They'd been driving for hours, mostly silent as they traveled beneath the relentless midday sun, Josh glancing over at Donna periodically, waiting for some sort of sign, any indication that she had found what she was seeking. Donna didn't know how to tell him that she wasn't entirely sure what she was looking for herself, whether she truly wanted to be doing this, or whether she just needed to be out here in the open, under the wide blue sky, no longer trapped underneath oppressive layers of dirt and concrete and steel.

The AC in the hunter green Aztek was barely sufficient to counteract the smothering heat outside, and Donna shifted uncomfortably as her skin stuck to the vinyl interior. It had been two years since the impact, and still residual vapor and CO2 gas from the evaporating ocean water kept the atmosphere warm and muggy with no respite in sight. Ironic, Donna thought, since she knew that prior to this heat everything had been covered in ice, back when dust particles still blanketed the sky. Not that she'd witnessed any of that firsthand; she'd only listened dispassionately to the updates they received in the shelter beneath the earth, then filed away the facts in her head, just like she'd always done as part of her job at the White House. If Josh asked, she could easily prepare a set of index cards that outlined the course of global warming over the next decade, but somehow she didn't think he was ever going to ask. She suppressed a sardonic laugh and returned to looking out the window.

She thought that the animal skeletons were the worst; human remains had mostly been disposed of, treated with respect and care by those who were left behind, but energy and resources weren't left over to cover up the bones of deer, and raccoons, and dogs, and bears. She saw so many that they ceased to have meaning after a while, ceased to be anything more significant than surreal roadside attractions.

Something caught her eye and she laid a hand on Josh's arm. "I think -- what does that sign say?"

Josh slowed down the Aztek until they came to a complete stop in front of the hand-painted wooden sign someone had hammered unceremoniously into the baked earth. "I'll be damned," he said in wonder.

Donna stared at the crude lettering, which read "Madison, Wisconsin, pop. 200." "I didn't really expect anyone to be here," she said, more to herself than to him.

"Well, we've come this far. Let's check it out," he said, and started up the truck again.

Donna kept her eyes on her side of the road, searching for signs of life. She'd thought she'd become inured to what had become the customary sights of their journey: twisted wreckages of wood and steel that used to be homes or office buildings; uprooted trees stretching gnarled ropy roots to jut against the hazy sky; rusted-out car chassis and fallen telephone poles, silent monuments to destruction. But knowing that the mountains of rubble she was seeing now were the last vestiges of a place she had once called home managed to stab a frisson of pain through her deadened senses, and in a way she welcomed the sensation, welcomed being able to feel something, anything.

"Look at this," Josh muttered, and they pulled up to a precarious-looking house, not much more than a shack really, slapped together with scavenged weather-beaten wood and rusting aluminum siding.

The sound of the truck must have alerted the domicile's occupants, for they saw movement at one of the windows and then the door opened to reveal a middle-aged, leathery-skinned man dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved work shirt. His wide-brimmed hat kept his face in shadow as he cautiously approached their vehicle.

"How you doin'?" Josh called out in what he obviously thought was universal "dude" language. He got out of the truck and slammed the door, went over to the man with an outstretched hand.

Donna climbed out of her side of the vehicle, but stood next to the passenger door, not as trusting of strangers as her lover. It was an odd role reversal, she realized, her being the wary, antisocial one, and Josh being more open, desperate for human contact. The past couple of years had wrought profound changes in them both.

"I'm doing well," the man said, and accepted Josh's handshake. "You folks aren't from around here, are you?"

"No, we're...well, visiting doesn't sound quite right, does it," Josh said with a tentative smile. He took off his sunglasses, squinted against the sun. "My...girlfriend...grew up here, so we decided to check things out, see...well, you know."

"Yeah." The man glanced over at Donna, looked her up and down, then turned his attention back to Josh. "Anyone still living here, you can find them down this road, then some more if you make a right at what used to be the Kohl Center. Can't miss it, there's a big Badgers sign still there." He paused. "We're just trying to reclaim some of what was ours," the man said. "Trying to get our lives back."

"I know," Josh said. "We're not...we just want to look around."

"Yeah," the man said, understanding. "Well...good luck."

"What street did this used to be?" Donna called out. The heat from the asphalt seemed to bleed through her rubber-soled sneakers.

The man and Josh both turned to look at her in surprise. "We're on what was Mineral Point Road," the dark-tanned man said.

Donna nodded her thanks, and Josh took that as his cue to shake the man's hand again. "Thanks for your help," he said, then got back in the truck, Donna doing the same. "That mean anything to you?" he asked her as he started the vehicle up again.

"Yeah," Donna said as they pulled away. "I think I used to live about two blocks from here."

*****

Even though she hadn't expected to be able to do so, Donna was still disappointed when she couldn't pick out her parents' house from the seemingly endless miles of wreckage.

She leaned against the Aztek and surveyed the general area of the place where she had grown up, and where she had spent Christmases and other holidays after she'd moved to DC. All her memories of home were tangled up somewhere in that amalgam of wood and steel.

She refused to even think about her parents, couldn't dwell any longer on what had happened to them when the earthquakes hit, or when the waves came. She'd had two years of that particular torture already.

Josh put his arm around her shoulders and briefly rested his head against hers. "I'm sorry," he said.

"I know." A random wisp of memory, her father reading the paper on the front porch on a summer evening, fluttered against her brain, then retreated. "I wasn't expecting anything different, but..."

"Yeah." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "You want to stay here tonight?"

"No," she said swiftly. "Let's keep going. We can camp later. Away from here."

"Okay," he said, not pushing it.

Suddenly Donna let out a short, abrasive laugh. She tried to stop it, but the thought kept coming, and soon she was laughing. Actually laughing.

"What is it?" Josh asked, brow furrowed in confusion, wanting in on the joke.

"My father..." Donna could barely get the words out now. "My father was so proud of himself for buying flood insurance," she said. "We used to tease him about it being unnecessary. I mean, sure, we were near the Great Lakes, but it's not like we were in a beach house or something. But he thought we should have it..." She gasped for air, the laughter hurting her lungs. "Maybe I should call Allstate and demand payment."

Josh let out a hesitant chuckle of laughter, clearly torn between being happy that she was amused about something and frightened by how close to real hysteria she seemed. "Guess the insurance company really got screwed on that one," he cracked.

She waved her hands in front of her face, trying to stop the laughter-induced tears. She knew she was acting like a crazy person now, and needed to pull herself back together, if for no other reason than to stop worrying Josh. A part of her kept expecting the laughter to turn into sobs, but she just didn't seem to have the energy to cry anymore. Crying was pointless. It didn't bring anybody back, wouldn't reconstruct her parents' beautiful home. Crying, quite simply, sucked.

She sighed as the last of the laughter petered out, and she let out a weak cough. "Take me away from here, Josh," she said wearily, the words thick in her mouth. "I don't want to be here anymore."

He pulled her into a fierce hug, and she allowed herself to draw some strength from his reassuring embrace. Then they got back in the truck and kept moving.

*****

They camped for the night somewhere in Indiana, the exact location irrelevant.

She and Josh ate some beef jerky and crackers, washed that extravagant meal down with rations of precious water, and settled in the back of the Aztec for the night. She curled up against him in the dark and his hand skimmed questioningly over her stomach, creeping underneath her shirt. She urged him on, letting him know it was okay, arching beneath his dexterous fingers. Then she pulled herself up and straddled his waist, almost banging her head on the roof of the truck.

He played with her breasts for a while, rolling the nipples between his fingers as she sighed and bit her lip in pleasure. This, at least -- this, and Josh himself -- still had the capacity to make her feel something. She closed her eyes, savored the little electric currents that seemed to run from her nipples down to her clit as he worked her hardened buds with a leisurely rhythm.

When she finally eased herself down onto his erection, sinking down to the hilt, he clutched her hips and breathed her name in satisfaction. She smiled down at him and he smiled brightly back; it was an all too rare expression for both of them these days.

They'd become quite good at this over the past couple of years; being confined to an underground shelter meant having a lot of free time on their hands, and only so many ways to spend it. Soon they were rocking together in perfect tandem, Donna leaning down over Josh, her hands palm down on either side of his chest as she ground her pelvis against his, milking his cock with her inner muscles the way he liked it. He kept one hand on her ass and the other on her breast; kept his eyes on her face as he whispered endearments to her, telling her he loved her, that he wanted to watch her come.

The familiar pressure began to build inside of her, begging to break free. She put one hand behind his neck and brought his lips up to hers, kissing him for the first time that day, putting all of her gratitude and love and sadness into it, communicating without words. He tangled his fingers in her hair and she knew he understood everything she was trying to tell him.

When their lips parted he moved his hand down to her clit and caressed it gently with his thumb, finding just the right spot. She sucked in a harsh breath and felt the pressure fluttering again, stronger and more persistent until finally she exploded, contracting around his cock, convulsing beneath his ardent touch. As the shivers subsided she continued to gyrate wildly atop of him until he came too, whispering her name and groaning with his release.

She lay back down next to him and allowed him to take her into his arms and cover her face with kisses. Lying with him like this was the only time she truly felt there was something left in this life that was worth living. She reveled in the way the skin over his biceps was taut and firm beneath her fingertips, in the way the heat from his skin bled into her own body, even in the way he smelled, that indefinable Josh-smell that she drank in like an elixir.

She lay her head down on his chest, the hair there tickling her nose, and hoped she wouldn't dream tonight. She quietly moved her hand down to her belly, thought briefly about the baby growing there, the tiny tadpole about whose existence she had yet to tell Josh. She still hadn't decided if she wanted to keep it, if she really wanted to bring a child into this world that so often seemed devoid of all hope. She wasn't even sure she'd be able to carry the child to term; food supplies were scarce and endless sticks of beef jerky hardly seemed like a balanced diet for a pregnant woman.

No matter. She didn't have to make the decision tonight. Not yet.

She watched Josh's chest rise and fall with the rhythm of his breathing, willing it to lull her into slumber. They had a long day of driving ahead of them when the sun rose. They still didn't know just how long it would take to reach the newly formed east coast, or what they would discover when they got there.

Donna closed her eyes, and tried to sleep.

End.