Alone

by Abigail Wallace

  Abby Wallace

  Alone

  Copyright © 2020 by Abby Wallace

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  First edition

  Cover art by Lance Buckley

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

  Find out more at reedsy.com

  Dedicated to my Grandpa Wallace. Thank you for encouraging me to be creative.

  Love and miss you.

  1

  Chapter 1

  After the bombings, I thought I was the only person left in the states. I’m only seventeen, I’m not supposed to be surviving on my own. I mean I guess there could be others out there, although the chances of anyone surviving the attack would be a miracle. But hey, I did right?

  If there are others out there they’re not anywhere near our campsite in Arizona. I’ve been walking for almost three weeks with little water and as much food as I could carry in my backpack. I don’t really know where I’m headed, but I hope to find somebody out here.

  I walk through hot sand, the sun beating down on me; sweat plasters my dirty blond hair to the back of my neck. My mouth is dry and my head is pounding from dehydration. I know I can’t go on like this forever and right now I’m starting to wonder if I should try. I don’t see the point in continuing in agony when there doesn’t seem to be anything to live for anymore.

  I sit down on the dusty ground and unscrew my water bottle. While gulping down almost half of the last water bottle I have, I look up at a large yellow sign with the words “Welcome to New Mexico” written out in skinny black letters. I look at the water bottle. Should I look for more? Should I exhaust myself trying to find more water? The loneliness and sadness overcome me as I sink deep into thought.

  I remember that day. I dream about it when I am actually able to get any sleep. It was the fourth of July; the fireworks were coloring the sky, which is why nobody paid any attention when the sound of detonating bombs filled the air. Soon a news report was texted to our phones saying that parts of California, New Mexico, and Nevada had all been bombed. Few, if any people survived the attacks. Every day after that there were reports of other western states being bombed, but nobody had an explanation as to who was responsible for the destruction. Some people fled, hoping to find a safe place to hide, but my family and I stayed.

  We thought they wouldn’t be thorough enough to bomb a campsite in the middle of nowhere. We were wrong. It was three days after the first bombs went off that Arizona was targeted. Bombs descended upon our campsite. I hid behind my father as he searched for a safe place to hide until it passed. There was screaming and wailing from the others around us. One fell on our camper, I watched it burst into flames. I was paralyzed, my brain was blank. I don’t know how I survived. All I can remember was standing in the middle of the chaos in complete shock. I heard my parents screaming at me to take cover…until I never heard them again. I just stood there and watched everything burn, I almost wish I had burned with it.

  A couple miles into New Mexico I find a small town, many of the houses have been blown to bits, but I search what’s left of the stores for supplies. I find a building to stay in for the night. It looks like the charred walls might be blown over by a gentle breeze, but shelter is shelter. I can’t sleep, cold air blows through the cracked windows. I shiver and tuck myself into a ball to keep myself as warm as I can. I wonder if there’s anyone else out there. These thoughts keep me from sleeping. I lay half awake for hours until the sun comes up. As night turns to day, I force myself to get up, feeling more tired than before. I know I need more food and water. However, starvation seems so tempting, as morbid as it sounds.

  I stumble - my legs weak from exhaustion, but I continue on. I find a half empty bag of water bottles and stuff my backpack full of them. I search through the nearby houses for resources. Of course, when I began my hopeless journey, I would go into these houses and be afraid of finding charred corpses. Now I’m unfazed. They’re everywhere, still, lifeless, human bodies. True, it shouldn’t seem this casual of a thing, but it’s unavoidable. Whoever did all this must be sick, to bomb an entire country, leaving thousands of bodies to rot. Leaving me to see them all.

  A sharp pain in my stomach has been making itself more and more known until it becomes unbearable. I stop walking and try to catch my breath. I know it is a mix of the hunger, exhaustion and dehydration. I haven’t been meeting my body’s basic needs and it’s starting to take its toll. I sit down on the hard, rocky ground. I hear faint footsteps coming close, but I assume it is all in my head, a hallucination. I begin to panic. I feel the pain again, like somebody digging a knife into my kidney. My vision fades in and out as a figure approaches. With every blink it draws closer, until eventually I stop fighting it, I relax, allowing my body to go limp. I welcome the darkness that follows.

  * * *

  Slowly I open my eyes, only slightly disappointed that I’m still alive. My head still pounds from the dehydration as I peel my tongue away from the roof of my mouth. I’m lying on an old couch staring at a large pine tree through a hole in the wall.

  “Hey there.” A boy says; his voice is high pitched, almost childlike. I sit up and look in the direction of the voice. “You didn’t look too good when I found you out there.” He says handing me a cup of water.

  I sniff it to make sure it’s safe.

  “Don’t be so paranoid. I’m not lookin’ to kill ya.” He smirks. I take a small sip. “What’s your name?” he asks.

  “You first.” I croak, my throat burns as I force the words to climb up and out of my mouth. It’s weird hearing my own voice after almost a month of not talking.

  “I’m Kevin.” I stare at him for a moment, studying him. His long, brown hair is messy and dusty. He has a faded scar, running from the outer corner of his left eye and down his cheek.

  Kevin raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to introduce myself.

  “Okay, I just saved your life so are you gonna give me a name or I can just make somethin’ up?”

  “Scarlet.” I mumble preoccupied with studying my surroundings.

  “What?”

  “My name is Scarlet.” I say louder.

  “Good to meet you Scarlet, why don’t you come join me in the dining room and meet the rest when you’re feeling a little better.” He smiles warmly, leaving through the open door.

  “The rest?” I think. “There are others?”

  Curiosity overwhelms me and I follow Kevin out of the room. I begin to climb down the rotted stairs, afraid that they’ll fall out from under me. I find my way to the tiny dining room.

  Kevin notices me come in shortly after him. The room of five other people grows silent.

  “Everyone, this is Scarlet.” He nods in my direction “Scarlet this is Kat, Ally, Evan, Shark, and Alec.” he says their names so fast I doubt I’ll remember them all.

  My attention shifts to the boy Kevin called Shark; his dark hair is messy like everyone else’s, but it’s a little shorter than Kevin’s, his eyes are a solid black. I stare for another moment and then look away. I won’t pretend that I don’t find him attractive, more than that I find his mysterious vibe intriguing.

  I walk further into the room and sit uncomfortably at the table.

  The two girls Kat and Ally sit down one on e
ither side of me.

  “So Scarlet, where are you from?” Kat asks. She talks fast. I can tell that she is a very energetic young girl. She looks like she’s probably fourteen or fifteen years old. She wears her light blond hair in a French braid that shifts just to the right of her head.

  “I’m from D.C.” I tell them.

  “Oh, I’ve been there! The White House was pretty fancy.” she replies eagerly. I just nod and smile.

  “I’m from California, but I was in New Mexico visiting family. Ally’s from New Mexico.” Kat says

  “Alec over there is my uncle.” Ally tells me. Both girls talk really fast. Like they’re stuck on fast forward at all times.

  “What about him?” I ask, nodding to Shark who’s sitting at the end of the table crossing his arms.

  “Oh him? No one knows anything about him. He just showed up a week ago.” Kat says.

  “Oh.” I mumble, looking down.

  “He doesn’t talk much. We don’t even know what his real name is,” Kat says. I find myself staring at him again.

  “Yeah, we just kinda made something up.” Ally giggles.

  “So, you all survived the bombings?” I ask, changing the subject. Ally nods.

  “Yup, a little bruised up, but we made it.” Kat says. “I think all of us have a little hearing loss, though.” She giggles lightly.

  The girls are charming, but I find myself growing annoyed with them. Maybe it’s just because I haven’t been around people in a long time. I guess it’s good that they can be so positive though, considering the circumstances.

  “So.” I begin “What do you guys do?” I ask the two girls.

  I look around at the house, much of the wood is rotted through. It seems to me like the house has been abandoned since long before the attacks.

  The others are sitting in the living room discussing something.

  “Nothing really.” Kat shrugs. “We spend a lot of time gardening so we have food.”

  “That’s it?” I watch the others talking in the living room.

  “Yeah.” She smiles. “What else is there to do? Not like we have jobs or anything that needs done.”

  “I guess not.” I frown. There must be something to do though. We can’t just be destined to sit here and do nothing until we die.

  “Don’t worry though.” Ally chimes in. “Kat and I are pros at finding fun things to do. We’ll help you keep busy.”

  “Thanks.” I reply absent-mindedly. My attention rests on Shark. Currently he is sitting on the floor. His back leaned against the wall, observing Alec and Evan’s conversation.

  “Like right now.” Ally says. I look at her confused. I’d forgotten we were in the middle of a conversation. “You can come help me get dinner ready. That’ll keep you from getting bored.” She stands up quickly and practically skips off to the kitchen.

  I steal one more look at Shark who is now fully aware I’ve been watching him before following the girls off to help make dinner.

  * * *

  We all sit in awkward silence around the table eating a small dinner. It’s the most food I’ve had in a long time, so I don’t complain. I find Shark staring at me before Ally taps me on the shoulder.

  “Yeah?” I whisper.

  She smirks and leans over to whisper in my ear, “I think he likes you.”

  Ally and Kat remind me of my old friends in my Freshman year of highschool. They have a lot of energy and everything seems to be about romance with them.

  “No, shut up.” I whisper back, still annoyed, but I find myself leaning more towards amusement. Kat looks over and Ally whispers in her ear. Kat covers her mouth and giggles. Shark still looks in our direction, probably annoyed with all the chatter going on.

  “What’s so funny?” Alec demands, giving the two girls a stern look. They stop laughing immediately and return their focus to the food in front of them.

  “Is he like, in charge?” I ask, nodding slightly towards Alec.

  “Kind of.” Kat whispers, she checks to see if he’s watching before she continues. “I think this is his house…” She looks to Ally for confirmation.

  “Alec took charge right after the bombings, we were having a family barbecue when it happened. His house and his neighborhood were destroyed. He and I just walked until we found a neighborhood that wasn’t in ruin. He was in the army before this, was just home for a short while before being deployed again. He’s in charge because he knows how to handle this better than the rest of us do.” Ally explains. I notice some defensiveness in her voice.

  “So… yes then?” I ask.

  “Yes, but I’m not sure everyone else sees it that way.” Kat says. “I know Evan doesn’t.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “I don’t know why Alec lets him stay. He disappears for days at a time and then shows up out of nowhere, usually drunk.” she tells me. “Stay away from him, though. He’s like all pent up rage and his ego is huge.”

  “Got it, don’t talk to Evan.” I repeat under my breath, accidentally locking eyes with him. I quickly look away.

  “Then there’s Kevin.”

  “Yup, I’ve met him.”

  “He’s the best. He’s really kind, grounded and super positive. If you’re ever down, he’s the one you can go to to talk.” Kat beams as she talks about him. Alec’s turned his attention back to the three of us. I find myself holding my breath as he peers into my soul… or whatever he’s peering into.

  The dining room falls silent for a second as he scans the people around the table.

  “Scarlet, I want you to feel welcome to stay here with us.” He says to me, his tone dry. I don’t know how to reply. “The girls’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping later on and if you want, you can join us in working in the garden tonight.” I feel like I’m listening to somebody read off the itinerary at a fancy resort.

  “Thank you.” I finally muster up the courage to answer him.

  After the meal I subtly make my way to where Shark is sitting. I sit down next to him and stare at the floor. When I look up I notice him staring at me again.

  “Is your name really Shark?” I ask, trying to break the ice. He looks away. “Um… Okay, not a talker then.” I mumble awkwardly, folding my hands and resting them in my lap.

  I’ve never been good at starting conversations with strangers, but something in me is telling me to try with this one. I’m intrigued by his silence.

  “I’m from D.C.” I try again to spark a conversation. Our eyes meet for an awkward moment.

  “I know.” he replies. I can’t decide if I’m happy or not. He spoke for sure, but he didn’t say anything. I guess even after everything I’m still a desperate, hopeless romantic.

  “Where are you from?” I ask, trying to carry the dead weight of the conversation. He scoots away. I frown. “Well, I tried, I guess.” I think as I stand up and walk away from him.

  “Don’t take it personally, he doesn’t talk to anyone.” Someone says behind me. I turn around to see Evan.

  “Yeah, I got that,” I sigh.

  “I’m Evan, I’m from Nevada, and you’re from D.C. Right?”

  I nod.

  I look at Evan to study him as I’ve studied everyone else. He looks older than me. Nineteen, maybe twenty. His hair is brown and cut short, he’s probably about six feet tall. I look at his light brown eyes. Something about him makes me uncomfortable, maybe it’s just what Kat said at dinner lingering in the back of my mind.

  “So Evan, where were you when it happened? How did you survive?” I ask, trying not to think of what could be running through the boy’s mind.

  “I don’t know, but sometimes I wish I hadn’t been one of the survivors,” he replies. His words are depressing, his voice is empty.

  “Yeah, I know the feeling.” I frown.

  “I just wish I could get my hands on the person that caused all of this.” he growls. I instantly grow even more uncomfortable, realizing I mistook pure hatred for a lack of emotion. Anger poll
utes the air around his last statement. I consider responding, but I don’t even know how. I freeze, considering my next move.

  My next words roll right off my tongue, almost as if somebody else spoke using my mouth, without my consent.

  “So do I.” I say. “If I could, I would kill every person responsible with no hesitation.” If only I could say I was talking like this just to get on Evan’s good side, but no, I meant it, every word. A smirk forms on the boy’s face after hearing my response. I’m startled by it. Kat said to stay away from him, and I can see why. I sense danger. But, I kind of like it. I relate to him somehow.

  “The people here,” he begins, “They don’t get it. They’re just surviving, they don’t realize that we need to be doing something, ya know.” I can hear the hiss under his tongue.

  “We need a purpose.” I agree with him. We do need to do something, but what was Evan thinking of doing? “What do you suggest we do?”

  “Well, I think we need to track down whoever is responsible and return the favor.” he tells me. As nice as it sounds, I struggle to contain my laughter. It’s not funny, just impossible. We have no computers, no internet or phones, there is no way to know who did this to us. I just nod.

  “We can’t just sit around doing nothing.”

  “No, we can’t.” I agree. “But I don’t think it’s possible to find them.”

  His smirk turns to a kind of frown I’ve never seen on anyone, his eyes harden. I find myself taking a small step back.

  “We could if we tried.” he argues.

  “We can’t do that… but we can do something.” I find myself thinking. I feel an adrenaline rush like the ones I would get back in school when I was given the opportunity to plan something.

  “They don’t understand this anger like you and I do, but we can make them understand.” Evan’s voice is low. I stand in front of him, locking eyes. “You can make them understand.” I find myself growing anxious. I’ve been here for around two hours and I’ve already made friends with a maniac, and I’m staying in a house full of strangers that I don’t even know if I can trust. Not that there seems to be a better option. “