Perhaps, when I sat in the back of an SUV on a cold fall morning, wrapped in a coat that was several sizes too big.
It’s been three years since the national distribution of the vaccine. Few survivors remained after that second outbreak of the disease, but with the help of some foreign governments, America began to rebuild the same political structure as before. Foreign contractors worked with the survivors to rebuild the grid and everything else. I watched it all happen from the small cabin in the western Pennsylvanian woods. It is a miracle that I ever survived this ordeal.
I was half dead when Michael found me in the city. Amidst bursts of gunfire, he carried me onto the bus as it slowly plowed through the New American blockade. As soon as my back touched the cold steel within the bus, I went completely unconscious. I remember waking from the blackness to see his face. The noise had stopped, and out the slits in the steel were trees instead of buildings. Aside from the driver, there was no one else on the bus. I felt a painful tug on my hand and turned my head. He was stitching my hand back together. An IV bag rested beside my head and fed into my arm.
“Just let me go…” I mumbled. I didn’t want to live. I had my revenge. My family was gone – I thought then that they all were probably dead.
“I’m not letting you die,” he answered with a confused chuckle and continued his work. “Besides, I’m not just saving you.”
He gave me a slight nod and a weak smile and again, I lost consciousness. I've never known what he meant.
When I came to, we were at a rest stop. A familiar rest stop. Michael sat on a picnic table with the other last surviving member of the Sanctuary. I struggled to my feet. The two fingers on my left hand found the stitch marks beneath a white bandage along my chest that covered my shoulder. Michael had put me back together.
I hobbled to the table beside them and sat down. When I tried to lean back, the hard wood of the table top reminded me of even more stitches across my back.
“Where are we heading?” I asked Michael.
“I don’t know,” he answered, staring off into the forest. “Hopefully, the four of them made it to the border. With the cure at hand, maybe they will let them in.”
“Who are the four?”
“Jocelyn, Carter, Paige, and that new guy. I never got his name.”
“Good. They made it out.”
“I just hope they make it to the border. Any chance this country has rests with them. It won't be long before the virus has completely spread.”
“I’m sure they did,” I replied. I somehow could feel it. “If they manage to get that cure to Canada, how long until they can spread the vaccine?”
“I have no idea. I hope pretty fast.”
“Me too.”
We both continued to sit there in the silence, staring ahead into the forest. A small stream glistened in the distances. Some of the surface had frozen over.
I turned to Michael. His face was covered in dirt, and he had several blood soaked bandages around his arms and legs. He stood, briefly wincing in pain. He lets out a cough.
“You want to head north?” he asked. “Try to catch up with them?”
I considered it for a moment.
“No,” I said. They'd be okay. I'd be okay.
“Then where to? While you were out, we managed to fill the tanks, so we can take you where you want to be. Or you could hang with us if you like? Although we need to head north and try to quietly get some of that cure.”
“What if they didn't make it? We could head back to the city; there has to be some left there,” I suggest.
“You know what, I know they made it,” he says, looking forward with a grin. “So you coming?”
I considered the possibilities. For the first time in a long time, I had nothing to look forward to. No one to be with.
“No,” I decided. I looked around. I knew where I was. I knew where I could go. “This is where I get off. Thanks for taking care of me, but I have someplace I need to go.”
“I don't know if that's the best idea. You've been pretty torn up. You should rest more. Besides, it's still the middle of winter.”
I smiled back and looked up at the lightly falling snow. “I’ve been through much worse.”
“I bet you have. Well, if you’re leaving,” he stood and walked toward the bus, “take this.” Michael lifted the cargo space of the bus and pulled out a backpack, and something familiar.
“Where’d you get a bow?” I inquired while taking it from him.
“You’d be surprised what goodies we have under this thing. Take this hiking pack, it once belonged to someone special several years ago. It'll have all you need.”
I took the pack and bow and started to walk towards the woods, carrying both in my only good hand. I had not been in alone for a long time.
“Will I see you again?” Michael asked, standing near the entrance to the bus.
“You’re welcome to catch up with me.”
“I've got to take care of my last soldier.” He gestured to the last member of the Sanctuary on the bus. “Then maybe I'll see you around. I don't have much else either.”
I turned and began to walk away.
“Hey,” Michael said, “don't you give up.” I turn to him
“That's the one thing I've learned,” I answered, “and I never will.”
He nodded. When everything would begin to go back to normal, we were two people who wouldn't fit in. I entered the forest slowly and began my new journey.
Every day is a struggle, but I beat on. We all have to.
It took me a few days to get to the cabin, but I felt alive as I survived in the forest. Hunting, sleeping in trees, the smell permeating all of my clothes. My God, I missed it all.
A few days later, I crossed the gate. The tips of a pair of crosses rose above the small layer of snow.
I was there. Within the hour, I was opening the door to the cabin. It was just the way Walt and I had left it.
That winter I hunted. I survived.
I found life again in that campground. I didn't need revenge; I didn't need to be scared of anything. I could just be me – whatever that is in this world.
When spring came, I received word about the change brought by the vaccine distribution and foreign interventions. Convoys of trucks and cars passed the campground, and I had the chance to talk with all sorts of people. With the collapse of New America and the eradication of the plague, foreign intervention grew quickly. Everyone in the world wanted a hand in “rebooting” America. I imagine most were in it for their own gains, but regardless, it was help that the country needed.
I knew those four would make it with the vaccine, but the proof was ecstasy. People spoke of them in a nearly legendary sense. “They are the ones who saved us all,” many of them said. “I was dying in a bed, and that cure could not have come a minute later,” another woman told. I considered making my way up north to find them. To find the only family I had left in this world. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
They are my family, but the memories they brought are too heavy. A family from a world that was disappearing. A world that I needed to distance myself from. I needed to do this myself. And three years later, some days are still a struggle.
I'm not in danger. There's no one I need to save. There's no one I need to kill.
No one is going to hurt me.
I come to a stop sign.
“You daydreaming again?” a voice says beside me.
“Yea, I get caught up in the past sometimes.”
“Don't we all,” Michael answers, slowly placing his arm out the window with an open palm to catch the wind. A year ago, he showed up again at the cabin. He heard of the strange bow-carrying girl who lived in the woods. Knowing it was me, he decided to take me up on the offer and join me. The bus's driver found a home somewhere with a girl he met; Michael didn't fit in that home.
We knew we couldn't stay in that cabin forever. So, a few months later we moved south to Georgia. I'll admit it; it
was nice finally living somewhere with reliable electricity and water. Not long after, we even had television and internet in our small government run apartment. It amazed me how quickly things began to fall back into normalcy around us. We both managed to find jobs doing odds and ends.
Things were... are... normal?
A few months back Michael found some info about Jo, Carter, Paige, and Nichols on the internet. The four of them had lived near one another near Lake Erie. From what we gathered, they are happy. They should be. Perhaps when I have this all figured out, I will find them.
Our struggle to survive and create a cure became an international story. The world considers them heroes for what they did – heroically creating the vaccine and delivering it to Canada. We found videos of them being interviewed on news stations and talk shows. Whether they liked it or not, they have become celebrities. Their stories traveled the world.
BBC even started a TV series about those six years when America fell apart. Hollywood still has a while before it starts making more movies, but that has no bearing on overseas productions. It's one of the highest rated shows and is broadcast in several different languages.
Personally, I feel the whole treatment is out of control, but it seems Jo and the rest are making a nice living off their rights to the story. They deserve that.
Michael watched a few episodes. They've embellished a lot. A character based on him made an appearance at the end of the last episode. They made “Katherine” an immediate love interest for him. He laughs at that irony and got a kick outta the show. I've still managed to avoid the nonsense.
Hopefully, the show only lasts one more season.
The sun is quickly setting as I take another turn; we are almost there. It's been a long drive to the other side of the country.
The tall buildings along the shore block my view. After navigating around the high rises, I park the car, and we get out.
Nearing the edge of the asphalt, I take off my shoes. Michael keeps his on. My foot carefully touches the soft sand.
It is my first time on a beach in my entire life. The sand lightly burns as I step onto the white ground. After walking another thirty or so feet, the sand becomes damp. The waves slowly ebb with tiny crashes. In the distance, there are a few other groups of people sitting in the sand looking out into the sea. I breathe in the salty air. It fills my lungs and makes them feel new. Michael falls behind as I get closer to the water. I dab my toe into the water. It’s freezing cold.
And I love it.
I take a few more steps until the seawater darkens the bottom of my pants. I look back to Michael with a soft smile. He stands along the shore, several strides back with his hands in his pockets; the wind rustles his dark hair. I turn back to the sea.
It is truly beautiful. The most beautiful thing I have ever seen. This is where I will find a permanent home - somewhere I can look out and see this every day.
I still have so many pieces of myself that I'm struggling to pick up, but in this moment, it feels like I'm born again.
End of Book III
Sara
Mom sits beside me on my bed. She closes my favorite book and smiles. I think she’s getting sick; she coughed every few pages. Caitlyn fell sleep before mom even started the book! She pulls up the covers to my chin, and runs her hand through my hair and then delicately places a kiss on my forehead.
“I promise tomorrow will be better.” We just moved here not too long ago, and I really didn’t like our new home. Dad got transferred for work. I’m not sure why he couldn’t just work there anymore.
“But the kids at school are so mean, and I have like no friends.”
“Well, try one more time, sweetheart,” she says smiling. I take a second to think it over. I know mom is right.
“I’ll give it another try. I love you,” I say, sitting up again and wrapping my arms around her waist.
“I love you, too, dear,” she responds, and tucks me back into bed.
She stands up and walks over to my sister who is fast asleep. She kisses her lightly and then walks to the door.
“Goodnight,” she whispers, and then switches off the lights.
I turn my head and look at my twin sister. Caitlyn hasn’t handled the move well. I need to be strong for her.That’s what sisters are supposed to do - to be best friends.
Jonathon
I quietly insert the key, into the door. I should have been home hours ago. Dad’s gonna be pissed if he’s still awake. The apartment is dark.
Jo sits on the couch with a book under the low light of a nearby lamp. Her eyes give a mean look that I deserve. She barely considers me her brother anymore.
Still, she is always there for me.
I mouth, “Sorry” to her. She simply rolls her eyes and makes her way to her bedroom. If only she knew why I was out late, perhaps she wouldn’t have looked at me like that. I'm not going to tell her until I have all of the money. Although she's only a junior, she has her eyes on going to Cornell. God knows dad could never afford it. She has the grades, but probably not anywhere near close enough for a full-ride. I'm going to get her there.
I've been working a variety of under the table jobs for the past year, so she doesn't have the burden of taking out as many loans. I'm giving up college for her. And these past few days, a lot of people have been calling off sick. I've really been able to pocket a lot.
I want my sister to have the best future. I smile lightly and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Perhaps tomorrow I'll tell them both what I have been doing.
Maybe then, he'll look at me different.
For a change, the future looks really hopeful.
Humanity Gone
A Final Thanks
Thanks to my friends and family for giving me the encouragement to complete this year long journey.
Rebirth went without a title for the longest time. After outlines and first drafts, no title seemed to work. Finally, I thought of Rebirth. It was simple and it spoke to many of the characters whose journeys were beginning or ending throughout the book.
Most of all, it's how I decided to end things with Caitlyn. Originally, the ending, especially hers, was going to be bleaker. Her inability to exist in a “fixed world,” seemed a natural reason for her to die. However, it didn't feel right.
For once in my life, I wanted things to be optimistic. The three books are filled with so much sadness and loss that ending on hope felt more fulfilling. In writing her final chapter, I discovered the real message of this saga. Hope. That no matter how ugly, hopeless, and scary things will ever get, we need to keep shoving through. Then, although it may not be easy to forget the past, difficulties will ease with time.
It may be called Humanity Gone, but it's about still believing in humanity when there is little to be found.
Since this is the last, I have many who have made all of this possible. I want to thanks Marie McCausland who demanded that I have a plague with at least some grounding in science. She detailed a disease that could do what I asked, and I hope my simplification of her science gives her justice.
With the tireless efforts of Dean Culver, many mistakes and plot holes would still exist. His help has been instrumental in making this possible and I truly cannot thank him enough for his efforts.
Sandra Finley's final edits caught the very last of those pesky typos, and her excitement for my work is truly treasured.
Most of all, thanks to you. I hope you thoroughly enjoyed reading this trilogy. Whether friend, family, student, or stranger, your support is dearly cherished.
I'm currently working on a few projects, and I hope to be able to share them with you soon.
Derek Deremer
12/3/2013
About the Author
Derek Deremer continues his love of stories and tries to share that with his students. He is from Pittsburgh and earned an English degree at Westminster College.
Follow him on Twitter: @DerekDeremer
Like his author page on Facebook.
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Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1: Carter
Chapter 2: Carter
Chapter 3: Caitlyn
Chapter 4: Laura
Chapter 5: Jocelyn
Chapter 6: David
Chapter 7: Ryan
Chapter 7: Paige
Chapter 8: Nathan
Chapter 9: Jocelyn
Chapter 10: Nichols
Chapter 11: Caitlyn
Chapter 12: David
Chapter 13: Nathan
Chapter 14: Jocelyn
Chapter 15: Carter
Chapter 16: David
Chapter 17: Tori
Chapter 18: Ryan
Chapter 19: Jocelyn
Chapter 20: Paige
Chapter 21: Ryan
Chapter 22: Nichols
Chapter 23: Carter
Chapter 24: Cole
Chapter 25: Jocelyn
Chapter 26: Caitlyn
Chapter 27: Ryan
Chapter 28: Nichols
Chapter 29: Michael
Chapter 30: Paige
Chapter 31: Carter
Chapter 32: Paige
Chapter 33: Jocelyn
Chapter 34: Caitlyn
Sara
Jonathon
Humanity Gone
A Final Thanks
About the Author
Humanity Gone (Book 3): Rebirth Page 18