Eve let out a measured breath and continued her search through the supplies. Too loud, she thought. She should be still and quiet. Surely the runner wasn’t close enough to hear her breathe.
But sound carried in this dead world. Before the outage, Eve had frequently complained about the noise. Now she longed for it so she didn’t have to listen to the sound of buzzing flies and growling dogs fighting over scraps.—
Her fingers groped deeper into the front compartment of the bag. There they met cold metal and she knew immediately what it was. A gun. Bullets, too. She shook her head and smiled grimly, ignoring the churning of her stomach.
She pulled the gun from the compartment and examined it with her glow stick. It was small, but it looked scary enough, at least to her, and probably to most people who lived in their small town.
In their neighborhood, among those who knew about his “other” activities at the camp, Jared had been considered the scary survivalist. He was the one most people greeted with a friendly smile but wary eyes. It seemed laughable now.
Perhaps the presence of the gun would be enough to frighten her follower. Eve ran a finger over the barrel. She wouldn’t even have to load it — just let them see it.
She realized that the footsteps could belong to a neighbor. They could be friendly, helpful even. Her mind filled with random names and faces from the town she lived in: Rachel from book club, the old guy down the road, Cassie’s teacher — what was her name? — or a colleague from the Institute.
No, not one of them. Eve shook her head. Jared would disapprove of this train of thought. It’s you against them. There is no decency in chaos. That’s what he would say after reading one of his doom-mongering books, the ones he called survival guides.
Eve froze. There was a change in the rhythm of footsteps. She thought she heard the sound of someone tripping, of a longer scuff against the ground followed by a heavy thud. Her heartbeat quickened. That thud sounded close. Too close.
A young female voice cried out. Eve lifted the gun and gripped it in both hands, waiting. No more footsteps. No more voices. The only sound outside the culvert came from the rushed breathing of the fallen girl.
There was a sob.
Eve closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall of the ditch. She longed to go out there. She knew Jared would shake his head and grit his teeth. But she wasn’t sure if she could be so cold.
“Help,” came the plaintive cry.
That word. That one, magical word. Oh, Christ, and she sounded just like Cassie! Eve pressed the heel of her hand into her eye socket. Could she ignore another human in peril?
“Help.”
Her mind drifted to thoughts of Cassie lying in bed, sick and afraid. She thought about her own daughter out there in the middle of this catastrophe. Hurt. She got to her feet and slipped the backpack over her shoulders. She wasn’t ready to lose it yet — her humanity.
“Where are you?” she said, not too loud, as she climbed out of the culvert.
“Over here. It’s my ankle. I think I twisted it,” said the girl.
Eve saw a dark shape lying on the ground, not far from the entrance to the culvert. She suspected that the girl had noticed the hiding place in the glow of the Friar’s Lantern and hurried over. They would have met eventually.
“All right, I’m here. But don’t try anything, I have a gun.”
“I won’t,” said the girl. “Thank God you’re here. I saw the green sky and I ran.”
When Eve approached her, she realized that the girl was a teenager, around fifteen, sixteen years old. She was filthy, her blonde hair clumped with dirt and her clothes torn and ill-fitting. Eve frowned as she bent low to examine the girl’s ankle. This amount of neglect came from more than being in squalor since the outage. The girl had been living rough for a long time.
“What’s your name?” Eve asked.
“Ali,” she replied. “Short for Alison. I prefer Ali.”
“Okay, Ali. Can I have a look at your ankle?”
She nodded and angled herself so that Eve had better access to her leg. After a moment’s hesitation, Eve slipped the gun into her pocket.
“It doesn’t seem swollen,” she said, gently pressing her fingers against Ali’s skin. “Are you sure you —”
She sensed the change come over the girl immediately. Ali’s head turned ever so slightly and her body tensed. There was a sound of quiet movement around them. And then someone coughed. Eve reached for her gun, but a click made her stop.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said a man’s voice.
Eve slowly raised her head. Still crouched, she saw three pairs of boots. Beads of sweat formed on her upper lip as she looked higher. Three large men, all of them armed with weapons far more frightening than her small pistol — rifles, automatic weapons — faced her. She lifted herself to her full height and turned around. A man smiled. Even in the dark she could tell that the smile did not meet his eyes. The blood drained from her face and a cold chill lifted the hair on the back of her neck.
“It’s okay, Ali. We’re going to be okay,” Eve said, trying to keep the tremor from her voice.
“Well, I am,” Ali replied. Eve turned in shock. The girl was on her feet and grinning through the dark night. “I don’t know about you, though.”
Chapter Seven
Written by Jenni Merritt
Darkness. Pitch black and so thick Eve could barely breathe. She gasped for air as she tried to reach for her eyes, only to find that her hands were bound tightly behind her back. She shook her head back and forth, attempting to shake off the blindfold that kept her vision from her.
But there was nothing there. She blinked again, realizing the darkness was all around her. Not a dot of light. Just pitch black nothingness.
“Hello?” she whispered. Her voice felt hoarse even though she hadn’t been screaming. She licked her lips and wondered how long it had been since she had last had anything to drink. She couldn’t remember. “Is anyone there?” she croaked.
Something crunched to her left and she instantly scooted away from the noise. Another crunch. Then another. She pressed her back against the cold wall behind her as the sound of footsteps filled the darkness.
Blinding light filled the room and Eve finally screamed, clenching her eyes shut as pain shot through them. Someone chuckled; another someone shushed them. Eve slowly opened her eyes. The light came from a single gas lantern. It wasn’t super bright. But compared to the pitch darkness that had surrounded her just moments before, it felt as if the noonday sun had been let into the room. She blinked and looked up at the faces of those who surrounded her.
Men and women. Dirty, tired looking, clothes torn and faces grim. People like this used to be the ones who lined city streets, powerless unless you threw a penny into their hat. Now she was one of them.
Eve pulled at her arms, feeling the rope binding her cut into her wrists. Who was powerless now?
“What do you want?” she asked. “Who are you?”
A delicate hand reached out and gently tapped the shoulder of the man who stood in front with the lantern. He stepped aside and a young lady stepped forward. She was cleaner than the rest and she smiled down at Eve. Her smile wasn’t inviting or sympathetic. It was the smile of someone who had won. Eve squinted at her, recognition dawning quickly.
“Hey there, Eve,” the girl said, stepping closer. “Comfy?”
“Ali,” Eve said, almost spitting but stopping herself at the last moment. Keep control, she reminded herself. “Why? I was helping you.”
Ali nodded and crouched down so she could look Eve in the eye. “And that was very sweet,” she said with a snide smile. “But you see, you can’t help someone if they don’t need it.”
“What do you want?” Eve demanded. She looked around the room, trying to locate her bag, but it was nowhere to be seen. Panic started to pulse in her veins. The map! She couldn’t lose the map.
Ali stood and nodded to someone behind her. Two men
stepped forward and grabbed Eve under the arms. They hefted her up and started to drag her toward the door. Eve considered fighting, but with the room full of people she wouldn’t stand a chance.
They dragged her through the doorway into another dark room. Another door clicked again then creaked open. They went out into the chilled night air. The area was lit with bonfires. The flames crackled and danced in the dark, casting eerie shadows that bounced off of people and trees.
The men carried Eve past the people who were singing, chatting, slurping drinks, and nibbling on food. Finally they reached a fire that was separate from the rest and let her tumble to the ground. With her hands bound behind her, she couldn't catch herself. Her mouth filled with dirt and grass and she sputtered, rolling to her side so she could gasp for air.
“Be nice,” Ali said, clucking her tongue at the men like a chastising mother. Someone helped Eve sit up then disappeared into the shadows.
A cup was pressed to Eve’s lips. She turned away. “It's just water,” Ali said. “I bet you are thirsty.”
Better judgment told her not to drink it. But Eve’s mouth was dry. It felt like it was filled with cotton. She turned to the cup and sipped at the lukewarm water. Nothing tasted funny about it. Hopefully it stayed that way.
“What do you want?” Eve asked again. “Who are you people?”
“We are just people like you. Just trying to find our place in this world.” Ali’s voice was teasing, lilting, pulling like she was talking to a small child.
“I wasn't hurting you. I was just following the…” She stopped. Who knew how many people had actually seen that light.
Ali leaned forward. The fire lit up her face. Behind the dirt she was a beautiful girl, but her eyes danced with something ugly. “Following what? The light?”
When Eve didn't answer her, she laughed and leaned in even closer. “Yeah, we figured. And that’s what made you such an easy target.” Ali stood and stretched her arms above her head. She smiled down at Eve then started to pace in front of the fire, casual and easy, without a care in the world.
“We are Dark Worshippers, since you asked,” she said. “We embrace life as it is now, free from the technology that had kept us bound. We are primal. We are what Mankind should have remained: dependent on the earth and what she gives us.”
Ali stopped and looked down at Eve, her eyes narrowing. “And we really just do not like those who think otherwise.”
Eve licked her lips. She glanced to the side and noticed something just out of reach. Her bag. The contents were spilled out along the ground, but everything was there, the map’s corner sticking out. Relief flooded through her.
She looked back at Ali, who was smiling again.
“So this light,” Ali continued, “has become the perfect trap. We don’t know what it is or where it is, but we do know people keep flocking to it. And so, here we are.”
“What do you think you can do with me?” Eve asked. “I am no one. Just let me go and —”
“Nope, not happening.” Ali crouched down again, her nose so close that Eve could smell her stale breath. “Here is what we figure: Whoever’s making that light must have tech. And they must be flashing it in the hopes of bringing Mankind back under tech’s power. So we have to stop it. We are following the light too, but not for the same reason you are. We plan to stop it. And you followers of the light gave us a nice little package to barter with.”
Eve wanted to ask who, who were they bargaining with? But Ali suddenly stood, grabbed Eve under the arm, and yanked her to her feet. Despite how small Ali was, the girl was surprisingly strong.
They started to march away from the light, down a hill, Eve stumbling on rocks and twigs as Ali pulled her along. Light appeared once more, just a small jumble of candles perched along a fence.
Just past the fence Eve could make out the shapes of bodies, tons of bodies. Some were curled on the ground, some pacing back and forth in the near dark. Others were pressed against the fence, no doubt watching the two as they approached.
They reached the barrier and stopped so suddenly that Eve fell against Ali with a grunt. Ali turned and smiled sweetly at Eve. The candlelight darkened half of her face and Eve gasped. Ali looked like a demon come from the very dark that surrounded them.
“Tech killed our world. It ravaged our bodies and minds, destroyed our lives, until all we had was screens and antisocial children, and wars waged on the basis that our tech was better than yours. It cannot come back.”
Ali reached over to the fence and unlocked a part of it. A little gate swung open. “The people flashing the light have two options: Destroy it and you all can go free. Refuse, and you all will die.”
With that, she shoved Eve in through the gate and slammed it shut.
Chapter Eight
Written by Megan Thomason
Thoughts of Rourke Mullen filled Jared’s mind as he trudged through a familiar ravine. Was his friend still alive? Would he be waiting for them at the camp?
Rourke, head of research at the Institute of Progress, had first approached Jared at Eve’s company picnic two years prior. Jared was impressed with Rourke’s penchant for preparedness, so he told him all about his Adventure Base Camp. As it happened, Rourke was seeking an outlet for his three teenage sons’ boundless energy, and he thought the ABC Camp might fit the bill. The two men agreed to meet for drinks the following evening, as Rourke had several ideas for taking Jared’s camp to “the next level.” Ideas which involved sharing with Jared secrets that were both exciting and disturbing.
As Jared watched the sun set behind the ridge in the distance, he fiddled with the sole working electronic device remaining in his possession, a very sophisticated two-way radio. It was his connection to Rourke, the Institute…and Eve.
Should I make the call? Can Rourke be trusted?
Those were the million dollar questions and the ones he’d spent the last seventy-two hours contemplating, distracting himself from the pain of the journey.
Jared had always considered Rourke a visionary, his ramblings prophetic. But now? He was positive that Rourke had either made sure his predictions came to pass, or he’d had knowledge of someone else’s plan and wanted to prepare for the inevitable.
It has to be the latter.
Jared had always been a good judge of character. He couldn’t bear to think he’d been wrong about Rourke.
Rourke had smuggled out prototypes of every Institute creation except one, and it was that one that Rourke claimed kept him up at night. It was supposedly a game changer. The one that likely caused all of this, Jared knew. Eve’s creation.
Jared didn’t know the details of the device, just that when used properly, “It would be capable of eliminating any and all threats to national security.” However, in the wrong hands, “It would spell the end of life as we know it.”
Jared could still see the dark circles under Rourke’s eyes, the worry in his brow as he talked about it. If the man faked his concern, then he deserved an Academy Award for the performance.
Jared stopped to catch his breath before attempting to climb the steep hill in front of him. In his mind’s eye, he saw the camp just beyond the ridge, over the stream, and beyond the orange groves. Is it intact? Have the others gathered there? He went through the list of “locals,” counting them off on his fingers. Three at the camp. Thirteen within a twenty mile radius. Upwards of forty within fifty miles.
Cassie snored softly in his ear, asleep in the sling Jared had fashioned for her. Her sickly sweet breath caressed his neck. Sweat dripped down her curls. The fever had returned with a vengeance; she needed medical attention, and soon. Jared’s right-hand man at the camp, Percy, had once been an EMT. He now lived at the camp along with Ed and Wade, two ex-marines. Together, they served as Jared’s staff. Jared needed to get Cassie to Percy without delay, his own rest be damned.
Three days of traveling at full throttle with sixty-five pounds of dead weight hanging off his neck — first through small towns fu
ll of looters and thugs, and then through dense forest — had sapped all his energy. His only rest had come forty-eight hours before, in a dumpster at the edge of a town. The meager water and protein bar rations he’d brought with them had done little to bolster his strength.
Jared rubbed his hand along his jaw, feeling the result of days without a shave. He chuckled at how livid Eve would be. “Scruff is hot, a scraggly beard is not,” she’d say as she handed him his razor. Had she reached the source of the light? Was it a beacon? Could they fix this?
Jared shook his head, disappointed in himself. His job wasn’t to worry about whether the problem was fixed. His job was to assume it couldn’t be fixed and to survive and help others survive.
The temptation to turn on the radio and make the call was strong, but the desire to get Cassie to the camp and help was paramount.
Jared took a swig of water and pressed forward. He wouldn’t need the light of the sun to reach the camp. Every felled branch, tangle of roots, and change of elevation had been seared into his memory long ago. As he walked, he imagined the crickets singing a tune, urging him toward the finish line.
When the camp fence came into view, he found a reserve of energy and made swift progress the final quarter mile. He grabbed for his water bottle to wet his lips and whistle a signal to his men, warning them of his approach. Given the circumstances, he knew they’d be armed and ready for an attack.
He awaited their response for ten, twenty, thirty, then sixty long seconds.
Silence.
Jared repeated his sequence of short and long whistles, but even the crickets stayed quiet.
“Daddy, are we here?” Cassie whispered in a weak voice. Jared lifted her from the sling and set her down at the base of a large tree. He raised his finger to his lips and motioned for her to stay put. She whimpered in protest, but he repeated his hand gestures, letting her know that he was going to see if the camp was safe to enter.
Maybe they’re all holed up in the bunker. Jared and his crew had discovered a shallow network of caves a year prior deep in the camp’s property and had stocked it with equipment and supplies. At most, it could comfortably hold a dozen, but those lucky few could easily live off the supplies for well over a year.
The Catastrophe Theory Page 3