Seven Days: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel

by G. Michael Hopf

  Taking a quick look from the foyer into the open-space-concept house, to the right was a dining space; beyond that was the living room and kitchen. To her right was an office, and a short hall led to three other doors; she guessed they were bedrooms. She saw nothing that told her anyone had lived there for some time. The house, in fact, looked like it had been sealed up since before the war. She stepped left past the dining space and into the living room. A long sectional couch spanned from the corner and turned at a forty-five-degree angle, ending where she now stood. On it were blankets and bed pillows; on the coffee table dirty dishes sat along with food wrappers. She turned her head to the right and looked into the kitchen. A counter-height bar was the only thing that separated the spaces. On it were more dishes and more wrappers. By the look of the dried mold, the dishes had sat for a while. She spotted movement on the floor near the refrigerator. She pivoted and saw a cockroach race across the tile floor. Curious if there were any canned or dried goods, she began opening cabinets until she found a pantry closet, and in it were stacked cans of food, anything from beans to fruit and vegetables. “Jackpot.”

  Finding the food was the biggest clue that Brienne’s husband and son weren’t there unless…

  She cut through a small hall and into the longer one. She opened the first door and found it was the master bedroom, but she also discovered what she’d come all this way for: a partially mummified body lying in the bed.

  She holstered her pistol, knowing she wouldn’t need it, and stepped farther into the room. A musty odor hung in the space and was too much, so she covered her nose with the neck of her shirt. To her left was a window; she drew the blinds and opened it fully to allow the fresh air to come in.

  On a nightstand she saw a pad of paper with a pen on it. She walked over and picked it up. Her eyes glanced over the words. It was a farewell letter to Brienne from Jake.

  He wrote: “Dearest Brienne, I’m not sure if you’ll ever come home, but I do know that we’ll never see you again. A week ago Dustin showed the first symptoms of the dog flu. I don’t know how he got it, but he did. We had been so careful all this time; then the bombs were dropped and we lost contact with you. I can only assume that in his anger at missing you, he slipped out one night to visit friends down the road, something I forbade him from doing. All I know is he woke with the bloody eyes a week ago exactly. I took him to the hospital, but they turned me away. Can you believe it? They told me there was nothing for me to do and that he’d either survive or not. I took him home and we’ve been here since. It’s day seven now and he’s fallen into a coma; I fear he only has hours to live. I’m so sad that you’re not here with him during this time and pray that you’re safe. As if it couldn’t get worse, I showed the first symptoms earlier today. My plan? I will see if I’m one of the lucky ten percent, and if I’m not, and if you’re reading this letter, that will say it all. I’m also writing this letter before I can’t. I want to make sure I get my words on paper before the virus prevents me from doing so. Anyway, I don’t know how I’m going to bury Dustin. It just doesn’t seem right or natural to bury your child. The whole world has gone crazy, it’s upside down. How did it come to this? Why did you have to leave us? Know this, I have loved you since the day we met, well, maybe the third date, wink, wink. I still love you and always will. Again I pray you’re safe, and if you ever do come home, I’m sorry I didn’t clean up like you like it. Love always and forever, Jake.”

  A tear came to Emily’s eye. She’d never had anyone feel the way about her that Jake felt about Brienne. She then wondered if anyone would ever have those feelings for her. She thought it possible and considered Loreto the one place it could happen. She put the letter back on the nightstand and looked at the body. “I didn’t know you, Jake, but you write nice letters,” she said and wiped the tear on her cheek. Her expression quickly morphed from sadness to anger as she remembered having to kill Emile, all because Brienne had kicked her out of the car. If that hadn’t happened, she wouldn’t have been caught by her brother’s men and so forth. She quickly reminded herself why she had come to Yuma. She was here to take revenge on Brienne, and she still planned on doing so. She picked up the letter again, folded it, and headed out of the room.

  ***

  She pored through the pantry, looking for something to eat. “Hmm, fruit cocktail,” she said. “I hope it’s still good.” She examined the can, looking for any telltale signs that it had gone bad, but didn’t see any. She pulled the tab and pulled the steel top off. The juice looked fine. She sniffed it and didn’t smell any off odor. She put the can to her lips and took a small sip. “Hmm, tastes alright.”

  Satisfied, she found a spoon, went to the living room, and plopped down. The second her butt hit the cushions, a cloud of dust flew into the air. “Damn it,” she barked as she covered the exposed fruit cocktail with her hand.

  She settled in, dug the spoon into the can, and pulled out a heaping portion. She devoured it with a few chews. She continued until she emptied the can.

  With her hunger satiated, she removed her pistol, set it on her lap, and kicked her feet up on the coffee table. “I can’t wait to see the look on your face, Brienne, when you come through that door and see me.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  VISTA, CALIFORNIA

  Reid passed the road sign that read OCEANSIDE 7, meaning that after a thousand long miles, he was now only seven miles away from the marina, then another thirty-seven miles across the channel to San Clemente Island.

  Hannah shifted in her seat.

  He took his eyes off the road and shot her a quick glance. “Almost there, honey, just hold on.”

  She sat up; her face was drenched in sweat. She craned her head in his direction and mumbled, “I don’t want to die, Daddy. Please, I don’t want to die.”

  “Honey, I’m doing my best. Now please just lie back. We’ve only got a few miles to go,” he said.

  She sank back into the leather seat and turned her head away from him.

  He reached out and touched her leg. He could feel the heat emanating from her body. “You’re so hot. I need to give you something to reduce the fever.”

  “I don’t want to die,” she mumbled under her breath.

  The car shuddered violently.

  He tore his eyes off her and put them back on the road just as they were about to collide with debris in the road. He jerked the steering wheel hard to the right just in time to avoid the debris, but it only put him in the direction of striking something else. He swerved back to the left, and again something lay in the road. He slammed on the brakes. The car skidded to a stop just feet from ramming into a truck that had been parked diagonally across the road. He looked to Hannah and asked, “Are you okay?”

  She lifted her head. The effort was a lot for her to accomplish. She looked out the window and saw something moving towards them. “Daddy.”

  He looked in the direction of where she pointed and saw two men running towards them with rifles in their hands. “No, no, no,” he said as he put the car into reverse. He smashed his foot against the accelerator.

  The car lunged backwards.

  He couldn’t see out the back window, so he had to use the side mirrors. He swerved it right, then left to avoid the obstacles, which he now assumed had been left deliberately. “I’m not going to get stopped this close.”

  “Daddy, I’m scared,” Hannah whimpered.

  “It’ll be fine. Just keep your head down,” he ordered. He spun the car around one hundred and eighty degrees and pressed down on the accelerator.

  The car shot forward at a high rate of speed.

  A man with a rifle stepped out from an abandoned car in front of them, aimed his rifle at them, and fired.

  Two rounds penetrated the windshield and impacted into the backseats.

  Reid had nowhere to go but forward, so he aimed the car for the man.

  The man fired several more shots. Like the first two, they passed through the cracked windshield and hit the bac
kseat, with one going through the back window.

  Reid didn’t flinch or swerve. The man was in his sights and it was either him or them. He slammed the car into the man.

  The man flipped onto the hood and slid into the already shattered windshield.

  Reid pressed forward, but he couldn’t see where he was going. He slammed on the brakes.

  The man, now dead, slid off and hit the ground.

  Pings could be heard. It was the car getting hit by other bullets.

  Angry, Reid swung the car behind an abandoned car for cover, got out with his rifle, and took up position. He was more determined than ever. He knew he had to fight his way out of this or else die. He spotted three men coming his way. He took aim on the first he saw, flipped off the selector switch, and squeezed the trigger.

  The first round exploded out of the barrel, traveled the short distance, and smashed into the man’s face. He recoiled backwards and dropped to the ground dead.

  Reid transitioned to the next man he saw, aimed, and fired. Like the first shot, his aim was true and struck the man in the forehead.

  Debris next to him flew into the air, the results of the third man engaging him.

  Reid pivoted, found the third man taking cover behind one of the obstacles laid out, and fired several rounds. The first missed; the second hit the man in the shoulder, with the third hitting him fatally in the chest.

  The man toppled back and fell down. He looked down at his chest wound for a second before falling over dead.

  Reid paused. He scanned the area for further threats, but no one else was out there. With the area presumably clear, he went back to the car to check on Hannah.

  She was lying in the seat, her eyes half open.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She nodded weakly.

  With no time to waste, he tossed his rifle in the car and got in. He tried to put the car into gear, but it wouldn’t go. He thought it odd since he hadn’t turned the car off when he got out. He tried to start it, but nothing happened. “Oh, c’mon, no.” He tried again and again, but it was as if the car didn’t have any power left, as if it was dead. “Please, God no.” He tried several more times, got out the fob, inspected it, made sure the car was in park, but still nothing. The car was literally dead. He got out and walked around it to find that the back end had about a dozen bullet holes. All he could think was a bullet had hit the right spot. What were the odds? he thought. To be so close only to lose the car that he needed to carry him over the line. He looked up into the haze-covered sky to get an idea of the time of day, and by the glow, he assumed it was late afternoon. With time ticking away, he had only one choice now, carry Hannah the rest of the way.

  Reid raced to her door, opened it and said, “Honey, I’m going to carry you the rest of the way.”

  She nodded and said, “I can walk if you want.”

  “Not a good idea,” he said. He opened the rear door, found his pack and put it on, then slung his rifle. He went back to her, scooped her up in his arms, gave her a kiss and said, “Time to walk.”

  She wrapped her slender small arms around his neck and nestled her face into his neck. “Love you, Daddy.”

  “I love you too, honey.”

  YUMA, ARIZONA

  After spending a day and a half at Brienne’s house, Emily began to wonder how long she’d have to wait. Bored, she began to look through Brienne and Jake’s personal belongings. In the master bedroom she found a box in the nightstand drawer that had letters and cards each had written to the other. She spent the next few hours reading the sweet nothings.

  With each card she was left with two feelings: one that Brienne and Jake loved each other deeply, and two, that she’d never experienced this sort of feeling for someone nor had anyone felt this way towards her. She then realized that the main reason she was having an emotional reaction reading the letters and cards was because she longed for the type of relationship Jake and Brienne had. In the compound Emile had isolated and sequestered her; no man was allowed to touch her much less even look at her sexually. Emily never understood why he was so protective. She was a woman, after all, and had desires, but she was never allowed to express those.

  Underneath a box of tissues on the nightstand, she found another card. This one wasn’t complete. It was a birthday card to Brienne, and according to the date at the top, it had been written during the time of the last letter she’d found. As she read it, she found the same expressions of love that he’d written earlier. “Why did you leave him?” she asked out loud. “If I had a man love me like this, I wouldn’t have gone anywhere.”

  She tossed the card back on the nightstand and stood up. She spotted crumpled papers behind the nightstand. Curious, she reached behind and pulled them out. They were covered in dust. She opened them up, smoothed them out and began to read; by the end of the first sentence she discovered it was a different draft of his farewell letter to her. She opened the others and they were the same. She carefully read. His words weren’t as sweet as his final letter. In these he expressed his anger towards her. He pinpointed how he felt abandoned and alone. That her leaving was tantamount to having an affair, but instead of a person, her affair was with her career. He wrote that her devotion to her job was more important than their marriage or their son, Dustin.

  Shocked by how harsh he was, she lowered the letter and thought about the words he used. She then realized that she didn’t have to kill her; no, all she needed to do was show her these letters. Why kill her when she could let her live with her own guilt?

  She exited the bedroom and went to the sectional couch and sat down. She again read the letters. They were powerful testaments to a world long gone, to people’s selfish needs, to careers that were now meaningless. Many things in life are about time and place, but love is ever present. It outlives changes; even the apocalypse doesn’t alter it. A job can come and go, yet the love for someone doesn’t go; in fact, when put under stress, that love can grow and become stronger.

  It was apparent to Emily now that Brienne had put her own needs for something that was meaningless now above the love of her family, and they’d paid the price. “You helped kill your family, you selfish bitch.”

  That devilish smile returned to Emily’s face. She could not wait to see Brienne and give her the reality that she had been the inspiration for her family’s death. If she hadn’t left, Dustin wouldn’t have fled to a friend’s house and wouldn’t have gotten sick, which then got Jake sick. No, if she had stayed, they wouldn’t have gone out that way. Of course, they still might have perished, but that timeline would never be known, Brienne had made sure of that the day she left.

  KINGMAN, ARIZONA

  “I just suck until I taste the gas?” Michael asked nervously, looking at Brienne.

  “Yeah, I’d do it, but it’s now your turn, sorry,” she said, smiling.

  Michael placed his mouth around the hose and inhaled. He kept doing so until he tasted the gasoline in his mouth. He choked slightly, almost dropping the hose before Brienne grabbed it from him and stuck the open end into a five-gallon fuel can.

  The gas poured from the Buick minivan. The reddish color denoted that the fuel had degraded. She just hoped the old Dodge would take it without causing any issues.

  She had noticed the performance of the truck was more sluggish than normal, but being that it was the only vehicle they had, she supposed that a poorly performing truck was better than no truck at all.

  They filled two cans before tapping the minivan dry.

  He closed one can and put it in the bed of the truck while she poured the contents of the other into the tank of the truck. “We’re not far now. Maybe six to eight hours. Back in the day it would only be a four-hour drive, but the road conditions suck, and of course, some of the roads are impassable now.”

  “Did you like living in Yuma?” Michael asked.

  “You want the honest answer?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hell no, I hated it. It’s a s
hitty little town. We only lived there because Jake got a government contract job after his stint in the Air Force. I was in between jobs at the time, so it was the best thing for the family. Then I got a job locally selling pharmaceuticals and then that grew from there.”

  “Hello,” a wisp of a voice cried out from behind a taco shop.

  “Did you hear that?” Brienne asked.

  “I sure did,” Michael said. He ripped his pistol from his jacket pocket without hesitation and held it out in front of him.

  She put the fuel can down and removed her pistol as well.

  “Hello,” the voice cried out again.

  “Sounds like a child,” Brienne said.

  “It’s coming from behind that taco place.” Michael pointed. “We should get going.”

  “No, let’s see if they need help,” Brienne said and advanced towards the voice.

  “Brienne, no, what if it’s a trap?”

  She looked back and said, “Get in the truck and start it. If it is a trap, drive off.”

  “But I’m not good at driving,” Michael shot back.

  “Then I hope you’re a quick learner,” she said. She made her way to the front right edge of the building and paused.

  “Food, do you have food?” the voice asked.

  “I do, but why don’t you come out so I can see you,” Brienne said.

  The sound of shuffling feet came from behind the taco shop. A small girl appeared moments later. She was about six years old. “Do you have any food?”

  “Hi there, I do have food, but first I need to know if you’re alone,” Brienne said.

  Michael was in the cab of the truck, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on his pistol. He hated waiting, so he got out and slowly began to walk towards Brienne.

  “It’s just me and my little brother,” the girl said.

  “What’s your name, sweetheart?” Brienne asked.

  “Mama called me Shelly.”