THIRTY-FIVE

Rachel scanned the other side of the river. A combination of dead and living trees started a few feet from shore and climbed up the sides of a steep hill topped by boulders. Near the top she could see the entrance to a cave. They could take refuge amongst the boulders or start a fire with dead wood and go on the offensive. Why hadn’t she grabbed the matches from the church? Rachel looked to her left. The crabs were closer. Three in the front, a few behind them, more erupting from the blue-green scum downstream.

Adam was retching from the stink engulfing the bay, but still flailing toward land. It was shallower now, and the water only reached his knees. Rachel stopped moving, stayed in the water to give him time. She pulled off one of the packs so she could move, dropped it down onto the rocks below. It was pulled away in the current, dragging against the rocks. The rocks. Rachel reached down and grabbed a slimy rock. She wound up and threw it at the lead crab like an opening pitch.

The rock hit the shell and bounced off. It turned to her. Horseshoe crabs weren’t supposed to be violent, but Rachel had no doubt of their intent to pull her apart. The energy from the crabs pushed against her, as if already pulling her under. Rachel threw another rock, but it splashed harmlessly between two. Glancing at Adam to see he’d made it to shore, Rachel snapped her attention back too late. The first crab was upon her. The hard shell bumped her a moment before the creature’s legs hooked her clothing, climbing her body. The topmost leg sliced open a gash in the skin of her abdomen. Rachel shrieked in surprised pain. Numbness radiated through her body in concentric circles.

Rachel backed away, swinging the pack off her back and knocking it into the creature. It fell with a splash. Two others closed in. She stood in the water up to her thighs and swung her pack again and again in a circle. The ice in her abdomen began to thaw, burning as sensation reluctantly returned.

“Mom!”

Rachel looked over in time to catch the branch that Adam threw to her. It was the size of a staff and Rachel used it to push the closest zombie away. It swam towards her again.

“Stab it,” Adam yelled. “Right through the shell.”

Rachel sent the butt straight down. It cracked the shell. The body broke into pieces and floated downstream. Wisps of black smoke rose into the air. Remembering the two-headed moose, Rachel ducked away. Another horseshoe crab was nearby. She speared it with the staff. Again and again she repeated the attack, working her way through the swarm. Finally, all the broken pieces of the zombie horseshoe crabs had floated downstream.

Rachel struggled toward shore. She dropped her pack on the ground and threw her arms around her son, burying her head on his bony shoulder.

She looked out over the water and saw black wisps continuing to rise.

“Are they on fire under the water?” Adam asked her in a whisper.

Rachel shook her head. “I don’t know, but we should climb up to that cave and take cover. I’m guessing those vulture things will come soon.”

Rachel and Adam were almost to the cave when the shrieks began. Uncanny voices raised goosebumps on Rachel’s arms. She watched through the bare trees as black creatures with diaphanous wings swooped through the air, opened their beaks, and sucked in the black smoke. They were oddly graceful in flight.

She followed Adam into the cave. Slanting light revealed bright green moss growing along one wall where water trickled down through the rock. The air inside smelled cool and fresh.

His cheeks flushed with excitement, Adam said, “Are those crabs gone now or do you think they’ll attack the next people who cross?”

“I think they’re all gone now, but I don’t know what that black smoke is. It’s not a soul, like I thought when Mr. Lee murdered that poor man. These crabs were moving, but not alive—like robots that got turned on by something.”

“My arm,” Adam interrupted. “Remember? After my arm went into the water, the algae bloom began to move. It’s like energy.”

Rachel nodded. What had The Weatherman said about this not being Newton’s world anymore, something about being back to the raw stuff of creation? “Sounds right to me. Energy vultures. They suck up the animating energy from animals or plants or … zombies.”

Adam shivered. “I’ll make a fire so we can dry off. I saw some sticks outside. Do you have the lighter?”

“I do,” she said, holding it up like a trophy. “I’ll put together dinner.” She went to the wet backpack and unloaded the contents, spreading them out to dry. “We lost a pack, but I have some zucchini in olive oil and half a loaf of bread inside a plastic bag.”

Rachel set the food down and crossed to her son, kissing him on his forehead. “I know that was really hard, crossing the water. And really scary. I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah.” Adam lay on his side, quiet and still in front of the fire. He had one arm tucked under his head, but his gaze jumped around the cave, taking it all in as if he expected the shadows to come alive and attack him. Rachel sat down and stroked his back.

“Am I going to die?”

One of the logs in the fire popped and sparks leapt. “No.”

He searched her face. “Are you lying?”

“Go to sleep. You need your rest.” She straightened his shirt and kissed his forehead again. “We’ve been in tight spots before. This,” she gestured at the strangeness of the cave, “looks new, but it isn’t. By the time your birthday comes, this’ll just be a memory.”

“My birthday?” He was getting sleepy. His mouth fell open, his brows furrowed together. A feeling of tenderness swept over Rachel at his vulnerability.

“Yup. Three more months and you’ll be twelve. We should have a party or something. Cake and balloons. What do you want for presents?”

“I don’t need anything.”

Rachel tilted her head. He lay there sick, with only the clothes on his back, no books, no iPad for games and music, yet he didn’t have a list of things he wanted. You’re such a good kid. I don’t deserve you.

“You can’t think of anything?” she asked.

“I’ve got you and Scott. Tamaki.” He blinked and lifted his head. “You’re getting me a cake, right? That sounds good.” His head went back down.

“Yup.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat.

“And candles,” he whispered. His eyes closed. “Don’t forget to invite everybody.”

“Sure. I’ll mail out invitations when we get back. Should we have a theme or will you be too old for that?”

His breathing—not quite a snore—was the only answer.

Rachel retreated to the mouth of the cave, rolled up her outer shirt to use as a pillow and stretched across the opening, knowing it was merely a show, as if she could keep anyone safe.

Standing at the entrance, Rachel stretched her shoulders and neck, muscles tight from carrying the pack. It should be sunrise, but was difficult to see with the cloud cover. Deeper in the cave, Adam snored. In sleep he sprawled, arms flung out, claiming space.

Rachel hated to wake him, but they needed to move. She tapped his calves and then his lower back, finishing by shaking his shoulder. The same ritual she’d used countless time before school.

“Go away,” he groaned, rolling over.

Rachel tried food. “Ready for breakfast? You must be starving after all that walking yesterday.”

Adam opened his eyes. “I don’t want zucchini.”

“You can have the bread. And I made you some tea.”

Adam pushed himself to a seated position. “My arm hurts.”

“Let me see.” She took Adam’s arm by the wrist and elbow, unwrapping the gauze to study the black patch. Rachel’s heart beat faster. The area still looked like burning tar had been thrown on the arm, but it had expanded up past his elbow. Black lines, like magic marker, streaked down toward his hand. Adam hissed in pain although Rachel was using the barest touch.

Her son had been examined this way countless times in the pediatric oncology ward, sitting on tables decorated with decals of soccer balls and fire engines. The sterile white paper was always the same, crinkling with every movement. Before, the doctors checked outside the body to see what was going on inside. Now the wound on the outside ate its way in, inching closer to heart center. Her stomach turned. Desperation made her rub the skin over her eyebrow, the back and forth movement methodical.

Adam kept his gaze away from his arm, as if he disowned it.

Tears pricked, along with the old anger that she couldn’t take this for him. She couldn’t take the foul-tasting chemo, the poison that made his hair fall out in the bathtub and on his pillow, the endless needles, and the surgery to put the plastic port right up against his heart wall. It still hurt to see him in pain. Rachel pulled on her hair and shoved her feelings down deep.

“How is going to the bathroom like traveling the world?” she asked.

His open hand rubbed the wall, grating the palm as if causing pain in that hand could distract from the pain in his arm.

“First you’re Russian, then European, and then Finnish.” She chewed her bottom lip. “Get it? Rushing, you-are-a-peeing, and then you’re finished?”

“Give me the pills,” he said, his voice thick.

Rachel had to take a deep breath against his pain. “They’re the last we have.”

“I know.”

Sending out a quick ‘thank you’ prayer to the universe that the pills hadn’t been in the pack that swept downstream, Rachel brought them over. Adam swallowed them without acknowledging her, keeping his face to the wall. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, desperate to do something, anything. “I’ll be right outside. We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

Rachel climbed on top of a boulder and watched the water. She heard Adam rustling in their backpack. Her feelings bubbled up and Rachel felt like a failure. She imagined herself sitting on this rock and freezing into an ice sculpture. Then a giant hammer swinging down and smashing through her so that pieces flew everywhere, melting and disappearing. That’s my depression talking, Rachel acknowledged. I’ve got to keep going.

Rachel sighed as she returned to the cave, filled the thermos with the rest of the boiled water, and zipped the pack. “Were you looking for more food earlier? Nothing is missing.”

“I was looking for more pills. Like maybe one fell in the pack or something.”

“Oh.” Rachel felt Adam’s forehead. It was warm, the fever returning. Glassy eyes and a lethargic, pale face; the same way he’d get when he needed a blood transfusion. Or platelets. He’d had plenty of both types of transfusions, typical when dealing with a blood cancer. The chemotherapy kills off all the cells. How had that doctor explained it? There were weeds in the flower garden. The combination of chemo tilled the whole effing thing under. And then Adam would need blood.

Plastic bags, each the size of Rachel’s palm, were hung from Adam’s IV pole. Crimson dripped down the tubing and into his chest. Some kids needed anti-allergy medicine before a transfusion. Not Adam. His body was starving for it, welcoming the thick liquid. They’d joked that on college applications he could put ‘mixed-race’ and get some type of scholarship. He had blood flowing through his veins from men, women, white, black, brown, and every other characteristic of a good-hearted volunteer. She and Craig had become regular donors after Adam’s diagnosis. It seemed only fair given how much Adam had needed.

“Come on, buddy. We’re almost there.” Except they weren’t.

Adam was malleable, letting her pull him to a standing position. They set off from the cave, Adam leaning on Rachel. When they got to LaPorte she’d find out whether this gamble was the correct choice. If it wasn’t, Adam wasn’t going to make it back down to Baltimore. She knew this. She suspected he did too.