Garlind changes the subject. “We’re headed out of the city. Any idea where we might find more people?”
“I think recent events have taught us not to congregate in large numbers,” the man replies. “If I were you, I’d head for the most remote part of the hills and never come out again.”
I exchange a glance with Garlind. I don’t think this guy is going to be at all helpful to us. He’s jaded and hurt, saving the planet doesn’t seem to be high on his priority list right now. Not that I can blame him. It’s all too easy just to give up in this new world.
“Good luck, then,” I say, ready to leave. We’re just wasting time here with him. We’ve done all we can for his leg and he can at least move around now.
He leans against a partial wall. “Thanks for the leg.”
“You’re welcome.”
We part ways and I hear him hobbling around behind us. I’m not overly excited about leaving him alone but he clearly doesn’t want our help either. I’m certain he would have asked for it otherwise.
I try not to let the man’s negativity play on my mind. He doesn’t know us. He doesn’t know how determined we are to find a better way of living.
“Where do you think we should go?” I ask when we’re walking to the outskirts. The long highway stretches before us, promising of a very tiring walk.
“I’m not entirely sure,” Garlind replies.
“That soldier from the army said they were just one of three bases left in the country. We could try one of the others.”
“I think he said Fort Indiantown Gap and Fort McCoy. They could have been attacked too.”
“I know. But it won’t hurt to try, right?” I hold my breath as I wait for an answer. I need Garlind to be optimistic again. I need him to want this as much as I do.
“I guess not.”
“Garlind, we have to keep trying. We can’t give up now.”
He kicks a stone and it skitters across the road. “We’ve been trying. I’ve been trying my whole life and where has it got us? We’ve lost everyone, everything. How long do we try before we admit defeat?”
I’m so unused to hearing him speak like this. It’s like a little light has fizzled out inside him. I don’t know how to turn it back on again.
In truth, I would like to give up too. It takes too much energy to keep thinking and planning. Hoping for something better takes time and it would be so much easier to just sit down and never get back up again.
But then the aliens have won. I’m not going to give them the satisfaction of taking our home planet just because they want it. They have no right.
It’s that fire that fuels me. I’m not sure if it’s revenge or justice but both reasons work for me.
“We’ll try the nearest base first,” I decide, not allowing him to argue. “If that is gone, then we’ll try the last one. If that one is gone too, then we’ll decide what to do next. I’m not ready to give up yet.”
I reach for his hand and take it in mine. His palms are warm and clammy. The humidity is starting to feel like it’s choking us. Heading north will make it cooler.
We walk in silence for a while longer as the sun starts to make a lazy decent down to the horizon. My stomach is beyond hungry but there are no remnants of human life out here to search for supplies. It looks like we’ll be eating leaves and berries again tonight.
Garlind surprises me when he breaks the quietness. “You’re right, we need to keep going.”
“It’s not about being right, it’s about doing what we need to do.”
“Right now, I think we need to find a place to stay for the night.”
“Agreed.”
We veer off the highway and abandoned cars to enter the foliage on the side. The trees aren’t particularly dense but the undergrowth is. Bushes and vines have claimed their space and are all vying for prime position underneath the sun.
I long for the large knife I used to have that helped tame the bushes to make a pathway. It’s probably buried underneath tons of concrete and steel back in Washington DC.
We trudge for as long as we can before clearing a space big enough for us to sleep. I work on trampling down the bushes while Garlind goes in search of something to eat.
He returns a short time later with a pile of berries in his hands. “There’s some water down the way a bit. I can fill our bottles and purify it before it gets too dark.”
He hands me the berries and takes our plastic bottles. I sit down and wait for his return. I long for the safety of my childhood bunker tonight. It seems a world away from here in the darkening forest. I wonder if anyone else has found it and claimed it as their own by now?
I hope not.
My parents’ presence is still there, locked in the steel walls. They built everything, they deserve to have it preserved. It’s almost like a shrine to them now.
When Garlind returns, we eat and then lie down to sleep. He pulls me a bit tighter into his embrace tonight. Perhaps he is thinking of all the people we’ve lost too. His parents are gone, so are mine. All our friends have disappeared, presumed dead. If we didn’t have each other, we would have absolutely nothing.
I fall into a fitful sleep.
My nightmares are centered around the aliens and all the atrocities I saw today. I want to shake those images from my mind but it seems my mind just wants to use them to hurt me.
Waking is a relief but I feel as tired now as I did when I went to sleep. Judging by the sleepy look on Garlind’s face, he feels the same way.
“On to Pennsylvania,” I say, mustering as much cheeriness as I can.
He groans. “Maybe we should take a day or two.”
“We’ve taken a whole week already. We need to get moving.”
He begrudgingly agrees. We fill our water bottles, have some more berries, and then return back to the road. I wish we had a map that we could follow. As it is, we can only use the sun as our compass and some faded road signs along the way to know we’re headed in the right direction.
I try to recall everything we were told by the army soldier about the other bases. He only mentioned them by name, giving us no other details.
“Have you been to Pennsylvania before?” I ask to break the silence. We both need a distraction from the relentless tedium of walking along the highway. The most interesting thing we can do is avoid tripping over the vines that have snaked across the road.
He shakes his head. “No. I once had an aunt that lived there, apparently. My mother said it was really pretty. Very green and peaceful.”
“It’s probably a lot greener now,” I joke.
“Yeah. I can’t remember anyone saying there was a military base there, though. If I remember correctly, the Amish people lived in the smaller towns in that area.”
“The Amish?” I’ve never heard of them before.
“They believed in an old fashion way of living. They had no technology and used the bible to dictate their beliefs. They got around using horses and carts.”
“I guess they had more than us, then.”
“Yeah. A horse and cart would definitely come in handy,” Garlind replies with a hint of sparkle returning to his eyes.
“Tell me more about these Amish people,” I urge.
The next few hours are spent listening to all the stories Garlind was ever told about Pennsylvania and the people that lived in that state. I love listening to him, no matter what he’s talking about. He has a way of making anything sound supremely interesting.
We sleep just off the highway when it gets too dark to see where we’re going. There is no food to be found and no shelter we can use.
It’s a long, cold, hungry night.
The morning light wakes us. I pull myself up and try to stay positive. Today we will find food. Today we will find some supplies to make our journey more comfortable.
In the very least, we have to find more water.
Setting off with hunger pains stabbing into my stomach isn’t a good start but it’s all the more incentive
for us to keep going. I remember the food they served in the bunker and how nice it felt to be full.
I think it just makes it worse.
We continue on.
Eventually, we enter a town called Baltimore, according to the remains of the sign on the side of the road. It is a city dense with buildings. We wander in, always hoping to find some supplies.
A few of the larger buildings are set by the river. They are red brick and would probably be lovely even without all the vines trying to claim them as their own.
One of the stores is a bookstore. I would love to spend some time wandering around several levels of nothing but books. Unfortunately, the few I glimpse through the windows are covered in mildew and would probably make me sick by the time I finished reading the final page.
I could live here, I realize. Even though it’s a large city, it feels friendly. Most of the buildings are still standing, too, which helps. Whatever razed Washington DC down to the ground obviously didn’t reach this place.
“Hey, what do you think this is?” Garlind asks.
I’ve been too caught up dreaming about all the books to notice what he’s up to. I spin around and locate him in a paved square. To one side is the river and to the other, the metropolis.
I wander over, curious about what he’s looking at now. It has to be something good to distract him from all the rotting pages in the bookstore.
He points to something a few feet in front of him. Not that he really needs to, the object sticks out here like a sore thumb. While everything else is covered in vines and weeds, this thing is completely uncovered and shining under the midday sun.
It’s made of metal so smooth there doesn’t seem to be any joins. It’s square with edges so fine they might cut through skin if I were to touch it. I’m tempted to, just to check, but decide against it.
In the center of the flat top square is a glowing light. It changes color from orange to red to yellow and back to orange again. There isn’t any electricity running in the city so it has to be run by some kind of battery.
“I can honestly say I have no idea what it is,” I admit.
“Same here. It’s so…perfect.”
He reaches out to lay his hand on the surface.
“Don’t touch it,” I say quickly, panicked. “It could be anything. You might get hurt.”
His hand hovers a few inches above the square. The light continues to change color in waves. It’s almost mesmerizing to watch.
“Maybe it’s some kind of art, leftover from the days before,” Garlind offers.
I shrug. It doesn’t look like it could be a piece of art but what do I know? Everything I learned about art was gleaned from books. They didn’t exactly cover the modern art movement.
“I still don’t think we should touch it,” I say.
“I really want to.”
I swat at his arm playfully. “You’re such a child.”
His hand slowly backs away and returns to hang at his side. “It’s a bit creepy, it being here and all.” He crouches down and examines every inch of the metal.
I walk around the object, trying to recall what it could possibly be. There are still so many things I don’t have a name for and this is definitely one of them. The best I can come up with is square object. Not exactly imaginative.
Without warning, the object starts to emit a high-pitched whine. So loud that I have to cover my ears to be able to bear it. Garlind and I exchange a wide-eyed glance before we move.
Staying put while it’s making that noise doesn’t sound like a good idea. We want to put some distance between us just in case it explodes or bursts into flames or something equally as drastic.
We run for the building across the road and slip into the store on the corner. It was once a café, judging by all the tables and chairs dotted around the place.
The window is broken so we use a table as a barricade to watch the object from across the road. We have to be at least a hundred meters away—hopefully enough distance to stay out of trouble.
The light on the object glows lime green and seems to get brighter the longer we look at it.
“I don’t like the feel of this,” I say. The whole thing is making me very uneasy. A square box like that doesn’t just appear in the middle of an abandoned city. It doesn’t look like it’s aged one day and the vines haven’t claimed it.
Something isn’t right.
“Maybe we should get out of here,” Garlind says with apprehension. He’s already moving toward the door before he stops speaking.
I follow closely and we hurry in the opposite direction of the object. We have to weave through the city in order to find our way back out again.
The whole time, I expect to hear an explosion or commotion coming from behind us. It takes at least a dozen blocks before the whining siren starts to fade away.
I think I can still hear it, even when we are no longer in hearing range. My brain wants to play tricks on me.
We pick up the highway again and check the sun to get our bearings. We continue to head north so we’re still going in the right direction.
“Maybe it was some kind of beacon,” Garlind says after a while of walking. The weird square is obviously still playing on his mind too. I’ve been turning it over and over again as I wrack my brain trying to work out what it was.
“There could have been an enclave of humans around that put it there,” I reply. “Maybe they use it for something or other.”
“Yeah, maybe. But they didn’t come when it started making so much noise.”
“We didn’t exactly stick around for long.”
“Maybe we should have.”
I shrug. “Better to be safe than sorry. Didn’t curiosity kill the cat or something like that?”
He laughs. “Yeah, I guess so.”
After what has happened over the last few months, our safety is my number one concern. I’ve learned my lesson on being foolhardy. I’m not going to apologize for being overly cautious these days.
Way better to be alive and wondering than dead and knowing.
“Tell me some more stories about Pennsylvania,” I say to change the subject.
“How about a story about Transylvania?”
“Sounds even better.”
Garlind begins to enthrall me with stories about vampires and demons. The kind of stories you don’t get by reading books about history. It’s enough to make the time go quicker and for me to forget about my rumbling stomach.
After a few hours, we come across a small town and start searching for some supplies. I’m tired of constantly having to find new things because we lost our last set of supplies. Maybe this time we’ll hold on to them for more than just a couple of days.
Most of the stores here have been picked clean. I take some rags in case we need bandages and manage to find a blanket in the back of a storeroom.
We search each building together, refusing to split up when there are only the two of us. There is safety in numbers and ours are so low we barely have a chance of survival.
The fifth store in the row was once a hardware merchant. The sign has a faded hammer on it and swings with just one remaining bolt still attached. I might find a new knife here so we head inside.
Surprisingly, the shelves have already been picked clean. I don’t know what people wanted with screws and nails but they took them nevertheless.
All traces of sunlight disappear as we reach the back of the store. Dirt and grime cover the front windows so the sunbeams aren’t strong enough to make it all the way back here. I have to feel around so I don’t run into the shelving.
I take a step in the darkness.
All fall straight through the floor.
Chapter 4
I scream as I freefall. Garlind yells something that I don’t quite catch in my panic. A second later and I crash to the floor in an inelegant heap.
All the air is pushed from my lungs, leaving me winded and panting.
A moment later, Garlind lands by my si
de. I can’t see him, but his scent is as familiar to me as my own. He always smells like pine trees and sunshine.
“What is this place?” he asks.
I blink a few times but can still only see shadows. My hands can detect more than my eyes do right now. I place my palms on the floor, find the wall, and then follow it around.
“We’re in some kind of room. Or box,” I say. “Four walls and no doors.”
I hear Garlind grunt as he jumps a few times, hitting the wall as high as he can go. “It’s too high to reach upwards. Maybe if you stand on my shoulders, you’ll be able to find the floor above and pull yourself out.”
“And then how are you going to get out?”
“You can find something I can stand on and throw it down.”
I don’t like the thought of leaving him in this hole but his plan does sound promising. If I can get one of the display stands from the store to the pit, he can use that to climb up. Maybe I’ll be able to find matches for some light or a flashlight—if I’m really lucky.
“Okay. Let’s do this,” I say.
I have to feel around for where Garlind is. My hands find his shoulders first and then trace down his strong arms to find his hands clasped in a foothold. Touching him in the darkness like this is more fun than I’ll admit.
My foot finds his hands as he takes my weight.
“Stop right there!” a male voice yells through the pitch-black darkness.
We freeze.
Garlind releases my foot. We turn in the direction the voice came as a cold shiver runs down my spine. The barrel of several guns are pointed directly at us as someone else points a flashlight in our direction.
I have to squint to make out the people threatening us. It’s the one in the middle that speaks. He wears a trucker’s cap with some faded writing flaking away from the white fabric.
“Tell us who you are and what the hell you’re doing here,” he demands. If his gun wasn’t enough to scare me, the tone of his voice definitely does.
I don’t wait for Garlind to answer for us like he usually does. Maybe they’ll go a touch lighter on a female. “My name is Maisy and this is Garlind. We were just looking around the town for supplies. We haven’t eaten in a long time. We didn’t mean to invade anyone’s territory.”
After The End Page 43