Meg Elison - The Book of the Unnamed Midwife

She heard the high choppy whine of a motor.

She whipped around to see a little boat coming toward her, running fast with a small outboard motor. There was only one man in it. She tensed all over.

He came alongside. “Hey, where you gonna take that thing?”

She shrugged, and pitched her voice as low as she knew how. “Just crossing the Bay, man.”

“You could have walked the tunnel. Why get all this going?”

She had thought about walking through the BART tunnel. The idea of getting lost in there was more than she could handle. She looked him over as his boat came under her gaze. He was slight and clean-looking. His hands on the oars were long and slender with elegant fingers. He wasn’t threatening. Not even trying.

“I thought it’d be easy. It’s fine. I’ll work it out.”

“You wanna just climb down and I’ll take you across?”

“I don’t have anything to trade.” If he tried to come aboard, she decided she’d push him overboard. Simple. Let him work that out while she got away.

The smell of salt came off the warmed surface of the water, but the wind cut cold and right through them. She did not want to swim.

“Nah, it’s cool. I haven’t seen anybody in a couple of days. I just miss people.”

After a few seconds of thought, she decided if she had to get rid of him, she might as well be in the better boat. She decided it was too risky to throw her pack, so she came awkwardly down the ladder with it. The boat rocked alarmingly and she sat down fast, trying to keep it steady.

He held out his hand. “Curtis.”

She shook with the best grip she could muster. “Andrew. Where are you headed?”

Curtis sat back and started the motor again, and the small boat resumed skipping toward the shore. “I dunno. Everybody left the city. Downtown is full of dead people. Where is there to go?”

“I’m going south, toward San Diego,” she lied. “I heard it’s not so bad down there, plus there’s nice beaches.”

“Yeah. That sounds pretty good.” Curtis smiled that needy smile.

Harmless.

She turned her face into the wind and Oakland got bigger and bigger, black and wrecked on the coastline.

“Hey can we hook north toward the Berkeley marina? Oakland looks like shit from here.”

“Sure.” He turned the boat north. “So, what’d you do? Before.”

Without thinking, she answered the way she always had. “I’m a nurse.”

“No kidding! I didn’t think I’d ever meet a nurse again.”

“Yeah, well. Trauma. I was a field medic in Afghanistan before that.” She came up with that in the white panic of exposure. She was impressed with herself.

“Oh, cool. If you find some people, at least you can tell them you’re useful. I wrote code for Facebook, so once I eat all the baked beans in San Francisco, it’s pretty much over for me.”

She looked at his fake brave face. He was really trying, but underneath he was all terror. “People adapt,” she told him.

“We’ll see if I do. Is that what you’re looking for? People?”

She shrugged. “Not sure I should.”

He sat silent. She took that to mean he couldn’t argue with her.

After a minute, he squeaked it out. “Well… well, can I go with you? Two are better than one. I can at least be a lookout and help you find food. I’m good with machines and directions. What do you say?”

Shit. Should have seen that coming.

She had been perfectly and calmly ready to ditch this guy and yet this question hurt her heart. She thought about Chicken telling her off. She couldn’t look at him. Sideways, he looked like a little boy trying not to cry.

“I don’t think that would work out. But you’ll find some people. Good luck, okay?”

They were almost to the marina. She strapped her pack back on and he got close enough to a huge sailboat’s ladder for her to grab on. She climbed up and looked back down at him.

“Ok then. I guess I’ll go back.”

Something gave way inside her. She turned her bag around and reached in for something she could give him, since she couldn’t let him follow. “Here.” She tossed down a rubber banded bundle of antibiotics. “Hold on to that. It might save your life.”

He caught it and looked up. “Hey thanks. Good luck to you, too.”

He took off. She couldn’t explain to herself why she had given it to him. She had to give him something. She thought again of his long, slender hands and his innocent face. He was harmless. She could have helped him, adopted him, but she couldn’t talk herself into the risk. She hoped he found somebody who would take him on. Save him.

Good luck, man.

She slept in the hold of a boat that had no food but about six kilos of weed. She sniffed its skunky, oily stink and thought about taking some. It might be good to trade, but it’d be a terrible idea to get stoned on her own. When it got dark, she decided she was sick of the smell and got out to walk up to the university. She looked back at the boat, knowing that she wouldn’t return to it. She could set it on fire. She could burn down the whole marina. The night was clear and cool and the thought passed.

She had no flashlight, but there was an almost full moon. Most of downtown looked intact, and the school seemed to have held out for a long time when everything was falling apart. Dorms stood dark on every side, most with banners hanging out the window with slogans opposing the school closure and quarantine. One banner overhead read “3 INSIDE PLEASE HELP.” She wondered if they were still there, or if help had come. Firelights flickered on an upper floor of an old brick pub and she crept away from it, around the block. She doubled back and came up to the main entrance of the school, and then hooked down the street. The building she was looking for was boarded up, but she picked at the edges of the plywood at one window until she found a way in.

In Berkeley

In the university clinic now. Been here a few days. Pallet of bottled water in here, plus cases and cases of granola bars and dried fruit. Also more birth control than I’ve seen anywhere else. Stocked up to bursting. Thousands of doses = all set.

June

Actually pulled it off. Wasn’t sure it would ever work but I did it, today.

* * * * *

They were three, men and a woman. She was young. The midwife saw them coming around one of the old cafes, carrying boxes of cookies. It was broad daylight and she was prepared, right down to the socks in her underwear. She went out through the roof hatch and drew her gun.

Steady. You’ve got all the advantage. Stay steady. Ready? Talk low. Ready. Steady. Ready.

“Hey!”

They started and one of them men dropped his cookies. They both looked around wildly and froze when they saw her.

“Hey!” She started again, low and gruff. “Didn’t mean to scare you. You interested in trade?”

“Fuck, dude,” said the one with the black ponytail. “Don’t pull a gun if you’re not trying to be scary.”

Maybe not next time. Maybe overcorrecting. Fuck it, I feel better with it showing.

“Just getting your attention. Trade?”

“Put that thing away and come down.” They weren’t showing any arms. She put the gun in the back of her waistband and climbed down through the hatch. She wiggled out of a back window where she couldn’t be seen and came around the front, with her trade-goodie bag and her medkit. She came around showing her hands.

“My name’s Rob. I’m holding some good stuff.”

“I’m José, this is Mike and Jenna. What do you have?” José had the black ponytail, shiny with some kind of grease. Mike had a buzz cut and one arm was covered with tattoos.

“Well, I used to be a PA, so I can offer you medical assistance if you need it.”