Hope and Undead Elvis

chapter Twenty-Two

Hope and the River





Desperate hunger lent patience and quick hands to Hope, who snagged four fish with her bare hands as they swarmed around her feet. None of them were larger than her hand, and she had no idea if they were even edible, but was in no position to be picky. Rae squeaked in mild disgust as she held the dying, wriggling fish by their tails. Hope led her back to the shore. They hunkered down and used rocks to scrape off the scales. The fishes' flesh was mild-flavored and flaked away from the bones with little effort. It took only a tentative taste before each of the women dug into the raw fish with gusto, tearing into them with their fingers.

"I hope we don't get sick from these," said Hope around a mouthful of the sweet pink meat.

Rae didn't answer, but Hope knew the nun wouldn't hear her unless she practically screamed in her ear. With her blindness, her ability to read lips had vanished, and that had been her primary way of understanding what was said to her. The young nun didn't seem as bothered about it as Hope would have been. She smiled as she ate, lost in her thoughts. Her bare toes rested against Hope's leg, a reassurance that she hadn't been abandoned.

Hope finished her second fish and tossed the bones back into the river where scavengers could fight over the inedible fins and tail. As the sun dropped behind the edge of the trees, Hope found a natural shelter beside an ancient fallen tree. She and Rae huddled together to sleep and await a fresh day to decide upon their next move.

Rae nodded off right away, but Hope sat and stared at the river as the sky turned dark and the Moon rose. Something about the river struck her as important. Her brain felt fuzzy from exhaustion and lack of food, but even so, it worked at the problem like a cat worrying after a spider just out of reach.

Then she had it. The water flowed south. Maybe it came from that lake where she'd bathed all those months ago. Or else it flowed into that lake. She couldn't remember crossing any bridges besides the one over the canyon. If she could find the lake again, she could find the road, and follow it to find the wreck of The Way.

And then she might find Undead Elvis.

Hope missed the walking corpse. Despite his propensity to never answer any questions, she'd grown used to his presence beside her with his immaculate white jumpsuit and perpetual, impenetrable sunglasses. She'd given up wondering the how and why of his existence and accepted that he just was.

She missed being called Li'l lady.

Come morning, decided Hope, they'd catch more fish for breakfast and then head upstream. Maybe they'd find the lake, The Way, and her missing friend. Maybe they'd find something else instead. Either way, at least they'd be doing something instead of waiting for something to happen. With that last thought, Hope slipped into a dreamless sleep.

Hope awoke when the first rays of morning sun struck her face. Rae had snuggled against her, head nestled in the crook of her arm. The intimacy felt comforting, and Hope realized how much she'd missed the warmth of human contact. She could have shifted her arm and gotten up, but instead felt satisfied to cuddle.

Then she saw the boat, and her sense of security evaporated.

Hope sat bolt upright, her heart hammering in fear, and scanned the surrounding terrain to see if someone was nearby. She saw nobody. Birds sang their morning songs and dragonflies hovered over the river surface, dipping down to cherry-pick mosquito larvae. Maybe they were alone after all.

Hope touched Rae's lips with her fingers. The nun opened her eyes but Hope saw they had gone milky-white, as if she had cataracts. Rae felt for Hope's face. Hope held a finger up to Rae's lips. The young nun nodded, understanding. Hope squeezed her hand, then left the shelter where they'd slept.

Nobody materialized from the forest to challenge her, so Hope approached the boat with a mix of trepidation and curiosity. It had run aground on the near bank, turned sideways, and hung up on a partially-submerged log. It was a small aluminum rowboat with dented sides and chipped white paint. Corrosion decorated the top edge of the gunwales.

The interior of the hull bore mute testimony to what had happened. A spray of dried blood decorated the boat's stern. A discarded pistol lay against the bottom with thick patches of rust all over it. Before she even checked it, Hope knew it would be empty. Whoever had been in the boat must have used his last bullet to end his life. Hope understood; she would have done the same thing if she'd had no hope for the future.

The missing boat's owner had left behind a backpack, tucked underneath the seat. Hope pulled it free and gasped at the treasures she found within it: four packages of those little cheese sandwich crackers, still wrapped tight in cellophane and decorated with pictures of smiling cartoon elves; two balled-up, mildewy t-shirts that smelled of a man's sweat and Old Spice deodorant; a pair of rag socks and some running shoes that were far too large for Hope's feet.

Hope started to return to Rae with the spoils from the boat, but then stopped. The boat itself was a worthwhile find, perhaps as much as the backpack within it. She hurried back to it and dragged it far enough up onto the bank that the current wouldn't pull it back in again. Satisfied with her efforts, Hope crouched down beside Rae to share the booty. They each ate one package of the cheese crackers, savoring each crumbly bite with the tang of processed spread. The crackers soothed Hope's acidic stomach and quieted the pangs of hunger. She could have torn open the other two packages and wolfed them down in a heartbeat, but wouldn't steal food from her friend and charge.

They washed out the t-shirts in the river water and spread them across the bottom of the boat to dry. Hope decided to claim the faded yellow one with the picture of the muscle car on it, for it reminded her of The Way. Rae would have to make do with the one with the Superman logo on it. Rae's feet were even smaller than Hope's, so Hope pulled on the rag socks over her slippers and found that the running shoes fit well enough that they weren't likely to fall off with every step.

Hope considered whether it might be better to clean it up the rusted pistol somehow in case she found some ammunition to fill it, but then she'd sighed. She wasn't a warrior of the lost wasteland, blazing a trail of bullets and bombs across the world. If she never had to fire a gun again, it would be too soon. She threw it into the river instead.

Rae would wear the backpack. It was one of those cheap nylon bags that Wal-Mart stocked every fall for back-to-school sales, with the awkward straps that never adjusted quite right. She shrugged it over her narrow shoulders and gave an undirected, beatific smile that made Hope feel that maybe things were going to be all right after all.

Hope thought about trying to catch another couple of fish for later, but the crackers seemed to have fortified her enough to move on upstream. She wondered if she'd find any civilization northward, and if so, would it be one in which she'd feel comfortable and safe. She allowed herself a wry smile as she wondered if there might even be a Starbucks. Maybe the chain had grown so powerful that it could even stave off the end of the world.

If so, she hoped they'd let her buy a latte on credit.

Two paddles lay in the bottom of the boat. Hope helped Rae get situated in the boat at the back end. What was that called again? Hope couldn't remember; she'd never spent any time in boats. She pressed one paddle into Rae's hands, and then turned the young woman's head so she could shout into her ear. "Rae, can you hear me?"

"Yes." Rae's voice sounded thick and muffled, like she'd forgotten how to use it.

"We're going upstream, looking for a road by a lake. That's the road I was on when you found me. We need to go back to where my car crashed. We need to find… We just need to go there. You paddle on one side. When you get tired, switch to the other. If you need a break, just say so and we'll pull over."

"All right," said Rae. "I'm glad you're with me, Hope."

"Yeah, I'm glad not to be alone too. Let's go." Hope pushed the boat off the bank, splashed through the shallows, and then climbed in.

Paddling against the current wasn't as hard as she'd feared it might be, but the actual work of paddling was very tiring, and her shoulders weren't as strong from dancing as her legs. She'd never been much of a pole dancer, and her muscles complained each time she raised the paddle to dip it back into the water.

In spite of their awkward efforts, the boat was making slow progress upstream, and once they settled into a rhythm with the paddles, the progress was steady as well. Trees passed by on either side, all looking the same as their brethren. The only sign they were moving forward at all were the bends of the river as they traversed it. Hope's world shrank to the persistent drumbeat of their motion. Splash of paddle into the water. Creak of shoulders pushing it back. Rest for a moment. Whoosh of wet air as paddle goes up and forward again. Splash creak rest whoosh splash creak rest whoosh. She wished Undead Elvis were with them to lend his voice in accompaniment to the rhythm track they were laying down.

To break up the monotony, Hope said, knowing that Rae couldn't hear her, "I almost didn't want to wash this shirt. It smelled like Old Spice, and that reminded me of my dad. He was one of those dads who smoked and drank, and you could smell it in his sweat on a hot summer day. Sometimes, when he'd hug me, before he left, I'd wrap my arms around myself to try and hold that scent in tighter to me, like I could keep it from going away. Marlboro Lights, bourbon, and Old Spice cologne. That was the smell of my dad. Nobody wears it anymore these days. All these young boys with their body sprays and shit smell so fake and artificial. When I smelled it on these shirts, it made me think of him and how much I never got to say to him. He left when I was only three. I wonder what happened to him, Rae. I wonder if he found whatever he was looking for."

Hope jumped as Rae put a hand on her shoulder and asked in her thick voice. "Are you all right, Hope? You stopped paddling."

"I'm fine. Sorry, I got distracted by my own thoughts." Hope shrugged off Rae's hand and dug her paddle into the water once more.

Splash.

Creak.

Rest.

Whoosh.