tone, offering instead of commanding. I thought of my
mother, and how she always spoke with such conviction while also
allowing herself to be open to other people’s opinions. I
consciously adjusted the way I spoke in an attempt to be more like
her. “We’ll take this down to 470, and then we’ll need to get off
the main roads. We don’t want to head into any areas where we can
be seen easily. Denver’s roads aren’t bad, but we’ll want to stay
away from there. It’s infested, and we heard from traders that
military vehicles would take that route from time to time. That’s
the last place we want to end up. We’ll have to head west, through
some of the suburbs. It might get a little tight in there, but if
we can make it out to the foothills the area opens up a
little.”
“You’re the boss,” said Ben.
The phrase caused me pain, as if my heart
cringed at the suggestion. I looked back into the fading highway
disappearing in my side view mirror, more aware than ever of what
I’d left behind.
* * *
“That ride would’ve taken us an hour at most
in the old days,” said Harrison. He’d been talking about the ways
the world had changed after the apocalypse. Ben and I let him
prattle on, mostly because we didn’t have anything to add. My mind
was focused on thoughts of my mother, and Ben was just naturally
quiet. Harrison happily filled the air with his stream of
consciousness. “Maybe even less. If the government was good for one
thing, it was keeping the old rat race running smoothly.”
He was talking about the current condition of
the roads, and how we frequently had to stop to clear the way on
our trip north. The Jeep was formidable, and Ben was able to go
around most of the variety of things blocking our way, but we were
trapped behind downed trees or wrecked cars every five to ten
minutes. The Rollers hadn’t been patrolling the area for several
months now, and hadn’t been clearing the roads like they usually
did. This also wasn’t one of the former trade routes, which meant
it was cared for even less.
The pavement had long ago cracked, causing
some stretches to have shifted in varying directions, like a sheet
of ice over a lake that was slowly breaking apart. Nature was quick
to reclaim as much area as possible, and plants sprang from the
gaps, utilizing dirt that had blown across the roads and got caught
in the cracks. Only buds of growth had managed to bloom so quickly
after the wane of winter, but the stalks of last year’s plants,
wilted and brown, dotted the roads.
“To and fro,” said Harrison. “To and fro,
with nowhere worthwhile to go. That’s the way it was. None of us
knew what we had. I guess none of us ever really do, at least not
till it’s gone.”
“I can’t tell if you miss the Red days or if
you hated them,” said Ben.
“I can’t tell neither,” said Harrison with a
chuckle. “Don’t get me wrong, shit was better then. But you know,
in a way, it wasn’t. Because you’ll never know how good you’ve got
it until it’s gone. That’s the truth. How the fuck would Adam ever
know how good it was in Eden unless he got his ass booted out?”
“So you think we needed the apocalypse?”
asked Ben, half-heartedly participating in Harrison’s rambling.
“No, of course not,” said Harrison. “Just
looking for a silver lining. Now that we got our asses booted out
of Eden, we can finally appreciate how good it was.”
“I don’t remember it ever being good,” I said
as I stared out the window. “I don’t remember the Red days.”
“You’re practically a Green,” said Harrison.
“Does it make you mad to hear about the Red days? Like you got the
short end of the stick or something?”
“No,” I said, but I pondered the question.
“Not mad. Maybe jealous. I’d like to live in a world where my
biggest concerns were boyfriend problems, or what sort of
restaurant I wanted to go to, or if I was saving enough for
retirement. Those are the kind of
mother, and how she always spoke with such conviction while also
allowing herself to be open to other people’s opinions. I
consciously adjusted the way I spoke in an attempt to be more like
her. “We’ll take this down to 470, and then we’ll need to get off
the main roads. We don’t want to head into any areas where we can
be seen easily. Denver’s roads aren’t bad, but we’ll want to stay
away from there. It’s infested, and we heard from traders that
military vehicles would take that route from time to time. That’s
the last place we want to end up. We’ll have to head west, through
some of the suburbs. It might get a little tight in there, but if
we can make it out to the foothills the area opens up a
little.”
“You’re the boss,” said Ben.
The phrase caused me pain, as if my heart
cringed at the suggestion. I looked back into the fading highway
disappearing in my side view mirror, more aware than ever of what
I’d left behind.
* * *
“That ride would’ve taken us an hour at most
in the old days,” said Harrison. He’d been talking about the ways
the world had changed after the apocalypse. Ben and I let him
prattle on, mostly because we didn’t have anything to add. My mind
was focused on thoughts of my mother, and Ben was just naturally
quiet. Harrison happily filled the air with his stream of
consciousness. “Maybe even less. If the government was good for one
thing, it was keeping the old rat race running smoothly.”
He was talking about the current condition of
the roads, and how we frequently had to stop to clear the way on
our trip north. The Jeep was formidable, and Ben was able to go
around most of the variety of things blocking our way, but we were
trapped behind downed trees or wrecked cars every five to ten
minutes. The Rollers hadn’t been patrolling the area for several
months now, and hadn’t been clearing the roads like they usually
did. This also wasn’t one of the former trade routes, which meant
it was cared for even less.
The pavement had long ago cracked, causing
some stretches to have shifted in varying directions, like a sheet
of ice over a lake that was slowly breaking apart. Nature was quick
to reclaim as much area as possible, and plants sprang from the
gaps, utilizing dirt that had blown across the roads and got caught
in the cracks. Only buds of growth had managed to bloom so quickly
after the wane of winter, but the stalks of last year’s plants,
wilted and brown, dotted the roads.
“To and fro,” said Harrison. “To and fro,
with nowhere worthwhile to go. That’s the way it was. None of us
knew what we had. I guess none of us ever really do, at least not
till it’s gone.”
“I can’t tell if you miss the Red days or if
you hated them,” said Ben.
“I can’t tell neither,” said Harrison with a
chuckle. “Don’t get me wrong, shit was better then. But you know,
in a way, it wasn’t. Because you’ll never know how good you’ve got
it until it’s gone. That’s the truth. How the fuck would Adam ever
know how good it was in Eden unless he got his ass booted out?”
“So you think we needed the apocalypse?”
asked Ben, half-heartedly participating in Harrison’s rambling.
“No, of course not,” said Harrison. “Just
looking for a silver lining. Now that we got our asses booted out
of Eden, we can finally appreciate how good it was.”
“I don’t remember it ever being good,” I said
as I stared out the window. “I don’t remember the Red days.”
“You’re practically a Green,” said Harrison.
“Does it make you mad to hear about the Red days? Like you got the
short end of the stick or something?”
“No,” I said, but I pondered the question.
“Not mad. Maybe jealous. I’d like to live in a world where my
biggest concerns were boyfriend problems, or what sort of
restaurant I wanted to go to, or if I was saving enough for
retirement. Those are the kind of
Similar Books
