Seven Days: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel

by G. Michael Hopf

  “It looked nice. I didn’t know. I’ve never seen—”

  “Hannah, did a dog bite you?” he asked, his tone now showing a tinge of anger and fear. Anger because she knew better and he had drilled into her head to stay away from any strange animal, especially dogs.

  “Yes,” she whimpered.

  “How, how did a dog come to bite you?” he asked, his voice raised.

  “It was hurt, so I-I walked over to it.”

  “Hurt, how?”

  “The dog was doing the funky chicken,” she answered.

  This was a term he’d taught her. When they wrestled around and he acted like he was hurt, he’d flop around on the floor. “The dog was doing the funky chicken?”

  “Yes, so I walked up to see if I could help. I reached out and it bit my arm.”

  “Where’s the dog now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where did you last see the dog?” he asked, his voice growing louder.

  She sobbed and said, “Don’t be mad at me.”

  “I’m disappointed, Hannah. How many times have I told you not to go near any wild or unfamiliar animals, and dogs are completely off-limits. There’s not a single dog in Deliverance. Were you playing near the culverts even though I told you not to?”

  She nodded.

  He gritted his teeth to stop from cursing. “The dog was at the culverts?”

  She nodded again.

  “Who else knows about this?”

  “Allister does.”

  “What about Olivia?” he asked.

  “She wasn’t there. She couldn’t come out to play,” Hannah answered.

  Reid went to the medicine cabinet and got his first aid kit. He began to clean the wound and asked, “Who bandaged it up?”

  “I did.”

  “You did a nice job. It looks as if you cleaned it too, smart. Did you use any antibiotic gel?”

  Hannah nodded.

  He bandaged the wound with fresh gauze and said, “This will work. I have to go look for that dog.”

  “Am I going to die?” she asked, her small face flush and her eyes red and swollen from crying.

  He was unsure if she’d been infected. There hadn’t been a case of the dog flu in Deliverance in years, so maybe the dog wasn’t a carrier, but he needed to find out and had to do so without anyone else knowing. If the authorities heard that she might be infected, they’d quarantine her, and that was the last thing he wanted, even though he knew it was the right thing to do for the community. “I need you to get some rest. I’ll return as soon as I can.”

  “Daddy, I’m scared,” she whimpered.

  He went to her side and kissed her forehead. “I promise I’ll do anything to keep you safe. Now get some rest. I’ll be back shortly.”

  ***

  The culverts were too small for humans to climb through, but animals had no problem. And as far as the mysterious dog, it had to be the way it got in.

  Armed with a flashlight and a knife, Reid began his search. He shot the beam down the mouth of the culvert but found nothing. By now the dog could be anywhere, but if it was, wouldn’t an alarm have been sounded? He imagined it would, but then again, maybe those in charge wouldn’t want to worry the town.

  He marched along the fence line, his light streaming ahead of him. He knew he risked having a guard challenge him, and if one did, he had created an excuse, though he hadn’t mentioned it to Hannah upon leaving.

  His mind began to ponder exactly what he’d do if he found the dog. Would he kill it? Or should he attempt to capture it and have his old and dear friend, Thomas McNamara, examine it? Knowing Thomas all these years, he never thought that he might have to call on his expertise as a veterinarian.

  A spotlight cast down on Reid from a watchtower fifty yards away. “Who goes there?” the guard asked.

  Shielding his eyes, Reid replied, “I’m Reid Flynn. I’m looking for my daughter, Hannah!”

  “Approach the tower!” the guard bellowed.

  Nervous, Reid did as the guard said.

  “How old is your daughter?” the guard asked.

  “She’s nine.”

  “Was she playing with anyone?”

  “She was,” Reid replied.

  “Have you talked to them?”

  Reid shook his head and said, “You know, I haven’t. The culverts were on my way there; I planned on doing so after looking here.”

  “Best be on your way. If I see her, I’ll bring her in. What did you say your name was again?”

  “Reid Flynn, I live on Sooner Drive, 531 Sooner Drive,” Reid said, giving his actual address as a way to make his story sound believable.

  “Do me a favor, once you find your daughter, keep her away from the culverts. It’s not safe.”

  “I’ve told her that numerous times,” Reid said with a smile.

  “We’re sealing off the area around them.”

  Hearing this bit of news gave Reid a sense of relief. “That’s good news. It’s just not safe; anything could crawl through there.”

  “Something did.”

  Reid clenched his jaw. He gulped and asked, “Oh yeah. Like what?”

  “We found a dog today.”

  Reid sighed.

  “I’ll call your daughter in if you want, see if any other post has found her,” the guard offered.

  “That’s okay, I’ll just head to her friend’s house now. I’m sure she’s there,” Reid said, wanting nothing more than to move on. He feared the guard might see the worried look on his face and somehow guess that Hannah had been bitten.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive, thank you. Have a good night,” Reid said and hurried away.

  “Good night,” the guard said. He turned off the spotlight.

  A question popped in Reid’s head. “Where did they take the dog?”

  “To quarantine, that’s all I know; I imagine they’ll destroy it soon though. It’s kinda sad. I hear it’s a cute pup.”

  “Good night,” Reid said and walked off, not giving the guard another look. He hit the street and turned right. His next stop would be Thomas’ house. If they had found the dog, it would make sense that Thomas would know about it.

  FIVE MILES WEST OF LOGAN, NEW MEXICO

  Michael hated the smell of his grandmother’s bedroom. He dreaded having to take Nana her meals, a chore he had been given by his father and one he’d been doing since she’d gotten sick recently.

  He stood outside her door, a tray in his hands. Steam rose from the freshly cooked oatmeal. He balanced the tray on his hand and knocked.

  “Yes, dear,” Nana called out in her weakened voice.

  “It’s Michael with your dinner.”

  “Come on in,” Nana barked.

  Michael turned the knob and pushed the door open, instantly hit by the pungent odor, which he’d described to his older brother, Chase, as a cross between mothballs, stale perfume and feces. He quickly went to her bedside and set the tray down. “Hi, Nana.”

  “Oatmeal again? Can’t your mother make anything else?” she groaned.

  Michael hovered above the bed, looking down on Nana’s frail body. He felt bad that she had to sit in her room, but with her cough growing worse, it was the best place for her to rest.

  “Can you please tell your mother to make me something different for breakfast,” Nana seethed. She took the bowl and placed it on her lap.

  “We ran out of brown sugar,” Michael said, knowing her response would be negative.

  Nana grunted and tossed the spoon aside. “No brown sugar? What’s in it, then, to make it taste good?”

  “Mom found some of those artificial sweetener packets and put one in it for you,” Michael replied.

  “I hate that stuff,” Nana complained.

  Michael felt bad for her, but when she acted like this, all he wanted to do was tell her to be quiet and be grateful. Food was scarce, and if it hadn’t been for his mother, they wouldn’t have the fresh vegetables they had.
“Can I get you anything else?” he offered.

  “Real food,” she whined.

  He leaned down and adjusted her pillow. “Now, Nana, you know that we don’t have a lot of food. This is the best we can do right now.” He swore she was getting leaner each day, but couldn’t understand why. He’d pick up her plate and she would have eaten the food. Her silver gray hair was thinning badly on top, exposing her scalp.

  “Your father should be going out and finding some, then,” she hissed.

  Fluffing the pillow, Michael replied, “Dad was almost killed last time, don’t you remember?”

  She furrowed her brow and thought. “He was?”

  “Yes, Nana, he was. Now please enjoy your oatmeal. I’ll be back later to get the tray,” Michael said as he turned away and headed for the door.

  “Michael?” she called out.

  He stopped at the door and faced her. “Yes.”

  “How old are you again?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “You’re my favorite, I hope you know that,” she said. She gave him a wink and smiled.

  “I know, you tell me every meal, but thank you.”

  Nana gazed back at her bowl and seethed, “Damn Chinamen, they caused all this trouble. Now I have to eat oatmeal for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

  No longer able to stand the smell, Michael walked out and closed the door behind him. He rushed to the kitchen, picked up a pitcher of water, and poured some into his hand. He splashed it on his face and with a towel dried it.

  “What are you doing?” his mother, Tanya, asked.

  “Cleaning off the smell,” Michael complained.

  “Oh, it’s not that bad,” Tanya said, a knife in her hand. She cut a cucumber and set it on a plate next to her.

  “Then you deliver her meals,” Michael groaned.

  “I do more than that. I bathe her, change the sheets, and empty the pot, so I don’t want to hear it from you,” Tanya quipped.

  Michael stepped up to her and asked, “Is Nana going to die?”

  “She just has a bad cough is all. Your Nana is a tough cookie; she’ll be fine,” Tanya answered. She finished slicing the cucumber and asked, “Grab me another one.”

  Michael brought her a basket full of cucumbers and set it next to her. “She complained about the oatmeal again.”

  “Didn’t you tell her that was the last of it? I made a big pot and we don’t throw good food away around here. Now stop asking me questions and go out to help your father,” Tanya said.

  “She’s getting worse, her memory, I mean,” Michael said.

  “I know.”

  “She keeps asking me how old I am. I feel bad for her.”

  “I do too,” Tanya replied. She set the knife down and with her sleeve wiped her face. “It’s hot in here.” She picked the knife back up and continued to slice.

  “It’s not hot. You’re just having a hot flash,” he said. Michael watched her carefully. He often feared losing her. Each time he allowed the dark thought to enter his mind, he’d get very emotional. She was the bedrock of the family, and even though she stood at just five feet four inches, she was as powerful as any man he knew, regardless of height. He’d noticed the years had been creeping up, as strands of gray were now showing up along the sides of her head, and deep wrinkles were forming along and below her eyes. “If I get like that, just put me down,” Michael said.

  Tanya stopped cutting and shot him a hard stare. “Don’t talk like that. We take care of family regardless of their condition.”

  “But we know she won’t make it for too long. Why do we waste—”

  “Michael Everett Long, you stop that kind of talk. Your nana is family. She’s your father’s mother, and we Longs care for each other. We’re not like the rest of the heathens out there. We will take care of her and provide until she passes away.”

  He looked down sheepishly.

  “Go and help your dad,” she ordered.

  Michael nodded and exited the house into the twilight. The sun had just melted into the horizon, and soon darkness would be upon them. He found his father, Will, and Chase near the west fence line of the farm. “Dad, do you need help?”

  Will lifted his head and shot Michael a smile. “All good, we’re just finishing up.”

  Michael walked up and asked, “What are you doing?”

  “How was the smell?” Chase laughed.

  Michael punched Chase on the arm and said, “Shut up.”

  Will laid the last branch over a pit and said, “Second-to-last one done.” He patted Chase on the back.

  Curious, Michael tried to look through the gaps in the branches. “Is there something in the bottom of the pits?”

  “Sticks,” Chase said.

  “Sticks?” Michael asked.

  “These pits all along the perimeter will provide a layer of protection. I secured the gate by laying down nail strips in case anyone comes driving down, and if they decide to scale the fence, well, they’ll end up in one of these pits and—”

  “Be impaled on a stick,” Chase said excitedly.

  Michael gave Chase a funny look and asked, “You like that, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do,” Chase answered. He smoothed out his long black hair, put his hat back on, and gave Michael a wink. “Maybe instead of playing wet nurse, you could come help us.”

  “Leave your brother alone. Your mother needs the help, and we’re doing what we need out here,” Will snapped. “We’re a family, a team; each of us have our parts and they’re equal.”

  “It does sound cool,” Michael said. “Can I help make one?”

  “Sure, maybe I’ll get Chase to help Mom,” Will said. He gave Michael a wink and tousled his hair. “The idea of the pits sounds gruesome, but we can’t take chances. This is something I should’ve done long ago, but failed to,” Will said, his hands wrapped around the handle of the shovel. Will was a short man, only standing around five feet seven, but he had a wide muscular build, which he’d leveraged in his youth as a football player. His skills on the field were good enough that he’d secured a scholarship to the University of New Mexico to play, but in his second season a bad injury ended football for him.

  “So we’ve got pits all around the fence line?” Michael asked as he spun around, looking at the vast perimeter.

  “If you ever came outside, you’d know that,” Chase teased.

  “Leave your brother alone,” Will barked at Chase. Turning back to Michael, he asked, “How’s Nana?”

  “Grumpy as usual,” Michael replied.

  “Mike says she smells.” Chase chuckled.

  Michael again punched Chase’s arm and said, “I didn’t say that.”

  “Nana smells?” Will asked as he gave Michael a puzzled look.

  “Her room does,” Michael answered. He shot Chase a hard look. “I never said she did.”

  “Same thing.” Chase laughed.

  “Boys, Nana isn’t doing well, and she’s had some issues lately, not just with her cough but the other things,” Will explained.

  “She keeps forgetting how old I am,” Michael said.

  “Not that, it’s probably why her room smells,” Will said, referring to the feces odor. Another issue Nana had been having was with bouts of severe diarrhea. Will believed it was a flare-up of her Crohn’s disease. “She’s run out of her medicine that helps with that, and I just haven’t gone farther to look for it, much less made a second run into town since my incident.”

  “Gross, can we talk about something else? I don’t want to hear about Nana’s poop,” Chase groaned.

  Michael nodded his agreement. “I worry about her.”

  Will draped his arm over Michael’s shoulder and said, “Me too, buddy.”

  “What’s Mom making for dinner?” Chase asked. “I’m starving.”

  “I saw her cutting up cucumbers, but didn’t see anything else,” Michael replied.

  “God, I hope it’s not oatmeal,” Chase groaned.

  “You s
ound like Nana,” Michael quipped.

  “Yeah, but you smell like her,” Chase shot back.

  Will smacked Chase in the back of the head lightly and barked, “No more jokes about Nana. Show respect.”

  “Ok, Dad,” Chase groveled.

  “Run along. Go get cleaned up,” Will ordered Chase.

  Chase sprinted off towards the house.

  “You boys are something else,” Will said with a broad smile as he watched Chase race towards the one-story ranch-style farmhouse. “I haven’t thanked you for being so attentive to Nana. It means a lot to me and Mom. Poor Nana isn’t doing well, and you jumping in to help has really given Mom an opportunity to get her chores done. Running the house now is so much more work than it used to be.”

  Michael smiled.

  “You’re a good kid,” Will said.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “You’re different than your brother; you’ve got a big heart.”

  “Does that make me weak?”

  Will leaned back and gave Michael a concerned look. “Do you think you’re weak?”

  “No…but Chase has made fun of me because I tend to care more about things.”

  “You are not weak, you’re just different. Meaning you view the world differently. Chase has his talents, and you have yours. We have to rebuild this world, and it needs all sorts of people to do so.”

  “Do you really think the world will ever get rebuilt?”

  “One day, sure. It can’t be like it is now forever, that’s just impossible. But when will it happen? That I don’t know.”

  “When you go back out, can I go with you?” Michael asked.

  “How about we cross that bridge when we need to.”

  The creak of the screen door echoed across the field. Tanya stepped out, a towel in her hand. “Dinner is ready.”

  “You didn’t see anything being cooked?” Will asked.

  “No, just saw her cutting cucumbers.”

  “Then I suppose it’s oatmeal again.”

  “Are you complaining too?” Michael asked.

  “Not complaining, just…let’s just say I’m grateful for the food and will be grateful when there’s something other than oatmeal too,” Will joked. “Now let’s get inside and get cleaned up.”

  The two walked across the field.

  Michael’s mind wandered as they walked. He’d been a boy when the world as he knew it ended. Unlike others, they hadn’t suffered, and for that he was appreciative, but he often thought that their luck would one day run out.