Never Look Back: A Dystopian Novel

by Mortimer, L. C.

  The silence lasted an hour, maybe two, at least it felt like it as I waited for something. Were they going to see us? Were they going to explore the cellar? I thought I felt a spider on my neck. I wanted to reach up and swat it away, but Brian’s body held me firmly against the wall so I couldn’t move. Even if I wanted to escape, I was pinned down for my own safety and for his. This was it. All or nothing.

  “There’s nothing in there,” one of the voices said with a sigh.

  “Go check. Can’t even see nothin’ from here.”

  “Fuck that.”

  The door slammed shut and I breathed a heavy sigh of relief as the footsteps moved away from the cellar.

  “Check the house.” The first man ordered firmly.

  “What’s the point, even? Doubt there’s any food there.” The second man, the obvious sidekick, didn’t sound like he wanted to be there. I wondered what their story was, how they had hooked up. Were they brothers? Rivals? Friends but not close friends?

  “Just check it, asshole.” The first man demanded. The tension in his voice was incredibly apparent, even in the dark. I wondered how long their friendship was going to last. Not long, I’d bet.

  A moment later there was silence again, and Brian released his hand from my mouth.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, but before he finished I was kissing him, releasing the anxiety and the tension and just being glad I was still alive. Everything was so bad, so horrible, but he made me feel so much better than that. He made me, just for a moment, forget about the world around us. He kissed me back, for a moment, but then pulled away. His forehead was still against mine, his hands resting softly on my cheeks.

  “I just wanted you to be safe. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “I know. I am. I’m okay. I didn’t feel scared.”

  “It’s not okay. None of this is okay.”

  I didn’t say anything back. After all, he was right. Nothing about what was going on was okay. The world would never be okay again, at least I didn’t imagine it would be. Sure, eventually there would be some sort of new normal, some sort of social order, something. But for now, things were all wrong. Everything was wrong,except for this moment.

  “We should stay here for a bit,” he glanced toward the door, not moving. A single, thin stream of light poured in from the hole in the wood, but already it was clear that the daylight was fading. I wondered what time it was. My hand reached for my pocket to check my cell phone before I realized it wasn’t there. It was a habit that would not soon go away. My heart dropped as I realized that my phone was still in the car. It had a lock on it, so even if the men were able to charge it, they wouldn’t be able to contact my parents. Still, it was a loss. I thought of how many pictures and text messages I had saved in that tiny piece of plastic and I beat myself up for not keeping hard copies of anything. It was the way of the future, or so I had thought. Right now, though, I just wished for a watch. Why couldn’t I just have bought a watch?

  “For the night?” I asked, finally. I didn’t want to stay here for the night. Already I was cold and uncomfortable. It was dark. I just knew there were bugs. There were probably mice. I didn’t want to stay here. It was gross.

  “Probably.” He didn’t look at me. He knew I was unhappy.

  “What if we just wait an hour or two?”

  “They might be staying in the house overnight. I don’t know. All I know is that I’m not going to risk losing you when we’ve come this far, Paige. We’re staying.” His tone let me know that there was no point in arguing. His word was final. We would stay here for the night. I sighed, feeling like a frustrated little kid whose dad wouldn’t let her have a sleepover party for her 9th birthday. I knew, deep down, that he was right, though. Sometimes you just had to wait it out. If the guys who had followed us were staying at Howard’s place overnight, chances are they would see or hear us if we tried to leave.

  And now they had our stuff. They had our guns, our food. Everything. I cringed to think about what these guys would do with the extra weapons. I wondered why Brian hadn’t just shot at them. Maybe he didn’t feel like he was a good shot. Maybe it just wasn’t right. Maybe shootouts only worked in the movies. After all, we didn’t know how many men they had or how many guns they had. And we were only two people. And my shot was rusty.

  I slipped to the floor, finally, easing into position on the cool concrete, trying hard not to think about what was lurking in the dark. Would they come for us? Would they find us? Was there even a point in hoping things would be okay? My stomach growled. I felt hungry and tired and overwhelmed. After a moment, Brian settled down next to me on the floor. His clammy hand gripped mine in the chilly cellar.

  “Do you think things will ever get better?” I ventured to ask. As soon as I did, I feared the answer.

  “I want to believe they will,” he told me. “I can’t make any promises, though.”

  “When you were in the military, did you ever feel scared?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you ever think you were going to die?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you do to stop being scared?”

  He paused before answering me, seriously considering what he would say before he spoke. I respected that about Brian. He never gave me an answer that was half-assed. He spoke his mind, sure, but he did it in a way that was beneficial, not in a way that was obnoxious.

  “Paige, there are a lot of scary things in the world. There are a lot of bad guys. There are a lot of bad situations. There are a lot of things worth being scared of, but if you live your life in fear, you’ll never do anything. If you’re always scared of something that’s bad, or something that might happen to you, you’ll never have the courage to keep trying. Sometimes you just have to try. Sometimes that’s all we can do.”

  “Do you think that it will get better, then?” I asked again, hoping he would change his answer. “Will we always be on the run? Will we ever have peace?”

  “The world will never be the same after this,” he told me. I knew he was right. How could it be, really? How could we go back to lattes and mochas after burying bodies by hand? How could we go back to Facebook and Pinterest after running for our lives and spending the night in a dirty storm cellar? How could we go back to wanting high-paying jobs after raiding someone’s house for a bottle of pills? It didn’t seem possible.

  “It just feels wrong. Everything feels so wrong,” Brian gripped my hand tighter and I leaned my head onto his shoulder. “I just want to be safe,” I told him. “I just want to feel protected. I want to stop being scared of everything. I want to be a brave girl.”

  “I think you’re very brave.” He lifted my chin with one finger so that I was looking up at him. Even in the dark I could sense his smile. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Paige. You’re a lot stronger than you think you are.”

  I closed my eyes in the dark and pressed my head against his chest. Brian’s heart beat quickly, but steadily, and I listened to its pace as my own breathing began to match his.

  Alone in the dark, neither one of us spoke again because there was nothing left to say.

  Chapter 15

  My neck felt sore when I woke. I grabbed it, digging my fingers in and twisting it around for a moment until the pain began to dissipate. After a moment my eyes began to adjust to the darkness and I remembered where I was and what had happened. Had I actually slept all night sitting against the concrete wall? I stood, stretching and yawning for a moment. My stomach ached. I wanted to eat. I wanted to be free. I wanted to be anywhere but here.

  I glanced over but Brian was no longer next to me. Where had he gone? For a moment, my heart lurched and I wondered if something had happened to him. Even worse, I wondered, just for a second, if he had abandoned me. Maybe he had left. Maybe he was tired of having to take care of me. I was, after all, pretty incapable of self-sustainability. I was pretty doubtful of my abilities to figure things out on my own. I definitely needed him more than he needed me.
I didn’t think that was something he would have really done, not really. He wouldn’t have left me. Then again, this was a new world and there was nothing people were incapable of, it seemed.

  I wondered for a second what to do. I had survived the night. To my knowledge, nothing crazy or weird had crawled on me, bit me, or attacked me in my sleep. I shook out my clothes, quickly. Even in the dark, I felt fairly convinced there was nothing crawling on my clothes. My hair was probably wild and shaggy, but I didn’t really care. I pulled the thin ponytail from my wrist and pulled my hair back out of my eyes and thought about what I should do.

  If Brian had gone for food, supplies, or just to look around, it would probably be best for me to stay put. Then again, what if he had left me? I didn’t want to be some chump who sat around all day waiting for her apocalyptic boyfriend who never returned. And besides, what if something had happened to him? I didn’t want to be here alone for another day and another night. This wasn’t something you learned in school: the appropriate amount of time to wait at the end of the world before you just went on your own way. Should I wait? And if yes, how long? An hour? Two?

  My choice was easier to make than I anticipated, however, as I realized quite suddenly just how badly I had to relieve myself. Nothing was worse, really, than living in a world with no running toilets. I was tired of having to pee outside. I was tired of having to take care of business in the bushes. I was a civilized woman in a civilized world, or at least I had been. I thought about staying in the cellar, but then reconsidered. I didn’t trust my ability to urinate in the dark regardless of how much of a “country girl” I was. I certainly didn’t want to try to hold it until Brian returned – if he returned. Instead, I quietly slipped up the stairs to the door of the cellar and, after pausing for a moment and being sure there was no one outside, I gingerly pushed the door open and slipped out.

  I blinked several times – hard – as my eyes adjusted to the brilliant morning sunshine. For just a moment, the world felt normal. I thought I even heard a bird chirping, but it might have just been my imagination. I didn’t see Brian or anyone else, so I scurried behind a tree and took care of my business for a moment. I wanted toilet paper. I wanted privacy. I wanted a real toilet seat, but none of that was going to happen, so I buttoned my sweaty, smelly jeans back up and returned to the cellar. I cringed when I thought about how bad I smelled. What would I do for a hot shower and some Bath and Body Works body wash? Not much.

  There was still no sign of Brian. I crept through the woods as quietly as I could and wandered back to where we had left the truck. It was gone. All the cars were gone. In fact, there was no sign that anyone had ever even been there. I stared at the empty driveway, wondering what to do. Had he left me? Had he been taken? Had the men from yesterday stolen all of the vehicles? I realized with a start that they had all of our stuff, all of our information. George and Sarah’s wedding picture was gone. My clothes were gone. His clothes were gone. The weapons: all gone. Even the food was gone, and all I wanted was a fucking granola bar.

  “Take a deep breath,” I said out loud. “He can’t have gone far.” And it was true. Surely I would have noticed if he had left me in the middle of the night. The growling of my stomach reminded me of the real reason I was searching for Brian: we needed food. We needed anything edible at all. I turned toward the house and decided to take a chance. Maybe he was inside. After all, that’s where I would look for food. That is, if our friendly neighborhood looters hadn’t taken everything the night previous. I didn’t have much hope that there would be something in the house, but I was too hungry to care and too tired to be afraid. Maybe Brian was right about fear. Maybe sometimes you just learned to deal with it. I knew, realistically, that I should be terrified. I should be horrified at the thought of entering an abandoned house that might have dead bodies in it. I wasn’t, though. I was apathetic. I hoped I didn’t run into a looter because it would be annoying to have to kill one. I just wanted something to eat.

  The stairs creaked with every step, alerting the entire world to my presence. The front door was ajar. I didn’t have any weapons, but I wasn’t as nervous about that as I probably should have been. After all, the cars were all gone. Chances were that the guys from last night were gone, too, and maybe I could find something decent to use inside. I pushed the door open and slipped inside. I didn’t bother closing it, instead choosing to let the natural light reveal the open house to me.

  I thought I heard rustling in the back room, probably from the kitchen. It had been far too long since I’d been at this house and I couldn’t remember the layout of it to save my life. Maybe Brian was in the kitchen. Maybe not. But if he was in the kitchen and I sneaked up on him, there was no telling how he might react. I decided to take a chance. It could end pretty badly for me, or it might not.

  “Brian?” I called out. “Is that you?”

  The noise stopped. Footsteps. Then he appeared in the doorway. “What the fuck, Paige? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “What?”

  “I told you to stay in the cellar. Why did you come out? What if it hadn’t been me in here? You could have gotten yourself raped or worse.”

  A feeling of warmth and relief rushed over me and I didn’t even care that he was angry. I ran to Brian and slipped my arms around him as tightly as I could.

  “I thought something had happened to you.”

  “I was just trying to find us something to eat. Here,” he shoved a package of peanut butter crackers into my hands. “Eat these. You must be starving.”

  I ripped open the packaging and hungrily devoured the crumbling crackers.

  “What I wouldn’t give for a glass of milk,” I muttered with my mouth full. Brian smiled and we headed back into the kitchen to finish looking around.

  “Looks like they took most everything.”

  “Even the cars.”

  “I saw that, too. There must have been more of them than I thought.”

  “What do you think they wanted?” I asked him, honestly curious. Our guns? Food? What are the chances that a lone car on an empty road would actually have those things? While in our case we did, how many other survivors would have the same resources? I couldn't imagine that most people escaping from the cities would have anything of use. When you left, you grabbed your valuables and you took off. When you left your dead or dying, you grabbed nothing. You just left. Possessions became much less important when your life was in imminent danger. Things must be pretty bad for someone to be stopping a car just in case they happened to have something. I wondered if the men had been infected or if they simply had nothing left to lose.

  “They were probably looking for someone to take out their aggression on. If they didn’t want to rape you – and I don’t think they actually saw you – then they wanted anything they could take from us. In this case, they got enough food and weapons to last them for awhile, and thanks to my car registration in the glove compartment, they’re probably on their way to my house now.” He sighed.

  I hadn’t even thought of that. That meant we could never go back. Ever. At least before, knowing we could have a fallback option had been somewhat comforting. Now there was nothing. There was only forward and neither one of us knew where that road would lead. Maybe we’d find my parents alive and well and we’d all settle in to a comfortable life together. Maybe we’d leave Kansas and go off to save the world, to find a cure for the D-Virus. Somehow that all seemed too good to be true, though. I felt a knot in the pit of my stomach and this time it wasn’t from hunger. I wondered what was going on with my parents. I wondered if they were okay.

  “It’ll be okay,” Brian placed a hand on my shoulder. I didn't believe him, but the words tasted sweet. Reassuring. Almost comforting. “But we shouldn’t stay here long. There’s not really any other food,” he motioned toward the rest of the kitchen. I could see that it had obviously been ransacked. Of course it had. “But let’s see if we can find some bags and maybe some vitamins or anything from the med
icine cabinets upstairs. Who knows? Maybe they had some snack food hidden in their bedrooms.”

  We climbed upstairs. Most of the windows had heavy drapes, so it was dark, but thin slips of light occasionally escaped and we made our way to the hallway bathroom. The medicine cabinet revealed only makeup and a bottle of Tylenol, but I took it. I wasn’t much for medication, but you never knew what you were going to come across. If nothing else, maybe I could trade it for something useful someday. Then again, maybe I’d never see uninfected people again. I just knew that if I got a headache or cramps, I was going to want some Tylenol.

  I glanced in the bathroom mirror for a moment and my hand automatically wandered to my forehead. I had forgotten all about the cut from the car yesterday. Digging around in the cupboard, I managed to find a washcloth to clean my face with. I covered the cut with Neosporin and a colorful bandage. There was nothing quite like having a Sesame Street bandage on the top of your face, but it could always be worse. I wondered if I would have a scar. I probably needed stitches, but there was no way I could get those now.

  I left the bathroom and met Brian in the hallway. He didn’t say anything about the bandage. I had half-wondered if he was going to tease me about it, but he didn’t. He simply ran his finger along the bandage, softly, and asked me if I was okay.

  “I’m sorry you got hurt.” Then he kissed my forehead, softly.

  I breathed him in, not wanting him to ever let go, but the moment ended and we had to keep moving.

  “Check the bedroom. There should be at least one more bathroom,” I told Brian, breaking the silence and cracking the mood. He nodded without complaint and led me down the narrow hall. The first door revealed a small, tidy craft room. As I glanced at the baskets of buttons and bolts of fabric, I imagined Mrs. Howard must have been a handy woman. How nice a life to be able to spend your afternoons just creating anything you could dream up: anything you could imagine. I wondered what had happened to her.