Find Me: Lost And Found Part 10

As we rode away from the apartment complex just minutes after the first rays of day lit up the ground, I nibbled on a piece of fruit and lost myself in the smell of the clean earth. The rain scent that lingered in the air was refreshingly nostalgic. For a little while, I was lost in my twelfth year, hidden deep inside me, that used to dance and skip through the overflowing gutters after a storm. I wanted to hold onto that memory that was latched to the just-washed air instead of so many other sad and disturbing ones from the last year. However something startled Foxy, she halted in her tracks, tossing Kris, and I forward in the saddle. And just like that, my twelve-year-old self was lost in the past again.

"Shh, girl. What is it?" I patted her neck, scratching softly below her long mane. As I stroked her, dust lifted off her rusty-brown coat, leaving clean streaks where my hand had been. I didn't have to turn around to see that Connor was also having a problem with Sunny; her whinny was strained and she stomped her feet irritably onto the road. Her hooves made a clack-sc.r.a.pe-clack-sc.r.a.pe sound on the asphalt that made me wince.

There was another crater where our road met Interstate 5. Unlike the last blown out hole we came across, this one was shallower and had tossed debris hundreds of feet around it. We left the residential street and followed what was intact of the frontage road that ran along the highway until we found a blown out portion of the barrier to walk the horses through.

Cars lined both sides of the Interstate as far as I could see; they were packed in so tightly against each other that nearly every b.u.mper touched another. Other than the missing section of road, there were too many vehicles to safely maneuver the horses through. So we opted to stay on the side streets for the remainder of the morning. Twice I thought I saw movement off in the distance but convinced myself that a ripped flag or a torn billboard was to blame. The city streets had an odd odor - sort of like upturned earth that had been fertilized with cow manure. Sick. The city smelled sick.

"See that, just over there?" Connor pointed ahead of us and to the east over a row of buildings. A slender plume of smoke coiled upward into the sky.

"Yeah, I see it."

"Should we check it out?" he asked, without looking away from the growing black s.m.u.t.

"No, let's keep going. It's probably a gas station or something," I answered.

I didn't like the way this part of town felt. Only a few more hours and we'd be in San Clemente. We didn't have the energy for detours.

Connor was the one that spotted the small stream below the Interstate. For five miles, we had followed the shoulder of the highway after losing access to frontage roads. Fortunately, most of it was dirt and weeds and the horses enjoyed the change from the hard concrete. Once we figured a way down to the stream, the horses drank freely while I sat nearby, scouring the map for alternate routes. The Interstate glittered with windshields all the way to the horizon and the closer we got to Orange County, the more cluttered the vehicles became - spreading out onto the shoulders.

"We can't rest here for too long," Connor said at my elbow.

"I know." I looked from one horse to the other as they greedily drank the stream water. Sunny was the first to stop and graze along the shallow bank, nibbling up all the gra.s.s she could find.

"Maybe we should stay on the trail from here and follow the 5 up north." I pointed at the map, tracing a line along the Interstate. The only thing that would hinder our path would be walls or fencing.

"You know this area best, you decide," Connor sighed.

"Yeah, cuz I go horseback riding through here all the time," I laughed.

"Shh! Listen," Kris dropped her pack to the ground and stood up, facing the hills to our east. Connor and I turned our head to follow her gaze, straining to hear whatever she had.

"What?" Connor asked quietly.

As soon as he spoke, a soft whooshing sound echoed off the landscape. A dull whoomp-whoomp sound bounced around the hills and down toward the highway several times - and then, just as suddenly as it came - it was gone.

The three of us stood still, watching and waiting. Minutes pa.s.sed and all that could be heard was the sounds of the horses eating and the trickle of water down the stream again. And my erratic heartbeat. It thudded loudly inside my chest. If Kris hadn't broken the silence, I was sure I would have collapsed of a heart attack.

"I think it was a helicopter," she whispered.

"I think you're right."

Connor threw his hands up in the air and rested them tightly behind his head, like you would see criminals surrendering to the police. When he turned to look at us, his face was lit with excitement.

"Riley, there's someone up there, flying around. Do you know what this means?" His shirt was rolled up, exposing his forearms, and his jeans had permanent dirt creases from sitting hours on end in the saddle. With his wild hair falling around his face and a twinkle making his eyes glow, he looked like a different man. One who believed in something we had starting losing long ago.

Hope.

As Connor spun happily around in circles, I looked in all directions, remembering where we were standing.

"We're close to Camp Pendleton. The military is around here. But I don't see any signs of them," I murmured.

"So?" Connor asked.

I didn't want to do it, to burst the bubble he was suspended inside. But there were obvious questions to ask. "The base is so close that you'd think we would see signs of something if anyone was there. Tanks, military vehicles, choppers."

"Yeah, so?" He stood with his arms still clenched behind his head.

"Connor, anyone with training can fly. But this close to the base...you'd think if anyone was alive, there would be signs of them. Look around - all I see are civilian vehicles - where's the military?" I gestured up at the Interstate above us, hoping he would understand what I meant.

"Does it matter who is flying the d.a.m.n thing, Riley?" He was p.i.s.sed. His arms collapsed down to his sides and he glared at me. His bubble was sufficiently popped.

I sighed. No, he didn't get it. "Connor, if everyone died here - if the Military is dead - then anyone could be flying that helicopter, or whatever we heard. Anyone. It means that we need to be careful. We have no idea who is up there but if there was hope of any sort of order being left - of anyone with authority surviving this...don't you think we would see signs of that when we're standing on Government property?" My voice shook with emotion.

Connor released a sigh and stared up into the sky. "I saw someone the night before last," he said without looking at me.

"What?" We didn't talk about it freely, but we all knew we saw things in the shadows.

"A real person, walking down the road close to where we were camped. It was too dark for him to see us but I saw him."

"You know it was a man?" I stared at him, confused and upset that he didn't say anything sooner.

"It was late, but yes, I think it was a man."

We stared hard at each other, probably wondering what the other was hiding. Kris slowly moved beside me and said in a lighthearted tone, "Well, both of you prove the same point."

"And what's that?" Connor snapped. Irritation showing on his face and coating his voice.

She slowly bent down to pick up her canvas pack and swung it over one shoulder before answering the question Connor nearly spat out at her. "It's true. We aren't the only survivors out here."

The horses hung their heads low to the ground, walking only because we still controlled their reins. The light had faded from the sky an hour before, setting over the ocean in a purple haze that left the fluffy clouds above us a pale pink color. The reflection of the light that moved further and further over the Pacific lit them as if a giant light bulb glowed from within.

"So this dirt road will take us east if we stay on it, but there's a campground just north of here. Mind going off the trail for a few minutes?" I peered up from the dark map and pointed my flashlight into the trees.

"In the dark?" Kris asked behind me, snaking her arm around my waist loosely.

"If we cut through the trees here it's a straight shot to the trail that leads into the campground. Connor?" I turned to look at him, and noticed he obviously was still brooding from our argument earlier in the day.

"Fine. Lead the way," he said with an indifferent shrug.

"Okay." I shined the light into his face. "Into the trees, we go."

We found a game trail right away, at least what used to be a game trail and most recently probably been where water had run off from the rain. But it worked. Only a few minutes of slowly maneuvering through the poorly lit ditch and we were out on the other side, in the open. The horses picked up their pace when we reached the campground trail, as if they could sense the end of the day's journey waiting for us up ahead.

It was too dark and we were too tired to spend much time checking out the camp area when we found it, so we set up at the first site we came upon. We let the horses graze while we laid out our sleeping bags. Connor was quiet while he set up the small camping stove to heat our dinner.

"Why are you so upset with me?" I asked him as Kris stepped out of earshot to take the saddles off the horses. He set a can of beans directly on top of the small burner and stuck one of the flat camping spoons inside the tin, stirring the gooey mess around in a clockwise direction.

"How long are you planning on ignoring me?" I didn't bother to hide the irritation in my voice.

"I'm not ignoring you," he sighed, "I'm thinking." He rocked back on his heels and ran his hand through his hair. Even in the glow of our small lantern, I could see the dirt beneath his nails.

"And..." I prodded.

"Riley, I want to turn around...and go back." He stared up at me until I blinked, then returned to stirring the refried beans.

"You want to go back..." I forced the words out through clenched teeth, "I don't understand...we're almost there Connor. Why now?"

He slammed the spoon down with a clatter and I felt Kris's eyes on my back. "Because, Riley, this is a colossal waste of time and only you don't see that!"

His form faded into the distance as he stormed off into the night. Kris shrugged at me and continued removing Sunny's saddle. Despite the fact that I wanted to smack Connor upside the head, I had to smile. A clump of gra.s.s protruded from the mare's mouth and with each sideways chew, clods of dirt fell to her feet. Whatever plant she had found was so good that she pulled the entire thing - roots and all - out of the ground for a snack. As she munched she looked at me, her eyes hooded yet knowing.

She didn't want to be there either.

The tree branches whipped from side to side and bobbed up and down as the breeze rustled through the campsite. Connor hadn't said much to Riley when he came back from his walk. He upset her and Kris too, who wouldn't even meet his gaze. Brilliant. The hard-packed earth beneath where they lay hurt his pressure points, especially his hips.

It was cooler tonight. Probably just as cold as the night before had been with the rain. He could taste the sap from the pine tree they slept under. The sharp and woody smell left a tangy flavor on the back of his tongue. No matter how many times he swallowed, he couldn't seem to make it go away.

He looked over to his left, where the girls rested. Riley was asleep with her back to him. With her blonde hair out of her braid, she looked younger and wild. He wished he could see her face. Someone has to be the first to say sorry... right?

He leaned over and gently gripped her shoulder, pulling her toward him. Her body fell backwards with ease and he smiled as her head tilted to the side.

"f.u.c.king Jesus!" he screamed, kicking the sleeping bag from his legs. "f.u.c.k! f.u.c.k!"

Her face was gone. b.l.o.o.d.y sinew and muscle hung from her head in chunks, something had eaten down to the bone in places. He screamed for Kris to wake up but she didn't stir an inch. Connor stumbled to the foot of her sleeping bag and recoiled in fear from the blood pool collected underneath her body.

Smacking at his face he cursed the night, not noticing the warm and sticky blood that was splashed on his cheeks and chin, and looked down at Riley once more, hoping - praying it wasn't real. That she would reach over and wake him from this living nightmare before he stroked out. But she didn't. All he could focus on was the light color of her wavy hair the golden strands that fanned out from her damaged face. Her face. Her face...what did this to her? What in the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l did this?! The metallic taste of her blood rushed into his nose and mouth and he gagged so hard it made him light-headed. The last thing he saw before he pa.s.sed out was one of her hands resting awkwardly on her chest...curled up tightly around a tuft of his own dark curls.

He did this?

The pulpy blood dripping off his face was all the proof he needed.

Yes, he did this to them.

CHAPTER fifteen.

"Connor! Connor, wake up!" I attempted to pin his flailing arms to his chest while yelling his name over his screams. His whole body thrashed beneath my hands so violently that I was afraid to let go. But after his elbow hit me squarely in the chest, I was flung ungraciously backwards into the dirt, landing on my a.s.s.

He flew upright, punching at the empty air between us and even though his eyes were open, his expression was still tormented by sleep, by whatever happened to him in his dream. I raised a hand slowly after catching my breath and carefully touched his arm. He recoiled from my fingertips and blinked at me. A semblance of recognition slowly spread across his sweaty face and he flinched at my smile.

"It's okay," I said quietly as Kris softly wept behind me, "I'm here. It was just a dream, you're okay."

"Riley?" In one fluid movement, he was out of his tangled sleeping bag and in my arms, his face buried in the curve of my neck, his tears hot against my skin.

Kris's slender arms wrapped around me from behind. The three of us sat in the cold dirt, crying softly and holding onto each other until the only sign of our tears were the dried up salt trails that streaked down our faces. We slept huddled in a pile under the moon-less night, arms and legs entangled - afraid to let go of one another for fear that sleep would s.n.a.t.c.h us away to somewhere awful, where nightmares really did come true.

I woke with a cramp in my side. Kris's arms were coiled tightly around my left bicep and Connor's hand was draped over my waist - his hand clutching a fistful of my shirt. For a moment, I stayed perfectly still, half on and half off the sleeping bag below me, wondering what the three of us must look like from above. Two grown adults and a teenager afraid of their own dreams. Afraid to sleep alone under the stars. But the cramp in my side spread until the sharp pain became unbearable and a spasm tore through the muscles in my lower back. With a groan, I rolled; jostling both the other's awake with a start. As they rubbed the sleep from their faces, I stretched my legs out until my back relaxed.

"I'm getting too old to sleep on the ground."

Kris laughed but Connor groaned out a string of curse words in agreement. The sun had been up at least an hour, which meant we would be eating breakfast on the go. No time for coffee.

Twenty minutes later, we had the horses saddled and rubbed down with their daily morning scratch. Foxy playfully nipped at the ends of my ponytail until I gave her a small handful of loquats. She ate them happily - seeds and all.

"Ready to go, Foxy?" The mare snorted and tossed her head up and down in answer.

As Connor swung his legs up and mounted Sunny, I took a final glance at the campground. At the beginning of autumn, the place should have been packed with campers. Children running along the dirt roads on lizard hunts. Couples walking hand in hand up and down the trails. The campground host lecturing a group of men about their late night festivities and scolding them in the morning to pick up their beer cans. But no...nothing. The campground was empty and probably always would be. I wondered if the same time next year, the campground would be overrun by weeds. It would blend in with the surrounding landscape - the only sign that humans had ever marked the place would be the crumbled concrete picnic tables and sun-bleached bathrooms.

"You coming, sweets?" Connor said softly as he backed Sunny up.

"Yeah."

It was time to move on. By the end of the day, we would be only hours away from Los Angeles. Tonight would be our last night of traveling and then the next day would begin the search. Perhaps I knew it then on that sunny morning - that finding Mariah wasn't going to happen. And I was okay with it. The outcome was no longer the objective - finding anyone alive was. I put all my energy into rescuing Mariah that I forgot there were probably dozens like her out there, lost and just needing someone to look for them. Someone to care, someone to find them. For whatever reason, that someone had become me.

"Look how close we are," Kris said quietly as she held the map out while we led the horses back down the trail toward the highway.

"Almost there."

We didn't speak for hours. The three of us simply sat upon the horses as they took us out of San Clemente and up the Pacific Coast Highway to Dana Point. We took a break for water then climbed back on, continuing north until we stopped for a late lunch in Laguna Beach.

"Wow, what do you think happened here?" Connor asked.

As we neared the heart of town, more and more storefronts showed signs of damage or were blown out completely into the streets. It was like a warzone. Not one corner stood unscathed.

"I have no idea, but I'm glad we weren't around for it."

Every mile or so there was a pile of burned objects that sat in the middle of the side streets that ran into the PCH. It took me three miles to realize it wasn't just debris that had been burned.

"Jesus. There are bodies in there," I whispered.

We tried not to look, but all through the community of Laguna Beach, there were piles and piles of them, thrown together in the street like garbage. In some places, the heaps of 'trash' reached over ten feet high and twice as wide, as if every single body had been dragged out of the houses on that block and set to burn. Though it felt eerie, it was unusually quiet - unusually still. That feeling of being watched, of having sets of unseen eyes on my back had all but vanished. For the first time in a week, it felt like the dead were really gone.