by Nate Johnson
She was short, about five foot three with blond hair and blue eyes that didn’t stop moving and were so intense they could cut through steel. She reminded me of a cornered badger, cute and ready to tear my heart out by the roots. Her jeans were tight in all the right places and made me feel sort of strange inside. It was her face though that shocked me; it’d be beautiful if she ever stopped scowling.
“I just want to …,” What did I want I wondered, not for the first time. Taking a step to the side of the desk I stepped towards her, I didn’t know why, I just wanted to get closer.
“Stay back,” she screamed, emphasizing her point by thrusting her spear my way.
I froze in my tracks before slowly moving back behind the desk, anything to make her feel comfortable enough to stay.
Both of us looked at each other across the room, neither knowing what to do next.
“Can I meet your group, maybe your leader?” I asked. God how lame, I thought, kicking myself internally. This isn’t some alien visiting the planet, you’ve’ been reading too many Sci-Fi books. Watching her I wondered if she thought I was a total idiot or only partly one.
“What makes you think I’m not the leader,” she said, her voice pitched high and tight. Sticking her chin out a little she dared me to contradict her. “And what do you know of our group,” she added with a worried look on her face.
“Nothing, I mean, I don’t know. I’m trying to figure out what’s going on around here,” I said. Exasperated that I couldn’t think straight and continued to make a fool of myself.
“Nothing’s going on, the world ended,” she said. As if that was all the explanation I needed.
“What about here in the city, who’s in charge?”
“No one’s in charge,” she said as if it should be obvious. “And before you ask, there are no zombies or mutant aliens. Between the dogs, the slavers, and the Bengal Tiger some idiot let out of the zoo we have more than enough monsters thank you. We’re all trying to avoid becoming someone’s next meal. And the best way to do that is to avoid other people.”
It was as if someone had hit me upside the head. No one in charge, how was that possible? I’d counted on some kind of organization, something I could join. I didn’t care if my emotions were showing. I’d hoped for so much.
Five years of hiding, of following my father’s instructions to the letter. I’d risked everything, abandoned his wishes to find something else. And these people were no better; in fact they seemed to have it worse. At least in the forest and on the farm I knew what I was dealing with.
Did she say Bengal Tiger? Looking at her, I didn’t know where to go from here.
The girl’s brow furrowed with pity, but she didn’t leave the door. “Welcome to the big city,” she said with a sneer. “You should probably go back to where you came from,”
The words hurt, did she think that little of me. Hell, I was the one who'd trapped her. Believe me my bow outweighed her puny spear. I knew I could take care of myself, that wasn’t the questions. Besides, I didn’t need some girl telling me what to do, even if she did fill out a pair of jeans to perfection.
I’ll admit up front, I didn’t have a lot of experience talking to people, especially female type people. Five years in the mountains will do that. This one seemed awful bossy, maybe they just naturally told people what to do. Shaking my head, I tried to get my mind wrapped around what she’d told me.
“I’ve got to go,” she said, and was out the door in a flash.
I ran to the door to stop her but she was already across the street and entering another store. At the last moment she turned and looked back at me, those blue eyes boring into my soul. “The Library was a good choice,” she yelled. Pushing a wisp of hair behind her ear she knocked a piece of hanging glass out of the way with her spear as she ducked into the building.
I stood there hoping she’d come back. Slowly realizing I was alone once again. My anger slowly built as I made my way back to the library. Things were so screwed up. By the time I got back, my face was beet red and my hands ached from clenching the bow so hard. It wasn’t right; someone should have done something about it by now.
Reaching my room, I put my things into the corner and flopped onto the bed I’d dragged in from the department store down the block. My anger slowly gave way to despair as I realized that all of my hopes, plans, and dreams had vanished. Should I go back to the mountains? Maybe somewhere else might be better.
As my mind wandered, trying to figure out what to do next, I thought of the girl and the way she looked in those jeans.
I hadn’t even gotten her name but could remember every curve, the way her eyes cut right through me. I cringed when I remembered the sting of her words. - Go Back! Not on your life.
Chapter Two
I climbed into the bell tower the next afternoon in a rather foul mood. I was going to have to start naming the gargoyles if I was going to continue coming up here. Hell they may be the only friends I ever had.
“She isn’t the only person in town,” I mumbled to the stone creature next to me. “Not even the only girl I’d bet. There must be other people. Someone must be willing to talk, maybe an adult.” Okay, I talk to myself. It happens when you live all alone for as long as I did.
I could easily see what the city used to be like, full of movements, never still. Cars and people rushing everywhere, horns blaring, music spilling out of the bars and taverns, traffic lights, neon signs, and street lights mixing together to create a canvas of vibrant images. The aroma of fresh bread, car exhaust, and the ozone of electric motors mingled to form the sweet smell of progress and comfort. I could taste it on my tongue I wanted it so bad.
Now the city was dead stone buildings, tan, brown, and gray interspersed with glass and steel. All of it drab, dirty. The black streets lay out in a grid. Shuffling blowing trash from one side to the other. If I listened hard I could hear the wind whistling through the man-made canyons across the sun faded cars parked neatly along broken sidewalks. Today’s city had that sweet dry smell of dust and old death. The smell was constant, regardless of which way the wind blew. A deep sadness at the huge waste of it all washed through me.
Pulling my dad's pocket knife from my pocket I absent mindedly flicked it open. Closed it, and flicked it open again. It was a habit I'd picked up since leaving the mountains. I think it kept me in touch with my home, my dad, and all I'd left behind.
If I closed my eyes I could also see what the city would become, a future pile of grass covered rubble located next to the river, a huge hill between the prairie and the mountains. The type of place that the future local wandering nomads spoke of in hushed tones as they migrated with the great herds. A place filled with un-placated ghosts.
I’d left the mountains on my eighteenth birthday two weeks earlier after spending five years up there on my own. Ignoring everything my father had said on his death bed. Disregarding the three black and white marbled notebooks crammed with dictated information passed along by a dying man who knew he was leaving his son all alone in the world.
Books filled with everything from how to dress a deer to changing a flat tire, all of the things he thought I’d need to survive in this new world. The pages interlaced with a single message – Avoid people at all costs.
After five years I couldn’t take it any longer. I didn’t care. I couldn’t stay there all alone anymore, living like a hermit. Something inside my gut pushed me. An unknown force was driving me to stretch the limits, to break some rules, to ignore what was smart and do what felt good instead. To hell with the consequences. Maybe it was hormones. I don’t know and there wasn’t anybody to ask.
So without really thinking about it I’d left our small farm on a tree covered mountain and sneaked into the deserted city hoping to find other people. This was not what I expected.
I sat there on the ledge sixty feet above the empty street. My feet dangled over the side as my mind drifted to the past. The plague was pretty efficient, leaving five people f
or every 10,000 it took. It’d come out of some Mid-East war and spread across the world in less than a month. Most people had time to make it home and crawl into bed before dying an agonizing death. Not everyone had chosen that path of course as the pews in the church below demonstrated.
Old white bones covered in old clothes were the iconic image of this new age.
Movement caught the corner of my eye; a pack of feral dogs was hunting near the park. Their noses close to the ground, sweeping back and forth as they searched for that elusive scent which would signal dinner. I shivered.
It hadn’t taken long after the illness swept through before they’d gotten used to human flesh; there’d been a full course meal on every corner.
My mind flashed back a couple of months ago to Mrs. Jacobson on the side of the road. It looked like some wild dogs or a wolf pack had caught her too far away from her house. I don’t think I’ll ever get that sight out of my mind. She’d been the last person I knew from before the plague. In fact, she was the last person I knew period. A sweet lady like her shouldn’t have had to worry about wild dogs.
She’d stop by and make sure I was alright. Even tried to take me in after my dad died. I’d always found some excuse not to. Maybe if I was there she wouldn’t have been taken like that.
As I watched, the dogs caught a scent and tore into the park, baying in full throated glory. A doe sprang from the bushes and scampered across the park’s meadow and into the trees. The dogs had her scent though and wouldn’t give up easily. A large German Shepherd raced to the front of the pack while a beautiful Red Irish setter turned to the left, trying to herd the deer back towards the shepherd.
I had a bird’s eye view and watched, fascinated when the dogs trapped the young deer by a chain link fence, her path cut at every turn. She turned to face her enemies, frantic, still searching for that escape. I felt sorry for her, it was hopeless.
The dogs moved in cautiously, knowing they had her trapped. Working together they turned the dear and the shepherd got in close to hamstring her. As he held her heel the big red setter got her by the throat. In an instance she was down.
I couldn’t pull my eyes away as the dogs tore into the tawny hide and began to feast, snapping and snarling at each other over the choicer parts.
Without thinking, I reached for my bow and quiver making sure they were close. Even at sixty feet above the scene a disquieting sliver of fear crept up my spine.
I’d taken my share of deer, this was different. Seeing such violence inside the city made me uncomfortable. For the thousandth time I desperately wished I had a gun. A bow, even a professional compound bow like the one dad had left me was great for hunting, but I’d need a machine gun if I ever got cornered by a large pack of wild dogs.
Living was easier at the beginning, as long as you didn’t mind the overpowering stink when going into some a dead person’s house to retrieve their food. Now, after five years, the easily found stuff was running out or had already spoilt.
I could survive in the mountains on my own, - barely, but it was close and wasn’t much fun and only a small step up from the dogs below.
Tearing my gaze away, I returned to scanning the city. The cathedral sat catty corner from my library overlooking the park and the river. Several places on both sides of the river had been turned into blackened rubble. There hadn’t been anybody to put the fires out. Still other buildings had smashed windows and doors hanging open on their broken hinges. Most of the city looked normal, only abandoned, As if someone had vacuumed up all the people and left everything else untouched.
An eagle cruised above the building behind me. Suddenly a pair of crows flew up to harass the bigger bird. They acted like fighter jets attacking a lumbering bomber. They’d swoop in from above and then dart out of the way before getting too close. Cawing and raising all kind of hell the whole time.
The eagle tried to ignore them, probably frustrated out of his mind. Deciding he’d had enough he turned and slowly left the area. He must have traveled a good mile before the smaller black birds left him alone.
Smiling to myself I returned to searching the city. I tried to come here at least once a day. It was definitely the best vantage point. Automatically I looked at the last place I’d seen her, what I called “Her building”. I tried to scan the rest of the city but my eyes kept being pulled back to that spot.
Only after a long time could I force them away. I slowly searched each street and the park. Gasping with shock as I grabbed the ledge for balance. Smoke rose inside the park, a long column stretching into the ski. A campfire at the far end. How had I missed that? A fire meant someone wasn’t afraid, someone willing to be found. My heart racing once again I ran down the stairs and into the park.
I’d gone a few feet into the trees of the park before I froze, slow down Kris, I thought. Just because they’re willing to be found, doesn’t mean that all the dangerous beasties have disappeared.
Putting my head on a swivel, looking everywhere, I notched an arrow and slowly made my way forward, crouching and constantly scanning everything around me.
The acrid smell of charred wood tickled my nose long before I saw anything. Slowly I approached the edge of the tree line, being careful not to scare anyone away. If the last time had been any indication, people around here didn’t like strangers. I stopped at the edge, being sure to remain hidden.
Three wagons, the type with big wooden wheels, were arranged in a loose triangle, six horses were picketed not far away tearing at the luscious green grass of the park.
Weren’t these people scared of the dog packs? I wondered. Or did they not know about them? Maybe they were from outside of the city. Maybe they weren’t afraid of strangers. I had to fight to keep my heart from jumping out of my body.
Still I didn’t move, I’d spent too many years being cautious to throw away good habits now. I could hear my father whispering in my ear. “Patience Kris. Nothing was ever accomplished by rushing.” And “Slow and steady wins the race every time.” I wished my dad was here now, he’d know what to do.
Shaking off the maudlin thoughts, I made my way to the right, hoping to get a better look into the campsite. I’d traveled about ten feet when I caught site of a man squatting by the fire, stirring it with a stick.
The man was old, about forty, (my dad’s age), dressed in jeans, boots, a red flannel shirt and a blue ball cap. He appeared to have something hanging on his left hip, it was too small to be a sword and to big… A GUN! No wonder they didn’t worry about the dog pack. How did he get a gun? They were supposed to have all been confiscated decades ago when the 2nd amendment was revoked. We were taught about it all in school. Every year there would be several lessons about why no one had guns, and why no one ever would.
I was sure it was a gun, I could see the wooden grip, the hammer and the back of the trigger guard. It was in a leather holster hanging from a belt with several bullets filling the special loops. I’d seen enough pictures and remembered my dad talking about them wistfully. My mouth began to salivate as I thought about what I could do with a gun. I’d love to run into that dog pack, boy would they be surprised.
Maybe the men had extras and would be willing to trade, although, I couldn’t imagine what I could have that they might want. They could pick up anything they needed in the city for free.
My stomach got that nervous feeling it always got when I came across something unknown. Looking at my measly bow I shook my head. Careful Kris, a gun changes things.
Turning I looked over my shoulder and tried to catch a glimpse of the sun through the trees. At least two hours before dark. I had to start making some decisions soon. I didn’t want to be caught in the park at night.
Continuing to make my way to the left, I saw two more men, both with guns on their hips and one carrying a rifle. Jesus, it wasn’t fair, the man had two guns. The immense wealth was hard for me to fathom and a feeling of green jealousy washed through my body.
I knew I wasn’t supposed to feel like th
is, it wasn’t right; maybe the man earned his wealth. My heart raced, I craved a gun like nothing else in this world.
As I watched the man with the rifle got up and said something to his companions, dressed in Jeans, cowboy boots and a suede jacket with a wool collar he was too far away to be heard clearly. His body language screamed alpha mail marking him the guy in charge. The third man was about my age, with beady eyes and greasy hair tied back in a long pony tail that stretched to the middle of his back.
I saw that the bushes were closer to the wagons about twenty feet further to the right and slowly made my way to them and peered through the branches I had slowly spread.
I was shocked to my core to see two girls tied to one of the wagon wheels. The first girl was about six or seven, with brown hair and wearing a pink parka. She looked scared, her forehead creased in worry, like a rabbit snared in a trap. She slightly blocked my view of the other girl. I could tell it was a girl because of the way her jeans were stretched over a tight rounded hip and her long legs ended in small black, pointy toed boots, just like …
I gasped and froze, afraid the men would hear me. Thankfully they didn’t react. Quietly I moved a little, I had to know. Yes it was her alright, the girl I’d met the other day. She was pissed off enough to kill a grizzly. She had a big red bruise on her cheek and kept pulling at the ropes binding her hands.
I glanced down at my bow and mentally counted the seven arrows in my quiver. Oh crap, what had I gotten myself into this time?
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Author Notes