Before he was quarantined, they found their own holding place until dawn. It was after a hard day of walking. Watching people reluctant to join tent cities, camped out in the streets, eating out of cans, some of the cans being dog food. It hadn’t even been that long. How much longer would it be before there was no food?
They saw children on the street alone. Watching the military occupation gather the children as they cried for their parents.
They were dirty and hungry and needed love and there wasn’t enough arms left in the world to hold them.
It was a desolate world, gray in color, dark in hope. It was a different world than in Maltese. They dealt with the sick, but the town was unscathed and preparing to hunker down and be its own self sufficient entity. Kit was optimistic about Maltese, but she wasn’t so positive about everywhere else.
While discouraged about the long term outcome of the human race, she told Abe. “It’s screwed up. You know we run into people who say they are helping the occupation, but plan to go off on their own. Some like Jonas, just want to find their family and see what tomorrow brings. Some people think they have it together. The truth is they can plan this, plan that, go here and there, but there is no certainty that it will work.”
“Well, I’m certain,” Abe said. “I have been thinking of a long term plan.”
“You have a long term plan that you’re certain will work?”
“Yep.” He nodded. “I want to get a yacht, a big one and find an island. Wanna come?”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” Kit chuckled. “You got that yacht idea when Jonas used it as an analogy for winning the war.”
“Yep.” He smiled.
She never did bother asking if he knew how to drive a yacht, if that was even what manning a boat was called. She liked his plan. If she ever found her family or learned of their fate, she would make it an option, no matter how outlandish it was. Abe probably did know where there were islands. After all, he probably flew over many.
Then there was Deana. She had to be alive, probably working herself to death helping others. For as mean spirited and angry as Deana projected, she had a good heart. Did Kit’s father ever find her, or come close?
Deana was her only sibling left. Regis and Mark were gone. Her last vision of them burned in her memory. She would never forget, their bodies facing the rubble, huddled together in an embrace, dying in a quest to find Mark’s son.
Kit couldn’t let her quest end in her death. It was something she had to think about. Each day she searched was a day she took a chance that anything could happen. It wasn’t as if she were alone, she still had Zeke. She was certain beyond any doubt, that Zeke was fine. Harland was taking good care of him. Probably working him hard, but her son was fine.
She had to remember he was out there, too.
All the time she spent alone without Abe, while he was quarantined, filled her with a sense of missing people and sadness. She missed her daughter with all of her heart and wanted so much to find her, but at what cost to Kit and even more so, what cost to Zeke?
On the tenth day, Abe was released from quarantine. The doctors wanted him to stay, but Abe refused. He looked gaunt, his speckled gray hair was even more gray and he lost at least ten more pounds. His thin arms were bruised from intravenous lines.
There was no way, if he didn’t eat right or rest properly that Abe was going to keep any strength.
He wanted to leave the camp as soon s possible, and urged Kit to gather her belongings.
It wasn’t much, it didn’t take long, and they were back on the road before noon.
“I’m sorry,” he said to Kit. “I’m sorry they kept me away for so long.”
“Don’t be silly, you were sick,” Kit replied. “This was a big camp. It took that long to check everybody.”
“No luck?”
“No.”
“Where now?” Abe asked. “Olympia?”
“I highly doubt they are all the way done there. There is still another big camp near Tacoma and more we haven’t hit in Seattle.”
“If we don’t get kicked out,” Abe said.
“They didn’t kick us out because they thought you had some sort of contagious disease, and were looking for help” Kit said as they walked. “I got news for you, you don’t look much better. We aren’t getting stopped.”
“Gee thanks. Do I look that bad?”
“Yeah, Abe, yeah you do.”
They headed toward the large camp Kit had heard about. Although, they didn’t really have a clue where it was Kit figured they’d keep heading north, eventually they’d stumble across something that big. They had a proximity, not an exact location.
During the six mile walk, they had to stop several times. Abe kept losing his breath and strength and would break into coughing fits.
Kit was angry not at Abe’s illness, but at herself. She was pushing him, even if he wanted to do it. She was debating on turning him into the next camp for being sick, just so he could get more treatments. She would search on her own. She’d rather have him mad at her than die on her.
Kit couldn’t take another person dying on her.
The fourth time they stopped to take a break, a citizen patrol worker spotted them and recognizing how ill Abe looked, said there was a camp a mile ahead that had medical resources. He even offered to see if he could find Abe a ride.
They declined, but wished they would have when they arrived at the Fife Industrial Park and saw the huge group of people.
Was there that many people needing shelter and help six weeks after the bombs? It seemed insane. Of all the camps, they never saw such a large group waiting. It was so big, they couldn’t see if indeed there was a camp ahead.
They all were crammed close together, where had they come from? There was a lot of mumbling and chatter.
Finally, Kit asked a woman. “Is this the only camp near here?”
“I guess,” the woman said.
“So this is the line to get in?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Everyone is waiting to look at, or post on the wall.”
“I’m sorry… the what?”
“The wall,” the woman explained “This is the biggest one I have seen. People searching for family, they post here, or look. There’s another down in Olympia, it’s nowhere near this big. This one’s about a hundred feet. I was here last week, took me almost an hour to look through every sign or flyer. I’m hoping my husband saw my sign.”
Kit looked immediately at Abe. “Jonas never mentioned a wall.”
“He probably never made it here,” Abe said. “Do you have anything to write on, to leave a sign.”
“I have pictures I took from my moms,” Kit said excitedly. “I can use one of those.”
The woman turned around to Kit. “Don’t forget to date it. Let’s them know how long ago it was you were here.”
Kit thanked her.
She was excited at the prospect of looking at the wall. It actually invigorated her, the entire process of waiting. She even laughed at Abe’s joke that it was the new era of social media called posting on walls.
How true that was, especially when Kit realized people weren’t mumbling, they were ‘passing on’ names.
It was extraordinary.
“James Price, twenty-four, brown hair, green eyes.” And the name would repeat over and over as people passed it on.
Mary Higgins, fifty three gray hair, short.
Mary Higgins
Mary Higgins….
“I met a Mary about that age down near Parkland,” someone shouted. “Got a picture?”
It was continuous and almost rehearsed. No one talked over each other and it made Kit wonder how many times these folks had been at the wall.