Never Look Back: A Dystopian Novel

by Mortimer, L. C.

  Chapter 13

  “I’m ready to go home.” The words flew out of my mouth in a slow, steady drawl. The alcohol I’d been downing for the last half hour was finally starting to kick in. My entire body felt warm and flushed and, for the first time in days, I felt relaxed. I met Brian’s cool, steady gaze and wondered what he would say. He was still sweaty and covered in blood from the morning’s work. The rain, after three days, had finally stopped and we’d been able to bury his dead.

  I’d never been a part of planning a funeral before. The words we’d both spoken had been brief and polite, though his were naturally more smooth and personal than mine. Sarah and George had been good to me. They had shown kindness in a world of death, and I would never forget it. But now they were gone, and there was nothing holding me here but Brian. While the last three days had been full of passion – it was, after all, one way to deal with your pain – it was time to leave. I didn’t want to stay in this empty house. I wanted to find my mom.

  “Come with me.” I said it quickly before I got too scared. The boundaries of our relationship had not been defined. We had not said “I love you” or “I like you” or “I think you’re something great.” We were simply companions. We were just two people who met one another’s carnal needs. I would like to think we were also friends, but we were, at the very least, able to help each other stay alive. And I would take what I could get. It wasn’t the time to be begging someone to be my boyfriend. It wasn’t the time to define our relationship or talk about where we were going. That wasn’t necessary, mostly because nobody was going anywhere anymore. The world wasn’t about love and peace. Now the world was about survival, about who you could count on to keep you alive. And I felt like I could count on Brian.

  Without hesitation, without contemplation, without overthinking it or making me wait, he said “Okay. We’ll leave in an hour.” I was surprised, but nodded. I don’t know why I thought he wouldn’t want to come with me. It couldn’t be worse, I knew, than letting him stay in this empty house full of memories and ghosts.

  I downed the rest of the vodka, grimacing as it made its way down. Brian did the same and then it was time to pack up the truck. Brian’s pickup had a half tank of gas, which would be just enough to get us to my parents’ home if we didn’t hit traffic, road blocks, or hooligans. We had been locked up for weeks without seeing the outside world. Neither one of us knew what to expect, what to prepare for, or what to anticipate.

  “What should we bring?” While my home wasn’t more than an hour’s drive from Brian’s place, the chances of us making it back to his home were slim. There was no guarantee that we would be able to fill the gas tank unless we miraculously found a place with power. There was no guarantee it would be safe to travel again, or even this time, for that matter. We needed to prepare for everything.

  “Prepare for the worst, Paige. Weren’t you ever a Girl Scout?”

  I shook my head. I’d grown up on a farm, but there had not been a local Girl Scout troop. I’d begged my mom to let me be a Brownie, but she hadn’t been able to justify driving half an hour each way for weekly troop meetings. It just wasn’t financially feasible, not on her salary.

  Brian handed me a few plastic bags and motioned toward the cupboards. “Fill these up with everything you can. Soup, crackers, anything that’s left. Skip the cleaning supplies, but grab the bars of soap beneath the sink. I’ll get the ammo and the guns. And grab any knives. Leave them on the counter and I’ll get them. There should be at least a few steak knives that are still sharp.”

  Within moments, the plastic bags were full of all sorts of canned goods. I carried them to the truck and shoved them in the back seat. I covered the bags with a thick wool blanket, which would come in handy if the car broke down, but that also kept the food supply from prying eyes. I found three decent knives in the kitchen and Brian showed me how to wrap them carefully in a towel. Those he packed himself along with his guns. He gave me one to carry. He kept one, too.

  “What about clothes? My dad has some stuff, but I don’t think anything will fit you.” I still had an entire dresser of clothing in my old upstairs bedroom, so I didn’t need anything personal. “Not a bad idea,” Brian grabbed a backpack and filled it with underwear, a few t-shirts, and some jeans. As he headed back downstairs, he grabbed George and Sarah’s wedding photo from the wall and added it to his backpack. I grabbed the quilt from the sofa and we walked outside.

  “Are you going to lock the doors?” I asked, as Brian headed toward the truck.

  “No. If anyone comes to loot, I’d rather they walk right in rather than breaking glass all over the place. At least if we ever come back here I won’t have to be replacing windows.”

  I wasn’t sure if I agreed with him, but it was his house. In many ways, his idea made sense. I just hated to think about anyone else coming inside the house. Even if we weren’t living in it anymore, it felt strange to think of someone else coming inside. It felt like a violation, almost. I didn’t like it. I kept silent and slid into the passenger seat and locked my door.

  “Do you know how to get to Ferndale?” I asked him.

  “I’ll have us there in fifty.”

  True to his word, Brian shoved his foot on the gas and brought us quickly onto the road. We breezed down gravel road after gravel road until we finally pulled up near the highway. Before we approached the pavement, Brian issued a warning.

  “Keep an eye out. We need to cross to the other side, but the intersection is going to bring us out in the open.” His voice was firm, and I stared intently out the window as we quickly crossed the highway to the gravel back road on the opposite side. I hadn’t seen any people as we crossed. I hadn’t seen anything. There weren’t even any cars. I had at least expected to see cars. We weren’t that far from the city.

  “Nobody tried to escape?”

  “I doubt anyone got this far.”

  “But why not?”

  “They probably all started getting sick before they could get far. Dead bodies in cars can’t drive. I’d bet you that there are hundreds of cars just outside city limits, full of families and rotting flesh.”

  “Well, that’s incredibly graphic.”

  “Doesn’t make it any less true.”

  He was right, and I flipped on the radio to see if I could hear anything as we drove. My phone had long ago died and neither one of us had a car charger for it, so there was no chance of being able to call or text my mom. Despite trying both AM and FM, the radio was only static and after a few minutes Brian nonchalantly switched it off. I wanted to protest, to complain, but I remained silent. I knew he was right; there was no chance of hearing anything.

  I wanted to believe that somewhere people were okay, that somewhere the virus hadn’t struck, that it was only a matter of time before power, sanity, and hope was restored to Kansas, but I knew better. Elizabeth’s face haunted me. I should have given her a burial. I should have done more. I should have been faster, left sooner, been more prepared. I knew, deep down, that there was no time for that sort of thinking, but it didn’t make me feel any better. I still felt like a lousy friend.

  We rode in silence along the bumpy road for almost half an hour, breaking the silence only to clarify which road to turn on and which ones to avoid. Aside from the occasional downed tree or inconveniently low-hanging branch, the roads were clear. There were no infected strangers chasing us, no one begging for rides, no one crouching in the bushes waiting to shoot at us. I had half expected that, and had been carefully staring out the window the entire drive.

  I wondered if the highway would have raiders carefully prowling on unsuspecting vehicles,but I guessed that enough people had seen scary movies to know not to be stupid. With the widespread availability of horror flicks, no one had any excuses not to at least be cautious when traveling, especially without a radio or any sort of warning system.

  Finally, we were hitting more paved roads than graveled ones and I started to get excited. We were almost there. Al
most home. It wouldn’t be long now. I wanted to wear my own well-fitting clothes again, pull on some tennis shoes that were actually appropriately proportioned to my feet, crawl into my own bed and absorb the softness of the covers. I wanted to hug my dad, kiss my mom, keep them both as close as I could and not let them go. I wanted to explore my parents’ land with Brian, show him my old stomping grounds. I wanted to have him all to myself and just not have to worry about anything or anyone. I just wanted to relax.

  The squeak of the breaks and the jerk of my body forward were unexpected and harsh. My head hit the dash before I could brace myself and the thin, streaming pool of blood that crawled down the side of my face made its way to my mouth. I spat the thick, rancid liquid from myself, feeling disoriented and dizzy. My hands reached to the cut, wondering how big it was, wondering why he had stopped the car like that, but he pushed me down in the seat before I could check the mirror.

  “Not a move,” was all he said, and I felt the car reversing and spinning around. I tried to sit up but Brian held me still with his steady hand. “Don’t try, just lay there and be quiet.” He was driving fast, I felt nauseous and wondered if I was going to puke. “There was someone waiting up ahead. He’s following us now, but still keeping his distance.I couldn’t tell how well armed he is, but there are at least two separate vehicles now. Best if nobody sees you, Hon.”

  My heart leapt momentarily. Brian had not been one for pet names and had rarely referred to me as anything but Paige. I wanted to read into his comment. I wanted to think about how maybe we would get to fall in love and become a couple and have a romantic life together, but the ever-growing rational side of me knew neither of us would probably live long enough to see that happen. Besides, with the world dead, who would even come to a wedding?

  “How well do you know these woods?”

  “Let me peek,” I said, climbing up slowly, barely lifting my eyes over the dash.

  The line of overgrown oak trees guarding the road, offering up their immense branches were my favorite during the warm summer months. Theyalways made this road easy to drive since you never had to worry about the sun getting in your eyes or too much rain hitting your car. Now most of the leaves had fallen, but the menacing branches were telltale. You couldn’t mistake those oaks for anyone’s but Howard’s.

  “This is Mr. Howard’s farm,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure why. No one else was close enough to hear me.Brian’s eyes never left the road as he sped at an ever-quickening pace. “A mile up there’s an intersection. Turn right and it’ll bring us to his house.”

  “What’s at the house? Is there a place to hide?” I sensed the urgency in Brian’s voice and I understood that we were in a dangerous situation now. This was serious. This could be it.

  I realized that Brian intended for us to ditch the truck. I fought the urge to peek back at the cars behind us. I wondered how many men there were and what they wanted. What would happen if they caught us? Yeah, we had weapons, but two against two is much different than two against four or two against six. Would they capture us? Would they shoot us? Would they keep me as a prisoner? My head ran through a million scenarios. I couldn’t stop thinking, couldn’t stop worrying until Brian brought me back to the present.

  “Just think, Paige,” he told me. “Is there anywhere we can hide at the house?”

  “There’s the house, a barn,” I thought for a moment. It had been years since I’d been on the farm. Once I’d started high school I didn’t have as much time for visiting the old farming couple who lived in the rustic old house. “Oh, there’s a storage shed in the back. Mr. Howard got it a few years ago.”

  “Anything else?” Brian urged. “They’re gaining on us, Paige. We’re going to have to run for it. We need somewhere real we can hide, somewhere they won’t look. I’d rather not be crawling under a bed when that’s the first place they’ll check.”

  “A storm cellar,” I said suddenly. “Back in the woods, about 40 yards behind the house and hidden behind some trees. I don’t think anyone knows it’s there and unless you’re looking for it, you can’t find it.”

  “Do you know how to find it?”

  “I know how to find it.”

  Chapter 14

  He stopped the truck and we hit the ground running, not stopping to look back, not bothering to grab any of our stuff. I didn’t even close the door to the truck, which bothered me, but not enough to go back and shut it. I took the lead and Brian followed close behind.

  “Let’s go, Baby,” he told me firmly, staring at me. I wanted to gaze into his eyes, but there was no time for that. Just his words were comfort enough, strength enough to know I could do this. I could save us. I could hide us. I could.

  We darted quickly into the woods behind the house, just in time to hear the cars that were following us screech into the driveway and stop. The doors opened and slammed shut. There was scuffling and scampering. I couldn’t tell how many people there were.

  “Let’s go!” Someone shouted. I heard footsteps and other voices, but we were amongst the trees now and I couldn’t make out what anyone else was saying. I didn’t bother to speak, didn’t want to risk being overheard. It took only a moment to find the storm cellar. It was nestled beneath two weeping willows whose branches were so dense you couldn’t see the opening to the cellar unless you were looking for it. Good. That was what we wanted.

  The wooden door was rotted and weak. I grasped the handle and yanked it open. I cringed at the creak it made, but Brian practically pushed me inside and I darted down into the darkness to wait. He slipped down beside me, closing the door as quietly as possible. And then we waited. The cellar was musty and slimy. I didn’t dare try to creep back further into the darkness. The Howards had showed me the cellar as a child and warned me never to try to play inside of it.

  “There might be wasps,” Mr. Howard had said. “And heaven knows what else.” They only used the cellar for tornados, which didn’t occur nearly as frequently as the general population liked to imagine, so it was no wonder there was nothing here but dust and cobwebs. My breathing was fast and heavy. Were the men coming? Would they find us? Brian was silent as we sat in the darkness. And we waited.

  I reached for his clammy palm and he reached for mine. We held hands together in the darkness. It was a small comfort, but knowing I wasn’t alone helped me slow my breathing and begin to relax. I felt the tenseness begin to slowly fade away. They wouldn’t find us. They couldn’t. I tried to think positively. We had, after all, made it this far. We had beaten the odds on so many levels. Our friends were dead. Brian’s grandparents were dead. My entire college had burned to the ground, yet here we were. We were together and we were going to be strong. We were going to get through this together.

  After what felt like hours, we heard voices. My determination immediately faltered.

  “There was a man. He couldn’t have got far.” The first voice sounded close, almost immediately on top of us. Why were they this far from the house? They must have been looking for us. Had we left footprints? Had they seen us running?

  A second man spoke. It didn’t seem like he wanted to be out looking for us. He sounded uneasy. “What’s it even matter? He didn’t see us. He ain’tgonna do us no harm. ‘Sides, maybe he’s infected. You don’t know.”

  “It’s not the point.” The first man was bothered, quite obviously.

  “Then what is the point?” The second man asked.

  “The point is I don’t like when people give me the run around. Now keep lookin’ and keep your damn voice down.”

  The footsteps were louder than they should have been. The sound of shoes crunching on sticks and leaves echoed throughout the storm cellar. They were right outside. A shadow cast over one of the small holes in the cellar door, casting us into complete darkness. Without a word, Brian put his hands on my waist and pushed me deep into the darkest corner of the cellar. He kept pushing until my back was completely against the wall, and he stood against me. His body felt warm an
d comforting, but I still felt like screaming. They were here. They were right outside. There was no way they should have been able to find us, yet there they were. They were going to get us.

  The concrete sides of the shelter felt cold and damp. Goosebumps reveled up and down my arms as I imagined wasps crawling around in the dark. I wanted to cry or scream, to shout. To do anything that would release this anxious feeling. They were going to find us. It was only a matter of seconds. They would find us and take us and probably murder us dead. It didn’t make sense, but then again, nothing did. This was just the world now. We were dead.

  Brian smelled good. Even though I couldn’t see anything, I closed my eyes and just smelled. I bit my lower lip, wondering how I had managed to find someone so amazing in a time that was so dark. And why couldn’t I have met him last year? Two years ago? Hell, why couldn’t I have met him a month before the virus hit? Maybe things would have been different. Maybe things would have been something else. Maybe they would have been magical, beautiful. Maybe they would have been complete. Then again, maybe not.

  “What’s this?” A boot kicked the door of the cellar.

  “Looks like it hasn’t been used in years.”

  “Open it.”

  “You do it.”

  The door opened slightly and a stream of light cast across the floor. Brian’s firm hand covered my mouth as my eyes opened wide in fear. This was it. My heart started racing. I felt dizzy. I was going to faint. I couldn’t do this. This was it. I opened my mouth to scream but he leaned his forehead against mine so softly, gently, that I couldn’t move. He was with me, protecting me. He was going to make sure I was safe. I knew it. I could feel it.