It was around the first hint of fall that my dad decided he wanted to take me on a trip. I was excited as all get out, but Mom was worried she might not see either of us again. It took Dad another three days before he convinced her it was going to be all right. We were only going to the wall and back. That was it. Mom was going to stay with Trey’s family so she wouldn’t be alone, and she could keep educating Trey. I hadn’t seen Trey since our little expedition, but Dad said he was fine and was working on a mountain of chores his dad had come up with.
Dad helped me pack a backpack for the trip. I had water, some jerky, and some dried fruits and nuts. I had a change of clothes, some socks, and a small first aid kit. In a small can was some matches, cotton balls, and two small candles. A length of rope finished the kit.
I put on the backpack, then took it off, looking at it critically. Dad caught me looking.
“What is it?” He asked, putting together his own pack.
“I can’t wear my quiver with this on,” I said.
Dad looked at the backpack. “I think we can come up with something.” He took the pack and my quiver and worked on it for a little while. After an hour, he came back with a great solution. My quiver was attached to the right side of my backpack. I put the combination on and tried to get an arrow out. Instead of pulling an arrow out diagonally, I was going to have to pull it out vertically, but it worked out just the same. The arrows were roughly in the same place as they were when I just had the quiver, so it was fine.
“Works well, thanks,” I said.
Dad looked at me critically. “I think you’re missing something,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” He walked off to the stairs to the basement, and I could hear him rummaging around. I couldn’t think of anything I needed, so I just waited.
Dad came back with a small box. It was about a foot long and a couple of inches wide. He gave it to me with a small smile.
I opened it and had to smile myself. Inside was a beautiful knife. The blade was about seven inches long and was attached to a rough-looking white handle. The edge looked extremely sharp, and I knew from experience that it was not a toy.
“I think you’ve earned this,” Dad said, taking the knife out of the box. The sheath was a simple leather affair, and I hurriedly slipped in on my belt. Dad put the knife where it belonged, then took a step back. “You’re growing up, Josh. No denying that. I hope there’s something left of the world for you when your time comes.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, puzzled. I was thrilled with the gift; it was the first present my dad had given me that wasn’t connected to my birthday or Christmas.
“I’ll tell you later. Let’s get ourselves cleaned up and ready for supper. We’ll leave in the morning,” Dad said, ruffling my hair.
“Okay. Thanks, by the way. I love it,” I said, looking down at the knife sticking out of my belt.
Dad smiled. “I did, too, when my dad gave it to me.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, but by the time I had a question, Dad was already headed for supper.
Chapter 13
In the morning, we pulled out a couple bicycles and headed east. Dad wanted to go a little south before we went east, so we zig-zagged our way down farm roads and back country lanes. The fields were full of untended grass and crops, and homes we passed had long been abandoned and looted. Some of the homes we passed were burned out wrecks, and in some cases we could make out the distinct white of bones in the yards. It was such a contrast to the world I knew that I had to ask my dad about it.
“Dad?”
“What’s up, Josh?”
“What was it like during the bad times?”
My dad thought for a minute as we pedaled away the miles. He got a faraway look in his eyes like he was seeing something in the distance that wasn’t really there.
“It wasn’t good, Josh. People were panicking all over. Trippers were everywhere, but they weren’t the real problem. Neighbor turned against neighbor; people were killed for no reason other than they had something the other person thought they needed. Chicago was a war zone with gangs establishing kingdoms in what used to be the better parts of town. The police were so overwhelmed they were useless, and in a couple cases joined with the gangs. We weren’t sure why the disease spread so far so fast. There wasn’t any good information coming out, and people were just going crazy. No one was paying attention to the Trippers, and they eventually took over.”
“How come they didn’t just shoot them all, Dad?” I asked.
“They didn’t have enough bullets, and the police had been spread so thin trying to put down the riots and the gangs that the situation just got out of control. Politicians were trying to score points against each other and blaming each other that no one stepped up lo lead. Eventually, things were just left alone, and we were on our own, every last one of us.”
I couldn’t understand how no one could lead. My education was full of men stepping up to do the right thing, to lead the way, and here my dad was telling me that such men didn’t exist anymore.
I pedaled a bit further, then I had another question.
“Dad?”
“Yes, Josh?”
“Did the rest of the country get overrun with Trippers, too?”
“From what we understood, it was worse everywhere else than it was here. No one knows why. The east coast has a lot more people on it, so I’m sure that played a part. But the south and west should have been able to take care of things. All we knew was suddenly a lot of trucks showed up and started building the wall.”
“What is the wall?” I asked. I’d heard the term before and seen pictures, but I never got the story from anyone. Trey’s dad just shook his head, and mine just spoke about it briefly. I was actually excited to be going to see it.
“It was the government’s last attempt to save civilization. We were the only state that still had a viable population, so they decided to shield us from the rest of the country. Nothing can get us in here. The only threat is our own Trippers, but we seem to be able to handle them.” Dad reached over and tussled my hair, and we both nearly crashed when he temporarily bumped his bike into mine.
We straightened ourselves without injury and kept moving. Down the back road, we passed a group of houses that were set further back from the road than I was used to seeing. There was a huge road down the middle of the houses, and I could see each house had a great big garage attached to it.
“Lot of cars in those houses?” I asked my dad as we cycled past.
“Not cars, buddy. Planes,” Dad said.
“What?”
“In that subdivision, the people there owned their own airplanes and kept them near their houses. When they wanted to go on a trip, they would move them to that big road, and fly away,” Dad said, looking over the homes.
“What happened to all the people who lived there?” I asked. The community was gated and had a sturdy fence all the way around it as far as I could tell. Trippers couldn’t get in if they blocked the main entrance.
“I guess they flew away when the trouble hit. At least they could, not like the rest of us.” Dad got quiet, and we pedaled past the houses without incident.
We reached Manhatten-Monee road and turned left. My dad explained it would take right to the border without going south any further. I didn’t care if it took us to the moon. I was thrilled to have this time to myself with my dad, something I rarely got to do. Another thing I rarely got to do was see my father in action against a Tripper. As I soon saw, today was going to be an exception.
Just past a small group of homes a lone man was walking along the road. His jerky movements told us immediately that something was wrong, and my dad motioned me to slow down and stop. Dad parked his bike without ever taking his eyes of the infected man. The man was smaller than my dad, but wider. He had a shock of yellow hair that stuck out at wild angles, giving his head the look of a sun drawn by a little kid.
Dad slipped his pack off and pulled out his axe. It was mo
re of a camp axe than a fighting axe, but it would serve my dad’s purpose. He had his rifle, but that was more for group work than individual fighting. He waved me off the bike and told me to step back behind the vehicles.
“Get your bow ready, but don’t take a shot unless you absolutely have to,” Dad said.
“Why don’t I just shoot him?” I asked, puzzled.
“Just listen to me. All right, he’s seen us. Here he comes.” Dad stepped away from the bikes and moved slowly along the road.
The Tripper growled and bared his teeth, his hands clenching into fists as he moved forward. His bloodshot eyes nearly glowed with anger, and his blotchy skin seemed to become even more inflamed. He was a normal man, dressed in a long sleeve shirt and jeans, but he was well beyond infected. His mouth was dark from biting, and his neck was scratched and had bled in the past. His hair was wild, sticking out above his ears, giving him a maniacal look. If Trey and I had found this guy, we might have wet our pants before we ran away.
Dad never stopped moving. He stood well away from me and held the axe low and to the side. I realized at that moment that I had never seen my dad kill anything without using bullets.
The Tripper sped up, reaching out with one hand while keeping the other near its chest. The outstretched arm threw its balance off a bit, and its torso swung around and back and forth. If I had to take a shot at that moment, it would have been luck to score a hit.
Suddenly, Dad sprang forward, running three steps towards the Tripper. He jumped up a little, and kicked the Tripper in the hip, knocking him sprawling. Dad didn’t hesitate, stepped up quickly, and buried the head of the small axe into the top of the Tripper’s head. The Tripper’s arms and legs dropped to the ground and lay still. Dad yanked his axe out and plunged it several times into the dirt by the road. He then wiped it on the dead man’s shirt, adding to the streaks already there. Dad pulled the man over to the ditch and tossed him in, removing him from the road.
I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding and released the tension on the bowstring. I waited for my dad to come back over. The whole episode took about a minute, I think.
“Nice job,” I said, as my dad stepped over his bike.
Dad looked at me. “Thanks. Tell me, Josh. What would you have done if it was you?”
I thought a minute. “Do I have the axe?” I asked.
“No, just what you have on you.”
Hmm. A challenge. All right. “Since he’s bigger, I would have probably parked the bike on the road and waited behind it and got my bow ready for when he fell.” I said.
“Why would he fall?” Dad asked.
“Because he would try to walk through the bike and would trip over it.”
“You’d kill him on the ground?”
“Just as dead as I could,” I said, trying to sound tough.
Dad laughed out loud which told me my efforts were wasted. “Good enough, Josh. You’ll do. You used your head before you used your strength. Nice.”
Chapter 14
We rode in silence, and I felt very light headed for some reason. We rode until we reached a small house that stood on a decent sized hill. Dad said we would stop here for a drink and a bite to eat. Also to have a look around, he said, and this was the highest house around.
The driveway was tucked in the front yard with two concrete walls holding back the grass and dirt. The house stood on what looked like a plateau compared to the surrounding land. Dad said the rest of the land used to be higher, but when they put the road in, they cut lower and wound up putting the house up on a hill. I thought that was pretty silly.
I got off my bike and put down the kickstand. I waited for my dad, but he turned his bike around and leaned it against the far wall.
“How come you’re putting your bike like that?” I asked.
Dad shrugged. “In case we have to get out in a hurry. I can grab and go while you’re trying to get your bike turned around and the kickstand up. While they’re killing you, I can make a good getaway.”
I thought about that for half a second, then turned my bike around and leaned it against the same wall. I refused to look at my dad while I did it, but I could just feel his smile on the back of my head.
We approached the house slowly with my dad in front and me off to the side. I had my bow in my hand, but I didn’t have an arrow nocked. Dad had his sidearm belted on, but he kept his hands away from it. Before we went to the house, my dad explained we would have to come up friendly since anyone who might be in the house would have the advantage and get one of us before we had a chance. Dad didn’t think the house was occupied, but it never hurt to be ready.
The brush covered yard was quiet, but I saw out of the corner of my eye a rabbit or two slipping off to safer territory. Dad was about ten feet from the porch when he called out.
“Hello the house!”
Silence.
Dad tried one more time, then stepped up to the porch. The house had a wide porch that covered half the front and the entire west side. The tall windows on the house were still intact, and the upper windows had shutters on them that were closed. The porch had leaves and debris on it, but it looked okay.
The front door was closed, and my dad walked slowly to the windows and looked in, trying to see if anything was inside.
Finally, he shrugged and tried the door. It was locked but loose. Dad pulled out his pocketknife and worked the point into the space between the door and the jam.
“These old locks are pretty simple, Josh. The door is actually open; the only thing the lock does is keep the exterior handle from turning. All you have to do is move the latch out of the way. Use the point of your knife, and push it to the side.” Dad pushed and levered something in the door. “Like so.” He pushed the door, and it swung open without protest.
Huh. I’ll have to remember that one. Handy. “Does it work with all locks?” I asked.
“No, just certain ones. Sometimes if you’re in a hurry, it’s easier to just smash the silly thing in,” Dad said.
We stepped into the house and it was nicely furnished, although somewhat sparse. Dad called out again, but we didn’t receive any reply. We walked through the house, and there was a fine layer of dust all over everything. No one had been here in years; maybe even before the Trippers arrived. I went upstairs and looked around. Two of the rooms were completely empty, and the third, the master bedroom, had a bed without covers, a dresser, and a small dresser near the bed.
I looked in the closet and didn’t see anything, so I went over to the window to look out across the land. Flipping open the curtains, I coughed as the dust flew in my face
“Glad I did that,” I said reproachfully to myself as my eyes watered. The open curtains showed me that I still had to open the shutters, and to do that I needed to open the window. I almost gave up but decided a look was worth it. Cracking the window open, I reached through and pushed on the shutters. Nothing happened. I looked it over and saw there was a latch on the shutters. That made sense. Opening the window further, I flipped the latch and pushed the shutters wide open.
Sunlight poured in through the window, and all the dust in the air sparkled like an indoor snowstorm. I waved my hand through some of the dust, swirling it around, and watching it hover in the air.
Outside, the landscape stretched before me. I could see for miles, and it was fascinating. I had never been this high above the ground before. I could see a highway and a small town off to the east, but not much further than that. I could see several other farmhouses in the distance, and some had big silver buildings that shone brightly.
I turned back, and as I did I looked into the closet again. Up in the corner of the shelf was a small box I hadn’t seen before. I went over and had to reach up as high as I could, but I managed to grab it.
The box was redwood, and was secured with a simple lock on the front. I had no clue where to look for the key, so I just left it alone. The box had more dust on it than everything else, so I figured it had bee
n there for a long time, before even the end times.
I took the box and went back downstairs where I found my dad waiting at the kitchen table. He had broken out some jerked beef, some water, and a few corn biscuits. There were dried apples, too, so we were eating well.
Dad’s eyes found the box immediately. “What do have there?” he asked.
“Don’t know. I found it in a closet upstairs.” I handed it over to my dad, and he took it carefully from me.
“Heavy enough. We’ll take a look in it later after lunch when we stop again.” Dad brushed the dust off the box and found a place in his backpack for it. He resumed his lunch, and I ate mine. We didn’t talk much, and that was okay with me. Sometimes I found it better to be quiet and let other people fill in the silence. I had learned that trick from my dad who usually used it on my mom. That was how he got her to talk instead of just letting her be quiet all the time. I used it on Trey, but he never really needed an excuse to talk.
We finished eating and started for the door. Just before I pulled it open, my dad suddenly grabbed me by my pack and pulled me back.
“Shh!” he said quietly as he stepped back slowly, carefully making no sound.
I looked around but didn’t see any danger. I looked at my dad, but he was slowly pulling me back again, this time carefully to the stairs. We stood at the landing which kept us from being seen from the outside, but it also only gave us a view of the front door. We could see through the small window out towards the porch, but that was it.
“What is it?” I asked quietly, already knowing the answer.
Chapter 15
“Trippers.” Dad said, pulling out his pistol. It was a small black gun that dad called his ‘Glock’, whatever he meant by that. I was familiar with guns through my readings and knew we were in some trouble if Dad got his weapon out. I put an arrow on my string and waited, trying to become part of the furniture.
Outside, I could hear the Trippers as they stomped up the steps to the porch, and they were noisy as they pounded up the wooden stairs. They moved around, but because we couldn’t see them, they had no reason to rush the house since they couldn’t see us either.
Born In The Apocalypse Page 6
