“Right up here!” Tyler sat forward, nearly ejecting himself from his seatbelt with enthusiasm. “Turn here. Turn here, Harry. This is my street.”
“Are you sure?” Harry asked.
“Harry, I’m eight.” Tyler said as if to convey to Harry that he was old enough to know where he lived.
Harry turned.
“Oh, wow. That’s my friend’s house. There’s his bike. You think he’s in school?” Tyler rambled. “Bet he’s in school. I know he’s in school.”
Harry didn’t say much. The street was eerily quiet and for a weekday morning there were a lot of cars.
Not once in the trip did Tyler ever make a comment about not seeing a person or car.
Tyler was too focused on his mother and that worried Harry.
“Right there. It’s the house with the blue truck. That’s my house,” Tyler said. “You can pull in the drive way. My mom won’t mind.”
Harry continued to drive.
“At least she’s home. That’s her truck. She likes trucks. My dad has the little car. We left it at the station.”
Harry pulled into the driveway.
“Harry? How do I tell my mom about my dad?”
“Listen Tyler…”
“You’ll help me, right? Oh, wait, you already said you would. She has to be worried.”
“Tyler…”
Before Harry could say anymore, Tyler opened the car door and was out of the car and racing to the house. Harry called out, “Wait.” But Tyler was too fast.
Harry got out of the car. The drive had made his bones settle and he was feeling the effects of the train crash. Plus Harry really didn’t sleep the night before and any rest he did get was on the cold concrete floor.
He wanted to talk to Tyler, perhaps warn him in a gentle way in case something was wrong. He thought he’d get the chance when he saw Tyler was waiting by the front door.
“Come on, Harry.” Tyler waved and opened the front door.
Harry rushed as best as he could but by the time he reached the stoop, Tyler had entered the house with a mad rush calling loudly, “Mom!”
Harry knew the second he stepped inside all was not well and immediately started trying to figure out how he was going to deal with the aftermath.
“Mom!” Tyler charged up the stairs.
Harry took only a few steps and he saw it.
It was a hand.
He stared at the back of the sofa and could see a woman’s hand reaching for the lamp on the table.
Tyler raced above him calling out and Harry walked over to the couch.
He sighed at the sight of the young woman on the couch. She was laying there, a blanket covering her, her mouth open, her face pale and covered with purple splotches that made her neck look swollen.
She looked different from the bodies they had seen in New York
She looked as if she had fought a long illness.
Harry reached for the blanket. His intent was to cover her completely and then explain to Tyler.
Just as he gripped the edges of the blanket the young voice startled him.
“I think she may have gone…” Tyler stopped speaking.
Harry turned to see the boy standing there.
“Mom?” He inched toward the couch. “Mommy?” He ran over to her body. “Mommy?” Gripping her hand, Tyler called her name
“Tyler.” Harry reached out.
“She looks sick.” Tyler shook her. “Mom? Mommy, wake up. Please wake up?”
Harry could only step back. He was crushed by emotions at that moment and tried to sort them out. He didn’t have a clue on how to handle the situation. “Son.” He laid his hand on Tyler. “Son, I don’t know why. But she’s gone, son.”
Tyler quit his attempts at getting a response from his mother.
He immediately dropped down, his head fell to his mother’s chest and he started to sob as he held on to her. He cried louder and harder than Harry was ready to hear.
There was nothing Harry could do. There were words he could say or comfort he could give. Not at that moment. All he could do was be there, wait and be ready for whatever Tyler needed.
He had no answers to give the boy because Harry didn’t have the answers either.
And Harry wished he did.
Foster wanted to go to Queens. He needed to go to Queens but they were nearer to Brooklyn because the honking of the car horn had brought them in that direction.
They had found life but not as they knew it.
Those who wandered the residential street were on a tour bus headed to the Aquarium.
The bus had stopped for breakfast and they were all boarding when it happened. As a group, they held a rope, walking and trying to find help and get to a hospital.
There were forty people in all.
Most of them could not hear very well; some were completely deaf.
With the exception of a few who could see light and dark, every single person was blind.
Foster gave Abby the job of getting everyone together and calm while he went into one of the houses and gathered up water to clean their wounds and any pain medication he could find.
It took three houses for him to get what he believed was enough aspirin.
Stepping out of the last house, Foster had to label Abby’s job of gathering people a piss poor one. They still weren’t organized.
“Everyone!” he called out. “I need to know who can hear me at this level.”
A lot of people raised their hands.
