A. R. Shaw's Apocalyptic Sampler: Stories of hope when humanity is at its worst

by A. R. Shaw

  Sloane tried not to show her disdain for the man in front of her. The way he referred to her made her skin crawl. If anything, she was amused by his scare tactics, though she suspected humiliating a man with an ego as inflated as his would make him a raving lunatic. Instead, she did her best to feign concern and genially asked, “But if everything is going to be recovered soon, why can’t we stay here until then? Just send someone to check on us every now and then, if that works.”

  His smile suddenly dropped. “That’s not the way it works, Miss. How many are in your group?”

  She stopped and thought to herself. “There’s only nine adults here, and we’re doing just fine by ourselves.”

  “Well ma’am I hope you can understand the need for your safety.” He swept his arm around. “It doesn’t need to be this hard to survive. We have all your needs taken care of at the camp. And we can’t risk sending soldiers out here just to check on the nine of you.

  “I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter. This is an order. Be willing to leave in three days. Pack all of your resources to take along and I’ll send two trucks to help you pack.”

  She watched as his gaze lingered over a few of the dogs roaming freely around. She knew her best dog, Ace, was watching them closely. He wouldn’t attack unless she gave the command. The Sergeant began looking a little wary of her trustworthy canines.

  “I’m afraid the strays will have to be put down. We have enough abandoned dogs there. They’re nothing more than a menace anyway, spreading disease and stealing resources.”

  Sloane didn’t trust anyone that her dogs growled at. They had great taste in the human species. She scanned the paper order and nodded. “Three days?”

  “Yes, is that a problem?”

  She smiled again, a compliant smile this time, without a hint of deception; she’d practiced this one. “Of course. It will be a relief to us, actually. Thank you. We were becoming a little concerned about the winter weather.”

  She didn’t like the man as soon as she’d laid eyes on him, but what he did next really cinched her lame opinion of him. He patted her on the shoulder like a good little girl.

  “No worries, ma’am. I commend you on lasting as long as you have. We’ll see you in three days.”

  Then he turned and left. She actually summoned the strength and waved at them as they departed, and then looked down at the rifle that was in plain view at her feet, before she’d dumped the spent tomato vines on top of it. She shook her head. Don’t do it. The thought of just shooting all three of them with their guard down briefly flashed through her mind, but the moment passed. Three days…this changes everything.

  22

  An Attack

  Now, squatting in the cold attic of what used to be her home as two soldiers cleaned out all of their food stores that they found while Sloane stayed patiently where she was, her warm breath freezing out before her in little clouds, she thought, I’ve been so gullible. He meant to hit us earlier all along. I should have guessed. That was most likely staged. I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming. I thought we at least had two days to get ready. I’m such an idiot. I can’t let them take us.

  And then soon, military truck tires squealed as they gained traction on the icy road. They were gone and the muscles in Sloane’s thighs ached in pain and her feet were so cold they were numb. Yet, she waited and listened for a time longer to the silence and continued to mutely damn herself for overlooking the dangers before. In her crouched position, she finally turned her head toward the light and knelt farther down to her knees, sliding along her shins toward the opening. She peered outside, not trusting that they didn’t leave a watcher to catch them as they came out of hiding.

  Looping the canvas backpack of supplies over her shoulder, Sloane slid first one foot and then the other through the opening and stayed on alert while she rotated her ankles around until she felt the blood moving through them once again.

  Confident that the girls were safe where they were for now, Sloane opted to climb down and check out what might have happened to her K-9 crew. She was afraid of what she might find and thought it best to discover the situation without the girls present. The silence was deafening and not having at least Sally the poodle yipping was a daunting sign. Something was very wrong.

  Once she was down on the ground, her frozen feet stung with pain as she took each step on the crunchy frozen lawn. Sloane quickly and cautiously circled around to the back entrance of their home and found the back door unlocked and opened more than a few inches. The odd smell hit her again and made her cough. What she saw inside, when she flashed her light beam around, made her sick. Not only were their supplies missing, but they also destroyed everything else that was left. Sloane took a step and stifled a scream from a sharp pain in her foot after having stepped on a large shard of broken glass.

  She had to set her bag of supplies down to flash the light beam onto her foot. Blood streamed downward to the rice and dried beans strewn across the floor and as she reached for the glass piece, she realized it was imbedded deeply into the underside of her foot. “Ugh, that’s just great.” She pulled it out quickly and reached for the opened door that contained several dishtowels hanging out haphazardly.

  “I’m such an idiot,” she whispered to herself. It was one of those moments when all the hard work meant nothing and defeat meant everything. “Keep it together, girl,” she told herself and took a deep breath. She couldn’t afford the self-doubt now and wrapped her bleeding foot in the towel and applied pressure to the open wound. While she held still, she looked around and saw straight out the opened front door. Dry goods littered the entire way. “They certainly didn’t give a darn about wasting anything.”

  Finally, she remembered just behind the kitchen door there was a pair of green Hunter rubber boots. They used to be a fashion statement; now they were a necessity. She kept the towel wrapped around her foot and shoved her feet into them. That was as good as she could do for now. She had other priorities underway and after clearing her lungs with the outside air, she wrapped another dishtowel over her mouth. After making her way through the kitchen and then the living room, she felt fairly sure there were no other intruders inside the house nor was there any sound from Sally. Sloane turned around toward the kennel where Sally slept at night. She peered into the crate, seeing only her curly white fur as she lay on her side.

  She detected no gunshot wounds; no blood remained to indicate injury. Taking a few more steps, Sloane knelt down and opened the kennel. She felt for the dog’s pulse at her neck and it was gone utterly, along with the life she once held.

  “Oh no!” Sloane stood up and turned toward the door. She’d dropped the makeshift mask and ran.

  Her steps slid after she ran around to the side yard of the house and nearly fell down the dewy grass incline. When she reached the girls’ hideout, she was almost too afraid to know. She pounded three times with her fist in the cadence they’d planned and she waited in bitter agony. “Oh God, please no.”

  When met with only silence, again she beat the side of the steel door frame. “Wren! Open the door! Mae! Nicole! Please open the door, it’s Mom!”

  Nothing.

  An eternity passed and she pounded again and begged for the door to open or a sign of some kind. Then movement from up the small incline caught her attention. She drew her gun before she realized and found herself aiming at Ace.

  “Hi boy! Come here,” she called and he did but swayed on all fours. When he reached her, he collapsed and licked her hands sleepily. She felt all over him and there were no injuries to find. Then suddenly the metal door latch creaked open weakly. Sloane shoved it open the rest of the way and grabbed the first hand she saw. She found herself screaming at the sight within the safety chamber, “Oh my God, no!”

  23

  Resolve

  As the first rays of dawn approached gleaming through the dark pines, Sloane found herself digging graves once again. The weather at first threatened to freeze her solid and
now sweat dripped from her nose and mixed with dirt nearly too frozen to move with a shovel.

  If she had to admit it, she cried too. Her arms ached as she reached down and lifted yet another shovel full of dirt and added it to the pile on the side. The hole was finally deep and wide enough and she wiped her face on her worn shirt sleeve. She couldn’t remove the images from earlier. She’d reached inside and pulled Wren nearly unconscious from the gas that must have seeped and settled into the chamber from above. She’d coughed and hacked. Her eyes were swollen and then the other two girls—her younger daughter, Mae and her adopted daughter, Nicole—were motionless inside. “No!” Sloane leaped inside and pulled them both out of the gas-filled room. Neither breathed. It was torture to decide which one of them to perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on first. It might already be too late.

  She’d listened for each heartbeat and began, hoping she’d made the right decision. Then she switched to the other and, in time, they’d both began to breathe.

  “Mom!” Mae finally choked out when she was able.

  Sloane cried—they all did—knowing that she’d nearly lost both girls, had she discovered them a few minutes later. She made them each breathe deeply despite the cold air burning their lungs. And instead of moving them inside the toxin-filled house, she put them into the neighbor’s useless SUV to regain their strength and stuffed several warm blankets and pillows inside. Wren was weak but at least willed herself to open the door when her mother pounded.

  “I’m sorry Mom, I didn’t know what to do,” Wren cried to her.

  “It’s okay, dove,” Sloane assured her. “We made it. There're no easy answers now. Only the best one you can make at the time.”

  She’d patted and kissed her forehead before leaving them in the truck, along with Ace, who was slowly coming out of his brush with the gas as well.

  She didn’t tell them about Sally, nor what she was about to do. Instead, she went to each house containing her canine friends and found them all in still death. What she also found in each home was a canister of some kind of toxic gas.

  Fury built in increasing volume with each discovery. In the end, it was only Ace that somehow made it out.

  She’d spent the rest of the day checking on the girls and digging graves in intervals while she carted the bodies to the burial spot in the woods. Once the hole was big enough, she laid them out together, side by side, each with the buddy they liked the best. Her arms ached more than they ever did before, but she tossed in the dirt over each of them, thanking them for everything they’d done for her and the girls and hoping they went to a better life together.

  Sloane went back to the truck and found the girls all awake as Wren gave them water to sip through their sore throats.

  “Can we go inside now, Mom?” Mae asked shivering.

  Sloane smiled at her girl and brushed her cheek with the back of her dirty hand, so thankful they were alive and yet so sad for what she was about to tell them.

  “No, sweetheart. We can’t. Listen,” she said, “we have to make some big changes now. We can’t stay here any longer. It’s not safe.”

  “Where are we going?” Nicole asked.

  Sloane took a deep breath. “First, I have to tell you something.” The tears had already begun to flow despite her best intentions. “Like the gas you girls experienced in the chamber? All of the dogs were also gassed. Including Ace here, but he managed to get out of the house in time. The others…died.”

  She wasn’t sure who broke down first but the only voice she heard was Wren’s asking in dismay, “All of them?” And Sloane could only nod, too overcome to explain further.

  She wiped away the tears, knowing they didn’t have time for this. “We can’t stay here. They know we’re here. They’ll come for us again. We have to leave now.”

  “Where are we going to go?” Wren nearly yelled.

  Sloane didn’t answer. “Where, Mom?” Wren yelled at her again, and this time the statement was more of a challenge.

  “I don’t know yet. I don’t have all the answers, Wren, but we can’t do this now. I know you’re angry. And believe me, I’m angry too, but this was not my fault.”

  In return, Sloane received a hateful, hurt look from her daughter.

  Sloane grabbed her daughter’s hand. “We can’t do this now. I almost wish we could. I wish things were that normal. They’re not. I need your help now. Do you understand?” Sloane’s eyes implored her daughter to get her meaning, to realize their very survival meant they must work together.

  Wren’s shoulders sagged finally and she began to cry while nodding her head. Sloane hated to see her girls unhappy, but she hoped this meant they at least were in a truce for the time being.

  Sloane hugged her teenager, so like her father, and rubbed her back. “We have to get some things together. Can you help me?”

  “Yes,” Wren said and wiped her eyes.

  “That’s my girl. Let’s buck up. We can’t let them defeat us.”

  24

  Gearing Up

  After leaving Wren watching the younger girls, she quickly went through the ruined house and yanked out all the supplies left useful to them. Over time, she’d collected things from the other homes, like wagons, wheelbarrows and other useful items, and used them often to transport supplies from one end of the neighborhood to the other like a train. It wasn’t a perfect method but it worked and kept them from breaking their backs with all the manual labor one woman and three girls could manage. Nicole had even devised a way to have the dogs pull the wagons, but now those days were, sadly, over. At least, Sloane thought, we still have Ace.

  She cleaned herself up and changed out of her ruined flannel pajamas and into rugged gear, knowing the girls would need to do the same. She packed several layers of clothing and began hauling items out to the wagons and then went back to get the girls inside to dress for the day.

  “Where are we going, Mom?” Mae asked as she ushered her inside the torn house. “What happened in here?” Mae’s voice rose a decibel when she saw the devastation inside the house.

  “Why did they do this?” Nicole asked.

  Sloane let them take in the scene of destruction, of all their hard work. Senseless was the only way to describe it. “C’est la vie. It doesn’t matter why, girls. It’s done. Quickly, get cleaned up and changed. It’s going to be a long night.”

  As the younger girls were doing as they were told, Ace remained by the open doorway and waited with Wren.

  “Why did they do this, Mom?”

  Sloane shook her head. “Control…they’re trying to force us to their camp.”

  “Why don’t we just go there then? It sounds like it would be better than this.”

  Turning to her daughter, Sloane said, “That’s just it, dear. That’s the way they make it sound so that you’ll go along. Give up all of your rights and soon you’re not a refugee, you’re a prisoner and at their will and whim. No, I’m not submitting my children to that as long as I can help it. That’s not survival, Wren, that’s submission. Promise me you’ll never give in.”

  Wren only nodded.

  “Good girl. Tonight, we’re staying at the house near the entrance to the neighborhood, Old Mr. and Mrs. Bishop’s house. Then in the morning, we’re leaving through the forest.”

  “It’s cold at night, Mom.”

  “I know. We’ve started fires. We have tents. We’ll keep moving until we find somewhere safe to go.” One glance at her daughter told her she was terrified by the idea.

  “We’re no better off than those people who travel through here, are we?”

  Sloane thought about her daughter’s words then shook her head, “No dear, we’re not; we never have been and we’re in even more danger than that. But look at me, Wren, be brave in this world above all else. You must be brave.”

  She nodded and then Sloane led her girls, each with a filled backpack and pulling a wagon apiece, as they walked through the neighborhood until they reached the Bishops’ house t
hat backed up to the graveyard behind their house. Beyond the graveyard awaited the dark, cold, desiccating woods and the unknown.

  25

  Memories

  Dark descended early that night. Every creep and sound made them jump. Even Ace was startled by more noises than usual. With only lantern light, they sat on sleeping bags on the den floor of what used to be a very nice home, but was now only a bleak reminder of what remained from better days.

  “Mom, it’s freezing in here. Can we light a fire in the fireplace?”

  Sloane shook her head. “Too risky. We can’t. They might be watching us. We can’t take the chance of putting off a heat signal.”

  “You think they’re watching us?” Nicole asked.

  She nodded. “Yes, they were watching us before and they knew which house we were staying in and knew there were only four of us.”

  “So we didn’t trick them this time?” Mae asked.

  Sloane smiled. “No sweetheart, we didn’t.” Then Mae coughed and Nicole followed suit. Sloane was concerned what damage the gas had on their respiratory systems. She was afraid they would have a lingering effect for days if not weeks, and if they were to catch a cold in the conditions she was forcing them into, it would further weaken their immune systems in time. “You two need to drink more water and catch some sleep, okay. We’re getting up early in the morning to start on our journey.” She opened Nicole’s sleeping bag and helped her snuggle down.

  “Sloane,” Nicole whispered in a voice meek enough for the other two girls not to hear her, “is it okay that I’m…coming with you?”