The Girl's Guide to the Apocalypse

by Daphne Lamb

  “Bruce is dead!” I shouted. “He’s dead. And now he’ll never apologize to me for being a jerk.”

  Both were silent.

  At that moment, I sobbed and couldn’t stop. The smell and thought of Bruce so violently killed was too much to handle, and it was the only thing I could think to do. I cried for not knowing if my family was alive. I cried because I was willing to spend my time doing data instead of something that really mattered, like looking after stray puppies or something. Debra and Robert just stared at me while it happened.

  She shrugged and mouthed, “I don’t know.”

  At some point, I felt someone rub my back in a slow comforting manner. I looked up and saw Robert standing next to me, his face full of genuine concern.

  “I’m really sorry,” he said. “What happened?”

  “It’s those people,” I said. “The ones we took supplies from. I tried. I really tried to warn them and—”

  I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The stench in the room didn’t help either.

  “You know what I like to think about in times like this?” Robert asked as he opened his risk management book and started to read. “It’s difficult to effectively respond to things like hours upon hours of complaining. Wanting to toot someone’s horn, but another team member getting upset at that. Wondering why the balance of power in the office suddenly shifts when a new employee is added. “

  I was confused, and I looked at Debra, who nodded as if she heard rich, transcendent insights.

  “I don’t think any of this applies.”

  “Of course it does!” Debra snapped. “This is just basic logic. It’s like food for my soul.”

  I looked up at Debra, who covered her mouth with her jacket.

  “What are you both doing here?”

  Robert took a deep breath. “There was an incident.”

  “What happened?”

  Both of them exchanged looks.

  “We were bombarded,” he said.

  “They took everything,” Debra said.

  “We didn’t have anything,” I said. “Did we?”

  “I really wanted the rest of those pretzels,” she said.

  “Of course.” I said. “Who was it?”

  Robert shrugged. “They wore masks and made a lot of noise.” He rubbed his forehead. “It was terrifying.”

  “Were they the people from the RVs?”

  Debra gave me another dirty look. “How would we know?” she asked. “We weren’t special enough to go down there. At least according to you.”

  “So masked people came and scared you into giving them your pretzels?”

  “It’s more serious than that,” Robert said. “They wanted that house, and they wanted everything there and they didn’t care if we lived or died. They asked for you.”

  “Me?” I asked incredulously.

  Robert and Debra nodded simultaneously.

  “But you made it out,” I said. “I’m sure there’s a million Verdell Sonobes. That could have been anyone.”

  Debra nodded. “I thought if I let them see my boobs that would do it.” She started to cry. “They didn’t want to.”

  “Wait,” I said. “Are you upset that they took everything or that no one wanted to see you naked?”

  She angrily wiped tears away. “I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

  “Guess not,” I said. “Are you sure these people were looking for me.”

  “Look,” Robert said. “We made it out and that’s what’s important. It doesn’t matter what we might have lost in the process.” He seemed momentarily shaken, but then recovered. “The question is what we’re going to do now.”

  “We can’t stay here,” I said. “The smell alone is just one major reason.”

  “Agreed,” he said. “What have you got?”

  “What have I got?” I asked. “How would I know where to go from here? I got us this far and that was due to following around Priscilla.”

  “Where’s she now?” he snapped. “If she’s so forward thinking, you should have kept up with her.”

  “She’s dead.”

  There was an awkward silence. Robert cleared his throat and went to speak again, but closed his mouth.

  “I was hoping this day would turn around somehow,” Debra said. “Something tells me it’s all a wash.”

  He snapped his fingers at her. “What was that place those hooligans were talking about?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “What place?”

  “That’s what I asked you.”

  She shrugged.

  He sighed heavily. “They came into the house.”

  “Yes.”

  “They threw me up against the wall.”

  “I remember that.”

  “They threatened me with a stick. It involved my bottom.”

  “I was packing at that point.”

  “Dear God!” I said. I touched his arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  He waved me away. “Think, Debra, think!”

  She rolled her eyes into the back of her head.

  “Were they all women?”

  “Maybe,” he said. “It doesn’t matter.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “They kept talking about a base camp somewhere,” she said. “A bank maybe?”

  “Are they coming back? Did they say how they knew me?” I asked. “Bank of America? Citibank? Which one?”

  “Did they say there was sign?” Robert asked. “Maybe says Bank of America.”

  I stared him down, but he ignored me.

  “That’s exactly what I was just asking,” I said.

  “Just trying to help.”

  “Maybe we should head down that way,” I said. “It’s got to be better than waiting for cannibals to come and get us.”

  “Cannibals?” Robert asked panicky. “More cannibals?”

  Debra shook her head. “I don’t want to run into that gang again.”

  “It sounds like they were just hungry,” I said.

  “Of course! They wanted to eat us,” Robert said.

  “Well,” Debra said, folding her arms. “You said cannibal and now it’s real.”

  Suddenly there was a light that burst through the window. We simultaneously ducked.

  “What was that?” Debra asked.

  “Flashlight,” I said. “I think.”

  “Stop talking,” Robert said. “Both of you.”

  We crouched in silence as we could hear a shuffling that came from the outside. My first thought was that it was the weird commune from below, but there were no men’s voices.

  The door slowly creaked open. The three of us huddled into the shadows.

  “Oh, dear god,” one of the voices said.

  “What?”

  The door quickly shut. “There’s a smell,” she said. “I think there’s something dead in there.”

  “I’ll bet that’s what that smell is,” Robert said.

  “Shhh!” I said.

  “Wait,” Debra whispered. “Something’s dead in here? Where?”

  “Shhh!”

  “At least turn on a light!”

  “I think now’s a fine time not to have any light.”

  Debra began to hyperventilate. “I can’t. I can’t be in here now.”

  “Please, Debra,” I said. “At least wait a moment.”

  Her hand went to the top of my head and then found the door handle on the wall behind me. She jiggled it.

  “At least someone turn on the light or something. I have to know what’s in here,” she said. “Verdell, you go first.”

  “Absolutely not,” Robert said. “I don’t think this place has electricity anyway.”

  Debra stumbled over me and jerked the door open.

  “Don’t go out there!” I
said.

  She ignored me and shot out the door, arms flailing. Robert and I leaned up against the doorframe.

  “Hey!” said a voice. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Don’t hurt me!” Debra said. “Don’t hurt me!”

  “Take her down!” the voice called.

  Robert took a peek outside.

  “They’ve got an ATV,” he said.

  “What?”

  “An ATV,” he said. “No one’s looking after it. They’re distracted with Debra. We can make a run for it.”

  “I can’t even tell if she’s okay,” I said.

  “She’ll be fine,” he said. With that, he dodged past me and out the door, laughing maniacally.

  “She’s not alone!” I heard a voice say. “Check the house!”

  I took a deep breath and launched out the door after Robert. I could only catch a glimpse of him as I ran blindly in his general direction, but I saw him jump onto the ATV, which was parked behind a tree. He gestured to me as I sprinted to meet him.

  I climbed onto the back of it as he started it up. It jerked forward, and I almost toppled behind it, but I grabbed his waist and held on tightly as we sped off.

  It then occurred to me that I was grabbing my boss by the waist. It was weird, so I loosened my hands slightly.

  “Anyone behind us?” he asked.

  I looked and saw nothing. “Nope,” I said. “You’re good.”

  “By the way,” he said. “I’ve got a pretty bad wound where you were clutching. Do you mind putting your hands lower?”

  And that’s when things got even weirder.

  We drove down a bumpy, broken road when we noticed hastily made signs. The words were made with paint, which had been smeared or faded out by the rain.

  I pointed one out to Robert, who slowed down the ATV.

  “What does it mean?” he asked.

  “One of them says, ‘…tine,’” I said. “Like quarantine?”

  “I’m following it then,” he said.

  “At this point, what if it’s been abandoned with weird cult people who drink cat urine to stay alive? Or something worse. Like Libertarians.”

  “I’m going to be impressed that they found a way to farm cats,” he said. “And thank you for making that a very real thing in my mind.”

  “Which thing? The cult or Libertarians?”

  “Both.”

  And so we sped on.

  The signs led us to yet another site, another large tent surrounded by more chainmail link fencing. More people huddled, more mud, wearing sad dirty ponchos. The sight of it alone made me deflate.

  “These are our options now,” I said. “Being ushered like cattle or urine cabins.”

  “Maybe they’ll have sandwiches,” he said.

  I had to nod. That sounded awesome.

  He pulled in through the slightly open gate and was immediately stopped by a security guard.

  He stared at us through a shielded helmet. “Number please?”

  “Excuse me?” Robert asked.

  “Your quarantine number,” he said. “The one you were issued to get in.”

  Robert looked at me.

  I pulled out my bag and withdrew the green bracelet issued at the last point. “Does this mean anything? The green group?”

  The guard looked at it, almost shocked.

  “You were at the West Quarantine?” he asked.

  Robert nodded. “Just a few days ago.”

  “How did you escape?” he asked.

  We both stared at him.

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  “We heard that the quarantine was taken down,” he said. “Our communication went out, but we expected some of our guys to come back from there. And they didn’t.” He took a deep breath. “Bunch of people got released into a storm of acid rain. Some punks tore the place apart looking for some girl.”

  “Why didn’t you just call them?” Robert asked.

  I leaned forward. “The communication was down,” I whispered into his ear.

  “Does that mean we still can’t use the phone?”

  I ignored the statement. “Is there room for us inside?”

  The guard handed me back the bracelet. “Go right in,” he said. “You might as well stay, but who knows how long we have here.”

  “Thanks, officer,” Robert said.

  “Oh, I’m not an officer.” He shrugged.

  Robert flared up the engine again, but the guard held up his hand. “You can’t bring that in here,” he said. “Uh, in fact, it’s ours now.”

  Robert was visibly disappointed, but obeyed by dismounting. I watched as the “not an officer” took the ATV and drove off with it, laughing into the distance.

  We walked into the tented area, which was packed with people, huddled cold and obviously low on optimism. Someone shoved a bundle into my arms. I looked down and saw it was a blanket.

  “Find a spot,” the uniformed voice said. “Anywhere you can. We’re going to be sealing off the area as soon as the sun goes down.”

  Someone handed a blanket to Robert. He stared at it like he’d never seen one before, but reluctantly took it. He held it to himself and then took in his surroundings. He groaned.

  “Not in the mud,” he said. “I’m so sick of mud.”

  “Well, there was a house with someone dead inside you could go back to,” I said.

  He stared me down. “Remind me to put that comment in your review.”

  “Ha,” I said. “Good to see your sense of humor’s still around.”

  He turned away and started to walk. So I trailed after him because I didn’t know where else to go or stand. At least walking with him wouldn’t make me seem like such an outcast amongst all these people.

  We walked the length of the area, which was full of families, crying children and huddled groups that were either getting to know each other or up to no good. A line for food had snaked its way around us.

  “We are out of plates!” someone shouted. “You will not be issued one if you don’t have one already.”

  A very loud synchronized groan went up from the entire group standing in line.

  We ended up settling toward the back end of the tent next to a power generator, squeezed in between two families. Robert smiled at them, but I kept my gaze to the floor. I sunk to it and dropped my bag next to me.

  “You folks from anywhere around here?” I gave them an overly big smile, knowing they would know I was trying way too hard.

  The mother shook her head while the rest of the family ignored me.

  “Want anything?” Robert asked.

  “Water,” I said. “I would love some water.”

  He nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.” He winked. “Don’t go away. I’m coming back for you.”

  I winked back. He dashed off.

  I took the blanket and shoved it under my head like a pillow. I let my eyes close, but when I opened them again, I saw a boy, maybe fourteen, walking off with my bag.

  “Hey!” I said.

  Either the kid didn’t hear me or chose to ignore me. I jumped up and followed him, quickly matching his pace.

  “Hey!”

  The kid started to run, tightly clutching my bag. So I ran after him. I had nothing of real value in there. It was just the principal of the matter. That was mine. It was the only thing I had left in the world, and I was getting shown up by some junior high punk.

  I caught up with him and jerked the bag.

  “Hey!” I said again.

  The kid seemed surprised and tried to stare me down.

  “Hey yourself,” he said. “Let go!”

  “This isn’t yours, and you know it,” I said, gripping the straps even tighter.

  The kid tried to jerk it away. “It is mine.
My aunt gave it to me.”

  “Really?” I asked. “Then maybe you can tell me what’s in it.”

  “Uh…Skittles.” The kid jerked even harder, but I was stronger.

  “Let it go,” I said. “Try stealing from someone your own age.”

  A woman stared at us. “What are you doing with that child?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” I said, holding fast. “There’s some confusion on what belongs to who.”

  Three other women joined her. “Are you stealing a child’s belongings?” another woman asked.

  “No.” I was defensive. “I’m not. It’s quite the opposite.”

  The kid started to cough. “I don’t feel well.”

  The women gasped. “You’re harassing a sick child?”

  “How is this going to affect his self-esteem?” the third woman shrieked.

  A hand came down on my shoulder. I looked up without loosening my grip. A man stood over me. He was handsome and had kind, soft features despite his gaunt and sad sack appearance.

  “Miss, I’m going to ask—” He stopped. “It’s you.”

  I stared at him. “Jake,” I said.

  He cocked his head. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask the same about you,” I said. “I’m more surprised that you’re in town than just in this tent.”

  Jake swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

  Jake, that is, my ex-Jake, and I had history. Some people would classify as our current Apocalypse as their worst phase of life ever. Mine was actually three years prior.

  Five years earlier, we were engaged, and I had never felt happier, healthier or smarter. We had a future, we had a plan, but it didn’t work out. He woke up one day, stopped taking his meds and it was downhill from there. The last time I saw him was around one am when he had pulled up in front of my apartment, truck packed with his belongings. He wasn’t himself, but I thought it was a phase, so when he gave me an ultimatum, I didn’t take it seriously. He disappeared into the night, and I didn’t hear from him again. Afterward, I hit an emotional bottom, doing the one thing I didn’t want, not being hungry for my favorite foods and calling my parents—a first in five years. Despite that, I came back stronger, at least strong enough to weather through a three-year relationship with a man I had passionately mild feelings for.

  And now, here he was, staring at me with the same surprise I prayed so hard not to convey.