Famine: The Quiet Apocalypse

by T M Edwards

  We fell into silence as Sam concentrated on driving and I concentrated on not distracting him. We passed through abandoned towns, their buildings eerily dark and already falling into disrepair. At one point, a semi truck blocked our path. It looked like the driver had tried to drive across the median and turn around. We couldn’t risk getting stuck in mud or snow, so we had to backtrack to the last turn lane and go around the truck on the opposite side of the split highway.

  Homes and businesses passed by us, mere blurs in the darkness. There was no sign of life anywhere. The snow in front of us was virgin, untouched by wheels or footprints. It was just us in this vast and rugged land.

  In the midst of it all, I was fighting the sensation of my numbness trickling away to be replaced by abject panic. We were alone, utterly isolated, and surrounded by an endless wasteland of devastation and snow. The reality of our situation was settling on my shoulders, and I felt I couldn’t breathe under the weight of it.

  When the first hints of gray appeared on the eastern horizon, it did little to assuage the grip of anxiety on my throat and heart. We stopped for a break and breakfast when the gray turned to pink and Honey Badger started whining.

  I swallowed down the lump in my throat and stepped out into the frozen air, opening the back door and watching the dog as she dashed off into the snow-covered wasteland. Rugged mounds of boulders and scraggly trees pierced the snow to stand like dark sentinels above the shimmering white.

  This was all I had time to notice before the cold bit through my sweatshirt enough to distract me from my miasma of anxiety. After taking a deep breath I instantly regretted, due to the air turning to daggers of ice in my lungs, I forced myself into motion.

  By the time I’d dug my coat out from underneath the backpacks, my fingers were going numb. Sam joined me on the passenger side of the car.

  “You okay?”

  I nodded, though “okay” was about the last thing I felt. Sam must not have believed me, because he held my gaze until my eyes watered from more than the wind. “It’s just so...empty.” I had no idea how big the world was, until I had to see it without people in it.

  “I know.” He pulled me into his arms, and I rested my head on his chest as we watched Honey Badger run circles in the snow, barking at everything and nothing.

  “When we were in school and they’d talk about how big the world is, I don’t think I ever really understood. I stayed home whenever I could. Other than a couple miserable trips to the Disney park in Florida, I hardly left town. When I was walking across the country, I guess I just never had time to think.”

  Sam sighed, his breath briefly warming the top of my head. “Hell, I’ve flown all over the world, but it’s different when you’re on the ground.”

  I lifted my face to look at him. “I’m scared.” He was the only person I could admit this to. He was the only one who cared about me without expectations. The rest of the world needed things. They were a constant drain, and I was a battery perilously close to empty. “What if I just lose it?”

  He reached up with one hand to brush away a curly red hair that was sticking to the corner of my mouth. “You won’t.” When I opened my mouth, he smiled and placed his thumb on my lips. “And, if you do, I’ll be here until you’re ready to be put back together again.” His hand moved to cradle my cheek, then his head lowered until his lips touched mine.

  Such a simple, gentle thing, but it sent fire racing through my veins. The cold was forgotten, and Honey Badger’s canine exclamations faded into the background as his mouth moved against mine.

  Just as I tried to reach up and put my arms around his neck, he broke the connection. His gentle eyes were locked on mine, and he grinned when I pouted. “You know better. Not too close, not too long.”

  I put both hands on his chest and rested my forehead there for a second before looking back up at him. “You know what this means, right?”

  “Hmm?”

  “We gotta hurry up and end this stupid apocalypse so I can kiss you as long as I want.”

  “Sounds good to me.” After I stepped back, Sam whistled for the dog, who came running back to us with her fur caked in snow.

  “Great. You’re gonna melt all over our stuff.” I opened the door to let her hop in. After we’d all gotten settled in and the car was on the move, I amused myself by sticking pieces of dog food in the crevices and folds of the backpacks and blankets, and watching her in the visor mirror as she hunted for them. She was an odd-looking dog, normally so happy, with only the gray lines of the scars on her face and her notched ear speaking to her painful past. A bit like the rest of us.

  Miles and miles of snow-blanketed country passed, punctuated only briefly by the towns we passed through. We passed from Utah into Wyoming, and the desolation only got worse.The only thing convincing me we weren’t stuck in the same moment in time was the sun’s steady passage from dawn to midmorning, then to afternoon. Sometime after noon, the sky’s clear blue grew obscured by gray clouds that grew ever thicker as the day wore on.

  “Surely it can’t be snowing again, so soon after last night?”

  Sam glanced out the side window before returning his eyes to the road. A few errant snowflakes drifted through the air to stick on the windshield, and the setting sun was obscured by clouds. “I don’t think anything’s sure when it comes to the weather.”

  My relief from when the last snowstorm ended after only dumping a few inches of snow was fading away. The evening was quickly fading into darkness, and the farther we drove, the heavier the snow got.

  A giant green sign passed by, with miles marking distance to the nearest towns. “We’re almost to Casper.”

  Sam nodded, not taking his eyes from the roadway. “Yup.”

  “Might be nice not to sleep in the car again.”

  He grimaced. “I’d really like to make it as far as we can tonight, in case we end up with a ton more snow.”

  “And what if we do, and we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere with only the car to protect us? Wouldn’t you rather be in a hotel where we aren’t stuck in a car the size of a postage stamp with the three of us breathing on each other?”

  “Deidre…” he sighed. “We could be there by tomorrow if we keep going.”

  “Or we could end up snowed into this car for days.” My deep-rooted sense of panic was climbing at the thought. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not peeing in a cup, Sam, and neither is the dog.”

  “Sometimes the apocalypse calls for sacrifices.”

  I shifted in my seat so I could look at him easier. “Sam. What is your deal right now?” That’s when I noticed the deep circles under his eyes. “You’ve been driving all day, and you drove most of the night. The last thing you need is to have to navigate through a snowstorm in the dark.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Well, I won’t!” I knew I was being ridiculous. I knew my fuse was short because of our situation. But it didn’t help. My brain had fixed on its need to be out of the car, to be in a building, rather than lost in the midst of an endless land with nothing but a hunk of metal separating us from the elements. “Please, Sam. Please.”

  Sam didn’t respond, but when the next exit approached and its accompanying signs promised hot food and indoor swimming pools, he turned onto the ramp.

  “Thank you.” I slumped back against my seat in relief.

  But Sam retained his stony silence until we were parked next to the hotel’s front door. He was silent as he turned the car off and stepped out, silent even as he motioned for Honey Badger to jump down and pulled his backpack out. He took the crowbar out of the pile and headed for the sliding doors without a word.

  When I got out, my shoes crunching in the snow, Honey Badger bounced up to me and sniffed my hands like she expected more food.

  “Not yet. You gotta wait just like the rest of us.” Her begging reminded me to grab the dog food, which I shoved into my backpack before settling it on my shoulders.

  By the time I reached
the doors, Sam had already pried them open and stepped into the hotel’s dark interior. I slipped through the opening and followed his retreating back, visible more by his motion than by color and shape, down the hallway.

  When we came to the first open door, Sam pushed it wider and stepped in first to check it out. I waited by the doorway until he returned. “It’s messy, but it’s safe.”

  I grabbed his arm as he moved back into the hallway. “Where are you going?”

  “I got the feeling you wanted some space. I’m giving you that.”

  Too surprised to come up with an immediate response, I watched in confusion as he walked away. That wasn’t what I meant. How was I supposed to explain that I’d wanted the option of space, but was still content to be near him?

  Maybe it’s for the best. Honey Badger sat on my foot and tipped her head back until she was looking at me halfway upside down, her tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth. She was oblivious to human disagreements. She only knew I was the one in possession of her food.

  Sighing, I pulled my foot out from under her bony haunches and stepped into my room.

  12: Is This a Nightmare or a Daydream?

  I jolted awake and sat up. I had no idea what woke me, just a vague recollection of a dream that involved walking through an endless field of ice and snow. I grabbed my flashlight from the nightstand and clicked it on.

  Honey Badger lay at the foot of the bed. Her head was up and turned toward the door, her ears pricked forward. A sound issued from her throat, but it sounded more like a whine than a growl.

  Just as I was starting to think it was the dog that woke me and nothing else, the sound came again.

  I’d know that sound anywhere. The cry was distinct, even through who knew how many walls.

  I threw the blankets off and grabbed my cane. Honey Badger leapt to the floor as I stood. Hang on, Sam, I’m coming.

  With the dog at my heels, I limped to the door, the flashlight’s beam bouncing with each step.

  As I stood in the hallway, my ears strained for any sign of sound. Come on, Sam. I can’t search every room.

  The cry came again, louder this time. It was only two doors down.

  When I pushed the door to Sam’s room open and hurried into the room, I found him tangled in the sheets, beads of sweat standing out on his forehead.

  “Sam. Hey.” I set the flashlight on the table and sat on the bed just as Honey Badger jumped onto the end. Reaching out, I touched his arm gently. In his nightmares, his sweatshirt had moved up to his chest, and I could see an old scar that stretched from his navel to his ribcage. I’d never seen the scar before, and he’d never mentioned it. “Sam. It’s okay.” He whimpered, and I grasped his arm, jiggling it. “It’s okay, it’s just a dream. Wake up.”

  With a gasp, Sam scrambled into an upright position, startling Honey Badger so badly she jumped down. His eyes were wide open, but I had the unsettling feeling he couldn’t see me.

  “Sam. Sam. Wake up.” Starting to worry, I grasped both of his shoulders.

  Without warning, he hauled back and punched me in the face.

  When his fist connected with my cheekbone, blinding pain lanced through my head. I let out a scream. But instead of waking, Sam grabbed my arms and launched me into the air before throwing me onto my back on the bed. He straddled me, his hands pinning my arms to the mattress, my hips gripped with bruising force between his knees.

  “Sam!” His glazed, unseeing eyes stared in the direction of my face. His breathing was harsh and ragged, and he matched my every struggle with little effort. “Sam! Wake up!” I sobbed, panic pounding in my ears as he moved my hands above my head and held both wrists with one hand in a grip of iron. His other hand went to my throat, and I gasped for air as his fingers closed over my neck. My heart raced, my pulse bounding against his hands, as my brain went white with terror.

  He’s going to kill me. Honey Badger was barking. I was circling the dark hole of unconsciousness, multiple parts of my body blazing with pain, the strength rapidly disappearing from my limbs as he continued to cut off my oxygen. He’s going to kill me, and he’ll never forgive himself. “Sam.” My voice was raspy, barely more than a whisper. “Sam. Stop.”

  Just as the darkness had all but claimed me, the pressure on my throat, hands and hips released. I rolled onto my side, coughing, choking, my stomach threatening to empty itself. For a long moment I laid on the wrinkled sheets and tried to return oxygen to a brain and body dangerously deprived of it.

  When I’d finally gained some presence of mind, I pushed myself up. I moved with caution, heart pounding in anticipation of feeling his hands on me again. Honey Badger licked my fingers where my left hand curled around the edge of the bed.

  As I brushed my hair from my eyes, I found Sam pressed against the headboard, his knees drawn to his chest. His eyes were wide and frightened, but he was Sam again. His entire body shuddered. “Deidre...I…”

  I crawled toward him, still struggling to catch my breath. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” I reached the wall and collapsed against the headboard next to him. “I, I shouldn’t have…”

  “No.” He turned and grabbed my arms, and I flinched. With a groan, he let go. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t know.” A tear ran down his pale cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

  What happens now? My mind was blank. My nerves were somehow both on fire and numb. My throat kept threatening to spasm, and it took effort to keep my breathing normal. Never mind that, what the hell just happened?

  “Sam.” I leaned my head against the headboard and closed my eyes. The more the adrenaline waned, the worse I felt. “Please stop apologizing. I knew better. After my ankle, I knew better. I made a bad choice, knowing the consequences. I knew you wouldn’t know who I was.” Panting, I let the words end there.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t be together. Maybe you’d be safer on your own.”

  My eyes popped open. “No. Don’t you dare even say that.” I forced my body into a sitting position, glaring at him with all the determination I could muster. “Even if it were true, we’re too far into this trip for us to part ways now. It’s not like you can just send me home while you continue on alone. The car wouldn’t make it that far unless I found more gas, and that’s assuming I can follow the map well enough to make it. No, you’re stuck with me.”

  “More like you’re stuck with me.” His hands were clasped in his lap, and he stared down at them as he muttered the words.

  “No.” I moved closer, and reached out to put my hand under his chin. He resisted me, until I drew back in frustration and mock-punched him in the chest. “Damn it, look at me!” My voice broke on the unshed tears I refused to let fall.

  His head popped up, and his eyes met mine. His face was full of self-recrimination, and it broke my heart even further to see him so damaged.

  The sight of him filled me with a desperate longing to see that brokennes wiped from his features, and before I realized what I was doing, I moved forward until my lips touched his.

  For a moment I was afraid he would pull back. I half-hoped he would. We were both exhausted, and I was experiencing the world’s most intense adrenaline crash.

  But just when I thought he’d push me away, his hands moved around me and pressed against my back, pulling me closer to him.

  Somehow we ended up with his back against the headboard and me straddling his lap with one knee on either side of his hips. In a way, we’d come full circle--only this time, he certainly wasn’t trying to kill me.

  Sam’s arms released me and he wound his fingers through my hair, gently pushing my face away from his. This is it. It’s over. We’ll go back to sitting next to each other and never mention this again.

  Rather than tell me to stop, his eyes searched mine. “I love you, Deidre Scott.”

  “I love you too,” I breathed, gasping a little when his arms went back around me and pressed me even closer to his chest.

  I knew we should stop. We’d agreed.
We couldn’t take chances. The apocalypse wasn’t the time to make risky choices. When one decision could mean life or death, there was no room to make mistakes.

  But in that moment, none of it seemed to matter. We weren’t promised tomorrow. All we had was today. All there was, was the two of us alone in a dead world. Honey Badger, our mission, even the apocalypse faded from my mind as Sam’s desperate lips sought mine and his hands grasped at me.

  The cold around us was drowned by the fire between us, and for a little while, I surrendered to the desire not to think about tomorrow.