The World Hungers: A Post-Apocalyptic Story (The World Burns Book 3)

by Boyd Craven III

  “Thanks,” he said, trying to load his arms up with everything and failing.

  “Hun, you want to watch the three wheeler, or do you want me to?”

  “You help him. It’d be my luck he lives on the top floor.”

  “I do,” Neal said, wondering why.

  “Ouch, sorry Hon.” She smiled and let Jeff off, and then sat back down on it, turning off the motor.

  “This is going to hurt,” Jeff muttered.

  It took two trips, but everything was carried up and put on the small dining room table.

  “I wish I could stay, but I can’t. I really hope you get out of town man. Things aren’t going to be safe after a while.”

  “I’ll be ok.” Neal told him.

  “If you’re sure. Take it easy man. I’ll see you someday I hope.”

  “Say hi to Shane for me.”

  “Will do.”

  Neal shut the door, wondering how much of what he heard from Jeff and Janet that he should believe. He was scared they were correct and had studied the effects of an EMP briefly in his college education on how an event would burn out the electronics in complicated systems. All modern electronics were complicated, so it would fry everything. Mostly a footnote in his education really, but he considered everything he’d seen and heard from Shane’s older brother.

  No Power

  No land lines – Those are self powered

  Cell phones didn’t work

  Cars didn’t run – Modern ones he saw

  Anecdotal evidence suggested Jeff was correct. He didn’t have anywhere to go and if Jeff was right, things could get ugly. With nowhere to go he considered his options. The city had three murders last week alone, one alarmingly close to his apartment, two others in the North end of the city. Muggings and strong arm robberies were common, but as long as you were smart and aware of the situation you could stay out of harm’s way. Being painfully sensitive of being around people, Neal kept an eye on everything and had always crossed the street or avoided groups of people huddled up together, loitering around. He could take care of himself physically, he just didn’t like crowds and the noise associated with them...

  Now, the police were probably in the same boat as everyone else. No radios, no cars, their tasers probably dead and the only thing they had were their guns and batons. Would they continue to work if things got bad, or would they stay home and protect their families? How would they communicate? Ann Arbor long held the distinction of being a rough and tough melting pot of people, but it was what he was used to. It was what he grew up with and it was his home. Now it might become his grave. With nothing else to do and too nervous to go out on his bike, he pulled out one of his favorite books and started to go through it. It showed the old abandoned rail lines that criss-crossed the state. He sometimes walked and hiked them, glorifying in the quiet and serenity.

  He could walk more than a day off of one line without seeing another human being and that was the kind of relaxation his mind needed after living in a city crammed full of noise, fumes and of course, people. He studied the maps, the rail lines and drifted off to sleep as the evening wore on. He dreamed about one of his last trips. He’d tried a new spur and that included going down a used track, leaving his normal route. When the old man stepped out and waved hello, it startled him so badly he’d almost fallen over.

  With a chuckle, the old man hobbled up and offered Neal a hand, regaining his feet.

  “Sorry ‘bout that son. Figured you for another lost kid.”

  “No, I’m not lost. Thanks for helping me up,” Neal said, shouldering his pack and readjusting the weight.

  “Not lost? You don’t look like no hobo like me and my friends.”

  “Hobo? You?”

  “Yeah, lord of the rails, answer to no man but myself.”

  “Is that like being homeless?”

  “Just because I ain’t got no home doesn’t make me homeless son. I got lots of homes. Lots of places to stay.”

  “Oh, well, I’m going to head back now,” Neal said, starting to turn.

  “You don’t like people much, do ya? I can’t say I blame you. That’s why I moved away from the city.”

  Something about that statement struck a chord, and Neal turned around.

  “I’m agoraphobic, people bother me. Big groups of people.”

  “That’s a fancy word for not liking people, isn’t it?” the hobo said, chuckling.

  “Yeah, I suppose so.” A smile tugged at the corner of Neal’s lips.

  “Well, I won’t bother you. You ever want to get away from it all and talk to somebody just like yourself, come find old Hobo Bob.”

  “Okay, maybe I will,” Neal murmured, and headed back towards the direction he had come from.

  He’d run into Bob again. Just last week, he’d ridden his bike out there, and spent a whole twenty minutes talking to the old man. It was progress. It was stepping outside of his comfort zone, and…

  A hard knocking woke him up…

  Chapter 2 -

  The Homestead, Kentucky

  The thrashing between their bodies was what woke Blake up. He sat up, rubbing his eyes in the darkness and a small form wrapped his small arms around him and tear streaked eyes pressed themselves into his chest. Sandra still snored softly in her sleep.

  “Shhhh, was it a bad dream?” He whispered.

  “The bad man. Are you sure he’s gone?”

  “He can’t hurt you, little buddy.”

  “Are you sure?” His voice was small and sounded hopeful in the dark bedroom.

  “I made sure of that. He can’t come here and hurt you.”

  “Promise?”

  “I do. Now, let’s get you back into your bed,” Blake cradled Chris’s small form to his chest as he rose and crossed the room to put the precious bundle onto a custom made rope bed patterned after the ones in the barn’s basement.

  “Are you and Ms. Sandra my new Mommy and Daddy?”

  “If you want us to be,” he told Chris. They’d spent some time discussing this in private and since he asked, he confirmed what they thought. He’d needed safety and stability; something they were more than willing to give to him freely.

  “Ok,” he pulled his blanket over himself and rolled on his side, snoring almost instantly.

  Blake sat on the edge of the bed for a long while trying to see if he was tired or not, and in the end he got up, dressed and headed out of the bedroom, closing the bedroom door. He headed to the kitchen with soft footsteps, mindful of the new tenets sleeping in the basement, not wanting to wake them up with a creak or a heavy tread.

  “You couldn’t sleep either?” Lisa asked him as he entered the kitchen to the smell of coffee.

  Blake looked around, Martha was there too, dark spots under her eyes.

  “Chris had a nightmare. What’s you ladies excuses?”

  Blake sat at the table and accepted an empty cup and the handle of the percolator. He poured himself a cup of the bitter brew and sighed as the hot coffee warmed him.

  “It’s Duncan.” Martha said.

  “Is he ok?” Blake wanted to stand upright by the way the ladies were looking at him.

  “Yes, but not for long. He’s been out of his medication since the lights went out.” Lisa answered.

  “He didn’t say anything…”

  “I doubt he would,” Martha said, “he’s been having chest pains. Ever since the day that Melissa and that boy came up here.”

  “I saw him rubbing his chest and asked him,” Lisa cut in, “and he admitted he’s been out of it.”

  Blake was relieved, somewhat.

  “There’s a ton of herbal remedies I know of for that. Hibiscus, French Lavender, hawthorn-“

  “That may help some, but he needs medication. He’s got a little more severe case than that,” Martha said, “If we can get to my place, my clinic should have some…”

  “Your clinic?” Blake interrupted.

  “Yeah, Martha’s the vet I worked for.” Lisa smi
led at her old friend.

  “My clinic had all kinds of stuff in it that I think the homestead could benefit from.”

  “Well then, when it’s safe…”

  “I don’t know if we can wait that long, but let’s get your herbal stuff going on him. I want him on a low salt diet and he has to eat less-“

  “Lisa, we’re all on a low salt diet; but yes, we’ll talk to Duncan. I’ll get Sandra to sit on him if that’s what it takes.”

  “You tell your wife to work with her ladies squad, I’ll sit on him if needs be,” Lisa said with a straight face and Blake and Martha’s jaws dropped open. “I mean, I’ll make him behave,” she stammered, “I’ll… you two quit looking at me like that!”

  Lisa had turned a furious shade of red and was sputtering. It had been an open secret that Lisa had her hat set for Duncan and had for a while now. Duncan knew, everyone else knew, but Lisa never acknowledged it or talked about it. She would just let her emotions overtake her from time to time and her love for the big preacher would overcome her good senses. They all sat in silence after that, watching the sun rise in the east, and drank their coffee.

  It had been two days since the rescue and folks were just starting to settle down. Weston and Bobby had moved out to the barn’s “Barracks” as everyone started calling it, finding the lack of privacy worthwhile for helping keep the former victims feeling safe and secure. Bobby’s case was more to be closer to Melissa, but that was another one of those open secrets that nobody talked about. Weston was there to help make those folks feel secure. He still looked the part of a police officer and having him around kept the ladies who formed the new ‘squad’ feeling safe and secure. Not enough that they felt comfortable around all men, but Blake and Weston were trusted implicitly.

  It was a strange dynamic that held the victims of the slavers together, a shared horror and victory. The other side benefit of having Weston and Bobby there was to get to know the survivors, feel them out for skills that they could put to better use rather than pulling weeds or keeping a lookout. It had been two long days, much of it spent at a frantic pace. They finished moving the last camper to the homestead. Instead of torching it, they stripped it and parked it by the old grain silo at the back of the property next to the one Duncan had been sleeping in previously.

  The issue of where to store all the firearms had become a problem; especially now with kids on the homestead. In the end, they were hung above reach all around the house, locked in the one bedroom and in the barn’s barracks. All the bulk ammunition was stored in barracks as well, high off the ground on shelves that Bobby had built. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it kept the main stores hidden and safe. Mostly.

  The base unit radio was hooked up in the living room of the main house, so the solar array could charge or run it, and it was kept on constantly. That’s what the ladies and Blake were listening to as the sun rose, and with it, Sandra. It was so silent that they could hear her roll out of bed and make quiet shushing noises to Chris, before she came out and joined up with them.

  “Good morning,” she whispered to them, breaking the silence and kissing Blake on the cheek.

  “Morning,” the three of them chorused.

  “I’m taking the squad out for a quick warm up. Then we’re going to work on-“ she tapered off, looking at the solemn faces staring back at her.

  “What?”

  “Your dad’s out of his medicine.” Blake told her quietly.

  “What?”

  “Martha and I were talking about what I have at her clinic that would work.” Lisa said.

  “Make’s sense. Hon, I’m going to take one of the trucks. You coming with me?”

  “Wait, where are you going?”

  “Change of plans. The squad and I are going to Martha’s. I assume you’re coming as well Martha?”

  “Damn right I am.”

  “Me too.” Lisa stood up.

  “Well, yeah. We can have Duncan and Weston keep everything on track.” Blake said, amused how his wife always took charge of the situation.

  “Yeah, and Bobby and one of the men can sit on David and try to make contact with the guard unit. Dad had some interesting ideas on using some misinformation.”

  “Will David go along with it?” Blake asked.

  “He better or your wife’s ladies only squad will neuter him.”

  Blake chuckled at that and noticed none of the women were amused and cut out the humor that had caught his funny bone.

  “Who’s going to watch Chris?” Sandra asked.

  “I can ask Melissa, her family was helping to take care of him, you know… before.”

  “Sounds good. Let’s take the big trailer, that way we can fit everyone.”

  “Blake, Sandra, if we take the big caged trailer, I’d like to make a side trip.”

  “Where?”

  “To a farm that’s on the way. I noticed that we don’t have any livestock here and if the Anderson’s aren’t there…”

  “What if they are?” Blake asked.

  “They aren’t. The slavers, they-“ she couldn’t finish.

  “Ok, we’ll stop there. Let’s get everyone up, I don’t want to do this in the middle of the day when everyone is going to be out and about.”

  “Amen to that,” Lisa muttered and they all had a quick smile at that.

  “Mom, what’s for breakfast,” Chris padded out in his sleeping outfit, sweats with three layers of socks.

  Sandra’s jaw dropped open and she scooped him up, tears in her eyes.

  “Anything you want, sweetie.”

  Chapter 3 –

  Ann Arbor Michigan – Neal’s Kitchen

  Neal startled awake at the knocks. With his heart pounding he checked the peephole and saw his neighbor Patty banging away at it, sweat or tears pouring down her cheeks.

  “Please Neal, please,” she pleaded, her voice cracking in fear as she looked over her shoulder.

  “Oh alright,” Neal mumbled to himself, taking the security latch, then chain and then undid both deadbolts before opening the door.

  Patty rushed in and closed his door in a hurry, starting to lock it up. Neal stepped back and away from the door, the raw fear she was exuding had him instantly on edge, and he looked around.

  “I need to hide here. Please? I know you don’t know me well, but they’re after me.”

  “Who’s after you?” He told her after a pause.

  “Some of the students. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “What did you do?” He asked her.

  She let out a surprised bark of laughter.

  “Nothing. I’m a girl, I have blonde hair. I don’t know what I did, but they want to hurt me.”

  “I’m having trouble understanding. I just woke up.”

  “I was waiting to see if any of the busses were going to run and waited around. A group of Arabic students saw me and immediately started asking me about my faith, my religion.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anything about their religion. They were really pushy and kept getting in my face about it.”

  “Oh.”

  “When I told them I didn’t really practice any faith, they got angry and told me I needed to convert to Islam. We argued and one of them tried to grab me. I kicked him in the balls and ran. They’ve been chasing me halfway across the south end of the city.”

  “Did they see you come in here?”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t recognize any of them so I don’t think anybody would have a keycard for the front door.”

  “The power is off, the keycard lock wouldn’t work…”

  “Oh shit…”

  Footsteps pounded up the stairs and five dark skinned figures rushed through the hallway, shouting to each other in a language neither of them understood. They began banging on doors screaming in another language and yelling Patty.

  “How do they know your name?”

  “I don’t know.”

 
; “You should hide. The bathroom has a good lock.” Neal told her, more wanting to put some distance between them.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to wait here,” he told her, picking up a broom with a wooden handle that he had leaned by the wall that separated the front door and the kitchen.

  “What if they get in?”

  “They won’t. Now be quiet and go hide.”

  Neal was thankful when she left the room and he put the broom back down and put his eye back to the peep hole looking as the young men ran from door to door and banged on it until the occupants would open the door a crack.

  “Patty, girl, blonde hair. You see?”

  “No, I haven’t seen Patty today. Why are you guys making all this noise? Should I call security?” Old Mrs. Simpson asked from across the hallway.

  “No phones. Patty not here?”

  “For the last time, I haven’t seen her.”

  “She live this floor?”

  “Why do you care? I think I’m going to call security, I don’t know you guys.”

  She tried to slam her door, but two men threw their body weight against the door, reaching their hands inside and screaming incoherent words. Everything was muffled behind the closed door, but it was still audible. An eye looking into the peephole startled Neal, and he jerked his head back from the door as he heard surprised expressions of pain. Somebody else banged on the closed door, and the handle was jiggled.

  Bracing himself and swallowing a big helping of fear, he looked into the peep hole as somebody moved their head away and he could see what looked half a dozen figures surrounding his door now. The knocking and banging intensified until someone drew back and began viciously kicking the door. They didn’t know it, but Neal had researched the construction of the apartments and one of the reasons he felt safe leaving the home he grew up in after his parent’s death was how this building had been put together with safety in mind. His doorway had a steel frame, and steel over wood doors. Nothing short of a battering ram would take it off its hinges and the additions he added…

  Neal grabbed the precut 2x4’s that sat behind the door and placed them over it inside the brackets that were drilled deep into the wood that the steel casing was set into. Heavy lag bolts held things together, and with three 2x4’s bracing the door, even a battering ram would have a hard time getting through one, let alone three. He heard a surprised exclamation and looked out the peephole.