by Dan McNeill
Prologue
The Night. More than ever before, the night held terrors. The wind carried strange sounds that whipped through the trees like the wailing of the uncountable dead rising from the grave to devour the living. More immediate and ominous were the sounds closer to home, the scratching of the beasts of the forest on the deck outside the cottage, the occasional crash of glass breaking off in great shards due to the passage of some small bird or even the simple expansion and contraction on the window panes in the now untended homes. The nocturnal sounds of the world frightened Raymond Bean. It was odd, in a way; Raymond could count the number of times he had truly been afraid in his life on the fingers of his hands.
At least it was that way before the Rapture virus. The Rap changed everything. No one who survived those dark times could ever truly know peace. But were there survivors? That question scared Raymond more than the darkness. The answer was one he tried to banish from his thoughts the same way his mother could banish his night terrors by a simple flip of a light switch and a gentle humming of a Beatles song.
These days, Raymond had neither of these comforts. There had been no electricity for close to three years now. Even before the failure of the power grids, the night sky was filled with the eerie afterglow of the bombs detonated in the skies to help stop the spread. As if frying the guts of cars and airplanes would halt a virus that needed neither.
And now. Now the night brought an inky blackness that even the full moon and the stars could not dispel. Each night brought the thoughts of a thousand dangers to Raymond’s imagination. The beasts of the forests had reclaimed their homes after man’s fall. They had grown wild and feral. Fires sprung up from unkempt fields and whole towns could be put to the torch from one lightning strike. Then there were the more subtle fears- would the stores of food that Raymond and Po had collected last through the harsh winters? What would happen to Po if Raymond hurt himself and couldn’t take care of him? Would Abraham ever return?
More fears. They assaulted Raymond constantly. “If only Mom were here…” he thought as he caressed the barrel of his rifle. “But no, don’t think of her. Not now, in the dark.”
The muffled shuffling of a large creature passing on the porch brought a low growl from Rowdy’s throat. “Thank God, for you,” Raymond thought. “Without you boy, me and Po would never have made it.” One small blessing was left to mankind- its loyal companion the dog had held firm in the bonds of friendship.
Raymond’s Dad had said that Rowdy couldn’t be trained- that he was too wild at heart. But he was wrong. Wrong about everything. The big, goofy Irish Setter pup had turned into a first rate guard and an excellent hunting dog. Rowdy had learned. They all had learned. It wasn’t wise to make too much noise. There were worse things in the night than bears and coyotes. Worse things than even the ghosts and goblins that haunted Po’s dreams. Wild animals still had survival instincts, even if they no longer feared men. A man with a rifle and a good dog by his side could scare them off. As for the ghosts and goblins…well in a way they were much more real and worthy of fear than Po imagined.
“Get to sleep, Raymond,” he said to himself. Raymond closed his eyes and laid his rifle across his legs. Rowdy had things under control now. And Po will be up before sunrise. Get to sleep.
But sleep was a long time in coming.
