by Alex Gunwick
After popping two aspirin, he hobbled to the door. He listened for movement outside. Nothing. Even though he doubted he’d have to contend with anyone in the library, he remained cautious as he entered the hall. He backtracked to the office with the desk. Sometimes people kept snacks in their offices.
Normally he’d never steal from someone, but these weren’t normal times. If the librarian had needed extra food, she would have come back by now. She either lived too far away, had plenty of preps at home, or she was already dead.
He sat in the chair behind the desk and began opening drawers. The first two didn’t hold anything of interest. He opened the third drawer and smiled. An unopened snack pack of tuna and crackers sat next to a sleeve of butter cookies. He tore into the tuna, grateful for the extra protein. He’d need it to help heal his leg.
A packet of mayo fell out of the plastic container. Sweet! He tore it open and added it to the tuna before slathering the mix onto a cracker. When he bit into it, his salivary glands went nuts. Salt flooded his taste buds.
“Lemon pepper, not bad.”
After finishing off the tuna and crackers, he ripped the seam on the butter cookies. The little bites of heaven melted in his mouth. What he wouldn’t give for a glass of ice-cold milk. Or hot chocolate. Liz made the best cocoa. She’d add a cinnamon stick and a dash of chocolate mint brandy to the pot and simmer it over a low flame until it reached the perfect blend. He used to joke that her spiked hot chocolate was the reason he fell in love with her, but there was so much more to love.
They’d met at a coffee shop. He’d tried to grab her drink off of the counter by accident and she’d nearly plowed him over lunging for it. She had a mean caffeine addiction. Without her morning coffee, she morphed into a beast. He’d never forget the first time she’d spent the night. The next morning, she’d woken up bleary-eyed and mumbling about needing her fix. He didn’t have any coffee in the house, so they’d walked across the street to a coffee shop in their pajamas.
He smiled. God help the kids if she’d run out of coffee already. As soon as he assessed the situation at home, he’d head into town on a supply mission to find more coffee. He had some stored in the cellar under the shed, but he hadn’t gotten around to showing her the extra cache yet. He should have taken the time.
He’d wasted so much time commuting to work and hadn’t spent enough time with his family. If he could have seen what the future would bring, he would have quit his job years ago to prepare. But no one had a crystal ball. Life could change in an instant. From here on out, he’d make sure they were as prepared as possible, and to do that, he needed to get home.
After searching the file cabinet, he found another tuna snack pack and a bag of peppered beef jerky. He shuffled back to the classroom and loaded the extra food in his bag.
He headed back into the main part of the library to look for anything else useful. As he passed the fiction section, he spotted a wooded magazine rack near the back wall. He headed over and hit the jackpot—maps.
The top row held world maps. The second contained maps of various countries. The third row housed road maps of the surrounding area. He pulled out a map of the Inland Empire. With all the running he’d been doing, he had no idea where he was. He headed to the front of the building and checked the concrete sign. Rialto Public Library.
He whipped open a map and laid it out on the checkout desk. Of course the map didn’t list libraries, so he needed the address. He found it on a business card.
As he ran his finger across the map, he searched for First Street. He found it and followed the line to the 200 block. Damn. He’d gotten way off course. He was five miles west of Highway 215. He’d been using it as a guide until the gang had chased him.
He began to draw various routes through the city. South Riverside Street crossed the Santa Ana River about five miles to the south. That could work, then he could use the trees around the river as cover. Although, it was hard to tell from the map whether or not the river would flow above ground. Some rivers were piped through cities underground. In that case, it wouldn’t help him. But he wouldn’t know until he reached it.
As he looked for alternative routes, he noticed hash marks near downtown Rialto. Train tracks? He leaned down and squinted at the map. The Rialto Train Station was two blocks away. Finally, a break. Talk about getting lucky. He almost couldn’t believe it. The train tracks would be a much better option. It wasn’t without risks, but train tracks usually ran behind buildings. Unless someone else had the same idea, he could end up with the tracks all to himself.
After folding up that map, he rifled through the next rack down. Utility maps. These could come in handy. He set aside all of the electrical grid maps. They were useless now. But the storm drain lines, those could be beneficial if he needed to plot a route underground. If he kept running into more problems on the surface, going below ground might be a good option. He added that map to the pile.
Outside, the last rays of sunshine faded. Still racked with pain, he decided to spend the night in the library.
Back inside the classroom, he settled in for the night. The muted crack of gunfire carried through the walls. Although he doubted anyone would think to check the library for anything useful, they might see the broken glass at the back door and decide to investigate.
He lifted his pistol and hit the mag release. After grabbing the full mag from his pack, he slammed it into the gun. He cocked and locked it before laying it at his side.
The door could be a problem. No lock. If anyone came in shooting, he was a dead man, but most people were lazy. If he pushed a few tables up against the door, they might think it was locked. He flipped three tables on their sides and shoved them up against the door. He added several chairs to the pile. It might not be enough to keep people out, but at least it would give him a few seconds’ warning. Hopefully it would be enough.
Luke woke at dawn to a dull throbbing in his thigh. He sat up to check the wound. After peeling the gauze away, he squeezed the wound to check for puss. A thin trickle of blood oozed out. Not bad. He wouldn’t be healed before he reached home, but that didn’t matter. Liz wouldn’t care as long as he made it home in one piece.
He used the last of the water in his second bottle to clean the wound, then reapplied a fresh layer of antibiotic ointment. He covered the wound with gauze and repacked his bag. When he tried to clear his throat, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He needed to locate water as soon as possible. Dehydration would take him down faster than almost anything else, so until he got home, it would have to be his top priority.
The pile of tables and chairs still blocked the door to the classroom. Luke untangled the mass of furniture. Before opening the door, he stopped to listen for any movement outside. The library was as silent as a mausoleum.
He cracked open the door and peeked out into an empty hallway. Good, at least he wouldn’t have to shoot his way out.
Before leaving the library, he checked the other rooms. He didn’t find any water, so he headed out the rear entrance.
Outside, a gray haze drifted across the sky. It couldn’t be smog since cars weren’t running, but it could be from the fires. The temperature had dropped about ten degrees compared to the previous day. An analog thermometer on the outside of the building displayed seventy-eight degrees. Not too hot, but not cool by any means.
He walked around the outside of the building until he found a hose bib sticking out of the wall. It was attached to a small, two-inch pipe about as big around as his thumb. The water valve could potentially give him access to all the water he could ever want, provided water flowed through the line.
After pulling a four-way steel sillcock key wrench out of the tool section of his pack, he fit it into the hose bib.
“Please let this work.”
He turned the wrench, but the hose bib refused to budge.
“Come on, you rusted up piece of crap.”
As he put his body weight into it, the bib creaked open a q
uarter turn before suddenly twisting loose. Luke plunged forward, knocking his ribs against the pipe as he fell flat on his face.
Water trickled from the pipe, splashing against his jeans before flowing onto the concrete. He climbed to his feet and glared at the pipe. At least he’d be able to get some water for his trouble.
After unscrewing the cap on the first bottle, he held it under the pipe. Clear water flowed in to fill it. He screwed the cap on and set it aside. The second bottle took longer to fill as the water slowed to a drip. When it was finally full, he fished a LifeStraw from his pack. He affixed it to the top of the bottle before tipping it back to drink.
He guzzled an entire bottle then set it under the drip to let it refill while he downed the second bottle. Normally he wouldn’t chug water so fast, but his throat demanded moisture. The process continued until he’d sucked down three full sixteen-ounce bottles.
Finally satiated, he refilled both bottles one final time. He sealed the valve and returned the sillcock key to his pack.
He wolfed down an energy bar, then took stock of his other food. Including the tuna snack pack, he had four energy bars. Barely twelve hundred calories total. Not enough to get him through a full day, let alone another two. He’d need to find food at some point today, but he didn’t want to backtrack to look for any. To keep frustration at bay, he had to put at least ten to fifteen miles behind him today. If he didn’t make some major progress, he’d lose his mind.
After hoisting his bag onto his back, he stuffed the SIG in his front pocket. Locked and loaded and refueled, he could easily make it another twenty miles as long as nothing got in his way.
He walked down to North Willow Avenue. As he turned left, he spotted a sign for the Rialto Police Department across the street. He hadn’t seen it in the dark the previous night. Granted, he hadn’t run past it either. He’d been coming in from the opposite direction.
As he approached the police station, he discreetly shoved his SIG lower into his pocket. He wouldn’t blame the cops for being a bit trigger happy considering the circumstances, so he needed to play it safe. He couldn’t risk having his gun confiscated.
The glass doors out front remained intact. Looting a police station would be idiotic, but desperate overrode reason in a disaster scenario. This certainly qualified as one.
A sign had been taped to the glass from inside.
No services. Closed until further notice.
He cupped his hands against the glass and peered inside. The building was empty but for a few desks and some chairs. His fantasy of being able to use a satellite phone to call Liz evaporated. They probably wouldn’t have let him use it anyway if they’d had one. Oh well. Onward.
Silence amplified the sound of his footsteps. He scanned both sides of the road as well as the street. It was surreal. No one was in sight. It was as if he was the last man on earth. He knew it wasn’t true, but the absolute stillness unnerved him. He hadn’t realized how much background noise he’d encountered in everyday life. Usually airplanes buzzed overhead. Car horns honked and tires screeched. Some drivers yelled at each other, while others blasted music. Without all of the added stimulation, he was able to be extra alert to sounds he never would have heard before the bombs dropped.
A raven cawed from its perch atop a light pole. It glared at him with beady black eyes. God, he hated birds. He’d been attacked by one on his parents’ farm when he was a kid. Damn bird had tried to peck the hair out of his head to use it in its nest.
As he continued down the road, a gust of wind propelled a fast food wrapper past his feet. The crumpled wrapper scraped against the gravel as it rolled.
Halfway up a flag pole, an American flag cracked in the wind. He paused, his heart full of love for his country. Until now he’d been completely obsessed with the fate of his family. But there were so many families out there just like his. Families who hadn’t prepared for war. Families who were starving, defenseless, and headed toward certain death.
All the warning signs had been in the news for months. Political instability, trade wars, and posturing between various countries had finally reached a flash point. It didn’t matter who had struck first. Maybe the whole world was at war. Maybe the president had authorized the launch of nuclear weapons and other countries had retaliated.
As he turned onto the train tracks, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He’d spent the last few years trying to prepare his family, not just for war, but for anything that might come up. If he’d lost his job, they would have been okay. He had several months’ worth of food stocked up between the house and the cabin. If the San Andreas Fault had ruptured causing “The Big One,” he would have been ready. A few years ago, nuclear war hadn’t even been within the realm of possibility, at least in his mind. But now, he was damn glad he’d prepared. Now they’d have a fighting chance.
Lost in his thoughts, he almost didn’t hear the second set of footsteps on the track. Thirty yards behind, the person kept pace with Luke. A chain link fence with razor wire lined the right side of the tracks. He wouldn’t even attempt to climb over it. One wrong move and he’d get tangled up and sliced and diced by the razors.
To his left, several warehouses lined the tracks. A razorless chain link fence separated him from the protection of the buildings, but he could be up and over them in seconds.
As he debated what to do, he kept walking. Same pace, same level of relaxation in his posture. If he tensed up, the other person would know he’d been spotted. Whoever it was hadn’t made a move to either draw closer, or draw down on him.
With the element of surprise on his side, he took several long, slow breaths to fully oxygenate his blood. He counted to three before sprinting toward the fence. Up and over in seconds, he dashed across a weed-choked path before hiding behind the edge of the warehouse.
The fence rattled as the other man climbed it. Luke peered around the corner. The other guy was about five foot ten. A baseball hat partially obscured his face, but based on the way he lumbered across the path, he had to be in his forties. A classic beer belly rose up from underneath a sweat-stained gray T-shirt. He wore black cotton shorts crusted with dirt.
Luke eased back into the shadows. He didn’t make his move until the man turned the corner.
He grabbed the man by the throat, spun his back to the wall, and pointed his gun at the man’s forehead. “Who the fuck are you and why are you following me?”
4
Liz waited until the next morning to make a decision about meeting the other group. She’d been on watch all night, returning to the cabin at dawn, bleary-eyed and ready to fall face-first into bed. Having a whole team to support her effort became more appealing over the course of several hours.
The final deciding factor involved waking up after falling into a tree branch. She’d been asleep on her feet, utterly useless if someone had been watching the cabin. Her inability to maintain twelve-hour shifts would eventually put her family in danger. Joining up with another group was inherently risky, but if Sandy and Edwin thought it might work, then Liz would at least go meet them.
When she returned to the cabin, she found Sierra sitting at the kitchen table.
“I need to talk to you, Mom.”
“Okay. Let me make some coffee.”
“I already made a pot. Here.” Sierra shoved a steaming cup across the table. “I poured it when I saw you outside.”
“Thank you.” Liz took a long sip before setting the mug down. “What’s up?”
“I think I’ve been punished enough.”
“Keeping you near the house wasn’t meant to be punishment,” Liz said.
“Right. Anyway, I learned my lesson. Don’t talk to strangers.”
“Be cautious with strangers.”
“You said I wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone outside of the family ever again,” Sierra said with a huff.
“I meant the church people.”
“Oh.”
“I’m going over to the Wrights’ house.
I’ve decided to meet the others.”
“Are you going to form an alliance with them?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why is it okay for you to go meet new people, but I can’t?” Sierra asked.
“Because I have more experience with people. I can sense if something’s not right.”
“I can sense that too. I knew something wasn’t right with Elijah.”
“And yet you continued to go over there,” Liz said.
“They had cookies with real sugar.”
“Not a valid excuse.”
“Fine. But I’m not an idiot.”
“People from the preacher’s group shot at us,” Liz said through clenched teeth. “Your continued interaction with them was not a case of good judgment.”
Sierra huffed and folded her arms over her chest.
“Until you learn to read people for who they really are, you need to stay away from them.”
“How can I learn to read people if I never talk to anyone but you and Kyle?” Sierra asked.
“You can learn later. Right now I need you to take watch. I’m going over to the Wrights. I should be back in a few hours. If anything happens, I’ll be at the house closest to Santiago Canyon Road.”
“Whatever.” Sierra stood and dumped her coffee in the sink.
“Don’t waste food,” Liz said.
“We’ve got plenty of coffee. Besides, I ran a second pot of water through it like you told me to do. It’s weak as hell and nasty, but I guess it’s still coffee.”
“In a few months we might not have any coffee left. We need to stretch it out as much as we can.”
“I wish the world would either end, or not end. Being in limbo sucks,” Sierra said.
Liz silently agreed.
“Take care of your brother. I’ll be back soon.”
“You’re not going to take a nap first?”
“No. If this group is worth joining, then I’ll be able to sleep a lot more.”
“That would be nice,” Sierra said, as if she didn’t already sleep more than her fair share.