Aftermath [Book 2]

by J. S. Donovan

Naomi smiled at her with pity. “I want you to know that I’m not on anyone’s side. I just want everyone to be happy. We’re going through a rough transition and need a safe space. No one is forced to attend, but it’s what I’m good at, so I’d like anyone who can to attend. It only needs to last an hour.” Naomi gave a cheeky smile. “It will also give you an excuse to get out of work.”

  They went back inside. Allen gave Dean a hunting rifle in exchange for one of his pistols. Dean was happy to inspect the gun. Allen offered a similar trade to Conner for his shotgun. Conner refused. “Not giving up my baby. No offense, Allen.”

  Allen looked at him with an unreadable face. “None taken.”

  Allen also gave Dean a map of the area and circled a few spots with rich game. He asked him to clean whatever he brought back.

  Dean pursed his lips. “I hunt. I don’t skin.”

  “Then you don’t really hunt,” Allen said. “I’ll teach you. It’s important to make sure we aren’t eating poison. Anything that we can hunt is better than using our food stores.”

  Next, Allen directed Conner to his tool box. He told him to inspect the wall, seeing what needed to be fixed and repaired. After that, he doled out a task to Cathleen. They involved sweeping, washing clothes, cleaning the tubs, and making sure the house was tidy and orderly. He showed her where the spare sheets were and the pillows, giving her first dibs on everything. That cheered her up a little.

  Allen and Calvin brainstormed.

  Calvin got a few ideas. “Water’s limited, but we have snow. I can make rain catchers. It would work the same way. We can also fix the shed for extra cold storage of the meats.”

  “Start on the rain catchers first,” Allen said and left him by himself.

  Naomi led the girls out to the greenhouse. She checked out a botany book from Allen’s study and showed them the basics of gardening. Becca left halfway through the lesson to help Fergus to the bathroom.

  The next few days raced by. Allen worked them hard, and rationing was brutal. By day three, everyone’s stomach had shrunk. Nevertheless, everyone adapted to their roles. Dean would bring home bundles of squirrels, Conner would spend the early mornings sawing wood and the afternoons fortifying the walls with diagonal slats.

  Calvin used old tarp, sticks, and thick yarn to make the rain catchers. He set them up all around the house. Cathleen tidied up the house and then took long walks outside of the wall.

  The teenage girls learned quickly. Trinity caught on quicker than Becca. Naomi assigned them homework regarding seed types and edible berries. Most of these wouldn’t be relevant until springtime, but Naomi wanted them to be ready. As for herself, Naomi was happy to keep busy. It was the quiet moments during meals or lying in bed that her mind would wander to all the hardships she faced in Philly.

  Allen would wake up early in the morning to clean his modified AR-15. He’d spend the afternoon watching over the yard from his balcony. During the night, he’d spend time in his study, hunched over a book and enjoying the silence. Some days he read about survival habits. Other days, he burned through a classic like Moby Dick or Pride and Prejudice. Naomi teased him about it. For the first time in many years, she saw her brother look genuinely embarrassed.

  Naomi set therapy sessions. For the most part, people just talked about their jobs, their hunger, and other stuff everyone was going through. Naomi gave them the same advice she gave everyone: it was only for a season. Despite Allen’s heavy hand at leadership, Conner’s questioning nature, Cathleen’s bitterness, Dean’s creepiness, and Calvin’s distraction with work, things were going pretty alright. Well, everything but Fergus.

  The eighty-one-year-old man spent his days on the toilet and spent the night vomiting into a trash bucket. Dean moved out of the bedroom and slept on the living room couch. Conner, Cathleen, and Becca nursed Fergus whenever they got a chance. He burned through Naomi’s antibiotics quickly. By day seven, Becca adopted his cough. The next day she was bedridden. Both of their rooms smelled of sickness.

  On day nine, Conner’s drowsiness turned him into a complaining jerk. He would work on the fence with an angry scowl while clear snot leaked down his growing mustache. The sickness hit Cathleen next.

  Following a wretched sound, Naomi found Cathleen vomiting into the kitchen sink. Naomi got her a rag to wipe her mouth and pulled back Cathleen’s long hair. With teary, bloodshot eyes and a desperate expression, it was the first time Cathleen didn’t look like she wanted to kill her. Naomi led her back to her bedroom, where Becca was sweating profusely on the bottom bunk.

  Allen called for an emergency meeting that night. Fergus and Becca didn’t attend. Illuminated by a candle, they gathered around the table. The fire’s glow lapped on Allen’s hardened face. Deep lines branched out from the corner of his sorrowful yet alert eyes. He scanned those around the table. Naomi sat upright. Trinity slouched next to her with her hands in her lap. Calvin stood between them with a hand on the upper rim of each of their chairs.

  With his elbow on the table and his hand on his forehead, Conner sat at the head. He sniffled, looking utterly miserable. Cathleen, whose face was paler than death and shiny with sweat, sat next to him with a plastic bucket in her lap. Her body trembled lightly. She had no reason to be out of bed. Dean lingered in the back of the room. He rested his shoulder on the door frame of the living room and folded his hands over his lap. His chromatic revolver grabbed the candlelight. He looked at Cathleen with deep concern.

  Allen took a deep breath of disappointment. “The old man is a problem.”

  His bluntness stunned them.

  Conner leaned back, a heavy frown on his face. “He needs medicine.”

  Allen locked eyes with him. “He needs to be quarantined or sent away. There’s no other option.”

  Conner slammed his fist on the table and his eyes made daggers at Allen. “This is my father we’re talking about.”

  Cathleen wobbled back and forth. “Don’t you… have medicine? Naomi said you did.”

  Allen gave Naomi a sidelong glance she’d gotten uncomfortably familiar with before directing his attention to the sick woman. “No.”

  Dean glared at him. “You built this whole place and forgot medicine? I find that hard to believe.”

  Allen spoke clearly and objectively. “I never had time. The blast took me unexpected too.”

  “I’m sure it did,” Conner mumbled.

  Allen called him out. “You don’t believe me?”

  Conner didn’t reply.

  Allen looked out at them. “This old man is going to get us all sick if something is not done. If you don’t have a solution in twenty-four hours, I’m putting him outside.”

  The Ryans protested. “You can’t do that!”

  “He’s my father. What kind of sicko are you?”

  “Just give him more time. He needs more time.”

  Allen shut them up with a curt gesture. “I don’t care how you deal with it; I just want him dealt with.” Without turning back, he left the room.

  Conner looked to Naomi, half-desperate and half-angry. “You’re the one who has his ear. Tell him to change his mind.”

  “I want to help, but he has a point. The virus is spreading,” Naomi said with as much sympathy as she could.

  Calvin chimed in. “We’ll find a way, but it might be best to drop Fergus off at one of the neighboring houses until he’s better.”

  Cathleen shook her head in disbelief. “You’re just saying that because no one in your family is sick. If it were your daughter, would you send her away?”

  Calvin went quiet. Under the table, Naomi squeezed Trinity’s hand. “Not in a million years, but unless if we get some antibiotics…”

  Conner glared at her.

  Naomi answered his unanswered question. “Sorry about Allen’s lack of provision. I honestly thought he could help.”

  “Then we have to help ourselves,” Conner stated. He gestured at Dean. “Get the map.”

  Dean unfolded the map that Allen
had given him. There were a number of spots that were circled with Sharpie, with little doodles of squirrels and deer nearby. The crowd gathered around the map and began to look at the surrounding towns.

  Cathleen wobbled as if she were seconds away from passing out. “We’re going to have to go all the way out there?”

  “Get some rest,” Dean said. “We’ll care of this.”

  “No,” Cathleen barked. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

  That was the biggest lie Naomi had heard in a long time.

  Conner looked up from the map. He sniffled. “You know the area better than anyone around here. Any suggestions?”

  Naomi scanned over the area. She tapped her finger on a small town. “Madison. It’s only ten miles from here. They should have a pharmacy.”

  Cathleen coughed up mucus and spit it in the bucket. “Is there any way of knowing what Fergus has? What I have?”

  All eyes looked to Naomi. “I’m not that kind of doctor. We’re just going to get what we can and pray it works.”

  6

  Runner

  With his assault weapon slung over his shoulder, Allen watched from the balcony as Naomi, Calvin, Conner, and Dean loaded into the Land Rover. After ten days without driving, it felt strange to be back in the vehicle that got them out of Philly. The paint was scraped away and chipped. Bullet holes peppered the fender. The window was cracked. Calvin adjusted his glasses, waited a few moments for the vehicle to heat up, and then reversed out of the gate. Trinity waved them goodbye from the snow-covered greenhouse.

  They cruised down the winding dirt road. Leafless trees flanked them on both sides. The steel clouds leaked crumbs of snow across the earth and the Rover’s windshield. They pulled onto the main street, bombarded by the awe-inspiring sight of the Shenandoah Valley. Dressed in white, the mountain ridge stretched for as far as the eye could see. It was a place uncorrupted by the influences of man. A place where the EMP changed nothing. Naomi remembered her springtime hikes down the long dirt trails. She remembered the ways the bees danced and the wildflowers swayed in the wind.

  Calvin stayed on Grave Mills road. Oceans of hilly farmland extended on all sides. Strong stallions gathered in the stable, protecting the young pressed up close to them. Spotted cattle gathered in and around their barn. Like old sign posts, a rare, ancient tree stood in the lawn of some old house. Another bent over a frozen pond.

  Naomi held Calvin’s free hand as he steered. He gently caressed the top of her hand with his thumb. In the backseat, Conner rested his forehead against the window with his shotgun standing vertically between his legs. Dean rolled a .44 caliber bullet between his fingers. His noticed Naomi watching and stopped.

  They left Grave Mills, population 110, and cut through Wolftown, another tiny town with serene farms and homely cottages. White smoke wisped out of a nearby chimney. A flutter of hope touched Naomi heart as light as a butterfly’s kiss. She gave Calvin’s hand a gentle squeeze. If not for the chilling wind, Naomi would’ve rolled down the window and let the breeze wash over her. Instead, she was hit by waves of the sporadic heater that gave off a dry, dusty odor.

  The dreamy countryside soon fed into the town of Madison, Virginia. With long roads, distant buildings paralleling each other, and a grey sky ruling over the world, Madison seemed partially dreary. A random truck rested on the road; it seemed to be a casualty of the EMP.

  Calvin slowed down, twisting his head to the right as he examined the ghost town. They rolled to a stop in front of a small pharmacy building: it was square and simple in design with a drive-thru window.

  “I’ll stay with the car,” Dean said.

  “No, I’ll stay,” Calvin replied. “You’re better on the field.”

  Dean smirked. He pulled out a spare pistol and handed it up to Calvin, then smiled at him like sharks smile at prey. “Careful. It’s loaded.”

  Calvin gently rested the gun on his lap. He saw that as a bad idea and put it on his dashboard console. Naomi leaned over and gave him a kiss. “We’ll be back in a minute.”

  Grabbing his special 1981 Winchester Super X1 shotgun, Conner slipped out the back. He closed the door behind him, pulled out a handful of slugs from his pocket, and fed them into the weapon. Dean kept his large magnum holstered. Naomi went in unarmed. After spending nearly two weeks with these men, she trusted them enough to watch her back.

  As a pack, they dashed across the sidewalk, scanning their flanks and seeing nothing but falling snow and empty streets.

  The knob on the pharmacy door had been smashed off. Disheartened, they entered inside. They moved through the darkness. Rays of light streamed through the windows. Every shelf had been stripped bare, barring a few packets of candy and pretzels. Dean picked up the gummy worms and started to dig in. He offered some to Naomi. She accepted and scrunched her face at the sour taste.

  Conner moved ahead. “Hello?” His voice echoed through the dark pharmacy.

  The darkness grew denser the farther they moved in. Eventually, they reached the counter. The register had been smashed open. By the large circular-shaped dents, it looked like the work of a sledgehammer. The employee’s door was locked, so Dean rolled over the counter to reach the other side. Naomi and Conner simply crawled over. Naomi lit a tall candle she’d brought with her and let the fire’s glow illuminate all the empty shelves and cubbies.

  Conner opened drawers and checked shelves. His movements became more jerky and quick the longer he looked. After a moment, he was pulling out entire shelves and slinging them to the ground. He cursed loudly and turned to Naomi. “There’s nothing here.”

  Dean dispassionately kept checking drawers.

  Naomi pinched the bridge of her nose. “Maybe we can ask some of the town’s folk.”

  “Or we could drive to another town,” Conner said.

  Naomi felt herself tense up. “We only have so much gas.”

  “This is my father were talking about. And my sister-in-law. And my niece,” Conner said, face blood red with rage. “I’m not going back home without medicine.”

  “I agree,” Naomi defended her stance. “We’ll check with the locals. Maybe they’d be willing to trade.”

  “I’m not give up my gun either,” Conner said rebelliously.

  Naomi’s mouth made a line on her face. She said nothing as she crossed over the counter. Conner and Dean followed after a moment. They headed down the street, telling Calvin to park behind the pharmacy. He did so and joined them, holding car keys and the handgun. They moved down Madison, knocking on every door they found.

  No replies. The place was a ghost town.

  It was three houses down when Dean decided to spontaneously kick in the front door. Naomi felt her blood pressure spike. “What are you doing?”

  “Finding medicine,” he said casually as he stepped inside. Conner shrugged at Naomi’s dropped jaw and slipped inside.

  Breaking into the rest stop felt like one thing, but this was someone’s home. Family photos lined the wall of a young couple with two little girls below the age of six. Naomi found toys on the living floor and the fridge door open.

  “Whoever lived here left in a hurry,” Naomi pointed out.

  Dean opened up the pantry. It had been ransacked. They checked behind the bathroom mirror and the cupboards near the stove but found no medicine

  They left the house after Dean raided the sock and underwear drawer. Naomi did not partake in the loot. She couldn’t shake the inky feeling that she was committing a horrendous crime. The feeling only got worse as the Ryan brothers broke into three more houses. The people who lived there were all gone, seeming to have left in a hurry or have been ransacked by someone before. Every medicine cabinet was empty. Dean had a whole trash bag full of socks, underwear, and other clothing slung over his shoulder. Conner had joined them, though not as much. Dean took an occasional trinket and added it to his bag. They moved down the street, skipping over restaurants and wondering if they should just try another town. Naomi was half-ready to give up
when Conner said, “Everyone, get cover.”

  Naomi didn’t have time to question it. She ducked behind the nearest disabled car. Dean vanished behind the side of a house. Conner crouched next to a minivan parallel to Naomi. He kept his shotgun close to his chest with one hand on the pump and other on the trigger.

  Someone whistled.

  Naomi and Conner exchanged worried looks. He flipped off the safety on his shotgun.

  Naomi craned her head around the side of the vehicle, getting a glimpse of the stranger. He wore a grey beanie, heavy black jacket, knuckle gloves, and old boots. Long red hair streamed out the sides of his beanie and around his pale face. He was short for a man, perhaps five foot six inches tall. His baggy clothes hid his skinny physique.

  Walking down the yellow line of the road, he pushed a shopping cart full of gardening tools, hammers, food, and other random assortment of useful items. Sideways snow cascaded by him as he continued his leisurely stroll. From behind the nearby house, Dean kept his eyes locked on the unsuspecting man and started to draw out his revolver. The man would be passing by within the minute.

  Naomi’s heart rate quickened. She didn’t want this to end with bloodshed, but she also didn’t want the man to run away. She needed to get the drop on him.

  Naomi took a breath and began to rise.

  Conner gawked at her. “Naomi. No,” he whispered.

  She did so anyways. She stood up, hands in the air and her body still behind the cover the car. She stared at the man and he stared back. They stood completely still, not taking their eyes off each other. The man looked like frightened deer, ready to run off at any moment.

  “Hi,” Naomi said slowly with a friendly smile.

  The man’s eyes shot wide open.

  “Where is everybody?” Naomi asked.

  The man glanced around nervously. He swallowed hard, jostling his bulging Adam’s apple.

  “I’m Naomi,” Naomi said gently. “Who are you?”

  “Um, Lance,” the man mumbled. His lip twitched slightly.

  “Good to meet you, Lance,” Naomi said. “Can you tell me where everyone went?”