by Dave Bowman
Mia slowly came to her feet while watching Liz closely. She looked to be about eight years old, but Liz wasn't sure. She hadn't spent much time around children.
"You'll be safe with me," Liz told her in a reassuring voice. She wished she felt a little more sure about that, since Liz herself felt so defenseless. Where would she take this child? What would they eat? How would she protect her? But she would try her best to keep the little girl safe. Leaving Mia alone was not an option.
Mia moved to unlock the door, swinging it open. She stood before Liz in a dirty, tattered dress with no shoes on. Her hair was dark brown and straight, cut to chin length. Her skin was a healthy, olive shade, with no hint of gray.
Liz noticed, however, that the girl had bruises on her arms and legs. The child had survived the virus, but Liz guessed that she had been the victim of her parents' abuse before they died. She decided not to say anything about that, at least not now.
"You never got sick?" Liz asked.
"No," Mia said. "Just my parents."
Liz nodded. Kneeling down to Mia's level, she looked into the girl's clear, brown eyes.
"I'm going to do everything I can to keep us safe. That means getting out of here as fast as possible. OK?"
"OK."
"Do you know how I can get gas? The pumps aren't working."
Mia shook her head. "My dad turned them off the other day because people were driving crazy, crashing into things. But then the power went out, so they wouldn't work anyway."
"He didn't have any gas stored anywhere else?"
"Not anymore. Just the underground tanks are left."
Liz sighed and looked Mia over gently. "Did your parents have a car?"
She nodded and pointed to a Dodge pick-up. It looked old but in good repair.
"Do you know where the keys are?"
Mia reached inside, grabbed the keys from a nail on the wall, and handed them to Liz.
Liz was relieved. Those keys meant she wouldn't have to pull dead bodies out of a wrecked car.
"Why don't you go get some more clothes and whatever else you need?"
"Will you come with me?" Mia asked. "I'm scared to go back there."
Liz followed her into the small, shabby house, trying to breathe through her mouth. The smell was overpowering. They passed by the parents' bedroom, but thankfully the door was closed.
Mia's room was cramped but tidy. Liz watched as the girl threw some thick books, papers, and a few items of clothing in a school backpack. She put on some sneakers with worn-down soles, grabbed a stuffed animal, and looked up at Liz.
"There's one more thing," Mia said, a worried look on her face.
"What?" Liz asked nervously.
Mia turned and ran out of the room, disappearing around the corner. Liz listened as the girl moved about her parents' bedroom. Mia returned a moment later, loudly exhaling as if she had held her breath.
She was carrying a handgun, pointed down, holding the grip between her thumb and fingers as if it were a rat.
"Whoa," Liz said, taking it from the girl slowly, careful to keep it pointing down. It was the first time she had ever touched a gun. She took the box of ammunition Mia handed her as well. She noticed the words .38 Special on the box.
"I thought it might be a good idea to take this," Mia said.
Liz nodded. She hoped she wouldn't have to use it, since she had no idea how to shoot the thing. But maybe just pointing it at a bad guy would be enough, if it ever came to that.
"Ready?"
Mia nodded.
They left the house, leaving the door unlocked behind them, and walked to the truck. It started without a problem, and Liz was relieved to see the tank was nearly full. She drove over to park near her Honda, and quickly transferred all her gear to the pick-up. She safely stored the gun underneath the driver's seat with the barrel pointing away.
They were just about to drive off when Mia stiffened and looked at her, eyes open wide.
Liz froze, and suddenly became aware of the sound of an engine approaching them. She turned around to see a vehicle pulling into the station.
9
A terrible explosion woke Jessa up, disoriented and afraid. She didn't know how long she had been asleep, and for a moment she had forgotten all about before. But another explosion shook the windows of her adobe house, and it all came back to her.
It was the end of the world.
Yesterday had been horrific. After seeing the corpses at the Ranger Station, she had made it to Santa Fe in record time, desperate to see another living person.
At first, she only saw more dead bodies. Driving up Old Pecos Trail, there were dead bodies on the sidewalk and in crashed cars. All had the horrible gray skin and smiles like those at the station. She passed the hospital and its silent, still parking lot full of cars. The hospital's entrance had been closed off. A sign hung from the road block with the address of another hospital nearby. The air was smoky and pungent, and she saw a smoldering heap in the distance. Jessa had never smelled burning flesh before, but she figured that the nauseating odor in the air was coming from that heap. They must have been burning bodies.
She turned on Cerrillos Road toward downtown, and that's when it got really bad. There were burning buildings, more dead bodies, and signs of looting. Broken glass was everywhere. She heard screams and gunshots behind her. It was the first sign of life, and it was not a friendly one.
She finally saw people out on the street, but they looked dangerous. Passing by a large shopping center, she saw a confrontation between two groups of four or five people each. They were facing each other and their body language looked aggressive. Some of them were armed.
So this thing hadn't killed everyone. There were other survivors. But not many. And already it seemed as everyone had turned into savages. Her friend Chris had been right, she supposed. He had always said that people weren't going to be singing "Kumbaya" when the shit hit the fan.
She guessed the same thing was happening in other cities across the nation and the world. After all, the virus had hit Asia and Europe first. Things must have gotten really bad while she had been out of civilization for five days.
She picked up her speed and turned down a side street, trying to avoid the larger roads. She stopped at a co-worker's house on the way, knocking on the doors and windows and calling out. There was no answer, and the house was locked up. She had to assume the worst and moved on sadly.
Her cell phone wasn't working, so she couldn't call her friends. But she figured that if anyone she knew was still alive, they had probably made it out of town into a safer area by now.
Jessa felt a little better as she made her way home. Her neighborhood, on the north edge of town, was quiet and deserted. Thankfully, her little adobe house was still standing and intact.
She was planning to grab only a few things and head back into the woods. The world had gone crazy, what was left of it, and she didn't want to stick around and watch it fall at her feet.
The food in the fridge was warm, but she found some hard cheese and bread that were still good. She tore into it as she moved through her house, gathering up supplies.
Her first thing to grab was her pistol – a Glock 22. She put on her holster and carried the firearm at her hip.
Then she packed up some essentials -- more clothes, some dried fruit and nuts. All her wilderness gear was already in the truck. But the food situation was lacking. She'd had to figure that out later, though.
She was suddenly overcome by exhaustion. She tried to push through it, knowing that it wasn't safe to stay at home. But her body felt like lead, and it was all she could do to stumble into the bedroom and fall into her bed. As she drifted off into a deep sleep, her last thought was to wonder if she had caught the virus after all.
The explosions woke her up late the next afternoon. Once she was able to pull herself out of bed and come to her senses, she realized she had been asleep for almost 24 hours. She felt fine, though. No symptom of the virus. Maybe the
exposure to the bug had caused her to sleep so long? Perhaps her body needed the deep rest to fight it off?
Or maybe, she worried, she would develop the symptoms later -- maybe the virus was just incubating since she had been exposed days after everyone else. She had no idea. But either way, she decided, she wanted to leave the city.
The explosions were distant but loud, and she feared it would happen sooner or later in her neighborhood. Her guess was they were caused by gas leaks, but she didn't want to hang around and find out first hand.
She loaded up her gear and climbed into her green Forest Service truck. She didn't think anyone would mind if she took it. If any of her co-workers were alive, that is. She thought of Rick and Cindy, how angry she had felt about them. The drama she had been wrapped up in a few days ago seemed so trivial now. She hoped that they had somehow made it and were safe. Seeing her town decimated had a way of putting old grudges to rest.
"So long," she whispered to her house, taking one last look at her house with the sage brush and lavender growing out front. It had originally been her grandmother's house, and it had been Jessa's home for a long while. She was sad to leave it.
The air was thick with smoke and rot. She wanted to head north out of town, but she needed food desperately.
The neighborhood corner store looked dark and empty, its shelves still full of food. But she couldn't bring herself to break into the store she had shopped at for years. The Cantu family, the owners, had always been so kind to her. Even if they were dead now, it didn't feel right.
Continuing on toward downtown, she found a mini mart with broken glass. Someone had been here before her, but they were gone now. The entire street was silent.
It felt safe. Or about as safe as was possible in this new nightmare world. She grabbed her large, empty backpack, made sure her gun was secure in her holster, and stepped carefully over the broken glass to go inside.
The store was dark, but she could see well enough to get what she needed. Cans and cans of fish, meat, vegetables and fruit. Dried soup mixes, protein powders, trail mix and granola bars. And of course, big handfuls of chocolate bars. She made a trip to the truck to dump it all in the backseat, then she went back to fill up her backpack once more.
She had just made it to the truck with her full backpack and two cases of bottled water in her arms when she heard it.
A shiny new SUV pulled up, stopping just twenty feet from her as she threw her load in her truck. As she watched four young men get out, she debated whether she should pull her gun. Their smiles made them seem safe, so she decided to wait. They leaned against their car, keeping their distance.
"Hey there," the driver said to her. "Are you a sight for sore eyes!"
"Yeah, not many ladies out and about these days," a guy wearing a cowboy hat said. Jessa felt herself tense up a little.
"Well, we ladies have to eat too, you know," Jessa said, trying not to let her voice betray the fear taking her over. "I was out of town for a few days. How long has it been like this?"
"This bad? 'Bout two days."
"Yeah, everybody just seemed to up and die day before yesterday," the cowboy said.
"Looks like just a few of us were the lucky ones," the driver said. "If that ain't something to celebrate, I don't know what is."
She saw his eyes look her up and down, and it made her shudder. Suddenly their smiles didn't seem so harmless.
"You all alone out here, sweetie?" the tall one asked, leaning forward. "Not really safe for a woman to be out her on her own. Ain't no law these days. People just taking whatever they want."
Jessa didn't respond, but stared them down. She didn't like the tone they were speaking in – or the way they were looking at her. She thought about jumping in her truck and driving off, but she was afraid they'd be on top of her before she could lock the doors. Or what if they had guns?
"Yeah, I think she's on her own, Jack," the one with the belly grunted. "If she had a man with her in the store, he'd be out here by her side by now."
"It's really not safe out here for you, baby," the driver said, taking a step forward.
"Yeah, you already said that," Jessa said, disgusted with them. Her heart was racing as she weighed her options.
"Hey, no need to take an attitude, missy," Jack said. "We're here to help you."
“I don't need your help,” she said. “Back off.”
"Just come with us, sweetie, we'll keep you safe from the bad guys." The one in the hat started to walk slowly toward her with his arm outstretched. "Just come with us now, we won't hurt you.”
He smiled at her, and his eyes were dark.
She drew her concealed weapon quickly and aimed at him.
"Stop right there," she said.
His hands went up. "Whoa there, where'd that come from?"
"No need to get your panties in a wad," the driver said. "We're here to help."
"Get back in your car and drive away. Now," Jessa said loudly.
Jack whistled. "Geez, you're sure all worked up. Just relax."
He still had a smile on his face. They all did. It was funny to them. She was little more than prey to these guys.
"Stay where you are, or I'll shoot," Jessa said, her voice rising.
"Oh, come on now, baby, you don't know how to use that thing, do you, sweetie," Jack said. He took another step toward her, his hand out. He was just a few feet away now. "Be a good girl and come on with us."
Her mouth was dry. He was close enough now that she could see the cruelty in his eyes. She knew what they wanted, and she knew what she had to do.
She fired just as Jack lunged and reached toward her, hitting him in his belly. The sound cracked through the quiet neighborhood.
He doubled over, falling to his knees, as his shirt turned bright red. The cowboy froze, his eyes wide.
The other two men looked at the scene for a moment, not making a move. The cowboy backed away toward the SUV, and the three of them jumped in and sped off, tires squealing.
Jessa was shaking, and she struggled to keep her gun trained on the man before her. Jack was mumbling something, but Jessa couldn't hear him very well. Her senses seemed to have changed – she had tunnel vision and her ears were ringing.
With her heart pounding and her breath ragged, she tried to steady her shaking hand. She knew she had to put the man out of his misery. She fired once more and missed, then took a deep breath. She squeezed the trigger and this time hit him, sending him flat on his back where he lay immobile.
She watched him for a moment, backing up to her truck. She holstered the gun, climbed back in her truck and drove off, leaving the horrible scene in the parking lot.
She felt sick, the adrenaline coursing through her veins. The image of that man bleeding on that parking lot would be with her forever, but she'd have to live with that. They were going to hurt her, and killing one of them had been her only option.
She was glad to be alive. She was grateful for her gun, grateful to her dad for having taught her how to use it. She was still alive, still free; not a captive of those men.
“I'm not your baby,” she muttered as she drove through the empty streets.
She promised herself she would be more careful. She had to stay alive.
10
The interstate through Albuquerque was jammed with stopped cars. Nick had to cross the city on the access roads and back roads, and he was losing precious daylight.
He saw a few more survivors here. They were banding together, forming gangs to scavenge what they needed. A lot of them were armed, from the sound of the gunfire all around. Two days was all it had taken for society to fall apart.
And worst of all, he saw the endless piles of corpses. So many lost, and without a burial like he'd given his wife and son. Mother Nature had struck out at humanity without mercy.
Passing by a gas station on the north end of town, some movement caught his eye. His hand went reflexively to his holster, ready to defend himself against any potential threat.
But as he got closer, he saw it was a young woman and a little girl. They appeared to be alone, so he decided to stop and see if they needed help. He knew that they would look like an easy target to any one of the groups he had seen earlier.
They watched, paralyzed with fear, as he turned into the parking lot. Not wanting to scare them, he parked on the far side of the lot, keeping his distance.
"I don't mean any harm," he called, showing his hands out the truck window. "Just wanted to see if you're OK."
He opened the door and stepped outside, standing beside his truck.
"We're fine," the woman called. "Stay over there."
She told the little girl to get in the old truck and lock the doors.
"The name's Nick," he said. "Just drove in from Texas. I'm headed up north of here. Man, things sure got crazy pretty fast, didn't they? All hell broke loose."
The woman crossed her arms across her narrow frame and stared at him, trying to decide if she could trust him.
"Are you traveling alone?" he asked.
"My husband's in the back," she said.
"All right, well, I'll be on my way if you don't need any help."
She watched as he got in his truck and started the engine again. He gave her one last glance as he backed up.
"Wait!" she yelled, waving him over. "Wait!"
He killed the engine again.
"Do you need that help after all?"
She looked at him carefully as he got out of his truck once more. "Maybe. You don't look like a crazy person.”
“Just an ordinary guy trying to get out of here alive,” he smiled. “I couldn't drive past and not stop to help a woman and child.”
She smiled sheepishly and pushed her long, dark hair behind her shoulders. “I just don't know who to trust these days. It sounds like people are shooting each other around the city.” She sighed. “We are traveling alone, and it's pretty scary.”
He nodded and gave a little smile.
“I understand,” he said. “You're right to be cautious. Are you from Albuquerque?”