by AJ Powers
They clumsily figured out how to eat them and were both shocked by the taste; the creek food was delicious. All the more reason why Clay was annoyed that he hadn’t been collecting them all along. He tossed Kelsey the last bottle of water from his pack, and she sipped it slowly.
As dinner came to a close, reality snuck back into the conversation. “So, did they hurt your knee?” Clay asked.
Kelsey looked down at her leg; she was in the middle of drinking some water when he asked. She placed the cap on the water and set it down. “Actually, no,” she replied. “A few years ago my knee got bashed pretty good. Most of the time it’s fine. I can usually run on it with no problem, but every now and then—if I step the wrong way—it’ll buckle on me. It can swell up pretty bad sometimes,” she said as she gently rubbed it with her hand. “I’ll be fine in a few days.”
“Well, I’m just glad I was nearby,” he said as he looked into her eyes, a smile painted across his face. She flashed a quick grin and then took another sip of water.
Clay noticed she was keeping her guard up. Given the circumstances, he understood why. He was a little surprised with how forward he had been, though. He knew he was flirting with her—maybe even laying it on a little thick at times—and hoped it wasn’t making her uncomfortable. But this was uncharted territory for him. Since he was forced to mature past his 13 years so quickly after the earth exploded, the thought of a romantic relationship had never been a priority. He found himself far too busy, overwhelmed, or sorrowful to think about anything as trivial as a girlfriend. That and the average woman he ran into didn’t exactly spark romantic desires. With the exception of the blue-haired Rose, he couldn’t recall anyone he had met recently that he had been remotely attracted to. But Kelsey wasn’t just attractive; she was stunning. And as she sat across from him, the flickering orange glow of the campfire illuminating her face, he wondered, Could this be love? Clay tried to shrug off the absurd notion.
“What brings you out this way? Do you live nearby?” she asked.
“I was actually heading back from a trading post about 15 miles north of here.”
“Liberty Township?” she asked.
“You know the place?”
“I was just there myself, actually. Small world. Was looking for some meds but no luck.”
Clay contemplated offering her one of the bottles he had in his bag. These days that’d be the equivalent of a hundred long stem roses and a colossal box of chocolates. But he knew he couldn’t make such a grand gesture at the expense of his family, though, and quickly dismissed the idea.
“Somebody sick?” he asked.
“No. Just looking to trade them.”
Clay was relieved. He would have felt really guilty if she had a sick loved one in need, while he had two bottles sitting just a few feet away with no immediate need for them. As much as he already liked this girl, he didn’t know her, and he had his own family to worry about back home.
“So, where are ya from?” he asked her.
She was reluctant to tell him, but she realized she wouldn’t be able to get home without his help—if he was willing to help, that is. “I live on a ranch about 20 miles southwest of here, I think. Not quite sure where we are.”
“We’re pretty close to the Woodridge exit 256, I think.”
“Okay. So yeah, pretty close to 20 miles,” she said.
Clay knew it was going to take at least another two solid days of walking with that bum knee to get her back home. It wasn’t going to be easy, and he could already hear Megan chewing him out for being gone longer than expected. He didn’t blame her for that, though. Oh, how life would be easier if he could just call her to let her know he was going to be delayed. Instead, she would probably be up all night worrying about whether or not her little brother was ever coming home. He hated that he put her through that kind of worry so frequently, but it was just part of life nowadays.
“So is this a family farm or something?”
“Nah,” she said as she tossed the shell of her last crayfish into the fire and licked her fingers. “It’s owned by a man named Watson. Me and my—” she paused abruptly, like she was startled. Clay looked behind him almost expecting to see someone approaching, then back at her. “Sorry. Thought I heard something. Anyway, my sister, Dakota and I stumbled across the ranch, and he let us stay.”
“Sounds like a nice guy.”
“Yeah, he is,” Kelsey said, but her face, for a brief moment, suggested otherwise.
Clay could tell she was getting a little uncomfortable. He switched topics, and they began talking about some of their favorite movies. It wasn’t surprising that they were on opposite ends of the spectrum. Clay was more into the action and sci-fi movies while Kelsey preferred the dramas and chick flicks, though she admitted she liked watching a good action flick from time to time. She’d kill for the chance to watch a movie, even a foreign film. It had been years since she watched a television.
As much as Clay hated to close down the conversation, it was getting late and he knew they had a long couple of days ahead of them. He pulled out a Mylar survival blanket from his pack. He unfolded it, shook it a few times, and then draped it over her. It was intended for two people, and she was keenly aware of the excessive material.
Kelsey hesitated for a moment. She didn’t want to speak up, but felt obligated—it was the least she could do for him. “There’s plenty of space if you want to share.” Though Kelsey didn’t intend for there to be any underlying message with the statement, she knew it could be taken that way.
He wrestled with that idea. On one hand, they would certainly benefit from having two bodies beneath the blanket to keep warm. On the other, he was 20, his adrenaline had spiked, and she was beautiful. He didn’t trust himself in that situation, and that would open up a massive can of worms he couldn’t deal with right now. Not to mention, he knew it would be wrong.
“That’s all right. You go ahead and get some rest. I am actually quite comfy temperature-wise, I don’t think I’ll need a blanket. Plus, I kick in my sleep anyway. I would hate to make that leg any worse,” he said adding a nervous laugh.
Kelsey could see the internal struggle. She felt both relieved and respected with the decision. Just about any other guy would have tried to take advantage of the situation the instant she offered. When Clay didn’t, she realized that he was unlike any other man she had met. It comforted her to know that there were still some good men left in the world. But despite her prayers for such a man to come into her life, she wouldn’t allow it to be someone as goodhearted as Clay.
Eventually Kelsey drifted to sleep, but Clay was wide awake. Sleep was held at bay because he was amped up on adrenaline from the kill, and his mind was racing with feelings about the woman sleeping just a few feet away. In addition to that, he was cold and just couldn’t get comfortable enough to doze. He watched the hours pass on his watch, and before long, it was almost time to begin their journey. At that point, falling asleep would do more harm than good.
Kelsey began to stir, her breathing becoming more controlled and less involuntary.
“Morning,” Clay said just above a whisper in case she hadn’t actually woken up.
She laid there in silence for a moment. “Mornin’,” she replied with a hoarse voice, her eyes still closed.
The entrance to the cave was far enough back that none of the morning light could reach them, not that there was really any light at that time of the morning anyhow. The fire had all but burned out. Only small pockets of glowing embers and an occasional popping sound remained. Clay wound up the flashlight and turned it on. Though her eyes were already shut, Kelsey squeezed them tighter and rolled over, turning away from the potent light source.
“It’s almost six,” Clay told her in a hushed voice. “We should get going.”
Kelsey wanted to contend that it was too early, but she knew how slow she was going to move; every minute would have an impact. Without protest, she sat up and began to fold up the Mylar blank
et and placed it back in the bag. Clay doused the charred wood with the water from the can that had been their crayfish pot. It hissed and hurled smoke into his face causing him to cough. Before they left, he filled the hydration pack and the two empty bottles he had with water from the stream.
Using a compass, they began their trek. They eased into the journey for the first couple of miles, moving slowly and carefully. Though Kelsey had slept through the night, her knee was still quite tender and stiff from sleeping on the hard ground. He gave her a couple of ibuprofen for the swelling just before they left, but it was having little effect.
Clay wasn’t sure how he was going to make it. Fatigue had already started to harass him, and they had at least another 15 hours of traveling ahead of them. Sometimes he wished that he didn’t get so worked up from killing, that it didn’t cause him to become so unsettled. On the other hand, he feared the day when he no longer was affected by taking the life of another person.
About six hours into the journey, they decided to take a rest inside a large electronics store. They squeezed in through a half-open automatic door that had been partially knocked off its track and walked cautiously across the pillaged store, keeping alert for any threats.
Aisle shelves were bare. Several had been toppled over in a panicked rush to take all that could be carried or carted off—as if having 50 copies of the latest military shooter were going to put food on the table during the apocalypse. Since the collapse, Clay had walked through a number of stores just like this, and they all looked the same. He remained perplexed as to why getting a new flat screen or tablet computer was on anyone’s list of priorities after what had happened. Sure, there were various snack foods and sodas near the cash registers for the obligatory impulse buy, but why would anyone waste their time and resources on getting electronic entertainment during such a crisis?
Those types of stores did sell one item in particular that still had quite a bit of value, though. Unfortunately, they were also the number one targeted item immediately following the social unrest. Cell phones. Prior to the fall of cellular communication, most people snatched them for the face value—after all, one needs to have the latest and greatest smartphone to ring in the end of the world—however, the real value was inside. Gold. Due to its conduction properties, small amounts of gold were often used in phones. Clay once heard that approximately 1,000 cell phones contained an ounce of gold. He wasn’t sure if that was accurate or not, but there was still a demand for them if you knew the right trader. Vlad would buy them, and Clay had been saving up what he found for the last year. He had 17 so far and was waiting to get to 25 before trading them to Vlad. They wouldn’t yield him much—a few small items or a gram of silver perhaps—but it was something.
Clay and Kelsey walked to the rear of the sales floor and through an open doorway. The door had long been kicked off its hinges as the store was looted. The stockroom was a massive area with a concrete slab floor, unfinished walls, and a corrugated metal roof. Never intended to be seen by the customers, the room was built for function, rather than aesthetics. As expected, the shelves were emptied, boxes and other garbage strewn about as if a tornado had ripped through. One of the loading dock doors was open, providing a reasonable amount of light for them to sit down and eat in a relatively sheltered area.
Kelsey sat down at a small round table in the far corner of the room and enjoyed another helping of crackers while Clay looked around for anything of use. He found a half empty box of ballpoint pens and some paperclips. Neither had any real trade value, but back home pens were still a high-in-demand product for the arts and crafts room.
Finding nothing else, Clay pulled up a chair and sat across from Kelsey who was taking small bites out of each cracker to make them last just a bit longer. She handed the last three to Clay who gladly accepted and popped an entire cracker into his mouth.
“So, how old is your sister?” Clay asked with a mouthful of food.
“She’s almost three,” Kelsey said with smile thinking about her. “She’s a sweet girl.”
Clay got ready to ask her a question then thought better of it, “What happened to your mom?” he asked anyway.
Kelsey’s reaction was indifferent to the question, catching Clay off guard. “She died shortly after Dakota was born.”
Clay frowned. Complications during pregnancy and delivery had become more common for women. The unexpectedly high mortality rate during birth complications in the past seven years was a grim reminder of just how critical even simple procedures such as blood transfusions and cesareans were—procedures that almost everyone in developed nations took for granted.
“Sorry to hear that. I know what that’s like,” he said with a somber tone.
“What about you?” Kelsey asked, “Got any family at home? A wife? Kids?” she asked realizing that he would have barely been a teenager beforehand.
Clay wasn’t sure how much he should read into that question. Was she prodding about a wife or girlfriend because she was interested in him? Or was it just small talk? He was bothered that he scrutinized every question like that, especially when she had not really given him any reason to believe she was interested. “My sister and I take care of some kids who also lost their parents. We’re kind of like a post-apocalyptic orphanage,” he said with a chuckle.
She smiled at him, not realizing just how many kids he was talking about. Regardless, she was impressed with his maturity. “Just the one sister?” she followed up.
Grief washed across Clay’s face before he forced a weak smile, “Yeah it’s just me and her, now.”
Kelsey picked up on his hint. She felt guilty for bringing it up. “Well, I think it’s really great what you and your sister are doing. Not many folks in the world are willing to help out a strangers’ kids…Not many folks would have stopped to save me, either,” she said as she started to reach across the table for his hand, but quickly withdrew once she realized it. “You’re a good man, Clay,” she said, hoping he hadn’t noticed the absent-minded gesture.
They finished up with lunch and did a quick check of supplies. They would have to be conservative with their water intake but should have enough to make it the rest of the way, even if they didn’t find any streams or water sources along the way.
They went out through the large bay door. Clay jumped off the loading dock then helped Kelsey down. Parked just a few yards away was a tractor-trailer. Clay searched the cab for anything of value. Nothing.
Though more populated areas like this were more likely to turn up some goods, Clay’s lack of sleep and Kelsey’s injury made it too dangerous for them to stick around and search the area. They could easily be targeted given their physical and mental state, so they moved on.
Clay’s body ached from head to toe, and he had developed a nasty headache. He tried not to show that he was in pain. He didn’t need Kelsey worrying about him being able to get her home safely.
The two talked quietly throughout the day, learning more about each other’s past, making sure to only talk about life before the world went belly up. Kelsey talked about school, her obsession with penguins, and her undying love for a good hot fudge sundae. Clay talked about the various sports he played, fishing, shooting, and his favorite band. He talked a little about Megan, but kept the topic more positive in nature.
Despite being injured and exhausted, they were able to travel a bit further than Clay had anticipated. The sun started to set; they had to find shelter. The two made their way back towards the highway to get their bearings. They only had about eight more miles to go, according to Kelsey.
A few hundred yards off the highway was an old apartment complex. The buildings themselves had not been in all that great of shape prior to the eruptions, let alone after Mother Nature had pummeled the world. However, it did provide some refuge and would do just fine for the night.
The air inside was stale and reeked of death—most likely an unfortunate animal, or so Clay hoped. Cockroaches and other critters scurried along th
e floor and walls providing a rather creepy ambience. The apartment had four levels, and Clay had decided it was going to be best to stay on the second floor. That way, they were high enough so that nobody could smash a window and be in the room before they realized what was going on. But low enough that if someone did come into the apartment, they could make a quick escape out the window. Though the thought of jumping out a second story window with her hurt knee made Kelsey cringe.
Clay cleared each room on the lower floor. The apartments were plundered and lifeless like most buildings in the city. The second floor was the same. He didn’t bother checking the other floors because he wasn’t as concerned with people above hearing them; their movement would echo on the floors below alerting Clay and Kelsey to their presence. They stopped at the end of the long hallway on the second floor, the furthest apartment from the stairwell, and Clay cleared the final room before helping Kelsey inside.
The apartment was cramped; a small living area and kitchenette made up the room just inside the door. A short hallway lead to a nearly jail-sized bedroom with the bathroom just across the hall. The room had a twin-sized bed in one corner; the mattress slumped halfway off the bed. A few feet away from the bed was a crib. Clay shuddered as he began to wonder what happened to this family. Did they make it out of the city before everything imploded? Judging by the remaining clothes scattered across the floor, it was just a mother and her daughter. Perhaps they made it to one of the camps. He then wondered if they did, was it one of the ones hit with the flu or attacked by mobs? Every place Clay visited had a story to tell; he hated that he always wanted to know more.
Clay lifted the mattress back onto the box springs. Kelsey sat down, letting out a sigh of relief as she gingerly bent over to take off her shoes. She pushed herself back on the bed and leaned up against the wall closing her eyes. Even though the building smelled awful and the presence of bugs and rodents was overwhelming, it felt safe—at least, more so than camping outside.
Clay went out to look around the apartment a bit more thoroughly. He first stopped by the bathroom and looked for any sort of medication. He found a pair of tweezers and an unopened toothbrush in the medicine cabinet. Below the sink, he found a nearly empty bottle of rubbing alcohol. He thoroughly searched around the toilet, including inside the tank. “Be thorough in everything you do,” his father used to tell him. It was true whether playing football or searching a moldy old dilapidated apartment for supplies. Though nothing had ever turned up inside toilet tanks, it never stopped him from looking.