After The End

by Jamie Campbell

  I know the world is dangerous these days. The people that are left fight for a finite amount of resources and there is no kind of legal system to keep anyone in check. I understand the need for weapons in this world.

  But what about before?

  They had police officers and rules. Punishment for crimes and ways to find people that did the wrong thing. Why did they need all the guns and knives? It can’t have been solely for hunting, they only had to go to the supermarket for food.

  Maybe the world before wasn’t as great as I imagine it to be. Perhaps when my parents told me stories, they were only the good ones they remembered. I have no idea and I guess I never will know the answers.

  Because it is the new world, I grab some knives and one of the smaller guns and slip them carefully into my backpack. If we come across a gang like that one of boys from the amusement park, I want to be able to defend myself.

  Just in case.

  There is no food in this store but there are some plastic tents. They claim to be waterproof, so I grab some of them too. The rain might burn right through them but it’s worth a shot in case we get caught out again in another storm.

  I move onto the next store. This time, the door opens when I throw my weight into it a couple of times. Just like the one before, nobody else has been through here. It’s so unusual to see pristine shelves and everything as it once was—plus a whole lot of dust and decay.

  This shop used to sell a bit of everything. A shelf of cleaning products sits next to a rack of soap and shampoo. The bottles are heavy so still full of liquid. Whether they’re any good or not is another question. I slip a couple into my bag.

  Seeing so much food on the shelves is enough to make my knees go weak. I hope they are still good, but after seventeen years I have my doubts.

  I take some of the canvas bags from next to the counter and fill them with food. The cans and bags of chips are most likely to still be okay. I leave anything with mold on the shelves. I’m hungry, but not desperate enough to make myself sick.

  There is even some medicine and bandages left. It looks like they only have pain relievers, but that’s better than nothing. We need all this stuff for emergencies. There is no telling when it could come in handy. Of course, when we’re on a ship we won’t need any of it. The health care they offer will be far more superior than anything here on these shelves.

  I’m tempted to leave the couple of knives I took so I can fit in more food. But a cautious little voice in my head tells me not to. That I may need them sometime. I leave them in my pack and stuff food around them.

  After I’m done in the store, I call out for Sarah. We have more than we can carry now so there is no point wasting time and searching any longer.

  She emerges from a storefront down the street with nothing in her hands. “Did you find anything?” she asks.

  I hold up the bags. “Lots of things. Grab some food from the shelves inside and we’ll eat before we go. Fill up as much as you want.”

  I’ve heard my parents say ‘like a kid in a candy store’ before. It always conjured up a powerful image of having so much choice that it’s impossible to think straight. Watching Sarah in the store now reminds me of that saying.

  She runs around the aisles, grabbing food randomly and shoving it in her backpack until it’s overflowing. She shoves some more into her pockets. When everything she has is full, she grabs anything else she can and sits on the floor to eat it.

  Once she’s had her pick, I grab some packets and join her on the floor. The packet of chips I open is still fresh. No sign of mold inside and the chips are still crunchy when I bite down on them. The taste explodes in my mouth.

  I eat three packets of chips before moving onto some jelly. It tastes off so I try something else. The cakes all have mold growing underneath the plastic, but the cookies don’t. I grab a giant cookie with brightly colored spots on it. The colors seem faded but it tastes just fine.

  The cookie is so good I stuff some more into my bag for later. I’m going to be really sad when they are all gone. Sarah takes a couple for herself too.

  We eat like we haven’t done so before. I know I’ll probably have a stomachache later but I don’t care. Everything tastes so good and for once I don’t have to worry about rationing. It’s a smorgasbord that I never want to leave.

  Sarah sits back and takes a deep breath. “I think I’m full.” She pats her stomach which has a nice rounded appearance. It’s nice not seeing her ribs for once.

  “I can fit in one more chocolate bar,” I boldly declare. I grab a bar and open the wrapper. It’s white but I know it’s not mold—Garlind taught me that. Apparently, the fat in the chocolate can pool and that’s what causes the whiteness. It’s not harmful, just means the taste might not be as good as it once was.

  It tastes like eating heaven.

  I cram the chocolate bar into my mouth and then have another one. I’m beyond full but the sensation is so unusual that I relish it. I never want to leave this store.

  We slump against a wall and look at the mess we’ve made. Empty wrappers and crumbs are all over the floor. It looks like an animal has come through and had a feast. Hunger makes people do terrible things. I never would have been this messy in the bunker.

  I push up onto my knees and use a display rack to get to my feet. I think I’ve doubled my weight in the last half hour. “We should get on our way. We can’t stay here.”

  “Will there be food on the ship?”

  “There is enough food for everybody to eat comfortably, three times a day.”

  It’s only my promise that gets her up. “We’d better go catch one those ships then. I don’t want to be that hungry ever again.”

  “Neither do I.”

  It’s difficult leaving so much food behind but it’s impossible to take it all with us. We’re weighed down with extra bags as it is. I feel more like a pack horse than a person right now. It will be worth it though, especially when we actually have food for dinner tonight.

  We leave the rest of the small town for others to discover. The only other thing I do is leave my usual message for Garlind on the biggest wall I can find. Beyond everything else, I hope he’s alive and following me. I can’t bear the thought of him being lost to me forever.

  The food in our bellies and in our arms slows us down all afternoon. Our pace has waned but at least we’re on the move. It’s nice not having the hunger driving me every second of the day. I’m going to enjoy the sensation of being full for as long as I can.

  We spend the night on the road in a car. It’s a rust bucket but has a complete roof with no holes. I don’t expect it to rain, but I’m not going to be caught out again. It’s nice having the safety of four metal walls around us.

  Going to sleep with a full belly is a nice feeling. It’s comforting knowing we can eat when we’re hungry. We still need to ration but I think we have enough to get us right through to Charleston. Providing we don’t overindulge or drag our feet.

  I’m awoken shortly after midnight by a noise outside. I lay still and listen, wondering what the noise is that pulled me from sleep. It’s not a sound I normally hear.

  It’s marching.

  It has to be some kind of pack of animals. Maybe some large ones—or mutant ones. Whatever species they are, there has to be a lot of them.

  I shake Sarah until she wakes up. Covering her mouth with my hand, I tug on my ear so she knows to listen. Her eyes grow wider as the sound registers.

  Removing my hand, I gesture to the floor. I have no intention of getting out of the car now. The walls offer us some protection for whatever it is. Out there, we’d have to rely on running to getting away from the animals. Hiding is a much better option right now. I fear they are too close to have any other choice.

  We crouch down on the floor and be as still as possible. The marching sound is getting closer and louder. They are coming straight for us. If they find us here, we’ll be trapped in a cage. If they are strong enough, they’ll break rig
ht on through.

  Perhaps hiding wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  Chapter 18

  As quietly and as slowly as I can, I reach for my backpack and withdraw one of the knives I stole from the last town. It’s heavy in my hand and all I have to protect us.

  I hand another one to Sarah. At least I know I can trust her with the sharp weapon. Another eight-year-old might hurt themselves, but she knows how to hunt. Her parents taught her some handy skills.

  Even if she does hold the knife like a serial killer.

  I hold mine more like a sword and hope I’ll have the courage to use it if I have to. I will do anything I need to do to protect us. I keep telling myself that over and over again until I start to believe it to be true.

  “I can hunt them,” Sarah whispers. I can barely hear her over the constant thump-thump-thump from outside.

  “You can’t go out there.”

  “But it’s food. We could have meat for breakfast.”

  “No. Do as I say and just be still,” I admonish.

  She pouts but remains on the floor. The last thing I need is the little girl tearing from the car and chasing after the animals by herself. She’ll likely get us both killed by doing that. I don’t care what she says about her hunting skills.

  The echo of the animals’ march sends vibrations through the car. I can feel every one of their beats in my ribcage as it shakes me. Whatever they are, they are big. Which means they can probably tear through this metal as if it’s nothing.

  I take some calming breaths and tell myself they’ll pass by. There is no reason for them to think there are two juicy humans in this particular car. There are dozens of vehicles scattered on this part of the road. Unless they check everyone, it would have to be a miracle for them to find us hiding here.

  Unless they can smell us.

  The unwelcome thought consumes me for a few minutes as I do nothing but internally panic about it. Animals can smell fear, right? I’m probably making myself even more aromatic by worrying about it. But I can’t stop.

  They’re going to find us.

  And eat us.

  And we’re going to die a horrible, painful, bloody death.

  “Maisy?” The soft voice jolts me out of my thoughts. Sarah is giving me a strange look, her forehead wrinkled with concern.

  “Shhh,” I reply.

  “You don’t look so good.”

  “I’m fine. Be quiet.”

  The little girl knows me too well already.

  The marching sound peaks and I can see their shadows out the top of the car windows. I hold my breath until I almost pass out. The animals are so close now, just on the other side of the door. Steel has never seemed so flimsy and inadequate before.

  I imagine the teeth and claws just inches away. There has to be hundreds of them out there. Maybe even thousands if the noise is anything to go by. The marching keeps on going and going. How many are there to take so long to walk past our car?

  Closing my eyes doesn’t help anything. I keep them open and wide, ready to spring at any moment if I need too. The knife is reassuring in my hand but probably useless if they tore open the door and ripped me out with their teeth.

  It seems to take forever for them to go by. The whole time I hope they keep going. I wish they weren’t heading in the same direction that we are. I don’t want to catch up to the herd anytime in my future.

  Never. Ever.

  The noise eventually fades away. We still don’t move until it has absolutely gone and even then, we wait a little longer. My legs are suffering from pins and needles for being in the one awkward position for too long. My hand has gone to sleep from holding the knife too hard.

  “What do we do now?” Sarah asks.

  “We try to get some more sleep and hope they are far away from us in the morning.”

  She accepts my instruction and curls up on the seat again. Before I can bear to close my eyes, I peek out the window. I half expect a giant mutant animal to be staring back at me but all I can see is darkness. Whatever they were, they’re gone now.

  I attempt to sleep but remain tossing and turning for the rest of the night. Seeing the light come over the horizon in the morning is a welcome sight. I’m ready to get out of here so we’re not so exposed to whatever else is outside.

  We eat a good—although, far from healthy—breakfast before we leave. I’m constantly waiting for an animal to jump out at us, but nothing does when we get out of the car. Everything is as still and silent as it normally is in the early morning.

  When I look down at the road, I see the tracks the animals left behind. At least, that’s what I think they are. Everything I’ve learned about animals didn’t mention these kinds of footsteps. They are thin and narrow and buried so far into the dirt covering the road that they create a pattern. The tracks absolutely covers the road in all directions.

  “What animal do you think these tracks belong to?” I ask the closest thing to an expert I have right now.

  Sarah crouches down and gets a close up of the tracks. She rubs her chin as she studies it, reminding me of a cartoon I used to watch in the bunker. I wait for the verdict.

  She shrugs. “I have no idea.”

  “You haven’t seen it before?”

  “Nope. I’ve hunted deer and bear and a bunch of small rodents but none of them left tracks like this. My dad would know…if he were here to ask.”

  They must be mutants. That’s the only explanation I have. We can’t identify the animals because they are a mutant breed brought on by the meteorite’s radiation. They may have started out as a regular animal but now don’t resemble anything of the species they once were.

  I keep my conclusion to myself. I doubt Sarah has been told about the effects of the radiation—just like Garlind and the others were in the dark about it. I’m not sure having scientists for parents was a good thing or bad thing. Being in the dark about our reality might be preferable. I don’t want to scare Sarah with all the details.

  The tracks lead all the way down the road in our direction so we can’t avoid them. Our human shoe prints overwrite them as we start out for the day. I’m keenly aware that they still might be in the area so all my senses stay sharp. Every noise makes me jump, every smell snatches my attention.

  We follow the animals all the way to the next town. Vines cover most of the road when we enter the city limits but they have all been trampled down. I hope they are long gone from this area by now. I know we’re not walking fast enough to catch up with them by any means. Not to mention their head start.

  There is a weird smell to the town. The scent lingers on the breeze but I can’t place my finger on what exactly it is. It’s sweet but sickly. Maybe some rotten fruit or a swamp? I’m not sure what it could be.

  “I don’t like this place,” Sarah says as she scrunches up her nose. She shakes out her arms. “It gives me the creeps. I want to leave.”

  “The fastest way is through the town. We’ll be out of here soon,” I reply. She gives me a dirty look so I know her displeasure at my answer. It’s the truth, though. The fastest way is always a straight line and not the circle we’d have to do to avoid the town all together.

  Sarah fastens her pace and I match it. I have no desire to linger in the town either. Especially with that smell in the air. I’m constantly trying to identify what it could be but I come up empty every time. Only a tiny breeze is needed to bring me a new batch of the stench.

  Everything here is still and quiet. No animals linger and there are absolutely no people around. That’s not unusual, but what is odd is the lack of birds. They are normally everywhere, singing or chirping, or cawing. In this town, I haven’t seen one living thing.

  Sarah was right, this place gives me the creeps too.

  What would make all the birds disappear?

  I wish I had my books with me. Perhaps there would be something within the pages that could answer my question. Whatever the reason, I’m sure it’s not a good one. Birds are smart,
they don’t stick around where it’s not safe.

  I don’t share any of my concerns and observations with Sarah. She doesn’t need to feel even more wary of the place. It’s best if we just get out of here as quickly as possible and never come back.

  The smell gets worse.

  My hand covers my mouth and nose as I struggle to avoid the horrible stench. It seems to cling to the air particles and wants to choke us. I can’t imagine it belonging to anything good.

  “I’m going to throw up,” Sarah declares. Two seconds later, she’s hunched over and vomiting in the middle of the street. I hold her hair back and try not to heave myself.

  When she’s done, I find her water bottle. “Have a few sips, it will make you feel better.”

  She staggers over to sit in the gutter as she cradles the bottle. The smell of her vomit now mixes with the stench in the air and threatens to take me down. I swallow and clamp my teeth together tightly, determined not to lose my breakfast.

  “Can you walk?” I ask. We need to move on and fast. Every one of my senses is screaming at me to run away right now.

  “I just need a minute,” she replies and takes another sip of water. All the color has drained from her little face. I wish I could be of more help to her, but I think the only thing that will assist now is distancing ourselves from this place.

  I find myself wandering around the immediate area, poking my head inside the stores through the broken windows and doors. I may as well check for supplies while I’m here.

  This town has taken a beating. Not one window is intact and all the doors are hanging on by a thread—if they have one at all. It might have been quaint and pretty once, but it’s little more than a wreck now.

  As I step down an alleyway, the smell grows in intensity. My instincts tell me to turn around but my curiosity is dying to know what the cause of the horrible aroma is. It’s a sick fascination but I need to know.

  The back of the small brick building opens up into a large courtyard. Perhaps it was once a parking lot for the nearby shops. Not one car remains here now.