Shattered Roads

by ALICE HENDERSON

  At the bottom of the stairs, a metal door laden with holes blocked her way. She shoved all her weight against it, and it squeaked on rusted hinges. Finally, it creaked open just enough for her to slip through.

  Darkness gathered in the next room, so she pulled out her headlamp and switched it on. She played the beam over the remains of the building. The ceiling had caved in, but someone had cleared a path through the rubble. At its far end, she spotted the familiar keypad. Sending the beam over the walls, wary of night stalkers, she hurried to the far end of the room. Bringing up the code Rowan had given her, she entered the numbers on the keypad, and the door slid open. She let out a sigh of relief.

  She walked inside, and the door slid shut behind her. A quick circuit of the room revealed that no one else was inside. The layout was identical to the first shelter she’d been in. Books lined one wall, and she went to these first. True to what Rowan had said about the inventory differing, she didn’t recognize any of the titles. It was a completely new set of books. She set her tool bag down on the small table. Then she scanned the book titles.

  One caught her eye at once. It was a fragile volume, not hardbound like the others. Sword Woman: Collected Stories by Robert E. Howard. She pulled it down and opened it up. The smell of antiquity wafted up from its pages, a smell she found strangely comforting. She set it on the table, then returned to the books. She knelt down, scanning titles on the bottom shelf. She spotted a familiar-looking metal box and opened it. Inside lay a PRD identical to the one she’d found with the videos. She tried to turn it on, but the battery was dead. She placed it on the table, planning to recharge it and see if the contents were identical.

  Another scan of the bookshelf rewarded her with four more volumes that caught her eye: Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury, The Sixth Extinction by Elizabeth Kolbert, The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Orczy, and The Land That Time Forgot by Edgar Rice Burroughs.

  She took the depleted PRD and The Land That Time Forgot over to the small cot and stretched out. Her aching body thanked her, her muscles finally relaxing after a day of driving. She turned on the small lamp on the bedside table, then placed the PRD under it to recharge. Yawning, she opened the book. She’d read only the first page when her eyes closed, and she drifted into oblivion.

  She woke from a nightmare. In it, the night stalkers had infiltrated the shelter, creeping along the floor toward her cot. She sat up, scanning the room. The small table light still burned brightly. She peered under her cot and the neighboring one. Then she made a circuit of the shelter, checking under the table, listening at the air vent, making sure the door was still locked. It was. Sighing, she drooped her head, rubbing the back of her sore neck.

  She padded back to the cot and lay down again, taking off her boots and covering herself with the blanket. She lay there, staring up at the ceiling, unable to fall back asleep. She looked at the book next to her, then to the depleted PRD. It glowed softly, showing that it was fifty-six percent charged. She picked it up, scanning the contents, which were different from the one she’d found in the first shelter. She selected a new video.

  Raven’s face appeared, his long black hair waving in the wind.

  “It’s my second time on the restocking run, though last time I was only five and don’t remember it too well. Can’t believe what a wasteland it is out here. When you’re brought up with books, you think the world is like they describe.” He looked down, twisting the corner of his mouth. “But it’s not.” He looked behind him, where a crumbling road led into the distance. “We skirted around a Badlander camp today. I could tell my dad was pretty damn scared, but he tried to hide it.” He held up three books. “We’re putting more field guides in all the shelter libraries. Books on weather, animals, survival. Came across this score in an old burned-out library a few towns back.” He held up a thick green volume. “It’s called the A Green Beret’s Guide to Survival, and it’s chock full of great information. I’m leaving it here.” He thumbed through the book, then set it down. “It’s amazing we find any books at all now.” He stared up at the sky as raindrops began to fall. One splashed on the lens. “Got to get inside.” He reached over and switched off the camera. The file closed.

  Still not tired, H124 got up and walked to the bookshelf. There she scanned the titles for the survival book, finding it on the bottom shelf. She pulled it out and brought it to the bed. Holding it in her hands just as Raven had, she felt connected to him. Though they’d never met, she felt a strong sense of familiarity. For a while she flipped through the volume, seeing sections on what to do if you’re dying of thirst or freezing to death, and how to build a temporary shelter. It was an amazing resource.

  She picked up the old PRD. She selected another video from it. Raven stared back at her. He sat cross-legged outside a decaying building, on a dead street that looked like hundreds she’d passed herself.

  She turned up the volume to hear his voice. “If you looked at any of the field guides we placed in the shelters, then you probably saw images of all the animals that used to live here. Pretty amazing, right?

  “My family has handed down stories of huge bison herds roaming the western plains. Predators like bears and wolves hunted in the forests. Birds migrated across thousands of miles, back and forth from a whole other continent to the south.”

  He looked away from the camera. A collapsed building stood behind him, as broken cement and rebar stretched into the horizon.

  “If you’ve been watching these, then you might have seen my previous entry on the Sixth Extinction. Thought I’d give more specifics. See, before humans held so much power over the earth, things were different. Back then, when climate changed on a global level, plants and animals could slowly move north and south, changing habitats so they could survive. There were times when huge ice sheets covered the area where I’m standing. Animals moved south to warmer areas, then moved back north again when the ice receded.

  “But with this most recent climate change caused by humans, animals and plants couldn’t do that. The change in climate happened way too fast. Cities and roads and fences had fragmented the land so much that animals couldn’t move freely enough to save themselves. Plants couldn’t grow in the asphalt of the cities. Animals were killed as they tried to cross roads and fenced lands. People shot them. Eventually, creatures like the bear and wolf survived only in patches of protected land called national parks. But they were separated from others of their species, and couldn’t cross between the parks without being killed or starving to death. There was no food, after all, only human sprawl. The bears and wolves in these parks eventually mutated, becoming what my mom calls genetically isolated, as they didn’t have a wide population to breed from. Ultimately, the few survivors grew sick and died off.

  “The birds didn’t fare much better. They need darkness to migrate, as many of them navigated using the stars. But the constant glow of the cities made this impossible. Habitat loss was staggering as humans sprawled across all the areas wildlife once inhabited. Many birds died from collisions with omnipresent plate glass, buildings, and vehicles. Food became scarce.

  “Deforestation wiped out rainforests en masse, killing tens of thousands of species yearly. The only animals that survived were those who could coexist alongside humans, but these were often considered pests. Humans employed chemicals and traps to wipe them out. Mice, rats, roaches, raccoons, opossums . . . even their populations dwindled over time. My mom says that only roaches and bacteria will inherit the earth, when humanity has done its best to destroy it.”

  H124 could see a fire burning on the horizon, black smoke billowing up into the sky in a thick column of ash.

  “Can you imagine what it must have been like to live back then, when things were still around? Green forests? Birds singing in their branches, packs of wolves howling? I would have loved to see a bear rooting around, digging up logs to find insects, or glimpse a long V of geese migrating north for the summ
er.”

  He looked down. “What can we do now? It hurts to live in this time. Everything’s gone wrong; I can feel it in my bones. It’s not supposed to be this way, but the devastation just keeps mounting. It’s as if an ancient war machine were trundling on, trampling everything underfoot, leaving behind only broken cement in its wake. A lifeless wasteland, stripped of all beauty and value.

  “We don’t even live out in these ruined places. We wouldn’t be able to survive out here.”

  He picked up a handful of rubble, which crumbled as he closed his fingers. Then he reached down and ended the recording. She set the PRD down. Had it really all been so different? She tried to imagine standing on the ruined street above her when it was a grassy field, or a forest of trees. She tried to imagine the sound the birds might have made as they sung in the branches, or what a deer would have looked like stepping gracefully over logs to drink by a clear stream.

  She closed her eyes, imagining that time, and fell asleep.

  * * * *

  At dusk she showered, tucked away the new books she’d found, and ate a quick meal of an MRE that was called Meat Substitute Salisbury Steak. Then she tucked more rations into her tool bag, took one long look at the weather shelter, and locked it up.

  Her car waited for her beneath the debris she’d covered it in. She got in and drove it out from under the sheet metal. Rain fell, pummeling its roof. At least it wasn’t hailing. Yet.

  She drove for two hours in the darkness, then felt her throat constrict when she saw headlights in the distance. Again she shut her lights off and pulled over next to one of the numerous ramps she’d seen along the road. They typically led up an embankment, crossing a bridge over the road. Many of the bridges had long since collapsed, but a few still stood. This was one of them. She’d explored a couple, looking for places to sleep, and usually found a series of buildings nearby, their window frames bereft of glass. They all looked similar, though she didn’t know what they’d been used for. They had tall overhangs jutting out, and upright rectangular contraptions with rotted hoses spaced evenly under the overhangs. Any markings on the rectangles had long since been weathered away, but she could tell they’d once been electronic. She’d slept next to one of these buildings more than once.

  As the headlights grew closer, she decided to drive up the ramp and see if she could find one of those buildings to park behind. She maneuvered up the slope and crossed the old bridge, hoping that it would hold. It did. To her relief, a little way down this smaller road, she saw one of those buildings with the overhangs. Other structures stood nearby, with tall signs that had toppled over. They were probably once visible from the interstate. She’d seen the same fallen signs all along her travels. They were hollow and shattered, and looked like they’d once held lighting. This turnout still had one intact sign. It leaned against its building, covered in mold and dust. She could still make out the symbol, a giant yellow M set against a red background.

  She glanced over her shoulder and back at the interstate, seeing the approaching lights. She thought she must be nearing some center of activity for these people. She hadn’t seen anyone else for days.

  She pulled between the buildings, careful not to drive over anything sharp. Behind them lay a crumbled space of asphalt, and she pulled in flush with one of the walls. She debated whether or not to get out of the car, then decided she would run over to the interstate and see if they drove by without pulling in.

  On the watch for night stalkers, she ran.

  Chapter 17

  She knelt down behind one of the railing supports at the cross bridge and watched. The headlights were about a mile away. Two cars. They started to slow as they approached the exit. There was every chance they’d seen her headlights when she’d seen theirs, but maybe they’d think she was one of their own. She wondered if they had some way to communicate between cars. If so, and they’d tried to communicate with her, they’d know she wasn’t one of them. Now the two cars slowed even more as they pulled off toward the ramp. She ran back to her car, boots thumping on the broken pavement. She raced between the two buildings and jumped into the driver’s seat, shutting and locking the door.

  She wasn’t sure what to do. They’d see her if she drove. She decided to stay put. Next to her lay several pieces of rusted sheet metal. She jumped out, hefting one up and leaning it against the car. Maybe they’d think it was an abandoned vehicle. She slid back inside.

  For several agonizing minutes she waited. Had they turned the other way? She didn’t see any headlights. And then she saw them, flashing on the buildings around her as they drove down the street.

  They shone their lights down between the two buildings. One car had turned her way. She reached for the ignition, ready to start it up. Just as the headlights pierced the darkness behind her, the second car appeared in front, exploring the next street up.

  But they still hadn’t seen her. As long as they didn’t spot the solar panel on the roof, they might think it was a derelict car. Maybe they wouldn’t notice it in the dark. She waited. The car behind her pulled past, down the little lane. The other car joined it a block away. The drivers stopped, talking to each other. Cracking her window, she caught snips of conversation.

  “. . . couldn’t have been them . . .”

  “. . . said those things killed Arch.”

  “. . . didn’t see another car?”

  She wanted to bolt, to swing the car out and make for another section of town. But they were too close. As they revved their engines, so much louder than her silent car, she smelled the scent of something rotten.

  They pulled back around, each one taking another street this time. But as one of them turned, its headlights played over her car. She ducked down in time, but if they were familiar with this area, they’d remember there’d been no car there.

  She heard one of them shout, “There!”

  And that was all she needed.

  She started up the car and shot out of her hiding place, the sheet metal crashing to the ground. She careened around the corner and back to the main drag.

  All she could hope for now was that her car was faster than theirs.

  She turned quickly onto the road, hoping she could lose them among the maze of streets. If she could get far enough ahead of them . . .

  But the two cars worked in tandem, cutting her off at every turn. They could definitely communicate with each other. She flipped a U-turn and sped back toward the interstate, trying to outpace them. She veered onto the entrance ramp, gunning her motor. The car shot forward as she raced around an old wreck on the side of the street and sped onto the highway, pushing the car faster than she ever had before.

  She was almost half a mile away before the two vehicles got onto the entrance ramp. She felt both terrified and giddy. She was faster than they were!

  She pushed the needle on the speedometer higher and higher, reaching over ninety miles an hour along the interstate, veering around stalled cars when she saw them. Up ahead she saw a hill. If she could get over it, then cut her lights and veer off somewhere, they’d have a hard time pinpointing her location.

  She saw that the two cars were falling behind in the distance. She crested the hill so fast that for a moment she was airborne; then the car hit the asphalt with a bang. She held fast to the steering wheel and gazed at the road ahead, looking for a place to pull off. Then her blood froze. Headlights flashed in the distance, at least six more cars. She didn’t dare turn her lights off going this fast. She saw a dirt turnaround in the median and whipped around on it, heading back the way she’d come. She’d been watching that side of the highway since she got back on, and hadn’t seen any wrecks. It was a risk, but she had to take it. She turned off her headlights and sped forward in absolute dark, keeping the car as straight as possible. She used the headlights of the two approaching cars to let her know where the road was. This stretch was very straight, so she used it to
her advantage. Just before the two cars were about to pass her, she spotted some derelict vehicles on the side of the highway. She slammed on her brakes and slid off the road, pulling in next to them.

  Sweat beading down her back, she waited. The two cars sped by. She thought of staying where she was, but when they met with the other six cars, it wouldn’t take them long to figure out that she’d turned off somewhere. So she pulled back onto the interstate, keeping her lights off. She reached the ramp, considering whether she should continue on the interstate. She hadn’t traveled this stretch, though, and with her lights off, she could plow into a stalled car. She got off at the ramp again, hoping they would think she had in fact moved onto the interstate. Driving as fast as she could, she sped through the desolate town, past the ruined M sign, and the initial place she’d parked.

  When she was out of view of the highway, she dared a flash of her headlights to get her bearings. The road stretched for miles, up a little hill. She then switched off her lights and headed down the road cautiously. If she wrecked her car, it was over. She maneuvered past some potholes, switching on the dim yellow parking lights when she needed to navigate past an obstacle. She wove around some stalled cars, then debris from buildings that had long since collapsed into the street, mostly bricks and masonry stones, old lumber.

  She ascended the little hill, atop which the crumbled road became little more than dirt. She crested the zenith, looking behind her. Her heart moved into her mouth when she saw headlights piercing the darkness behind her. But they were far away, passing the exit, speeding down the highway. She swallowed hard. She hit the emergency brake so the rear brake lights wouldn’t show. She couldn’t see anything. Finally she dared another flash of her headlights. It illuminated the desolate stretch of dirt, as well as some long-collapsed structures and scattered wire and posts from fallen fences. She turned off her lights and coasted down the hill, looking for a place where she could stash her vehicle.