In the past three months, Harper hadn’t fired a single shot. The gang thugs she’d killed, she tried to file away as something from a video game. Not people, merely generic ‘bad guys.’ Cliff’s fate hardly awaited her—civilization didn’t exist for her to feel apart from, but she still didn’t want to end up with his mindset, constantly consumed by what she’d had to do. Of course, she hadn’t actively gone into an enemy location and shot people offensively. Every single time she’d killed, that person had been a direct threat to her, or her family, through no fault of her own.
She clung to that semantic point, trying not to feel like a killer.
Life here had been relatively peaceful, and not needing to pull the trigger for a while gave her hope. However, she had been involved in a few physical altercations: two cases where someone started a fight at Earl’s while drunk, and one time an outsider who’d slipped into town decided he wanted the Mossberg and ambushed her, trying to grab it and run. The first bar fight, she hadn’t accomplished much but getting picked up and thrown into a wall, a nuisance the men dismissed with barely any effort. Since then, Cliff had been working with her on jiu-jitsu. Luckily for her, she learned fast or that guy would’ve stolen Dad’s gun.
To avoid having to climb hills or fences and weave twisty roads each morning, she’d gotten into the habit of walking straight down Hilltop Drive to Route 74 and taking it north in a straight line until nearer the former Evergreen Middle School. Soon after leaving the road and going up the tree-covered hill into the residential area around the old golf course, a rustle came from the right. Harper pulled her mind back from thoughts of hand-to-hand training and swiveled to aim at a blur of motion.
Mila Cline jumped out from behind a tree only a few feet away from them.
Madison, Jonathan, and Lorelei all screamed—though Lorelei’s shriek of alarm mutated into giggling.
“Gah!” Harper jerked the shotgun away from being pointed at a child. “Don’t do that!”
“If you shot me, at least the Shadow Man wouldn’t get me.”
Harper blinked.
“You want to die?” asked Madison, stunned.
Mila shook her head. “No. Not really. I just know it’s going to happen and I would rather it not hurt.”
“Why are you hiding next to the road?” stammered Harper, her brain tripping over the concept of a nihilistic nine-year-old.
“Someone was following me and watching me. I think it’s the Shadow Man.”
“Did you see them?” Harper turned about, scanning their surroundings.
“No. That’s why I think it’s him. You can’t see him until he”—Mila pounced on Jonathan from behind, covering his mouth with one hand—“takes you.”
Madison shivered, looking terrified. Jonathan didn’t seem to mind Mila grabbing him.
“Maybe the Shadow Man just wants a hug?” asked Lorelei.
Harper mentally rolled her eyes at the idea of a supernatural shadow person. However, something about Mila’s pleading stare made her fear come off as genuine. A ghost man didn’t seem possible, but that didn’t mean no living threat existed. Whatever had gone wrong in Mila’s head could easily reframe any and all dangers into the Shadow Man. Assuming, of course, she didn’t have legit schizophrenia and see hallucinations.
Now she had two kids claiming someone followed them. Alas, she still didn’t think she could get anywhere taking it to Walter yet. One kid, she hadn’t even spoken to in person, and the other… well, the entire town knew Mila had issues. If Harper had only the word of a child everyone thought of as the ‘creepy girl,’ people would blame it on mental trauma.
At least she tried to hide from it. That’s good. Means she doesn’t want to die.
“You always feel like that,” said Jonathan, taking Mila’s hand. “The Shadow Man isn’t real.”
Mila’s expression gave off resigned pity, as if to say ‘you poor boy, you don’t know the danger you’re in.’ It also seemed far too… serious for a girl her age. Though, she didn’t appear to object to holding hands with him.
Since Harper didn’t see anything out of place or anyone hiding nearby, she resumed ushering the kids along. They exited the trees onto a small loop road and followed it around to the left onto South Hiwan Drive, which went straight to the school. Harper looked around at the houses they passed, a trash can here or there that would never again be collected by guys driving a big truck. A few cars sat in driveways, not one of them having moved in six months. If she ever wound up patrolling this area after school let out, she’d probably see kids riding bikes or playing stickball, street hockey, or whatever in the road.
This is Schrodinger’s reality. The world has simultaneously ended and keeps existing.
They arrived at class a little late, though the teachers didn’t appear to mind. Not like people had working clocks. The school building did, since it sort-of had power. Solar panels had been installed there prior to the war, and Jeanette had gotten them working. Unfortunately, the EMP surge had fried just about every transformer in the area and done quite a number on the battery at the school since it had been hooked up to the town’s electrical grid as part of some power-sharing type arrangement. Any excess energy the school’s panels made used to feed back into the town, and the school could run off municipal power on gloomy days.
The sight of working ceiling lights again mesmerized her. For seventeen years, she’d never thought electric lighting to be at all impressive, merely something that existed everywhere. For the second time in a week, she felt like someone from the 1800s seeing a light bulb for the first time.
Lorelei zoomed over to the youngest group and half climbed onto the desks to see what Mrs. Stevens showed the others. The woman had been the only female adult with the hockey team, mother of one of the cheerleaders who’d gone along as the chaperone for the girls. Prior to the war, she worked as an elementary teacher handling first grade, so she’d fallen right back into her element.
Violet continued working with the largest segment, the nine-to-twelve group. The handful of kids between thirteen and sixteen had Mr. Simon for a primary teacher. Before the war, he’d taught chemistry at the high school.
Madison, Jonathan, and Mila took their seats.
A few of the kids waved at Harper. She waved back, and gave Violet a beckoning look.
Violet approached, eyebrow raised. “What’s up, hon?”
“I don’t want to start a panic, but I gotta say something.” She lowered her voice so the kids wouldn’t eavesdrop. “I heard some of them talking, saying that Emmy told them someone had been watching her. This morning, I found Mila hiding from someone she said had been following her.”
Violet pursed her lips.
“Yeah, I know… but I don’t think it’s all in her head. Again, I’m not saying we need to panic, but if you could keep your ears open and let me know if you hear any of them talking about being watched, followed or whatever? It could be nothing, but I dunno… something just doesn’t feel right.”
“All right. I’ll let you know if any of them say something like that. Now, let me get back to it.”
“Thanks.” Harper smiled, waved again to her siblings, and left.
Worry hounded her as she plodded out the doors and crossed the parking lot in front of the school. Rather than resume a meandering patrol as usual, she headed south along the road they’d walked in on back to the spot of woods where Mila had been hiding.
Once off the paving, she slowed to make herself quiet and held the shotgun up as if stalking a bad guy. If someone was spying on Mila, they saw us leave. They wouldn’t still be around here… unless they’re maybe waiting for her. That girl’s always alone. Maybe I can find a footprint or something?
She tried not to think about what the person would do to Mila, but couldn’t stop hearing that cop years ago saying that while rare, abduction by a stranger tended to be the most dangerous. Why am I assuming the worst? What if it’s Mila’s mom or dad? No, that’s stupid. Her parents wouldn’t
spy on her like that if they were still alive… unless they’re like Tyler and know they’re too dangerous to be with her.
Argh.
A few minutes into her search, the scuff of a shoe on dirt came from beyond the corner of the northernmost house at the end of the loop behind her. Harper whirled, pointing the shotgun in that direction, but no one was there. She froze, listening. The rustle of fabric accompanied a few rapid, soft footsteps.
Harper rushed to the corner of the house, pressed herself flat against the wall, and peered around. Nothing but trees and a field of open grass stood between her and the road back to the school. A few houses further north all appeared calm. No sign of any people appeared anywhere in sight, either normal or malign. She watched the area for a few minutes before feeling confident enough to step around the corner. Clusters of trees offered ample hiding places, thick enough to shadow the ground even in broad daylight. Motionless as a spooked deer, Harper stared at every spot someone might have been able to run to in the few seconds it had taken her to reach the house and peer around it.
Okay, I definitely heard someone. They didn’t just turn into shadows. No. There’s no such thing as ghosts or monsters. I’m just not looking hard enough. Someone really is spying on kids.
Despite seeing nothing, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone watched her… someone who wanted to harm her.
That thought made her clench her grip on the Mossberg tight.
She crept around the field between the houses, poking into tree clusters, examining windows or doors, but still nothing offered definitive proof someone had been there. It took her almost an hour, but she eventually admitted to herself that she wouldn’t find anything. Whoever had been there had evaded her and gone away.
Of course, she might’ve pulled a Mila and hallucinated it.
No. I know what I heard. But… it could’ve been an animal. Or… no. Animals don’t wear clothes. That definitely sounded like the swish of pants.
Frustrated, Harper stormed back onto the road heading south. Other than the near total silence and lack of moving cars or airplanes going overhead, Evergreen looked much like it must have before the war. Most of the parents who lived here would be away at this hour, helping out on the farm or doing whatever jobs they agreed to take on. Her experience with work hadn’t amounted to much more than four months at Wendy’s, a summer working at Starbucks, and a few months at the mall, working as a retail clerk at a teen clothing store. None of the jobs in town came close to any of those things, but it still felt odd to think about people doing work without a paycheck.
In the midst of her trying to imagine what the world had been like living as villagers before the concept of a ‘day job’ happened, Leigh Preston walked into view off Hearth Drive, approaching from the east, her fluffy curls bouncing. The woman had to be ten years older than her, but probably still got carded all the time if she tried to buy beer. She carried her AK47 rather than wore it on its strap, but didn’t appear to be expecting combat.
Harper stopped in the middle of the road to wait for her.
“Hey.” Leigh nodded at the shotgun. “Something up? You look on edge.”
“A bit. One of the kids came up to me and said she thought someone had been hiding and watching her. Came back to check the spot and I thought I heard someone run off, but didn’t see anything. And it really did feel like someone wanted to hurt me, but I couldn’t find anyone.”
“Ack.” Leigh looked around. “That’s not cool. No idea who?”
“Nope. It could’ve just been one of the residents, but why would they hide from me?”
“Sounds like someone’s up to no good.” Leigh hardened her gaze. “I was just about to head back to the field, but if you want me to stick around with you I can.”
Harper gestured with the shotgun at the AK. “Are you expecting trouble, too?”
“Thought I saw an animal track. Tried to follow it, but I didn’t see anything.”
“That lion killed a cow. Do you think it might try to grab a kid? And, I’m sure what I heard was a person. Lions don’t wear clothes.”
“You heard clothes?” Leigh blinked.
“Yeah.” Harper shifted her weight onto her left leg and swung her right one back and forth to make her jeans ‘swoosh.’ “Like that.”
“Oh. Duh. Okay, yeah, that’s scary. I’ll go let Walter know about it.”
“Are you sure? I don’t have any proof and Mila was the kid who told me someone followed her.”
“Oh. Well, that poor girl is in her own little nightmare world, but I don’t think she’d lie about something like that. I’ll let Walter know it came from her. What exactly happened again?”
Harper explained everything she’d heard or been told so far. Leigh shouldered her AK and hurried off to the southwest, heading for the militia HQ.
“Being a cop had to be so much easier when radios worked.” She sighed at the air horn can hanging on her belt, then resumed walking, more vigilant than she’d been in weeks.
If someone truly did prowl around looking for a child to attack, Mila made about as perfect a target as a creep could ask for: usually alone, always staring down at the ground, quiet. No one would even notice anything had happened to her for hours.
That thought led to an equally frightening one—Lorelei. Small for her age, overly friendly, and super trusting. A creep wouldn’t even have to sneak up on her. That girl would run right over and hug him, not even knowing he carried her away to do horrible things.
Worry and anger grew with each step she took down the street. It had been three months since she used up a shotgun shell, but if some guy prowled the town with the intent to harm a child, she’d happily pull the trigger. Her only regret would be if any kid had to witness it. She held the Mossberg tight, more grateful than ever that she’d made the decision to keep it. Sitting around helpless to do anything to protect her siblings as a ‘civilian’ would have totally sucked.
Remembering the proud smile on her father’s face the first time she showed interest in shooting put a lump in her throat. What had once been a piece of sports equipment had become a lifeline, Dad’s last ability to protect his kids—even if she had to use it herself. In some way, it made her feel as though he walked right beside her.
I’m not going to just execute anyone for staring. But so help me, if they do anything more than watching…
10
Squatters
A new worry joined the unease that orbited Harper’s mind after Leigh walked off.
Would Walter or the rest of the militia start thinking of her as too ready to jump to alarm over every little thing? Two kids had reported someone following them, and Harper, too, had a strong sense that a hidden person had been close by, watching her with malicious intentions. She didn’t exactly hear one little rumor and flip out. No, she’d much rather risk being thought of as a skittish ‘child’ than stay quiet and potentially allow a child to be hurt.
It’s not like I’m taking Mila’s shadow man seriously. I don’t think it’s a real ghost. First Emmy, now Mila. Talking to Lorelei and telling her to be wary of people she didn’t know probably wouldn’t work. Tegan might not have been a psychiatrist, but her suggestion of ‘attachment disorder’ fit the girl’s behavior enough to where Harper accepted her adopted sister had some legit mental problems. One couldn’t simply tell a depressed person to cheer up. That worked about as well as telling an amputee to ‘just grow a new hand.’ Likewise, she couldn’t simply tell the princess of cling to distrust people.
As soon as they got home that afternoon, Harper would pull Jonathan and Madison aside and warn them to help keep tabs on Lorelei. Having three people on high alert, even if two hadn’t yet turned eleven, beat one shell-shocked teen who didn’t trust herself not to screw up.
Yeah. We all have mental damage. She half chuckled. Guess that was true even before.
Mom and Dad pushed them both to succeed, though nowhere near as hard as Grace’s parents. Hearing that they’d s
creamed at her for getting even an A- in a class sounded psychotic. It almost seemed kinder for her new friend to be orphaned. As soon as that thought crossed her mind, she cringed with guilt.
Today, Harper hoped to find evidence of the mysterious ‘watcher.’ Rather than wander the roads in her usual patrol path, she cut across backyards, fields, and the mini-forests interspersed among the houses. Leigh had been reassigned to the secondary farm on the old golf course, mostly in an attempt to mitigate people tromping around in search of vegetables to swipe before Liz Trujillo could assign food out. Nothing had matured enough to produce food yet, and they didn’t want anyone destroying the plants.
Roughly two hours after she’d dropped the kids at school, a man’s angry shouting came from the woods ahead. The distance blurred most of what he said other than F-bombs and threats of shooting someone. All the yelling came from a large, beige house near the eastern edge of the residential area surrounding the old golf course.
Harper pulled the air horn can out of its holder, cringed, and sounded a long ‘911’ blast, then grabbed the Mossberg in a two-handed grip, charging toward the house from the back, following the path of a huge wooden privacy fence around the right side.
“The hell on earth was that?” shouted the same, angry man.
“Easy, man. Relax,” said another guy.
“You’re in my goddamned house. I have every right to shoot you where you stand.”
The World That Remains (Evergreen Book 2) Page 10
