Cool kids didn’t bug-out.
I smiled as he raised his eyes and waved. “Dad pulled me out of school. Again.”
“If he hadn’t, I would have this time, buddy,” I said as I walked to the makeshift kitchen all the way down the hall, through three other rooms. Dad hadn’t made this place for comfort, and that had been his reply every time I’d complained about the kitchen being so far from the media room, as I referred to it. Addy followed me, and helped me get the food put away.
I sat on the counter while she prepared popcorn smothered with extra butter, and grabbed the wine from the refrigerator. We were so close to the twenty-one milestone that Dad would indulge us once in a while as long as it wasn’t done without him present. She poured three cups, and once the popcorn was done, we headed for the media room.
Dad had locked us in, and I knew nothing from outside could get in unless we let it in. The door to the shelter had three layers, and the outer, being the strongest, was made to withstand pretty much everything. Inside the main room was a large table that had a few old computers built into it which were pretty basic and controlled much of the shelter’s functions. There was also a flat panel TV that was digital, but according to Dad if the grid went down, so too would the internet and our visual link to the outside.
I chose to sit beside Grayson on the couch, and watched the news from there. It was grim, and there was a new reporter now, who was telling us how her co-anchor had become sick, and was now deep inside the quarantined area. The news was getting worse, and when Grayson lifted his head, I could see the worry in his gaze. Grayson and I took more after our mom with our red-blond hair and blue eyes than Dad’s dark brown hair and gray eyes. Some of our nastier neighbors referred to us as the ‘Milk-man’s kid’s’ which didn’t help things growing up, either.
“It’s going to be okay, kid.”
“You can say that, Emma, if it helps you sleep better at night,” Grayson said as he stood and grabbed his Game Boy. “I’m going to my room. Wake me up for dinner, Ems?”
“Sure thing,” I said and watched as he left the room. I shot an irritated look at my dad. “You shouldn’t be playing this with him in here.”
My dad didn’t budge, didn’t turn around or even acknowledge that I’d spoken. He flipped to the next channel, and shook his head as a reporter and his cameraman were wading through long white plastic-looking bags stacked inside of what looked like a tent. I squinted to try and make out what I was seeing past the news ticker at the bottom of the screen that was running statistics of dead in cities like Seattle, Olympia, and Spokane. The reporter reached down with a box cutter, and sliced the bag open.
“Oh my word,” Addy whispered in a horrified tone as a face came into view. There were thick, black-looking lines that had spidery black tendrils fanning through his face where I knew his veins should be. The man had dried blood caked to his nose, eyes, ears, and lips. I didn’t think they could show something like that on TV. Was this reporter trying to pull a ‘Geraldo’ or was he honestly trying to report what was going on?
I wanted to throw up, because I knew what the rest of those bags had inside of them now. They were bodies, hundreds of dead bodies being stored in the ventilated tents because the hospital morgue was too full to take anymore. “Turn it off,” I said, downing my cup of wine without realizing it. I reached for the bottle. “I should be at the clinic.”
“No way! Emma, I agreed to let you get a job there because that knowledge is needed, but no way in hell are you leaving this shelter.”
“You didn’t let me do anything! I’m needed there; those people need help!” Panic and despair welled up in me with the need to do something to help.
“They won’t make it, and if you go out those doors, Emma, neither will you!” he snapped angrily as his wide eyes turned to me, full of worry.
I sat stunned, but it only lasted briefly as Addy’s sobs sounded from beside me. I wrapped my arms around her tightly and promised her everything would be okay, even though I knew it would never be okay again.
Chapter 2
Present Day
Six months had gone by, and while most of the town’s two thousand plus inhabitants had died, some had survived. Some others had managed to escape town and now lived on its outskirts or deeper in the wooded mountains surrounding us. Some of them we took supplies to since they’d refused to come to the shelter. Newport is a small town that butts up to two other small towns and sits on the border of Idaho. Our town is so small; you could literally walk from Washington to Idaho in less than twenty minutes if you were so inclined to.
My dad had begun the process of burning the dead and had led us around town, showing us what needed to be done as far as cleaning up and foraging for supplies. With the breakdown in services and information, all bodies were burned to prevent the possible spread of the virus or diseases like typhoid. Winter wasn’t too far off and we had to gather as many supplies as we could, especially with the growing numbers in the shelter. Since there were mostly girls in our little group, we’d all trained with him. He also was the one who came up with the idea for us to wear disguises since we’d been privy to a few cases of rape, and other abusive scenes which we’d saved a few women from. We all wore black hoodies with sugar skull masks that hid our hair and features. The sugar skull masks were a find that we scored on one of our earlier trips to Spokane. We’d found a case of them in an abandoned costume shop and altered the intricate masks to a more masculine version with Sharpies to hide our gender. While we appreciated the protection of the hoodies and masks, it wasn’t very pleasant when the temperature hit 106 in the summertime.
We’d cleaned out the stores and other shops to prevent the goods from being taken out of town. Luckily, a supply train for the stores in town had stopped in Priest River, and no one else had noticed it hidden deep in the thickly wooded area. The only thing we lacked was meat, but that was easily hunted for. Soon after the discovery of the train cars, we’d received increasingly desperate radio distress messages from a group trapped in Montana and my father had left to find and help them make their way here, to the shelter.
I’d been his second in command and knew how to do everything he did on a daily basis. He’d been gone for almost a month, and with each passing day, I was losing hope. He’d said two weeks at the most, but I knew trekking through the mountains to avoid marauders and lawless men was dangerous. Time kept passing, and he could be hurt, or worse. Dead. I’d refused to acknowledge that thought, but everyone else whispered it when they thought Grayson or I couldn’t hear them.
I knew the possibility of him being alive was slim, but I also knew miracles happened… But did they happen to me? Probably not. Did it mean I should give up on the man who everyone called crazy, who saved us all in the end? Nope.
He was the reason I was out tonight on patrol, looking to help anyone who needed it while protecting the shelter from anyone finding it. He was the smartest man I knew, and had taught us how to survive, which was what I was doing now. Surviving the ‘end of days’ with a pack of pissed off women. We were fortunate that the few other men in the shelter hadn’t decided to go with him, preferring to risk the possible bitch-a-thon that occasionally broke out inside the shelter, to the possibility of death outside of its sanctuary.
I adjusted the mask and hoodie as I made my way through the town. I flexed my gloved hands and waited for a lone car to pass me. It wasn’t like we got much traffic in our remote location; it was just that some of the people that came through here had been pretty bad and it was wise to be wary of any newcomers. When this had begun months ago, we’d thought our biggest problem would be finding food. Wrong; it was the creeps who decided they found lawlessness appealing and made victims of those who had survived the virus.
I’d been watching this car circle around for the last hour; it had three occupants. A woman and two mean-looking men. The woman looked scared and pretty much broken. She had bruises on her face, and scrapes on her lips as if she’d been abused. One of the men kept up a steady stream of verbal abuse at the woman, confirming my suspicion that these two assholes were responsible for her current condition.
Hmm, bow or gun? Bow; it was silent. I needed the element of surprise. Besides, ammo was hard to come by and I could make more arrows. I pulled out the crossbow, which had been attached to my backpack for easy access on a pull cord. I flicked my finger over the button to silently auto-cock the string, and nocked the arrow onto the guide as I peered through the white skeletal mask. I needed to get the guys out of the car and away from the woman. I smiled as one exited the car to enter a darkened store, which was empty; I knew because I had cleaned it out last month.
I slipped into the darkness through the back door, and waited in position, watching through the crossbow scope, for him to shine his light in my direction before I released my arrow. There was stunned shock on his face as he took in my black Misfits hoodie, which matched the skull mask I wore.
“What the fuck?” he asked, and stepped forward. I released the arrow and watched as he hit the ground without another sound other than the thud as he hit the tiled floor.