The Pulse Effex Series: Box Set

by L. R. Burkard

  When I closed my eyes, I was back at the house. It had been so wonderful. Like the Steadmans, it still had toilet paper! It was the stupidest things I missed sometimes. The stupidest little things that now were luxuries.

  We moved out before sunset so we could get a good look at the camp if we came across it. Fifteen minutes later, coming down the other side of the hill, we saw a fenced-in industrial complex. Sprinkled liberally on the grounds of the enclosure, as far as we could see, were white tents. Dozens and dozens, maybe a hundred!

  “Here’s your FEMA camp.” Richard said. “Look at the fence.”

  “What about it?”

  “It’s topped by barbed wire. Why would a refugee camp be topped with barbed wire—unless you’re not allowed out?”

  “I want to see more.” Staying at the edge of the woods, only a few feet from the fence line, we moved cautiously along until we neared the end of the building. I wanted to see the tent area, how people were faring. What we were doing felt as scary to me as anything we’d had to do to survive since the pulse. Anyway, now we could see a guardhouse at the main gate and soldiers around it.

  “Whoa—we’re not going here,” Richard said. “This is no camp; it’s a prison.”

  “You know, those soldiers might be there as protection. A camp’s no safer than anywhere else without it. The sign promised PROTECTION, remember?”

  Richard took in a breath. “Sarah, you can believe that if you want to, but I can’t.” He stared at me, considering. “OK. Let’s move back around to the side. Maybe if we circle around we’ll see people at the other end, away from the guards.” We again skirted the edge, going back the way we came, staying behind brush cover. We worked our way around, but in the back had to cross behind the large industrial building. We kept low. The building itself had few windows and didn’t seem very risky to pass.

  When we got close enough, we saw a few people going in or out of the tents. A soldier was making rounds lighting torches that were stuck in the ground—they weren’t very bright. The civilians didn’t look much better than anyone on the road. But they must have been getting enough to live on and they had company! That alone was worth something. We had packs full of food, but eventually it would run out. And then Richard and I would be alone again, and no better off than we were before. We’d still be living like nomads, in a crazy, dangerous world.

  “I’d rather go there and be fenced-in with other people, than out here just the two of us.”

  “You’re willing to sacrifice your freedom for maybe a little security?” Richard frowned.

  I swallowed. “I can’t keep walking, and I’m sick to death of sleeping in barns! I can’t go back to that, Richard!”

  Richard seemed to be thinking it over. He turned to me with a new look on his face. “We’ll wait until someone comes near and speak to them. I’m not letting you go there until I know for sure you’ll be okay.”

  “Aren’t you gonna go with me? You said we stick together.”

  “You’re the one who’s breaking us up, okay? I want to stick together, but I will not trust my life to the government—or whoever’s running this place.” We laid our packs on the grass and sat against them behind the building. It must have been a well-kept lawn in the past—it was still fairly free of weeds. It was a nice change from the woods and fields. Neither one of us meant to, but sitting there, waiting, we fell asleep!

  When I awoke, it was to a strange, repeated sound. A ball. Someone was bouncing a ball! I sat up quickly. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, and it seemed to me now we were in a really open spot. Richard awoke and sat up. He took one look around and said, “We gotta move. This is too open.” Somehow the darkness of night had given us the illusion of having cover. But I peeked around the building and saw a single little girl, the source of the noise. She was bouncing a ball which needed air and didn’t have much bounce to it.

  Behind her I saw an open tent with a cot. There was a pile of clothing and maybe a blanket on it. To the side of the camp stood a row of portable toilets. The little girl looked up at me. I instinctively drew back. She threw her ball hard at the fence. When it bounced off she walked over, picked it up and threw it at the fence again, each time coming closer.

  “She knows I’m here,” I said. “Stay back.”

  “Sarah, don’t—!”

  But it was too late. I darted out from behind the building, nodded at the girl and waved her towards me. She stood watching me with large eyes. As I drew up to the fence, I fell on my knees and peered at her.

  “Hi,” I said. “I’m Sarah. Who are you?”

  “Madeline.”

  “Madeline, are you with your family here?”

  “My father,” she said, unsmilingly. “My mama’s in heaven.”

  “I’m sorry! My mama’s in heaven too.”

  She stepped closer.

  “Do you like living in there?”

  She stared at me. No answer.

  “I’m thinking about living in there. Is it a good place to live?”

  Her eyes widened, filling slowly with fear. “Run away!” she said, “Run away before they catch you!”

  “But they’re feeding you and taking care of you and your father, right?”

  A tear erupted from one eye and was now making a tiny trail down her cheek. “Don’t come here!” She turned around, looking to make sure we were alone and then turned back to me. The look on her face was one I won’t soon forget; like she was haunted. “Run away or they’ll catch you! HIDE!”

  I hurried back behind the building. Richard was ready to go and held out my pack.

  I looked at him to speak but he said, “I heard. C’mon.”

  My hopes were dashed. We hurried back to tree cover, moving into it until we felt safe. But the woods didn’t last. Soon we were facing wide, empty fields and it was broad daylight.

  “We’ll follow the road,” Richard decided. “At least it has some trees and brush on either side. If the trucks come, we’ll hear them.”

  A day later my feet were dragging and it wasn’t because of hunger. For the first time we were on the road with plenty to eat. But my heart wasn’t in it—the traveling, the hiding, the fear. The night before we’d had a close call with a large group of people who were coming from the opposite direction on the road. Fortunately their noise was enough to give us time to hide but we’d been forced to drop into dense brush, cramped and uncomfortable and I got bit up by mosquitoes.

  Then I’d been walking with Richard all day. He said any time now we’d be entering Indiana. That gave me small comfort. I expected it to be no different than Ohio—only my dad might be there. It’s what kept me moving

  We started seeing a scattering of mailboxes along the road now; but the driveways went sharply uphill and veered off behind brush and trees. We wondered if there were houses that might be uninhabited up those drives but we were too tired to risk an encounter. We were too tired to stay off the road, too. It was too much darn work to walk through the woods all the time or even fields.

  We came to an off-road trail wide enough for a small truck. The grass was growing high. “This is the right direction and it’ll get us off the road,” Richard said. Further down we saw a rusty sign hanging from an old, fence.

  PRIVATE PROPERTY. KEEP OUT.

  “It’s just gonna lead to somebody’s house. Let’s turn around and find another route that’s not private property,” I said.

  “Sarah, we’ve been traveling on private property since we left the roads.”

  “Yeah, but they don’t usually have signs.”

  “It’s old. Don’t worry about it,” he said. We continued walking. And came to another sign. PRIVATE PROPERTY. TURN BACK. AREA PATROLLED.

  “Forget this!” I said. “It’s hard enough avoiding people who don’t announce their presence; these people are warning us!”

  Richard was staring at the sign but he pulled out his compass. “This is due west. And that’s where we’re headed.”

  I
sighed. I was used to Richard following his compass like a bloodhound after a varmint. He was adamant about following that compass. It was another little item we’d gotten shortly after leaving our hometown in an episode I wished I could forget. I don’t think I ever will.

  We’d come upon a small tent in a clearing. The fire had died out and there wasn’t a sound to be heard. It took us some time to decide to approach. But we were so hungry and tired we were willing to risk danger to see if there was anything in the tent we could use. Richard approached it slowly and carefully, finally deciding it was probably empty. Only it wasn’t empty. There was a dead guy in it! When Richard discovered he wasn’t alive, it didn’t even horrify me. That’s how skewed this pulse has left me. Dead people were just, like, everywhere.

  Anyway this guy was military—or he looked like it. Full camo, head to toe. And such gear! We couldn’t believe no one else had taken his stuff already. We wondered why not—and then Richard noticed something eerie. He was checking the guy’s pockets—not something I liked to see but he said “You never know,” and found out the body wasn’t stiff yet. He’d only just died!

  Richard’s gun came from that man; it was on the floor next to him as if he’d been holding it until the end. The thermal tee shirt I live in beneath my clothes came from him. And Richard’s military issue pack, his boots, coat, watch, and compass, too. But the most important thing we got was iodide pills. We’d only been on the road for a week then, but we were out of clean water. Richard still talks about how good the compass is, how it isn’t a cheap fake—but I think the iodide pills were the real catch.

  Empty insulin containers on the ground told us why he’d died, poor guy. I like to think he’s in heaven and glad we have his stuff. I feel no ‘ugh’ factor for using a dead man’s things—we don’t have the luxury of getting grossed out—but I do hate to remember the episode. It’s sick how he died for no good reason!

  So anyway, we followed the compass. Before long we came upon another sign. “KEEP GOING AT YOUR OWN RISK. INTRUDERS WILL BE PROSECUTED.”

  Richard snorted. “Prosecuted, huh? By who, Superman?”

  We kept going. I felt increasingly uneasy. We saw no further signs for fifteen minutes. But suddenly we came upon another and it looked newer. This one really scared me.

  “PRIVATE PROPERTY. TRESPASSERS SHOT ON SIGHT.”

  “That does it! These people are serious! I don’t want to get shot!”

  “Look, we’re in the middle of nowhere,” Richard said. “There’s no surveillance equipment right now, we’re not hurting anything and we’re just passing through. Besides, we’re armed too.”

  “Richard, it says ‘shot on sight.’ With this moon they can see us the same way we can read their stupid signs!”

  Richard sighed and suddenly looked behind me with interest.

  “What is it?” I turned in a panic but he’d started walking over to a bush and was now picking away at it.

  “Wild blackberries. I didn’t know they could ripen this early but they’re good. C’mon, eat.”

  “If we get caught eating their berries, they’ll definitely kill us on sight,” I said, but I was also intrigued at the thought of fresh berries. I tasted one. Soon we were picking away regardless of the scratches accumulating on our hands and faces. The berries tasted wonderful and fresh food was practically nonexistent.

  We ate as many as we could. I took off the knit cap Martha had given me and filled it with more for later. I needed that cap at night; it got damp and cold even now, though it was June, according to Richard’s military watch. But the berries were that good.

  “We need to stop for the night. I’m too tired, Richard.” At the house we’d grown used to sleeping at night again. I wasn’t able to walk all night like I’d done for weeks.

  “All right. I’m looking for a good spot.” We walked on while Richard looked around for a place to camp. We’d seen nothing like an old barn or shed on this property. Meanwhile, I kept dreading the appearance of another sign or worse, a human being. We came to a wider opening of the trail. And another sign.

  YOU’VE BEEN WARNED. YOU ARE NOW FAIR GAME.

  I gasped. “I’m turning around! I’m not going any further!”

  Richard grabbed my arm, his face creased in thought.

  “I think we’re okay,” he said, finally. “I think whoever this is, it’s a bluff. If he was serious, he wouldn’t bother with so many warnings. It’s like, overkill.”

  “You’re only guessing! You could be wrong!” I was hissing at him, trying to keep my voice down in case the psycho property owner was around.

  “I have a gut feeling about these things, okay? Trust me.”

  He turned to move on. I had no choice but to go with him. We were heading towards a ravine. We’d found that staying as close to the water as possible was safer, more out of sight. Homes weren’t built right on the water. And even though lots of people were now forced to get water from the nearest river, they were usually empty at night. Anyway, Richard was about a foot ahead of me when all of a sudden he cried “Ah!”—and disappeared!

  “Richard!”

  “Up here!”

  I looked up. He was helplessly hanging by one leg, caught in a trap of some kind upside down, swinging slightly. Hanging there in the moonlight he reminded me of a sick Halloween decoration, like an effigy, only this was my brother!

  “Don’t move, Sarah!” he said. “There could be another trap.”

  “Great gut feeling,” I muttered. He was struggling to grab hold of the rope that held him when suddenly his rifle fell to the ground, not far from where I stood.

  “Good thing it wasn’t cocked,” Richard said. It took me a few seconds to get that he meant he might have just shot my head off. He let out an exclamation as his backpack landed with a thud on the ground.

  I did not want to end up like Richard, hanging upside down. I was sure if I hung that way I’d burst a blood vessel—or maybe all my blood vessels. I wouldn’t even do hand-stands in gym because I’ve always hated the sensation of being upside down that much.

  I looked warily about me. “I don’t see anything!” I called.

  “Use your arms and feel around the area. If you don’t feel a tug or a rope or anything, you’re okay.” I did as he said, swinging my arms around me as far as I could in every direction, turning to make sure I didn’t miss a spot of my perimeter.

  “I don’t feel anything,” I said.

  “Hang on,” Richard said. “I have a knife in my sock. If I can reach it”—I heard him grunting with the effort—”I’m gonna cut myself loose.”

  “Don’t! You’ll fall on your head!”

  “Put something under me. But be careful! Keep your arms out as you move. If you feel anything jump away immediately!”

  “I could put our packs under you.”

  “Not mine! It’s full of hard stuff!” It was true. Richard carried the single metal pot we sometimes cooked with, a small shovel, an axe, a handsaw, and other utensils and tools that came in handy. I hurriedly pulled off my own pack and placed it where I thought he’d fall. I carried our extra clothing, solar blankets and things like that but with all the food we’d stuffed it with, mine was about as solid and unyielding as his.

  In the moonlight Richard’s face looked swollen—he must have been very red though I couldn’t make out his color. I felt awfully sorry for him.

  I had no idea what else I could possibly find outdoors in the middle of nowhere for him to fall on but I saw a pile of leaves and headed towards them. I’d pile them over my pack to cushion his fall. Meanwhile, my heart was pounding. I expected any minute to be confronted by the crazed person who had warned us not to trespass on his property.

  Deep woods like these sometimes housed old-timers, rednecks to the ultimate degree who wouldn’t think twice about killing something on their property—human or otherwise. It made me crazy to think I was now alone and helpless with my brother suspended in the air. I hurried to the pile of leaves—an
d suddenly—Ah! I felt myself sliding!

  “Ooooooooohh!” My voice rose as I kept sliding, and then I was falling. With an anguished cry, I hit the dirt hard. It was a deep pit!

  “Sarah!”

  “Sarah?” Richard’s frantic shout reached me but I could hardly speak for a moment as I wiped dirt and wet leaves from my face.

  “I’m here!”

  “I saw what happened,” he said, his voice tight. He was probably thinking what an idiot sister he had. When he needed help, all I could do was get myself into a helpless spot too. “Wait—I’ve just about cut through this rope.”

  I heard a big thump. Then silence.

  “Richard?” No answer. “Richard!”

  I was terrified that he’d cut himself down and was now dead on the ground! He’d probably broken his neck when he fell! Or at least knocked himself out. I had come to my feet but I fell to the ground, put my head on my knees and cried. The hole was far deeper than I was tall. I knew I couldn’t get out and I was sure Richard was injured or dead.

  I tried to cry but tears wouldn’t come. Maybe I was too dehydrated, even though we’d drunk water back at the house. But I’d had it! I was ready to crawl up into a fetal position and just stay there until I died. Faintly I heard a dog barking and shuddered. What if that dog was barking because of us? How far could a dog hear, anyway?

  But then I heard a low groan. Richard wasn’t dead! I started calling him again.

  “Quiet!” I could hear the pain in his voice. I made myself shut up. He’d get to me as soon as he could. In the meantime, I took out the little leather Bible I’d gotten from the library. Its home was the pocket of my coat. It was all I had with me since my pack was up there on the ground. I desperately wanted to read something comforting but despite the huge moon, I couldn’t see the print well enough. I heard noises above me coming closer. I came to my feet. It sounded like something dragging. Suddenly Richard’s head popped over the side of the ditch and he looked down at me. I could only see his outline against the moonlit sky but I knew it was him.