When the grains stopped swirling and no trace of the Shepherds remained, Hope, Gabe, and Undead Elvis turned their attention to the view things they'd managed to salvage from the wreck. A search of it all turned up little. One burned suitcase. A locked metal box. Mrs. Shepherd's purse had been lying on the pavement and since neither of the men seemed anxious to explore it, Hope dove right in. First, and most important, she found an undamaged package of Planter's salted peanuts. Her stomach wrenched in agony at the thought of food. Her hands shook as she passed the tiny bag to Undead Elvis. "Pl-please," she said. "I'm afraid I'll spill them."

  Undead Elvis tore the top off the baggie and the faint aroma of peanuts was the best, most appetizing thing Hope had ever smelled in her life. She held out her hands as Undead Elvis shook some peanuts out into them and gave the rest to Gabe. "I don't need anything right now. Fella like me could stand to lose a little weight, anyhow."

  Hope forced herself not to cram all the peanuts into her mouth at once. She ate them one at a time, savoring the bright saltiness and the oily, sharp flavor of the nuts. Saliva shot into her parched mouth so hard it made her tongue cramp. She pulverized each peanut into paste before swallowing it, making the meager meal last as long as possible. When finished, she licked her palm, oblivious to any dirt or remnants of Mrs. Shepherd's char. She closed her eyes and sighed with contentment. Post-coital bliss couldn't be any better than the feeling of food in one's stomach after being hungry for what could have been days.

  She rooted through the rest of the purse. Kleenex. Lipstick. Nail color. Receipts. A packet of Always pads which she knew she would need sooner or later. And at the very bottom of the purse, a pregnancy test, of all things. This last she prepared to hurl into the sand when Gabe's gentle hand closed about her wrist. "What?" she asked.

  "It's salvage," he said. "If not now, perhaps later, señorita."

  She shrugged. "Okay, if you say so. What have you guys found?"

  Gabe found a pair of those ugly boots Hope had seen so many girls wearing. They were in the middle of the burned suitcase and had been protected by layers of charred clothing. Hope slipped her bare feet into them. They were loose but better than running around barefoot on hot pavement in the unending sun.

  Undead Elvis couldn't get the locked box open. Hope picked up a broken brake rotor from the debris around the van and held it up, ready to smash open the case, but Gabe stopped her. "Wait, I've got a screwdriver in the car. We can pop open the lock." He went to rummage around in the back of The Way.

  "What do you think is in here?" she asked Undead Elvis.

  "A pistol," he said.

  "Really? Why?"

  "A case that size that's locked. What else would it be, Li'l lady?"

  "I don't know."

  Gabe returned with a flathead screwdriver. The plastic handle looked like it had been chewed on by a dog with a flamethrower. He set the case on its side and placed the tip of the screwdriver against the latch. "Beat on that, señorita."

  "You don't have to keep calling me that." Hope raised the brake rotor in both hands. "I keep thinking you're talking to somebody else." She swung it down against the screwdriver. The case popped open without fanfare, spilling a chromed pistol and box of ammunition onto the road.

  "Looks like a thirty-eight," said Undead Elvis. "I seen a few of them in my lifetime, long ago."

  "Only six bullets in here," said Gabe after opening the bullet box.

  "You should carry it," said Hope to Undead Elvis. "You were a soldier before, right?"

  "I was indeed, Li'l lady, but I think you ought to carry it instead."

  "I agree," said Gabe.

  "Why me? I never even held a gun before, much less shot one."

  "You have more to protect than do either of us." Gabe stood, glaring at a black-feathered bird which sat on the minivan wreckage and watched them.

  "What are you talking about?"

  Undead Elvis stood as well and pulled Hope to her feet. "I think we oughtta leave."

  "What are those birds?" Hope followed the two men back to The Way. "What do you guys know that you're not telling me?" She staggered as one of her new boots flopped to one side; they were too large for her feet. "Hey, I'm the one with the gun here. Tell me!"

  Undead Elvis reached through The Way's broken rear window. "Hand it to me. I'll load it for you, Li'l lady. Then you can threaten us better."

  She surrendered the pistol him. "I'm not… I mean…" She glanced at the side mirror and watched the bird flutter away. "I don't like them either."

  The wrecked minivan shrank to a speck behind them and after awhile, Hope couldn't see it any longer. Her stomach began to twist around itself as it sought more than the small handful of peanuts.

  Undead Elvis helped to distract her by showing her how to use the pistol. Turn the safety on and off with that switch. Cock it if she knows she's going to fire it. Squeeze the trigger instead of jerking it.

  "I wish we'd found a few more bullets," he said. "I'd have liked you to take a couple practice shots. Six ain't gonna get you very far in a real fight."

  "You really think we'll run into that kind of trouble? It seems like nobody's left but us."

  "The Shepherds were around after," said Gabe.

  "Were they? We don't know that."

  "Still, maybe we can find some more bullets. Thirty-eight ammo's pretty common," said Undead Elvis.

  "What happens if I run out of bullets?" asked Hope.

  "You better hope you're the only one still standing."

  "Oh."

  The Way climbed a gentle slope. At the crest, Gabe stood on the brakes and the car fishtailed to a halt. All three occupants stared at the unexpected variation of the road ahead:

  An intersection.

  Chapter Six

  Hope and Paradise

  A side road connected to the two-lane blacktop. Instead of pavement, hard-packed gravel covered the road. A single green highway marker post sat next to the entrance with a broken yellow reflector riveted onto it.

  Hope stared at it through the windshield. It had to be an illusion, a mirage of the heat and sand, fueled by her hunger and dehydration.

  But Gabe saw it too, or he wouldn't have stopped The Way.

  Undead Elvis leaned his head in through the broken rear window. "What are you thinkin' about doing here?"

  "Take it," said Hope without hesitating.

  "Are you sure? We don't know where it leads," said Gabe.

  "We don't know where the road we're on now leads," said Hope.

  "Graceland. Well, eventually," said Undead Elvis.

  "But this side road is the first we've seen in how many miles?"

  Gabe looked down. "I don't know, senorita. The odometer's broken."

  "Look, for whatever reason, this road didn't disappear with everything else in the world. That means it's important, right? It's supposed to be here." Hope looked at the packed gravel. "Maybe we're supposed to follow it."

  "What if it disappears while we're on it? Or it leads to nowhere?" asked Gabe.

  Hope shrugged. "Then we're not any worse off than we are now. Look around you. Can you honestly tell me we're not already in the middle of nowhere?"

  Gabe shrugged. "Good point."

  He drove The Way up to the side road, slowed, and signaled before turning left. Gravel crunched under the tires. Hope smiled and daydreamed about where the mysterious road might lead. Unlike the two-lane highway they'd left behind, the gravel track meandered around the bases of mountain-sized sand dunes. The change from simple straight-line travel made all three occupants perk up a bit. Even the tone of The Way's engine changed, as if it, too, were pleased to have some variety in its travels. They wove through the dunes for what felt like hours, if time had any meaning. At long last, they swung around a final curve, and Paradise was laid out before them.

  It might have been a patch of ground the size of a football field. After seeing the unending waves of yellow sand, the lush green of life and brilliance of water made Hope's eyes water and heart ache.

  A pond of clear water sat amid a stand of trees, laden with colorful fruits. Instead of more sand, grass covered the ground except where flowering shrubs stuck up, dark green in a sea of sward.

  Hope whispered, "Is it real?"

  Neither Gabe nor Undead Elvis answered, but Gabe drove The Way the last few hundred feet and stopped where the crushed gravel road ended.

  Hope fell out of the passenger side of the car. She was so exhausted and hungry that her legs wouldn't support her any longer, but she could still crawl. Gravel cut painful scratches into her knees and hands. She didn't care, for in a moment she was on sweet green grass, and no discomfort could lessen the impact of its scent and the gentle touch of its blades. She buried her face in the field, let the heady odors wash through her, and sobbed in wordless gratitude to whatever had caused this oasis to appear to them. She'd have welcomed death if it could have been in such a place.

  "It's real," she repeated, like a mantra. "It's real."

  Booted feet appeared beside her. "Are you all right, Li'l lady?"

  "I'm not dreaming it, am I, Elvis? If I am, I don't want to wake up."

  "It's real as anything else." He bent down and offered her his hand. She took it and pulled herself away from the call of the grassy bed below. They went to the edge of the pond. Hope wasn't too proud to get down on her hands and knees and dip her lips into the cool, sweet water. She didn't care if it was teeming with lethal microorganisms. It was water, and it was good. If it killed her, at least she wouldn't die thirsty.

  Her thirst slaked at last, she splashed water on her face and then took a deep breath and dunked her whole head in. Caked-on dust and grime peeled away in clouds. While submerged, she opened her eyes and let the cool wetness assuage the pain of her dried-out corneas.

  At last, with black spots encroaching on the edge of her vision, she pulled her dripping head out and smiled at Undead Elvis. "I feel so much better."

  Gabe offered her a large apple.

  Hope smiled at him as she took it. "Apples in Paradise, Gabe?"

  "That was a quince, señorita."

  "What's a quince?"

  He paused. "It's kind of like an apple."

  Hope laughed and bit into the fruit. Sweet flesh and tart juices exploded through her mouth and she groaned with the sheer pleasure of it. She ate it in under a minute and then plucked another off a tree and ate it at a more measured pace. As she did so, she watched as Gabe sipped from the pond, splashed water onto his face, and refilled his water bottle. Her thirst slaked, her belly filled, a new appetite began to awaken, one she'd never allowed herself to satisfy. Should she still wait, now that the world had ended? No, she decided. She didn't have to anymore. The rules had changed; there were no more rules. She stepped over to him and knelt down beside where he crouched by the pond.

  "Gabe," she said in a soft voice. "I haven't yet thanked you properly for picking us up." She touched his arm and felt goosebumps appear on his brown skin under her fingertips. "Do you want to sleep with me? You can."

  He smiled. "That's a tempting offer, señorita, but I'm afraid I can't."

  Hope was taken aback. Of all the responses she'd expected, can't hadn't even been on her radar.

  "Can't? Why? Are you gay?"

  "No."

  "Don't you find me attractive?"

  "Very much so, señorita."

  "Can't you get it up?"

  "It's not that. I just can't. Lo siento. I am sorry."

  Hope yanked off her Catholic school girl top, not caring if it tore. She squeezed her breasts together and thrust them toward him. "Goddammit, Gabe! I'm a virgin, and I'm choosing you! Don't you understand what that means? I want you to love me. I want you to make me feel alive because we're in this beautiful place and it might be gone any moment like the rest of the world. And then what would we have? Nothing but sand, sand, and more fucking sand. I don't want to feel sand anymore, Gabe. I want to feel your skin against mine, and your weight on me."

  Gabe bowed his head. "I cannot. I wish I could, Hope, with all my heart, but I swore a vow, and to break it would destroy me."

  Anger rose in Hope as quick as her desire had. She grabbed her discarded blouse and tugged it back over her head again. "You know what, Gabe? Fuck you. Fuck you and your shitty vows. You could have had me right here, right now, but now you never will." She whirled to face Undead Elvis. "Hey, Elvis. You were a ladies' man. Come fuck me. Show this asshole how it's done."

  Undead Elvis adjusted his glasses, shrugged, and smiled. "I would if I could, Li'l lady, but it takes blood flowing to put wood in a fella's wang, and I just don't have the juice."

  "Then use your tongue. Use your fingers. God, don't you want me? Am I so horrible?"

  Undead Elvis walked over to her. She stiffened a little at his approach. Was he going to take her up on her offer? She didn't care. She was ready. She chewed on her lip as he looked down at her and then tilted her head forward to kiss her forehead. "It's not the right time and I'm not the right man and we both know that, Li'l lady."

  Hope wanted to lash out, to scream at Undead Elvis and belittle him as she had Gabe, but instead she stalked halfway around the pond to sulk under the soft green canopy of a willow tree. She looked back once, hoping Gabe might come to his senses and follow her.

  He sat dejected where she'd left him, head bowed and tears tracing lines down his cheeks. It broke her heart to witness his grief, and she knew she'd hurt him with her words. She knew she should go to him and apologize, but she was so tired, and the heather beneath the willow was so soft. She pillowed her head on her arms and promised herself she would only doze for a minute or two.

  A fleeting dream startled Hope out of sleep and she sat up, afraid that Paradise had disappeared while she slept, or that she had been left alone. But the willow remained over her, its leafy fronds shielding her from the burning, unmoving sun. Undead Elvis sat facing her, his legs crossed and wrists resting upon his knees. Gabe sat at the edge of the pond, whittling a stick with a pocketknife.

  Before Hope could say anything to either of them, nausea took hold of her. She gasped, bent over, and vomited up the remains of her apples. "Christ," she mumbled as she wiped her mouth. "I better not be getting sick now, of all times."

  "You all right, Li'l lady?" asked Undead Elvis.

  "I don't know. I don't know if I'll ever be all right again." Hope went to the pond to splash more water on her face and rinse out her mouth.

  "Sick to your stomach, señorita?" asked Gabe in a muted voice. "It will pass. It usually does, I'm told."

  "Being sick? Yeah, I would hope so." Hope swallowed a mouthful of water and waited to see if it would come back up. When it didn't, she drank some more. "Listen, Gabe, I'm sorry about what I said. I was being selfish and it's not right for me to disrespect your vows. I'm sorry. Friends?" She extended a hand to him.

  He took it. "Friends. You are an extraordinary young woman, Hope. I was told that when I was sent to find you."

  Hope drew back her hand as if Gabe's had burned it. "You were told? You were sent? To find me? What do you mean?" Her heart started to pound as fear arose within it.

  "Hope. Truly an apropos name, señorita. I was sent to find you to deliver you a message, because right now, in this time and place, you are the most important person in the world."

  Chapter Seven

  Hope and the Test

  Hope blinked. "I'm what?"

  "You're the most important person in the world. Or what's left of it, rather," said Gabe.

  She laughed. "That's ridiculous. I'm nobody. Just another stripper." She bent to take another mouthful of the cool pond water.

  "You're pregnant, Hope."

  Hope choked on her water and coughed until she thought for sure she'd gag and vomit again.

  Undead Elvis thumped her between her shoulder blades. "Put your arms over your head," he said. "That's what my momma always told me."

  "That wasn't very funny, Gabe," said Hope, wheezing as she struggled to regain her breath. She discovered holding her arms up over her head really did help her recover quicker and she nodded to Undead Elvis in gratitude.

  "It wasn't intended to be, señorita."

  Hope glared at him. "I can't be pregnant. I'm still a virgin. I told you that." Her eyes narrowed. "Unless someone took advantage of me while I was sleeping."

  "I wouldn't dream of such a thing," said Undead Elvis, "even if I had the ability to now that I'm a reanimated corpse. Huh. There's a good song in that somewhere. Pardon me while I work this out." He wandered along the pond's edge and hummed to himself.

  "So what about you, Gabe? Did you just play modest with me before so you could get a little taste of Hope while I was sleeping?"

  "No, señorita."

  Hope looked him up and down, but could find no sign of any dishonesty. Something about Gabe made her want to believe whatever he said, even if it was ludicrous. Even if she was…

  No, it was impossible.

  Pregnant?

  Ridiculous. He was having her on, playing a joke on her. "I don't like being made fun of."

  "What would convince you?"

  "I don't know."

  "Not willing to just take it on faith?"

  "Ha!" She'd seen far too much of the seedy underbelly of society working the strip clubs to have any faith in anything or anyone. "Any faith I might have had disappeared with the rest of the world."

  Gabe sighed. "I see. I can't say I'm surprised. You picked up a pregnancy test from the Shepherds' luggage. Why not use it?"

  Hope snorted. "You're not serious."

  "I am. Either it will show you're pregnant, or it won't. If it does, will you believe me?"

  "Fine. I'll pee on the stupid wand." She took one more defiant sip from the pool and then went off behind a tree out of view of Gabe and Undead Elvis.

  "Can't believe I'm doing this," she muttered. "Pee on the wand. I'm not pregnant. He's just… just a crazy man." She rummaged through Mrs. Shepherd's purse until she found the white cardboard box. She tore it open and pulled out the plastic wand. In the past, when it mattered, she would have just let the plastic wrapper fall to the ground to be taken by the wind. Now, when it didn't matter, she put the crumpled wrapper back into the purse. It had been made by people, a remnant of the world gone by, and she didn't want to let it blow away.

 

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