by E S Richards
“Okay,” Blake spoke once he and Vic were back inside the store, the pair of them scaling down the secret escape route with ease. “What do we need?”
Vic looked around his store and smiled. Everything was as he had left it. The camping beds that he and Blake had been sleeping on were still positioned side by side, their sleeping bags laid on top of them. He had been slightly worried that someone might’ve broken into his store during the time away, but the security gate at the front seemed to have worked. It probably helped that it was covered in graffiti from youths in the area, their tags making the place seem like it was rundown and forgotten about.
Walking through into the main store where customers were served, Vic picked up a couple of bottles of water and threw one over to Blake. In addition to the explosives that they needed to collect, both men were aware that any food and water supplies would be valuable tender for the faction. Once the kids were out of the pit as well, they would need looking after—they would have to keep them hidden from the Authority for some time to stop them from being captured again.
That was Vic’s main worry when it came to Jackson’s plan. What was stopping the Authority from just storming the city again and doing the exact same thing? It had been made clear that the majority of adults in Houston were happy to just roll over and effectively play dead. He found it bizarre that just because they had been told they were dying they had already given up their fight. In the end, Vic was forced to just accept that that was how some people were. He had seen it back in Ukraine and it was a trait he had vowed never to carry himself. He was a fighter, not someone who just threw in the towel at the first sign of danger.
With most people being the opposite, Vic knew it would take a lot of manpower to truly overthrow the Authority. Jackson seemed to be prepared for it, but was everyone else? As he downed the contents of the water bottle, Vic decided it was a conversation he needed to have with the faction leader. If the two of them worked together, they could surely come up with a way to gain control over the city themselves. The way Vic saw it, that was the best plan of action.
“We’ll need to bag up a lot of this stuff,” Vic remarked as he looked around his store. “Water. Food. Most of it will last for weeks if rationed correctly. Do you think you can make a start on that, my friend?”
“Sure,” Blake nodded. “All of it?”
“Hmm, not all,” Vic shook his head. The survivalist in him told him that if he ever needed to return to the store—if things went wrong with the Authority—he would need enough supplies to still be there to survive himself. It was a selfish thought, but he knew no one lived forever by being selfless. “A couple of bags will do for now. We can’t carry everything,” he said as an excuse. “Just pack what we can take and we can come back for more if and when we need it.”
Blake nodded again, understanding that Vic probably had an ulterior motive for leaving things behind. He couldn’t blame the man. Vic had worked tirelessly for many years to build up what he had at the store—both in the front and the back—it was well within his right to want to keep some of that for himself. Blake knew he had already benefitted more than he could’ve imagined from Vic.
“Gotcha,” he replied with a smile. “I’ll add some candy bars, eh? For the kids.”
Vic laughed, appreciating that Blake understood him. He’d grown very close to the former stuntman in the days they had spent together. Everything had started off with a bit of a bang between them, especially after Jenson turned up and things spiraled out of control. Vic was grateful that Blake had stood by him, and together they had formed a close friendship. Over the years that Blake had visited the store, buying his daily requirements, Vic had always thought he was an admirable man. He would hold the door open for other customers or let certain people pay ahead of him if they had fewer items. They were small and relatively meaningless things, yet they had told Vic a lot about the man’s character over the years. He wondered if it weren’t for those actions whether he would’ve been so willing for Blake to stay in the store with him. It was funny how one random act of kindness could so easily shape one’s future.
Peeling off and returning to the back room of his store, Vic put his hands on his hips and acknowledged the walls of weapons he’d collected. It was a back business that he’d started up many, many years ago, his connections in America helping him to set up after only a few months in the country.
When Vic had first arrived in the country, Texas hadn’t been his first choice of home. There was a large population of Russian and Ukrainian immigrants in New York, including one of his cousins. Then after moving there and spending a few months with his cousin Yefe, Vic quickly decided that life in the city wasn’t for him. Even though Houston wasn’t exactly smaller, it felt a lot less cramped and Vic didn’t feel like he was fighting with hundreds of other people just like him to be successful.
It might have been a girl that had originally brought him to the city, whereas it was Houston itself that had encouraged him to stay. That girl was long gone—Vic wasn’t even certain if she lived there anymore—but Houston had truly stolen his heart. When someone mentioned the word home to him, Vic no longer thought of his parents’ house in Ukraine, thinking instead of his little store on the corner.
That was why he was so determined to team up with Jackson and the rest of his faction. He loved Houston and he couldn’t just stand by and let it be destroyed. It already hurt Vic to see parts of the city burning, and buildings crumbling or being destroyed by fighting. He couldn’t let the people be destroyed in that same manner. He’d watched it happen to his parents’ hometown when he was a child and he had moved to America for a better life—not for a repeat of a totalitarian government taking over and making everything worse. He couldn’t do anything about it when he was younger, but he could do something now. And he wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass him by. Pulling weapons down from the walls, Vic readied himself for a battle—a battle he was determined to win.
Chapter 12
Deb, Stuart, Ethan, and Miles stood around the grave silently, their heads hung low as they each whispered their own goodbyes. They had known this day would happen for some time now, even though none of them were prepared for it. Even after watching Doctor Reeves and everyone else die, they had still had faith that Billy would pull through. Now that faith was lost. Billy was dead and the four of them were the only survivors remaining in Tanner.
Walking back inside, Deb ushered Corker back and away from the door. The small dog wasn’t allowed outside anymore, the dirty snowfall—as they had come to call it—too heavy and there being no way to protect the little dog from it. None of them were even sure if it was just snow or not. They were certain ash and dirt were mixed into it on some level and that it was toxic, but without Mia and Jorge, they didn’t have any way of knowing how deadly it really was. As a result, they all chose to err on the side of caution and just avoided going outside at all costs. Now it seemed the only time they left the house was to dig another grave.
After Patrick and Allie had left, the group had done their best to make the final few days as easy as possible for Doctor Reeves and the couple of others who still lived in Tanner. The doctor was helpful, telling them what to do to ease the pain for each of them, although ultimately, they all knew there was nothing that could prolong their lives. Everyone from Tanner had died one way or another and now the place felt empty and strange to those who remained. A part of Deb wished they had all left with Patrick, though she knew Seattle was likely no different. Wherever you went now was a toss-up—no guarantee of an easy life anywhere.
“Miles—wait!” Ethan called after his son as the young boy stomped up the stairs to the room he had claimed as his own. Over the last twenty-four hours, Miles had struggled to come to terms with the fact Billy was dying. They had done everything they could for the boy, whose lungs were just too badly damaged to recover. Doctor Reeves had given him the gift of a few more days—that was it. Tanner seemed to be cursed in some way, no
one able to escape the lure of death that camped there.
“Let him go,” Deb said to Ethan, aware of what Miles was afraid of. He was frightened he would die too, truly believing that the town was cursed. “He’ll come around in time.”
Ethan sank down onto the couch with a sigh, his body sagging into the material and almost molding to it. He spent most of his time there now, snuggled into the fabric in front of the fire. A solid chill was settling across Tanner, growing more intense with each passing day. It made digging graves increasingly hard work, the ground solid and unyielding. Still, a line of gravestones sat outside in the doctor’s garden, decorating the path that led down to the bar.
“I don’t blame him,” Ethan remarked, rubbing his hands together and willing himself to warm up. “Even I sometimes think we should’ve stayed at home.”
“For what?” Stuart questioned, trying to stop his friend from spiraling into depression. “To die in a small village below an airport? Overlooked and forgotten about?”
“We would’ve been in our own homes, at least,” Ethan argued back. “Instead of waiting to die in a stranger’s town.”
“We’re not waiting to die,” Stuart declared. “We’re not giving up just because we’re the only ones left.”
Ethan sighed. “I just don’t see the point. There’s only enough food and water here to last us a limited time. The next town is miles away and we’ve no way of getting there. We can’t grow any crops and we certainly can’t melt the snow and drink that. Admit it. There’s a time limit on our existence here. We all know it. Maybe life will be easier if we just accept that. It seemed to work for the doctor in his final days.”
Stuart and Deb looked at one another, exchanging a glance that made them both feel anxious. Ethan was right. They both knew it; they were just trying not to admit it out loud or believe it. Nevertheless, it was true. There was no way the four of them could survive in Tanner for longer than a few months. They were in the process of going around all the houses and gathering food and water supplies from them, but it still wouldn’t be enough. Unless they found a source of clean water, none of them thought they would live to see Christmas.
“We can’t think like that,” Deb chastised Ethan. “Your son is upstairs. He’s just watched his friend die and he thinks that he could be next. Even if you don’t believe it yourself, you have to make him believe that he stands a chance of surviving. That little boy needs hope. And we have to give it to him.”
Ethan looked at Deb, truly listening to what she was saying. The woman was right. The main reason that he had left his home was to give Miles more of a chance of surviving. Even if his son couldn’t live forever, it was his job as a father to make him believe that he could. That was what Patrick had been doing for Allie. That man had traveled across half of the country in his attempt to get his daughter home, all to make the young girl feel safe.
“You’re right,” Ethan said to Deb. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Deb smiled. “We all have our down days. We just have to work together to pick each other up and remember that there is a future for us. It might be short, but it’s better than nothing. And who knows—this might all blow over in a couple of weeks. We just need to have hope. There’s nothing stronger.”
Pleased that her little pep talk had worked on Ethan, Deb excused herself from the room and went upstairs to her room. Corker bounced along beside her, the little dog still full of life and enthusiasm. It brought a smile to her face. Everyone said animals were clever, so if Corker still seemed happy, then that was enough to give Deb hope that things would work themselves out. She knew it was probably foolish, yet after having lost everything else in her life, she refused to lose her faith. Whether it was faith in herself or in some higher power, she wasn’t sure. She just knew she wouldn’t let herself be beaten. She wouldn’t give up. Even when all the odds seemed stacked against her, Deb was determined to keep going and not let herself crumble.
Waking the next morning, Deb knew another day of scavenging lay ahead of her. They were working through Tanner in a methodical manner, clearing full streets each day and cordoning off sections of the town that had been emptied out.
“Hey,” she smiled at Ethan and Miles as she walked into the kitchen. “Stuart not up yet?”
“He’s been down already,” Ethan replied. “Think he’s just getting dressed.”
“Fair,” Deb replied, grabbing herself a bowl and emptying some cereal into it. Adding some canned milk, she stirred the contents around for a few seconds to allow the cereal to get soggy, then scooped a large spoonful into her mouth. “You coming out with us today, Miles?” She asked between mouthfuls, addressing the young boy at the table and hoping he was in better spirits.
“Yeah,” Miles replied, shooting his dad a quick look before answering. Ethan nodded at his boy and smiled, the two of them clearly having shared a conversation last night after what Deb had told Ethan. She was glad of it. The four of them all had to live together; she was doing it for their relationship, but also for the benefit of herself and Stuart. None of them wanted an angsty preteen roaming around the house, even if his mood was completely justified.
“Morning,” Stuart announced himself, walking back into the kitchen with his boots on and his coat all buttoned up as well. “Are we ready to head out yet?”
“Jeez, was I late up or something?” Deb laughed. “I’ve not even had a chance to wash my face yet.”
The three men burst out laughing, the mood in the house definitely a lot more upbeat than it had been previously. None of them had forgotten what had happened—nor would they ever—and they all seemed to have come to the same conclusion about it. It was done: there was no point dwelling on the negative points or ruining the rest of their lives over it. People died, and they had to keep on living.
“It’s all right,” Stuart replied, “take your time. I was just up early this morning.”
“Okay,” Deb smiled, allowing herself to finish her breakfast at a suitable pace so she didn’t get indigestion. “I’ll be as quick as I can nonetheless.”
With water being rationed, washing herself and getting ready wasn’t exactly a long process for anyone anymore. Deb was back downstairs within minutes, prepared for the day of scavenging. Going through people’s houses was never an easy affair. It was necessary, but it was impossible to avoid thinking about the people who had lived there beforehand. Their ghosts were still fresh in the air, their scent lingering on the furniture as the group moved through the house gathering up old possessions. It was a difficult task, one they all knew had to be done.
Wrapping her scarf around her mouth, Deb tucked the folds away neatly so no dirt could sneak into her lungs when she went outside. Stuart, Ethan, and Miles were all already lined up by the front door, waiting for her.
“You need to stay here,” she whispered to Corker as the little dog jumped up and scratched at her legs, begging to join them. “It’s not safe outside.”
Looking up at her friends, Deb nodded to them and prepared herself for the treacherous weather outside once again. It was getting worse every single day, the air sharp and frigid, and the wind beyond extreme as it whipped past them. Stuart opened the door slowly, when the force of the wind threw it back in his face immediately, the gale charging into the house and spreading its icy talons over every surface. Deb lifted an arm over her face to protect her eyes from the sting, inching forward until she was fully outside with everyone else.
They tried to walk as quickly as possible to the next house on their list, everyone marching with their heads down and their arms wrapped around their bodies for warmth. It was difficult to see much farther than a few yards ahead of them, houses coming out of the dark cloud like shadows dancing on the wind. They seemed to move somehow, almost like the buildings were ghostlike. It was the density of the clouds—Deb was sure—and she could almost swear she saw silhouettes of people within the haze as well. Ghosts. Former residents of Tanner. It was spooky; Deb was unwilling t
o look twice in case she discovered it wasn’t just her mind playing tricks on her, but reality.
More bad thoughts circled through her head as they hurried down the road. Questions of whether it was all going to be worth it, whether what they were doing would be enough. There were plenty of resources in everyone’s houses in Tanner, and Deb still questioned how long it would all last. Eventually they would run out. How long would that take? Would it happen before or after things started to return to normal? Would that even ever happen?
The questions kept her up almost every night, plaguing her dreams with terror and doubt. Deb knew it had been right to leave her home in the first place; whether it was right to remain in Tanner was another question. A part of her thought they should’ve kept traveling, always on the run from the effects of the eruption. Deep down, Deb knew it would’ve caught up with them eventually, no matter which direction they decided to go.
The effects of the natural disaster were bigger than anything she could’ve imagined and there was no way of knowing if it was even survivable. Pushing her way into the next house on the street, Deb reminded herself that she just had to keep living for every day, as she had told Ethan the night before. They might not live forever, but her days had been limited since birth and that never stopped her before. Although everyone had a timeline on their life, that didn’t mean they should live by it.
Chapter 13
“Shh, darling,” Linda stroked her husband’s brow, mopping the sweat away with a cool, damp flannel. “It’s okay. Just breathe. Breathe.”
Stretched out on the couch in the front room—the uncomfortable leather one they hardly ever used in normal life—Jerry hacked and coughed, his lungs weakening inside him. Spittle and tiny flecks of blood flew out of his mouth as he coughed, landing on his shirt, the couch, and the carpet below. Linda didn’t bat an eyelid at that though, supporting her husband’s body with her arm and trying to soothe him in any way possible.