I cut and chopped until it was mostly gone. It looked god-awful. Down to the scalp in some places, wispy in others. Matted down in places and kookily long in others.
“I think I need to wash it so I can make it look … uniform … somehow … or better … maybe…,” I said.
She laughed.
The most elegant way to wash someone’s head over a basin, Josie had figured out by the end of the delousing episode, was to have two stools set together. The washee sits facing away from the basin and the washer sits closer to the basin, sideways. Then the washee leans back so that they are lying down, their torso resting on your knees. You put the basin under their head and you have a bottle of water and the shampoo at an arm’s reach.
I explained this to Astrid, so she sat down facing away from me and then leaned back onto my lap.
And there she was. So beautiful, laid out on my knees. She had her eyes closed, and for a moment, I just looked at her. Dirty face. Lips drawn together, chapped and rosy. Eyes red rimmed. The rise of her cheekbones. Eyebrows and lashes golden honey–colored. Some brown, dried freckle-dots that could be blood on her jawline.
Astrid Heyman. I tried to memorize how beautiful she was.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m ready.”
“I’m sorry,” I told her, “it’s going to be cold.”
I poured the water over her head.
“It’s freezing!”
I put the pitch-smelling shampoo into my hands and started rubbing. I moved my fingers in small circles over the surface of her grimy scalp.
“Mmmmmm,” she said and it was all I could do not to bring her to me and kiss her.
A trickle of water had run over her forehead to her eye. I took the edge of the towel and dabbed it away softly.
In the ruse of brushing away water, I ran my thumb over her eyebrow. It was a marvel of God, how perfect it felt under my thumb.
Brayden shot and Mr. Appleton dying and all I could think of was that perfect eyebrow.
I rinsed the shampoo out.
She shivered and I saw goose bumps go up on her forearms.
After it was done I put my hands under her shoulders and helped her sit up.
She towel-dried her hair and put her hands up to feel her head.
“Oh my God,” she said. “I’m bald!”
She turned and looked at me, her blue eyes shining.
Her hair was fluffy and standing up in all directions.
“You look like a baby chick!” I said.
She let me trim it some. I cut away the long, draggly tendrils.
In the end, she looked not so much like a baby chick, but maybe an orphan boy from a Charles Dickens book.
“It’s cold,” she said, shivering.
And I realized I had a hat! It got cold sometimes in the early morning in the Kitchen so I’d taken to keeping one in my back pocket.
It was an orange knit ski cap with a band of blue around near the edge.
“Thanks,” she said and she put it on.
“There’s like a dozen different styles in the Men’s Department, if you want a different one,” I said.
I didn’t want her to feel some kind of pressure to wear it. And if she replaced it, it would have made me feel better to know that I had given her the idea.
“I like yours,” she said.
I didn’t know what to say to that.
“I’m going to go check on everybody,” I told her.
“I’m gonna go change,” she said. “I smell, don’t I?”
“Yes, you do.” I told her. “Also, you have a terrible haircut.”
She gave me a smile. A shining golden smile, flashing in the center of our dark, lost world.
We had moved Brayden near Mr. Appleton to make it easier to take care of them.
Josie and Niko were looking at Brayden.
“Can’t sleep?” asked Josie.
“Not so much,” I answered. “How is he?”
Brayden looked ashen and weak.
“If the wound doesn’t become infected, I think he’ll be okay,” Niko said.
“And if it does?” Josie asked.
I guess I expected Niko to say something about antibiotics.
“Maybe I could take him in the bus.”
“To where?” Josie asked.
“The hospital,” Niko answered.
“You know what Robbie said. It’s shut down. There is no one there.”
“But think about it,” Niko said. “Robbie wanted to stay here. He was probably lying. The hospital might be open.”
“We can’t risk it,” I said.
“I know,” he snapped.
“Brayden’s going to be okay,” Josie said. She pressed a damp washcloth to his forehead. “You gotta pull through, Brayden. We need you to pull through.”
Brayden’s breathing was shallow but steady. Maybe he’d be okay …
“Now you two go to sleep. And I mean it,” Josie said.
I was following Niko back to the Train, only he didn’t go to the Train. He went to the bus.
“Hey, what are you doing?” I asked.
He came out with some supplies—caulk guns, some spackle, some rags.
He set them down and then headed off toward Housewares.
“What are you doing?” I called to his back.
He went to the Storage section and took a stack of big plastic bins.
“Can you get the lids?” he asked.
“Sure,” I answered. “But, Niko, don’t you think we should sleep? At least for a few hours?”
“You should. I’m going to stock the bus.”
“You don’t really think you’re going to get to the hospital.”
“Don’t you remember my motto? Always be prepared.”
He laughed. A dry chuff of a laugh.
“Get it?” he said. “It’s a Boy Scout joke.”
It wasn’t much of a joke, but I got it all right.
We were going to stock the bus.
I got us some carts, which we definitely needed.
We filled them with water. Cases and cases of water. That was the first thing we loaded.
Then we put in the plastic storage bins, which we had filled with food.
Trail mix, beef jerky, protein bars, nuts, cookies … All the things you’d think to bring on, say, a hike. Then Niko also added canned soup, oatmeal, tins of tuna and chicken meat, and I realized he was preparing for us to survive for a long, long time, from the food he was bringing.
“In case we get to DIA and have to wait,” he explained.
And that’s how I came to understand what we were packing the bus for.
It wasn’t to take Brayden to the hospital.
It was to make it to Denver.
“What about the tire?” I said. “Isn’t there one sketchy tire?”
Niko shrugged.
“Robbie fixed it the best he could. And it’s coupled with a tire that’s okay…”
After a few more minutes of quiet packing, I said, “I bet Brayden’s fine.”
“Yeah,” Niko answered. “He has to be.”
We got all the food and drinks we might need for two weeks or so onto the bus.
Niko told me to go get medical supplies.
He was going to finish caulking the roof of the bus.
When I came back with my four big tubs of antibiotics, pain medicine, bandages, Bactine, Benadryl, hydrogen peroxide, and the like, Astrid was there, helping Niko.
“Hey,” she said, with a nod of her head.
“Hey.”
She had on a pair of jeans, new sneakers, and a pink fleece.
I noticed she was still wearing my hat.
Niko had apparently sent her to get blankets and sleeping bags and now she had a big pile of them.
“Put two sleeping bags and two blankets under each seat, okay?” Niko asked her.
“Sure thing,” she said, and started bringing them on board.
“What’s next?” I asked.
He sent me to Home Improvement, for flashlights, battery-powered lanterns, and some assorted tools he thought we should have.
I came back and Astrid and Niko were sitting, resting against the side of the bus, discussing what else we needed.
“We have gas masks for each person. Food, water, first aid stuff. Do we have Benadryl?”
“All of it in the store,” I said.
He continued his list.
“Rope, matches, tarps, backpacks, oil, knives … We have two guns and some bullets…”
He rubbed his eyes.
“What about some money? Or some jewelry? Stuff to barter, maybe.”
“I’ll get it,” Astrid volunteered.
“Niko!” Josie came stumbling into our clearing.
Niko jumped up. “What? Oh God, what?”
“It’s Mr. Appleton. Not Brayden. Not Brayden. Brayden’s okay,” Josie said, tears streaming down her face.
She stumbled toward Niko and fell into his arms.
“Mr. Appleton’s dead,” she said.
Niko held her to him, encircling her dark shoulders and pulling her into his body.
She looked up at him and he looked at her and then they were kissing.
Astrid and I didn’t look at each other, but we each knew to walk away.
We left them alone, together.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
RECONNAISSANCE
Mr. Appleton’s still body lay on its air mattress halfway down the Automotive aisle. Josie must have tried to drag him away from Brayden, when she realized Mr. Appleton was dead. He looked waxen and fake in death. Like a model of his own self.
Jake was sitting there next to Brayden. Jake’s eyes were glazed over and he stared blankly ahead, rocking back and forth.
Luna was lying next to Jake. She raised her head at me and gave her stump of a tail four weary thumps.
“Hey, Jake, how are you doing?” I asked him.
“Bad,” he answered, waving the question away.
I put my hand on Brayden’s forehead. It was clammy.
His eyelids fluttered and he seemed to recognize me for a moment.
