Seconds.
Is it too late to change my mind? I think I’d rather take my chances with the rain now. At least that will just burn my skin off. That’s got to be better than having it torn off. Right?
“Good kitty. Just let us go.”
He rubs his paw along the ground and crouches down with his hind legs. He’s getting ready to spring on me. One swipe of his paw and I’ll be down for the count.
I take a step backward and duck to put a low branch between us. The lion is very still as he watches me with intense eyes. There is no doubt he’s thinking about what I’ll taste like. He’s waited this long, he’s going to enjoy killing me.
My time has run out. He lunges for me. I close my eyes as a scream loosens from my throat. I wait and expect the impact any second now.
A loud thump hits the ground.
I haven’t been mauled to death, so I open my eyes to see how much longer I have. The lion lays on the dirt, pawing at his eyes.
“Hurry up!” Sarah calls out.
I turn around and see her waiting for me. What the hell just happened? I can’t analyze it right now. All I have to do is run as quickly as I can and find shelter from the rain. And the lion. And anything else that could cause us harm tonight.
We run in the darkness just as another clap of thunder shakes the earth. The storm is close now—way too close for my liking. The trees aren’t an option for shelter, we need to find something more substantial.
“Where do we go?” Sarah asks.
“Give me your hand and just run. Keep your eyes open for anywhere we can hide.”
She slips her little hand in mine and I grip it like our lives depend on it. I’ve been separated from my friends once before, I’m not going to let it happen again. We need to stick together at all costs.
The moonlight is all but gone as the clouds work together to block it out. Lightning strikes illuminate the world around us for a second at a time.
It’s enough, though. In one of those flashes, I see a barn. It’s rickety and there are probably a million holes in the roof but it’s our best chance right now.
“Over there.” I point to the barn and we divert our course to head for it. If there were fences around the property once, they no longer exist. We manage to run directly to the gaping mouth of the building.
We go inside and I wish I had my flashlight. There will probably be nothing left of our backpacks and supplies by the time the storm passes and we can go back to retrieve them. All we’ve got is the clothes we’re wearing—and Sarah has even less than that, just my jacket.
The lightning gets more frequent, giving us shuttered glimpses of our surroundings. The rain starts in earnest. As predicted, it comes through the roof but only in parts. As long as we can stay away from the holes and runoff areas, we should be okay.
Hopefully.
One of the flashes shows me the back of the barn. There are smaller rooms with panels that only go halfway up. They might have had horses here once and kept them in their own pens. The half-walls still standing will offer some protection from the rain coming in through the roof.
I’ve still got Sarah’s hand gripped in mine as I guide her around the edges of the barn to reach the stables. The roof is gone in the first one, so we try the next one in the row. This one has a roof and appears to be dry enough for us to hide.
We crouch down in the corner and catch our breath.
“What happened to the lion?” I ask. I have to know, otherwise I will expect it to come pouncing in through the door and eat us without thinking.
“I threw a rock. Got it between the eyes,” she replies proudly. “You’re welcome.”
“You were supposed to run like I told you to.” Although, I can’t be angry with her. She did save my life back there and I can’t thank her enough for it.
“The lion would have killed you if I did.”
“I know,” I concede. “Thank you.”
“You’re not very good with animals, are you?”
That comment elicits a laugh from me. “No, I’m not.”
“Good thing I am. We make a great team.”
“We do.”
A crack of thunder tears opens the sky and shakes the rickety walls of the barn. Sarah whimpers and curls into my side. I hold her tightly—partly to comfort her and partly because I need comforting too. That sound was loud.
The lightning continues to flash like a camera shutter. Every few seconds it takes a picture of the earth and shines light through all the holes in the roof and walls. I’d like to close my eyes so I can’t see it, but I think that is scarier still.
Dampness brings an assault on my nose. The stench in the old barn is a combination of animal dung and mold. I’m pretty sure it’s toxic and will probably kill us if we stay here too long. Hopefully the rain will stop soon so we can be on our way.
I prepare myself for a long night. Sarah falls asleep in my arms before I gently lower her to the ground. Our stable is so far remaining dry. I will do anything to keep it that way. If we become waterlogged, we will be trapped. I don’t fancy climbing the walls to escape. I’m not sure I can.
I try to sleep but it doesn’t come easy. I spend a stupid amount of time worrying about my friends and wondering where they are tonight. I hope they aren’t caught out in the rain. I hope they have some food. I hope they’re alive.
My dreams are as horrible as my waking thoughts. I twist and turn through a labyrinth of life-threatening situations and insufferable loss before my eyes finally blink it away.
It’s daylight but not sunny by any means. The clouds are lighter, so I know night has passed but the rain continues a steady downpour. At least the storm has gone somewhere else to terrorize others.
Sarah is still asleep so I try not to disturb her. It’s not like we can go anywhere or do anything while the rain keeps us trapped like we’re in a cage.
The window is covered in mold. I wrap my hand in a dirty T-shirt and rub it until I can see out. Everything is gray and foggy outside. The rain is set in for the day. I don’t think it’s going to clear anytime soon.
Great.
I sit on the ground and wait for Sarah to wake up. My stomach is grumbling but I don’t have any food on me. Our backpacks and all our belongings are back by the creek at our campsite. Along with all the food we’ve collected.
It’s going to be a very long day.
Sarah wakes to the bad news. We spend our time talking and trying not to think about food. I’ve never been this hungry before. Even when I had to ration the meals in the bunker, I at least had something to put in my stomach. Now, unless I want to eat dirt, there is nothing to settle the churning storm in my insides.
By nightfall, the rain is still coming down. I search the bunker for something I might use as an umbrella. A large plank of wood, sheet of plastic, anything I can use to cover myself from the rain while I slip out and grab our supplies.
But there’s nothing.
Everything in the barn is either rotten and riddled with holes or offers no protection like a horse harness. All the things are completely useless which makes me stomp around with frustration.
“I could run,” Sarah offers. “I bet I can run so fast the rain won’t even touch me.”
“Nobody can run that fast.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“How?” she asks, making me stomp even harder. I think they used to call this going stir-crazy.
“I’ve read a lot of books. I know stuff and there is no way you can outrun the rain. We’re just going to have to stay here until it dries up,” I reply. I really do try to keep the annoyance out of my voice but fail. I’m sick and tired of this whole situation.
Sarah goes quiet and starts tracing pictures in the dirt with her finger. I’ve probably upset her, but I can’t bear to apologize. I’ll have to wait for us both to be in a better mood.
My stomach is the sole focus of all my thoughts. No matter how hard I try to distrac
t myself, everything always comes back to my hunger. I start to picture food everywhere. My shoes look like bowls of soup, my fingers could be cookies. I want to eat everything in sight.
We go to sleep starving.
The next day is exactly the same—but worse.
Everything is damp and the puddle in the middle of the barn is turning into a swimming pool. The smell gets worse as the rain seeps into everything. It’s a miracle our stable has managed to stay dry for this long. Another few days of this rainfall and the pool will engulf our safe haven too.
My eyes don’t want to open on the third day. I know it’s going to be another long day of nothing with hunger making my stomach ache unbearably. I’m so thirsty I’m tempted to drink from the puddle. If I thought there was a chance it wouldn’t kill me, I would give it a go.
I know I’ve got to get up. I’m not going to sleep away the whole day. If I give in to this lethargy, I fear I’m not going to get up again…ever. Sarah needs me, I can’t leave her alone out here in the middle of nowhere to fend for herself. She says she can look after herself, but I remember the state she was in when I found her.
My eyes are crusty and raw, but I tear them open slowly. I’m facing the stable wall. I don’t know where Sarah is or if she’s awake yet. I expect to see the exact same thing I fell asleep looking at the night before.
But I don’t.
There is a faint sunbeam shining on the wall. It’s strong enough to break through the dirty window I attempted to clean days ago. It’s enough to fully wake me up.
I spring onto my knees and rub my eyes. The beam is still there. It’s not an illusion brought on by starvation. The sun is shining in the sky and the rain has finally stopped.
Hallelujah!
“Sarah, wake up.” I shake the little girl until she looks at me with bleary eyes.
“What’s wrong?” she mumbles.
“The rain has stopped. We can go find something to eat.”
That certainly gets her attention. She sits up and looks out the window. “The sun!”
“I know. The sun.” We laugh with the last burst of energy we have. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”
We run out of the barn and into the morning air. It’s fresh and humid with the moisture still lingering in the air. Rain has made everything damp but very green. If I was in a better state of mind, I might think it was beautiful.
It feels like we were in the barn for weeks on end. I have to remember where our campsite is so we can backtrack there. I wasn’t exactly paying attention to our surroundings when we found the place. The threat of being killed tends to make your focus razor-sharp like that.
“I think it’s this way,” I say and point to our left. Everything looked a lot different in the storm and darkness. We’re in for a whole lot of walking if I’m wrong.
Sarah follows me without arguing. I think all the fight went out of her a few days ago. She looks much younger than her eight years now. I didn’t think she could get any skinner and yet she has somehow managed to.
After about half an hour of walking, I hear the creek that we were camped beside. It gives me enough hope to follow it for a while. When I recognize the tree we climbed to escape the lion, I’m relieved enough to cry—except I don’t have enough water in my body to make tears.
I run the rest of the way and scoop up my backpack. Sarah takes hers and spins around with it in her arms. The material is slightly damp but otherwise unharmed.
There is no sign of the lion that attacked us.
We both dig through our bags until we find food. It’s a race to see who can stuff the crackers in our mouth the fastest. I try so hard not to scoff them down but can’t help it. I’m so darn hungry I could eat my own arm.
I admit I actually did consider eating my arm at one stage but I didn’t have the energy to chew.
I wash the dry crackers down with a mouthful of water. It’s never tasted so good before. It was ridiculous being absolutely surrounded by water in the barn and not being able to drink any of it. The irony was not lost on me.
When I’m finished, I sit on the ground and inhale a few breaths. It takes every ounce of self-control that I have not to eat every crumb of food in my backpack. I have to save some, it’s not negotiable.
I’m not sure Sarah has the same level of control. She’s still eating. “Hey, leave some for later. You’ll get a stomachache if you eat too quickly.”
“My stomach already aches,” she replies, spitting out a few crumbs.
“That’s all the food we have. Pace yourself,” I tell her more sternly. We have to ration, as hungry as we are. We could be miles away from more supplies for all we know. It could be days before we eat again.
She finally stops and reluctantly hands over the bag of food. “You better hold on to this for me.”
I take it and stow all the food in the bottom of my pack. I do the same with the water. I’ve barely eaten enough to sate my hungry and my mouth is still dry.
“We’re going to be doing a lot of walking again today, aren’t we?” Sarah asks, as if she already knows the answer and doesn’t like it.
I nod. “We need supplies and we’ve already wasted three days in that barn.”
“What’s the rush, anyway?”
“I told you, I’m meeting my friends there.” At least, that’s what I hope will happen. My chances seem to dwindle with every day that passes. Despair creeps in a little closer every time I think of Garlind and the others.
She kicks a rock at her feet and dislodges a wad of mud. “You don’t even know if your friends will be there.”
Damn kid. She’s really in a mood today. So am I. “They’ll be there. I never asked you to come with me. I tried to tell you to stay in the Lexington Mall.”
“Let’s just go.” She crosses her arms and stomps off—in the wrong direction.
“It’s this way.”
She turns around and stomps past me. If she’s going to be like this all the way to Charleston, it’s going to be a very long journey. I think I would even prefer River ordering me about over this moody eight-year-old.
We’re only a few minutes into our walk when I see a Generation Ship in the sky. I know what I’m looking at now. It’s exactly the same as the others I’ve seen before. This one is moving in the same direction, at the same speed.
I point to the ship. “That’s why we’re going to Charleston. You see that flying ship up there?”
Sarah stops. Her mouth drops open when she locates the ship. We watch it in silence for a while before she says anything. “What is that?”
“It’s a Generation Ship. People used them to escape the planet before the meteorite struck. Now they hover up there with hundreds of people in them, living lives with food and medical care. They don’t have to worry about anything.”
“For real?”
“Yep.”
Her eyes fill with hope that I haven’t seen since telling her she can come with me. “You can get us on one?”
“I know someone who can. He knows more about these ships than anyone else. He says they watch the shoreline for people so they can come down and pick them up,” I explain, exactly the way Garlind told it to me.
“Are there other kids on board? Kids my age?”
“Probably. There would be all ages up there. Babies born all the time.”
“That’s amazing.”
“Now do you know why we have to hurry?”
She smiles a toothy grin. “What are you waiting for then? We’re wasting time standing here, chit-chatting about it.”
Yes, we are.
My plan sounds very easy. Step one: get to Charleston. Step two: find Garlind. Step three: board a ship.
So easy.
If only that were the truth.
Chapter 17
Our day doesn’t seem so bad after seeing the Generation Ship in the sky. I really needed some kind of a boost and that did it for me. Even Sarah seems to have snapped out of her bad mood. Our footsteps are lighter, the su
n a little bit sunnier.
I know we’re going to be saved by one of those ships. They will spot us and send a shuttle down for us. Perhaps they’ll let us choose a job we’re interested in. Or maybe they’ll send us to school? There are so many possibilities that it makes my stomach flutter with excitement.
Living on a ship is going to be very different from our life down here. But not really too different from being in the bunker. It will be a steel box where we do everything and live the best life we can under these circumstances. I think being surrounded by steel walls again will be comforting.
My parents would be so happy if they knew how close I am to being rescued. In the final stages of my father’s illness, he kept apologizing to me. He kept saying he didn’t want to leave me alone, that it wasn’t fair in any way to me. He can rest in peace now, knowing I’m far from alone.
We come across a town much smaller than Lexington around lunchtime. There are still no clouds in the sky, so we decide the pass on through and only stop long enough to search for supplies. There has to be somewhere else we can stay tonight.
The town is quaint and cute with barely more than a few streets of shops and a few more of houses. The windows are still intact, something I don’t see very often.
“Let’s split up and search. Grab any food you can find and keep it for later,” I instruct.
Sarah doesn’t argue, just nods and breaks away to the opposite side of the street. If feels weird being alone again after being cooped up with the kid for days on end.
In the first store I have to break the window to get inside. The wooden door is locked and won’t budge no matter how many times I bash my body against it. The glass tinkles as it falls to the floor inside.
I climb through the window with my flashlight poised. I do a quick sweep of the room and try to work out what kind of store it was.
There are weapons everywhere.
Knives bigger than I’ve ever seen, dusty guns with weird attachments, and a bunch of other things I can’t even identify. One of the items looks like it should be worn over all four fingers on a hand. Large spikes protrude from one side of it.
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