Time Lost: Teenage Survivalist II (12 page)

Chapter 23

Police Station

It felt weird riding in a vehicle afte
r
a year of walking everywhere. It was also smelly. Being that close to the lost souls in a confined space was almost more than my nose could stand. Not that I smelled a whole lot better probably, but Sara and I did make an effort to wash ourselves from time to time with water warmed over the fire and dog shampoo that we had taken from the veterinary supply car of the train.

It only took ten minutes to travel the distance from the park to the police station; the same route had taken Sara and me hours when we escaped from Matthew’s gang downtown. Sara’s eyes got big as a frightened doe’s when she realized we were headed to the central police station downtown. I don’t think she would have come to Aaron’s defense if she knew that was where they’d take us. I had been worried about that all along, because I remembered my dad saying that the central station had been the first to have solar panels installed and the only one to have been completed before PF Day. In my mind, it only made sense that most of the after-dark operations would have to be carried on there, where they could have lights. Unfortunately, I was right.

When we got to the station, Sara clutched my hand as I pulled her close to my side with my other arm around her shoulders. We had to wait in the holding area for a few minutes while they sorted us out. The officers were separating us, sending some to holding cells and others to interrogation rooms.

Sara and I were the last to get assigned to rooms. While we waited, a cop brought in another person. I barely glanced his way, but I took another look when I felt Sara stiffen beside me. It was just an ordinary scruffy looking, bald man, yet I could feel Sara shrinking beside me, trying to melt into my side and disappear. I was about to ask her what was going on, when the man suddenly noticed Sara. He stared at her intently for a second, and then the look turned into a sneer. Right then, I recognized the man as the gang member who had almost found us on the fire escape when we had fled downtown months before.

I had a sick feeling in my gut as a female officer separated Sara and me, placing me in a holding cell. Sara clung to me, pleading with the woman to let us stay together, but the officer gently pulled her away and took her to be questioned. I was left for most of the night in the cell before they came to get me for questioning. By that time, I was so exhausted from lack of sleep and worry about Sara that I don’t even remember what the detectives were asking or what I answered. Apparently, they knew they couldn’t get any useful information from me because after an hour or so of questioning they sent me back to my cell. I kept asking where Sara was, but they just answered that she was fine, not to worry.

Sometime early in the morning they released me. I begged them to tell me where Sara was, but they just said she had been released a couple of hours before and had left the station. They couldn’t tell me which direction she had gone or whether she was alone or not. I exited the building, trying to find familiar footprints in the snow, which had accumulated to about two inches deep during the night. It was impossible. There were so many footprints that the snow was trampled flat in front of the door and much beyond that was covered with the fresh fallen snow.

I looked all around the station in a panic. Where could she be, where could she have gone? Why would she have left the safety of the police station, even if they wouldn’t let her stay inside? Why would she leave without me? I strained to look as far as I could down the street to the west. I could see nothing moving except a few small birds picking around in the snow. I looked north and south as well, but still didn’t see anything. When I tried to look east down the street, I had to shield my eyes from the rising sun with my hand. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust, but then I saw several people standing under an overpass three or four blocks down. Of course! They would want to go somewhere dry to stand and wait for the others to be released. I trotted the few blocks to catch up to them.

As I neared the overpass, though, I could tell Sara wasn’t among the men. Aaron was there and several of the lost souls, but no beautiful girl with haunted blue eyes. My heart seized up and I got that sick feeling in my gut again.

—
Have any of you seen Sara?

Aaron and most of the lost souls shook their heads sadly, but one of them, a disheveled, wild-eyed man named Ernesto, got all agitated, gesticulating wildly with his hands.

—
A demon came and took her. Just swooped in and carried her away.

—
A demon? What are you talking about?

I was angry now. I didn’t have time for the ranting and delusions of a crazy man.

—
A demon. Or maybe it was Satan himself… Yes. It was Satan. I’m sure of it now. I think I saw horns on his bald head. He just scooped her up and carried her off. Damn dirty demon…

At the mention of the bald head, I froze, knowing exactly who he was talking about. I grabbed Ernesto by the shoulders and shook him.

—
Why didn’t you stop him?

Ernesto looked at me incredulously, and then his expression became patronizing.

—
Ain’t nobody can stop the devil. Everybody knows that.

Ernesto shrugged and looked at me pityingly as I dropped my hands from his shoulders. He was right—he couldn’t have stopped him and neither could’ve I. Sara was gone, and I could only hope that the gang would release her, and I would find her unharmed. My voice was quieter but shaky.

—
Which way did they go?

Ernesto slowly pointed down the street to the west and I took off at a jog, not sure if I was ready to face Matthew’s gang, but also not willing to lose Sara to them.

Chapter 24

Grey

I wandered the empty downtow
n
streets all morning, looking for Sara. Everything was grey: the skeletons of the burned-out buildings, the now-useless streets, the piles of dirty snow. I couldn’t tell where I was; I may have been going in circles for all I knew because every block looked exactly the same as the last—grey upon grey upon more grey. After what must have been hours, during which my fingers and feet became numb and my throat hoarse from calling her name, I spotted a red pile a couple of blocks away. It looked so out of place among all the grey; it looked so beautiful, like a red flower blooming in the snow. I knew it must be Sara’s red wool pea coat, the one she took from her Mom’s closet the night we ran away, the one that would make her look older and keep her from being picked up as a runaway. I began running toward her, forgetting all about my tired legs and frozen feet.

As I drew closer, I could see that it was indeed Sara and that she was lying on the ground, her upper body on the sidewalk with her legs hanging over into the street. Her position looked odd, not natural and, thinking she was dead, I struggled to stifle a scream. However, at the sound of my footsteps, she weakly lifted her hand, the one closest to me, so I knew she was alive. When I got to her, I saw that the red was not just from her coat, but also from a pool of blood that she was lying in. It took me a second to realize that it was her blood.

I dropped down and lifted her head onto my lap, murmuring soothing, nonsensical words to her. She opened her eyes and smiled weakly at me, gathering up her strength to speak.

—
They got me, Ben… I tried to give them all the money… but they didn’t want it… said it was worthless now.

—
Shhh, don’t try to talk. I’m going to get help. You’ll be alright.

I think I was trying to convince myself more than her. Her eyes looked deep into mine then, imploring me to listen. The haunted look was gone, but in its place was an urgency, a pleading.

—
No… listen, Ben. Remember… remember all I’ve been saying… all I’ve been trying to tell you…

—
I will, but you’ll be alright…

The blood was still oozing through her shirt, soaking into her coat and adding to the pool on the ground. I pressed my hands on her belly, trying to slow the flow of blood, like I had seen the zookeepers do when trying to save the baby impala. Soon the blood was oozing through my fingers and I felt as helpless as I had that day at the zoo, while the innocence and life drained from the poor animal’s body. Sara groaned and forced herself to talk through gritted teeth.

—
My song… remember my song?

—
Yes, If I Die—

I stopped suddenly, tears springing to my eyes, as I remembered the words to her favorite song,
If I Die Young
. Sara continued, but her voice was getting weaker, hoarser.

—
I’ve always known I wasn’t going to be here long… I belong with my mom and dad… I was just here to help you… to help you understand… Remember what I’ve said. Remember, Ben… Promise me you’ll remember.

Yes. I will.

I could barely choke out the words; my throat constricted and my chest felt like it was imploding.

Good.

She smiled then and peace filled her eyes and her beautiful face. She seemed calm and serene like old Mr. Westcott had when they found him dead in his easy chair back in the apartment building. That seemed so long ago, an entirely different lifetime. She seemed to be sleeping for a long time but after a while, she opened her eyes and looked up at me. The love and sadness that radiated from her eyes reminded me of the look that my mom gave me when she opened the watch fob I had given her for Christmas. It was like my life was flashing by in front of my eyes, like I was the one dying instead of everyone I remembered. Then as I watched, the color drained from her face and her eyes slowly glazed over, a dull grey curtain closing over the gorgeous Caribbean blue. I could tell that her soul was leaving her body then. She died staring up at the lifeless grey sky.

—
Sara, no! Don’t leave me, Sara! Please! Please… please…

My panicked words faded into sobs and I sat holding and rocking her for a long time while I cried. I reached in my pocket, thinking about Sara’s pocketful of tears, and pulled out Mom’s watch fob, still frozen at 11:47 a.m., November 1
st
. I held it to my heart and screamed at the grey sky, with angry tears spilling down my frozen cheeks. I cried for Sara, I cried for Mom, I cried for Dad, and most of all, I cried for me. Because I was the one left with endless Time stretching before me, Time with no purpose, no happiness, and no one left to love. I cried until I used up all the tears in my pocket and in Sara’s pocket too.

After that, I think I fell in a trance or something, not seeing anything even though my eyes were open, my mind a blank. I must have been there for several hours because when I finally came to, abruptly and cruelly, the sun was starting to set behind the grey bones of the buildings to the west. Even the sunset appeared to me in black and white, as if all the colors had been sucked out of the world with Sara’s passing.

Suddenly, I looked around me with perfect clarity. My mind felt razor sharp as I took in the scene around me. I could see each dirty grey snow crystal and the ridges of bark on the naked grey tree beside me. I looked down at my lap. Sara’s once beautiful but now lifeless grey eyes stared up at me, her skin a lighter shade of grey. The blood pooled around her almost black and gel-like in the cold, the wounds on her body through her shirt—unmistakably knife wounds. The words of Sara’s song played in my head, the part about her short life being severed by a sharp knife…

Strewn around her feet were the 100-dollar bills—the Benjamins—she had carried in her pocket for more than a year. They looked grey instead of green. I understood instantly what she had been trying to tell me all along about my dad and his relentless pursuit of money and how, in the end, it was all worthless—worthless and dirty. Money had been worthless to Sara trying to save her life; it was worthless to Mom who had only wanted Dad to spend time with her; it was worthless to Dad, whose grey ashes were mixed in the destruction here somewhere; it was worthless blowing around here downtown like so much trash.

And I knew. I knew what Sara had been saying all along about things not being as they appear. The breakup of my family was never Mom’s fault, or even Lyle’s. Maybe not even Dad’s. It just happened. Dad loved money and me, and Mom loved Lyle and me. And it wasn’t Time’s fault; it was just life. Life happens, bad things happen to everyone and it is up to each of us to seek truth and happiness and love, no matter what happens. I felt something heavy lift from my body as I opened the treasure chest of memories in my mind and let loose all the old feelings I’d buried for so long. I wasn’t happy—far from it—but I was at peace with my past at last.

I watched the sun set as more words from Sara’s song ran through my mind, about her thoughts being worth so much more than a penny after she’s gone and how people only listen to you after you’re dead.

Chapter 25

Dying

I was at peace with my past but
I
didn’t care at all anymore about my future. Without Sara, there was no reason to live at all. Had she actually been in my life or had I just imagined her? Had she been an angel sent to help me deal with my past sorrows and forgive my parents? If so, she had succeeded in that regard, but had ripped open a new wound of pain and loneliness in my soul. I wished with all the broken, shriveled up pieces of my heart that I could die, to be with all the people I loved. Survival, which had been of the utmost importance in my life for the past year, now held no interest for me.

As I sat there on the sidewalk in the snow, cradling Sara’s head in my lap, I detachedly considered what I should do next. I remembered the river and my longing to fall headlong into its numbing embrace, but I didn’t want to leave Sara’s body alone on the street and I didn’t have the strength to carry her with me all the way to the river. I also thought about just sitting there, waiting for Sara’s murderer to come back and put me out of my misery like a stray dog that’s seen too much abuse in its life.

It was dark by then, and I started to think about the nocturnal animals that might start to feed off her. I remembered she hated that everyone always wanted a piece of her—even in death, she would not be left alone—so I half carried, half dragged her body into the nearest ruined building. It had been over 24 hours since I had slept and at least 18 since I had eaten, so I was feeling quite weak. Plus, all the anxiety, adrenalin, and anguish of the past two days had taken its toll on both my body and my mind. I didn’t care, though; in fact, I didn’t feel anything. I was numb. I knew I should be feeling anger toward the person who killed Sara, maybe plotting some kind of revenge, but I just couldn’t bring myself to care. That sounds callous, but at that point I was just ready to die, so nothing mattered anymore.

I laid Sara’s body on the soot-covered tile floor of the remains of the building. The first floor ceiling covered a large enough space that I was able to find a dry spot for us. I lay down beside her and drifted off to sleep, hoping beyond hope that I would never wake up again.

Sometime during the night, I heard voices, but I couldn’t force myself to open my eyes. I really didn’t care who it was or what they were doing there, but at one point, a voice shouted, sounding very near to me.

—
Hey Matthew! I found her!

The footsteps of several people came near and I tried to force myself to wake up to confront them so they’d kill me, but I just couldn’t muster the energy. Instead, I strained to focus on what they were saying and to will them to notice I was still alive.

—
Is she dead?

—
Yeah, I think so.

—
Why’d you have to kill her, Grub?

—
I didn’t do it; Zack did.

—
Zack, you asshole! I told you I could reason with her. You didn’t have to kill her!

Matthew sounded genuinely upset. Like he’d really loved his sister after all. Zack, however, answered flippantly, like he couldn’t have cared less.

—
Sorry, man. She fought me.

Another voice quickly chimed in, sounding excited.

—
How about the boy? He’s alive. Ya want me to off him? Just in case…

Matthew sounded annoyed when he answered.

—
No. Just leave ‘em alone. Let’s just get out of here, okay?

I listened dully as the voices faded with their footsteps. I decided that if they wouldn’t kill me then I’d just lay there until I died. Maybe Time would be kind to me for once and let death come quickly. Of course, it wasn’t.

I don’t know how many hours or days passed, but I could feel my body shrinking and shriveling up. Or maybe it was just my imagination, my dreams, that had me dissolving into an insignificant speck. I knew no one was left to remember me or even care that I died; I was but one of millions of innocent souls who had lost their lives to the sun’s wrath. Maybe I wasn’t so innocent, though. I was wracked with guilt for all the times I was a coward, all the times I turned my back on the people I loved and blamed them for my shortcomings. I begged God for forgiveness and understanding. I was just a kid; did that even matter?

One morning a brilliant light shined in my eyes, forcing me to squint even as my eyes remained close. I tried to ignore the light but it wouldn’t let up and I was forced to shift my position. Pain shot through my arm as pins and needles relentlessly stuck my hand. Involuntarily, I sat up in agony, every muscle and bone in my body screaming at me for moving them out of their stupor. I realized that I had been lying for too long in one place. I hadn’t died like I’d hoped, and my body told me in no uncertain terms that it was, indeed, still alive.

As I pried my eyes open, a hazy scene came into view and if it weren’t for the pain, I’d have thought I was still dreaming. Directly in front of me was a small fire, like a campfire, but made in the basket of a shopping cart, and next to it stood a man. I blinked several times to clear the grit out of my eyes and the man came into focus. He was a young man, maybe in his early twenties, with a scraggly blond beard and torn, dirty jeans. He wore a bright blue nylon parka, which he carefully kept back from the flames. I must have made a sound because he immediately looked over at me with a startled look, and then a smile broke over his face, making it clear up into his kind, light blue eyes.

—
Hey guys! Look who’s awake!

Two other young men, looking to be about the same age as the first, quickly came into focus, bending down to look into my face. The one with curly brown hair spoke to me.

—
Hey, buddy. How are you feeling? We weren’t sure you were going to make it.

I wanted to tell him that was my plan, but my mouth was so dry nothing would come out, so instead I just lay back down and rolled over to my other side. There was some movement and whispering behind me and soon I was gently rolled to my back. Someone sat behind me and laid my head on his lap, while the other tried to get me to drink something. I was too weak to resist.

—
Here, buddy. Drink this.

I didn’t like him calling me buddy. I wasn’t his buddy and I wanted nothing to do with the spoonful of warm liquid he was forcing in between my lips. Again, I was too weak to resist, and I choked a little before I could swallow what tasted like a watered-down broth. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, however, even when I turned my head to the side. He just pulled my head back around started feeding me again. After a while, my stomach woke up and started grumbling. I groaned and slowly, painfully shook my head no.

—
Come on, buddy. You have to drink it. You need to get your strength back.

My throat was finally wet enough for me to croak out a response.

—
I don’t want strength. I want to die. Leave me alone.

The first guy, the blond one, knelt next to me.

—
Now, we can’t just let you die, kid.

The one holding my head in his lap agreed.

—
Yeah, you remind me of my little brother. I hope someone is taking care of him back home.

Suddenly I remembered why I was there and I sat bolt upright, ignoring the intense pain in my head and body. I frantically looked around for Sara, but she wasn’t there; had this all been some terrible dream?

—
Where’s Sara? What’d you do with her?

My voice sounded panicked and shrill; the sound was strange to my ears. The guys looked at each other before “Blondie” responded quietly, sadly.

—
It’s okay, kid. We took care of her.

—
What? What’d you do with her?

—
We buried her. Said a prayer over her. She deserved to be taken care of; we couldn’t just leave her out for the animals to get at her.

It took a few moments for my mind to comprehend what he’d said, but when I did, I finally slumped back down onto “Big Brother’s” lap. “Curly” resumed spooning the broth into my mouth but I just let it drool out the sides and stared listlessly ahead. Sara was truly gone. And I was still here. The cruelness of the situation hit me then and tears sprang to my eyes. I didn’t bother trying to stop them or wipe them away but, rather, just closed my eyes tightly and let the tears flow down the sides of my face. I didn’t even wipe my nose when it started to leak too, partly from the crying and partly because of the cold. Big Brother held my head and stroked my hair, whispering to me.

—
It’s okay, bro. Just let it out. We’re going to take care of you. It’ll be alright.

Blondie and Curly got up and went back to the fire, busying themselves with something to let me have some space. After a while, I couldn’t cry anymore and I tried to go back to sleep. Big Brother slid out from under me and placed some kind of pillow under my head. And I slept.