That Moment When: An Anthology of Young Adult Fiction

by A. M. Lalonde

  “Where should we start, kid?”

  “The bottom floors are probably already cleaned out.”

  “Wanna try 27? Since that’s how old I am. I think.”

  I nodded. Happy to know that I wasn’t the only man left on Earth who didn’t know what year it was anymore. “Then we gotta try 16 too.”

  “Anything you want. Just stick by my side.”

  “Yeah,” I laughed. At least that’s what it felt like even though the sound was deep and raw. “Don’t want to lose your only friend in the world.”

  John’s large sea glass colored eyes faltered. He gazed at me, but then again his eyes were blank. It was as if he saw everyone that he’d lost in me, just like I saw everyone who died in him. “I’ll never lose you, George. Never.”

  He’d only ever called me my real name a few times. When he said ‘George’ it took away all my pain and replaced it with something else I couldn’t name. I didn’t know how to answer, so I just nodded.

  After tearing our lungs apart climbing up all those stairs, we were both pretty pissed when there wasn’t anything to drink on the twenty seventh floor. The sixteenth floor held more luck. The third room we came to had the wine.

  John handed me a bottle the length of my hand. “Would have preferred vodka, but you know what they say about beggars, kid?”

  I twisted it open, sniffed it, and threw my head back. It tasted thick, like syrup, but it didn’t taste sweet at all.

  “Whoa, kid. Take it slow. You’re not used to the stuff.”

  I swallowed the last drop from my bottle and shrugged.

  “Want another?” I nodded and he handed me a bottle. “Let’s save the last couple, you think?”

  “I bet we can find more.”

  “I’ll take that bet.”

  It was four more rooms before we cheered with joy again.

  We returned downstairs to the lobby because we could build another fire, and we knew where the exit was. I leaned against my backpack and finished off another tiny bottle of wine. Head spun. Body numb. Like when I would go on a roller coaster with my brother. “I feel...weird...”

  John laughed. “That’s called drunk, kid.”

  “Feels pretty good.”

  “Try and remember that tomorrow morning.”

  “What happens tomorrow?”

  The light from the fire brought a lively glow to John’s face. “You’ll see.”

  It wasn’t long after that my eyelids became heavier than stone. With my backpack as a pillow I curled up and fell asleep. But I didn’t dream. I saw nothing but endless darkness whenever I closed my eyes.

  That night I felt something on my hand though. It was warm and wet. The sensation made me slowly open my eyes. Its coat was jet black and shone against the light behind it. The light was bright, almost like the sun, and it nearly blinded me. When my eyes came into focus and saw the creature next to me I screamed. The animal’s eyes were black as coal, tongue pink like my sister’s ballet costume, and a tail that wagged quickly. I didn’t scream because it was scary, but because it had been so long since I’d seen one.

  John bolted upright. He pulled me up off the floor with him as I screamed. He pulled me back against the reception desk we’d dismembered earlier, my leg caught on my bag, and scattered the contents in front of the dog. John stood in front of me and raised the kerosene lamp when he called out, “Are you alone?”

  A woman’s voice came from one of the flashlight beams. “Are you?”

  “Asked you first.”

  I could hear the girl breathing. It was quick and harsh as if she’d just ran a mile. “Yes.”

  “How long?” John asked.

  “Few years. What about you?”

  John’s hand gripped tighter around my shoulder before he said. “Been the two of us, for a while now.”

  “What did you do with our dog?”

  “Nothing, he’s here,” John said.

  “I heard a scream.”

  “Your dog woke us up. Call him if you don’t believe me.”

  Another softer voice sang out from another flashlight, “Lucky!” The black lab turned back toward the girls and darted off toward them.

  A few moments passed filled with girl-whispers before John asked.

  “How’d you get here?”

  “Walked. Hoping it would be warmer. You?”

  “Same, from Seattle.”

  “We’re from Detroit.”

  “So what’s your name?”

  The older girl lowered her flashlight from our faces and cast the light on her own. Her dark hair hung past her shoulders. She wore a scarf and hat tucked into her parka and hood. Her lips were pale and matched the rest of her face, as if she’d been drained of life. When they parted she said,

  “Anne.”

  He lowered the kerosene lamp to the side and said, “John.”

  “Who’s your friend?”

  John looked over at me and nodded. I turned to the first girl I’d seen in five years, “George.”

  Anne had already maneuvered around the remains of our fire with Lucky on her heel. “This is my sister Brenda.”

  Her long brown hair was in a single braid that lay on her right shoulder. The coat she wore was once red, it’s crimson glow still obvious underneath ash. She wasn’t close enough for me to be sure, but Brenda was just a few inches shorter than me. “How old are you, George?”

  “Sixteen. You?”

  “Fourteen.”

  On our side John and Anne asked questions and answered in rapid succession. That’s how I found out that they were in a group, but their group had starved to death. Anne had just rushed a sorority when the Earth died along with the rest of her dreams. Lucky moved in circles around the four of us sniffing, and digging randomly at the floor.

  Brenda’s gaze followed Lucky and stopped at my backpack. “Are those books?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can you read them to me?” She gazed at me with eyes brighter than the Moon. “It’s been so long since anyone has.”

  I turned to John who was telling Anne about his time in college. I figured if he felt safe, then I should too; I leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. Brenda handed the books to me. I took a deep breath and unwrapped the twine. “Which one did you want to read?”

  “Which one is your favorite?”

  I looked at the titles and not a single memory came forward. “I don’t...”

  “How about this one?” She sat, legs crossed, on the other side of Lucky.

  “I always wanted to see a farm.”

  I ran my finger along the skinny battered spine. “I’m pretty sure it doesn’t end happy. It’s just like everything else that’s left.”

  “Well,” Brenda leaned in closer to me. “Let’s hope it does this time.”

  The books weight in my hands calmed me. It reminded me of when Dad would read to me before I fell asleep. Brenda rested her head on my shoulder as I flipped past the title page and started from the beginning.

  —ABOUT THE AUTHOR—

  Melissa Algood had moved over ten times in her life before making Texas her home. She writes while binge watching t.v. with her longtime love, Izzy, and their cat, Madame Bijou. She’s been writing since she was a child and has since published (and won awards for) love poems, horror stories, and a romantic thriller Blood On The Potomac, all while working full time at a salon in downtown Houston.

  If you enjoyed The End then be sure to check out more of her work www.melalgoodauthor.com

  SAND AND STARSHIPS

  Heather Lee Dyer

  I lean against a sand-pitted doorframe and slow my breathing so I’ll have enough oxygen to return home. I gaze through my scratched visor across the ruins. The hot desert sun is casting mean heat waves that blur the structure in the distance, its ominous dark line barely visible.

  It was engineered and built to protect us from the others. And maybe it has, but this barrier that surrounds our entire Compound has shaped my very existence. It holds imp
ortant secrets about my past and future, which I’m determined to discover.

  Someone long ago named it the Fence. I shake my head and laugh, the sound quickly getting swallowed up in my mask. What a ridiculous name for such an engineering marvel.

  The Fence is actually an enormous metal structure that is several meters thick, and at least three times as tall. The outside is electrified, its power generated by harnessing the wind, a resource we have plenty of these days. There are only two gates and both are watched carefully by vid surveillance and roving patrols in hover cars. The front gate hasn’t been opened at all in the sixteen years I’ve been alive, and the gate in the back is only used for bringing in fresh supplies. We don’t see many visitors here.

  Each time I come outside I try to get closer to my goal of examining the whole structure up close. This section is the last of the 100 meter-long area I need to cover. It’s been the hardest because it’s the farthest away from any of the Compound’s structures. And my oxygen supply.

  I’ve studied the schematics on how the Fence was engineered, how the wind generators work to keep it powered, and how thick the gates are. I want to see it up close and see how the metal has lasted all these years in the harsh sun and the constant battering of sand. But mostly I want to see if the rumors are true. No, I need to see if the rumors are true. So I’m out here again in over one hundred-degree heat, with low visibility and the largest air tank I could steal from the chem lab.

  * * *

  The rumors around the Compound are that groups of people used to attack the Fence with homemade explosive devices or old-war military rockets. When I ask why they would want to harm us, the staff tells me that people are just upset because we have our own self-contained water, food and oxygen systems. So many of their lives outside the Compound have been altered by the changing weather conditions due to pollution and overcrowding. I haven’t heard of anymore uprisings, so it must be getting better out there.

  I want to see if the rumors are true. Although I’ve never been on the other side of the Fence, I should be able to find some sort of evidence of repair on this side of the structure if something that powerful really did hit it.

  So in my free time away from the lab, I come out here. I’ve been able to make it most of the way around the perimeter so far. Oxygen tanks, like the rest of our supplies at the Compound, are rationed carefully. So it’s taken me a while to get this far.

  I step out of the relative shade of the doorway and walk quickly toward the blurry line on the horizon. I can feel the difference in temperature between sun and shade even through my enviro suit. I concentrate on keeping my breathing even and watch the ground so I don’t trip on debris hidden in the sand.

  I keep an eye on my oxygen levels and distance markers in the corner of my vid screen. It should give me a warning when I’ve reached the safe distance to stop and return back to the Compound before I suffocate.

  Red warning lights suddenly start flashing inside my helmet. I frown. I read the words scrolling at the bottom of my visor and stop in my tracks. It’s not an oxygen warning; it’s an incoming aircraft warning.

  I look up and have to squint against the bright light, even though there is permanent cloud cover above the Compound. I see in the distance a black spot coming toward us. I turn and hurry back toward the Compound buildings. Crap. This could be a problem.

  Why is he back already?

  I’m just as familiar with the ruins as I am with the Compound. I hurry down empty, sand-filled streets, and cut through fallen buildings. In order to keep up my speed I have to ignore the oxygen depletion warnings that are flashing in my visor.

  As the familiar buildings come into view, I can hear the last hiss of oxygen drain from my tank. I hold my breath and sprint toward the lab. My lab is a huge two-story building that is several kilometers long. I have an entrance off to one side that’s protected from the outside elements.

  But it’s still too far away.

  I force myself to think through all my options. With a grunt I veer off to the right and run the last few meters to the ancient storage building. It was the first structure built at the Compound, and is the closest to me right now. I reach it and fumble with the old locking mechanism as my extremities start to tingle. The door finally opens and I throw myself inside and pull the door closed. I slide down to the floor and rip my helmet off to gulp down the cool, oxygenated air.

  I lean my head back against the cold metal wall and allow my breathing to normalize. In the back of my fuzzy oxygen-deprived brain an alarm is going off trying to warn me of something. What am I missing?

  * * *

  “Seriously, Abishai?” A deep voice seems to boom all around me.

  I open my eyes and blink the blurriness away. Crap. I forgot I came in through the storage building.

  “What have I told you about this?”

  Double crap.

  I look up and focus on my father, who’s standing over me with his hands dramatically on his hips. A few of his assistants nervously huddle off to the side. He’s not wearing his usual un-washed lab coat, so he must’ve gone to Seattle again for a meeting. I was hoping he’d gone farther. He’s back too soon.

  I clear my throat. “That I’m not supposed to use any of the oxygen tanks?” I gingerly stand up, regaining my balance. I’m careful not to look my father as I speak. It’s easier to keep the sarcasm and anger out of my voice when I can’t see his face.

  “You know that’s not what I’m talking about!” he roars.

  I imagine him turning red. It always starts in his neck and creeps upward until even his pasty white, bald head is tinged pink. I turn completely away from him so he doesn’t see the smile I’m fighting to hold back.

  “You should be in your lab working, not out wasting your time doing whatever it is you do out there.” He must already be turning down the hallway, because I can hear his assistants scrambling to get out of the way. “We’re running out of time. Get back to work.” The squeaking of his shoes on the cement floor starts to fade as he moves away.

  I grab the oxygen tank and head in the opposite direction. I shake my head as I hear him yelling at someone unfortunate enough to get in his way. Everyone here is a nervous wreck around him. I’ve learned it’s better if I stay away from him as much as possible.

  I understand why he’s so angry and driven all the time. Really, I do. What we’re doing here is extremely important. Someday soon the pollution and overcrowding will overwhelm our planet, and then all of humanity will need our Eugenesis Project. The Project will bring Earth back to life, although it will take a few centuries. It’s a lot of pressure to have that much responsibility. The way he’s been acting lately, I’m guessing that things are getting worse around the world. Or he’s just going mental from all the stress. Since I’m not allowed outside comm or data access, I just have to take his word for how things are on the outside. And hope he can keep it together long enough to finish the Project.

  * * *

  I take a flight of stairs down to the tunnels. They’re wide enough for our battery-powered vehicles to drive through, but I enjoy the walk. I’ve been decorating the bare cement walls with old space parts I’ve found in our main warehouse.

  I run my free hand down the wall, touching the cool metal pieces. There are broken jump ship doors, shuttle parts, heat shields, signage, and other space junk with faded emblems from NASA, SpaceX, Virgin Galactic, Boeing, Starchaser Industries, Firefly Space Systems, Mars One, and many others. I smile. My father hates that I’ve done this. The warehouse where I discovered these treasures used to be my mother’s lab. The few staff that would talk to me when my father wasn’t around tell me that my mom was an amazing engineer. I like to think I take after her. My part of the Project is designing the drones to disseminate the Project around the globe. In my lab several prototypes are waiting for me to decide which one to start manufacturing.

  I shift the oxygen tank to my other shoulder and hurry down the tunnel. It leads to the main re
search building where my father works and sleeps. I can tell when the tunnel meets up with his building because sterile white tile replaces the gray cement walls and floors. It dizzyingly bright.

  I turn down another hallway and enter the chem lab. I drop off the tank to be re-filled as the tech frowns at me. I give him a little wave and leave quickly before he can give me a lecture.

  Since I’m still in my enviro suit, I need to change before I go back to my lab. I enter the antiseptic-smelling elevator and put in my code to take me down my living quarters. They’re located four stories below ground and take up the whole level. Below mine there are several other top-secret levels that contain most of the original research for the Eugenesis Project. My father doesn’t know that I figured out how to access those years ago. There isn’t anywhere in the Compound that I can’t get into. Over the years I’ve explored it thoroughly. What else am I supposed to do when I’m not working in my lab? There are a handful of scientists and staff at the Compound with my father and I; but there’s no one my age here. I’m left alone most of the time, which is fine with me, since the alternative is to endure my father’s raging.

  I step out of the elevator and into a completely different world. I can’t help but to grin every time I come home. The floor is covered with thick carpet and the walls are painted with colorful murals depicting African dancers, animals and colorful ribbons. Mom made sure that if she was going to raise her child inside a giant metal fence, that our living quarters would at least be colorful and non-sterile. Although I don’t have many memories of my mom, I at least have this last gift from her.

  I change quickly and eat a snack from the food replicator. It’s not as high tech as the ones we use upstairs, but I’ve got all my mom’s recipes programmed into this one. On the wall next to it, I’ve hung the only picture I have left of her. She’s in a crisp white lab coat that contrasts completely with her warm, dark skin. She’s holding me in her lap, and her smile is genuine and seems to light up the whole room. I wish I could remember more of her.