36
The way the heat rose from the road played tricks on Sally’s eyes. She lowered her sunglasses to notice the vapors disappearing.
“Yo, you ready?” called Fred , a lanky man deep into his forties. She looked back to him loading his motorcycle up, recalling the day they met. She had been left by her initial group in an abandoned bar off of route 66. She had come down with a fever there in the middle of winter, and her people were scared, none of them of science or understanding. She remembered her mother crying as she went to sleep and when she woke the next day, the fever gone and beaten and no one there to smile at her anymore.
She survived for a few days gathering things from the bar, opening old cans of juice and olives, until she heard Freds engine roll through town. Without thinking she ran outside, excited for the sight of another living soul.
Fred saw her as he passed and slammed on his brakes, turning the bike as he did. He sat there idling for a long while, his helmet on, considering the young girl. Finally he lifted his helmet, took a direct look at her and waved her over.
They had been together ever since. He never asked her story, never asked for anything. Sally imagined like her, he just was happy for someone to spend the end of the world with. No questions, no demands. No blame for faults, no expectations for being something else.
Just two people, a motorcycle, and the heat of the pavement and miles to journey till the end of the road.