SUNFALL: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Fiction Series: Book 2: ADVENT

by D. Gideon

  “And then how would you eat? It’d be a shame, a man who loves to eat as much as you do, without any hands to put the food in his mouth,” Dotty teased.

  “You ever seen a pie-eating contest? Where they tie your hands behind your back? That’s what I’d be doing,” Teddy said, and the group broke into chuckles. He sat back, smiling. Mission accomplished.

  They hadn’t eaten, even though Betty had urged them to. They couldn’t take food from someone who needed it, knowing they had some at home. They sat in a row of metal chairs against the wall by the entryway, waiting for Simon and Bill to make their announcements.

  When they’d first stepped into the hall, all they’d been able to smell was the food. But as more and more people filled the tables and crowded in line, the stink of unwashed bodies took over. They’d been standing near the kitchen, trying to stay out of the way. As the sour odor of sweat filled the hall, Dotty insisted they move back by the open door. No one had argued. Even with the rain making everything feel damp, the air coming in was fresh.

  Dotty tapped a rolled-up sheaf of papers against her leg and resisted the urge to read through them again. It was a copy of every page the Sheriff had promised, covering both what Mayor Wilhelm had announced and a number of things he’d chosen to leave out. Bill had been right; she didn’t like the sound of any of it. The papers had been waiting when Betty opened the doors, lined up on the first dining table in neat little stacks. Simon had used a good amount of the prison’s copy paper getting them all done. Now there were only a handful left in each stack. Loud clapping broke Dotty from her musing, and drew everyone’s attention to the front of the hall.

  “Ahoy mateys! I’ve hidden a treasure somewhere in the church,” Betty announced, her smile big and genuine. She wore a battered pirate’s hat and a little plastic eye patch. Next to her was Angel, a slim girl of about sixteen that often volunteered in the Bible Study rooms. “It’s a chest full of cookies! Who among us is brave enough to go on a quest for the treasure?”

  Immediately all of the children bounced in their seats, raising their hands and calling out.

  “Arrgh, I see many a young pirate willing to risk life and limb to hold the treasure! But to be the best pirate, you have to pass three tests.” She held up a finger. “One: you have to be shorter than me. The Mad Pirate Betty will be the tallest on this ship!”

  This caused a round of chuckles from the adults, and mad giggling from the children. Betty was always the shortest adult in the room. Even Dotty was a bit taller than her.

  “Two: you have to put your plates, cups, and silverware into the trash cans. Pirates have to keep a clean ship!”

  There was a sudden flurry of activity as the kids scrambled to gather up their styrofoam plates and plastic cups from dinner and stuff them into the big trash cans set on the side walls. Betty waited until they finished, then raised her arms.

  “Three: and this is the hardest part…you have to beat me to the treasure! Muahahaha!” She scampered through the doors leading into the church lobby, and all of the children, yelling and laughing, stampeded after her. Angel ran to the side of a child in a wheelchair and spun her around, quickly pushing her after the group as the little girl squealed in delight. In seconds, all of the children were gone. The adults laughed and applauded. Father Bill stood up from the table near the kitchen, where he’d been talking with Simon and Bishop Sorenson.

  “Brothers and Sisters, thank you for coming tonight and letting us help you in this small way,” he began. “Thank you, Bishop Sorenson, for helping to provide food and water; even though it looks like the good Lord has seen fit to give us all some help on that front.” There were more chuckles, and he went on. “I hope you all have rain barrels or buckets outside to catch this gift. If you don’t know how to catch water, we’re having a workshop here tomorrow morning at eight. Lily Miller will be showing everyone how to use their house’s gutters and their city trash cans to make rain barrels. Give us a wave, Lily, so folks can see who you are.”

  Dotty started the applause this time as Lily blushed and raised her hand.

  “Now the Sheriff and I have been working together for a long time,” Bill said, “since back when he was officially Warden of the Federal Prison. I know this man, and I trust him. I trust his judgment. We’ve spent many hours discussing the things he’ll present to you tonight, and I want you to know that I am fully in support of this, and I’ll be doing whatever I can to help him. I urge you to think on it and pray on it, and I hope to see you all here tomorrow morning. Sheriff?”

  The Sheriff got up to stand next to Bill and blew out a breath.

  “Folks, we’ve got a lot of decisions to make. The first, do we believe what Ms. Stapleton told us about the power, or do we believe the Mayor? I’ve asked myself why Ms. Stapleton would have a reason to lie, and honestly, I can’t come up with anything. When Undersheriff…well, former Undersheriff Stalls met with Ms. Stapleton at Dominion Power, she was stocking her car with food, toilet paper…anything she thought she and her family would need for a long, long time without power. She believed what she was telling us.”

  He looked out across the crowd and shook his head. “Then I asked myself why The Mayor would have a reason to lie, and there are a number of reasons. The biggest one is that it keeps you following his suggestions. It keeps him in power. You can see from the papers that are available by the back door that the Mayor came back from Annapolis with a new title and new powers. Powers you didn’t vote to give him. And that’s enough for me to believe that he’s lying to us for his own gain. You each have to decide for yourselves who to believe, and also ask yourselves what he might have to gain with this shelter situation.”

  He waited for someone to challenge him, or speak up in defense of the Mayor, but no one did. He cleared his throat.

  “The one thing we do know is true is that prisoners are already being released. We’ve verified that at least three busloads were let go outside of Salisbury.”

  “What about the ones in the Federal Prison right here in town, Sheriff? Are you going to just open the gates and let them walk out?” Cathy asked from the front of the room.

  “No ma’am,” Simon said. “I’ve already begun releasing the non-violent prisoners, and we’ve been taking them all over to Annapolis and offloading them right at the Governor’s doorstep. The fourth bus load should be leaving…” he looked at his watch. “Any minute now.” He continued quickly before anyone could think to ask about the violent prisoners.

  “We have no way of knowing whether or not a Warden from another county, or even another state, might decide to drop off their prisoners near Snow Hill. So that’s a danger to each of us that we need to consider. Another danger is the people who have been looting each night. It’s likely that as this situation drags on, they’ll get more confident, and graduate to more violent behavior. And of course, there’s still the problem of travelers walking into town, people who are already in a desperate situation, and therefore unpredictable.”

  “But you’ve got roadblocks set up,” Cathy said. “I had to go through one just yesterday. How are they going to get into town?”

  “By continuing to walk down the highway until they’re out of sight of my deputies, and then walking through the woods,” Simon said. “We can’t put a chain of bodies around the entire town boundary. There just aren’t enough deputies. And to that end, I’d first like to ask for everyone to think about volunteering to work with us. Come up and talk to me here tonight after we’re finished, or come see me tomorrow morning. I’ll be back here.”

  He looked over to Bill, who held up a finger.

  “Before Brother Simon goes any further, I want to remind you of what it will be like if the power is out for years, or even for six months. You’ll need help safeguarding your homes. You’ll need labor to help you cut wood for the winter, do tasks to keep your family healthy-”

  “Like digging an outhouse,” Seth put in.

  Bill nodded. “Like digging an outhouse, o
r even just a latrine pit, like we used to do in the military. You might decide you need help to dig a garden, or even just hauling water from the river. These things all take a lot of labor to do, and not all of us are as young and able as we used to be.”

  “So you’re saying we should bunk up together?" a man asked. “Share a house, share the labor?”

  “That would actually be a good idea, especially come winter,” Bill said. “It’s easier to heat one house than two. That’s something to consider.”

  “I do have a group of people that are strong, and willing to help,” Simon said. “Whether that means helping you cut wood, or keeping an eye out on the street to stop trouble before it starts. I’ve had a good talk with each of them. They’ve agreed to stay here, and help me keep Snow Hill safe. But they’re in need of homes.”

  “Just a room to call their own,” Bill put in. “Most of us here in Snow Hill have a guest room that hardly ever gets used. You could be putting that room to good use, and helping your family out in the process. And I want to stress that I know these men and women. I’ve talked with them, had Bible Study with them; I’ve even gardened with them, for years.”

  Simon nodded and continued. “I’ll have them here, tomorrow morning from 8am to 2pm, so you can come meet them yourselves and talk to them. See if you hit it off with them. And, if you do, it’s my hope that some of you will open your home to them. They would be extremely grateful, and with the Guard coming to hand out food, they shouldn’t put any extra strain on what’s left in your pantries.”

  “What about those of us that are stranded here?" a dark-skinned woman asked. “I’ve been sleeping in my car with my toddlers. Until I can get gas, or a ride home, I’d be willing to trade some labor for a room. Maybe an older couple that wouldn’t mind having two little kids around?” She looked around the room, eyes hopeful. Other people were nodding, and raising their hands with calls of me too.

  “You come here tomorrow morning too,” Bill said. “In fact, anyone that’s stranded and willing to do the same, be here in the morning. We’ll do our best to help match you up with townspeople that can use some help. We can call it the New Home program.”

  “So you don’t mean the travelers, then,” Teddy called out. “Who are these people that you’re talking ‘bout, Sheriff?”

  Bill put a hand on Simon’s shoulder, and Simon blew out a deep breath.

  “Well,” he said. “They’re all people I’ve known for a long time, from back when I was Warden. They’re some of my long-term prisoners.”

  Chapter 41

  Friday, September 7th

  Salisbury, Maryland

  When I woke, Marco said he’d expected me to be livid. We were in a really nice room, except it was missing what obviously was supposed to be a flat-screen tv in an alcove on the wall. I was stretched out on one of two leather couches in nothing but my bra and panties, with someone’s business shirts as cover, and I had no freaking clue where we were. With the weak light filtering in around the curtains, I assumed it was a few hours after we left the pet store. I must have gotten so feverish that he’d decided to hide us, although where was a good question. We probably had only lost an hour or so of traveling.

  When he told me it was the next morning, I was shocked, but frankly I was too frigging confused to be angry.

  “I woke you up yesterday at six, and again this morning at two, to give you your antibiotic pills,” Marco said. “You don’t remember?”

  “No,” I said. “I must have still been half-asleep.” I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and pulled on a dress shirt. Hearing me, King came into the room and thrust his head into my lap, stub wiggling.

  “You were awake enough to drink some chicken noodle soup,” Marco said.

  “Did I say anything?” I was worried that I might have voiced some of what had been going through my mind, about becoming a monster. He shook his head.

  “Not much. ‘Thank you’, ‘I’m tired’, and some stuff I didn’t understand.” He held a hand to my forehead and relaxed a bit. “I think your fever has broken. Do you want to try walking around and see how you feel? Maybe wash up? I can heat up the last of Faye’s soup.”

  “Sure,” I said, and pushed myself up from the couch. Reality swam a bit and I wobbled, taking Marco’s arm. Standing made me realize how stiff I was, and how badly I ached. When things steadied out, I shuffled my way down two small steps into a well-appointed kitchenette and blinked.

  “If it weren’t for the stuff all over the floor, this would be really nice,” I said, nudging a pile of utensils with my toe. It looked like all of the drawers and cabinets had been dumped onto the floor. There was a small path cleared through the debris leading further into the trailer.

  “It was like this when I found it. I just pushed stuff out of the way so I could walk,” Marco said, moving over to the range and picking up Faye’s coffee pot. “The bathroom’s back there on the left.”

  I followed the trail of cleared-off carpeting into the hallway and peeked into a door on the right. It was a guest bedroom with a set of bunk beds. The mattresses were gone, leaving a bare sheet of plywood showing. Marco had put the bike trailer in here, with all of our bags on the lower bed support. Moving further into the hallway past a stacked washer and dryer, I found the master bedroom. Again, the mattress was completely gone, and everything from the drawers and closets had been dumped onto the floor and bed board. There were suits, casual business clothing, and an outfit for skiing. Books and magazines littered the floor. Cables sticking out of the wall told me there had been a television here, too. I shook my head at the idiocy of it all and made my way back to the bathroom.

  It was nearly as large as the guest bedroom, with a separate tub and corner shower. I heard scratching and opened the shower door to find the rabbits, some happily stretched out and one munching on a handful of hay. The slanted floor gathered their droppings in the drain, and Marco had found a shallow, wide, Pyrex bowl to hold some water. He’d apparently been busy while I was zonked out.

  I gave thanks that camper toilets didn’t need water to flush, contributed what I could to the black water tank, and turned to the mirror over the sink.

  I looked like crap. My skin was a sickly color, and the bruising around my eye had turned a disgusting yellowish-purple. The cuts across my face from the bird shot had scabbed over. Moving my hair, I peeled off the Band-Aids and winced. Those hadn’t fared so well. A couple were crusty and looked like they’d been leaking pus. I slid the shirt off of my shoulder and found the same case there. There was a brief moment of wishing I’d bought more bottles of antibiotics instead of the rabbits, but it was a toss-up either way. Both could end up saving our lives, both would be in high demand and hard to find in a few months. While each bottle of antibiotics might help one person, the rabbits could feed my whole family for years to come. If none of us got sick.

  I came back out of the bathroom dabbing a washrag at my shot wounds. Cleaning up had made some of them start bleeding again. Marco pointed at a small table where a bowl of soup sat steaming, four ibuprofen were laid out, and the antibiotic ointment and Band-Aids from my pack waited.

  “Take the medicine and eat. I’ll cover you in goo,” he said, a bit of his old smirk playing on his lips.

  The smell of the soup made me realize I was starving. I sipped at the broth and the paltry noodles while he played nurse.

  “How did you heat this up?” I asked.

  “There’s propane in the tanks, so the stove still works,” he said. “Your next pill is at ten. You should go back to sleep until then.”

  “Don’t start,” I said. “We’ve lost too much time. We need to put the stuff back in the trailer and go.”

  “Ripley, it’s obvious you need to keep resting. We know we’re not going to catch up to Corey and Mel. They have bicycles.”

  “We could have been home already. We should have been home already. If we had just left sooner-”

  “We stayed to help Josh, thinking we could help h
im get home. That was the right thing to do. Then we were forced to stay longer by Agent Perkins. We couldn’t help that. We’re nearly there, Ripley. Another few hours won’t hurt.”

  “Nearly there isn’t there. I need to be home. We have no idea what my parents and Grams are going through. They might need us.”

  Finished with patching me up, he moved to the padded bench on the other side of the table and shook his head. “You’re sick. If you push yourself, you’ll only make it worse.”

  “Then I won’t push it. Moving slowly is better than not moving at all. I’ll finish eating, get dressed, and we’ll go.”

  He frowned, but didn’t argue the point. After a moment he sighed and got up, heading into the back of the camper. He came back past me carrying the bike trailer.

  “At least take your time while I pack this back up,” he said, and maneuvered the unwieldy thing out of the door. King trotted to the door but didn’t make it in time, so I got up and opened the door to let him out.

  Marco had a bundle of white and red cloth in his hands, and hastily shoved it under into a wheel well as I leaned out.

  “What’s that?” I asked, pointing.

  “Nothing important,” Marco said, moving to block my view, and popping open the tent on the bike trailer.

  “It looked like blood.”

  “It was, but it’s taken care of. Go rest, Ripley. Getting everything fit back into here will take me a bit.”

  “You want to tell me what happened while I was passed out all night?”

  “Nothing important,” he repeated, straightening and putting his foot on the bottom step. I moved back into the camper to let him by. He stepped into the kitchenette and turned to me, watching to see if I’d go out after the bundle.

  I stared at him, studying the look on his face. Finally, I sighed and let the door shut.

  “Were you hurt?” I asked.

  “No. The blood isn’t mine.”

  “Was it necessary?”