Tales of the Apocalypse: A Dystopian Anthology

by Publishings, BBB

  “Nate? Are you okay?”

  My eyes open fast. “Nate?” I smart because I haven’t heard Nate’s name spoken since I left the farm. Hearing it now makes it all seem so new again. Besides, how does he know Nate?

  Jonah is looking down at me. “Isn’t that your name? You said it the other night.”

  I don’t remember saying that at all. “Not Nate. Bell.”

  He looks like he wants to ask me who Nate is. I can see it in his searching amber eyes, but he holds off.

  “Bell. Nice to meet you…again.” He smiles. “And this,” he gestures to the guy I know is on the other side of me and who has been silent, “is Simeon. But you can call him Sim.”

  “Simeon is fine,” Simeon corrects.

  There’s something about the way he says it that makes me think we’re alike. That maybe he’s not into making friends lightly, not trusting…anyone.

  I turn to him. “Sure, Simeon. And I’m Isabella.”

  There’s a tiny twitch across his lips. I may have missed it if it wasn’t accentuated by the movement of the scar that runs across them.

  “And Mathus is out keeping watch. You feel better?”

  His simple question sparks in me memories of what things used to be like. When people cared for other people. When people cared about me. Maybe his simple act of compassion would have made me cry, had that part of me not died a long time ago.

  “A bit better.” I’m not hot like I was, and the way I’m feeling is more akin to weakness from lack of food and water. “I could do with a drink.”

  Jonah nods, sits up, and looks behind him. When he turns back he has a red metal flask in his hand that I immediately recognize as mine. It reminds me they have my pack. And my gun.

  I take the flask from him and start to drink.

  I’m not entirely sure how safe I am, even though they’re being nice enough. But if they weren’t any danger to me they’d give me back all of my stuff. Jonah’s eyes haven’t left me, so I meet his gaze after I lower the flask and raise my eyebrows in a “where’s the rest?” way.

  “She wants her things,” he says to Simeon while still watching me.

  Surprised by how intuitive he is, I decide there’s no point drawing out my distrust. “I want my gun.”

  The water has made me feel a little less lightheaded, so I sit up and look from Jonah to Simeon, who’s still lying there like he doesn’t have a care in the world. His eyes narrow. “Who says you’re not going to blow our brains out the moment we give it to you?”

  He’s the type of guy who has notes of arrogance in his tone, which evokes a degree of snarkiness in me. “Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t. Still, it’s mine and I want it back.”

  Jonah laughs openly, a happy sound. Something I haven’t heard for a long time.

  Simeon rolls over and digs into the straw, then throws me my gun. It’s missing the ammunition magazine. I know he’s seen the way I’m looking incredulously at the useless piece of metal, because he shrugs his shoulders. “I’ll give the other bit back once we know we can trust you.”

  “Trust? How do I know I can trust you?”

  “You don’t. But we don’t know you, and there’s no way I’m giving you a loaded gun so I can find out how trustworthy you are.” He stares at me like he’d like to kill me. “Now we’re done talking; we’ve been here looking after you for three days with no food, so if you’re coming with us you need to get up so we can get going.” Simeon doesn’t wait for an answer as he rolls onto his stomach, grabs his hiking pack, and moves on all fours across the straw to the ladder.

  I hear an annoyed grumble from Jonah. “Easy does it, Sim. Give her a bit of time.”

  “I’m not lying around here starving to death while we wait for her.” He reaches the ladder and moves his feet onto a rung. The last thing I see is his eyes glaring at me before he disappears from sight, shouting, “Mathus. We’re moving.”

  “Do you think you can walk?” Jonah’s voice is gentle and light.

  “Ever think I might not want to go with you?” He doesn’t deserve my icy tone, but I’m uncertain. It’s been months since I’ve spent time with other people, and I don’t know if I want to be tied to a group of strangers, especially with Simeon who either doesn’t like me or doesn’t like anyone. Besides, I have a goal and maybe they don’t. Maybe they’re wandering aimlessly, surviving day by day. But until I can get my ammo back, what choice do I have? I need my pistol. I might only have four rounds left, but without a working gun I’ve got little chance of survival if I stumble across someone with the rage. And the other thing to consider is with three more people, our combined efforts might make finding food easier. I haven’t had a proper meal in weeks.

  “Come on,” Jonah coaxes. “I’ll help you down.”

  He’s made a decision for me, and for some reason, right at this moment I don’t have a problem with that. I drink more water before Jonah pulls from behind him my pack and hands it to me. I shoulder it and go to the ladder. Jonah holds onto my arms to steady me as I swing one leg after the other over onto a rung. He guides my hands to make sure I have a tight hold and speaks words of encouragement as I navigate my way down and try not to let my lightheadedness take over. Once my feet touch the dirt of the barn floor, he follows me. By the time he’s at my side, I’m close to falling over from weakness.

  Fishing in his bag, he draws something out. “Here.” He holds out a Hershey’s bar. It’s a weird shape like it’s been melted and reset a thousand times. “Been saving it for a special occasion.”

  My mouth bursts with saliva. The last time I had chocolate was soon after the world started going to shit, a month or two after the lockdown. Since leaving my home, every time I’ve had enough good fortune to come across a house with some food left, I’ve never found any chocolate. And I know from the look of that Hershey’s bar Jonah probably hasn’t either.

  “No, I can’t.” The act of kindness should evoke in me something other than that statement.

  “Course you can. Been a long time since we’ve met anyone friendly on the road. I’d say that makes this a special occasion.” He waves the bar at me. “Go on. You know you want to.”

  And yes, I do.

  I reach out. I intend to take it from him slowly, open it like I’m unwrapping the last chocolate bar in the world—because it might be—then offer him some, more than half, before savoring every bite. Instead, I find myself snatching it from his hand, and the moment after I’ve ripped off the wrapper I’ve shoved half of it in my mouth. The taste is exquisite, better than I ever remember despite its obvious age. It’s sweet, so creamy against my tongue, making my mouth deliciously claggy. I chomp at it and thrust the other half in my mouth before I realize what I’m doing. When I look up at him, mouth full, he laughs.

  “Sorry,” I say as best as I can with my mouth stuffed.

  “You’re welcome.”

  We watch each other as I chew, and though I feel bad about what I’ve done, his amber eyes are bright and his smile wide. “I think watching you eat that was more exciting for me than what eating it probably felt like for you.”

  “You’re only trying to make me feel better.”

  “No. Really. I’m not. But do you feel better?”

  “Yes.” That’s the truth. And it’s not just the chocolate.

  * * *

  The sun is high, so it must be at least midday. Simeon is waiting for us, arms tightly folded across his chest like he’s pissed off. Next to him stands the third of their group. Mathus. He’s younger than Simeon and Jonah—maybe a year or two younger than me—and looks all skin and bone. He doesn’t have any of his companions’ confidence. When I nod at him, he looks at his feet and runs his hand through his short mousy-brown hair. It’s hard to tell because his face is so grubby, but I’m sure he has the same rash across his face as the rest of us.

  It reminds me, once again, they’ve said they’re immune and that I am, too. If that’s the case, does that mean Nate is? I try to think back. Di
d I see the same rash on his face before he left? When did I first notice mine?

  “Let’s go,” Simeon says, and Mathus turns on his heel, heading in what must have been a direction predetermined between the two of them. Despite the state I was in when I arrived at the barn, I can tell where they’re heading isn’t the direction I came from, so I’m happy to follow, at least for the time being. As long as I’m going forward and, I have always hoped, in the same direction Nate went.

  Simeon and Mathus meet each other’s stride heading out in front and following the dirt road lined with oaks, as Jonah and I take up the rear. There’s a bulge at the back of Simeon’s jeans, a gun shoved down his pants, covered by his t-shirt.

  At least one of us has a working gun.

  We walk in silence, and despite my pressing questions about the immunity they claim we have, no conversation is fine with me. Being quiet is better than drawing attention to ourselves, even though coming across strangers has been rare since I left my family’s home. And besides, I’ve probably forgotten how to have proper conversations, given I’ve only had myself to talk to for so long. The chocolate incident is testament to that—any social finesse I had has long gone.

  The trees soon give way to fields on both sides. Once they would have been ploughed and had crops, but now they’re just weeds and grass. At least we have sight of everything around us for miles and there’s nothing and no one.

  A short time later we reach a T-intersection with an asphalt road stretching out to the left and right. Mathus takes out a thick, square piece of paper from his pack and unfolds it. It’s a map.

  “Where are we?” Although I’ve traveled a path I’ve had in my mind, it’s been a long while since I knew exactly where I was.

  “About 150 miles from Rysdon.” Mathus’ voice is deeper than I imagined it would be.

  “Hang on. Did you say Rysdon?” We can’t be that close to Rysdon. I’ve been walking for six months, and our family farm was 250 miles from Rysdon. And I was heading in the opposite direction. Where had I gone wrong? “Fuck.” I say it slowly. “Fuck.” This time louder. I want to punch something, but the only thing to punch is one of the three guys I’m with, and I’m not stupid enough to do that. Instead I throw my pack to the ground and storm off the road into the field. Obscenities fly from my mouth. I scream them so loud each word feels like it’s tearing my throat.

  “Shut up,” Simeon shouts at me.

  I keep screaming.

  Next minute I’m crash tackled to the ground. I know it’s Simeon from his brute strength and the hardness of his muscled body against mine. Even though my impact with the ground makes all the air burst from my lungs, I give as good as I get, fighting against him with all my strength, but I’m no match for him. He pins me to the ground, hissing at me, “Shut up.”

  “Get off me!”

  He moves my arms sharply above my head, pins me by my wrists with one hand, and then clamps his other over my mouth. “I said, shut the fuck up.”

  I open my mouth and bite at his palm, finally connect with one of his fingers and latch on hard. He pulls his hand away, and in the next second it’s become a balled fist coming down toward my face. He only stops millimeters from slamming it into me. Fright and fear silence any other noise I might make, but both Jonah and Mathus are now yelling.

  “Get off her, man.”

  He may not have the rage, but the look in Simeon’s eyes is one that makes me think he’d like to kill me. “Don’t push me. You don’t know the things I’ve done.”

  I bare my teeth at him. “And you have no idea what I’m capable of.” Only I know the depths of my darkness. And Nate.

  There’s a change in the way Simeon looks at me, as though he’s sizing me up, wondering the degrees to which he and I are the same.

  “Sim, get off her.” It’s Mathus. He’s standing over us. “Get off her.” A heartfelt plea.

  Simeon glares. “Next time you shout like that, you’re on your own.”

  He climbs off me and is gone, leaving me to stare up at the clear deep blue sky.

  “Bell, you all right?” I think it’s Jonah speaking to me, but I don’t know and don’t care.

  How can we be so close to Rysdon? How have I gone so wrong?

  * * *

  We spend the night in a wooded area and resort to eating earthworms and bugs after finding nothing better. Each bite is hard to swallow, not because of what’s on the menu. It’s not the first time I’ve had this kind of meal and it won’t be the last, but keeping myself alive right at this moment is a bitter pill to swallow. Since the crossroad, I’ve been unable to pull myself away from thoughts that I’ve fucked up. I don’t know where Nate went, but from the moment I started after him I chose to believe he would head in the direction I had chosen. He would go straight forward until he came across whatever it was he was looking for, and I’d find him there. Until that happened, my path was always one of going forward, never going back—never looking back—and moving away from Rysdon. Now I know I’ve probably been going around in circles for months.

  Jonah tried to talk to me earlier in the day when we sat to have a break, but I was too consumed by my mistake to have any time for him, and so it became them and me, as though I was a spare wheel for a well-oiled machine.

  Mathus watches me and eventually comes over. He stands above me and I can tell he’s waiting for permission to sit down. I nod and he squats.

  “Your arm okay?”

  I look down at the bandage. “It doesn’t hurt.”

  “I’ll take a look at it anyway.” He makes eye contact with me for the first time. Even in the dying light, I can see his eyes are a brilliant blue, like the sky I was looking up at only hours ago.

  He removes the elastic clip and unwinds the bandage before lifting the pieces of gauze to expose my wound. It’s a mess, my flesh ripped, in some places deeply, but there’s no unpleasant smell wafting from it, so it’s not infected.

  “I’ll be back.” Mathus goes to his pack, rummages in it and collects several things. When he returns I can see he’s got a bottle of antiseptic, a fresh bandage, and a few other things. “Probably could do with a wash, but this will do for now.” He pours the antiseptic on my wound, flaring pain up my entire arm. I gasp and he says, “Sorry,” looking me briefly in the eyes before going back to his work. He places fresh gauze onto the wound and covers it with a clean bandage. Then he holds out to me a bottle of pills. “They’re antibiotics. I’ve been giving them to you at night since we found you. You probably don’t remember.”

  I don’t, and for some reason I thought it was Jonah who had tended to me when I was unconscious. “Thank you.”

  He glances over his shoulder back at the other two, who haven’t said a word to me since they decided on this place to rest for the night. “We’ll find them.” I know he’s talking about Nate even though all I’ve done is spoken his name. But he said “them”. I can hear the heaviness in his voice and know it well. He’s looking for someone too, and desperately trying to convince himself they’re alive and can—or want—to be found.

  With a crooked smile, he goes back to Jonah and Simeon.

  I sleep terribly, curled up on the cold leaf-littered ground several feet from where the three of them bed down, and in the morning I decide to apologize to Simeon for what I did the day before, at least to get rid of the tension between us.

  When they stir I get up and brush damp leaves off my clothes before I walk over to them. I offer Jonah a wan smile and turn to Simeon. “Where are you all heading anyway?”

  “Rysdon,” grunts Simeon.

  “Rysdon,” Jonah repeats in a much nicer tone.

  “What’s there?”

  Rysdon is a large town which, last I knew, had little going for it except its new stadium, finished a few months before the virus started being reported on the news.

  “Because that’s where my family is,” Mathus replies.

  Both Jonah and Simeon glance at him, as though I’ve poked somethin
g I should have let alone.

  “That’s right,” Jonah finally says.

  Are they all searching for people like I am? “Is that where your families are too?”

  “Mine are dead,” Simeon replies so matter-of-factly it makes me flinch. “All dead from the rage.” His green eyes catch mine for a moment with that unsettling intensity they have.

  What he says reminds me I haven’t discussed with them this immunity they say we have.

  Before I can bring it up, Jonah adds, “My parents died two years before all this started. Car crash.” Jonah pauses, staring into the distance. “Probably better off they did.” He chuckles but there’s sadness to it. “I became a bit of a loner after that.” Again he chuckles, this time seeming to find actual humor in his thoughts. “The virus was the best thing to happen to me. Made me get out and meet new people.” He gestures at Simeon and Mathus, and both of them huff a laugh. It’s a window into the type of people they maybe were before everything went to shit.

  “So you didn’t know each other beforehand?”

  “No, we didn’t,” Simeon snaps. “Now, shall we stop this what’s-your-story session and get moving? You know, go find some food before we all starve to death.”

  Jonah’s lightness makes me want to joke, say something about Simeon being “hangry”, but I doubt Simeon’s in the mood. Instead I concentrate on what’s important. “Before we go. This immunity…”

  “And your family?” Mathus asks so quietly I hardly hear him.

  “Mine?” I don’t want to answer his question. I don’t want to speak the truth, but they’ve been open with me. The words are hard to assemble into thoughts, let alone say out loud. “My parents? The rage. They…I…” How do I tell them what happened when I can’t even admit it to myself?

  “And Nate?”

  The sound of his name, once again spoken by Jonah, makes my throat tight. “He’s my brother.”

  “Where is he now?” Mathus asks cautiously.

  I can’t tell them the truth. I can’t say I don’t know. I can’t admit that I’ve been aimless in my quest to find him after he left. And I can’t tell them that he left after my parents died because I know they’ll want to know why. And even I don’t want to admit I know why he went.