Surviving Chaos

by Ryan Westfield

“I think Kiki likes me more than you do,” said John.

  “She doesn’t like you. She’s just trying to get the salt from your sweat.”

  John knew it wasn’t true. Ever since Dale had died, Kiki had been much more affectionate with the two of them.

  “All right,” said John. “Maybe you’re right about the tree. The last thing we want to do is argue.”

  “Who’s arguing?”

  “Let’s just take a break,” said John. “Do you want another energy bar?”

  “I don’t think I can eat another one. They really taste like sawdust to me now.”

  John dug out two of the energy bars from his back, and handed one to Cynthia. Despite what she’d said, she was soon biting into it savagely, tearing off huge pieces and chewing rapidly.

  As John had predicted to himself, Cynthia’s mood started to get better almost immediately. He’d noticed the same thing in himself. When his blood sugar was low, everything seemed worse, more hopeless.

  After a few minutes, he was feeling a little better himself.

  He took out the maps they had and laid them out on the ground.

  “So we’re still in Ryerson Station State Park,” said John. “At least as far as I can figure out.”

  Cynthia nodded. “Quite astute,” she said sarcastically. But her tone was more playful, and her eyes, when they looked up at him, had more warmth than malice in them.

  “We would have come across a road,” said John. “According to these maps at least. The thing we don’t know is…”

  “Whether we’re being hunted?” interrupted Cynthia.

  John nodded. “But also where we are.”

  Cynthia sighed loudly. “What I wouldn’t give for a GPS, or a smartphone right now.”

  John nodded, but in his opinion there wasn’t much point in entertaining ideas like that. Things were the way they were, and they weren’t going to change because of wishful thinking.

  “I guess we have to figure out how we can walk in a straight line,” said John. “It sounds obvious. But as long as we keep going the same direction, we’ll get out eventually.”

  “And then what? We don’t even know where we’re headed.”

  “Yeah, that’s true.”

  The two were silent for a long while.

  “Why don’t you try the radio?” said Cynthia.

  “The radio? What do you mean?”

  “Just give it a try. Maybe we can hear one of those broadcasts.”

  “And what good would that do us?”

  “Well, it would give us information. Who knows. There’s no harm in trying, right?”

  “We’ve got to get out of here as quickly as possible. If they’re hunting us down, that is.”

  “I’m pretty sure if they were we’d already be dead.” Cynthia said it in a matter of fact way, as if the possibility of being killed didn’t bother her much.

  John understood where she was coming from. Death had become completely normalized for them. They hadn’t even spoken much of Dale’s death. For them, it was simply something that had happened. Dale had been with them, and now he wasn’t. There wasn’t anything they could do about it.

  “Fine,” said John. “I’ll try the radio. But I don’t know how to work it.”

  “I do.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be able to?”

  “I don’t know. It’s not something everyone knows how to do. It’s not a normal radio.”

  “My brother used to be obsessed with these things. Here, give it to me.”

  John fished around in the pack until he found the radio. It was still in its bizarre and make-shift Faraday cage, which had gotten a little bashed up and dented in places, from sitting in the pack as it had been. Hopefully it was still effective.

  John handed the radio to Cynthia, who started unwrapping the chicken wire from around it.

  “Do we really need to keep it in this wire?”

  John shrugged. “I don’t know. Dale thought it was a good idea, obviously. Remember? He refused to leave the wire behind.”

  Cynthia didn’t answer. She was already busy fiddling with the controls.

  They didn’t know if there’d be another EMP. There’d really be no way to know, as far as John could tell. If it had been something natural, like a coronal event, then another EMP actually might be likely.

  If, on the other hand, it had been some kind of attack, or technological accident, another EMP wasn’t likely. What would be the point of setting off another one, after everything had already been disabled?

  The accidental EMP was something John had been thinking a lot about recently. What if someone had been testing some new kind of weapon, and there’d been an accident? An accidental detonation of a device? It was plausible, since John knew that those sorts of things did happen occasionally.

  But there was really no way to know. It was all just idle speculation on his part, and didn’t affect his life much at all. The radio was the only electronic thing they had, apart from the flashlights.

  “You get it to work yet?”

  “Yeah.”

  Cynthia showed John the dials she had turned, and how to switch it on. He was so tired it mostly went over his head.

  “I’m not finding anything,” said Cynthia. “Just static.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Nothing, yeah, that’s what I said.”

  “Just checking.”

  “Well,” said Cynthia. “Maybe we’ll find something tomorrow. Who knows.”

  “We should get a move on it.”

  “Sounds good, but what’s the plan?”

  “The plan? Are you losing your memory or something?”

  “No, just tired.”

  “You said you had a brilliant plan for walking in a straight line.”

  “Oh, yeah. Well, I haven’t thought of anything yet. Have you?”

  Cynthia paused for a moment. “We’ve been using the compass. But maybe we’ve been using it wrong.”

  “Wrong? How can we use it wrong?”

  “Give it to me. And show me how you use it.”

  John handed over the compass, explaining what he’d been doing with it.

  Cynthia started laughing as soon as she saw it.

  “What direction have we been headed in?”

  “Northeast.”

  “Yeah? You sure?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  “You know how to use a compass, right?”

  “Of course I know how to use a compass. You think I’m an idiot or something?”

  “Maybe. Look, you’ve been getting us off track. You have to pay attention to the degrees. These little lines here.”

  “I know what degrees are.”

  “Apparently not. You’ve been pushing us a few degrees forward each time, making us go around in a wide circle.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “No, but it’s likely.”

  John shrugged. “Sorry, I guess,” he said. “I’m exhausted.”

  “I think I should have the compass from now on.”

  John shrugged, and nodded. He felt embarrassed. How could he have been so stupid? The line had been pointing one way… He was getting confused just thinking about it. Figuring out where you were with a compass was a lot harder than it had seemed.

  What could John expect? He’d spent his whole adult life in the city, where the streets were laid out in a grid. Walnut Street ran west, and Chestnut ran east. The numbers of the cross streets got higher as you went west, and lower as you went east, towards the river. It was something everyone learned when they first moved to Philadelphia, and it always worked.

  Out in the woods, it was different.

  “OK,” said Cynthia. “I’m in charge this time. Let’s go.”

  John shouldered his packs again, and groaned as he got them on.

  “I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to carry two packs.”

  “I thought you were supposed to be tough. The big strong man. B
ut look at you, you can’t even figure out a compass. You’ve been leading us in circles for days.”

  John paused. He didn’t know how to react. He saw her face. There was real anger there, in her eyes and in the way she held her mouth.

  “What’s gotten into you?” said John, speaking slowly. “I thought the energy bar had helped. You seemed like your mood was better.”

  “I…”

  “What is it?”

  Cynthia’s expression changed. Her lip was quivering, and there were tears welling up in her eyes.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She sat back down, with her pack on, and put her face in her hands. She was crying.

  John didn’t know what to make of it.

  They’d been getting along well before Dale’s death. They’d been close, and while Cynthia’s sarcasm occasionally had gotten old, he knew there’d been no malice behind it. Normally. Only affection. Maybe something more.

  He squatted down, which was difficult with the pack, and put his arm around her.

  Kiki came over and started sniffing around curiously, nuzzling her head against Cynthia.

  “What’s going on?”

  “It’s just… everything.”

  John knew what she meant. They’d been through too much.

  They spent above five minutes there, in that position, until John had to move. He told her everything was going to be OK, which they both knew was, if not a lie, at least only a half truth. There was no way to know if they’d make it. And, realistically, chances were that they wouldn’t, that they’d instead meet some horrible fate. Or simply die somewhere from starvation. As if that wasn’t bad enough.

  Cynthia seemed like she was doing better. She was drying her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” said Cynthia, looking up at him. “I know I was being rough on you.”

  “It’s fine. I can take it.”

  Cynthia gave a little chuckle. “I know.”

  “Come on,” said John. “Let’s get moving.”

  “All I did was waste time,” said Cynthia. “If people are after us, I only made it easier.”

  “True, but come on. We’ll make up for it.”

  They set off at a brisk pace, Cynthia leading the way. Kiki, again, walked in front of them, periodically checking to see which way they were headed.

  Up ahead, John spotted a small structure. Some type of odd little building. It was painted forest green and made of wood. It would have blended in with the trees, had the leaves not already changed color, many of them fallen off.

  Cynthia saw it too. She stopped. “What’s that?”

  “Maybe some kind of park building? It is a state park after all.”

  Kiki wasn’t far away. Suddenly, she barked, opening her mouth wide.

  “Kiki,” hissed Cynthia. “Quiet.”

  Kiki barked again, and again.

  Maybe she was trying to warn them? John turned his head to look around them. But it was already too late.

  John heard it before he saw it.

  The unmistakable sound of a shotgun being racked.

  A man stood there, tall and very thin.

  He wore a brown park ranger’s uniform, but it was tattered to the point of almost looking like rags.

  John didn’t dare reach for his gun. He hoped Cynthia wouldn’t either.

  “Hands above your heads,” said the man. His voice cracked as he spoke, as if he hadn’t used it in a long time.

  John glanced at Cynthia. She was already raising her hands. There was despair in her eyes. John knew the look well.

  They’d gotten through so much, only to come up yet again against another obstacle, another danger. Who knew if this was their last.

  14

  Mandy

  Mandy had been returning from getting water when she’d come across the woman. She’d thought first of the woman back at the farmhouse that she’d killed with her knife. They looked, at least to Mandy, remarkably similar. Not in their overall appearance, but more in the way they carried themselves. They’d both had that look of desperation about them.

  Mandy had seen the woman before she’d been seen herself. She’d drawn her gun and pointed it at the woman, telling her to freeze. The woman had just kept moving, glancing furtively back at Mandy, walking away from her.

  So Mandy had fired her gun in the air. Maybe it hadn’t been the best move. It had been the loss of a bullet, for one thing.

  And it also meant possibly attracting unwanted attention from anyone else who might be in the area.

  But Mandy had done it, acting partly on instinct.

  She couldn’t let the woman just walk away.

  Mandy needed to know who she was, where she’d come from. And any other information she had. More importantly, Mandy needed to know if she’d be a threat.

  But the woman had seemed to be in a daze, unable or unwilling to respond to Mandy’s threat of violence.

  Maybe Mandy should have just shot her.

  But she hadn’t. Instead, she’d shot the warning shot.

  It had worked.

  The woman had spun around, a look of intense fear on her face. The sound of the gun had startled her out of whatever kind of daze she’d been in.

  “Who are you?” said Mandy.

  The woman hadn’t answered at first. Instead, she’d put her arms in the air, even though Mandy hadn’t asked her to do so.

  Mandy took a good look at the woman. She was wearing a winter jacket, even though it wasn’t yet quite cold enough for a jacket like that. She had a small backpack with her, the kind that kids took to school before the EMP. It looked only about half full.

  The woman had nothing else with her. No weapon that Mandy could see, although of course that didn’t mean anything. She could easily have had a gun or a knife with her, concealed under the jacket. Or a thousand other different things that could be used as a weapon, whether that was their intention or not.

  “Mandy! Are you OK?”

  It was James. Mandy turned to look. Sadie was right behind him. They were running through the woods, nearly tripping on fallen branches and roots.

  James had his gun out.

  “What happened?”

  “I found someone,” said Mandy. “I’m not hurt.”

  “We were worried. We heard a shot.”

  Mandy explained why she’d discharged her gun. James nodded, but Sadie protested, saying that she should have just killed her.

  “Just killed her? I’m surprised to hear that coming from you, Sadie.”

  Mandy knew Sadie had been having a rough time, but that didn’t mean it shocked her any less. Of all of them, maybe Sadie had been the one least likely to use or suggest violence, even when it was obviously necessary.

  Mandy kept her gun trained on the stranger, who didn’t move. But her eyes went to James and Sadie, and widened in surprise.

  “You left your mother alone at the camp?” said Mandy.

  “Shit,” muttered James. “I’ll head back, unless you need help. What are you going to do with her?”

  “We’ll all go back together,” said Mandy. “We’ll take her with us.”

  “But then she’ll know where our camp is.”

  “She already knows there are four of us. And it wouldn’t be hard to find our campsite, if we let her go. Not that I’m planning on letting her go.”

  As Mandy said the words, she suddenly realized that she had a big problem on her hands. Deciding whether or not the woman was a threat, and what to do with her, was going to be difficult. Especially if she wasn’t going to talk.

  “You two lead the way,” said Mandy. “I’ll follow with her.”

  Mandy gestured to the woman. “Do you understand me?”

  The woman nodded.

  “Come on. Follow them. And remember, I’ll have this gun on you the whole time. You can probably tell I didn’t want to shoot you, but, believe me, I won’t hesitate to kill you if
you make one false move. Keep your hands above your head at all times, or you get shot.”

  Mandy figured she’d wait until they got back to camp to check the woman for weapons. Maybe part of her was hoping the woman would do something stupid and reach for a weapon. It would give Mandy a clear indication of what she was supposed to do. She felt horrible for thinking that thought. But that was the way things had become.

  When they were in sight of the camp, James and Sadie stopped.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s someone there.”

  “Where?”

  “Past the Bronco. Someone’s lying on the ground there.”

  “A body?”

  “I’ll go check,” said James.

  “Be careful. It could be a trick.”

  Two people showing up on the same day, at the same time? That couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?

  “Do you know anything about this?” said Mandy, to the woman.

  The woman shook her head.

  But there was no way to know if she was telling the truth.

  Sadie, Mandy, and the stranger stayed at the edge of camp, while James moved cautiously ahead to investigate.

  Mandy watched James, and at a certain point, he broke into a run, heading straight towards the body on the ground.

  What was going on? What had made him run?

  “It’s Max!” he called out.

  Max? It couldn’t be.

  Mandy’s heart started racing.

  She couldn’t believe he was back. That was a shock enough itself.

  But was he hurt?

  Was he dead?

  What had happened?

  Did the stranger do something to him? Just when he’d gotten back?

  Mandy couldn’t leave the stranger with Sadie. Or at least she didn’t think it was wise to do so.

  So the only option was to move slowly forward, towards Max and James, with the stranger leading the way.

  “Is he hurt?” called out Mandy.

  “I don’t think so. He’s waking up.”

  James was crouched down over Max, making it hard to see him.

  Finally, after what seemed like forever, they’d crossed the relatively short distance to where Max was.

  “Mandy? Is everything OK?” called out Georgia, from where she lay inside the Bronco.

  “I don’t know yet. Are you OK, Georgia?”