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

by Boyd Craven III

  They eased out onto the country road slowly; Martha’s eyes still watery and made their way back towards the farm. Sandra and Martha were driving the lead truck, leaving Blake to drive the second one, pulling the trailer with Lisa sitting with him for company.

  “Did you guys find the blood pressure medicine?” Lisa asked him, once everyone had settled down in the cab behind them and she could talk easy.

  “Yeah, she had something she found that she said would work. As long as Duncan can remember his dosage.”

  “He still has an empty bottle,” Blake told her, shifting gears as he followed his wife’s lead.

  “That’s a blessing. Do you think it’s getting safer out here now? I haven’t seen anyone since we left the homestead.”

  “I don’t know if I would call it safe, but I imagine with the groups that have been in this area, everyone has their heads down,” he told her.

  “Or they’re all dead,” her voice was just as quiet.

  “Or they’re all dead,” he agreed.

  +++++

  “…what do you mean Charlie and James are dead?” The voice crackled, the static making it hard to hear.

  Weston had his arms folded, and was looking at David menacingly. “Tell them what we said.”

  “Something in the food we stole. Whole camp got sick. I’m the only one who didn’t get it.”

  “How did the whole camp get sick, and you didn’t?”

  “I was on watch, got back after everyone had ate. They’re dead man, they’re all dead.”

  “What about the others?”

  This hadn’t been part of the script. Weston just shrugged and pointed at the radio.

  “I snuck as close as I dared to. Things are quiet there. I didn’t see anyone around.”

  “Do you think they are dead too?”

  David looked at the two men guarding him. If he told the guard unit that they were already dead, they’d want the supplies the homestead had. If he told them that they were alive and healthy, the unit could want to come in guns blazing, to take their wrath out on the homestead.

  “I don’t know. With it being me the only one left alive, I was worried that if they were still around, I’d be captured and compromised.”

  “For a coward, you actually make pretty good sense. Ok then, fall back for now and hole up somewhere. We’ll be around your neck of the woods the next time we are making our sweep towards Greenville, and we’ll pick up you and the equipment I loaned my favorite nephew. Did any of the women survive at least?”

  “Damn it, lie,” Weston hissed.

  “I’m the only one who lived. I left the bodies in an alfalfa field and moved the trucks and supplies back into the tree line. Do you want me to come to you?”

  “No, stay there. The interim governor has us jumping through hoops and we probably can’t swing through for a couple weeks anyways. So stay put.”

  “What am I supposed to do for food?” David asked, an inspired question meant to throw off suspicion.

  “Hunt, maybe mosey over to the homestead and shake your ass. I think that’s what James used Melissa to do, used her as bait to get into some of the fatter targets. You’ll think of something. If you didn’t have some of our hardware stored for us, we’d probably cut you loose.”

  “You wouldn’t dare…”

  “Why not? Charlie is dead. You were always the turd that we scraped off our boots at the end of a long day.”

  “Go to hell.”

  “Have a nice life coward. Maybe we’ll see you soon. Maybe we’ll let you starve, then piss on your corpse. Gerard out.”

  David sat back, his face beaded in sweat. His skin was an alarming shade of red and he was sputtering, wanting to stand and stomp and tear things apart. He did none of those things, the bore of the two pistols the men were holding making him remember his temper.

  “Why do they keep calling you a coward?” Russell asked, one of the slavers victims who’d accompanied Weston.

  “Because I wouldn’t take turns on the women. Because I won’t shoot people in the back.”

  “But you have killed?” Weston asked.

  “Sure, somebody shoots at me, I shoot back. Everyone has killed since the nukes. Thing is, I never executed people. My cousin Charlie on the other hand…”

  “Is that why the women always ridicule you?” Russell asked.

  “Why, because I won’t hit them? It pisses me off, but I’m not gay. I just don’t want a woman who doesn’t come into my bed willingly. I think the women take verbal shots at me, because they know in their hearts I wouldn’t have hurt them.”

  “Then why were you with that group?” Weston questioned him.

  “Protection. My cousin always had connections. It’s how he had his uncle on his wife’s side drop off two crates of weapons for us to ‘guard’. They called it pre-positioning.”

  “Interesting,” Weston mumbled, rubbing his chin.

  Chapter 5 -

  Neal’s Apartment, Ann Arbor Michigan

  The police took their statements, and briefly stopped when some noises were heard outside the apartment. It was somebody from the coroner’s office, panting and out of breath to take care of the bodies. They were using candles for light, which gave Neal an idea and he rose to light some before the stink of blood and cordite could overwhelm him from the open doorway.

  Neal learned there had in fact been more to Patty’s story, and he could understand why she didn’t want to share it. He felt horrible to have heard it, let alone know that a kind woman had to endure the hateful words. One of the survivors had given a statement, and it matched up with what she’d told the police herself. They had done more than question her about her faith… They told her that in their faith, a woman who showed herself the way she had in a dress and her hair flowing free, that the woman was a slut and treated as such. Since none of them had ever bedded a white woman... Taking a woman by force in their country wasn’t looked down upon if it was such a woman.

  The cops had narrowed their eyes at that revelation and kept writing long after she had quit speaking.

  “Does anyone want anything to drink? I know it won’t be cold forever but I’ve got some red wine we could share,” Neal said, standing.

  “I’d rather have a beer, to be honest.” Officer Black said, surprising everyone.

  “I’ll take whatever’s cold.” Officer Keeton said, “Those stairs were murder getting up after the adrenaline wore off.”

  “Beck’s ok?” Neal asked, opening the fridge.

  “Sure.”

  Neal got everyone their drinks, including a glass for Patty and marveled at this. If anyone would have told him a week ago that he’d be having a casual drink with three strangers, two of them cops, another a woman, he would have laughed. Maybe not to their face, but in general. Now? They were discussing the power grid and things were looking grim.

  Both officers had families in the city, and although the event had just happened, the populace of the city was gearing up and things were getting ugly. Both of them were talking about how long the department could hold things together with no communications, no transportation and no way to house and feed the population in the jail.

  “But it just happened!” Neal stated.

  “Somebody had to have known ahead of time. The guys who attacked your door knew something was up. The one was talking about the Great Satan being humbled and this day has been long awaited… A real smug asshole.”

  “Have you heard anything from…? Outside the city?”

  “No, nothing. Everything just quit working while we were in the squad room getting ready for our beat. Hell, we might have finished our shift and I wouldn’t know it.” Black held up a wristwatch that had gone dark.

  “What do we do?” Patty asked.

  “Can you get back into your apartment?”

  “I think so, but I’ll have to look for my keys or have the office get me a spare set.”

  “It’s the middle of the night, you can have the couch if you
want.” Neal said, surprising himself and feeling the effects of the wine.

  “That’s probably a safe bet. Is your door this strong?”

  “No.” Her voice was small in the flickering candle light, making her seem small and vulnerable.

  “I’d take him up on it,” Keeton told her and they rose, their hands outstretched.

  After a long hesitation, Neal stood and took first one and then the other’s hands and shook. When the door closed, he turned and was crushed by Patty who buried her head in his chest again, hugging the air out of his lungs.

  “Patty, I can’t, I mean I don’t think, I-“

  “Yes you can.” She squeezed harder before letting him go.

  “Let’s get some rest, then we’ll look for your keys in the day light.”

  +++++

  They never found her keys, but were able to get a set from the office manager when he awoke. He lived on the bottom floor and had slept through the entire episode with the cops and the gunfire. He didn’t believe Neal and Patty, but followed them upstairs and was horrified at the now brownish stains over the wood work and walls.

  “Oh wow. I’ll uh… Bring a mop up and…”

  Neal opened his door and Patty followed him.

  “Neal, thank you. I won’t bug you but I was wondering…?”

  “Yeah?” He asked, every part of his body wound up tight.

  “Can we be friends? I know so little about you and I think we both need friends right now. Especially now.”

  “Yeah, I think so. Just don’t hug me without warning me.”

  “No touch?” She teased, putting a finger out, almost touching his chest.

  “No, please,” he told her, but a smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  “I’m going to get cleaned up. Maybe I can come over later on and I can cook you something. You saved me Neal, and I appreciate it.” She told him, not wanting to overdo it.

  “It’s ok. I just…”

  She crushed him in a hug and laughed when his whole body tensed, but he didn’t pull away.

  “I’ll knock first.” She slipped out the door and left him alone in his thoughts.

  He decided to do the same thing, having fallen asleep on the couch sitting up near Patty. He took a shower and the hot water lasted for a short while, but the warm went cold and then the pressure started to get bad. Remembering what Shane’s brother told him, he hurried and then shut off the tap and went to the kitchen. He filled glasses, pots, pans and everything that could hold water and lined it up on his counters and dining room table. He straightened up the apartment in general and opened the drapes of his sliding glass door to let in the sunlight.

  Already, the heat of the summer morning had baked the brickwork outside and the temperatures were rising inside. It was still comfortable, but it was going to get warm today. He stepped out on his balcony and smiled as the clean crisp wind kissed his exposed skin. The only thing that could make the moment better for him, was to have his games, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen and part of him was coming to terms that it’d never happen. He tried to focus on the important things… Food, water, safety. Thoughts of Patty kept interrupting him and he almost jumped when he heard knocking at his front door.

  He opened it, and Patty came in. His elderly neighbor Mrs. Simpson stuck her head outside her door and gaped at the dried blood stains.

  “Is everything okay?” She asked, her voice almost a croak.

  “Yes, the police took care of things. Are you ok? Did they hurt you?”

  “No, those creeps stuck their hands in the doorway and I wacked them with this,” she held up a wooden tee ball bat and gave them a crooked smile.

  “They pulled a gun and the cops shot some of them and took the rest away in handcuffs.”

  “I tried calling security, then 911. Everything is dead.”

  “You know, I’ll come over a little later and I’ll fill you in on what I know, Mrs. Simpson, but for now… I have to cook for Neal. I promised him a thank you meal.”

  “Ok, well I’ll see you both later on then.”

  Neal closed the door and stepped back as Patty took an armload of groceries into his kitchen.

  “You have an electric stove,” she said, her voice sounding disappointed.

  “Yeah.”

  “How am I going to cook you dinner on an electric stove?” She sound exasperated.

  “I was hoping to find out myself.”

  “Wait, was that a joke? Did you just make a joke?”

  “Yes, sorry. I was just…”

  He was pelted in the head by a dish rag she’d snatched out of the sink, but she was smiling.

  “I can go get my camp stove. Can you clear me off a space to cook, and then you can tell me why you have water everywhere?”

  “Sure.” He said, watching her go, partially closing the door.

  He cleared off the stove, putting the glasses and pots of water on his end tables by the couch and looked into the bag she’d brought. A box of noodles, a jar of pasta sauce and a half thawed tube of Italian sausage. His stomach rumbled, making him think back to the last meal he had. It had been almost a day ago and the adrenaline of yesterday and last night had masked the feelings of hunger. Now that his stomach was awake, it made no mistake in telling him that it needed to be filled. He searched around for a pot that wasn’t in use and couldn’t find any. He’d probably have to use one to boil the noodles anyways, so he instead looked for a skillet for the meat.

  Patty came back within minutes with a small green Coleman stove and had the meal ready in no time. They ate together silently, and when they were done, he wiped the dishes off with paper towels, not wanting to waste the water.

  “Why are you storing all this water?”

  “Are you losing pressure in your apartment?”

  “Yes, some in the shower. The hot water is out.” She shivered at the thought.

  “Same here too. Shane’s brother told me the water wouldn’t stay on long in the city, to store water. He gave me bleach to purify it when it wouldn’t come out of the taps anymore.”

  “Yeah, that works.”

  “You know about that?”

  “Yeah, I spent some time with the Peace Corps when I was younger. Went all over the world. That’s how I have all my camping gear.”

  “He gave me this stuff too.” Neal said, showing her all the dried goods.

  “Wow, uh, that’s enough to last you a month or longer.”

  “That’s what he said, but I don’t know how to cook most of it.”

  “You boil beans.” She said with a smile.

  “Yeah, but…”

  She leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

  “Thank you Neal. For saving me and for being my friend.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She sat down next to him and waited for him to relax before holding his hand.

  +++++

  It didn’t take two weeks for the water to stop, it took less than one. They had stopped showering after the first week, so they wouldn’t have to lug wash water up from the river and although they had a great protected spot at the top floor of the building… Water weighs in at twelve pounds per gallon and that’s about the minimum they both needed during the hot summer months. To flush the toilet, they needed almost two gallons of water which put them up to a four gallon a day minimum needed for their new city life.

  During the second week, gunfire broke out as they were filling buckets by the river; they abandoned the buckets and ran. They were able to come back later on and retrieve the buckets and the water, but it had been close. From their balconies they could see the smoke starting to rise from various parts of the city. People no longer walked openly in the streets during the daylight, not without mobs of people going after them, or harassing them. Everyone adjusted to a more nocturnal lifestyle, with the darkness making everyone to appear to be equal.

  Officer Black stopped in on his last day of the force. What he had to tell them was disturbing
to say the least. The good people, the families and those who didn’t have an axe to grind, left the ruins of Ann Arbor in masses. Twice, groups of people had kicked in the front doors of businesses and apartment complexes close by to rob, loot and steal at will. The police were out in force, but too little, too late. One officer shot into a mob that was looting. The angry crowd pulled him apart, when he ran out of bullets. Other officers quit showing up for work, to protect their families. When things couldn’t get worse, the city officials that were left made one of the worst decisions that they could have made in Black’s opinion. With no way to house and feed the jail, the order had been given to release the prisoners. Every single one of them.

  “Officer Black, so you’re saying those guys who tried to attack this apartment are now loose?”

  “It’s even worse than that,” he rubbed his head before answering.

  “How can that be worse?” Patty asked.

  “There’s a radical Islamic faction within the prison system. Those two are just the tip of the iceberg. I don’t know if you’ve been keeping up with things… But have you two noticed more fires than usual, gunfire, explosions?”

  “Yeah, I can make out quite a bit from the balcony. I didn’t know about the explosions. We stay inside most of the time. Safer.”

  “Those explosions are rare, but it’s gotten ugly. What makes those prisoners worse is they were just the beginning. We had a tactical nuke blow up over our part of the country by ISIS causing a massive EMP. I don’t know how an open secret like this got past the feds, but all the foreign students to some degree knew it was going to happen along with millions of local radical elements.”

  “That’s a pretty bold statement to make. Is there proof?”

  “How about this for proof. What would you say if I told you that terrorists make up a very small number of folks who practice the Muslim faith.”

  “I could agree with that, from what I’ve read.” Patty said.