Surviving: The Complete Series [Books 1-3]

by Westfield, Ryan

  15

  Aly

  The sun was quickly setting. It had already sunk below the horizon. There wasn’t much time left until it got dark. Really dark. There wasn’t going to be much, if any, moonlight to rely on tonight.

  If they’d had a choice, tonight would have been a night to lay low. To hide away somewhere and sleep. Put one or two people on watch duty. Really, it would have been more like “listen duty,” since there wouldn’t have been anything much to see at all.

  But that wasn’t an option.

  If Jim was alive, he’d hopefully have enough sense to stay put at the pharmacy.

  Aly didn’t know if she could even trust herself to hope.

  Maybe she should just assume that her husband was already dead. Dead and gone. Not coming back.

  There were too many possibilities to sort through. She and Rob could get to the pharmacy only to find nothing at all. No trace of Jim. Then what would they do? Wait there for a few days, if they could afford to, she guessed.

  And then what? Nothing, that’s what. There’d be nothing to do. No second steps to locate Jim, except maybe checking a few nearby places to see if he was lying injured somewhere in hiding, unable to move, or to see whether they could find his corpse.

  If Jim was there, there was a good chance it’d just be his body. Given the number of hours that had passed, rigor mortis would have started to set in. His body would be stiffening. His eyes would be open. His bowels and bladder would have evacuated. It wouldn’t smell good. And the corpse wouldn’t look nice, not like when you went to an open casket funeral and the body had been done up by the morticians. It’d be nothing like that. He’d have his wounds, whatever had killed him. Maybe his skull would be bashed in.

  “What are you thinking about, Aly?” said Rob.

  They were walking side by side on the right side of the road. Walking on the pavement was less fatiguing than walking along even slightly uneven grass and dirt.

  “Jim,” said Aly.

  Rob nodded. “I guess there’s nothing we can do except wait and see.”

  “You think he’ll be there? Alive?”

  “I don’t want to give you any false hope.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “Not a lot of things are good these days.”

  They walked in silence for another couple of minutes. Aly found herself looking up at the darkening sky. The seemingly ever-present clouds were still there. They’d been gray all day, but now in the afterglow of the day, they took on a slightly pink color that Aly hadn’t seen in a long time. “It’s pretty,” she said.

  Rob nodded silently, only glancing ever so briefly up at the sky.

  There was something different about him. Sure, he’d lost more weight than the rest of them since the EMP, and he’d had the weight to spare. But there was a new change, something less physical. Or maybe she’d just noticed it. There was something like steely resolve in his eyes, etched onto his face.

  “You know,” said Rob, speaking slowly, as if he was thinking very carefully about what he was saying. “Jim and I were talking. About a week ago or so. And... I just wanted to let you know that he was concerned about you, should something ever happen to him. And so I just wanted to let you know... that if something does happen to Jim, I promised him that I’d look out for you as best I could.”

  “You’re talking like he’s already dead.”

  “That’s not what I mean at all.”

  “And you’re also talking as if I can’t take care of myself. As if I’m just some helpless...”

  “It’s not that,” said Rob. “Just look at it this way. We’re all more likely to survive if we stick together. Jim sort of brought us all together, but if...”

  “OK,” said Aly. “I think I get the point. You think Jim’s dead, and that we should stick together. Don’t forget that there’s still Jessica out there, too, right?”

  They’d already discussed the subject of Jessica at length, and they’d figured that the best thing to do was to look for Jim first. In the best-case scenario, Jim was there, healthy and his body intact, waiting for them. The three of them would set off together and find Jessica.

  It sounded more like a fairy tale than a plan.

  “Of course I know she’s out there,” said Rob. “I’m not forgetting about anyone.”

  He spoke in a confident way that didn’t really sound like him.

  “You sound different or something,” Aly started to say, but she cut herself off, losing her train of thought as her thoughts once again turned to her husband. There wasn’t any point in not trying to imagine his mangled body.

  She could anticipate it all. She could do her best to brace herself for the worst. But she knew full well that when she was eventually face-to-face with reality, it would all feel too powerful. There was no amount of mental preparation that would accomplish anything at all.

  There were some more moments of complete silence. And it really sounded like silence, the ever-present hum of the pre-EMP world industry was completely gone. And nature, for the moment, was silent as well. Birds and insects had, apparently, nothing to say.

  Night fell. The sun was completely gone, and the moon was only a small sliver that the clouds covered almost completely.

  Gradually, their eyes did adapt. But only so far. It was difficult to see, and visibility wasn’t good.

  “Too bad the flashlight batteries are all dead,” muttered Aly, as she narrowly missed walking right into a street sign that she almost didn’t see in time. “What about those flares? Didn’t you bring them along?”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” said Rob.

  “Why not? It’s almost as good as a flashlight, right? I can barely see anything. For all I know, I’m about to walk off a cliff or something. Or worse, we’ll actually be walking into some real trouble. If someone’s up there on the road, waiting, gun in hand, we’re not going to be able to see them.”

  “That’s why we have to be quiet and listen.”

  “It’s not like they’re going to announce their presence.”

  “Still better to be quiet.”

  “Come on, get out those flares.” Aly’s anxiety about Jim was coming to the forefront. Probably not making her think clearly. But for a moment it seemed that if she could get some light, if she could see through the darkness, that it would somehow help Jim.

  “What’s a flare for?” said Rob. “It’s not so you can see other stuff. It’s so that people can see you. It’s to increase your visibility... when you get stuck on the side of the road because your transmission drops out of your car and you don’t want tractor-trailers slamming into you... that’s what flares are for. What they’re not good for is when you’re walking at night through a post-apocalyptic world, hoping that no bad guys spot you and decide that you’re an easy target because you’re incredibly tired and hungry and just barely scraping beneath the point of absolute utter exhaustion.”

  “Uh, good point.” She was too tired to say much more than that. It was all true.

  “Hey, what’s that?”

  “What?”

  “Look, don’t you see it?”

  She could vaguely see the outline of Rob’s arm as he pointed up and ahead of them.

  “Oh, yeah, what is that?”

  It was a strange sight. Like glimmering lights in the distance. Orange and red. Maybe some blue in there too?

  “It’s fire,” said Rob. His voice sounded somewhat distant, as if his mind was in a faraway place.

  “Fire? What’s burning?”

  “It’s really far off. Who knows? The cities? Forests? Could be anything. Come on, let’s get going.”

  It was an eerie sight. The flames remained very small and far away. They weren’t growing because they were already large. They only looked small because they were at a great distance from them. But even so, knowing that they’d never reach them, it felt strange to be intentionally walking towards them.

  In a way, the lights of
the fire were a blessing. At least for some brief moments, Aly’s thoughts turned towards the massive suffering of the multitudes of people that still clung to life, rather than whether or not her husband was alive.

  16

  Rod

  “I don’t get it. Why don’t we just go grab ’em right now?” said Bill. “Why delay the fun any longer?”

  The sun had sunk down below the horizon and they were left in the darkness. Their eyes had adapted as much as they were going to. At least an hour had passed. They couldn’t see much, but they could see enough.

  The darkness made Rod feel excited. Excited about the chase. About the hunt. It reminded him of Halloween night when he’d been a teenager, just coming into the world, just starting to seriously cause some damage, spread some havoc. There was just something about the night. There always had been. It was when the good guys went to sleep and the bad guys came out. And it was, at least as far as Rod understood it, the time of predators, animals who had to hunt to stay alive. That was the way Rod saw himself—a human, like the rest of them, but a predator, unlike the rest of the herd. For whatever reason, he’d been born differently. He’d been cast from a different mold, with his brain simply wired to need to conquer, to revel in the chaos that he enjoyed creating. He wasn’t someone who would have ever been content in a traditional job. He’d have gone to prison within the first week, that was for sure.

  “Come on, I thought we already went over this.”

  “I dunno, man, I guess we did. But I’m getting more, you know?”

  “Just a little bit longer. Trust me, we’re going to enjoy it more the longer we wait.”

  “How do I know that’s true? It’s just like something you’re saying over and over.”

  “Look at it this way. When does a beer taste better? After you’ve already had seven that day, and you’re sipping your eighth. Or that first beer back at the bar, after six months locked up in the can?”

  “After being locked up, of course,” said Bill. “Man, I remember my first one...”

  “There you have it, man,” said Rod, cutting off Bill. “That’s what I’m saying. It’s the waiting that makes it better. The waiting and the wanting.”

  “Yeah, OK, I get you, but I’ve waited long enough now.”

  Rod was starting to think that Bill had a point. They had waited quite a while.

  They’d tracked those women to the basement of a house on the end of a dead-end street. It was just a little stubby street that led away from the cul-de-sac. The women had gone from house to house, thinking all the while that they were hidden, that they were fooling their pursuers, not knowing all the while that Rod was clever and had been onto them practically from the beginning.

  “Trust me, man. Just trust me. It’s going to be better the longer we wait.”

  “I doubt I’ll even be able to get them in my sights if they do come outside,” muttered Bill. “It’s too dark. Way too dark. Hey, shit, did you see that?”

  “What?”

  “Look!”

  Rod had gotten so worked up in trying to convince Bill, that he’d almost missed the main action.

  The bulkhead door that led to the basement had burst open, the two metal doors banging against the ground.

  A figure had emerged, heading quickly away from the house. It was one of the women.

  But which one?

  And where was the other? Was she staying in the basement?

  “Come on, man,” hissed Bill. “We’re letting them get away.”

  Rod really didn’t want to seem like he was all talk. But he also didn’t know what to do. He’d already had his favorite picked out, and now he couldn’t tell the difference between them in the dark.

  Shit.

  He had to make a decision fast.

  Or she’d get away.

  Well, if he couldn’t tell the difference now, maybe he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference later.

  “I’m getting this one,” hissed Rod. “You stay for the one in the basement.”

  “Fine by me.”

  And with that, without even a second glance at his friend, Rod was off, running in the direction that he’d seen the woman disappear in.

  It felt good to run. The night air was cool, and it felt good in his lungs. Good and clean. Wholesome, even. Refreshing.

  It felt good to move his muscles. To stretch his legs.

  It felt good to pump his arms at his sides.

  The night was silent. He could only hear his heavy boots pounding on the uneven ground and his own ragged heavy breathing.

  He was gaining on her.

  He could see the outline of her figure up ahead, but not her features. Still, the outline was enough. She looked good. Maybe a little thin for his tastes. But beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  After he caught her, he’d make sure she ate well. She’s put on some nice weight. Get chunky in just the right places, just the way he liked it. And she’d be appreciative too. It’d be hard not to when he’d literally brought her back from the point of near starvation, from the point of being almost stick thin.

  Suddenly, a small amount of moonlight flashed in her eyes, and he realized that she’d turned her head around. Probably spotted him too.

  But she didn’t increase her pace. So she must have spotted him before.

  He wasn’t too far behind her.

  He had his gun still secured in its holster. He didn’t want to shoot her after all.

  He would if he had to. But he’d only maim her. He was a pretty good shot, after plenty of mornings spent working on a hangover at the range. He was pretty sure he could hit her in a place where she’d be sure to recover, but he didn’t want to risk it.

  Ideally, he’d just chase her down. He had long legs after all. And probably more stamina. Not to mention the speed, which helped with endurance.

  Then he’d pounce on her, pin her down.

  Maybe cut her up a little with the knife. Just to show her who was boss.

  Then he’d just let the night be his inspiration.

  He was a sick guy. He knew that.

  And society had known that instinctively. He’d seen the looks they’d given him.

  But now there was no society. No culture. No rules. Nothing to hem in him. Nothing to hold him back.

  Who was to say he was sick now?

  No one, that’s who.

  There were no psychologists, no doctors, no prison officials. Sure, those people still existed, possibly, if they’d managed to survive, but their jobs didn’t exist. People like Rod were now free, unfettered by those nosy “professionals” who’d built their careers around messing with the fun of people like him.

  He wasn’t sick after all. He was just an animal. And honest about it. He wasn’t the sort of man that hid his own impulses from himself.

  He wasn’t expecting much of a fight from the woman. But something. Some sort of fight. Some sort of struggle. To make it fun. To make it interesting.

  Suddenly, up ahead, she disappeared.

  Rod stopped dead in his tracks.

  It was like some sort of magic trick. She was simply there one moment. And gone the next. No trace of her.

  But Rod wasn’t some dummy. Magic wasn’t real. She was here somewhere.

  She’d probably ducked down somewhere.

  His brain felt a little funny from the speed. His thoughts were racing a little, going off-track a little too much. But he felt sharp. Sharp enough to solve the problem of where she’d gone.

  She had to be ducking down for a reason. There was no way she could think that simply doing that would be enough to get away... and now she was stuck in one place.

  Unless...

  She was planning on attacking. Going on the offensive.

  Rod’s racing mind found the answer just as the gunshot echoed out.

  It was closer than he’d expected.

  He felt the bullet whiz by him, right over his shoulder. He felt the air on his neck.

  Extremely close. Too c
lose.

  His ears rang from the gunshot.

  He threw himself to the ground, landing heavily on his stomach, knocking the breath out of his own lungs.

  He lay there, head lifted up, stomach, crotch, and legs pressed into the cool ground, panting from the running.

  His eyes were wide with surprise.

  He hadn’t expected that she’d fight back like this.

  He couldn’t see her now in the darkness. But he kept his eyes scanning, looking through the dark shapes for something, anything, that seemed out of place.

  She was there somewhere.

  As soon as she got up, he’d spot her.

  But hopefully he’d find her before that.

  He reached for his gun. Got it in his hand. It felt good. The safety was off. It always was. He’d never bothered with safeties much. Just slowed him down. Holsters were enough, he’d always said, provided you had a good one. He wasn’t one of those Hollywood types that went around with his gun just tucked into his waistband or stuffed into his pocket. As far as he was concerned, that was a good way to blow your testicles off. He’d heard of it happening, even if he hadn’t seen it.

  He got the gun in front of him, his arms stretched outwards, his elbows bent just slightly.

  Visibility was bad, but keeping his eyes moving helped. If there was movement, he’d see it.

  She wasn’t going to have an easy time finding him, either. He was flush with the ground, making himself as small of a target as he could.

  There was nothing but silence. Silence and darkness. And a little moonlight as the clouds shifted in the breezes up above. The minutes passed.

  It was tempting to move. To get up and do something, take some action. A less patient man might have caved in to temptation and simply stood up, ready to take what was his, what he felt was owed to him. But Rod knew very well now that as soon as he stood up, he’d likely receive a bullet to the chest. He envisioned himself taking the hit, falling down, and bleeding out painfully on the ground. Maybe his heart would stop first, or maybe his lungs would do him in. It’d depend on what the bullet hit.