his lips.

  When I didn’t immediately answer, he gestured to my dirty clothes heaped at the end of the pier and said with a wisp of a European accent, “It’s kind of cold to go swimming, don’t you think?”