After the Outbreak- The Complete Series

by Dave Bowman

  “You’ll have to do it now, son,” Fred said. “You don’t have any choice.”

  Matt shook his head furiously. Anything but that.

  “No, I can’t, Mr. Hanley. I can’t drive that far. I’m scared,” Matt pleaded.

  “You have to get out to New Mexico, to your father’s lodge,” Fred croaked out.

  “What if there’s no one out there? What if I’m all alone in the woods there? I can’t… I can’t do it,” Matt said firmly.

  “You have to try. Maybe one of your father’s family survived and made it out there. You’re going to survive, Matt. It’s not far-fetched to think that someone else in your family has the genes to make it through this thing, too.”

  The tears were coming fast now as Matt watched Mr. Hanley grow weaker and weaker.

  “I – I can’t talk much more now. I know you can do it, Matt. I have faith in you, son.”

  His hand squeezed Matt’s and then let go, weak from the tiny bit of exertion. His eyes closed and he fell into a fitful sleep, his face revealing the agony he was in.

  Matt stayed by his side the last few hours of Mr. Hanley’s life. When the smile appeared on the man’s face, he knew it was over. After the man drew his last breath, Matt returned to his own home. He locked the house up as best he could and retreated to his bedroom.

  The days had slipped by one after the other. At first, he was lost in grief, barely moving out of his bed, uninterested in living. The lights went out at some point, and he burned candles all night long. Little by little, hunger drove him to action, and he started to cook for himself. Fear was his only companion, and it was constant. He carried a shotgun with him everywhere. His dad had taught him how to shoot it, but that had only been at a shooting range. He wasn't sure he'd be able to pull the trigger to defend his home, and he hoped he wouldn't have to test himself any time soon.

  The food stores his family had stockpiled so carefully would be able to feed him for months, if not years. That wasn't an immediate concern. The loneliness was what plagued him.

  His mind returned to Mr. Hanley’s words. What if he was right? What if someone else in his family had survived the virus?

  The lodge was 800 miles away – twelve hours by car going the speed limit, and Matt doubted he’d be able to drive that fast.

  I can’t even drive up the driveway. Forget it. There’s no way I can drive to New Mexico.

  He looked at the bicycle parked against the garage. For days, he had tried to get the courage together to ride his bike around the city, looking for other survivors. His suburban neighborhood in the East Texas town of Tyler had been quiet for nearly two weeks now, and it had been about ten days since Mr. Hanley had died, more or less. Matt had lost track of the days.

  But he feared what he might find outside his neighborhood. What if there was looting, rioting, or violence? He was just a scrawny kid, completely unprepared to defend himself.

  Besides, if he didn’t leave the street, he wouldn’t have to risk facing what he feared the most: The possibility of being the last person alive.

  The thought terrified him. He had never liked being alone, preferring the company of his family and friends to time on his own. Now, he was haunted by the uneasy silence that surrounded him. All the noises and sounds that humans made had ceased. He was living on his own, with no one to talk to. He didn’t know how he would survive – not just physical survival, but the psychological burden of horrible loneliness.

  Leaving the house to scout the city meant he could find his worst fear: no one alive.

  Humming a nondescript tune just to break the silence, he walked back inside and locked the door behind him. Returning to the pantry, he looked at the baking supplies on the top shelf. Boosting himself up on a stepping stool, he grabbed a boxed strawberry cake mix and a container of strawberry frosting. Though what he wanted most of all was his family, he figured a cake would be the least he could do to recognize his birthday.

  He had watched his mother make cakes from boxes before, though he wasn’t sure he could do it. He was relieved to see instructions on the back. Easy. Just follow the directions. But his heart sank when he saw that he would need three eggs. He had eaten the last of the eggs days ago.

  He looked in the cookbooks on the shelf. One had a section on substitutes: He could use ground flax seed soaked in water as a replacement. He knew his mother had used flax meal on her oatmeal. He shrugged, deciding to give it a try.

  He'd have to make another adjustment. He couldn't use the oven without electricity. He'd have to use a match to light the stove top burners and fry the cake mix like pancakes.

  As he mixed the ingredients together, his thoughts turned to what his birthday would have been had his family survived. His parents usually threw him a party, inviting his friends from school and the neighborhood. This year, they were going to have a video game marathon. He glanced at the now useless TV and game console. He sometimes missed the electronics. But the absence left by his family was much greater. At that moment, he regretted all the time spent playing video games when he could have enjoyed his family’s company.

  Making the food gave him a project, and he was glad for it. He wasn’t in much of a celebratory mood, but his mother always made a big deal of birthdays. Making something reminiscent of a cake seemed to somehow honor her memory. As he ate the decent-tasting strawberry pancakes, he thought about how his mother had fussed over him.

  “My baby is becoming a teenager!” she had gushed many times during the weeks before she got sick.

  He had felt excited to turn thirteen. It would mean more freedom, more independence. He laughed bitterly at that. Now he had all the freedom in the world, and he was miserable.

  He grabbed his shotgun and went upstairs to spend a sleepless night waiting for the sun to come up, as had become usual.

  He longed to return to the days of early childhood, when his family was always around and there were no impossible choices.

  3

  "What the hell?

  What are they doing here?" Charlie asked, incredulous.

  "I don't know, but I don't think they want to make friends," Nick said, watching the sedan approach in the rear-view mirror.

  "Are you going to try to lose them?"

  "I don't want to turn this into a game of cat and mouse, but I'll pick up the speed and see if they stay on my tail," Nick said.

  He applied the gas, accelerating gradually. The sedan followed closely behind. Nick saw them looking at him with the same icy stares as before.

  "Come on, man, you can out run them!" Charlie said, twisting around in his seat to get a better look. "We can't lead them back to the lodge. Step on the gas."

  "I don't want them to think they have the upper hand," Nick muttered. "They're not going to run us off."

  “What if they have guns?" Charlie asked nervously. "I'm not in the mood for another shootout like the other night."

  "Neither am I, believe me. That's the last thing I want," Nick said. "I just don't want to escalate this thing if I don't need to."

  He saw a small gravel road that turned off the highway in a quarter mile.

  "I'm going to turn down this road. If they follow us, I'll park the truck and see what they want. Just follow my lead," Nick said warily.

  His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel tightly, turning onto the gravel road, careful to maintain his usual speed. His grip on the wheel tightened even further when he glanced in the side mirror to see them turn down the road as well.

  Slowing down his speed, he turned the truck perpendicular to the road as he parked with the driver side facing the sedan. He motioned for Charlie to get out, and he followed Charlie out the side door as the sedan drew to a stop fifty feet behind them.

  Nick and Charlie drew their rifles and pointed them toward the sedan as they positioned themselves behind the front end of the truck.

  They watched as the heavyset, bearded driver stepped out of the car with a smirk on his face. The passenger
followed suit, but his face was expressionless. They both stood behind their open car doors. The driver held his hands up, palms facing out.

  "We're not armed!" he called out. His partner showed his hands as well.

  Nick squinted at them, not moving from his position. He didn’t trust these guys any farther than he could throw them. "What the hell do you want? Why are you following us?"

  “Somebody's awfully jumpy,” the driver said. "Can't a guy try to be sociable these days?"

  "We don't need any new friends," Nick said, scowling. "Cut the crap. What do you want?"

  The driver dropped his hands and leaned with his elbows on the car door. "Cut right to the chase, don’t you? Well, we thought you might like to make a trade. Money don’t mean much these days."

  He took a couple steps to walk around the car door.

  "Stay right where you are!" Nick growled.

  "Geez, you need to relax, man," the driver said. "Ain't that right, Smith? Don't you think this guy needs to take a load off?" He grinned at his partner, who was now also leaning on his car door, still fixing Nick and Charlie with a vacant stare.

  "Sure do. Life's too short to get all upset like that," Smith replied mechanically in a monotone, never taking his eyes off the two men in front of him.

  "Tell me what you want to trade and I won't shoot you," Nick said flatly.

  The driver whistled. "All right, all right, don't lose your head. You must've been a businessman before the shit hit the fan. Real type A personality."

  Nick hadn’t been a businessman, but he wasn’t in the mood to correct him. The driver chuckled and picked something from his teeth before continuing.

  “I guess you could call me a sort of businessman as well. It’s my new line of work. The world falling apart was pretty bad, but it also opened up all kinds of new doors for people like me. I like to think–”

  “You got thirty seconds,” Nick barked.

  "Well, you see, fellows, my partner and I are in a delicate situation. It's kind of funny, actually, when you think about it...” He laughed again, then cleared his throat. “Seeing as how we're unarmed, and there aren't any guns to be found these days – all the stores are cleared out of them, you know. I thought you might have some firearms to spare. A man really needs some protection right about now, don't you think?"

  Nick paused, looking the two men over in disgust. "What are you trading?"

  A grin crept over the driver's face once again. He motioned to his partner. "Smith, go get the stuff. Let's show these gentlemen our fine merchandise."

  Smith turned to move toward the back of the car, but he froze when he heard Nick's voice.

  "I told you not to move! I don't need to see what you're trading. Just tell me."

  "It's cool, man. It's just that some people are visual learners, you know? But you're more the auditory type, is that right?" He laughed, throwing his head back in the blazing sun. "I get it. Smith, run down our inventory for the man."

  Smith paused a beat, then spoke in his thin voice. "I got enough oxycodone to make even a guy like you relax. I’ve also got some top-notch hydroponic herb, China White, and the best crystal in the whole Southwest."

  "Even better than Heisenberg's shit," the driver said, laughing again. "No offense, man, but seeing as how you're so high-strung, I'd steer clear of that. For you, I'd recommend the oxycodone or the herb. A kilo of herb for a rifle. Or the oxycodone for a rifle. If you're into China White, that'll be both the guns. Your choice. Of course, I'll need some ammo to go along with that.”

  He licked his lips, looking at Charlie’s and Nick's rifles.

  The guns were still trained on the two men. Nick looked them over one last time before he spoke. The driver, still grinning, lowered his face slightly and locked eyes with Nick.

  "No trade,” Nick growled. “Get the hell out of here.”

  The driver's face fell, and he stared at Nick, stupefied for a moment. “Did you hear what I said? That's primo stuff we got back there. Good luck finding any oxy these days. That stuff disappeared off the shelves faster than the pistols did. Luckily, my partner and I had the foresight to hit the pharmacies early."

  "Did you hear what I said?" Nick repeated. "Take your drugs somewhere else."

  "Damn, man, it's the end of the world,” the driver piped up. “You don't have to go back to push papers at your office anymore. You can lighten up."

  “Keep your hands where I can see them, and get in the car real slow. Start the engine, turn the car around, and go back where you came from. Don't let me see either one of you ever again, or you won't be driving off the next time."

  The two men stood staring at Nick for a moment longer, apparently unable to believe they wouldn't be making a deal.

  "Go!" Nick roared.

  The ferocity in Nick's voice pushed the driver to action and he got in the car and started the engine. Smith continued to stare at Nick for a moment longer, then spat in the dirt before he joined his partner. Nick and Charlie watched as the pair turned the sedan around and disappeared down the main highway.

  The tension fell away as they watched the empty road for a moment longer. When they saw the sedan wasn't coming back, they both exhaled.

  "Wow, those guys were crazy. I just knew they were going to pull a gun on us," Charlie said.

  Nick nodded as he walked around to the driver side. He had almost expected the same thing. "Yeah, they seemed pretty unpredictable."

  "It must be our lucky day," Charlie said, putting his rifle away.

  "Yeah, we found windows that will fit and managed to get through an encounter with strangers without killing anybody. We better get home fast before our luck starts to change."

  Charlie grinned as he climbed back in the truck. He knew Nick was right.

  4

  “Liz, where do you think you’re going? Sit back down!” Jessa chided from her spot in the garden.

  Liz sat back down in the chair at her post near the tool shed. Jessa had caught her trying to stand up with her crutches, as usual.

  “I can’t just sit here all day while you and Mia do all the work!” she called down to Jessa.

  Jessa laughed and waved her concern away with her hand. “You’re on guard duty, remember? You’re doing work, too!”

  Liz slumped in her seat and sighed. She felt her time would be better spent down with Liz and Mia preparing the garden beds. She knew better than anyone how important it was to beef up their security at the lodge, but she didn’t see much point in the daytime watch shifts. Liz figured it was just an excuse to keep her off her feet.

  “You know, I can get around fine with my crutches!” she called again. “And you could use another pair of hands down there.”

  “We need you up there for now. And the more rest you get now, the sooner I’ll put you to work weeding and planting!”

  Liz smiled and settled back in to yet again scan the perimeter of the meadow and the forest beyond it. She didn’t really enjoy guard duty, but she didn’t have much choice. Though her injury had thankfully not been serious, she did need to stay off her leg to let it heal, at least for the time being.

  And today the men were off looking for windows to replace the ones that had been broken by the invaders. She still felt guilty over the whole thing, despite everyone assuring her that it wasn’t her fault. Still, she couldn’t help but feel some responsibility, especially now that Nick and Charlie had to go off hunting for windows when there was so much work to be done at the homestead.

  If only she hadn’t been so trusting of James, none of this would have happened. She had been naïve and foolish. She knew that. Well, those times were behind her. She would be wary of anyone new, probably for the rest of her life. The other night had changed her forever.

  Everyone seemed to have changed. Nick was always talking about more people coming in – seeking refuge from the cities in the mountains. The group was caught up in preparing for that possibility.

  Now, everyone was taking turns spending the nig
ht on guard duty. She hated that everyone had to give up a night’s rest to keep the rest of them safe. Though she had to admit it was a good idea. Who knew how many other deranged criminal elements were lurking around the area? And with resources so scarce, a comfortable home with a well-stocked food supply would be tempting to way too many people.

  The more work they put into the homestead to make it self-sufficient, the more attractive it would look to outsiders. And that meant they would all have to be on high alert.

  A bit later, Mia appeared with a glass of cool well water for Liz to drink.

  “Thanks, sweetie,” Liz said, smiling at the child. “How’s gardening?”

  Mia smiled. “I like it. It’ll be cool when the seeds start to sprout.”

  “Jessa’s not working you too hard?”

  Mia laughed and shook her head, making her chin-length, dark hair brush against her face.

  They were breaking up the soil and removing rocks, then mixing in the bagged topsoil that Nick and Jessa had brought back from Santa Fe. With a little luck, they’d have some fall crops, and then a respectable full-scale garden the following year. It would be a lot of work, and Liz hoped she’d be able to contribute to the group efforts soon.

  Liz watched as Mia skipped off to return to Jessa’s side. The nine-year-old was one of the smartest people Liz had ever met, but she was still a child. Liz liked to see her gallop up and down the hills like any other kid. Mia was always a good reminder of what was at stake, and why they needed to take home security so seriously. With renewed energy, Liz returned her concentration to her watch duty.

  Her eyes scanned the tree line, searching for any movement or flash of color, but it was the same monotonous landscape it had been three minutes ago.

  Jessa liked the repetitive work. It gave her a chance to collect her thoughts. Lately, everything had been so tumultuous that she hadn’t had much of a chance to think, so she welcomed the physical labor the day brought. She stood up to stretch her muscular arms overhead, then pulled her shoulder-length blonde hair into a ponytail before returning to her work.