Dark Apocalypse: A Post-Apocalyptic Family Saga

by Gabriel Alexander

  She coughed blood.

  “It’s okay, Thomas,” she said. “I’m at peace with myself. I’ll get to see mom and dad again.”

  Thomas got up and he took her in his arms.

  “No, Julie,” he said. “You’re not gonna see mom and dad, because you’re not gonna die yet.”

  Thomas then looked at Simon.

  “Where is the nearest settlement?”

  “What?”

  “Where is the nearest fucking settlement?”

  “Um… there’s a cabin not far from here. I’m good friends with the owner. I’m sure he’ll treat her if we ask him to. But we need to hurry. It’s about three miles from here.”

  “Then we’ll run.”

  “For three miles? In case you missed it, I’m not exactly a young man anymore.”

  “Then, if I were you, I’d try not to fall behind. Which way?”

  “That way,” Simon said, pointing left.

  “Okay, then. Let’s start running.”

  “If you say so…”

  The two started running. They didn’t have a minute to waste.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The sun came up. But they didn’t find solace in it. Not until, eventually, they reached their destination. And not a minute too late. Julie kept opening and closing her eyes. Every second could mean the difference between life and death.

  “Look!” Simon said, pointing at the cabin in front of them. “There it is.”

  The cabin seemed empty on the inside. Could it be that the owner was not home?

  “Okay,” Thomas said. “Let’s go inside.”

  The two ran toward the cabin. When they got in front of the door, Simon broke the lock with his weapon and they got inside.

  “It seems they’re out hunting, most likely,” Simon said. “Okay. Come with me to the kitchen. We’ll put her on the table there.”

  Thomas followed Simon to the kitchen. Once there, they put Julie on the table and started examining her. Thomas’s clothes were soaked in Julie’s blood.

  “She lost a lot of blood, Thomas,” Simon said. “We need to extract the bullet, cauterize the wound, and stitch it.”

  “How do we do that?” Thomas asked.

  “I’m gonna need some pliers to extract the bullet, something to widen the wound, a needle and thread to close the wound and something hot to cauterize it. Okay, you stay here with her. I know where the basement is. I’m gonna go there and see if I can find what I need. You stay here with her and calm her down. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

  Simon left for the basement, while Thomas stayed next to Julie.

  “Julie, look at me,” he said. “Look at me, Julie. Hey, it’s gonna be all right. Help is coming, don’t worry. You’re not gonna die on me. Not today, at least. I’m not gonna let it happen.”

  “It hurts, Thomas. It hurts,” Julie said. “And I’m cold.”

  “I know, Julie, I know. But it’s all gonna be okay. I promise you.”

  He kissed her on the forehead.

  Simon, meanwhile, got down in the basement. Once there, he headed toward a wooden closet with multiple drawers on it. He opened a drawer and saw a set of pliers in it. He took it and put it in his pocket. He then opened another drawer, but saw nothing of use in it. Then, he opened another one. Again, nothing useful.

  Come on, come on,” he said, frustrated. He opened another drawer and saw a spool, complete with a needle.

  “Bingo!” he said, taking it and putting it in his pocket. He then headed upstairs again, where Thomas was waiting next to Julie, who could barely stay conscious.

  “I found pliers for the bullet, and thread and needle for the wound. I couldn’t find something to widen her wound or to cauterize it. I guess we’re gonna have to improvise.”

  Thomas looked around and saw two spoons in the dishwasher. He grabbed them and put them on the table, next to Julie. Then, he grabbed a knife.

  “Give me the pliers!” he told Simon.

  Simon gave him the pliers. Thomas took the pliers, the spoons and the knife and took them to the fireplace in the living room. There, he put them in the fire for about two minutes and later returned to the kitchen.

  “Okay,” Thomas said, while putting the tools on the table, next to Julie. “Let’s save my sister.”

  “Right,” Simon said. “Take the two tablespoons and widen her wound. I’ll take the pliers and remove the bullet.”

  “Okay. Julie, this is gonna hurt. But try to keep still, okay?”

  “Okay,” Julie whispered, drained of her strength.

  Thomas inserted the hot upper ends of the spoons into her wound, widening it. Julie screamed in pain.

  “I know, Julie, I know,” Thomas said.

  “Okay, here we go,” Simon said. He got the pliers in the wound and started searching for the bullet. Julie, again, started screaming in pain, squeezing the edge of the table with her hand.

  “Okay, I think I got it,” Simon said. Then, he closed the pliers and took them out. The bullet was between the two ends. Simon put it on the table.

  “Okay, Julie,” Thomas said. “You’re doing great. You’re doing awesome. You’re almost out, you’re almost out.”

  Simon took the hot knife. But just when he was about to touch Julie’s wound with it, to cauterize it, he heard behind him:

  “Freeze, assholes!”

  Simon and Thomas put their hands up.

  “It’s me, Steve. It’s Simon,” Simon said, before turning around, to see the owner of the cabin and his wife pointing the weapons at them.

  “Simon? What the hell are you doing here?” Steve asked, before lowering his weapon. “And who are they?”

  “It’s a long story, Steve.”

  “Oh, I got time, don’t you worry.”

  “Yeah, but she doesn’t. She needs help right now.”

  “Please, sir.” Thomas said. “My sister needs…”

  “You shut up! I wasn’t talking to you. Spit it out, Simon. What are you doing in my house, who are they, and how the hell did she end up shot?”

  “She saved our lives twice, Steve. And I don’t plan on rewarding her by letting her die. So if you’re gonna drive us away, do it. But if not, then, for God’s sake, don’t just stand there. Help me treat her wound and save her life.”

  There was silence for a few seconds.

  “Let me take a look at her,” Steve’s wife said.

  She walked next to the table where Julie was lying and looked at her wound.

  “You took the bullet out, I see. But now you have to stop the bleeding.”

  “Finish what they started, Martha,” Steve said. “Simon, you come with me.”

  Simon and Steve got out of the kitchen, while Thomas and Martha stayed, to keep treating Julie.

  Martha took the knife in her hand.

  “Did you heat it?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good.”

  She looked at Julie.

  “This is gonna hurt, honey. I want you to think about something pleasant, okay?”

  “Okay,” Julie said.

  “Okay, on the count of three,” Martha said. “One, two…”

  But “three” never came. She put the hot knife on her wound, causing Julie to scream in pain and squeeze the edge of the table with her hand. Martha then put the knife away.

  “It’s okay, honey. The worst is behind you,” she told Julie. She then took the needle and passed the thread through its hole. She tied it in a knot and started stitching.

  “Thank you, ma’am!” Thomas said. “You have no idea how much this means for me and her.”

  “My pleasure, young man.”

  “How do you know how to do this? Were you a nurse?”

  “No, young man. I took a first aid class a long time ago. Way before The Alignment. I’m surprised I still know what to do. Hell, I never imagined it would come in handy. But, apparently, it did. “

  There was si
lence for a few moments.

  “We didn’t mean to break in,” Thomas said. “It’s not in our nature. Not in my nature, at least. I’m sorry for that. But it was the only way to save Julie.”

  “Oh, don’t apologize. I would have done the same for my sister as well. You were desperate. It’s understandable. Besides, it’s not the first time. Our house was broken into before.”

  “Really? When? By who?”

  “The first time, it was twelve years ago. Steve and I came back from hunting, just like today, and we found the lock broken, on the ground. We came in, with our guns held high, for protection, and we found a couple, a man and a woman, eating our food. We started questioning them and they told us that they were on the road for days, running from the rebels.”

  “Oh, the rebels,” Thomas said.

  “Yeah, the rebels,” Martha said. “The plague of these lands. Everywhere you go, you stumble upon them. There’s no place safe anymore. You look in a burrow and you would expect to find a rebel even there, at the rate of their spreading across these lands.”

  “Did you ever have trouble with them?” Thomas asked.

  “More than once. The second time our house was pillaged, it was their doing. One day, nine years ago, Steve and I went out fishing. When we got back, we found the door opened and the house ransacked. Everything was out of place. Everything that remained from their pillaging, that is. Our food, our water, the weapons that we didn’t hide, everything was gone. Our entire supply for the winter. We had to trade with a few vagrant merchants in order to have something to eat that time.”

  Martha finished stitching Julie. She cut the wire with the knife.

  “There. You’re all done, honey. Now all you need to do is rest for a while.”

  Martha looked at Thomas.

  “Perhaps you would like to help me take her upstairs, in bed.”

  “Of course.”

  “Grab her by the legs. I’ll grab her by the hands.”

  Thomas complied. He grabbed Julie by the legs, while Martha grabbed her by the hands and they took her upstairs, in the bedroom. There, they put her in bed and let her rest.

  “You know,” Martha told Thomas when they both got out of the bedroom, “I didn’t catch your name.”

  “It’s Thomas, ma’am.”

  “Thomas. What a nice name. Nice to meet you, Thomas. I’m Martha.”

  “It’s a pleasure for me too, ma’am.”

  “Hey… I just told you my name. Use it, if you don’t mind.”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry… Martha.”

  Martha laughed.

  “Let’s go downstairs, to Simon and Steve.”

  “Yes, Martha.”

  Steve and Simon were downstairs, on the couch.

  “All of them? All of them died?”

  “Yeah, Steve, all of them, except for me, the two folks that I’m with, and a few children. Other than that, the goddamn rebels killed all the town residents. Fucking brutes were merciless. Even after we surrendered, they spared no one.”

  “Jesus Christ. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now.”

  “That’s right, Steve. You can’t imagine. Every single one of those deaths is on my hands.”

  “No, Simon. It’s not your fault. If you had taken their terms, your people would have starved to death.”

  “And now they’re dead anyway. What does that solve?”

  A moment of silence.

  “There’s a small town west of here, about three days walk,” Steve said. “I heard they receive anyone who asks for asylum. You could go there, if you want.”

  “No. I’m not gonna jeopardize the lives of other people.”

  “Then you’ll do what? Wander around, like some hobo, hoping to find food and water stashed on the side of the road? That’s not how the world works, Simon. It didn’t work like that before The Alignment and it sure as hell doesn’t work like that after it. Except for rain, hail and snow, nothing comes down falling from the sky in front of you. No food, no clothes, no beds, nothing. You need other people around you for that, whether you like it or not. Or perhaps you think you’re better than anyone else.”

  “No, Steve, I don’t think I’m better than anyone else. Quite the opposite. I think I’m a loser. A loser who couldn’t protect his people in the face of danger. A loser who made the wrong decision and now has to live with it for the rest of his remaining days. A loser who cannot be called a leader.”

  “Look… from what you told me, you had no choice but to fight. Your people had no choice but to fight. They protected their homes. And that’s not a small thing. Stop blaming yourself for something you’re not guilty of.”

  A pause followed.

  “Promise me, Simon, promise me you’ll find another community to settle in. Promise me you will not live like the last hobo. Please, promise me.”

  Simon scoffed.

  “What’s it to you, Steve?”

  “What’s it to me? I’ll tell you what’s it to me. We’re friends, Simon. For a long time, now. Ever since you came to me and asked me to trade food with you in return for your handymen’s services. We’re friends, ever since you decided to defy the rebels and buy food for your people to prevent them from starving to death because of them. I saw goodness in you the day you came to me and ask me to take care of your starving community. I said to myself: “Well, now that’s a man who really cares about his people.” And I knew that day that you are a good man, a man that cares about other men. I realized that I have a good man in front of my eyes that day and every other day that you came to me to ask me for food not for you, but for your people. And I, for one, care about good men. And I hate to see them wasting themselves like that, prey to a fate they don’t deserve. So please, Simon, please tell me that you will look for the community I told you about and settle there.”

  Another moment of silence.

  “Fine. I’ll do it.”

  “Say “I promise,” Simon.”

  “Okay, I promise. Jesus!”

  “Atta boy. See? Was it so hard?”

  Thomas and Martha came from upstairs and joined them.

  “How’s your sister, kid?” Steve asked.

  “She’s fine. She’s sleeping,” Thomas answered.

  “My wife would have been a fine nurse. Instead, after taking the classes, she decided to become a baker. Waste of talent, if you ask me.”

  “Oh, shut up. Don’t tell me you didn’t like my breads or cakes.”

  “I did, I did. But you would have been a fine nurse too.”

  Steve reached his hand toward Thomas.

  “I’m Steve, by the way.”

  “Thomas. It’s a pleasure, sir.”

  The two shook hands.

  “Please call me Steve. Sir makes me feel old, which I like to think I’m not. Not yet, at least.”

  “Okay, Steve,” Thomas said, smiling.

  “Come on. Sit down on the couch with us. Don’t be shy.”

  Thomas sat on the couch, while Martha headed toward the kitchen.

  “I’m going to make dinner,” she said, before disappearing in the kitchen.

  “Oh, you’re gonna love my wife’s cooking. She’s the best cook in the whole region. There’s nothing she can’t cook. And everything that comes out of her hands is finger-licking delicious. You’ll see. What is it today, honey?”

  “Vegetables soup, venison, and boiled corn,” Martha shouted from the kitchen.

  “Oh, my favorite type of dish,” Steve said. “I’m already craving for it.”

  Thomas sighed, remembering the old days, before The Alignment, when his mother used to cook. And boy, she could cook. His favorite dish was macaroni and cheese, with ketchup on top. He could have eaten this dish daily, if it were up to him. He could feel the salty taste of the cheese and the sweet ketchup on his tongue. Oh, sweet memories. Nothing could replace the moments when he, his dad, and his mom were sitting at the table and eating mom’s delicious food, not necessarily macaroni and cheese topped with
ketchup, but anything else: lamb stew, mashed potatoes and fish fingers, lasagna, ravioli, or baked beans, which he used to simply adore. And there were also the French fries. Oh, the French fries. Before The Alignment, there wasn’t any person on the whole planet who didn’t love French fries. Their taste was incomparable, and they were even more delicious when they were served with beef or a juicy trout next to them. And how could he forget about desert? Mom’s chocolate cakes, sponge cakes filled with sour cherries, or apple pies will never disappear from his memories about his sweet, sweet childhood from the times before. He remembered how he used to jump high and scream with joy, so loud, that the entire house resonated, every time his mom used to tell him that for desert that day, he and his dad will eat mom’s specials. Besides those, he couldn’t forget the deserts that, although were not cooked by mom, they were just as good: the strawberry ice cream, the chocolate cookies which they used to eat especially for Christmas, the chocolate or vanilla-filled croissants, and of course, the fruit-filled muffins. Now those are what he called memories.

  Then, The Alignment came and everybody on the planet, he and his family included, had to do everything necessary to survive. His childhood, with everything that it included: toys, cartoons, comic books, his favorite bicycle, and mom’s cooking ended at the age of only six and a premature maturity came, which eliminated everything that he held dear about his childhood. No more macaroni and cheese topped with ketchup, no more French fries, no more ice cream, no more nothing that he held dear. From then on, it was all about eating what you could find or hunt. He and his parents had to settle with canned beans, peas or fish, musty salami, or sausages which, most of the times, gave him stomach aches, vomiting and sometimes even diarrhea, fruit sauces or compotes and cereals, which were somewhat good.

  But then, there were days when they had to be extremely lucky in order to eat. Those were the days when if you caught something, you would get to eat it and if you didn’t, you had no choice but to starve. Sometimes, his mom and dad would get lucky and shoot a deer, rabbit, or boar and then they would build a fire and roast it on top of it. Those were the very good days, when meat was available and quenched their hunger. But there were days when nothing would be available. No cans, no game, nothing. Those were, indeed, the very, very bad days when they had to feed on roaches and tree bark in order to survive. The awful, ghastly, repulsive taste of the crawlers which they had no choice but to consider themselves lucky if they found them crawling in molded trees, under rocks or in the abandoned, half-collapsed houses that they encountered along the way still haunts him, in the most horrible memories that he has from the first years after The Alignment. He remembered that the first time he had to eat cockroaches was when his mom and dad searched them in the bark of a collapsed tree. They were small, but they were nutritious, which is why they had no choice but to eat them. His mother took them in her palm and, after she and his father ate some themselves, they took the rest to him. He remembered he started crying, protesting and insisting that he will not eat such an abomination of a food. But his mother’s will was stronger than his at the time, so she forced him to open his mouth and put a cockroach in it. He spit it out the very next second, causing his mom to show him her palm, in an attempt to tell him through mimic that she will slap him if he does that again. So, willy-nilly, he took another one of those crawlers and put it in his mouth. He still remembers the taste. Ghastly, horrible. It was like a mix of goo, guts, urine and feces invaded his mouth all at once. His instinct told him to spit it out again, but the thought of his mother’s slap prevented him from doing so. Without having any other choice, he chewed it and reluctantly swallowed it. Then, his mother gave him another one, then another one and then another one, and he had no choice but to eat them all, while praying that his ordeal will finish soon. And sure enough, after eating no less than ten disgusting roaches, the lunch for that day was over. Finally, he could count his blessings because of that. Then, he said a prayer in his mind, asking God to deliver a deer or venison or anything else that had meat on it for that matter the next day, in order to prevent him from eating any more roaches. Hell, even a dog or a cat would have done the trick.