by Mike Kraus
Rachel grabbed handfuls of batteries as she mused, sticking them into the side pouches of the ALICE pack. She clipped a flashlight onto her belt and stuffed three more into the bag, making sure they had batteries installed and were functional first. Light, food… water, right.
Rachel walked into a back room of the basement, shining her light ahead of her. The damage back here was less than the main chamber, but it was still full of rubble and a thick layer of dust. She took the flashlight in her mouth and grabbed several liters of water in her arms, bringing them back out and arranging them in the pack on top of the food. The pack was nearly full now, and she guessed it was up to nearly fifty pounds. She grabbed a few more items from the shelves, sticking them into the pack, doing her best not to forget anything vital. An empty CamelBak, a first aid kit, some survival tins, a tightly wrapped length of paracord and an assortment of survival knives finished off the pack. She closed it tightly, ensuring it was fitted properly to its metal frame, then hoisted it onto her back.
She shifted it slightly, adjusting straps here and there until it was comfortable. Once she was satisfied, she took it off again and lowered it to the ground. Can’t forget the most important thing of all. Rachel ducked back into the side room again and put her flashlight on a shelf illuminating a large metal locker. It was nearly seven feet tall, four feet wide and four feet deep, with a thick padlock on the front. Climbing on a nearby shelf, she reached around on the top of the locker until she felt a key. Rachel jumped down from the shelf and opened the padlock, pulling on the heavy metal doors as they slowly swung open.
As the locker doors swung open, Rachel smiled grimly again as she looked over row after row of firearms. Dozens of long guns, a heavy assortment of pistols and a pair of Barrett M82A1 .50 caliber beasts smiled back. Rachel had shot most of the weapons that the locker held, but she knew that taking anything heavy with her would be a mistake. She was already going to be hauling over fifty pounds of food, water and supplies, and she couldn’t let anything big weigh her down.
Rachel scanned the handguns first, finally settling on a Glock 19 and 26, both chambered in 9mm and equipped with laser sights. She stuck several magazines in her ALICE pack along with the baby Glock, then attached a leg holster to her right thigh and put on the 19. After looking through the rifles, she settled on an AR-15 and several magazines of 5.56mm rounds. The rifle would add a lot of extra weight to her gear, but the trip from Atlanta to DC was potentially life-threatening and could take a couple weeks or more if she wasn’t able to find a working vehicle. She knew that the food and water wouldn’t last her until she reached Richmond, but with a weapon and some scavenging at various stores along the way, she was hopeful that she’d be able to make it.
Rachel shouldered her pack and rifle, adjusting everything one final time before she began to climb out of the basement. At the top of the stairs, Rachel looked around her at the remains of the house for one last time. She thought of Jeremy and Julie and a single tear ran down her cheek, the only evidence that her emotionless barrier was beginning to break down. She whistled for Sam and he came bounding up after her, panting and wagging his tail excitedly as though he knew they were setting off for a long trip. She patted his head and smiled sadly, imagining what might lie in front of them.
Of course, even if we do get there, then the real challenge begins.
3:32 PM, March 29, 2038
Marcus Warden
After the incident in the bus, Marcus was anticipating an eventful walk, yet it was anything but. After walking for a few hours, he stopped on the side of a dirt road at the top of a small hill looking down at the valley beyond as he sipped on a bottle of water. The Appalachian Mountains were just barely visible through the clouds still hanging low in the sky, and though it was still early in the year, the hills were covered with green.
He had passed through several small neighborhoods and farms so far, yet there was still no sign of anyone. He had pounded on doors, broken a few windows and shouted at the top of his lungs, but he still couldn’t find anything but traces of evidence that people had been around recently. Recently wrecked cars, a spilled bag of groceries on a front porch and an overturned bicycle all spoke of people being there recently, but he was unable to find them if they were still nearby.
Marcus took another sip of water, turning the questions over in his mind as he watched the distant clouds move over the mountains. Then, off in the distance, a flash of movement caught his eyes. At first he thought it was just a stand of trees swaying in the breeze, but a few seconds later something moved again, silver in color, several miles away but bright enough to catch his eye.
Thoughts of the bus drove Marcus to roll forward onto his stomach, making his form as flat as possible. He reached into his pack and pulled out a small pair of bird-watching binoculars, raising them to his eyes and training them on the spot where he saw the movement. He scanned back and forth several times until he finally spotted the source of the movement.
Marcus was expecting a cloud-like mass of silver like he encountered in the bus, but this was markedly different. Marcus stared at the thing for a few seconds, not daring to breathe as he tried to comprehend what it was.
The shape of the creature was humanlike, that was certain. Tatters of clothing hung from its shoulders and trailed from its feet as it ran across an open field, fluttering behind it as it pounded forward at an ungodly speed, faster than Marcus had ever seen a person run. Aside from a few strips of torn clothing, the rest of the creature was nude, though not in the conventional sense. There was bare skin, but it was broken by patchworks of silver that extended from the creature’s head down to its legs. It was far enough away that Marcus couldn’t make out much. In a few seconds more, the creature had reached the stand of trees at the far side of the field, leaping effortlessly over a fence before entering the forest, still running at the same breakneck speed.
Marcus slowly lowered his binoculars and lay still for a few moments before getting back on his feet. The creature he saw, whatever it was, looked part human, which both excited and terrified him. Maybe it was a long-distance runner? In the middle of nowhere, though? And running through an empty field? Marcus knew it was abnormal and couldn’t have been a runner, but he couldn’t think of any other explanation.
9:17 AM, March 27, 2038
Leonard McComb
MREs had quickly gained a reputation as “Meals Rejected by Everyone” (one of the more polite terms) instead of “Meals, Ready-to-Eat” but this was the first time that Leonard had ever tasted an MRE and been truly grateful for it. In fact, at that moment, it was the best food he had ever had and all the memories of eating them during his on-the-job training melted away. Once he finished, he discarded the package and looked over what he had salvaged from the emergency cabinet downstairs.
Only two of the flashlights still worked, but all of the headlamps were still functional. He removed the headlamps from their mountings along with their batteries and stuck them down into his pack. There were six MREs left, one small first aid kit and several gallons of water. He wasn’t sure what the conditions were like on the surface, but he figured that given how bad they were underground that he should carry as much with him as possible. All of the MREs fit comfortably in his pack along with the first aid kit, but he wasn’t able to fit any water in. Several minutes of poking around, however, revealed a short coil of rope which he quickly fashioned into a shoulder harness to carry two gallons of water.
Loaded up as he was, he wouldn’t be able to move very quickly, but he was close enough to the surface that it wouldn’t matter – or so he hoped. Once he was up into the city proper he’d be able to determine if he had brought enough supplies with him or not and figure out what to do from there.
With his hunger and immediate concerns about food and water satisfied, Leonard walked to the back of the control room and pulled on the handle of a door. It swung open with a creak, revealing a steep staircase carved into the stone and dirt that spiraled up towards
the surface. Next to the stairway sat an elevator shaft, but without power, it wasn’t going anywhere.
Leonard began his slow climb up the stairs, pausing every dozen or so to catch his breath. With each set he climbed, he perceived a subtle change in the lighting. After several climbing sessions he realized that the change was growing stronger and was being caused by light trickling in from the surface. This first glimpse of sunlight gave him energy to spare and he practically bounded up the remainder of the stairs, stopping at the upper landing. In front of him was a thick steel door with a small porthole. The porthole’s glass had been shattered out and the door hung at an angle from a solitary hinge, stuck a few inches open.
Leonard tugged at the door with one hand. When it didn’t budge, he set aside his shoulder pack and the water jugs and tried again, this time with both hands, bracing one leg against the wall next to the door. After a few seconds of grunting and pulling, the door began to open, the metal howling in protest as the door slid along the frame. Once the door was opened wide enough that Leonard could squeeze through, he threw his pack and the water jugs into the opening and then squirmed through.
Once on the other side of the door, Leonard picked up the pack and the water and continued walking. He was inside a narrow corridor that gradually widened as he walked. The corridor had a slight upwards slope and was made of solid steel. Even so, he could see that it was heavily damaged and the farther he walked, the more light poured in through cracks and crevices that were torn in the ceiling of the corridor.
Leonard reached the end of the corridor and stood in front of a set of double steel door frames, their doors having been ripped out by some cataclysmic event. The light was blinding now, making it difficult for him to see what lay beyond. With a deep breath he stepped through the doorframes and into the outside.
11:13 AM, March 29, 2038
Nancy Sims
Glass of water in hand, Nancy walked out of the house and back towards the barn, sipping it as she went. While she was unsure of what to do next, she wanted to explore the barn more thoroughly now that she had seen the inside of the house. A quick walkthrough had revealed nothing interesting; it was just like any other average American home in the country, just with more farming-related knick-knacks and apparel than she had seen in her life. After she checked the bedrooms, bathrooms and basement for any signs of life, she decided to check the barn again, seeing as how she hadn’t had a chance to look through it very thoroughly yet.
The cows had grown more restless since she was there earlier and Nancy realized that they were probably both hungry and thirsty from being locked in their stalls for who-knew-how-long. She opened each of their gates in turn and they trotted out of the barn door and into the yard, munching on grass as they walked. Nancy hoped that the owners of the place didn’t mind her intrusions, but it was beginning to look more and more like they might not be coming back.
After releasing the cows, Nancy looked over the rest of the barn. While half of it was obviously reserved for animals, there was a second half that was only accessible through an interior and exterior door, both of which were closed and latched. Nancy pulled open the latch on the interior door and walked in, squinting as she tried to adjust her eyes to the darkness inside.
After a few seconds, Nancy gasped as she made out what was in front of her. Even in the darkness, the shine on the 1980’s era Ford pickup truck was obvious, showing the upkeep and care that had gone into maintaining it. Nancy went to the front of the barn and undid the latch there, as well, then slid it open so that she could see the vehicle more clearly.
The sides of the truck said “F-250” with a large “DIESEL” label underneath. It was an old truck for sure, but it looked like it was in mint condition. There wasn’t a speck of dirt on it, the body was in perfect condition and each of the four tires was fully aired and had chrome that was polished to within an inch of its life.
Nancy didn’t particularly enjoy trucks, but seeing any kind of vehicle, especially one that looked to be in perfect working order, was a dream come true. Nancy went to the driver’s side door and tugged on the handle, bracing herself for the disappointment of it being locked. It wasn’t locked, though, and she nearly squealed in delight. She climbed up into the seat and pushed on the steering wheel, honking the horn loudly several times, trying to attract the attention of anyone in the area.
Nancy wasn’t the type to just walk into a house, eat someone’s food and then take their car, but she felt like she had done all she could to find the people who lived here. That, combined with the events that led to the crash (she still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened), and the strange encounter that morning in the barn had left her feeling disoriented and uneasy. She wanted nothing more than to get out of there and make her way to the closest town.
She lay on the horn one last time for a full thirty seconds and waited another ten minutes, but still, no one showed up. Nancy reached for the front dash, instinctively searching for the start button that she was used to in modern cars. A few seconds of pushing on the dashboard later, she laughed to herself and reached for the ignition instead, grasping at air as she realized the keys weren’t there.
If I had a mint condition pickup in my barn, where would I hide the keys? She jumped back out of the truck and went back inside the house, searching slower and more carefully this time. After a few moments, she spotted it: a key rack hanging on the inside of a coat closet near the front door. In the middle of the key rack hung a pair of ancient-looking keys that could only be for the truck. Nancy snatched the keys, ran back to the barn and got back into the truck. With a deep breath, she inserted one of the keys into the switch and turned it.
8:12 PM, March 29, 2038
Marcus Warden
By the time the sun was low on the horizon, Marcus was exhausted. It had taken him all day, but he was finally near the foot of the Appalachian mountain range, well inside the Virginia state border. The day had passed uneventfully after the sighting earlier in the day, though he had made sure to stay well away from the area where he had spotted the man-creature running. He no longer bothered to check houses or shops for people when he passed them, opting for a quick knock on the front door of houses along his way before continuing on. The lack of people was growing more troubling, especially when combined with the sighting. He was in an extremely rural area now, far away from major cities where he expected to at least find a farmer, retiree or recluse of some kind. He had encountered plenty of farm animals, cats, dogs and other fauna, but there was still no sight of any people in the area.
Choosing an area near the edge of the forest that marked the true start of the mountain climb ahead of him, Marcus dropped his backpack on the ground, rolling his shoulders. He decided to make camp at the base of the mountains for the night and then begin his hike along an old service road that was marked on his map in the morning. This service road, assuming it was still passable, would take him straight across the mountains, dumping him out close to a road that led into the next largest city over, Charlottesville.
Marcus was still wary of the thing he saw that morning and he opted to skip a fire for the night, choosing instead to open a can of peaches and another pack of beef jerky. As the shadows grew long, he turned on a small flashlight to its lowest setting, pointing it at the ground to keep it relatively hidden while still enabling him to eat his meal.
As he ate, he grew more relaxed, growing tired as the sounds of the night forest grew around him. Crickets chirped loudly and bats dove overhead, their faint squeaking echoing as they dined on moths and other insects. Off in the distance, high in the mountains somewhere, he heard the howl of a coyote, then the answer of another as it called back to the first.
Marcus finished his dinner and tucked the waste into a side pouch on his backpack. He pulled out a machete he kept looped to the back of the backpack and set it down beside him. Spreading a sleeping roll on the ground, he laid down on it, using the backpack as a makeshift pillow and tucking the mache
te under his right leg to keep it close within reach. After Marcus shut off his flashlight, he remained awake for a while, watching the stars grow bright in the sky and listening to the sounds of the wildlife around him.
10:39 AM, March 27, 2038
Leonard McComb
If the devil himself had brought hell up and overlaid it on top of the earth, it still wouldn’t have been as gruesome and terrible to witness as the devastation that now stretched across the landscape. Roiling clouds drifted through the skies, covering the ground in a murky shadow in one moment and letting rays of sunlight through in the next. Acrid smoke and hot fires smoldered in every street and corner of the city, feeding off of gutted buildings, overturned cars and the bodies of countless victims whose remains lay scattered in the streets.
