September 2009

The arches of the bridge stood silent and gray over the river, rendered dark by tall overhanging trees in evening shadow. Jessie almost sobbed in relief. But when she forced her way through the brambles to the road itself, she saw it was like any other she had encountered — strafed and shredded, with upturned and jagged chunks of asphalt and littered with dead tree limbs. Already, grass grew tall in the fissures, and wildflowers bloomed unperturbed. She studied the bridge ahead and eyed the turbulent river below. Over half of the structure had been blasted away. The only remaining part was what she had seen first — the arches, and a narrow walkway above. It was a black band barely wider than a sidewalk. The rail still existed on one side; on the other, it dropped straight to the rocky debris in the water below.

“Didn’t Indiana Jones do something like this?” she asked Aaron, her voice quivering. She jostled the baby, and he remained quiet. A quick check confirmed he was still breathing, still feverish.

“We have to cross,” she said aloud. “We have to.” The alien bodies were probably piling up in the ruins beneath the bridge. It was difficult to guess where the next crossing might be. The interstate would be in far worse shape than this, and far more likely to have live Singers.

She walked to where the road met the bridge. In the high grass, twisted and melted into a vague pretzel-shape, lay a sign warning that the bridge would freeze before the road. Jessie took a steadying breath and brought the suitcase in front of her, and set it on the bridge. She waited, trying to gauge if that weight would bring it all down, then forced her feet to follow.

Thump, step. Thump, step. She kept her eyes focused on the top handle of the suitcase, on the clutch and release of her fingers. She tried to ignore the roar of the river above the raucous pounding of her heart. Thump, step. Thump, step. Finally, the suitcase met blacktop, but it sounded different. It sounded solid. With one more step, she was on the scorched pavement on the south side of the river.

“To think, back in the old days, I was never even able to stand on a ladder to change a light bulb,” she said. Perspiration plinked onto Aaron’s sling. She took a deep breath, and they went on.

They followed the road a bit farther until it curved westward, and Jessie continued her walk as due south as she could through wilderness. Trees slapped her shoulders, blackberry vines clawed at her knees. Light faded, dwindling to soft pink, and she stumbled into a small clearing. A large puddle curved along the lower end. She glanced skyward. The sky was mostly clear, but if it started to rain during the night they’d need to move on fast. This spot would turn marshy in a downpour.

She set Aaron on his blanket for tummy time. He lay like a lump, eyes blinking, his fists curled by his forehead. Jessie gathered stones and sticks, mounding some together for a fire and setting the larger sticks around Aaron in a makeshift barrier in case he decided to crawl. He didn’t. It took several tries to set the kindling alight. Jessie held her fingers over the fire and shivered. The evening felt especially cold.

A quick glance down confirmed why. Her breasts, heavy and hard from a lack of release, were seeping milk through her sweater. A broad wet band stretched across her chest. “Aaron, supper is ready,” she said, trying to smile. But again, he refused to eat. His diaper was moist only from sweat. Jessie expressed the milk into a baby bottle from the suitcase, and then into another. There was enough to try and feed him tomorrow as they walked, if he would take it. She filled the pot with puddle water, and set it on a stone beside the fire.

Night drifted over them as the fire softly roared, and the watched pot was slow to heat. “Maybe fire is holy to the Singers,” Jessie said. “Maybe that’s why they never bothered us at night in the city. If we knew that all along, we could have burned a fire all the time and stayed safe. Maybe that would have worked. Maybe. Or maybe the soldier-Singers are different than the ones we saw on the river.” She stared down at Aaron. “You know, it’ll really be nice when you can talk back to me someday. I get really tired of talking to myself.”