Time Lost: Teenage Survivalist II

by Casey, Julie L.

  I listened dully as the voices faded with their footsteps. I decided that if they wouldn’t kill me then I’d just lay there until I died. Maybe Time would be kind to me for once and let death come quickly. Of course, it wasn’t.

  I don’t know how many hours or days passed, but I could feel my body shrinking and shriveling up. Or maybe it was just my imagination, my dreams, that had me dissolving into an insignificant speck. I knew no one was left to remember me or even care that I died; I was but one of millions of innocent souls who had lost their lives to the sun’s wrath. Maybe I wasn’t so innocent, though. I was wracked with guilt for all the times I was a coward, all the times I turned my back on the people I loved and blamed them for my shortcomings. I begged God for forgiveness and understanding. I was just a kid; did that even matter?

  One morning a brilliant light shined in my eyes, forcing me to squint even as my eyes remained close. I tried to ignore the light but it wouldn’t let up and I was forced to shift my position. Pain shot through my arm as pins and needles relentlessly stuck my hand. Involuntarily, I sat up in agony, every muscle and bone in my body screaming at me for moving them out of their stupor. I realized that I had been lying for too long in one place. I hadn’t died like I’d hoped, and my body told me in no uncertain terms that it was, indeed, still alive.

  As I pried my eyes open, a hazy scene came into view and if it weren’t for the pain, I’d have thought I was still dreaming. Directly in front of me was a small fire, like a campfire, but made in the basket of a shopping cart, and next to it stood a man. I blinked several times to clear the grit out of my eyes and the man came into focus. He was a young man, maybe in his early twenties, with a scraggly blond beard and torn, dirty jeans. He wore a bright blue nylon parka, which he carefully kept back from the flames. I must have made a sound because he immediately looked over at me with a startled look, and then a smile broke over his face, making it clear up into his kind, light blue eyes.

  — Hey guys! Look who’s awake!

  Two other young men, looking to be about the same age as the first, quickly came into focus, bending down to look into my face. The one with curly brown hair spoke to me.

  — Hey, buddy. How are you feeling? We weren’t sure you were going to make it.

  I wanted to tell him that was my plan, but my mouth was so dry nothing would come out, so instead I just lay back down and rolled over to my other side. There was some movement and whispering behind me and soon I was gently rolled to my back. Someone sat behind me and laid my head on his lap, while the other tried to get me to drink something. I was too weak to resist.

  — Here, buddy. Drink this.

  I didn’t like him calling me buddy. I wasn’t his buddy and I wanted nothing to do with the spoonful of warm liquid he was forcing in between my lips. Again, I was too weak to resist, and I choked a little before I could swallow what tasted like a watered-down broth. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, however, even when I turned my head to the side. He just pulled my head back around started feeding me again. After a while, my stomach woke up and started grumbling. I groaned and slowly, painfully shook my head no.

  — Come on, buddy. You have to drink it. You need to get your strength back.

  My throat was finally wet enough for me to croak out a response.

  — I don’t want strength. I want to die. Leave me alone.

  The first guy, the blond one, knelt next to me.

  — Now, we can’t just let you die, kid.

  The one holding my head in his lap agreed.

  — Yeah, you remind me of my little brother. I hope someone is taking care of him back home.

  Suddenly I remembered why I was there and I sat bolt upright, ignoring the intense pain in my head and body. I frantically looked around for Sara, but she wasn’t there; had this all been some terrible dream?

  — Where’s Sara? What’d you do with her?

  My voice sounded panicked and shrill; the sound was strange to my ears. The guys looked at each other before “Blondie” responded quietly, sadly.

  — It’s okay, kid. We took care of her.

  — What? What’d you do with her?

  — We buried her. Said a prayer over her. She deserved to be taken care of; we couldn’t just leave her out for the animals to get at her.

  It took a few moments for my mind to comprehend what he’d said, but when I did, I finally slumped back down onto “Big Brother’s” lap. “Curly” resumed spooning the broth into my mouth but I just let it drool out the sides and stared listlessly ahead. Sara was truly gone. And I was still here. The cruelness of the situation hit me then and tears sprang to my eyes. I didn’t bother trying to stop them or wipe them away but, rather, just closed my eyes tightly and let the tears flow down the sides of my face. I didn’t even wipe my nose when it started to leak too, partly from the crying and partly because of the cold. Big Brother held my head and stroked my hair, whispering to me.

  — It’s okay, bro. Just let it out. We’re going to take care of you. It’ll be alright.

  Blondie and Curly got up and went back to the fire, busying themselves with something to let me have some space. After a while, I couldn’t cry anymore and I tried to go back to sleep. Big Brother slid out from under me and placed some kind of pillow under my head. And I slept.

  Chapter 26

  Life After

  I awoke sometime in the late afternoon. I sat up slowly, remembering my sore body this time. I was still by the fire, but no one else was around. Slowly, I took in my surroundings. I was no longer in the building where I had lain with Sara. This building was burnt out as well, but three sides were still intact, complete with windows and doors, as well as the ceiling above me. The only open side faced east apparently, as the sun was shining in the windows on the opposite side. The fire in the shopping cart burned near the edge of the ceiling on the east side, its smoke blackening the high ceiling a bit before it made its way out the opening.

  I was lying on the floor, which was carpeted with a dirty institutionally-patterned rug, and covered by a thick quilt, its bright colors smudged with soot and stains. Behind my head was a rolled up shirt or jacket of some sort. I carefully, painfully, stood up and looked down at my clothes in disgust. They were filthy and I smelled like the lost souls had in the police van. I winced, the memories of that night and the next morning smacking me in the face and taking my breath away.

  Despite the warm sunshine hitting my back through the windows and the fire in front of me, I shivered and moved closer to the fire. Just then, Big Brother came in carrying a load of busted up boards, which he dropped close to the fire. For the first time, I got a good look at him. He was a huge bear-like young man with a thick dark beard and unruly dark hair. His clothes were torn and dirty, just like Blondie’s. He wore only a flannel shirt over his jeans.

  When he saw me, he looked genuinely pleased and he welcomed me back to the living with a huge smile.

  — Hey, look who’s up! How’re you feeling, bro?

  I tried to smile back and shrugged.

  — What’s your name, bro?

  I didn’t feel like talking, but I really didn’t like the nicknames these guys were calling me so I squeaked out my name.

  — Glad to meet you, Ben. My name’s Dakota. Just make yourself comfortable. We don’t have much, but whatever we have is yours to share.

  I nodded at him, happy to be able to call him something other than Big Brother. I tried not to let my guard down, but Dakota’s manner was so kind and unassuming, I couldn’t help but warm up to him a little. His gentle comfort while I had cried had made an impression on me as well, and I found myself smiling weakly at him despite my resolve never again to make a personal connection with anybody else.

  — Doug and Matt are out looking for some food. We’ll probably have some more rat stew for dinner. It’s their specialty.

  Dakota winked and chuckled, and then began stacking the wood, much of which looked like busted-up furniture, on the bottom rack of the
shopping cart and stoking the fire inside the basket, presumably to get it ready to cook the delicacy of the day. My stomach grumbled, and even though I had been intent on starving myself to death, I looked forward to the food. I was sickened again by my cowardice; I couldn’t even die or starve myself to death when I wanted to. Everyone important in my life had died a heroic death: my dad giving me his food so I would survive; Mom taking care of a sick child; Sara standing up to a murderer. Why couldn’t I just refuse to eat, let go of life, and join them?

  Before long, Doug and Matt entered the building, laughing and joking. It had been so long since I had heard anyone enjoying life that it sounded alien to my ears. The blond-haired one, which I later found out was Doug, was carrying two fat, dead rats by the tail in one hand while the other hand was holding something behind his back. When he saw me standing by the fire, he grinned and exclaimed,

  — Hey! This is cause for a celebration! Good thing I caught this for our dinner.

  He pulled a large brown rabbit from behind his back and held it up like it was a prize catch. Well, maybe it was for them. Sara and I had eaten rather well all summer living in the park, but these guys had probably been living in the city proper all this time and had had to make do with whatever little rodents and birds they could find.

  The curly-haired guy was named Matt and he had a prize to share as well. In his coat pockets, he had stashed several dandelion plants, which had somehow not only survived in the snow, but had thrived with the extra moisture. Dakota and Doug began dressing the animals while Matt melted snow in a pot set on some kind of grate placed over the top of the shopping cart. He washed the plants in the pot, then threw the water out and melted fresh snow. When the water was boiling, Dakota tossed in cut-up chunks of meat and dandelion. After a half hour or so, the stew was done and Dakota let me eat the first helping from his own bowl and spoon. I was touched again by his kindness.

  After we had all eaten our fill, we sat around the fire and the guys told me their story. Somehow they knew not to ask me about mine yet; it was still too raw and painful. Maybe it always would be.

  The three had been electrical engineering students at UMKC. They had lived in the dorms until shortly after PF Day when the university had been forced to kick them out. All three were from different parts of the country. They had stayed in Kansas City, living with friends until the power was back on, and then waited around to re-enroll at the university. After the power went out again, they decided to walk to Doug’s home in Omaha in the spring, as it was the closest. Until then, they had been living in the buildings downtown, moving every now and then to avoid gangs and the police. They were all very eager for me to accompany them to Omaha, especially Doug.

  — So, Ben, you’re coming to Omaha with us, aren’t you? You know my family would be happy to have you.

  — Naw, I’ll just stay here.

  — Do you have family here? Somewhere to go?

  I shook my head, not wanting to give out too much information. My plan was still to figure a way out of my life and the hell it had become.

  — I’ll just live downtown here like I have been.

  — No way, man. We couldn’t just leave you here on your own. You’re coming with us.

  I knew I wasn’t going to go with them, but I didn’t feel like arguing, so I just let them think I was. That seemed to satisfy them and they began telling jokes, laughing, and just having a good time. These guys really knew how to enjoy life and make the best of a bad situation. I found myself grinning at some of the crazy things they came up with, despite myself. It had been a long time since I had felt like laughing at anything and the sensation was oddly comforting, even though, at the same time, I felt guilty for enjoying myself.

  Matt was an avid fan of zombie movies, books, and all things undead. He was great at telling scary stories that had hilarious twists at the end. He pulled several zombie-apocalypse books and instruction manuals out of his dusty backpack and excitedly showed us various tips and techniques that could be used for general survival, some of which they had already put to use in catching dinner. One device was a very clever small animal trap made out of an old paint can, rubber bands, and some wire. He was able to catch mice, rats, voles, birds, even an occasional rabbit with it.

  The devices that warned of an impending attack intrigued me a tiny bit, even though, as far as I knew, none of the casualties of PF Day had as yet come back from the dead to feast on anyone’s flesh. One of these used a trip wire and a musical birthday card. Another used one of those personal bodyguard alarms. They also made defensive weapons: a stun gun from a discarded disposable camera, the kind with the flash built in, and another with a cell phone that was useless for communication, yet still had enough voltage to use as a taser. I couldn’t compel myself to get interested enough to learn how they were made, however, talking about them was an amusing distraction for my troubled mind.

  The longer I stayed with these guys, the less I thought about ending my life. Their interest and zest for life was contagious and I found myself changing my mind about going north to Omaha with them in the spring. I never did tell them my entire story, though. I told them about Dad and Mom dying, but left out the divorce and all the heartache that had brought, because I was at peace with all that.

  I know they were probably very curious about Sara—who she was and how she died—but they never pried, and I decided to keep her story to myself. My memories were the only things that I had of her to keep, and I didn’t want to share those with anyone yet. The guys showed me where they had buried her, though, in a little urban garden near where she had died. They left me there alone and waited a few blocks away, telling me to yell if I needed them. They had made a grave marker for her out of two pieces of metal, probably taken from the skeleton of one of the burned buildings, tied into a cross and thrust into the ground. I visited her grave a few times that winter; the last time I was there was in early spring, right before we left Kansas City. I found a bunch of purple flowers blossoming inharmoniously in front of the ugly ruins of a building and placed them on her grave. I promised her I’d see her again someday and would think of her shining down on me from heaven every time there was a rainbow.

  Chapter 27

  The Journey North

  Sometime in early April we started our journey to Omaha. We figured it would take a couple of weeks for us to get there, barring any unforeseen circumstances. The guys had two backpacks each and a large duffel bag full of stuff to take. Matt found a discarded metal coffee can and after the guys inhaled the leftover aroma from inside for several minutes like drug addicts snuffing paint fumes, they poked a few holes in it near the bottom and scooped the coals from the fire into it. They poked some holes in the lid as well and placed the can in the bottom of the shopping cart, piling the stack of wood pieces they had scavenged on top. They covered the wood with a raggedy piece of plastic to keep it dry, then stowed the duffel bag and two of the extra backpacks on the bottom shelf and on top of the wood. We each strapped on a backpack and we were ready to go.

  I briefly considered taking them back to Swope Park to get some more supplies from the caches we had buried there and to retrieve my gym bag, but the thought of facing the place where Sara and I were almost happy was just too painful. Plus, I really didn’t want to see Aaron and the lost souls and have to explain where Sara was. In the end, I said nothing to the guys about the park, and we began to make our way north through the city.

  We skirted the downtown area, hoping to avoid the worst concentration of criminals and police, and instead stayed on the barren interstates. We took turns pushing the cart, but it wasn’t long before it got cumbersome. It took a day and a half of almost non-stop walking to make it completely out of the city and to a place with woods a few hundred feet off the interstate where we felt safe making camp and spending the night. It was too hard to get the cart through the underbrush and trees, so we abandoned it at the edge of the trees and carried everything to a clearing where we set up our camp. I
t was early afternoon, but we were exhausted and cold after walking all night and we wanted time to make sure our camp was safe and would provide shelter should the weather turn bad by morning.

  We found the perfect campsite between several big evergreen trees, whose long, thick branches swept the forest floor in a ring around a ten-foot clearing. After sweeping the ground of pine needles, we started a fire with our still-smoldering coals in the middle of the clearing, adding the wood we had brought, branches we found on the ground, and armfuls of dried pine needles, which we found made fantastic tinder. We soon had a nice, warm fire going. Dakota called it a commanding fire and we all had to agree that the name fit. I found a creek nearby and started warming some water from it over the fire, while the other guys set animal traps and trip-wire alarms around the perimeter. I gathered some fresh pine needles to make a nutritious tea, and then swept up big piles of needles for our beds under a huge pine tree.

  We all decided to hit the sack soon after sunset since we were so tired from our trek out of the city. Sometime during the night, we were awakened by the sound of rain, but we stayed nice and dry under the tree. Luckily, Doug had remembered to gather some hot coals into the coffee can and store them safely under the tree so we could start a fire again. By morning, it was still raining lightly and I showed the guys how to make a pit fire under the boughs of the tree so we could warm up some water for more pine needle tea.

  We had gone to bed hungry, as there hadn’t been enough time to catch anything in our traps to eat. In the morning, however, we found two squirrels and a plump robin in our traps and snares. It wasn’t nearly enough to fill our empty bellies, but it helped ease the hunger pains. The guys tried to give me a bigger share of the food, saying that I was a growing boy and needed it more than they did, but I wouldn’t take it. As it was, each of us only got about a palm-sized piece of meat. We even sucked the meager marrow out of the bones of the squirrels. After that, we sat under the tree around our pit fire to wait out the rain shower.