by A. J. Winter
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The Alphas
Dawn of the Alpha
Post Apocalyptic Dystopian Romance
By: A.J. Winter
I.
When the world went hot life changed for everyone. The rag-tag group of travellers moving south through what remained of the American heartland had no idea how bad life was for the rest of the world, there were no more international broadcasts and nothing to watch them on, and they no longer cared. The structure of society which allowed wages to be collected and the money to be exchanged for food and necessary items, and for that food and those items to be delivered to stores in the first place, had collapsed. Cities could not sustain their populations, what was left of them. Towns and villages walled themselves in, refusing the urban refugees admittance. All that was left for the survivors was a life on the road, scrounging for food and anything they could trade at these last vestiges of civilization.
This group had crawled from the rubble of Bismark, North Dakota, into a scorched and savage America. Men, women, and children, they took what they could carry and went south to find this new land inhospitable and dangerous.
II.
Damian had been wandering for weeks already. He’d been in the capital when the month long world war had broken out. Washington DC had been hit early and Damian had travelled through the every growing waste lands as the war swept across the country. He hadn’t bothered going very far west – too many giant cities that had been nuked early on; nothing of value or interest. As winter receded he abandoned the fighting in the south and made his way north, always one step behind the destruction. He watched city after city burn, watched the civilians crawl out of the wreckage, and watched the United States of America patch itself together into a hodgepodge of walled towns, guarded farms, and strong-houses.
He reached Bismark, North Dakota so soon after the planes that he could still see the flames raging through the city. Dark memories wouldn’t allow him to venture any closer until the flames finally burned themselves out.
He walked up the deserted highway until he found the first band of survivors. An armed man atop a semi-trailer hailed him. “Hold on there! Who are you?”
“Second Lieutenant, Damian Winters of the United States Army.” There was no Veteran’s Affairs, no military command office, no one in the entire country who could tell these people, or the dozens like them, that he had been discharged for failing his last psych evaluation
“Oh good,” the man said, “Are you here to save us?”
“Save you? The entire country looks like your city back there. I’m betting the rest of the world isn’t faring any better. I’m just here trying to survive.”
The man began crying and Damian walked into the make-shift camp. He had seen refugee camps in war-torn countries and knew what to expect, but it was harder when the faces all looked like family and friends instead of foreigners. He grabbed a young boy by the arm and said, “Is anyone in charge?”
The boy pointed towards the city and Damian let him go. He continued north through the camp until he found more armed men. He left his gun slung over his shoulder and kept his hands visible as he approached, but he figured no one would know he wasn’t just another survivor from the city.
“Is someone in charge of the camp here?” he asked.
“Where did you come from?”
“Not from here. I’m just passing through, spreading the news. Is there someone in charge?”
“They’re fighting about that now,” another man said. “Over there.”
He followed the raised voices to a crowded meeting. When it became obvious no one was going to pay any attention to him he jumped on a nearby barrel and shouted, “I have news from further south!”
III.
Suddenly everyone was staring at him. There was a core group standing in the center of the crowd, mostly middle-aged men, a few young bucks, and a young blonde woman in tattered office attire.
“The rest of the country looks a lot like Bismark. You’re one of the last cities to get hit. There’s no retaliation, no war, no army and a pretty big chance that the entire world has just gone up in smoke. The government and the military is radio silent. There is no internet and not a single radio or television station is broadcasting.”
“Who are you, and why are you here?” demanded the largest of the men in the core group.
“I’m just a traveller, passing through. I’ve seen the destruction first hand, many times. You have a few options; you’ll need to make some tough choices.”
“You don’t tell us what we need to do,” the man shouted.
Damian ignored him. “You can try to hold the city but in most places they’re already overrun with gangs. Get whatever food and necessary items you can out of there before it gets closed off. Your best bet is to make for some of the smaller towns. They weren’t hit as hard. They’ll be closing in too though so you have to move fast. If you are willing to work, to help defend the town, or if you can work a farm, they may let you stay. Otherwise you need to find shelter, or stay on the move. I passed a few caravans on my way north.”
“We’re not leaving.”
Damian was getting sick of the big, red-faced man and hopped down from his barrel, intent on leaving them all behind. It was the young woman who stepped forward.
“What good is it to travel?” she said. She didn’t sound angry so he stopped.
“You can hunt and scavenge, maybe find a place to call your own, who knows. If not, you can trade with the villages and the other caravans. There won’t be any new shipments to grocery stores or gas stations. Your cushy civilization is broken. If you want to survive you have to learn to live the way people did before supermarkets and fast food chains. Good luck.”
He left them to their bickering. He had some money he had saved and scavenged and he knew that people in these situations would be clinging to the hope that life would be rebuilt soon and things would go back to normal. They would take his money in exchange for supplies and in time they would realize that their money meant nothing. It wasn’t honourable but he had no oaths of service to uphold and there was no room for honour in this wasteland. There was only survival.
IV.
He was packing buns, dried meat, and ammunition in his ruck sack when the blonde from the meeting stormed up to him.
“Were you telling the truth?”
“Look lady, I was in Washington when it blew. I can tell you that over half the people there died within the first days. It was the same in every city I saw. Three hundred and twenty million people in this country and I’m betting there’s barely a cool million of them left alive today, and that number is going to drop long before it starts to climb again.”
“Where are you going?”
He shrugged. “West a ways, far as I can get, then south again. Travellin
g takes longer on foot and summer is short. Have to stay south of the snow if I want to survive.”
“The idiots back there won’t leave, but there are a few, maybe two or three dozen, who want to go. Can we come with you?”
“Shit. That many is going to be hard to travel with. You’re better off grabbing a dozen people you trust and getting out of here with as much as you can carry.”
“I’m alone here,” she said. “My family, if they’re alive, are halfway across the country. I haven’t seen my friends since the bomb dropped, I don’t know if they got out. I’m choosing to trust you.”
“Grab what you can carry. I leave in the morning.”
“Thank-you.” She dipped her head in a show of gratitude.
“Just you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “The others …”
“I’m not babysitting a bunch of whiny-ass urban refugees who don’t know a wild strawberry from a piece of deer shit.”
“You won’t be babysitting, you’ll be guiding.”
“Are there children in your group?”
“Yes.”
“They won’t make it.”
“You won’t have to care for them. You just have to help us get somewhere safer than this. You’re right; there will be gangs soon, whether they’re drug gangs or business tycoons, or a little bit of both. The city won’t be safe.”
“I’ll take you to the first village, and then you deal with this yourself. I’m not interested in being a hero. I’m still leaving in the morning, so if they’re not ready they don’t get to come.”
“Fine.” All signs of gratitude were gone and she stalked off.
He smiled in spite of himself and went to find a sheltered spot to sleep.
V.
They were waiting for him on the road, nearly three dozen people and less than a dozen looked like they could keep up any sort of decent pace. Before he could retreat the blonde strode over to him with three men and two women in tow.
“We’re ready to go,” she said. “These are Ryan, Matt, and Sean. All three have experience with guns. They’ll be helping you protect the group.”
“And these two?” Damian said.
“Susan is in charge of the needs of the group. You won’t have to listen to any whining or complaining – she will. If anything needs my attention, or yours, she’ll let us know.”
“They’re both Susan?” Damian said dryly.
“No. The girl is Violet, she’s agreed to help Susan. You won’t need to talk to her at all, and frankly I’d prefer if you didn’t.”
“You don’t trust me sweetheart?”
“Only about as far as I can throw you. For the most part you deal with me, since I’m in charge.”
“Like hell you are, Missy.”
“Anne,” she said.
“What?”
“My name is not Missy, or any other pet name you care to come up with. My name is Roxanne, or just Anne. And yes, I am in charge. I’m the one that wanted to leave while all the other want-to-be leaders here want to stay. I’m the one taking responsibility for these people, and you made it very clear yesterday that you aren’t interested in heroics. I’m in charge, you’re the guide. Simple as that.”
“No, Roxie, it’s even simpler. We walk when I say we walk. We go the way I say we go. We camp when I say it’s time to camp.” He walked over to the larger group. “Listen up people. We’re moving out. Keep up. We stop once at midday, otherwise we walk until it starts to get dark. If you don’t think you can handle it, stay here.” He turned his back on them and started walking west.
VI.
Damian called a halt at midday when the sun became unbearably hot. There was no shade, they had agriculture and the highway department to thank for that, but at least they could rest for an hour and have something substantial to eat. He ate away from the rest of the group, his gaze constantly sweeping the horizons.
He saw Roxanne picking her way between the people and mentally prepared himself for another battle. “How long do you think it will take to reach another town?” she asked, her voice gentler than he had been expecting.
He shook his head. “Two or three days. I’m not from this part of the country, I know my way from city-to-city but the smaller towns …” He shook his head again.
“So why are we trusting you to be our guide?” The anger and resentment were back.
“Because I have military experience and a map. Are they keeping up?”
She nodded. “We have wagons for the children. It was Susan’s idea.”
“Give her a medal. We’ll need to get moving soon. Get them packed again.”
Her eyes narrowed but she didn’t argue.
The complaining started mid-afternoon. The elderly were tired and sore. By the time the sun had moved directly ahead of them in the sky even the middle-aged members of the group were starting to grumble.
Shortly after that Damian realized that the group was lagging. He grabbed Ryan. “Stay here, keep an eye on these people. I’ll go see what the hold-up is.”
He found Roxanne and Matt in front of a large group of people, arguing. The half dozen people behind Matt were remarkably well dressed for the crisis at hand and were sweating profusely. “We’re stopping for a break,” Matt said.
Roxanne shook her head. “We need to cover as much ground as possible. You can eat and drink while you walk.”
Before the grumbling could overwhelm her Damian stepped up and said, “What’s going on back here? Do you want to get separated? Left behind? I told you how it was going to be when we left. If you don’t like it turn around and go back, otherwise get your asses in gear. Daylight’s wasting.” He turned to resume his position at the head of the column but Matt stopped him.
“Who put you in charge anyways? You’re nothing but a drifter.”
“I’m a second lieutenant with active combat experience. What are you?” He waited but Matt didn’t answer. “I said walk forward or walk back but stop holding up the group.”
Roxanne followed him when he walked away. “I don’t need your help,” she said.
“Like hell you don’t. You were ready to let this group fall apart. You want to lead, Roxie? Stop pussy footing around and lead. If you’re too nice to people, you’ll all die out here.”
VII.
Damian was already up and eating by the time the first of the group crawled out of bed. They struggled from the tents and sleeping bags as sunlight and the sound of the birds intruded on their sleep. He sat shirtless in the cool dawn light eating a thick sandwich with the last of his cheese and cured meat. He took small sips from his water and shook his head. They were slow, disorganized, and tired.
“They won’t survive out here,” he said as Roxanne joined him.
“They’ll adapt.”
“They’ll die.”
“Were you always this pessimistic?” She didn’t wait for an answer. It was hard to fight with a half-naked man who looked like he could model underwear. Unbidden her mind stripped her mental image of him down to a pair of snug white boxer briefs and her heart did a hard flip-flop. She stalked off trying to leave the image and the rush of desire behind her.
She stayed near the center of the group for most of the day, reminding people to drink as they walked and encouraging them to keep walking. Damian was leading and Matt was bringing up the rear while Ryan and Sean took either side, all of them watching for potential threats.
It was strangely quiet, even with the murmur of conversation around her. No airplanes roared in the sky and no cars passed them on the road. There were no blaring radios or ringing phones, just bird song, footfall on pavement, and tired voices.
At midday she approached Damian again, trying not to picture him on a package of underwear. “What are the chances of that house having running water?” she said, pointing across the field to a lone bungalow.
He shrugged. “Fifty-fifty.”
“We’re going to check it out. We’re running low on water already.”
He could see she was braced for a fight but his own water supply was also running low so he said, “Leave Ryan in charge, I trust him not to take off on us. Grab one of those wagons and the two of us will make a quick detour.”
Everyone was relieved at the news that they were getting a longer break, and that they would soon be able to refill their water bottles. Not even Matt could find something to complain about.
It was a short jog across to the house with the wagon full of empty water containers carried between them. Damian was impressed with the way Roxanne kept up. She was out of breath when they reached the front steps but still managed to take them two at a time.
She banged on the door for a good long while then tried the handle. “Locked.”
Damian took out his hand gun and used the grip to smash a fist-sized hole in the one window on the front side of the house. Reaching in he flipped the latch and slid the window all the way open. “Go on in. I’m going to look around the yard.”
She nodded and ducked through the two foot by two foot window flashing him a clear view of a firm round ass. He stared shamelessly until she disappeared and jogged around to the back. In the garage he found an empty stall and a small car. He located a jerry can and set about the distasteful task of siphoning the fuel out of the car, and then the lawn mower. He also grabbed a jug of motor oil and a bag of assorted tools. In the shed he found a garden wagon and loaded his other prizes inside. He pulled it around front to find Roxanne’s wagon half full of containers of water. When he tried the door it opened and he smiled. He wasn’t fond of the idea of crawling through the window.
She wasn’t in the kitchen. He frowned. ‘Maybe this place isn’t abandoned after all.’ He pulled out his sidearm and made his way carefully down the hallway. The office was empty, as were the two bedrooms he passed. He heard movement behind door number four and he slammed it open pointing his gun at a naked Roxanne. She shrieked as he twisted away, shutting his eyes.