“He drank a lot, didn’t he.”
“All the time.”
“Then he’d be in no shape to follow you even if the fire never touched him. What do you think would happen to a drunk on the highway? He’d never even make it out of L.A.”
She nodded. “You sound like Allie. You’re both right.
I know. But…I dream about him sometimes— that he’s coming, that he’s found us… . I know it’s crazy.
But I wake up covered in sweat.”
“Yeah,” I said, remembering my own nightmares during the search for my father. “Yeah.”
Jill and I walked together for a while without talking.
We were moving slowly because Justin demanded to be allowed to walk now and then. He had too much energy to spend hours sitting and riding. And, of course, when he was allowed to walk, he wanted to run all around, investigate everything. I had time to stop, swing my pack around, and dig out a length of closeline. I handed it to Jill.
“Tell your sister to try harnessing him with this,” I said. “It might save his life. One end around his waist, the other around her arm.”
She took the rope.
“I’ve taken care of a few three-year-olds,” I said, “and I’ll tell you, she’s going to need a lot of help with that little kid. If she doesn’t know that now, she will.”
“Are you guys just going to leave all the work to her?” Jill demanded.
“Of course not.” I watched Allie and Justin walking along— lean, angular woman and pudgy, bumblebee of a child. The boy ran to investigate a bush near the roadside, then, startled by the approach of strangers, ran back to Allie and hung on to the cloth of her jeans until she took his hand. “They do seem to be adopting each other, though,” I said. “And taking care of other people can be a good cure for nightmares like yours and maybe hers.”
“You sound as though you know.”
I nodded. “I live in this world, too.”
We passed through Hollister before noon. We resupplied there, not knowing when we would see well-equipped stores again. We had already discovered that several of the small communities shown on the maps no longer existed— had not existed for years. The earthquake had done a lot of damage in Hollister, but the people hadn’t gone animal. They seemed to be helping one another with repairs and looking after their own destitute. Imagine that.
21
The Self must create
Its own reasons for being.
To shape God,
Shape Self.
EARTHSEED: THE BOOKS OF THE LIVING
MONDAY, AUGUST 30, 2027
There is still a little water in the San Luis Reservoir.
It’s more fresh water than I’ve ever seen in one place, but by the vast size of the reservoir, I can see that it’s only a little compared to what should be there— what used to be there.
The highway runs through the recreational area for several miles. That gave us a chance to travel through on the road until we spotted an area that would make a good rest-day camp and that wasn’t occupied.
There are a lot of people in the area— people who have set up permanent camps in everything from rag-and- plastic tents to wooden shacks that look almost fit for human habitation. Where are so many people going to the bathroom? How clean is the water in the reservoir? No doubt cities that use it purify the water when it reaches them. Whether they do or not, I think it’s time for us to break out the water purification tablets.
Around several of the tents and shacks, there are small, ragged gardens— new plantings and remnants of summer vegetable gardens. There are a few things left to harvest: big squashes, pumpkins, and gourds still growing along with carrots, peppers, greens, and a little corn. Good, cheap, filling foods.
Not enough protein, but perhaps the people hunt.
There must be game around here, and I saw plenty of guns. People wear holstered handguns or carry rifles or shotguns. The men in particular go armed.
They all stared at us.
As we went past, people stopped their gardening, outdoor cooking, or whatever to stare at us. We had pushed ourselves, had been eager to arrive ahead of the crowd I believe will soon come in from the Bay Area. So we didn’t arrive with the usual human river.
Yet by ourselves we are enough of a crowd to make the local squatters nervous. They let us alone, though. Except during disaster-induced feeding frenzies like the ones after the earthquake, most people let one another alone. I think Dominic and Justin are making it easier for us to fit in. Justin, now tethered to Allie’s wrist, runs around staring at the squatters until they make him nervous. Then he runs back to Allie and demands to be carried. He’s a cute little kid. Lean, grim-faced people tend to smile at him.
No one shot at us or challenged us as we walked along the highway. No one bothered us later when we left the highway and headed into the trees toward what we thought might be a good area. We found old campsites and toilet places and avoided them. We didn’t want to be within sight of the highway or of anyone else’s tent or shack. We wanted privacy, not too many rocks to sleep on, and a way of reaching the water that didn’t put us too much on display. We looked for over an hour until we found an isolated old campsite, long abandoned and a little higher upslope than others we’d seen. It suited all of us. Then, with hours of daylight left, we rested in enormous comfort
