Dark New World (Book 1): Dark New World

by Henry G. Foster

  The other woman’s eyes narrowed at Cassy, and one side of her mouth rose in a snarl. “I’m Terry,” she said with no hint of friendliness. “Thanks for saving Kaitlyn, but that’s not my daughter. You don’t get to take food out of my own kid’s mouth. Understand me, Cassy?”

  Cassy let out a deep breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding, and let her shoulders visibly slump. “I got it. I have kids too, and sure wouldn’t like anyone to take their food. I’ll eat what’s offered, but then I’m moving on. You have my word.”

  Terry smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Well then. Enjoy your visit. And Frank? Keep it in your pants.” She turned and walked briskly back into the tent.

  “Damn. Sorry about her, Cassy. We lost a child a year back, things haven’t been the same between us since. But Terry’s a good woman. Not that you’d know it from what you just saw.”

  Cassy forced a chuckle and a smile. “I’m sorry to hear about your loss. I can’t imagine how I’d be if I lost my kids. I won’t take what she said personally.”

  Frank opened his mouth, and then snapped it shut. Opened it again, and snapped it shut. Cassy just sat quietly, enjoying water and a bite to eat as it was brought to her. She figured he’d either say what was on his mind, or bring up something light if he decided to talk about something else.

  Finally, he said, “We’ve had a problem or two with other people. That’s another reason Amber’s so protective of her girl, and why my wife is all put out about you.” He then looked at Cassy and raised one eyebrow, expectantly.

  Cassy nodded somberly and replied, “Oh? What sort of trouble?”

  “Well, with all the cops more or less out of commission right now, we had a couple times people stumbled by and found one or two of us alone. By a couple, I mean two times. The first time, three men tried to grab Amber and Kaity, but we heard the ruckus and got to them right quick with our guns out. We didn’t have to shoot ‘em, though. They saw the guns and bounced out. The second time we were carryin’ all this stuff in trips from the road. Me and Jed came back to the car and found four guys who looked pretty thuggish going through our stuff. That time we had to fire a shot, but just a warning shot you see. They didn’t run, but they did leave, yelling threats.”

  “Wow. And that was all just after the lights went out, huh?”

  “Yes. Listen, Cassy... You seem like a right and decent person. You saved Kaitlyn, and I’m grateful. But a woman traveling alone, especially one as pretty as you... Well, you might draw the wrong type. It’s going to get you into trouble you don’t deserve.”

  Cassy watched Frank’s eyes the whole time. Not once did they slide over her body the way almost all men did, consciously or not. He was a good man, she had thought in the beginning, and now she was sure of it.

  “Frank, I like you. I appreciate the concern. And I think your wife lucked out—you’re easy on the eyes, yourself. More importantly, you got a good bunch of people here. Even Terry, though she was pretty rude, well she’s scared for her family. I don’t blame her. I’m scared for my daughter, too. So... I got a proposition for you.”

  Frank waggled his eyebrows at her, lips turned up into a smirk.

  “No, not that kind of proposition,” Cassy giggled. “But seriously. I have a house up by way of Lancaster. It’s in pretty rural territory, far enough from the city that mobs of starving people won’t be too much of an issue. And I have years of food laid up. I have a HAM radio and guns—and the radio was in a faraday cage, so whatever turned out all the lights won’t have fried it.”

  Frank interrupted, “What’s a faraday cage?”

  Cassy smiled, and decided these people needed her help, and she theirs, if she could just convince them. “Well, you know how your microwave doesn’t fry everything near it? That’s because of a mesh that completely encloses it—you can see some of that mesh in the front glass if you look closely, right? Okay, well a faraday cage is basically the same thing, but instead of keeping energy inside, it blocks any energy coming in from the outside. Same technology, but it doesn’t have to be as complex as a microwave.”

  “Got it. That’s a 10-dollar answer to a 2-dollar question, miss, but it sounds like you know your stuff. You weren’t one of those people on that ‘Apocalypse Preppers’ show, were you?”

  “Doomsday, not Apocalypse, and no. I just wanted to be ready for emergencies like hurricanes, riots, whatever. That stuff does happen, you know. Ask anyone in New Orleans a few years ago. Anyway, I’m getting off track.”

  Frank eyed Cassy, not exactly warily, but definitely revising his opinion of her, Cassy thought. Hopefully for the better.

  “Anyway it turns out to be a lucky thing, my getting ready like that. I have enough food there to take your whole group in, and keep little bellies full for at least a year or two with all of you and my family. And you said it yourself, going there alone is going to get rough for a lone female of my obvious grace and beauty,” she said dramatically flipping her hair over her shoulder.

  Frank chuckled. “Stop that, I reckon you aren’t one of those fancy types. You have a good head on your shoulders. And I hear what you’re asking. I’d have to ask the others, but I think I can tell you what most of us will say. And that’s a polite ‘no thank you’. We’re all pretty set on cruising the woods between here and Philly, to be close when rescue comes. I figure they’ll get to Philly real quick, because it’s so big.”

  Cassy’s heart sank. Their choice would leave them hungry and in danger, but that was their own decision. She felt truly bad for the little kids though.

  “Well, talk to them and see. But I’m heading out in half an hour or so. I can make good time now that I’m rested and hydrated. Frank, I want you to know your group is welcome at my house, if you change your mind down the road...”

  Cassy then told Frank in detail how to get to her homestead, without writing it down for him. It occurred to her that a map might find its way into the wrong hands. Frank thanked her, and the group spared two water bottles and stuffed her cargo pockets with food and snacks before she went. Cassy decided to eat as little of it as possible, instead foraging for the rampant wild food growing everywhere. Leafy purslane, easy-open Hickory nuts, and black elderberries were all in season, and grew everywhere.

  Cassy felt bad about taking their offered food—they would need it themselves soon enough. But she would need it too, and the world would be a very different place tomorrow when the stores were fully barren and the hungry times began. In the end, she cared more about reaching her children than she did about this group. The thought left her feeling dirty, and she quickly stuffed those feelings in a box deep inside herself, right next to the box for her friend Tyrel, and for James, whom she had probably killed. Time enough for guilt and sorrow when her family was safe, damn it.

  - 13 -

  1230 HOURS - ZERO DAY +2

  MANDY STOOD IN front of her open cupboards, just staring. She wore a blank expression, but her thoughts churned. The cupboards were nearly bare. The frozen food was gone, and the stuff in the fridge was long gone or already bad. Dinner tonight would be PB&J sandwiches with instant Tang for drinks. Tomorrow the last of the eggs and muffins would be all that was left, and after that...

  She shook her head, clearing her mind of the thoughts. Do something else, she told herself. Maybe a neighbor could spare some food. Yeah, right. “Okay, kids, stay inside while Grandma goes outside to look around, okay?”

  The kids were playing Go Fish, and their only reply was a grunt of acknowledgement, in unison. That made Mandy smile. The kids were so alike in some ways, yet so different in others.

  Mandy unlocked the door and stepped outside onto her front porch, and looked around. The neighborhood was silent. Middle-of-the-woods silent. She saw no one anywhere, and for a moment thought perhaps she and the kids were the last people on earth. What a sad idea, she mused, then walked towards a neighbor’s house. Not the guy who threw the tire iron—she was afraid of him—but to the other side was an
elderly couple who had always been friendly with Mandy, and always had treats for Mandy’s grandkids. Nice people.

  She knocked on the door politely. No answer. She waited a moment and then knocked harder. From behind the door she heard a noise, loud and metallic. She’d seen enough movies to recognize a shotgun being racked.

  “Get away, Amanda,” came the gravelly old voice of Mr. Pease. She heard Mrs. Pease, too, sternly telling her husband not to shoot that nice lady. He snarled at his wife, “I won’t, unless she tries to come in. Dammit, woman, get out of the way.”

  Mandy steeled herself and said in a loud, clear voice that was as relaxed and friendly as she could manage, “Mr. Pease, I’m not coming in, I promise. I’m too old for all that nonsense, you miserable goat!”

  From behind the door she heard the man laugh. He and Mandy had always shared a sort of gruff humor, and Mrs. Pease was forever telling her husband to be nicer, not understanding the banter for what it was.

  “Okay, then I guess I won’t shoot you,” he retorted. More seriously, he asked, “What do you want, Amanda?”

  “I have my grandkids, you know, and they’re awful hungry and getting hungrier. I was wondering if you had some soup, or bread. Anything you could spare, really. Cassy should be here soon, but until then we’re short on edibles. I only have those brownies you made me last week. I don’t think they’ll ever go bad, but then again, they don’t qualify as food!”

  Mr. Pease replied with no humor in his voice, only regret. “I’m sorry, Mandy. We don’t have enough for ourselves. I’ve nothing to give you. I would if I could, you know that right?”

  Mandy heard the regret in the old man’s voice and sighed. “Alright, old man. I understand, truly. Please don’t feel bad. I’m sure we’ll figure something out. You and Mrs. Pease just hang in there, okay? If you need help with anything, let me know. Anything but food, that is. Right?”

  Those poor nice neighbors would be dead soon if the lights didn’t come back on, she knew. She walked away feeling sorrow for them—and more afraid for her own family than she had been before. Hungry times were coming for everyone...

  - 14 -

  2200 HOURS - ZERO DAY +2

  MANDY LOOKED AROUND her living room. Brianna lay on the couch, half awake, while Aidan was barely asleep on the loveseat. Mandy sat in the recliner, a blanket over her lap. The .38 revolver was on her lap too, under the blanket. The kids were exhausted from having too little food to keep up their usual frantic pace, but they were having difficulty sleeping nonetheless.

  That was because, about an hour ago, they’d heard the first scream, followed by a loud bang. Seemingly at random after that, they heard more screams here and there from nearby houses. That was the reason she’d put the kids in the living room with her—so she could keep an eye on them. Mandy was afraid, but tried not to show it to the kids. People were hungry and thirsty out there, and already they had started in on one another, taking matters into their own hands.

  Brianna, who had been lying half awake, sat bolt upright, eyes wide with fear. “Grandma, I heard something outside,” she whispered, voice raw with fear.

  It made Mandy sad to hear that fear in her voice, but it made her afraid, too. Was someone outside, looking for a way in? Her mind raced, thinking on whether she’d locked all the doors and windows, despite having checked them twenty times or more that night. “Wake your brother,” she whispered back, “and if anything should happen you take him and run out the back to the toolshed, understand?” She tried to keep the fear from her voice, and failed.

  Bang, bang, bang. Someone pounded hard on the front door. As Brianna squealed in panic, Mandy’s hand slid to the revolver on her lap, and suddenly the only thing she could hear was the pounding of her heart in her ears. She froze, unsure what to do. She had no experience or training for this sort of thing. She noted in confusion that she couldn’t see well, like her vision had narrowed to almost pin-point focus. She didn’t see Brianna dragging Aidan out of bed. She only saw the front door. Everything else was blacked out.

  There was a terrible boom, and the door handle seemed to disintegrate. The front door creaked slowly open as Mandy drew the pistol from under the blanket.

  - 15 -

  2200 HOURS - ZERO DAY +2

  BITS OF DOOR handle skittered across the floor and came to rest, as the door creaked open, followed by a terrible silence. Grandma Mandy held the small .38 revolver in both hands and aimed it at the door, but her hands shook as her brain reeled and tried to catch up. She had no experience dealing with the kind of raw terror that now pumped adrenaline through her.

  As the door swung open, Mandy saw a tall man in the doorway, but she couldn’t register any details about him—her mind focused solely on the sledgehammer in his hands. As he stepped through the doorway, Aidan and Brianna screaming and running barely registered in her mind.

  The man stopped moving, however, transfixed by the pistol pointed at his chest. Finally he broke the silence, saying, “Why don’t you put that down, lady? I only wanted some food, and I thought this house was empty like the others.” He shifted his grip on the maul in his hands, but otherwise looked calm. His voice was steady as he spoke.

  Mandy struggled to make sense of his words. They sounded like English, but it took a few seconds to penetrate as her mind re-engaged itself. Her food, he wanted her food, the kids’ food. “Go away,” she said sternly as the fear began to slip away, replaced by anger. “We don’t have any food, either, and as you can see the house isn’t empty. This is my house and you aren’t welcome here.”

  “Listen, lady, I’m not here to hurt you. It’s just that most of the people around you are gone, and I’m trying to find something to feed my kids. Blake and John, they’re three and five, and they’re hungry. You got kids, you know. Can’t you share just a little bit? I need something for them, not for me. I’ll go without. Please...”

  Mandy hesitated. She wanted to help the guy, and it would be the Christian thing to do, but who knew how long it would take Cassy to get here? Who knew when there would be more food?

  Her thoughts were interrupted when Aidan’s voice sounded behind her. “Grandma, can’t we help him just a little?” His voice cracked as he said it and he struggled not to cry.

  “I want to help you, mister, but I have two kids here who are hungry. I’m sorry, and I’ll pray for you. We’ll all pray for you and your family. But that’s the only help I can give you.” Although she still held the pistol, she allowed the barrel to drop. She didn’t want to shoot anyone, after all. Please God, she prayed, let this man leave in peace.

  The man frowned. He looked down at his feet, body tense, but then relaxed his shoulders and looked up at Mandy. “God bless you for the prayers, Ma’am. I’ll take what I can get. But be careful, you got kids to think about and some of the folks going house to house don’t much mind if there’s people in them. They aren’t all taking “no” for an answer. Okay? The next guy at your door might not be the God-fearing sort.” The man slung the giant hammer over his shoulder, turned, and left.

  Mandy sat with a knot of fear in her stomach as the man’s words bounced around in her head. “New plan, kids. Grab blankets and all the food we have left, and get into the back bedroom. Aidan, find me a hammer and some nails in the kitchen, would you dearie?”

  - 16 -

  0600 HOURS - ZERO DAY +3

  CASSY STRETCHED AS the sun came up. She had slept better than the previous night, as following the stream kept her in woodlands that offered a lot of materials to set up a small fire and a lean-to shelter. It had taken a little longer to set up than it had during practice because the only tool she had was her folding knife, which made it laborious to strip bark and heartwood for cordage and tinder. She was pleased with the results anyway. Damn, paying attention in that class had been a real good idea, she mused.

  The downside to following the only source of fresh water was that she’d gotten lost. She knew in a general way what direction she had to go, but her
e there were no street signs, no clear view of what lay ahead. The ground undulated, trees blocked everything beyond a few feet, the stream meandered. In nature there are no straight lines, she laughed, remembering the words of her woodcraft instructor.

  Cassy refilled her plastic water bottles in the stream and laid them on the rocks in the sunlight. She’d heard this would at least kill any bacteria in the water, which looked clear enough. She knew, though, that any body of water could have some nasty little bugs in it, even if it looked sweet and pure.

  While the water slowly heated in the bottles, she went around the perimeter of her camp, some 20 yards out, and checked the simple deadfalls and snares she’d set up with twigs, rocks and rough bark cordage. Most were still untouched, so she triggered them and moved on to the next. One snare was gone. She again cursed Jaz for taking her backpack with all the fine paracord in it; the bark “twine” just hadn’t been strong enough for whatever critter got snagged. But the last trap, a simple figure-4 deadfall, held a surprise. A rabbit lay under the deadwood weight, crushed to death. Cassy whooped with joy and her growling stomach leaped with anticipation as she thought of sizzling rabbit for breakfast. She’d hold the camp’s food gifts from yesterday for later.

  She brought the rabbit back to her camp and stoked the fire. She dressed the rabbit, hanging it by its hind legs and making quick, practiced work of it. At home she kept hides for tanning, but she had neither the time nor the tools, right now. Finally, she set up a simple spit over the fire and put the rabbit over the happy fire.

  While that was cooking, Cassy searched the area in the bright light of day and found some wood that, with only a little work, would make a passable rabbit stick. About eighteen inches long and slightly curved, it was balanced enough to throw accurately, she found. With any luck, the rabbit stick would let her catch a small critter or two unawares while she traveled—she had no intention of firing her revolver unless she absolutely had to, because of the noise and her limited supply of bullets.