The Last Orphans

by N. W. Harris

  “Okay, okay.” Shane cut the excited boy off. “I think we get the point. The world is going to go to hell in a hurry. So that brings us back to our problem—what should we do?”

  “I think we should head south, toward Atlanta,” Steve Thompson said, running his big hand over his short-cropped brown hair and then crossing his thick arms over his chest. He was a linebacker and the youngest player on the varsity football team. “There are a lot more people than animals in the city. There has to be some adults still alive down there.”

  “Yeah, but there are also a lot more chemical plants and rotting bodies. Which means more disease and poisonous gas leaks,” Billy noted with a meek tone.

  “Well, quit being a naysayer and think of something better,” Steve replied, glaring at Billy with a look of disgust.

  Billy took a step back and lowered his head, as if he wanted to disappear into the shadows.

  “I think Steve is right,” Tracy Cyrus announced firmly. She was as tall as Shane was and had a short, blonde crew cut. Tracy never had a boyfriend, and rumor had it she liked girls, but she was so tough that no one dared to pick on her. “We should try to make it to Dobbins Air Force Base. My dad is on duty down there. The military will know what to do, and they can protect us.” Being the commander of the JROTC program at the school, Tracy had poise and confidence that Shane respected and knew would be helpful.

  “Okay,” Shane replied, feeling a little less like the burden of leadership was all on his shoulders. “Those are some good ideas. Anyone got anything else?”

  The kids glanced at each other for a moment, but none spoke up.

  “Well then, I guess we have two options. We stay here and wait for help, or we head south and try to go to the military base.” Shane asked the kids to raise their hands for a vote. Just over half wanted to head south.

  “So it’s settled.” Steve sounded tired of all the talking. “What should we use for transportation? I don’t think we want to be spread out in a bunch of different cars.”

  “School buses,” Matt answered. “There are plenty parked out back. And I bet anything the keys are in the office.” Being the shortest kid in the eleventh grade, Matt looked much younger than the others did. But having wrestled around with him a lot when they were little, Shane knew not to underestimate the nerdy boy who wore old school round-rimmed glasses.

  “We should probably make sure they’re fueled up, and maybe even put some extra fuel and water in tanks to carry along before the power goes out,” Billy said. He’d slipped around the group so a few people were between him and Steve, but he still sounded on edge and gave a nervous glance toward the big guy when he spoke. “The pumps won’t work without electricity, so it’ll be hard to get gas. And the water will quickly stop flowing and become too contaminated to drink.”

  “I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight anyway, so I’ll take one of the buses up to the gas station and get fuel,” Shane said.

  “I’ll drive another bus,” Aaron volunteered, looking a little excited about getting behind the wheel of such a large vehicle.

  “How many do we need?” Kelly asked.

  “Three should do it,” answered Tracy decisively. “Two will carry everybody here, and we can load the third with extra fuel and food. The hardware store should have some jerry cans we can use for fuel and water. I’ll drive the third one.”

  “You might want to grab all the weapons you see while you’re there,” Laura said, slipping out from behind the others like a dark ghost. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we ran into some trouble down closer to Atlanta. If there are no police around to keep criminals in check, things could get crazy.”

  “Good idea,” Shane said. “Thanks, Laura.” Because of her quiet nature and the fact that she’d moved to town from the city just a year ago, Shane guessed most kids didn’t realize she was one of the smartest kids in the school. He felt somewhat comforted knowing her brains were on their side.

  “Kelly will come with me. Matt, you go with Tracy, and Steve, you help Aaron. We’ll drive up to the hardware store and then get fuel.” Shane scanned the kids’ faces. They all seemed eager for an assignment. “Billy, go to the computer lab and search the internet to try and figure out what is going on. The rest of you gather all the food out of the cafeteria that doesn’t need to be in a fridge. When we return, we’ll load it into bus number three.”

  “Also, grab any blankets, jackets, first aid kits, and other supplies that might come in handy,” Tracy added.

  “Alright, let’s make it happen,” Steve said, clapping his hands like the team did when they broke huddle on the football field. The ritual felt awkward, and he got a few crinkled brow glances from the kids surrounding him, but then the group split up and everybody headed off to their assignments.

  Using a fire extinguisher and more aggression than necessary, Steve broke out the window to the main office of the high school. Shane boosted Matt in and as predicted, the keys hung on the back of a closet door behind the principal’s desk.

  “There’s at least twenty sets in here,” Matt called out. “Which do I pick?”

  “Grab the newest ones,” Shane answered. “They should say Freightliner on them.”

  The school had purchased several new buses over the summer, and he knew choosing them would limit the chance of any mechanical problems.

  Matt unlocked the office door from the inside and stepped out, dangling three sets of keys with numbered, red plastic labels hanging from them. He handed one to Shane, and Steve snatched another out of Matt’s hand. Glaring at Steve, Matt gave the last key to Aaron. Tracy stuck her open hand out at Steve, staring at him impassively until he grumbled and surrendered his key to her.

  They walked down the long, dark hall of the school leading from the main office to the back parking lot. Their footsteps echoed off the high ceilings and the gray, metal lockers, and everyone seemed to be in sullen contemplation as they walked. Having not been used since the prior school year, the floor was waxed to a high sheen, and Shane could see his reflection in it, even with the limited light.

  Pushing through the double doors at the end of the hallway, they got a view of the buses lined up in the back parking lot. He scanned the rows of yellow vehicles and spotted the shiny, new Freightliners on the far left side. Leading his friends to the modern, aerodynamic-looking school buses, he pushed the door in on the first one and climbed up its steps, settling into the cushy, green seat behind the wheel. Everyone else crowded in and leaned over him, eager to learn how to operate the big machines. Shane quickly showed them how to start the bus and explained all the controls and gauges.

  “How the heck do you know all this?” Aaron asked, a bit of awe in his eyes as he gazed over the dashboard.

  “My dad has a contract with the school to do all the maintenance on the buses. He taught me how to drive them when I worked at the shop over the summer. Luckily, they’re automatics, so they’re pretty easy.” Shane’s voice cracked as he spoke. He didn’t know for sure his dad was dead, but the chances were slim he was still alive.

  “Oh yeah,” Aaron replied, his voice quiet like he sensed Shane’s thoughts.

  In the dim light from the security lamps at the back of the school, Shane could see Aaron’s brow wrinkle. He reckoned he must be thinking about his own parents, and he felt like a total jerk for lying about his mother. He knew he’d have to remedy that soon—it wouldn’t be right to keep the truth from his friend forever, but he had no idea how he’d muster the courage to tell him.

  “Everybody cool with driving the buses?” Shane asked, clearing his throat and trying to keep his focus.

  His friends nodded.

  “I’ll lead the way up to Main Street,” he said. “We’d better hurry—it smells like it’s about to rain.” He looked up at the sky and couldn’t see any stars or the moon, but at least the lightning had stopped for the moment.

  Aaron, Tracy, Matt, and Steve filed out of the bus and climbed into theirs. Kelly settled in the seat
behind Shane. The diesel engines roared to life one by one. Shane maneuvered his bus out of the parking lot, glancing in the mirrors to make sure everyone managed to get their buses rolling. He led the way up the hill on a narrow, tree-lined side road with fewer accidents on it than highway 72. They came out on the east end of Main Street, right next to what everyone in town called the hardware store but was more of a general supply store, carrying everything from animal feed and coveralls to toilets and hunting supplies. The front doors lay inside in a pile of broken glass, and merchandize littered the entry area. The two other buses pulled in next to Shane’s, airbrakes hissing as they came to a rest.

  “Looks like someone beat us here,” Tracy observed, climbing out of her bus. She put her thumbs through the loopholes of her blue jeans and pulled them up, a look of determination crossing her face as she studied the building. Shane had never seen her wear anything but blue jeans, an army green T-shirt, and paratrooper boots, except on the days when she wore her JROTC uniform.

  “That means there’s another group running around,” Aaron added, scanning the area like he expected to spot them.

  “Shouldn’t we try to find them?” Kelly asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Tracy replied, entering the dark building. “I think we should stick to our plan. At this point, we have enough people to worry about.”

  Tracy sounded a bit heartless, but her logic made sense. Thinking about the kids, sleeping back at the gym, whom they were already responsible for, stressed him out enough. The children in the gym, teenagers and youngsters, could only be a fraction of the kids in town. Worse, there were probably infants in cribs all across Leeville, screaming for their mothers and dying from thirst. What was Shane supposed to do, go door to door and gather all the children incapable of caring for themselves? And if he did, how would he tend to them? Nausea erupted in his gut, the anxiety stirred up by his concern making him ill.

  “We’ll go to the military base and then send help for everyone else,” Shane answered his own questions with trembling resolve, looking at his friends for approval.

  No one answered, apparently happy to let the burden of this decision rest on his shoulders. They stared at him for a long moment, their eyes wide with the trauma they’d experienced over the last few hours. They looked so young, hardly old enough to take care of themselves. As horrible as it was to ignore the other children stranded throughout town, Shane knew his friends were already being pushed to the edge of breaking. They couldn’t handle any more responsibility at the moment, and neither could he.

  Matt grabbed a shopping cart and a flashlight from a rack near the front doors. Shane and the others followed suit, and they worked their way through the dark store, loading everything of any possible use into their carts. They found plenty of jerry cans for extra fuel and water, pouches of freeze-dried food that could be eaten in an emergency, and camping gear, though Shane hoped they would make it to the military base in a few hours and wouldn’t need most of the stuff. He found pants and a T-shirt and finally got out of the Sunday clothes he’d been wearing since Granny’s funeral that morning. He sighed with relief, slipping his tired and blistered feet into a pair of soft, padded hiking boots. His mood lifted when he stood.

  Aaron made it to the back of the store first. “This is not good,” he announced.

  “What?” Tracy asked.

  “All the guns are gone.”

  “No freaking way,” Shane gasped, looking at the empty rack behind the counter. The glass doors the guns were usually locked behind lay in shards on the floor. The display case where the bullets were kept was busted open and cleaned out.

  “Must have been whoever got here first,” Aaron mused, sounding frustrated. “Greedy as all get out. They could’ve at least left us a rifle or two.”

  “They didn’t touch the archery section,” Kelly called from the far right side of the gun counter.

  Aaron perked up, and they all rushed through the ransacked gun area toward Kelly, like they worried someone else might run in and claim the weapons before they could get to them. The beams of their flashlights found a plethora of compound bows, crossbows, and arrows hanging on the wall and in empty whiskey barrels at the end of the aisles.

  “I deer hunt with these,” Aaron said, picking up an arrow with a triangular, black razorblade at its tip.

  “Hey, it’s better than nothing,” Shane said.

  “The good thing is, as long as we retrieve our arrows, we’ll never run out of ammo,” Tracy added, climbing onto the counter and taking a camouflaged crossbow with a scope mounted on it off the wall. Her eyes gleamed as she flipped it over in her hands. It had to be the most expensive weapon in that part of the store, the kind everyone would admire but few could afford. All the weapons in the corner had lethality in common. They looked badass, but Shane was nervous to think he might have to use one.

  “Let’s load ‘em up.” Shane grabbed an armful of bows and balanced them atop his piled-high cart, and then hung more over his shoulders. They felt foreign and uncomfortable in his hands. He was one of the few boys in town who never hunted, an embarrassing secret he hid from his friends. Hunting was a rite of passage in Leeville. It wasn’t that he never had the opportunity—it was just he couldn’t stand the idea of killing, so he’d always found an excuse not to go. The weapons and Tracy and Aaron’s enthusiasm made him uncomfortable, but he relished the notion of facing down a bunch of wild dogs or charging cattle with his bare hands even less.

  They made several trips in and out of the store, packing the third bus full. Tracy organized the supplies, shouting orders in an annoying and near condescending way the entire time. At least the work took Shane’s mind off the horrors he’d seen that day. The jerry cans went in last, with Tracy using a black marker to label some for diesel and some for water. When they finished, sweat dripped off everyone’s face and Shane’s arms ached.

  They took the buses across the street to the gas station and filled them up. The doors to the convenient store were unlocked and the lights were on. Shane entered, fearing he’d find the attendant dead behind the counter. To his relief, no one was inside. Shane retrieved some sports drinks for everyone from the cooler. Thinking about taking the school buses, cleaning out the hardware store, and now breaking into the gas station, he felt a sudden flash of shame. They were doing it to survive, and nobody was around to take money anyway, but all the same, it was thievery in a sense. The moment passed, and he almost laughed at his absurdness.

  “We need to distribute the weapons between the buses evenly, so we can defend ourselves if we are attacked by the animals, or worse, people looking for a target,” Tracy suggested. She lifted the last of the fueled-up jerry cans into the bus and accepted a sports drink from Shane.

  “You should probably be in charge of that, and Aaron can help you find people who can shoot,” Shane said, passing drinks out to everyone else. He picked up a bow and slung it over his shoulder, not sure if he’d be effective with it. Although he didn’t like the idea of shooting at someone, he sure as heck wasn’t going to allow anyone near him to be harmed. He’d seen enough of that.

  “The bus drivers should have crossbows,” Aaron said, handing one to Shane and taking his bow. “These babies can be left cocked and loaded so you can use them in a hurry if need be.”

  “How do you get a new arrow in it once it’s been shot?” Shane asked, liking the simple point-and-shoot ability of the crossbow better, though he always thought of crossbows as outdated wooden weapons from the middle ages. This one however, had a carbon-fiber frame and a scope on it like a high-powered sniper rifle.

  “They ain’t called arrows,” Aaron replied, demonstrating how to load one. “With crossbows, the projectiles are called bolts.”

  “Try not to sound like you’re enjoying this so much,” Kelly scoffed, dropping the end of a hose next to the water cans and walking back over to the spigot to turn it on.

  “Hey, you have to admit—they are kinda sexy,” Aaron called after
her.

  Shane felt a smile creep across his face. Everyone had been so depressed and down to business, it refreshed him to hear Aaron acting like his normal comedic self. For the first time, he felt like maybe they had a chance, that maybe they could all get through this if they stuck together and used their heads.

  “Let’s get this convoy back down to the school and try to get some rest,” Tracy said in the slightly condescending way in which she always spoke. All the buses were fueled up, and the water cans were loaded. “It’ll be easier to drive to Atlanta if we wait ’til the morning.”

  Although Shane suspected no one cared to have Tracy barking orders at them, everyone obeyed, climbing into the buses and looking too tired to respond. The diesels rumbled to life. They pulled out of the gas station one at a time, swerving around the body of a woman who lay dead in the street. Her neck was missing a huge chunk where her windpipe should be. Shivering at the thought of how bad it must’ve hurt to be killed that way, Shane wondered what kind of animal had attacked the poor woman. She wore a torn, flowery sundress and one shoe, and Shane guessed she’d lost the other one while being chased down by the animal like prey. He couldn’t imagine a worse way to die.

  Aaron put bolts on several more crossbows and stacked them on the front seats while Shane drove. This time, Kelly rode with Steve in the other passenger bus, and Tracy and Matt took the supply bus. Shane realized he felt more depressed in Kelly’s absence. By needing him, she’d pulled him out of the numbness that sunk in after his aunt died and gave him a reason to keep going. If Kelly hadn’t come up the driveway asking for his help, he might’ve just lay down in the road and waited for death.