Radiation Children

7

Not for the first time in the last few days, I had no idea what to do or where to go or how to act.

I felt frozen; every time I moved, I felt bogged down, as if by invisible mud or slime. It was hard to breathe, hard to think. Lucia and I sat with our legs stretched out in front of us, our backs to the partially intact wall of the gas station for a long time. Where could we go? It was the middle of the night, and now we knew that there were creatures out there like that horribly ravenous woman. It would be impossible to walk all night and then continue our trek in the morning, and even if we did walk, where would be walking to? It wasn't possible to just walk to Washington D.C. Where was a safe place that we could walk for the night? 

In the end, it was Lucia's idea to sleep inside one of the cars abandoned on the side of the road. She said that cars were cozy and small, and we didn't have to worry about any scary people hidden in a big building. I took several deep breaths, willing the panic down, and got up to choose a car. I picked one far from the gas station, on the left shoulder of the entrance ramp that led onto the interstate. The back doors were wide open, and the windows were smashed in, so I brushed the glass from the leather seats and carpeted floors before settling Lucia into the back seat. I checked the ignition, seats, glove compartments, and floors for keys, but after finding only cigarette butts and an old Mountain Dew can, I crawled into the back beside Lucia and shut the doors. 

Lucia rested her head on my shoulder and leaned back. She was asleep within minutes—how she was able to relax after everything that just happened was far beyond me. Children, I guess, are curious that way. I steadied more labored breaths before fishing out the first-aid kit from one of my bags and bandaged the gash on my neck. 

I wedged the back of my head was uncomfortably between the car door and the seat. There was no possible way that I would fall alseep anytime soon. 

While Lucia's breaths evened out and a string of drool slid from her parted lips onto my arm, I tried for the millionth time to form a plan. With no form of transportation, no one to help us, a world full of bioterrorists and kidnapped kids and cannibals who apparently didn't burn from radiation, what was I supposed to do? I couldn't hike from South Carolina to Washington D.C with a four-year-old and small rations of food, especially without a map. What made me think I could find my family? Maybe Lucia and I could go back home, salvage what was left of our leveled house.

But what about the bioterrorists? What about the cannibals and food and clean water and my family? 

Earlier that night, Lucia told me not to be scared, and I had told her that our family was worth fighting for. There had to be a way to get to them. I couldn't give up yet, not without putting up one hell of a fight...

"Eliza." 

The muffled whisper came from below my awkwardly twisted legs. I jumped, eyes fluttering open. The sudden jerk of my body made Lucia moan and bury her head deeper into my torso. Had I been asleep? For how long? 

A thin band of pale gray light fell through the cracked windshield. The stifling air was enough to saturate the inside of the car with a hot, sour stench. Sweaty, uncomfortable, and sleepy, straightened as the whisper came again, hoarse and louder: "Eliza, are you there?" 

The radio! 

Did I dare hope? 

Lucia was sitting up now, rubbing her eyes with her fists. I wiped off some drool from the side of my mouth and pulled my backpack into my lap. I found the radio, clicked the button on the side, and whispered back, "Markus? Is that you?" 

"Yeah, it's me." 

My heartbeat thundered in my throat. Markus's voice, alive and hushed and vivid with familiarity, sent thrills trilling through my blood. I clutched the radio tight in both hands, gasping as tears swelled in my eyes. "I though you were dead. You—you never came to the storm shelter."