Teenage Survivalist Series [Books 1-3]

by Casey, Julie L.

  Hoping the fire hadn’t weakened the metal too much, we started down the stairs, testing each step while still trying to hurry. About halfway down, we heard pounding on the door to the roof. We paused only a moment, and then continued. We were on the last landing before the final flight, which ended about eight feet off the ground, when the shadow of a man rounded the corner on our side of the building. We froze and prayed that he would not think to look up. We could barely see him, the dim moonlight reflecting off his bald head, as he stopped under the fire escape and turned his face up toward us. I could feel Sara’s muscles tighten, and I feared that the man would hear the sound of my heart beating wildly in my chest.

  Apparently, his eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness yet, having just came out of the now brightly-lit building, because he just squinted for several seconds, then turned and yelled at his gang that nobody was on this side of the building. We didn’t move until we heard the door to the back of the building open and close again. Then we quickly dropped to the ground from the bottom rung, grabbed hands and started running as quietly as we could across the street to the alley between the buildings to the east. We could hear more shouting as the gang exited the back of our building, and I swear I heard them calling for Sara.

  We rushed eastward as fast as we dared, pausing at the corners before darting across the open territory of the streets. We ran for at least ten blocks before we were so out of breath we had to hide in a recessed doorway to rest for a minute. As we caught our breath, Sara looked at me with her huge, haunted eyes, which were clouded by fear as well. I tried to look reassuringly back at her, but I’m not sure I was able to pull it off convincingly. Wordlessly, we continued east until we hit a major boulevard running north and south. I stopped Sara in the middle of a clump of trees, and we silently listened for the sound of someone following us. After several long seconds, I whispered,

  —Which way should we go?

  —South.

  She said it with such conviction that I didn’t think to argue with her. I was curious what she had in mind, though. She started walking briskly south. I had to hurry a little to catch up to her. We stayed at the edge of the trees that lined the side of the boulevard.

  —Why south?

  —Swope Park.

  —Swope Park?

  I’d never been to Swope Park before, except to visit the zoo.

  —Yeah, it has a big woods and a river that runs through it. And the zoo’s there.

  —Why would we want to go to the zoo at a time like this?

  She looked at me like I was a bit slow.

  —Animals… hunting…?

  She smiled slightly when it dawned on me that she was far ahead of me in thinking about survival. If there were any animals left in the zoo by now, that is. At any rate, the idea of hiding in the woods by a river was very appealing to me after being cooped up in the apartment building so much, especially since summer was coming on and we wouldn’t have been able to run the air conditioners in the building.

  We walked for the rest of the night until dawn, probably three hours or so. By the time we made it to Swope Park, we were exhausted. At the first bridge crossing the Blue River, we left the road and scrambled down the steep hill to the riverbanks below. The river was really just a stream, only about ten or twelve feet across. We settled under the bridge, using our gym bags as pillows and fell asleep.

  While I slept, I dreamed that a huge beast was after us. In the darkness of my mind, we ran through the streets of downtown with the monster on our heels. We couldn’t see what it was; we could only see its glowing yellow eyes and hear its roar. Right before I woke up, I dreamed we rounded the corner of a building and there in front of us, strewn on the street under a streetlight were the bodies of Gerald, Janice, and Skinner. The beast was hunched over another body with its back to us. As we stood and stared, horrified, the body under the beast raised its head and looked at us with wounded, accusing eyes. It was Jason.

  I woke with a start, overwhelmed by feelings of guilt and remorse—remorse for treating Jason badly, guilt for leaving him behind to face the gang alone. And what about Janice and Gerald? They’d been kind to us when we needed them. Shouldn’t I have stayed to help them in their time of need? I shook my head and decided that there was nothing I could have done. My first duty was to Sara, and I couldn’t have protected her if I’d gone downstairs to help the others. Nonetheless, the bad feelings stayed with me all day.

  Another thing that stayed with me during the day was the sound of the beast roaring; only now I realized that it was a real beast roaring from the nearby zoo. Sara said it was a lion, and he sounded forlorn and hungry. It scared me, but Sara was excited by the sound. She wanted to sneak into the zoo after we had found something to eat and see if there were any other animals left. I wasn’t too sure about that.

  —What if they eat us?

  —They can’t get out of their pens, silly. Most of them are probably dead anyway. No way to get food for them when so many people are starving and probably no one to take care of them either.

  Sara seemed quite saddened by that thought, but I was glad there wouldn’t be many animals around to try to eat us. I hadn’t been to the zoo since my kindergarten field trip years before, but I remembered big scary beasts like lions, tigers, and polar bears. I wasn’t too keen on meeting up with one of them, particularly since they were undoubtedly hungry.

  Chapter 17

  Swope Park

  Fishing under the bridge was good, so we quickly caught two large catfish. We decided we needed to move upriver, away from the sight of the road, before we made a fire and cooked them. We walked along the railroad tracks that roughly followed the flow of the river. About a half a mile up and around a bend in the river, we came upon an abandoned train on the tracks. We could see and smell wisps of smoke rising above a clump of trees ahead of us. We hesitated, not sure whether the fire-builder would be friendly or not.

  Cautiously, we peeked around a large tree and watched while a dark and wrinkled old man tended to a spit holding some kind of meat suspended over the fire. The body of the animal was freshly skinned and apparently hadn’t been cooking long enough to brown the meat or give off an aroma. Sara and I glanced at each other and somehow agreed to reveal ourselves without uttering a word. As usual, Sara was the first to speak to the man, sounding very courteous and respectful.

  —Good morning, sir. We were wondering if we could share your fire for a bit.

  He eyed us suspiciously and cocked his head to the side.

  —There ain’t enough for more than me. Best you leave me be an’ find your own food.

  —We don’t want to take your food, sir. We have our own. See?

  Sara grabbed my hand and held it and the fish aloft.

  —Well, in that case, sure, you can share my fire.

  The man relaxed and nodded toward the fire.

  —Thank you, sir.

  —What be your names?

  —I’m Sara, and this is Ben.

  —Nice to meet you Sara an’ Ben. You can call me Aaron. Why don’t you pull up a rock there an’ dress your fish. Might be good to find a long green stick to roast ‘em on too.

  Aaron’s voice was deep and musical. In my scarred heart, I felt I could trust this man, even though my brain told me to trust nobody but Sara. Apparently, Sara felt comfortable around him as well, because she smiled and relaxed for the first time in days. She seemed to enjoy the conversation she was having with Aaron.

  —Thanks, Aaron. It’s been awhile since I roasted something over a campfire.

  —Your boy there don’t talk much. Is he mute or just shy?

  I felt the heat of embarrassment warm my cheeks as I realized how rude I’d been. I smiled sheepishly.

  —I can talk. I’m just quiet, I guess.

  —Well, that’s awright, Ben. I can talk enough for the both of us. I’m named after Aaron, Moses’ brother, in the Bible. Ever hear of him? Well, ol’ Moses, he weren’t a very good speaker, so God
told him to speak through his brother Aaron when he needed to tell that ol’ pharaoh in Egypt off. God told Moses what to say an’ Moses told Aaron what God said to say. Kinda like Sara here doin’ the talking for both of you.

  Aaron chuckled at his little joke and turned the spit a quarter turn. While Sara carried on the conversation with Aaron, I set to work dressing the fish and finding long sticks to roast them on. I listened carefully to what they were saying, however.

  —So what are you two doin’ down here on the Little Blue? Don’t you have a home?

  —We did, but we got burned out of them. Both Ben’s and my parents died, and we didn’t want to end up in foster homes. We’re almost seventeen anyway, so we can be emancipated soon.

  —Well now. Emancipation is something I know a little bit about.

  He smiled mysteriously and turned the spit again.

  Just then, the lion roared again, this time long and mournful. It sounded so much closer, even though we had only walked a half a mile or so upriver. I started at the sound, visions of the beast attacking us from the woods next to us in my head, as I commented,

  —Damn, that sounds close.

  Aaron nodded his head sympathetically.

  —His pen is right across the river an’ up that hill. His voice can carry for miles, but we’re less than half a mile away here. He sounds real lonesome, doesn’t he?

  Sara said sadly,

  —I feel sorry for him. Is he all alone now? Didn’t they have, like, five or six lions before?

  —Yep. They’ve all died but the one. Died of exposure or sickness. The last one ate his brothers to survive.

  We all shuddered in horror at the thought of the dire hunger that led him to devour his pride.

  —The keepers tried to keep all the animals alive, but it was a losing battle.

  —The keepers? They stayed while the power was out? Was the zoo even open?

  —No, no, the zoo closed the day of the power failure an’ probly ain’t never gonna open up again. Most of the staff decided they needed to be home with their families, of course, helping them survive. But there are five dedicated keepers, who have no families of their own. These five have stayed all through the crisis. See that building up yonder?

  Aaron pointed a ways up the tracks to a building.

  —That’s where they live now. They tried living in the buildings at the zoo at first, but the stench drove them away.

  —Stench?

  Aaron shook his head and turned away, like he didn’t really want to think about it. It took him a few seconds, but when he answered, his voice was husky and sad.

  —The dead animals.

  We were all silent for a few minutes, during which time, Sara and I began roasting our fish. It didn’t take them long to cook, and we immediately devoured them while Aaron ate his own lunch. Afterwards, we cleaned up the campsite a little. Aaron snapped a green branch covered with leaves off a nearby tree and used it to tamp out the flames of the fire. After it was out, he opened one of the train cars’ sliding doors, grabbed a huge shovel from inside, and carefully scooped up the hot coals from the fire. He laid the coals, still on the shovel, inside the train car. Then he pulled out four large plastic buckets and climbed the ladder attached to the outside of the train car to the roof, setting the buckets on the rooftop. When he saw me looking at him quizzically, he explained his actions.

  —It looks a little dark to the west. It might rain later. Gotta make sure we have the makin’s for a fire later an’ rainwater is always better for drinkin’ than river water.

  I was amazed at his foresight and efficiency. I realized that Aaron would probably be a great source of information if Sara and I were going to survive in the woods for the winter. If he would let us stay with him, that is. Aaron got out some fishing line, a bucket, and a knife. He surprised me with a great display of enthusiasm.

  —Time for fishin’!

  —Why? We just ate.

  —You don’t wait ‘til you’re hungry to find your next meal, son. Besides, if rain’s a-comin’, the fish’ll be a-bitin’.

  —How do you know?

  I didn’t say it like a smart-ass; I was genuinely interested.

  —I been livin’ in the wild for a long time, Ben. Every time before it rains, the fish want to eat as much as they can because the rain muddies up the water so they can’t see the food. After it rains, you may as well not even try to fish.

  —You don’t have a fishing pole?

  —No, I just have this string with my homemade hook. See? You can make a hook out of lots of things.

  Aaron showed me the hook he had made out of a pop can tab. He had cut part of one of the rings off to form the barb. A string was tried to the other ring. When we got down to the river, he pulled what looked like animal guts out of the pail and impaled a small piece on his homemade hook. He offered some to me for my hook.

  —Nothin’ better than entrails for baitin’ catfish!

  We fished for about an hour and caught over a dozen fish, mostly catfish from Aaron’s hook and specialized technique. I didn’t know what in the world we would do with all those fish. Sara and I always ate what we caught almost immediately, but we were still full from our meal an hour before, and I knew the fish wouldn’t stay fresh too long. Aaron knew exactly what to do with them, however.

  After we cleaned and gutted a little over half the fish, Aaron fileted them and cut the meat into long, thin strips; he left the other fish alive on a stringer in the river. After he had prepared the fish strips, he opened the sliding door of another freight car, which had open vents all over the sides of it. In this car was a rack made of tree limbs. Aaron had me gather green sticks for firewood while he and Sara hung the fish on the rack. He made a fire under the rack using the wood I had found and a live coal he had saved from earlier. Then he placed a big tripod, also made of tree limbs, over the rack and covered it with a blanket, like a teepee with an opening at the top for the smoke to escape and room at the bottom to draw in air. It took a while for the fire to catch on since the wood was green and after it did, it smoked a lot, which was exactly what Aaron wanted. He said it would take a couple of days to dry it out enough to be safe to eat without refrigeration.

  Aaron closed the door to the “smokehouse” and went back to the river to retrieve the rest of the fish. The lion roared as if he knew that Aaron had fresh food.

  —Let’s go see what’s happenin’ at the zoo.

  Chapter 18

  City Zoo

  We followed the river another half-mile until we came to a swinging bridge. Sara was excited when she saw it, remembering all the times she and her parents stood on the bridge making it sway back and forth. We scrambled up the steep bank to an opening in the chain link fence at the top. Sara delightedly demonstrated the effect of the bridge while I nervously looked around for possible loose animals. There was a foul stench in the air. I had smelled it a little down below in the river valley, but up here it was much stronger. Aaron saw me wrinkle my nose and shook his head sadly, saying only,

  —The stench of death.

  On our way to the lion’s pen, we passed many empty enclosures. It was sad to think that so many animals had lost their lives because of PF Day. No more depressing, of course, than the loss of human lives, but sad, nonetheless. I hadn’t even thought about the hardships faced by the animals in the zoo. After all, animals don’t need electricity, right? But in captivity, totally dependent on humans to feed them, and dependent on food sources that are shipped in from other places, the loss of power had a devastating effect on them.

  The few animals that were still alive were thin, mirroring the human population. The huge silverback gorilla and one of his mates had made it, but the other five gorillas had not. More than half of the African plains animals, like the zebras, giraffes, rhinoceros, and antelopes were still alive; none of the hippos made it, though. Two cheetahs were still alive, although very skinny, and all the tough little warthogs survived. Sara was afraid to continue to the ch
impanzee enclosure—afraid that the baby chimp that she had loved to watch frolicking with his mother and siblings had died, but Aaron assured her that although some of the others had not made it, the baby was still among the living.

  When we arrived at the lion’s enclosure, he let out a low mournful roar, like he knew we were there to see him. First we entered the viewing room to see him, but it was so hot in there, we came back out to the side of it. Aaron told me to climb up on the top of the small building and after I did, he handed the fish up to me and told me to toss them to the lion.

  Just before I threw them in, the lion’s eyes locked on mine. His intense stare spooked me because it seemed like he was thinking that I was the food being offered to him that day. He crouched like he was ready to leap to the top of the building and make a meal out of me. His eyes had an eager gleam, and his tongue licked his upper lip slowly in anticipation. I hurriedly tossed the fish to him, one by one, but his gaze didn’t leave me until I hastily climbed back down off the roof. By the time I joined Sara and Aaron at the fence overlooking the enclosure, the lion was ripping into the fish like I had never been the object of his desire. However, I couldn’t shake the eerie feeling of being pegged as prey.

  We left the zoo after feeding the lion because the smell of rotting flesh and the sadness of the situation began to overwhelm Sara and me. After returning to the train, Aaron suggested we choose a car to sleep in. He said that there were several other homeless people who came back here at night after foraging for food in the city all day. They chose to sleep in the woods, though. We chose a freight car about halfway down the train that was half-filled with boxes of hardware items—big spools of wire, tools, paint, etc. We decided that it would be advantageous, from a survival standpoint, to search through the boxes to find items that would help us. The car next to that one was filled with boxes that appeared to be from some kind of veterinary supply company because there were boxes of vaccines, antibiotics, medicines, and such. There were even pet supplies in there, and we spent the rest of the afternoon searching through boxes in both cars. We were happy to uncover a box of large flat pet beds in the pet car. We took several out and used them for our beds in the hardware car.