Famine: The Quiet Apocalypse

by T M Edwards

  Without another word, the girl took off for the door. I bent down and grabbed my cane from the van floor, then looked up at Sam as he walked around the front of the van.

  He placed his arm around my shoulders and mine went around his waist, and together we headed for the closeness and chaos that we knew we’d find inside the bunker.

  4: Bad Shrooms

  “Deidre!” Someone was poking the outside of the tent and making the whole thing shudder. “Deidre, wake up!”

  I opened my eyes to darkness and groaned. “Zena, go away. It’s not even light yet.”

  “Deidre, Cook’s fighting with Laura, and they sound really mad. You need to come right now.”

  “Damn it.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing!” I sighed and sat up. Throwing my blankets back, I reached over to the box I used for a nightstand and clicked the lamp on. “Go back in there and tell them to quit. I’ll be there in a minute.” I picked up my cane where it was leaning on the box and limped over to the wall. With my free hand I rapped my knuckles on the edge of the dark doorway. We’d taken over Dalen’s tent and his secret room after his death, and Sam slept in the room to prevent his nightmares from bothering anyone else. “Sam, wake up.”

  A sleepy groan issued from the darkness, and I reached through the doorway to feel around for the light switch. When I found it, the single fluorescent light bulb in the ceiling turned on, filling the room with weak bluish light. We’d shoved all of Dalen’s spying equipment in a corner and thrown tarps over it. The only other furnishings were Sam’s cot and a tall metal shelf where we kept some of our more valuable supplies.

  “What? What time is it?”

  I glanced at the analog clock hanging on the wall. “It’s five-thirty. Cook and Laura are fighting. We need to go see what’s going on.”

  His arm emerged from the tangled blankets and waved a hand at me half-heartedly. “I’ll be right there.” I jumped when a black form emerged from beneath the cot. I’d forgotten about the dog. She nosed through Sam’s blankets and licked his face until he swatted her away and sat up.

  “Come on. You know how Cook gets, and the man knows how to wield a knife.” I watched until I was sure he wouldn’t go back to sleep, then turned away from the groggy man with his messy hair and his white t-shirt and gray sweatpants that had seen better days. He’d probably catch up with me before I got halfway to the kitchen.

  Honey Badger followed me as I walked back through my tent and out into the common area. The dog bounded in circles around me, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. When she barked, I jumped and scolded her. The sound echoed back from the corrugated metal above our heads. She barely acknowledged my rebuke, but at least she didn’t bark again.

  I could already hear what was going on in the kitchen, even from halfway down the bunker. People were emerging from tents, bleary-eyed and blinking, with confusion on their faces. I managed to convince a few to go back to sleep, but the ruckus was still drawing a bit of a crowd.

  By the time I reached the door that led to the shipping-container-turned-kitchen, I had to push through a half-dozen people gathered near the doorway. When they saw the big, black dog at my heels, they parted to let me the rest of the way through.

  Cook was standing with his clenched fists on the industrial steel table that ran down the center of the space. His face was beet red. His shouts made Honey Badger yelp and crawl onto a shelf beneath a sink, pushing stacks of bowls and a toaster onto the floor with a clatter that only seemed to enrage Cook further. Laura, the stout and motherly woman who was in charge of keeping inventory of our supplies, stood leaning against a fridge with her arms crossed stubbornly over her chest.

  “Alright!” I pitched my voice to carry over the shouts. “Someone better tell me what the hell is worth waking up the entire bunker at the buttcrack of dawn, or…” I let my voice trail off in what I hoped was an ominous fashion. I could never think of good threats on the spot. Especially when facing down two people twice my age with my only claim to authority the fact that they, along with everyone else, depended on me to keep them fed.

  “Do I look like a wizard to you?”

  I gazed at Cook with one eyebrow raised. “No.”

  “Then how does she,” he punctuated this with a stab of his finger in Laura’s direction, “expect me to feet two hundred people with so little? If they’re hungry, guess who they blame? Cook, that’s who. Not the one with the keys to the storeroom.”

  “Just because I have the keys doesn’t mean I control how much is in there!” Laura’s eyes are pleading, but her gaze is directed at me, not at Cook.

  Crap. They’re about thirty seconds away from turning this on me. I sighed. “Neither one of you is at fault. Cook, if someone blames you, send them to me or Sam. Or tell us. The solar panels could always use more dusting, if people need some time outside to remind them why it takes so long to get more food. I know they’re hungry. We all are. But you can’t cook food you don’t have, and neither can Laura give it to you. Laura, if we continue eating at this rate, how long do we have?” I jumped a little when Sam walked up beside me and his sleeve brushed my arm. I reached down and grabbed his hand for support. My heart’s nervous pounding slowed just a little with him next to me.

  Laura uncrossed her arms and ran a weary hand through her shoulder-length brown hair. “Maybe two weeks? The rice might last longer, and some of the spices. But the rest of it won’t. Not to mention the fact that we barely have enough water in the system for drinking and decon showers, let alone cleaning all the dishes he,” she gestures at Cook, “wants to use.”

  Cook bristled. “You try cooking for…”

  “Enough.” Sam’s voice cut through Cook’s rising tone and Laura’s indignant response. He stepped forward and placed his palms on the table. “Both of you need to remember that we all agreed to this arrangement. We agreed to limited rations. We agreed that Laura has faithfully kept inventory for as long as the bunker has been operational, and nothing has ever gone missing under her watch. We agreed that Cook’s culinary skills far surpass those of anyone else here. You are both experts in what you do. And we need you to work together, not against each other. If this community dissolves into bickering and paranoia, it will mean lives lost. We all want to survive, and we are all devoted to that purpose. If anyone complains, send them to one of us. We are happy to offer them a place on our supply runs if they think they can do better than us. Okay?”

  It was obvious neither person was entirely placated, but Laura nodded and Chef muttered something that sounded like assent. Sam straightened, and slapped his hands on the table. “Good. Now, can we defer any further arguments until a more reasonable hour? Say, sometime after dawn?” This managed to prompt a grudging smile out of Laura, and Cook nodded, even if he grumbled at the same time. “Great.” He turned around, and confusion filled his features. “Why is the dog on the shelf?”

  I couldn’t stop a laugh. “I think Cook scared her.”

  Sam bent down to peer under the sink. The dog thumper her tail and wriggled around to show her belly. “Honey Badger, unless you want a name change, you’re gonna have to toughen up, girlfriend. Come on.” She obeyed, though she cast several resentful glances in Cook’s direction as we left the kitchen. “Everybody had enough gawking?”

  The crowd scattered under the force of Sam’s tone, except for Zena, who fell into step beside me. She had a scrap of something in her hand, which she waved at Honey Badger. The dog didn’t seem to notice.

  I was prepared to follow Sam back to our tents when I caught sight of an Asian lady in a white lab coat standing just outside the med tent. She motioned at me, and I limped over.

  “Dr. Haroun. Is everything alright?”

  The shorter woman held the tent flap aside. “I’d like to check that ankle.”

  I sighed, but obediently followed her inside. Once the canvas fell down behind us, she waved for me to take a seat on the cot in the corner. I bypassed the hospital bed, its head
surrounded by monitors, and lowered myself to sit on the cot’s hard surface. “You couldn’t have done this a little later in the day?” The only light came from a lantern on the wall to my right.

  Dr. Haroun sat on the metal rolling stool and scooted over, then motioned for me to put my foot on her knee. With gentle hands she rolled up the leg of my sweatpants and touched the skin over the deformity in the bone. “I needed to speak with you before the day gets busy.” After a moment she pulled my pants leg back down and let me put my foot on the floor. “On your next trip, I need you to keep an eye out for pharmacies and hospitals.”

  “We’ve already raided the big ones. I thought you had plenty of supplies to last a while?”

  She nodded, and pulled a scrap of paper out of her pocket. “There’s some specific things we need.”

  I unfolded the paper and read the list scrawled on it.

  Zofran

  Prenatal vitamins

  Even though most of the rest of the list was gibberish to me, I recognized the first two names, and I look up at Haroun in shock. “Who?”

  Haroun sighed and swung back and forth on the stool. “I can’t say anything until she’s ready to share. But she’s extremely ill. She may not make it through the pregnancy if I can’t get the vomiting under control. We don’t have the facilities or the resources we need to deal with such an extreme case.” She grimaced. “We also have a others with severe health concerns. There’s other critical medication on that list, too. These people will die, and soon, if their medications can’t be replenished..”

  I’d managed to keep my anxiety in check throughout the exchange with Cook and Laura, but this new complication brought it all roaring back. She could die. They could die. And not in weeks or months...days. My voice shook as I folded the paper and stuck it in my pocket. “We’ll do our absolute best.”

  Dr. Haroun managed a wan smile, though I could see how heavily the fate of these souls weighed on her. It must have been torture, watching patients die slowly and not being able to stop it. “Thank you.” She patted my knee, then stood and extended a hand to help me up. “You really need to try and stay off that leg as much as possible. The break isn’t fully healed, and you’re risking further damage.”

  I grimaced at her. “Find me another Resistant and I’ll gladly rest.”

  “Right.” She didn’t say anything else as she led me out of the tent and waved at me before I walked away.

  Zena was sitting on top of a dining table with a notepad on her knee. She looked up as I approached and hopped down. “Deidre.”

  “Why don’t you go back to bed?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not tired. Deidre, the last tank is failing.”

  My heart sunk even further. “What?”

  “I thought it was just a clogged pipe or something, but I’ve cleaned everything and the water’s still not circulating.”

  “How long?”

  She shrugged. “A week, maybe.”

  “Great. That’s just great.”

  The girl frowned at me. “Is that sarcasm?”

  My voice came out harsher than I intended. “Yes, Zena, that’s sarcasm. Or did you really think I was happy our last source of fresh food is failing?”

  Her face fell, and tears glistened in her eyes. “No, I just…”

  Guilt twisted my stomach. “Look, just keep it going as long as you can, okay? Just do the best you can. That’s all any of us can do.” Without waiting to see her reaction, which I knew would just make me feel worse, I walked off toward my tent. I was suddenly desperate for a moment without someone telling me yet another thing that was breaking or falling apart.

  5: A Little Rain

  “I don’t like the look of those clouds.” Sam stepped away from the van’s engine, then pulled the rag from his shoulder and wiped his hands. I followed his gaze to the roiling, dark gray cloudbank in the distance.

  “It’s the middle of winter in the desert; surely it can’t be too bad?” I was sitting with my back against the hubcap of the front passenger side wheel.

  Sam glared at me. “That’s a dangerous thing to say.”

  “Well…” Honey Badger rushed up to me in a cloud of dust and spat a saliva-soaked tennis ball into my lap. I let the sentence trail off as I watched the dog run off after the ball, doubling back on herself when it bounced off the bunker wall. After scrambling around in a circle, she finally caught it and ran back. I repeated the action, chuckling when she snapped at the airborne object and missed.

  After a few minutes, Sam let the van’s hood fall with a bang that made the big black dog yelp and crawl beneath the vehicle. He walked around and slid down to sit next to me with a sigh. Honey Badger stuck her head out and he shook his head at her.

  “We’re gonna start calling you Hidey Badger if you keep this up.” The affection in his voice belied his chiding words. When the dog climbed out and spit the tennis ball at his feet, he threw it into the weeds and after she sped off. He let his head fall back against the van with a sigh.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “I don’t think we can take it out again, Deidre. And none of the other working vehicles have much space. The pickup is done in. Without either taking a mechanic with us or bringing an entire auto parts store home, neither of these things are getting fixed. That leaves us with the two little cars.”

  “So I drive one and you drive one. They’re newer. They should last a while. Plus, they use less fuel. We use them for a couple more weeks until the spores dissipate to the point when people can come out.”

  He rolled his head to the side to meet my eyes. “Do you really think that’s going to happen?”

  “What does that mean?”

  Sam shrugged and drew his knees up until his forearms were resting on them. He stared as his hands as he dug engine grease from beneath his fingernails. “It’s been weeks, Deidre. It’s almost Christmas. The device was disabled before Thanksgiving. Surely, if they were going to dissipate they’d have done it by now.”

  My stomach went cold, and I ignored Honey Badger when she came galloping up to drop the ball at my feet. “You really think they might not go away?”

  “I don’t know. It seemed like things were getting better there for a while. But it’s like nothing has changed in a week or two now. They aren’t able to stay out any longer. What if they don’t go away, Deidre? What do we do then?”

  I wasn’t usually the hopeless one, so his attitude was unsettling. “I...I dunno. I guess we keep them alive through the winter until we can start growing food. We find a way to get the vehicles fixed. We build greenhouses. We dig wells. There have to be options.”

  “Maybe. But making it through the winter’s a big if.”

  “I know.” I reached into my pocket and handed Sam the list Dr. Haroun gave me. “It’s gotten even more iffy for a couple of them.”

  Sam looked at the list, then up at me. “I don’t know what this means.”

  “It means we’ve got a super sick pregnant woman and others with severe health issues, and none one of them are gonna make it without meds.”

  “Great.” After handing the list back to me, Sam heaved himself to his feet and reached down to help me up. “Let’s do this, then. Cars it is.” He cast a glance back at the approaching clouds. “After the storm, though.”

  ***

  Sam’s concerns proved valid when the storm rolled in. We sent Honey Badger inside the bunker to keep her out of the way, and tasked Zena with keeping an eye on her. Then, we pulled the van around to the side of the bunker and drove the cars onto the concrete to work on outfitting them for our next trip. Within minutes, the wind picked up. Fierce gusts threw tumbleweeds and tiny branches at us like missiles, and the sand in the air was moving fast enough to feel like bits of glass on my skin.

  We ducked inside, and I stood on the platform at the top of the ramp, looking out through the little door near the top of the window as the black clouds enveloped the area and reverberating thunder cracked on the heels of li
ghtning bolts.

  A moment later, we both flinched as a furious pounding sounded on the roof. I looked at Sam, fear raising my heartbeat. He mouthed a word I couldn’t hear, but I knew it anyway.

  Hail.

  Even though I knew this bunker was built to withstand the worst the Nevada desert had to offer, I couldn’t help the deep sense of foreboding that curled in the pit of my stomach and refused to leave. A few louder impacts joined the roar, and I glanced over at Sam. His face was pale, but his eyes were present. He looked back at me and grabbed my hand.

  Crash. We both went still as the sound of breaking glass reached us. This sound was immediately followed by screams. After a shared glance, Sam took off down the ramp. I followed behind, moving as quickly as I could with my cane.