Surrender the Sun: A Post Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller

by A. R. Shaw

  “Who are you?” Carl asked, referring to Bishop.

  Austin answered, “This is my associate, Bishop. He helps me keep things in order.”

  A smile came to Carl’s face. He stretched out his hand to shake Bishop’s. “I know a military man when I see one.”

  Bishop only nodded. The other man with Carl introduced himself as Tom Maloney.

  Both men looked scared, thin to the point of starvation, and lost. Whatever they were about to say, Bishop knew the subject concerned their last hopes.

  Austin tapped a lady passing by who had a young child at her side. “Miss, could you have the kitchen bring some coffee and breakfast for these two gentlemen?”

  She stopped and smiled, and when she did, the child caught Bishop’s attention. The little boy…he was the one who’d been flung into the snow. He could tell by the blue eyes and the fact that half of his little forehead was black and blue from the encounter. Feeling a sort of relief, Bishop took a deep breath. He hadn’t been able to help wondering about the child.

  Bishop returned his attention to the men in front of him, and the surprise on their faces for the simple fare Austin had offered concerned him.

  “Austin,” Carl began. “I’ve made this trip two times before.” He swallowed hard. “My people in Rockford Bay…they’re literally starving to death.” He held his hands out wide. “We don’t have much to offer you, but we were hoping we could work something out.”

  Resisting the questions coming to his mind, Bishop held back. He didn’t want to step into any position that could be handled by another. Austin, in his mind, was the rightful heir of the hotel and the town, and he would back him as long as he did things right.

  “How many people do you have?”

  Carl swallowed again. “We were at twelve hundred before the freeze; we’re now about eight hundred. We’ve had some fighting. We had to take down looters for killing others for their food.” He wiped his forehead. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Common people…killing one another for a sack of flour. It’s the worst of mankind out there.”

  “We’ve seen it too. So eight hundred. I’ll tell you we’ve just gotten things under control here, barely. We have a food shortage here as well. We can’t spare much, but we’ll put together what we can.”

  Bishop watched as Carl began to speak, but then the sheriff couldn’t contain himself and broke down in tears. His companion patted him on the back and said to them, “His wife died yesterday and his daughter is dying too. It’s been really hard.”

  Austin nodded. “I understand,” he said and continued to talk while Carl got a hold of himself. “We’ve had tough times too. Roman basically sponsored town looting, killed many people. Most of the food was brought here to the hotel. Now we’re using our kitchens to feed everyone two meals a day. I wanted to give everything back to the people, but it was an impossible task, so I’ve appointed the staff to make daily meals instead. Those who have nothing to eat can come here. We even have horse-drawn sleds bringing them in from old bus stops.”

  Carl laughed at the statement.

  “We’re back in the pioneer days it seems, and we damn well better figure out how to live through this before it’s too late. How long is this Maunder Minimum supposed to last anyway?”

  Bishop spoke up then, and they weren’t going to like his answer. “This can go on for ten or more years. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but…” He paused and shook his head. “We won’t survive here long term. We’re in an ice age.”

  The two men looked at each other, not trusting or wanting to believe the words. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, all the food you can hunt beyond what we have in our possession will not be enough to survive here. We might as well be at the poles. We can fish the lake for what’s survived the sudden freeze there, and we can grow hydroponics in some of the buildings. We can also hunt the woods to oblivion and it will still not be enough to sustain us. We cannot live here for long; this is a temporary situation. We need to get our heads around that and soon, because we need to find a way to travel before it’s too late.”

  ***

  By the time the men left, their snowmobiles were topped off with fuel and attached with trailers filled with food and medical supplies as well as radio units so that they could communicate better with their neighbors.

  The people of Rockford Bay promised to share hunts when they were well enough to do so, and to attend meetings to make decisions on the inevitable evacuation Bishop alerted them to.

  Again Bishop and Austin watched the men leave through the great windows, more slowly and more burdened by lifesaving supplies than Bishop thought was wise, but he wasn’t going to give Austin a hard time about it. Helping the people in Rockford Bay might pay off in future exchanges. At least he hoped so, because they were going to need it.

  Chapter 48

  Maeve stood gazing out the frosty, sliding glass window, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. With the blue light cascading onto her, highlighting the red in her hair and the crimson shade of her lips, for the first time in a year, she found herself wanting a man’s touch other than her deceased husband’s. At first, she felt guilty for the urge, a betrayal of sorts to Roger’s memory, and shocked at the realization that perhaps she was no longer grieving her dead husband. The sweet memory of Bishop’s kiss kept flashing into her mind and began replacing the pain Roger’s death left in her heart.

  This morning when he touched her hair, she couldn’t help but feel the anticipation of this quiet man kissing her again. Now she had hope, a hope for something she’d never allowed herself in the past. A hope that perhaps someday when he was ready, they might become a family.

  If only life were normal. But then again, chaos was what brought them together. That, and a promise Bishop made with her husband. Somehow, she thought, Roger had made this possible. If he couldn’t be there to protect them, he put in place a man who could, one whom he trusted with his family. So in the end, it was with Roger’s blessing, that she let some of her guilt go and made room to live life with a possibility of love in the future, no matter the dire conditions of the world at hand.

  Sample

  The China Pandemic - Graham’s Resolution

  Some said that China’s intent to develop the H5N1 virus merely came about as an attempt to culture a vaccine, knowing the nation’s dense population would be at catastrophic risk if attacked by such a virus. Others said that China’s motives had always been sinister, and that they had developed a weaponized form of the virus. In the end it didn’t matter what the intentions had been; having tinkered with Pandora’s box, and without safeguards in place, they had unleashed it. And not only on their own people; it spread like wildfire across the globe, exterminating more than six billion souls. The million or so who were still alive were somehow immune, but they were carriers. As for the virus itself, it became known simply as the China Pandemic.

  1 A Fate Worse than Death

  Shivering in the pounding Pacific Northwest rain, Hyun-Ok needed to see for herself what threat the grim man in the distance posed. She’d heard him yelling before, followed by a gunshot blast and then a terrible scream. Having already counted him an unsuitable candidate to offer her the aid she needed, she had to be certain he wasn’t an immediate threat to her and her son.

  With a death grip on the bed of the parked black pickup truck behind which she had taken refuge, Hyun-Ok gasped in horror as the crazed man powered up a small, worn backhoe. He scooped his victim up with the bucket, then spilled him, still alive and screaming, into a massive fire he had kept burning all day in a Dumpster.

  She slinked away, her broken sobs bringing on a coughing fit from her own infected lungs. The agonized screams finally stopped, and Hyun-Ok grieved in silence for the unlucky man’s soul as sparks flew skyward. She must escape this part of town! The grim man, Campos, had posted no trespassing signs, and his actions told her he meant it.

  She was her son’s only hope, and there was little
time left to ensure his future. The disease weakened Hyun-Ok more each day, and she knew she would soon die. She could not leave her five-year-old to fend for himself with the likes of Campos around. Her days of scouting had told her there was only one person left to consider; the search had already taken up too much valuable time and energy, and Bang had to be in caring hands soon.

  The one she was thinking of had one more to bury anyway. She might as well spend what little time she had left with her son.

  Hyun-Ok recovered from her coughing fit as best she could and continued her journey home. She would need to make the trip in silence through the forested night, hidden from the few remaining people. Since coming to the realization that Bang showed no signs of the virus she had been venturing out like this, into the dark, every night.

  One by one those around her had died off as she cared for them, Bang always at her side. Her elderly mother had been the first to go, followed closely by her father. Shortly after that, her husband, though he desperately clung to life, not willing to abandon his wife and son.

  Covered in the sweat of fever, and her words rasping, Hyun-Ok had assured him his son would be fine and urged him into a peaceful beyond. “I will be with you soon, my love,” she’d told him with tears streaming down her face. As weak as she was at the time, the tears had surprised her.

  The endearment, and the true meaning of her words, had sparked something in her dying husband. His eyes darted from Hyun-Ok to Bang, who was standing at the bedside. In brutal agony he drew himself up to gaze at his son’s face. “He must not be left alone and defenseless in this world gone mad!”

  Hyun-Ok tried to comfort her husband with words, pushing him gently back toward the mattress, and she revealed her plan to safeguard their son. Her husband held them both close, praying aloud to an unhearing god that he could draw them with him as he slipped away.

  That was just a week ago, and that night, after Bang drifted off to sleep, Hyun-Ok had gone out canvassing for the few remaining survivors in the neighborhood. Cloaked in black and defying the many dangers, she spied on the others and assessed them based on instinct alone. She estimated six hundred had originally occupied this immediate area in the Seattle suburb of Issaquah, and with only a 2 percent survival rate there should be twelve survivors—now known to be carriers. Of those she had only found seven.

  Tonight she immediately discounted the first person she came across, two streets over, as being too elderly to be the guardian of a child of five. This lady only had a year left in her, if that. Hyun-Ok’s boy needed someone younger to carry him through life, at least into his teens.

  The man she found next made her uncomfortable. She observed him decidedly grieving for his lost family, sitting out in a lawn chair in the night, yelling obscenities. He taunted and waited for the starving dogs, now gone wild, to smell him out. He shot at them, but it seemed to her that he was only trying to provoke an attack. She could sense his massive sorrow and knew his intentions were suicide by mauling if he could manage it. If not, he would likely soon take his own life. Sadly, she suspected that happened a lot with survivors.

  Hyun-Ok crossed the highway unseen and found a scantily clad woman picking apples from a tree in a vacant lot. She knew the woman would attract the wrong kind of attention and wouldn’t be a good choice for her son’s welfare.

  The man she had finally chosen seemed the only one capable of being her son’s guardian. Not only that, but something about him—either the way he carried his tall frame or the thoughtful dignity with which he buried his loved ones—assured Hyun-Ok that the neighbor named Graham would prove himself the best guardian. She knew that she could trust him with her boy. Knowing that as soon as Graham’s father passed away he’d have no more to bury, she could take her boy to him going on her own journey into death. One more day, she thought. But before then, I need to write to him about Bang.

  With a sad smile, she stepped through the maze of parked vehicles, listening attentively to all sounds and alert for any dangers. She glanced back at the glow in the distance one last time. The last remaining obstacle would be to make Graham understand that he needed the boy as much as the boy needed him. She knew that would be the greatest challenge. She had to convince him of that or her son would be doomed.

  2 Digging Graves

  The frail man reached out to his son. Through tears, Graham gently grasped his father’s shaking hands as he lay dying. He knew it was the closest they had ever been.

  Graham reaffirmed that he would go on as they had planned, that he would always keep the rifle beside him. Through drowning coughs his father reminded Graham that taking his own life was not part of God’s plan; it would only ensure a soulless wandering in the afterlife and would prevent him from ever again joining his departed family.

  Having seen the signs so many times before, Graham knew the end was drawing near. He became desperate, knowing that the difference this time would be him standing alone without a soul known to him. His father’s wheezing came in shorter gasps, his eyes drew quiet, and his face sank into itself. Graham went from the desperation of losing his father to praying for mercy and a quicker end; he could take no more of this torment. Just like all the others, one by one, they all died in anguish.

  Graham could not understand why he still lived. He had watched helplessly as his wife Nelly had died, taking their unborn child with her. Then his dear mother left him, followed by his sister and four-year-old niece. And now his father.

  “What will I do without you?” he asked.

  “Do what I have taught you, Graham. Make good decisions along the way, and don’t regret anything. You’ll do fine. Always know that I’m proud of you.”

  Graham wiped spittle from his father’s lips and clutched his hand.

  When death finally came, his father assumed a peaceful demeanor and said for the last time, “I love you, son.”

  Exhausted from the night’s endless vigil, Graham rubbed his face. Tears of frustration, fear, and loss streamed down through his light brown whiskers. He had not shaved since way back when things were normal, and he did not care if he ever shaved again. Food, and even the very air he needed to breathe, had lost all importance. He could only wonder how he could possibly go on without his father’s strength and guidance.

  With his last racking sob, Graham took a deep breath. “Buck up,” his father would have said sternly. And that’s what he decided to do. He was now the father of the clan, and he continued as if there was a family to lead.

  There was only the one last grave, though this one would be the hardest to dig. Such little consolation would have to do at this moment. Everyone he’d ever known was now gone: all of his family, friends, and acquaintances. From the lowliest beggar to the wealthiest tycoon, no class had gone untouched; even the president had died. This was an equal opportunity pandemic; no one could be accused of racism or class warfare.

  With only the blue shadowy morning light peering in on them, Graham reached over to close the blue-veined eyes of the man he loved and admired.

  “Good-bye, Dad,” he whispered, kissing him on the forehead. He wrapped the edges of the white bedsheet slowly around his father’s body; it was a skill he had learned through repetition. Then he left the room, walking lightly so as not to disturb the peace.

  ~ ~ ~

  His father had asked Graham to leave space in the middle of the other four graves in his mother’s prized rhododendron garden. On one side lay his mother and Nelly, and on the other his sister and niece. His father had wanted it that way so he could “safeguard the ladies.” Graham had known that his dad, always the gentleman, would hold out to the very last, until after the ladies had gone.

  In October the soft loamy ground would still shovel easily, though it would freeze soon enough. The autumn rains were often misty, but this morning it rained as if it meant it. The digging would have to wait.

  Graham dreaded this final act almost as much as when he’d buried his beloved Nelly. He slumped down in his father’s l
iving room chair and sobbed uncontrollably. “Where do I go from here?” he yelled, grabbing his water glass and flinging it across the room, where it crashed against the wall.

  But he already had his answer; his father had already made him commit to certain plans. Graham remembered this but asked aloud, “What for?” He continued to sob, frustrated by the lack of answers.

  He left the bedroom, walking to the dining room window to peer out into his mother’s garden. He saw the fading leaves of the rhododendrons, and the memory of their spring flowers made him wish he could somehow share his grief with Nelly.

  After the pandemic had started, he and his wife had fled to his parents’ isolated home from the chaos that had come to Seattle. With Nelly’s teaching job suspended due to futile quarantine efforts and Graham’s job as a math professor gone, it only made sense to get the hell out of their apartment in the city. The decision became final when shots rang out one night, waking him from his sleep and causing him to clutch his pregnant wife securely against him. The next day they learned their neighbors had been murdered for their food supply. Fearing that he and Nelly were next, he packed the car and they left.

  As humanity died off, people turned on one another. Fresh food was at a premium, and even preserved foods were running short. The immune preyed on the living; they desperately searched for dwindling food supplies because the grocery stores were no longer being stocked. To make things worse, counties had implemented quarantine roadblocks in an ill-fated attempt to lock infected populations out, thus making residents prisoners within their own communities.

  Even though Graham had been raised by a Marine Corps father, he staunchly believed in gun control. He blamed easy access to guns for the various school shooting tragedies and railed against the ongoing wars fought abroad. These views had been furthered in the liberal-minded schools and universities he’d attended and subsequently taught in.