The No Where Apocalypse (Book 2): Surviving No Where

by E A Lake

  “No!” she shrieked. I checked to be sure that Libby wasn’t bearing witness to any of this. Fortunately, I could see her eyes still closed, lost in a slumber that didn’t include any of the horror confronting her mother and myself.

  “Please dear God,” Daisy cried. “Please.”

  I pulled her to her feet. “Come on,” I urged. “We need to find any survivors. We have to.”

  She rose and nodded. But one step was all she could manage. Pointing ahead, her shaky arm showed me what I feared most: A body in the road.

  I ran, praying it wasn’t one of ours, fearing it was. As I stood over the form, face down in the snow, I didn’t recognize the clothing. Turning him over, I saw the first blood of the battle, staining the otherwise perfect white snow a deep crimson.

  “Not one of ours,” I called back to Daisy. Thank God.

  Staring at the fire, I lost all hope. Anyone inside was already dead. If the flames didn’t kill them, then the smoke that preceded the fire did. With Daisy by my side, I wrapped an arm around her shivering body, not knowing what to do next.

  For a moment, I was surprised that I hadn’t heard fire engines coming. Surely something of this magnitude would be seen for miles around. Then I remembered where I was — No Where.

  Even if there were working vehicles, would there be gas for them? And if there was gas, would there be enough people alive to man them? I turned back, glancing down the snow-covered road. How would they ever get through that much snow?

  Fiery boards began to fall from the upper floor of Lettie’s home, our home. Crashing to the ground below, both Daisy and I jumped at the evil sound. The warmth caused me to open my jacket as I wondered what to do next. The only sound filling the night air was the fire, nothing more.

  Letting out a sigh, I squeezed Daisy tighter. Were we really left alone in all of this? Had all of our friends fought for their survival only to die such a gruesome death? Would we survive much longer or would we always wish we had been here to die like the rest?

  “Over here,” a voice cried from the darkness. “Over here, in the garage.”

  Survivors.

  Year 4 - early spring - WOP

  We dashed towards the garage. Raising a hand to ward off the heat from the flames, I pulled the toboggan along, making sure the ride was smooth for my sleeping passenger. Once at the door, I lifted the sleeping child and moved inside. Hoping for more than one survivor, I was thankful there was at least Lettie.

  Inside the garage, the first thing I noticed was the overall darkness. As my eyes adjusted, I noticed several blanket-covered people rise from chairs. More, that was good.

  “That God you’re back,” Lettie said, giving Daisy a hug. I hustled Libby inside to another person. Due to the lack of light, I didn’t realize it was Marge, until I heard her shushing the waking child.

  Daisy scrambled to find Violet in the black cold interior. I heard the two crying, sharing their joint relief and pain.

  I turned back to Lettie. “What happened?”

  She took a seat, rubbing her forehead. I wrapped a blanket from Libby around the old woman.

  “I don’t know,” she began, sounding tired and more worn out than I’d even heard. “Three hours ago, maybe more, they showed up. I heard Dizzy call out from the front room. Then I heard a bunch of gunshots and an explosion of glass. The rest of us were in bed.

  “By the time I got up and got something decent on, the fire was already going in the living room. They had long sticks with rags soaked in something, burning on the end. Someone had thrown one in through the broken window.”

  My head spun, searching the garage, counting people. Seven, including me, Daisy, and Libby.

  “Where’s Dizzy now?” I asked, peering at the fire through one of the small garage windows. “I hope he didn’t do anything stupid, like chase these people on foot.”

  The silence was my answer. Each passing second my stomach grew tighter. I heard a whimper, then a chair move. Daisy’s voice was next.

  “I’m so sorry, Marge,” she whispered. I turned and saw Daisy hugging Marge and Libby.

  “Took one to the head early in the war,” Lettie continued, her voice forced and full of sadness. “He was dead by the time I got to the living room. I grabbed the gun and shot at someone going by the front window on a horse. Shot the person, then the horse.”

  I stared at the road. “That the fellow lying out there?” I pointed out the window.

  “Nope, that’s the one Dizzy got,” she answered. “My rider never fell. The horse neither. But they didn’t make it far.”

  Against enormous odds, we hadn’t encountered them on the road. “Where’d they go?”

  “It all lasted about two minutes,” Lettie stated, pushing way from her chair. “I saw the four remaining people dash off to the west, straight through the brush. You go look there when it’s light. You find tracks. Probably within a couple hundred yards you’ll find that rider and his horse, dead as well.”

  Closing my eyes, I tried to imagine the battle. I supposed that the gang believed they’d find everyone asleep when they arrived. Probably the last thing they expected was a hail of bullets. Once in the battle, they decided to burn the place to the ground and come back for whatever spoils they could find later.

  I felt Lettie’s shoulder against my arm. Revenge could wait, I decided. We had real issues before I ran off seeking vengeance for my friend’s death.

  “I’m so cold,” Violet cried from behind me.

  Reaching down, I lifted the garage door. Immediately warmth struck my face. Most times it would have been a good feeling. Now it reminded me of too much bad.

  “We can’t stay in the garage,” I said, trusting only Lettie was listening. “We don’t have a heat source.”

  “I’m sure you have an idea of what we need to do,” she replied, stretching her wrinkled hands towards the fire.

  I turned to face her directly. Our eyes, worn out as they might be, met. “My cabin,” I whispered. “Put three more miles between us and them. Maybe end this.”

  I saw her nodded slightly.

  “But we need to get out of here, and soon,” I continued. “We can’t take a chance of them coming back or us freezing to death.”

  “Nothing here for us anymore,” Lettie added, turning her eyes back to her blazing, crumbling home. “We start new down at your place.”

  Yeah, but there were a lot of issues before us. Neither Lettie nor myself seemed game to discuss them, not yet at least.

  Year 4 - early spring - WOP

  I had thought getting past the still burning home would be the worst part of our three-mile journey to my cabin. I was afraid people wouldn’t be able to tear themselves away from home. One by one, I would have to drag them from the garage, past the blaze, and to the road. I was wrong.

  Perhaps leaving the place behind would be the worst. Or the cold we’d find 100 yards beyond the fire.

  But all of that was nothing compared to the walk itself.

  A cold wind had picked up, unnoticed by Daisy or myself on our return trip from Covington. The breeze blew from the south, directly into our faces. Not enough to struggle against; just enough to toss snow at us, stinging our faces. Insults after injury, my grandfather had always said, were the worst.

  Hoping we could make the trek in an hour was a joke. But that was my original plan. However, we were grossly under-prepared.

  Marge and Violet wore rain boots, something far more appropriate for the summer than now. Marge had given her winter coat to her daughter, choosing instead to wrap herself in a blanket for the journey.

  Nate seemed to be somewhat prepared, though his sneakers wouldn’t provide much insulation from the dampness and cold. Lettie had on her usual winter jacket, and no gloves. She detested anything covering her hands she told me once. Now was no different.

  We all wore proper hats and scarves, thanks to a bag of extras Lettie stashed in her garage. That was about the only thing we had going in our favor.

/>   Once we were several hundred yards down the road I stopped and organized our group. Libby, still sound asleep, laid on the sled between Violet’s shaking legs. I noticed the small knapsack of food Marge had grabbed somehow. I thought of five loaves and two fish. I sure hoped there was a miracle when I opened that bag later.

  Nate stood on one side of his mother, with Daisy on the other, helping Marge along. Next to me, Lettie wrapped a frail arm around mine.

  Seven I counted, nodding at Daisy. Though I couldn’t see much of her face underneath her blue woolen scarf, I did notice her nod back. We were ready.

  “If anyone needs a break,” I said confidently, “we all stop together. If you’re feet get cold, we’ll wrap them in a blanket for a bit. Everyone can take turns riding; I have plenty of energy left.” It was an all out lie, but it was my lie.

  The group stared at me, lit to an orange glow by the fire a quarter mile back. No one looked ready, but we had to leave.

  “Okay, let’s go,” I called out. Turning, I adjusted Lettie’s arm in mine and felt the rope dig into my waist with the first step. “Only three miles, we can do this.”

  I could still see the flames burning high into the night sky when Lettie begged me to stop. Maybe a quarter mile, I figured, but not a half. This was awful.

  For some unknown reason the snow was deeper to the south. And while going northward the western side of the road was almost bare, the same was not true in the opposite direction.

  Marge and Daisy were already a dozen yards or more behind. Nate had abandoned them and stood next to the sled. Lettie climbed on next to Violet and shoved her body under a blanket.

  We were going to die on this stretch of road. It was so clear to me. And I didn’t think anyone in our group cared if we did or not.

  Yet, I insisted we push onward.

  Lettie wasn’t any heavier than Violet. And since the teen insisted on walking beside me, the sled pulled the same. Not easily, that is.

  Beside me, Violet cried, sniffling and sucking snot back into her frozen nostrils. Several times I squeezed her tight, both times feeling the trembling. Perhaps cold, perhaps sadness, perhaps both.

  Another stop came quicker than the first. Daisy this time. She didn’t think she could go on. Her legs, she claimed; she had spent the last of her energy.

  Onto the sled she piled, against her strongest desires. We had no time for discussions I told her. It had to be this way.

  Marge and Violet walked beside me, their arms wrapped around the other’s waist. Nate slid under the rope and helped me pull. Though it didn’t help much, it was just enough to lighten the load a little.

  His breathing quickly became as labored as mine. His mother and sister marched a few steps in front of us, plowing the through drifts in order to make it tolerable.

  Above us, a clear night sky lit by billions of stars guided our way. If we were lucky, we’d beat daylight to my place. But with each step I’d doubt that would happen.

  A fourth break, followed by a fifth and then a sixth, slowed our progress. Lettie and Daisy switched boots with Marge and Violet. Each removed and replaced one boot at a time, sharing it with the other. The teen only screamed once during the hasty ordeal, and that was because of a bare foot dropping into the deep snow.

  Back at it again, I pulled with the last of my waning energy. Beside me, Nate moaned, “I can’t feel my feet!” though he continued to trudge through the snow.

  I rubbed the top of his head, glancing ahead. “Up there,” I said, pointing to a spot some 200 yards ahead. “That broken black pine that hugs down in the road. That’s five minutes from my cabin. We’re almost there.”

  But five minutes at a near jog is longer when you’re traveling less than one mile an hour. Almost five times longer.

  Just before the last bend leading down the homes stretch, we encountered a monstrous drift of snow, blocking our path. I left the sled behind, forging ahead to create a small path through the drift. Going off road at that point would have been dangerous, perhaps deadly. I knew the ditch was a lot deeper on that stretch. Thus, I couldn’t determine just how deep the snow might be. So I battled and eventually won.

  Walking back to my group, I noticed Daisy on her feet again.

  “I can make it,” she claimed, taking the lead. My energy was gone, so arguing at that point was out of the question.

  Daisy led well, guiding us safely through the drift and another 300 yards to my driveway.

  I offered a sigh and a short prayer of thanks. It was a mighty short thanks before I noticed the drift covering my front door, our only entry.

  It took three of us another quarter hour at least to remove the snow so I could pry open the door. Hustling everyone inside, the cold slapped our faces, reminding us the ordeal was not yet over. I dug through the box next to the door, searching for paper and kindling.

  Daisy scurried about, lighting several candles. Bringing me a match to light the fire, she rested her mitten-covered hand on my arm.

  “We made it,” she whispered, her breath noticeable in the cabin air. “We made it.”

  I opened the damper and flu, allowing the fire as much oxygen as it needed. Throwing a few larger hunks of kindling, I watched Daisy wrap Libby up in several blankets. Somehow, mercifully, the child had slept through the entire ordeal.

  Daisy pulled Nate’s shoes from his feet and leaned him next to Libby. Wrapping his stocking covered feet in several layers of towels, she pulled one of her daughter’s blankets around the boy. I noticed his eyes flittering. Hopefully he was warm enough.

  “I think the pulling on the sled may have saved him,” Daisy emitted to the group. It may have saved me as well.

  Scanning my family, I observed what the ravages of war looked like. Marge was dead in all but body. Her drawn face stared at the fire, her eyes now lifeless. Beside her, Violet clung to an arm, gazing at her lap.

  Lettie sat cross-legged on a hard wooden chair, stroking her cheeks, probably trying to get the feeling back in them. Daisy took a spot next to Violet, laying her head on the teen’s shoulder and wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

  “It’ll take a good three hours before that fire is warm enough for us to even open our coats,” Lettie cawed in her usual matter of fact fashion. “Until then, we need to check on the little ones from time to time. Make sure they’re warm enough. Can’t let them freeze to death now.”

  I nodded and noticed I was the only one responding.

  “We got a little food with us,” she continued, holding her hands towards the flames. “You run out and get us some snow to melt, Bob. That way we’ll have water. When the sun is high enough to warm the place in a little while, we can rest. After that, we can figure out what to do next.”

  Staring out the east window, I noticed the black turning gray. Soon it would be orange. Except this time, it would be sunlight, instead of flames. I turned back to the fire, adding several more sticks. Lettie was right; we sure as hell needed a plan. Otherwise, all of this was for naught.

  Year 4 - early spring - WOP

  Through tiny slits, I watched the sun rise above the eastern tree-line. A cloudless day greeted me, us. Maybe some additional warmth would follow.

  Rising from my chair by the window, I leaned the 30-30 against the wall. My eyes roamed the others while I stretched my tired back.

  Lettie slept next to Marge on the couch. Sitting upright, the old woman’s chin rested on her chest. Marge was awake, but barely. Her eyes fluttered open as I moved. I couldn’t tell if she was looking at me, or just staring blankly.

  Beside her, Daisy and Violet slept, leaning against one another. I noticed their hands, still intertwined. Next to the pair, Libby and Nate slept, curled into tiny balls. Wrapped in two blankets, I noticed Nate’s arms hanging over the girl’s body as if he were still protecting her.

  The stove radiated enough heat to be felt throughout the small room. With the bedroom door shut, its job was much easier. I wondered how long it would take for that room to w
arm?

  Sipping a cup of water at least three hours old, I heard someone move. Lettie. Slowly she pushed away from the couch and dipped her own cup into the pail of melted snow.

  “Haven’t been down here in a while,” she commented, scratching at the side of her face. “It’ll do, for now.”

  We had issues, serious issues. And if we didn’t address them soon, they’d become even more serious problems.

  Resting a hand on Lettie’s shoulder, I stared into her equally tired eyes. “I hate to do this but we need to wake the other adults, sooner rather than later. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

  Lettie nodded her agreement. “Give them a few more minutes of sleep and then I’ll wake them.”

  I wandered back to my post, watching for any trouble that I knew probably wasn’t coming. At least not soon.

  “Give them another hour,” I replied, yawning. “Then we need to talk.”

  We sat in a circle, each on our own chair. Beside me was Marge, next to her was Lettie, followed by Daisy, and finally Violet. No one looked refreshed or happy. Everyone still wore their jackets, some a little more opened than others.

  If the eyes were the gateway to the soul, we were all dead. Perhaps our bodies didn’t know that yet, but our faces displayed death.

  “First off,” I began, sounding exhausted, “is water. A person can only live a few days without water. Fortunately, we have a plentiful supply of it lying outside.”

  I’d hoped that would lighten a few of the dreary faces around me but it didn’t. I pushed forward.

  “We have enough guns and ammo to last us for a while,” I continued, rubbing my hands and blowing into them. “I checked the 30-30 this morning and there are still 12 shots in it.” The next news required a more delicate approach.

  “My 45 has ten shots, the 20-gauge four,” I paused, looking up. I had almost called it ‘Dizzy’s 20-gauge’ in error. It was mine now. I wondered if Marge noticed my hesitation.