The Hive: A Post-Apocalyptic Life

by S A Ison

  Tomorrow seemed brighter, now that she didn’t have Lynch to worry about. She’d have food to eat. She could rest knowing that no one could extort anything from her. She knew she had to balance the safety she felt with the loss of some of her rights. She was still on the fence with that concept. A full stomach went a long way in quieting complaints.

  Once more, her thoughts went to her parents. Were they in Hives? Were they struggling? Did they have enough to eat and were they safe? She was sure she’d never know the answers to those questions. For now, she could only concentrate on herself and the hours before her. More than that, well, it was just too hard to see far into the future.

  Ӝ

  Kansas City, MO

  Trish was tired, it had been a long day. The ER had been filled with injured people. This was becoming more and more common place. There had also been a fatality, a refugee. He’d been beaten nearly to death. He had died on the table. The police officer said the man was attacked. A crowd blamed the man for the food shortages. People were getting stupid; fear was making people crazy. Food was in short supply and people were now fighting to get bread, rice or milk. A loaf of bread was now fifteen dollars. Milk, twenty, or rather the coupon’s worth. People were looking thinner, their faces tight with fear and frustration. The government was metering out very little information. She shivered.

  Coming to a stoplight, Trish waited. She thought about earlier in the day, one of the other nurses had been watching her with bead bright eyes, at the desk. Trish had been taking a break and eating lunch. Their day had been so hectic, that she could only manage a few bites.

  “You seem to be doing okay on food, Trish. That’s a lot you have there. Is that spaghetti with a cream sauce?” Rina Timmer asked, her bright blue eyes boring into her own. Rina was usually on the night shifts, but more nurses were working, with the increase in violence. Rina was a slightly chunky woman and she eyed Trish’s lunch with lust. Trish felt the tiny hairs raise along her body. Warning bells screaming. If she gave Rina the food, that would signal to Rina and anyone else, that she had plenty to spare.

  “Sorry. This has to last me for the next three days, lunch and dinner. I only eat a few bites. I have to make it last. Sorry.” She’d smiled and shrugged apologetically. Not surprising, when she’d gone to get her container later, the spaghetti was gone. She’d seen Rina later with a satisfied, smug look on her face. She couldn’t prove it, but she was sure the other woman had stolen her food. A few other nurses complained about missing food as well. It would seem that Rina was stealing from everyone.

  While driving, she was conscious of her speed. Gas was now so high that it was becoming too expensive to drive to work. Something had to give. She wanted to go pick up groceries, but it was getting near ten, and everything was closed. Curfew was at eleven and anyone out on the road after eleven would be arrested. Martial law was now in effect, and there was no letup in sight. She’d make it home just about eleven. The shifts were now changing to accommodate the evening restriction. Her shifts were now down to six hours. Sometimes eight.

  Slowing down for another light, she looked around at the closed restaurants. Sadly, many had to shut their doors. Food was scarce and the inability to ask reasonable prices had many establishments closing their doors. She stopped at the light and sighed. All she wanted was a bath. A soft smile crossed her face. Hogan would have dinner waiting for her. It wouldn’t be a big dinner, but he always fixed her something nice.

  Glass exploded all over her and she screamed, turning her face away from her window. She felt someone grab her coat and jerk her roughly. They were trying to pull her out of the window.

  “Give me your food. I want your food!” A man screamed in her face. His breath was foul and caused her to gag. Screaming, she tried to knock him from her. He was pulling her out of the seat, the seat belt held her, and she fought him. She couldn’t get him off her and she shoved her foot down on the gas pedal. The truck lurched forward, and she used her elbow and tried to break the grasp on her coat. Cold air warred with the hot reeking breath of the man attacking her. Gritting her teeth, she grabbed the steering wheel, yanking away from the man.

  “You fucking bitch, give me all the food you got!” The man screamed and made a grab for her hair. She was dragging him along with her. Screaming, her head was being pulled hard, she used her elbow to smack the man in his face. She heard the crunch of bone and felt a warm spray of blood spray across her face. The man screamed in rage and pain and she accelerated the truck, leaving the man behind. Looking into the rearview mirror, she saw the man rolling on the street.

  Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she cried, trying to steer and wipe the man’s blood from her face.

  “You son of a bitch!” She screamed, rage coursing through her body and mixing with the fear that nearly suffocated her. She’d never been assaulted. She’d been hit by patients, but she’d never been violently attacked. The man had been crazy. She sped down the street and flew through other lights. She didn’t care, she just wanted to get home. Her heart was beating like a runaway locomotive and her hands shook badly.

  Blinking rapidly, she tried to clear her vision. The bastard had really rattled her. Christ. Was it coming to this? She had no food. What made him think she had? Was he just some loony tune that picked her at random? She looked in the mirror, he was long gone, and she was very far away. She slowed the truck, and her breath began to slow down. She was trying to get her wild emotions under control.

  Trish took the last turn and got off the main drag and on to her road. The houses were dark. They must have lost power again. More and more blackouts were happening. Things were becoming unstable across the eastern half of the country. She pulled into the carport. The dogs were in the house and all was quiet. She saw a candle in the window and smiled and her eyes prickled with tears once more.

  Hogan made her feel safe. Trish knew it deep down and she wished that he’d been with her on the drive home. He would have killed that bastard, she was sure. Getting out, she took out her flashlight. She’d started carrying a small LED flashlight in her purse. With the rolling blackouts, it wasn’t very smart to be without. Christ, with the danger growing, she was seriously thinking about getting a gun. She’d been so busy, that she’d put it off. She couldn’t afford to do that anymore.

  Walking into the house, the dogs came up to her and whined. They must have sensed her upset. They were docile. Hogan came from the kitchen, smiling. Then the smile disappeared from his face and he came forward.

  “What happened? Your hair, what’s that on your face?” He asked urgently, his hands took her shoulders and he moved her into the kitchen, where there was a hurricane lamp. He studied her face and her eyes filled with tears once more. Her lips trembled.

  “Some…some ass…asshole broke my window. He was trying to pul…pull me out of the truck window.” She stuttered and began to cry. She tried to be brave, but she was so upset, she couldn’t seem to help herself.

  “Son of a bitch!” He hissed and he turned to the sink and got the dish cloth. It was still damp, and she felt the coolness of it as he wiped her face, wiping the blood from it. Her body shook hard and she felt him lead her to the kitchen chair. He sat her down and continued to wipe. He said soft comforting words under his breath and that made her cry harder. He pulled her up and into his lap as he took her seat. He held her for a long moment, rocking her. She let all her fear out, from the incident.

  Trish had been terrified and the horrible bastard hadn’t given a shit that he was hurting her. She wiped at her eyes and laid her head on Hogan’s shoulder. She knew she should get up, but his arms felt so good around her. It had been so long since she’d been held. But she knew it was wrong. She cleared her throat and got up, she grabbed a paper towel, wiping her face. She then blew her nose, honking it loudly.

  “It’s okay. I was just upset and honestly, I’ve never been assaulted. The man must have been crazy. It’s just been a really shitty day. A refugee was beaten to death, ear
lier today. He was jumped by a group of people, apparently, they were saying that he was taking all of their food. It is getting so crazy out there, Hogan. A fellow nurse stole my lunch. She was watching me like a crazed animal. Jesus Christ, it made the hairs on my arm stand up.” She was babbling and she knew it. Hogan got up and moved her back to the chair and sat her down.

  He pulled out a covered plate and put it in front of her. He pulled the towel off and she saw an egg sandwich, with melted cheese, and smiled. Comfort food.

  “Thank you, Hogan, my god, that’s perfect.” She breathed. Picking up the sandwich she took a bite. Closing her eyes, she groaned in pleasure. He poured her a glass of water and sat down beside her.

  “Do you have to work tomorrow?” He asked. Trish noticed the dogs laying at his feet. Their eyes adoring him.

  “Yes, but it is only a six-hour shift. I should be home before two. I’m going to call the insurance in the morning and see about getting the window fixed.”

  “The news is reporting an increase in violence. Europe is sending aid, but it isn’t enough. There have been mass executions, authorized mass executions.”

  Trish almost choked on the sandwich. She wiped her face and took a drink.

  “What are you thinking?” Trish asked.

  “There may come a time when we have to hunker down. This incident tonight may just be the start of it. Winter is settling in. With food shortages and fuel shortages, I think we’re going to see more violence and incidents like what you experienced.”

  “I can’t just stop working. I have a mortgage to pay. I’m needed at the hospital.” Trish said, finishing her sandwich. She wiped at her mouth and took another drink.

  “You may not have a choice. Chicago, Charleston, Boston and New York city are burning. Riots and people are going crazy. Washington D.C. is also burning. They are shooting people to quell the violence, but it is backfiring. If things get crazy in town, get back here. We’ll hunker down.” Hogan shrugged.

  Both jerked when they heard a gunshot. Hogan leaned forward and extinguished the light. Going into the living room, he blew out the candle. There was another volley of gunshots. It sounded close.

  “I think I need to order a couple of NVGs. When the power’s back up, would you mind?” He asked, looking over his shoulder.

  “No, I think that’s a good idea. Should we let the dogs go out?” Trish asked nervously, Hogan’s gun was still holstered.

  “I think whoever is out there shooting, might be trying to get into someone’s home. If the dogs go out now, they will draw attention. I’ll watch. If I see anyone come through that fence, both me and the dogs will go out and take care of them.” He smiled reassuringly.

  “Alright. I think I should also get a gun. I don’t want to feel defenseless. I’d been thinking about it for a long time, but just kept procrastinating, and now, I think I need one.”

  “If you do, I will give you training. When you buy your weapon, I suggest you buy a couple of gun cleaning kits. Also, pick up spare ammo. I hate to ask, but can you pick up 9mm. I’ve tried to order them online, but my credit card is no longer valid.” Hogan said. Trish could hear the shame and embarrassment in his voice. Turning, she placed her hand on his shoulder.

  “Look, as far as I’m concerned, you can use my credit cards for what you think we need. I was also going to suggest that we should maybe start ordering our food online. I’m afraid to go shopping in town. There are long lines and a lot of fighting. I’ve seen a lot of shoving matches outside the stores this last week. I don’t know if we’ll get what we order, but it has to be better than waiting in a volatile line.”

  She was engulfed in a hug and set back. She could barely see the outline of his face, but she could see the glistening of teeth. She smiled.

  “Thanks. I’ll try to keep expenses down and when I order the food, I’d like you with me. You know better than I do.”

  “When I get up in the morning, and if the power is on, we can do a little shopping. For now, I’m beat.” Trish said, taking one last look out the window.

  “Get some rest, I’ll be up for a while and keep watch.” Hogan said gently.

  Trish knew her feelings for Hogan were growing stronger. She knew however, he loved his wife and there was no getting around that. He’d felt so good holding her. He was a tall man, well-built and broad across the shoulders and chest. His waistline had shrunken, from when he’d been at the hospital. His strength and calmness made her feel safe. She would need to keep the fact that his wife was more than likely alive and well, in the upper most part of her mind. It wasn’t fair to either of them to daydream about something that could never be.

  Ӝ

  Hogan slipped quietly out of the house. His body was hot. Holding Trish had been a mistake. She’d felt so damned good in his arms and he felt ashamed. He was being disloyal to Laura. Part of his mind warred with the other part. Was she alive? Would he even see her again? Doubtful. Maybe in ten or twenty years, but he didn’t see it happening any sooner than that. Once more, his heart twisted at the thought, of never seeing her or his girls again. He ran his fingers through his chestnut hair and pulled in frustration. Laura and his girls were never far from his thoughts. It felt like shards of glass, digging into his brain.

  He walked along the side of the house and toward the barn. He wanted to check on the chicken coop. The cold night air cooled him, he inhaled the cold air deeply and blew it out. He was caught in limbo, unable to grieve for the loss of his wife, because he didn’t know if she was dead, yet, unable to go forward for that very possibility. He and Trish were becoming close, too close. But it had only been two months, and here, he was acting like some horny teenager. Christ, he thought he had better control than that!

  Hogan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His heart thumping heavily in his chest. He needed to get a grip. He needed to think and figure this out. He could go nowhere. He could not travel west because the goddamned government wouldn’t divulge the locations of the hot zones. Why such a large discrepancy with the number of nuclear bombs dropped. Why so many conflicting reports? Why? Why was the government being so tight lipped? Did they not wish to rescue them? Send them aid? Did it all boil down to cost? Money? Was the cost of human life too much for congress to give a shit?

  Hogan wouldn’t be surprised if it all boiled down to money and how much the government could keep in their wallets. They’d not paid for the refugee Hives, private entrepreneurs paid for that, or at least that was what they were told. Where had all his tax dollars gone to then? Millions in the west had paid with millions if not billions in tax dollars over the years, yet they were avoided like a case of herpes. FEMA hadn’t shown up, no, only the very rich. News reports said life on the inside of the refugee camp was run like a prison. Summary executions and no one was raising hell about it. No human rights groups, no advocacy groups, no one. Christ. They were no longer Americans in those camps, but commodities.

  The chicken coop was quiet, he could hear the soft chicken murmurings, chicken dreams, he supposed. The gunshots had stopped. He wondered who’d won in that exchange. What happened if and when he had to kill someone trying to break in? Would he dispose of the body or call the police? Calling the police when they were breaking in would solve nothing, since it would take the police time to make it there and by then, he and Trish could be dead.

  The police force was spread thin and they were in the center of Kansas City, not out in the far edges, sixty minutes away. Christ. They’d have nothing left if they called the police. No, he’d need to take care of things. Tomorrow, he’d start digging a large, mass grave site at the far end of the pasture. If the body count started to add up, he’d at least have a place to put the bodies. He smiled grimly. It was coming down to every man or woman, for themselves. He and Trish could not count on help from either the police or the government. They had to fend for themselves and deal with whatever came their way.

  He just hoped Laura and his girls were doing the same. He knew Bart and
Milly were quite capable as was his wife. He knew he’d have to eventually let her go, as lost to him forever. But not now. Not yet. His heart refused to let him do that, his conscience refused as well. He walked back to the house and tried not to dwell on the pain that was breaking his heart.

  Ӝ

  Topeka, KS

  Megan looked around the interior of the massive building. The structure was enormous. The fifteen-story building was finished on the exterior, except for detailing. The interior had a lot of finish work that needed doing, but it was move in ready. Tilly looked at her, stunned.

  “This place is freaking huge!” She breathed. The building was nearly as big as a football field. The first twelve floors of the exterior were now completely covered in the hexagon solar panels. The top three stories had massive windows. Megan wasn’t sure who’d be living up in the last three sections. The interior had twelve levels that went up. The middle was open, and a large atrium was being built with a large pond, in the center of the ground floor. Each level was encased in iron and a balcony ran around each floor. On each level, a person could view below, down into the atrium and activities below.

  “I can’t believe we get to move in. I’m glad they gave us a room together.” Megan said, warm, for the first time in months. They were out of the wind and moving through the large interior with many others. The complex could hold forty thousand souls. Each level held over three thousand people. Megan was sure there weren’t that many refugees at the camp. Maybe ten thousand. So why were there so many more rooms? She and Tilly went to the elevator. There were many of them that ran around the building. They’d been given their choice of floors. Both women had agreed that the twelfth floor was best.