After the Day

by Matthew Gilman

  He moved on to the inner tents. He made sure the sun was in front of him so his shadow wouldn’t give away his position. Keeping the rifle up, he moved to the tent “doors” and pulled the first open, empty.

  The next tent was riddled with bullet holes. He moved quickly and found another dead body inside. It looked like Bruce almost matched his kill count without trying.

  There was one last tent. And still one last person left unaccounted for. John remembered stories of guys that were too cautious and let their guard down. He moved in slow and pulled the flap back.

  A woman stared at him. Blonde, young, frightened. She shivered. She knew she was going to die. John raised the gun and aimed at her. One to the head would make things quick. He aimed. He couldn’t pull the trigger. He lowered it then raised it again. The girl didn’t move. Frozen with fear.

  “Get the fuck out.” John said.

  The girl didn’t move. She stared at him doe eyed, shaking.

  “GET OUT!” John yelled.

  The girl started to move then bolted out past him. She ran but then stopped. John kept an eye on her. She turned around.

  “Thank you, I wasn’t like them.” She said. “Thank you.”

  She turned around and ran off.

  John wondered how many people might have been kept against their will. He tried to forget the question so he could sleep well at night. Number twelve was running away and his job was done. A young girl was not going to be a threat. Even if she was lying there were no supplies here to attack with. These people were desperate. They didn’t eat people because they liked it. It was because they didn’t know what else to do.

  John refocused and raised his M4. He moved out of the camp and stopped at a tree. He pulled a sheet of paper out of his pack and nailed it to the tree. The sign read:

  THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS TO CANNIBALS

  The camp would stay, the bodies would stay, a long term reminder of the penalty for such an act. John walked into the woods and spotted a patch of blood in the leaves. It must have been Isabel’s. He started to run back to the farm. He hoped to catch up to them before then.

  Norah was the first to reach Isabel. Holding her rifle in hand Isabel was still alert and looking for more people to come at her.

  “Honey, it’s ok. It’s over.” Norah said.

  Isabel put the M4 down and continued to put pressure where she was shot. Her side burned and she was losing blood. The bullet went through and left a large hole toward her back. Norah wrapped a scarf around her and tied it.

  “This should help with the bleeding.” She said.

  Handing one of the rifles to Norah, Bruce picked up Isabel and carried her on his back towards the farm. They walked as quickly as they could. Bruce’s legs burned and he breathed hard as he pushed himself to Isabel’s salvation.

  “Bruce,” Isabel said. “If Fatima doesn’t want to save me, I understand.”

  “Don’t talk like that. Why wouldn’t she want to help you?” Bruce said.

  “I don’t want to tell you. You would think differently of me. I don’t want you to remember me like that.” Isabel said.

  “It’s going to be ok.” Bruce said as he left Norah behind and picked up the pace.

  Reaching the farm, Bruce hollered out for Fatima. She came out on the porch and spotted Bruce carrying Isabel. Aurora came out on the porch.

  “Pretty lady, what’s happening?” Aurora asked.

  “Go inside Aurora, it looks like I have some work to do.”

  Fatima ran into the kitchen and cleared the table. Grabbing the medical supplies out of the cabinets she started preparing things for a gunshot wound. She was still scrubbing her hands when Bruce brought her into the house.

  “Put her on the table and remove her top.” Fatima said.

  Bruce pulled and tore at Isabel’s shirt. The blood was more visible now. Bruce was able to lie to himself before, but now he was face to face with the facts.

  “I don’t care what she did before, please help her.” Bruce said to Fatima.

  “I’m a doctor, what she did doesn’t matter.” Fatima said. The look on her face was professional. In a matter of minutes she was transformed back to the person she was three years ago. Her days in the ER had come back to her.

  Fatima poured hydrogen peroxide into the wound to see how clean it was. She saw the exit wound and tried to figure out how the tissue was and if any of it needed to be removed for the healing process to start.

  “How much blood has she lost?” Fatima asked.

  “I don’t know.” Bruce said feeling helpless and useless.

  Fatima looked irritated. She filled a large pan with water and started boiling it. Then she found some salt and added a measurement to it.

  “I need tubing and a needle.” Fatima said.

  Bruce ran through the house trying to find materials to use. Then Norah came back. She was out of breath and dropped the guns next to the door.

  “How is she?” Norah asked.

  “I’m trying to make saline solution but I need some kind of tubing and a needle to administer.” Fatima said.

  “I already have it.” Norah said.

  Norah walked to the basement door and went downstairs. When she came back up she had a bag of saline and some tubing with an IV kit.

  “Will this do?” Norah asked.

  “No different than working in Africa.” Fatima referred to the items being expired.

  Fatima was able to get the IV started after the second try and then hung the bag from the light above the table. She continued to clean the exit wound and trimmed some of the flesh off that would cause infection.

  She covered the wound in gauze and asked Norah and Bruce to find something to carry Isabel to bed for rest. Isabel remained unconscious during the whole ordeal and finally woke up the next day. She had gone through two bags of IV solution and the bleeding had slowed down to a more moderate pace. The bed had a layer of plastic under the sheets to keep from ruining the bed.

  John finally reached the farm house after dark. He wanted to make sure there were no surprises following him home. Fatima looked exhausted and was still covered in blood on her hands and torso. John hugged her anyway.

  “I was worried.” Fatima said.

  “I will never leave you.” John said. “If I’m late it is because I’m doing things right.”

  “It doesn’t make me worry any less.” Fatima said.

  John kissed her and hugged her.

  It was about a week before Isabel was awake and talking normally. Aurora never left her side saying that she wanted to look after mommy. Fatima used what antibiotics they had to prevent infection from setting in.

  “There isn’t much so make sure you don’t get shot.” Fatima told the others at dinner one night.

  When Isabel was finally up and moving that was when John and Fatima went back home with little John. Fatima left instructions on how to take care of Isabel until she was fully recovered. Norah gave John and Fatima a parting gift. A few hundred seeds were added to their collection for the garden. Plus three chickens and a rooster were given to start a steady supply of eggs and protein. It was a large haul. The chickens were in a wooden cage. The bulk of the cargo was the hard part, but they were able to carry it. The chickens would be worth it. They both knew they needed them and while it was exhausting they finally managed to get the chickens back to the cabin.

  John spent the next day building a hen house and fencing in the garden and yard to keep the chickens in. The chickens would have free reign to the vegetable garden and supply fertilizer to the plants and offer pest control. Fatima was excited to have fresh eggs to eat every morning for breakfast.

  “Now all we need is a cow.” John said joking.

  Fatima gave him a dreaded look. Then she smiled. She may still have those city urges of dreading farm life but she had accepted that this was the new life that people were a part of.

  The next spring Bruce stopped by John and Fatima’s cabin. They were told that Isabel had
fully recovered and that they were expecting their first baby. Norah sent some more heirloom seeds to them. In addition to the seeds was a hand written note about Norah starting a farmers market in the old town. It was now four years after the day in D.C. and now civilization was starting to get back to some kind of normal.

  “She figured that after we took care of the cannibals that it should be safe to start a trading center. Plus she said that Fatima could start some type of clinic there and see patients every week.” Bruce said.

  It wasn’t a bad idea.

  “What about security.” John said.

  “Well, what else are you going to do?” Bruce said to John.

  The first day for the market was a few weeks away. Well after the first spring harvest would have started. People would be able to know what was surplus and what they needed. It was a smart move on Norah’s behalf. Bruce and Isabel were being sent around the country side to find farms and other communities that would want to trade. The people trading would set prices and after the first month standards would be set to make sure there was no arguments about price. Old U.S. currency was no longer accepted. Norah was trying to figure out how much precious metals were worth compared to the items that would be offered.

  On opening day Norah attached a wagon to her largest pig and marched it to the market. The cart was loaded with fresh greens, garlic, seed potatoes, and grains from the previous season. She also brought knitted blankets she made over the winter and other handmade crafts. Bruce came along with a minimum of arms to be present and try to keep order.

  While they were both afraid that things would break down, the market functioned magically that first day. So much so that Bruce manned the booth for Norah while she went out into the market to make connections with other vendors. One of the booths she found was an expert in precious metals and gem stones.

  He was an older man named Russell. He was alone and yet he kept a huge collection of gems and jewelry.

  “How do you still have all of this?” Norah asked astonished at his collection.

  “I owned a shop before the collapse. I opened it when I retired. We were robbed a few times before I got smart and added all kinds of security.” Russell said. “Then when I saw what was happening with the economy, I went back to the things that my parents did during the cold war. I invested in food and water. Stored away supplies like they were the investments that I collected. So when things went south I was set. My wife died a few years before so it was just me. My kids never came, most likely dealing with their own problems, and I understand that. When I heard about the market I decided that I would give civilization a shot again. How did you survive?”

  Norah took a seat next to Russell and told him about the farm. She noticed that

  many people at the market were discussing things in past tense. “How did you survive the collapse?” was a common question. People didn’t appear to acknowledge that it was still happening. Instead they talked like they were coming out of it. Maybe the market and community that it brought was exactly what they needed.

  “So how do you trade for food with all of this? The market value must be astronomical.” Norah asked Russell

  “I have no idea what the value is. There is no communication with the outside world. This, right here, is the basics of economics. The value something has is set with what two people trading set it. If I offer a ruby for a bushel of apples the vendor has to think if it’s a fair trade. If I offer a piece of silver for an entire booth of food, it’s the same question. Some will say that the trade is unfair if they take it because you can’t eat the silver. It depends on what is important to the person. Look at our old economy. People would rather pay for cable TV than make sure they had enough food on the table. It’s about priorities.”

  “Russell, I’m trying to set standard prices for things to make some order in the market in the next month, can you help?” Norah asked.

  “Sure. I’ll keep and eye out for how things are trading.”

  By the end of the month Norah had signs posted around the market stating the recommended price for items. There was the silver and gold standard prices then examples of trade like how many rounds of .22LR would be traded for canned goods. It was a guess but it helped guide people in their daily trades.

  Because of the market scavenging became a new profession. Individuals would search the countryside for abandoned houses and take whatever they could carry to the market for trade. There were many cases were people would come home and end up shooting a person scavenging through their property. It became common for people to post signs around their property stating: Scavengers will be shot on sight.

  This was to help people know that it was a new sign since the old No Trespassing signs no longer applied.

  By the end of the season Norah saw a change in the market. People who were once isolated and leery of others coming to their booths were now talkative and polite. In some cases booths that were once individuals were now couples working together. Babies started showing up to the market the following year and produce was becoming abundant.

  There were arguments over time. Bruce would have to separate people at times and later trades would either fall apart or there would be a compromise. Bruce never had to use his firearm though. The only shooting that took place for the most part was hunting. Except for scavengers that would trespass on private property people were no longer shooting each other for basic supplies. Cannibals had not been seen since the camp was wiped out and some people started forming small church groups together. After five years and millions of people dead things were finally starting to go back to normal.

  Chapter 28: Five years after the Day

  The length of his beard and the size of his pack had traded in size. Chuck was no longer the man he vaguely remembered. His shotgun was gone, having run out of shells for it last year. Occasionally he would come across a weapon with ammo but it didn’t last long. While the population appeared to have died off in a way he never would have thought, the people who remained fought over what little resources were left and were quick to eliminate any challenges along the way. Chuck’s pack held few items these days. Food, fire starter, salvaged goods, the list of wants and needs changed quickly after he first left his house. He ditched the tent that he had after it became torn and he could no longer repair it. Not long after he realized it was better to build a lean-to and camp that way. The loss of the added weight was a big difference even though the tent was light weight in design. On his belt he carried his knife and a pistol that he found after witnessing a gun fight between two gangs.

  One of the men died a few feet away from him as he hid in the tall grass. He quickly grabbed the gun from the man’s dead hands and searched for any extra ammo he could find. This was how he was able to find most of the supplies that he had on him. The knife was a SEAL pup design that he found on a body in a house he took shelter in. Whenever possible he would trade up for a better tool and leave behind the old items for someone else who was less fortunate than him.

  Fishing became his new way of bringing home dinner. The fish population appeared to explode and the water appeared cleaner as time went on.

  His reflection in the water showed his beard, now touching the middle of his chest. He remembered the homeless people he would see in the city before the Day. Now everybody was like them. He cleaned up the best he could, bathing in the cold water. With his beard and long hair he found himself praying every time for shampoo.

  After his bath he built a lean-to. These days he could construct one in a matter of minutes. When his bed and shelter were complete he would start a fire with a flint and steel kit. When he had time he would work on the friction method of fire starting in case he ever lost his kit.

  Collecting his catch of two bass with the traps he set out he gutted and cleaned the fish, stuffing them with wild onion he found on the trails and cooking them over the fire.

  Out of hunger he learned to enjoy as much of the fish as he could. He even learned to pick
out the eye’s, something that he read years before was a delicacy and now was one of his favorite parts. A hungry man can learn much when food is limited.

  Chuck slept with his pistol next to his head and his knife on his belt. It was common to wake up during the night to leaves and sticks moving only to see a raccoon searching for the left over fish that he had eaten for dinner.

  The next morning Chuck would put the fire out, tear down the lean to and be on his way. Breakfast was a thing of the past and there were many mornings he would crave coffee and wish for a hidden bag discovered on his journey. It wouldn’t matter if it was bad or spoiled he would still try to heat it up and drink it if he ever found any. It never happened though. Coffee was gone, never to be seen again in these parts.

  Whenever he came across a house he would search it. He had a system of searching that made it quick and simple. The direction he moved in through the room. He had learned how to find every nook and cranny there was and move on knowing he had not over looked anything. Even years after the Day there were still things to find in a house that had been overlooked. Simple hand tools like needle nose pliers for removing a fish hook or a few unused plastic bags with a zip lock to keep items dry while on the road. He was amazed what others had left behind but thankful they did.

  In the woods he made his way north. It felt like a safe direction at the time. He remembered most people traveling south during the first year and figured the less people the better. There were still houses and resources north, if only a few people traveled that way that could mean more for him to find, maybe even that lake house he was hoping for in the beginning of all of this.

  He soon found himself on a road. The streets still existed, cracked and dilapidated. He traveled easily on foot to a place he did not know. He wasn’t sure where he was exactly, he was sure he was still in the same state, if states still existed. The road never stopped and his feet did the same. He realized he was following a highway and every couple of miles would see highway markers and signs that meant little these days. When he came to an exit he decided to leave the highway and walk towards the nearest town.