S. Davis - 900 Miles

A momentary pause from his counterparts had him screaming, “Now! You heard me, get them locked up before they wake up. John is right. We’ve already won.”

With that, his shoulders slumped as he looked down to the boy at my feet. I could see it in his eyes, if only for a moment. He realized what we were about to become.

Bringing his red-rimmed eyes back up to meet mine, he stopped and peered into my face, examining what felt like my soul. I think he was trying to figure me out. I’d shown him something he hadn’t expected. Keeping eye contact, I said, “We did the right thing here. You did the right thing,” before I slowly began to spin on one foot to turn back to the cafeteria.

As I stepped, one foot after another, down the hall, I heard Richards finally reply, “I hope you’re right, John. I hope you’re right.” He hit the microphone on his shoulders and started barking out the same orders to imprison the rest of the sleeping soldiers that laid across our floors.

Looking back down to my hand, the one with the bent wedding ring, I stepped through the hatch.

Forgiveness was nearly impossible to grant myself for letting Jenn die. Ultimately, I couldn’t blame anybody but myself. So many errors leading up to her death, all of which were my own. Somehow, putting it all on the line for Tyler, and making sure that I was ready to trade everything for him, provided the tiniest bit of solace. We had all changed. We all had to adapt to this new world.

My biggest adaptation was for me to learn to forgive. If I didn’t change, didn’t let go of the past, I’d be swallowed up by this world. I’d be consumed and spit out just like so many others before me.

Forgiving myself is something I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do. However, sometimes things just are. Sometimes, you can’t place blame. I had to allow myself to trust that I did what I could to make it things right. Trust that I did what was necessary to protect those I loved.

Hearing Claire continue to sing small lullabies lightly under her breath as I entered the room, I set my sights on Deanna and Tyler who were just three shorts steps away.

Letting the fire breath out of my lungs, and pushing the tiny dark spot to the back of my mind, I placed my hands under his arms as I lifted him from Deanna, and held him up to see his face.

I couldn’t help but think it. Think back to my wife. He looked so much like her. The same tiny movements, the same slightly slanted smile. I’ll always look back at that moment in time and feel like everything I had done in my life led up to saving my son.

Isn’t that what being a father is all about? The truest test of any man is his ability to protect his family. I’d failed once. It wasn’t something I was going to ever allow myself to do again.

They severed the disease like a festering wound.

With my knees up, feet flat on the ground, I sat in the corner of the room with Tyler in my lap. Nearly asleep, the nebulizer mask lay over his face as the tiny machine spun in the background. Pushing the medicine into his lungs, I hoped that it would help protect him from any lingering smoke or gas still in the bunker.

Nobody spoke, but we all had things to say as we waited in the cafeteria for our troops to clear out the hallways of Avalon. Led by Deanna, most of the people were breaking into an airtight bag of dried beef jerky across the room. Olivia stood there in eager anticipation as the bag ripped open, letting the familiar smell of salted beef radiate into the air.

Not wanting to let her baby leave her sight, Claire hovered nearby like a bear protecting its cub. Realizing we were all doing a bit of hovering, I stroked my hand over Tyler’s cheek. I could see Olivia with a mouthful of jerky. The child had seen so much, yet she stood there with a smile across her face, thinking more about her stomach than all the death just feet outside the hatch to the hallway.

The resilience of youth is amazing.

Finding myself deep in thought, I hoped that Olivia wouldn’t fall numb to the world we lived in, steering her too far away from what it meant to be human. Those of us who were adults, by the time this shit storm hit, had a sense for what the word civilized really meant. Well, the few of us who fought to maintain it anyway, that is. We carried it with us as our legacy from a world that would be long forgotten by the time a child like Olivia grew up. Glancing down at Tyler, whose eyes were squeezed shut, I knew I needed to make sure he’d never forget where we all came from. I wouldn’t let him grow up to be the monster that I had nearly become.

I wouldn’t let him lose his humanity.

Squelching to life, the mic on my shoulder tore me from my thoughts, making me jerk upright, nearly waking Tyler from the restful sleep he was enjoying on my lap.

“John, you alright?” I heard Kyle ask through the speaker.

“Don’t know if I’ll ever be alright, but I’m sitting here with my son and we’re alive.”

Before responding, there was a short silence, as if Kyle was busy on the other end.

“I’m grabbing a few men to head into the Greenbriar. We’ve got to make sure the hotel is clear.”

He didn’t ask, but I knew what he needed, and I couldn’t let him down.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Good. Don’t forget to bring my watch.”

“Sorry man, I’ve grown kinda attached to it at this point. Not sure I can part with it.”

“Right… we’ll see about that. Anyway, God is on his way. He’ll be stopping by to grab you. No need to be walking the halls alone at this point. Still a lot of unknowns lurking around the corners.”

I didn’t want to part with Tyler, but I knew Kyle and the rest of the team needed the help. So, with a giant sigh, I squeezed Tyler one last time and slid him back into Deanna’s waiting arms anyway.

“Hello, little man,” she said as she pulled him into her shoulder.

“You mind watching him for a bit longer?” I asked as I glanced to the door.

“Not one bit. You go make sure it’s safe out there. We’ll be alright here.”

Smiling, I patted her on the shoulder. “I don’t know what we’d do without you, Deanna.”

Returning the grin, she rubbed her hand through Tyler’s blond hair before saying, “On the contrary, John, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Moments later, I found myself walking through the halls of Avalon following God, who had that giant rifle slid over his shoulder, hanging around his back. With the lights nearly all restored, the remnants from the chaos littered the floors with rubble, weapons, and stains of blood. Watching our men dart around trying to clear the place up, I knew it wouldn’t be long before Avalon was clean. It would take a lot longer for the people to feel the same way.

Glancing from the floors, I asked God, “Do we have Gordon yet?”

Shaking his head, he replied, “No confirmation of his capture.”

In Greek mythology, when someone dies, two coins are often placed over the person’s eyes or in some cases in their mouth. The idea was that the person’s soul had to pass across a river that separated Earth and the Underworld. Evil people would go to what we today know as hell to be punished by being drowned in muddy waters for eternity. Mythology says that a ferryman named Charon would have to transport the soul across the river and that the coins were to pay his toll for the trip.

While I wasn’t ready to kill his men, I was resolute in the fact that Gordon needed to be sent off down the river with the ferryman. As we walked down the halls, looking at all the destruction, it would have been my pleasure to place the coins over his eyes myself, and give Charon a high five while providing the ferry boat a good kick to send it on its way.