Concerning "The Event: A Story - Part III"

 
“Is somebody up there? Hello? If someone is up there, can you help me? Please?”
I hear the voice again.
“Please? My foot is caught under some rocks and I can’t get free on my own.”
I’m torn about what I should do. If someone is actually in trouble, I will help without hesitation. Yet, I’m skeptical. What if this is someone playing tricks on me?
“Please help me,” the voice pleads. “I’m begging you.”
“Damn it,” I say to myself.
I turn away from the ledge that was my salvation, enter the forest, and hurry down the hill, skidding on leaves and pine needles as I go. I’m not certain where along the falls these calls for help are emanating so I check the upper pool. When I don’t see anybody I look over the edge again and call out, “Are you still there?”
“Yes! Yes! Please help me!”
“I’m on my way.”
As I descend, I try to keep the person talking to make it easier for me to hone in on their location.
“What’s your name?” I ask loudly.
“Danyelle.”
“Danyelle, I’ll be there as quickly as I can. How long have you been out here?”
“I’ve been here for several hours. I think it was around 7 o’clock when I got caught up in the rocks. I yelled for help until long after dark, but eventually, I gave up. I thought there was no chance of anybody finding me.”
I’m getting close. I hurdle a downed tree and continue downhill.
“Were you out here alone?” I ask.
“Yes. I had an urge to see the falls. It had been a while since I last saw them. I’m an experienced hiker, so I never expected anything to happen.”
“That’s okay,” I say as I peer through the trees, not wanting to show myself until I am sure this person is, in fact, in need of assistance. Thirty feet from me is a woman face down, her bottom half submerged in water. She struggles to drag herself out of the water yet is making no progress.
I step out from the trees. Danyelle sees me appear from the night and her eyes fill with tears.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she repeats and then continues, words tumbling from her mouth, one after another. “I was starting to think I might die out here. I know that’s irrational but for the last hour or so it’s all I’ve been able to think about. And I kept telling myself, ‘Danyelle, get it together, someone will come along eventually’ but then I’d think, “how can I get it together when I’m going to die out here. Nobody knows where I am…’”
“Danyelle,” I say as I squat down and place a hand on her shoulder "take a deep breath. You’re going to be okay.”
“Okay,” she replies, “sorry.”
        She inhales deeply and exhales slowly.
“What happened?” I inquire.
“I was hopping from one stone to another when I landed on one that was loose. It tipped, causing me to fall forward into the water and then it fell on top of my leg, trapping it.”
“Are you in any pain?”
“Not really. I don’t think I’m injured in any way. I just can't get pull my leg free. That being said, I can’t really feel my legs because they’re numb from being submerged in the water for so long.”
“Right. I’m going to take a look. Bear with me just a moment.”
“Okay.”
I can’t really see much as dark as it is so unfortunately I’m going to have to get wet. I put my head under the water. Her leg appears to be pinned by three different rocks. Her foot is wedged between two stones and the third is pinning her leg up to the knee to the bottom of the riverbed. I give the rock a quick tug but can tell it’s too heavy for me to move without assistance.
I come up for air and give my head a shake.
“All right Danyelle, I think we can get you out of here shortly. I just need to find something to pry with. I’m going to go grab a good, solid branch, and I’ll be right back. You okay?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
I disappear into the woods, find an implement long enough and strong enough to provide the leverage I need, and return to Danyelle.
“Here we go,” I say as I step into the water near her leg. I wedge the large branch under the rock, close to her knee, and then take a firm grip of the other end. I bend at the knees and pull up on my wooden crowbar. The rock moves a tiny bit but the branch slips out from under the rock and the end closest to me almost catches me under the chin.
“Sorry,” I say. “I need just another moment.”
Danyelle smiles up at me and I look around. I find a triangular stone, about the size of a volleyball, and place it under the water near Danyelle’s calf. I wedge the branch under the offending rock so that it is resting on top of the smaller one which I will use as a fulcrum. I move out to the very end and push down, using slow and even pressure. At first I can’t seem to budge the stone, then I feel it give and exert more force. The rock slowly moves up and off of Danyelle’s leg.
“Danyelle, can you move your leg?”
Danyelle pushes up on the rock in front of her with her hands and tries to pull herself out of the water. At first it looks like she won’t be able to free herself but then her body pitches forward and she crawls all the way up onto dry rock. She turns around and sits on her butt, her legs splayed out in front of her. She begins rubbing her legs vigorously, most likely hoping to warm them and to get the feeling to return.
“Thank you so much,” she says. “I can’t believe I got myself into that kind of situation. I feel like a right idiot.”
I slowly let the rock settle back into place and remove the branch from the water, tossing it toward the bank.
“Honestly, don’t worry about it. These things happen.”
“All the same, I really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. How are your legs feeling?”
“They’re still a bit numb.”
“Do you want to try standing?”
“Yeah, all right. That’s probably a good idea.”
I step to her and offer my hand. She grabs on and I help her up. She’s definitely unsteady on her feet but other than that it doesn’t look like she’s suffered any real damage.
“How are you doing?” I ask.
“I think I’m going to be okay. I might need to take my time getting back to the car but I think I’m going to be fine.”
“Be careful out there.”
“You’re not walking out with me?”
“I’d rather not, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, okay. I thought maybe you’d make sure I made it back to my car safely.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to, but I’m not comfortable walking along that trail.”
“How did you get here?”
“I came from that direction,” I reply, gesturing with my thumb toward the forest behind me.
“Oh, all right. I just assumed…”
“That’s okay. You have to forgive me. Over the last many months I’ve become accustomed to being on my own. You know how it is, it’s difficult to know whom you can trust nowadays.”
“Right. I guess I know what you mean. Well, thank you once more for coming to my aid. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along.”
“You’re welcome.”
Danyelle picks up the bag that was sitting next to her when I arrived. She turns away and searches for a dry, safe way to cross the water between her and the trail. I can tell she’s still unsteady. I know she’s not injured but she probably could use a hand getting back to her car. Though it’s still not a service I’m willing to provide, I feel guilty about leaving her in this condition.
Before she gets too far, I say, “Danyelle?”
        She turns. “Yes?”
        “I still don’t feel comfortable walking with you back to your car, but I can offer to take you to my place and make you something to eat. That way your legs will have time to regain their feeling and the food will help to replenish some of your energy and strength. I know it’s not much, but..”
        “That sounds nice, actually.”
        I walk over to Danyelle, take her bag from her, and help her move from rock to rock until we climb up the short bank and enter the forest. I take a roundabout way back to the bunker. Part of me feels guilty for making Danyelle walk more than she should have to, but I don’t want to take the chance of her being able to pinpoint my location.
        She looks a little confused when I reach down and lift up a section of the forest floor. She seems even more perplexed when she realizes there are steps underneath it. I lead her down the stairs into my home. I turn on the lantern and tell her to have a seat at the small table.
        “I don’t have much right now, but I can cut up some vegetables and make some pasta with sauce. How does that sound?”
        “I’m pretty famished, so it sounds really delicious.”
        I fill a pot with some water and put it on the stove to boil.
        “Feel free to look around,” I say. “I know it’s not much, but we’re safe here, and it does provide a modicum of comfort.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Ever since The Event.”
        “The Event?”
        “Oh, sorry, that’s just what I call it. When the shit hit the fan, this was the only place left for me to go.”
“Oh, okay. Did you build this?”
“No. My uncle had it built during the Cold War. He showed it to me when I was little. Told me if I ever needed a place to hide, I should come here.”
“That’s incredible.”
“I’m lucky, I know.”
“I’m so sorry, I just realized I‘ve yet to ask you your name.”
“My name is Kristen.”
“It’s nice to meet you Kristen.”
“Likewise,” I say.
        I step over to a small door in the wall situated near the table. I open it up, reach inside, and pull out three carrots and two apples. I place them on the counter and grab the bag of walnuts I have stashed in a cupboard.
        “Kristen, do you have a bathroom I can use?” Danyelle inquires.
        “Yes, of course. I’m sorry, I should have given you a tour when we came down. I’m not used to having guests.”
        I point to the opening to the right of the kitchen area.
        “Just through there. It’s the only room off of that storage area.”
        “Thank you,” she says, rising from her chair.
        I watch her walk across the room and it’s clear she’s feeling better. While she’s using the lavatory I grate the carrots and apples coarsely and give the walnuts a rough chop. I toss all three into a bowl and add the pasta to the water which has begun boiling. I also put the sauce on to heat up.
        “You have quite the setup here,” Danyelle comments as she returns from the restroom. “Where does the water come from?”
        “There is a large water storage container buried nearby. It can collect rain water as well as other types of runoff. And the little bit of electricity I use is provided by solar panels mounted in several nearby trees.”
        “Your uncle certainly was prepared. Did he ever use it?”
        “He did once. Even though it was built in case of a nuclear fallout, he once hid in it for a short period of time when he found out some not-so-upstanding persons were looking for him. I don’t really know too much about the situation though. He worked for the government and couldn’t reveal too much without putting others in peril.”
        “Wow. That’s crazy.”
        “Yeah. Unfortunately, after that incident, I didn’t see him very often. I believe he had to leave the country for diplomatic reasons and I only really saw him on a few holidays after that.”
        A few minutes later, everything is ready to eat. I put two place settings at the table and bring over the pasta and salad. I even splurge on the beverages since I don’t often have visitors. Inside the root cellar, along with the carrots, apples, and other food items, are a couple of cases of Coca-Cola. On the far southern end of town is a Coca-Cola warehouse. Not long after The Event, I made two trips there to scavenge what I could. It was for occasions just like this that I thought it might be nice to have some lying around.
        “I’ve been saving these for a celebration of some sort,” I explain, as I pop the cap on two bottles. “Since I don’t see anything like that happening anytime soon, I figure having some company is as good an excuse as any. That being said, if you prefer water, I can get that for you instead.”
        “No, this is fine. I’m impressed with how well stocked you are here.”
        “I always figured it was important to get what you can while you can to be prepared for any time that you can’t. Beau and I go on missions into town whenever possible so we can stay well-stocked.”
        “Who’s Beau?” Danyelle asks.
        I’m annoyed at myself for the slip of the tongue.
        Without looking up I say, “I’m sorry. I should have been using the past tense. Beau was my dog. A Sad-Man shot him just over a week ago. Beau was all I had left from the days before The Event.”
        Before I am done speaking, tears begin to leak from the corners of my eyes.
        “Oh my God, I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
        “It’s all right,” I say, dabbing my eyes with my napkin. “It’s still fresh.”
        Danyelle nods and eats a bit of salad. We eat in silence for a while until Danyelle asks me another question.
        “Kristen, I don’t mean to bring it up again, but you said Beau was shot by a Sad-Man. What’s a Sad-Man?”
        “Forgive me,” I say, clearing my throat. “That’s another one of my own terms. That’s what I call those people driving around acting like they’re law enforcement, trying to become important by tearing others down. They’ve been after me for a while now and I think they’re getting angry they haven’t been able to catch me. I’m sure they were trying to shoot me the other night, but…”
        I look away from Danyelle because I don’t want to cry again and also because I can feel anger rising up inside of me. I do not want to cry in front of this person, nor let her see me angry. She seems nice and I want her to think similarly about me. I perform my breathing exercises quickly and quietly while looking at the wall and when I look at Danyelle again I smile weakly.
        Danyelle smiles too then reaches across the table and gives my hand a quick but comforting squeeze. For the rest of dinner we talk very little. We eat quickly because we are both very hungry, even if it is for very different reasons.
        After we polish off every last morsel of food I prepared, she asks if I want help cleaning up.
        “Thank you, but no,” I say. “It won’t take me long.”
        “All right. Would you mind terribly if I washed up and then lied down for a bit?”
        “Of course not.”
        She disappears into the bathroom again and I give each dirty dish and utensil a very quick once over. Normally I would be a bit more diligent, but I have something else I want to do instead.
        Danyelle comes out from the back room and slips into my bed. Her eyes are heavy with sleep. I know I will sleep soon as well but I want to make sure she’s comfortable and resting before I stroll through dreamland.
        Danyelle gives me a funny look as I approach the bed and kneel down. I reach under the bed and pull out the one true extravagance I went out of my way to find after The Event: a simple Yamaha keyboard. I take it over to the table and sit down in front of it. I close my eyes and start to play, letting my fingers coax a soft, ethereal tune from the keys. After a sixteen bar lead-in I open my mouth and lyrics pour out. It’s a song about a little girl whose best friends are dryads. When I finish the song, I look over at Danyelle; she has fallen asleep. I cover her up, blow up a sleeping pad I have on hand, turn off the lantern, and go to sleep.

        When I wake up, Danyelle is gone. I’m not really sure how to process this information. At first I wonder if I dreamt up the entire scenario. Perhaps I wished her into existence to talk myself down off the ledge. Although that’s a possibility, I don’t think that’s what happened. First off, the dishes are where I left them to dry and there are two place settings. Of course, if I had imagined her, I suppose I could have used and washed two place settings, but the thing I could not have done was eat as much food as I prepared. Also, the bed is made, and that is most definitely something I would not have done.
        I get up and use the restroom: I use the facilities, brush my teeth, wash my face. I feel better but a little bit sad. I knew it was unlikely Danyelle would stick around, but a part of me was hoping she would. I am awfully tired of being alone. I loved having Beau around, and with him by my side, living in this world was bearable. However, because it had been so long since my last conversation with another human being, I didn’t realize how much I missed it until last evening.
        I’m looking at myself in the mirror, putting my hair up into a ponytail, when I hear the upper door being lifted. I revert into survival mode.
        I kill the light in the bathroom and grab the scissors out of the basket to the right of the sink. It’s the closest thing to a weapon I have on hand. I’m hoping against all hope that this is Danyelle, and Danyelle alone, but I cannot make that assumption. What if she was working with the Sad-Men all along?
        I hear only one set of footsteps coming down the concrete stairs. I know this should relax me but it doesn’t. I cannot tell whose footsteps they are and even if I could that doesn’t mean there aren’t people up above waiting for me to reveal myself.
        “Kristen, are you here?”
        It’s Danyelle. I don’t respond.
        “Kristen, where are you? I just went out for a walk to get some fresh air. I thought I would be back before you woke up. Kristen?”
        I still don’t speak. I can hear her coming this way. I press myself against the wall separating me from the living area. The moment she steps through the doorway I wrap my arm around her head, holding my hand to her mouth. The scissors are at her neck.
“Don’t make a sound,” I whisper. “Did you bring anybody here with you?”
        Her eyes pop out at me, terrified. She shakes her head no. I pull her back into my chest and using her body as a shield, we walk into the main section of the bunker. There’s nobody there.
I whisper in her ear again.
        “Are there people waiting outside for me?”
        Again, she shakes her head no. I’m still unwilling to chance it. It’s awkward, but I walk her to the steps and then up to the door, making sure to make as little noise as possible. Once the door is in reach, I set the scissors down silently on one of the steps and then lock the door as quickly as I can.
        I let Danyelle go as well as a breath I didn’t know I was holding onto. Danyelle scoots away from me, pressing her back into the opposite wall, a mixture of fright and anger on her face.
        “I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to hurt you. Even if you had brought someone with you I wouldn’t have hurt you. I admit I would have used you to make my escape, but that is all, believe me.”
        “You’re really terrified of being caught, aren’t you?”
        “Of course I am! Are you not? Believe me when I say these people do not wish you joy and happiness. Only the dispensation of suffering resides in their hearts. One day they will show up on your doorstep and deliver you unto the gates of Hell!”
        I don’t know why but I realize saving this woman was a huge mistake. I forever cling to the tiniest speck of hope that humanity is good and that iota of faith duped me into caring about a world that doesn’t give a damn about me. I should have flung myself into the arms of Death when I had my chance. And before I know it I am pounding my fists into my legs. Punishing myself for my delusions about the good in the world. All I can feel is the force of my balled up hands hammering my innocent knees and in a way it’s comforting. And then, someone is at my side. Danyelle has moved from her position opposite me to beside me. She pins my arms to my sides and holds me, rocking me back and forth on the steps in the darkness. Much like Beau, she doesn’t have to say anything to me. Just her presence, her warmth, her calm, pull me out of the vortex of negativity I was spiraling into.
        She leads me down the steps and over to the bed, all the time, never letting go. She lays me down on the bed and covers me up. Then she walks over to the table, where I left the keyboard last night, and she begins to play. She plays Bill Evans’s Peace Piece. [Click on the song title if you want to hear the song.] As I listen, the tension slowly seeps from my body. My muscles relax and I can think clearly again.
        When she’s finished playing, I attempt to atone for my misdeeds.
        “You play beautifully.”
        “Thank you,” she replies. “I don’t play much anymore but taking piano lessons is one of those things you have to do at a young age if you’re expected to be a well-rounded individual. Although I hated it at the time, whenever I have the opportunity to play now, I’m thankful my parents made me learn all those years ago. I learned that particular beauty for a recital I gave when I was sixteen.”
        “Danyelle,” I begin, switching courses, “please forgive me for how I acted earlier. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ve just worked so hard to keep this place a secret. It is my only haven.”
        Danyelle comes and sits down next to me.
        “I should have realized,” she said. “To be honest, when I went out this morning, I didn’t necessarily think I would be returning. I think my original intent was to find my way back to my car and leave you to your own devices but two things brought me back. One, and I’m ashamed to admit this, I knew I would probably get lost. More importantly, though, I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye. I know we know very little about one another, but for you to help me when you had no reason to trust me, well, that was just such an amazing thing to do. I couldn’t just walk away and leave you here all alone.”
        “I’m glad you came back,” I said.
        “Me too.”
        I get up and make us some breakfast, using the last few eggs I had cooling in the root cellar. I will have to go out later and collect some more. After we eat, she packs up her things and I gear up.
        “You certainly don’t go anywhere unprepared, do you?” she asks.
        “I try not to,” I respond, slipping the police radio into my bag. “Although this will be the first time I’ve gone anywhere other than the falls in over a week. But I need to bulk up my food supplies and see if there’s any news on what’s happening around here. I shouldn’t have kept myself out of the loop for so long.”
        We grab our things and head out. I squint as I open the door. It’s been a while since I’ve been outside during the day time. Because of my self-imposed isolation and my encounter with Danyelle, I’m wholly off my schedule. As I let the door settle back into place, I’m feeling anxious about being left alone again. I know Danyelle probably needs to get back to a loved one or take care of her own survival situation, but I’ve enjoyed her company and really don’t want her to go.
        “Do you want to take a walk with me before I show you to your car?” I ask. “I know you probably have somewhere you need to be but…”
        “Actually, I would really like that.”
        In my excitement to have the opportunity to spend more time with a fellow human, I take her to all of my favorite places scattered through the forest. I take her to see my favorite tree, a large oak that feels like it’s been around for centuries. It must measure twenty-five feet around and has at least four branches that would make good-sized trees on their own. I show her a small opening in the forest Beau and I would visit from time to time that blossoms with buttercups in the spring and is fruitfully littered with wild strawberries. I show her one of the traps I have set out and let her release the cottontail that is caught inside. Rabbit is good eating, and I’m sorry to see it go, but Danyelle couldn’t bear the thought of me killing it, so I acquiesce to her pleas of release. And then I take her to the rock where I buried Beau. I brought some beef jerky with me just so we could enjoy a nibble here just as Beau and I would have done. As we snack, I reminisce, telling Danyelle about the adventures Beau and I shared and explain how important he was to me as a companion.
        “How long did you have Beau?” she asks.
        “Seven years.”
        “I cannot imagine the bond you formed with him, especially since being forced to move out here.”
        “I’ve never met a single person who understood me the way Beau did. He was my lone source of comfort and when he was taken from me, I didn’t know how to go on. I still don’t, not really.”
        “Sure you do. You took care of him as much as or maybe even more so than he did you. You’ve survived out here because of your abilities, not Beau’s. He may have buoyed you in times of trouble but it was you who provided for the two of you. I know people who would kill for a fraction of the determination you seem to possess.”
        “I know you’re right, but it was a whole lot easier to do the things I did with him by my side.”
        “I imagine it was. Life in general is easier to bear when you have someone to bear it with.”
        I stand up and look southward. All I can see are trees but I’m picturing something else in my mind.
        “Can I take you one other place before you go?” I ask.
        Danyelle rises from the rock and takes my hand in hers. I lead her to one of my many trails and we follow Kiersten to the place I want to go.
        By the time we reach our destination, dusk approaches. Much like Claire, Kiersten leads us to an area near the house at the end of Rosewood Dr. As we look upon my favorite little split-level, I describe to Danyelle all of the things I envision when looking down upon it. The kids, a dog (not Beau this time, but a puppy of some sort) chasing a ball, sipping wine by the pool. Danyelle says she’s always wanted something like that and we talk about the lives we would lead if things were different.
        It’s too dark to see the house, but before we leave I want to do something else first. I pull the radio out of my backpack.
        “Where did you get the radio?” Danyelle inquires.
        “I stole it from the police station. It wasn’t my finest hour. I wanted to get in and out without being seen but unfortunately it didn’t work out that way. They know I have it but right now it’s the only means I have to check up on them. I used to be able to track them from the bunker but I think they were getting wise to that. Even using this seems to carry with it some dangers. I’m just hoping I can catch a quick snippet of something useful and then hightail it out of here.”
        I turn the radio on. Almost immediately the voice of the Sad-Woman jumps out at me.
        “We’ll just have to wait until we receive more information. Until we can get actual coordinates, we can’t go after her.”
        I switch the radio off. That’s all I need to hear. I toss the device into my pack and get up.
        “Let’s go,” I say to Danyelle.
        She hesitates for a moment and then realizes I’m telling her to move quickly without saying it outright. We head due east, not following any specific path.
        “What did you hear?” Danyelle whispers to me through the darkness of the forest.
        “They don’t know exactly where I am. That's a good thing and there’s no reason to believe they have any means to figure it out any time soon.”
        “Kristen, wait.”
        I stop, waiting for Danyelle to catch up. I didn’t realize how quickly I was moving. The knowledge that I’m still off their radar has me energized.
        “Kristen, where are we going?”
        “I thought I should finally take you back to your car. I’ve kept you out here long enough.”
        “What if I told you I didn’t want to go back?”
        "Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”
        “Not really. At least not immediately.”
        “You want to stay with me?”
        “If you wouldn’t mind.”
        I throw my arms around her, hugging her fiercely. She reciprocates. It’s an amazing feeling. It reminds me of the times Beau would press his body into mine whenever he knew I needed to be comforted. Tears drip from my eyes. I let go of Danyelle and wipe my face. I smile sheepishly. I grab her hand and continue in the direction we were heading. I’m not letting her leave but I don’t want to leave her car where anyone could find it.
        After making sure no one is hiding in the area her car is parked, Danyelle and I drive south along Rundle Rd until it meets Locke. We take a right onto Locke and follow it until it intersects Tree Line Rd. We drive north for about a mile and a half until I ask her to take a right onto a private drive. There is a gate prohibiting access beyond. I hop out of the car and pick the lock that secures the chain holding the gate closed. I swing the gate open and Danyelle drives through. I close the gate, replace the chain and lock, and jump back into the car. This road ends about a third of a mile from Tree Line. There's very little chance anyone would find it here. We leave the car and hike Giza back to the bunker.
While Danyelle sleeps, I go out on a mission. This morning I’m following Sneezy into town. Sneezy runs parallel to Grumpy and will take me farther south than any of the other trails. It is the longest trail I use but also the safest. Sneezy allows me to remain among the trees all the way to Rt 4, which I can easily pass under where it spans a small ravine. From there I can go north, pass through a copse of trees, traverse two large fields, and come out right behind a locally owned grocery store as well as a second hand clothing store.
        It only takes me twenty minutes to procure what I need from the two stores. I take some foodstuffs from the grocer and various pieces of black clothing in Danyelle’s size from the second hand store.
Danyelle is at least four inches taller than I am and broader at the shoulders. There is no way any of my clothes would have fit her. The final test of whether she can be trusted or not is to take her on a mission with me. If she can handle herself and doesn’t blow my cover, she’ll have proved her trustworthiness.
When I return, Danyelle is awake, reading a book. It’s my copy of Little Women. It is the only book I brought from home when I came here after The Event. It was a Christmas gift from my mother when I was fourteen years old. I have read it more times than I like to admit and since Beau’s passing, it has become my most prized possession.
“Hi Kristen,” Danyelle greets me as I come in. “I love this book, and by the looks of this copy, you do too.”
“Yes, that’s accurate,” I reply with a smile.
“It’s been well-loved,” she says, running her fingers along one of the many pieces of tape helping to keep it together. “Do you read it often?”
“At least once a year.”
“That’s incredible. Wait, have you read it more than once a year?”
“Sometimes. It depends.”
“How many times do you think you’ve read it?”
“Um, I don’t know. 47?”
“That’s amazing! You must know it by heart.”
“I could give you a detailed retelling but I certainly couldn’t quote everything verbatim.”
“But my guess is there are certain parts you could.”
        “Possibly.”
        “I don’t know if I’ve ever liked anything enough to read it more than twice.”
“My Mom gave it to me when I was fourteen and it became a tradition for us to read it once a year and discuss how our views and opinions about the characters and events differed from year to year. But she was busy, so it would take her longer to read than it would for me, so I would just reread it until she was finished reading it once.”
“What an incredible thing to share with your mother. Where is she now?”
“She was one of the unfortunate people that did not make it through The Event.”
“Oh, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“That’s all right,” I said. “My mother was a professor of literature, so discussing books was kinda her thing. I’m happy she passed it along to me. It gives me a way to feel connected to her even though she isn’t here anymore.”
“That’s really wonderful. What did you do before The Event?”
“I was a songwriter.”
“Were you a musician?”
“Not really. I can play piano and guitar but I only play for myself or while I’m working. I don’t like to perform in front of others. So I wrote songs and other musicians paid me for them.”
“The song you were singing the night I met you, did you write that?”
“Yes.”
“It was beautiful.”
“Thank you. What did you do before The Event?”
“I worked at the Medical Center.”
“What did you do there?”
“I was a doctor.”
“Are you serious?”
“Dr Pellner, at your service.”
“A doctor of what?”
“Neurobiology.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“I am not.”
“Wow. I feel a bit...inadequate.”
“That’s crazy. I might be able to play piano but I can’t compose music. And I certainly don’t have the survival skills you do. I may know a bit about the brain and how it works, but my knowledge base doesn’t extend much further than that.”
“I’m still impressed.”
“Thank you. Anway, where did you go off to?”
“I went shopping.”
I show Danyelle the items I snatched while out. She tries on the clothes and for the most part I chose well. The pants are a bit long but that actually works in her favor. I wasn’t able to find any footwear for her, so the extra length will help cover her hiking boots. Not that they should stand out much, but they are light gray with sky blue trimming, so if her pants come down over them a bit, it’ll help keep them less visible.
“What’s our mission, fearless leader?” Danyelle asks.
I roll my eyes at her.
“Originally I thought we would make a gear run but now I’m thinking we should hit up the Medical Center. I only bring it up because I may have just met someone who might have access to areas that even I can’t get into.”
Danyelle’s eyes open wide at the suggestion. I can tell immediately how uncomfortable the idea makes her, yet I feel like it’s the perfect opportunity for me to stockpile some things I do not already have and see if she’s someone I can put my trust in.
“I’m not sure if that’s such a great idea,” she says.
“I get it. It is not the safest place in the world to break into. The Sad-People still use it for countless demented purposes. But there are things in there that I can’t get to just by picking locks and it takes too much time to do with all of the people walking around in there. I’ve been able to get in and out without being seen to grab really basic things, but I don’t have anything like antibiotics or pain medications that would be useful.”
Danyelle sits down on the bed, face in her hands. She’s considering it. I want to make another plea but don’t want to overdo it.
        “All right,” she says, “but this will be done in as little time as possible. If I’m seen I don’t know what will happen to me. It’s possible someone will know I’m a doctor and think I should be there doing my part. Make me a list of things you need. Then take me there. I will go in while you wait outside.”
        I try to protest but she doesn’t allow me.
        “Sorry, I’m not taking you in with me. If there are two of us, it will be harder to move around unseen. I know exactly where I need to go. I will go directly there, wait until the coast is clear, get what I need, and come right back out. Then we come straight back here. It will be that quick and that easy. If we were going anywhere else, you could plan the whole thing and I would follow along willingly, but if you want me to do this, it has to be done my way.”
        Part of me wants to call the whole thing off. I feel uncomfortable not being in control and it doesn’t have to be done tonight. Yet, the other part of me says this is the perfect test of her integrity. And the way I look at it, if it turns out I can’t trust her, then whatever happens to me happens. I realize I’ve only known her for two days, but I can’t lose someone else again and still find the desire to go on.
        “Fair enough,” I say.
        We take a seat at the table and she outlines her plan.

        Like he did for Beau and I a week and a half ago, Grumpy leads Danyelle and I to the rear of the Medical Center. As it turns out, it shouldn’t take Danyelle too long to accomplish her task, assuming they haven’t changed all of the entrance codes. She assumes the codes for the main entrance were changed but doubts they thought about the emergency exits at the back of the building.
        We hide in the tree line running along Hospital Dr which circles around the Medical Center. Hospital Dr is not blocked off to civilian use but was really only used by supply trucks making deliveries, so it would have been surprising to see anybody on it. Right now it’s quiet and the Medical Center is clearly visible 200 ft away.
        I look at Danyelle. It’s interesting to see what she looks like full of gear. I imagine this is how I appear to others. I have to admit, it’s intimidating. But since she’s the one putting herself in harm’s way, I figure it should be she who gets to carry the essentials. Granted, most of my jacket gear is still on my person but she has the backpack and the gun.

We watch the rear of the building for about ten minutes just to see if we notice anything unusual but it looks like gaining admittance shouldn’t be too difficult. If her code doesn’t work, she’ll signal to me and that will be my cue to come and pick the lock for her.
        Danyelle looks at me one last time. I squeeze her shoulder, whisper “good luck”, and watch as she scampers across the road. She goes directly for the door on the far right. It takes only seconds for her to disappear inside.

I keep watch while she’s gone. I’m a nervous wreck; I have no control and I’m also worried about my new friend. As each minute passes, my anxiety rises. “Breathe,” I remind myself. I take a few deep breaths, making sure to exhale slowly. She knows what she’s doing. Without a doubt, she’s just having to wait for rooms to clear out before entering them. When my watch tells me she’s been gone fifteen minutes, I start to pace. I know I shouldn’t be, as the movement or the tiny bit of noise I’m making could give me away, but I’m starting to freak out. I pinch my arm and not in an “Am I awake?” kind of way. I pinch it hard enough for the pain to distract me. It doesn’t last long but it’s enough. I go back to breathing.
        “Everything is going to be all right. Everything is going to be all right.”
        I hear a noise behind me and I know she’s betrayed me.
        I won’t be going home, because without something to live for, I don’t want to, but that doesn’t mean I’m going down without a fight. I pull my knife as I spin around, thrusting it out in front of me. It plunges deep into soft tissue. It’s my backpack. Danyelle is holding it in front of her.
        “Kristen, it’s me,” she says too late.
        “I could have sliced you wide open. What are you doing coming up behind me like that?”
        “I couldn’t come back out the way I went in. There were people in the stairwell smoking. I waited for a bit but when they didn’t move, I knew you’d be worried, so I came out one of the side exits. Unfortunately, from there, I had to circle around the other medical services buildings. I’m sorry I startled you.”
        “It’s okay. We’ll need to come up with an auditory signal we can use next time so I don’t attempt to murder you accidentally again.”
        I throw the backpack on so she doesn’t have to carry it and we head home.

        We lie in bed, each of us with a book in our hands. I’m reading The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon and she’s reading The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. For some reason she’s never read it, so I told her, in no uncertain terms, that she cannot stay if she doesn’t read it.
        After an hour or so of reading she turns to me and says, “I think I’m done reading for tonight.”
        “Okay. Are you tired?”
        “Not yet. I was wondering though, would you play me a song?”
        I retrieve the keyboard and bring it over to the bed. Danyelle listens quietly as I experiment with some chords. Finally it sounds right and I sing to her:

Born unto two lovers

Who loved me too too well

I never expected a life

Too too close to Hell

When I thought all was lost

Never to be found

I was rescued by

The sweetest of sounds

Carried upon an angel’s wing

Up and out of the abyss

Came the sound of your voice

And it is why I sing this

You gave me a reason

To keep Death at bay

To rejoin the world

To wade through the fray

You gave me a reason

The only one I need

To keep on fighting

Even when I bleed

In two too short days

Into two friends we’ve turned

And though I’m anticipating the day

We become two too spurned

You’ve provided a hope

To which I’ll cling

You’ve provided hope

A reason to sing

So I sing to you

These words from me

These words penned

So inadequately

You are my reason

To give life a chance

For choosing to stay

To have one more dance

You are my reason

The only one I need

For taking the risk

Of feeling freed

        I keep my eyes closed for a moment before risking a glance in Danyelle’s direction. When I finally chance it, she smiles at me. I blush in response and just as I’m about to speak, she leans in and kisses me on the mouth. Her lips are the velvety softness of rose petals; I cannot help but kiss her back. Goose pimples appear on my flesh. Where her hand has come to rest on my arm, my skin tingles. My entire body is a collection of joyous sensations and I fall contentedly into her arms.

        Screams bounce off the walls as I feel Danyelle ripped from my arms. There are at least five other people in the bunker with us. A Sad-Man, the Sad-Woman, two people I have never seen before, and one person who looks vaguely familiar. I fight with every fiber of my being. I punch, kick, claw, and bite. The Sad-Man alone was able to subdue Danyelle but it takes three to get me calm enough for the fourth to be able to stick me with a needle. In fact, they have to stick me twice because I refuse to go quietly. As the darkness of forced sleep drifts over me, I’m pretty sure I’m able to land a kick to the jaw of the Sad-Woman.