by Harley Tate
Brianna held up a blood-covered handgun. Large, with what appeared to be metal insets and scrollwork, the gun had to cost a small fortune. “He made a point of carrying a show piece.” Brianna shook her head. “Lot of good it did him.”
“Maybe that’s all it was. He might not have even known how to shoot it.”
Brianna nodded. “You’re probably right.” She ejected the magazine and checked the chamber with a snort. “He didn’t even have a round in the chamber.” Brianna shook her head. “We’re barely two days into this thing, whatever it is, and these idiots get themselves shot.”
“Your point?”
“How many more are going to be just like them? How many people are going to totally lose their minds and get themselves killed?”
“More than we can count.” Madison reached out and rubbed Brianna’s shoulder. “Come on, we should go.”
Brianna nodded. “Thanks for coming with me.”
Madison smiled. “Thanks for driving.”
“Dude. They’ve got Ho Hos!”
Both girls rolled their eyes and laughed. Leave it to Tucker to break the tension. They might be standing over a dead body holding guns and priceless maps, but Tucker still cracked them up.
“Let’s go, Ho Ho man. We’re done.”
“Aw, come on. There’s so much stuff here…”
“Now, Tucker.”
“Fine.” He emerged from the aisle, arms laden with a million bags, each one stuffed to the brim with cookies and chips and sodas. “I can’t carry any more anyway.”
Madison laughed to herself and followed Brianna and Tucker out of the store. The sunlight almost blinded her. “Hold on! We need one more thing.” She rushed back in and grabbed the first four sunglasses on the rack by the door.
“Eye protection.” She handed them out as all four college friends walked toward the Jeep.
Peyton popped on a reflective pair of aviators. “How do I look?”
“Very Judgment Day.”
He grinned. “How was the store?”
“Be glad you missed it.”
He nodded as they stopped outside the car. Tucker piled his bags into the already overloaded back while Peyton and Madison climbed in the back seat.
Once they all made it inside, Brianna turned on the engine. “All right. Where to now?”
Madison grinned as she unfolded a map of the greater Sacramento area. “Home. Now we’re going home.”
Brianna backed out of the space and eased up to the street. “Which way?”
“Just a second.” Madison found their location on the map and her parents’ house. They were still over twenty miles away. They’d have never made it home by dark without a map. She exhaled with relief and gratitude. Sometimes the worst situations turned out to be the best.
She pointed out the window. “Take a left at the light.”
Brianna pulled out onto the street. In an hour, they’d be home. Madison hoped she’d find everything she needed, including her parents, safe and sound.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
TRACY
Sacramento, CA
10:30 a.m.
“I take it you didn’t leave it like this.”
Wanda shook her head, tears welling in her eyes as she surveyed the destruction. “No.”
A coffee table stood on its side in the living room; magazines that once perched on top now littered the floor. Drawers from a corner desk lay about like lazy cats on the rug in front of the window, catching the morning sun. Every single kitchen cabinet door hung open, shelves mucked about and contents ransacked.
It looked like a scene from a movie, the one right before the bad guy rushed out from the bedroom and did the homeowner in. Tracy crept down the hall. Please have no one be here. Please.
She nudged open a door with her hiking boot. Bathroom, empty. On down the hall she went. Checking in every closet before the last door. With a deep breath, she turned the handle and pushed it open. Thank God.
Wanda’s bedroom sat empty and relatively undisturbed. Whomever tossed the place either ran out of time or figured she didn’t have anything worth stealing in there. With a bed covered in a pink fluffy comforter and a wall of bookcases stuffed to the gills with books, Tracy was surprised.
Guess the thief wasn’t a reader.
She made her way back out to the main rooms and found Wanda crouched on the floor in the living room, holding two pieces of a figurine. Tears streaked her cheeks. “My mother gave this to me for my sixteenth birthday.” She snuffed back snot and held up the two pieces, fitting them together as best she could. A ballerina with a broken leg. “When I was young, I wanted to be a dancer.”
Tracy knelt beside her. “I’m sorry.” She rubbed the older woman’s back, trying to comfort her. Tracy didn’t know what to do. She needed to get home, quickly. Every minute she stayed with Wanda meant another minute her home sat unprotected.
What if Madison made it home and she wasn’t there? Or Walter showed up and feared the worst?
Part of her wanted to leave Wanda to fend for herself. But how could she leave her here in the midst of all this destruction?
Tracy stood up and walked over to the sliding door. It stood open about an inch without any kind of backstop. Anyone could hop the railing to Wanda’s patio and walk on in. Wanda couldn’t have been that reckless. Could she?
“Did you leave your sliding door open?”
Wanda wiped at an eye and sniffed back another wave of tears. “I always leave it open a crack. It lets the air in.”
Tracy closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Lashing out in anger wasn’t her style, but even she could be driven to the breaking point. “You can’t just leave your doors and windows unlocked. Anyone could have just come on in and helped themselves.”
“But this is a gated community.”
“Not anymore.”
Wanda stood up, cradling the figurine in her hands. “We have a security guard who drives around on a golf cart. Everyone talks about how safe they feel here. I’ve never had to worry. I just don’t understand why a person would do this.”
Something inside Tracy snapped. She’d tried for the past twenty-four hours to treat Wanda with kid gloves, to ease her into the new reality they faced. But screw it. The woman needed to face reality, or best-case scenario, she’d be dead soon. Worst case, she’d bring Tracy along for the ride.
Tracy dropped her hand. “When are you going to wake up? The world has changed, Wanda. It’s not like it was before. It never will be.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Look around you! You think this is a one-time thing? Everyone has to fend for themselves. Protect themselves. There won’t be any aid. The government won’t be swooping in here with food and water and the power company.”
“Yes, they will. It might take a few days, but the power always comes back on.”
Tracy stalked up to Wanda, ready to shake some sense into her. “The grid can’t come back from a CME. The type of EMP it released fried the grid. We don’t have the means to bring it back. I explained all of this already.”
Wanda sniffed. “I thought you were being dramatic.”
Tracy palmed her hips and stayed silent, not trusting herself to speak. Anger and frustration filled her. Anger at the woman standing in front of her, the inability of her fellow citizens to prepare or even grasp something like this might happen, at her government for failing to appreciate the risks.
There were so many people she could direct all those pent-up emotions toward, but it wouldn’t do any good. She’d be shouting in a padded room. No one could help her now but herself.
Wanda set the broken ballerina on her fireplace mantel and wiped her palms down the front of her dress. “I’m sorry I haven’t been much help since you picked me up.”
Tracy exhaled and managed a nod.
“I guess I thought…” She paused and looked around her. “If I ignored everything you said, then it couldn’t be real. I’d get back here and it wo
uld be just like I left it. The power would be on, the water would be running, and I could go back to my life.” She tucked a flyaway bit of hair behind her ear. “Silly, huh?”
Tracy’s anger dissipated like helium out of a leaky balloon. “Infuriating, actually.”
Wanda cracked a smile. “I’m sorry, Tracy.”
“It’s okay.” Tracy ran her tongue across her lips before continuing. “Look, Wanda. I know this is all hard for you to accept.”
“I’m beginning to.”
“That’s good. But it takes more than that.”
“What are you saying?”
Tracy perched on the edge of the couch arm and motioned at the destruction all around them. “This is the world now. It’s only going to get worse.” She paused, trying to gauge Wanda’s reaction. “Are you going to do what it takes to survive or not?”
Wanda’s brows knit together. “Like what?”
“Learn skills, persevere when things get tough, not let setbacks do you in.”
“You mean like this?”
“Mm-hmm. But that’s just the start. If this is the new normal, we can’t depend on anyone for anything. No stores, no police, no trash pickup.” Tracy leaned in. “No hospitals, no gas stations, no electric company. Just us and our skills.”
Wanda wiped at her face, drying her tears and rubbing some color back in her cheeks. “Okay. I get it.”
“Good.” Tracy stood up. “Get dressed into something more practical. I’ll start collecting anything we can use.”
Wanda blinked. “What are you saying?”
Tracy didn’t hesitate. “I’m taking you back home. You can stay with me.”
The hug caught Tracy off guard. Wanda wrapped her thick arms around her, squeezing until Tracy almost squeaked. Her sweater muffled Wanda’s voice, but Tracy heard her anyway. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t seen me waiting for the bus.” Wanda gave her another squeeze before pulling back.
Tracy appreciated the gesture, but words didn’t mean as much as action. Not now, anyway. “Don’t thank me yet. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
Wanda nodded. “I know. I’ll do my share.”
I hope so. Tracy flashed her a tight smile. “Is it okay if I start in the kitchen?”
“Of course. I’ll change and see what I can find in the bedroom. Anything you think we might need, please take it.”
“Will do.” Tracy waited until Wanda disappeared down the hall before turning around. She didn’t know if the woman could deliver on her promises, but it was a start. Offering whatever supplies she had on hand meant something, too. Her kitchen might not have much, but there had to be a few things they could use.
Tracy opened cabinets and peered past plates and cups. She yanked open drawers and rifled through silverware and baking supplies. Wanda didn’t have much in the way of end-of-the-world preparedness. A roll of duct tape shoved in the back of the junk drawer and a pack of AA batteries would come in handy. Tracy set them on the counter.
The flashlight and fire extinguisher under the sink, along with most of the cleaning supplies, could be useful. She added them to the pile before opening the cabinet above the sink. Vitamins and medicine. Tracy didn’t bother to read the labels, opting instead to scoop everything up in her arms and dump them in an empty recycling container she’d found under the sink.
She opened the next cabinet. The pantry. All the food that wasn’t already rotten would come with them. Crackers and chips and cereal would only last so long, but food was food. She piled it all on top of the vitamins before reaching for the stool tucked in the corner.
Tracy stepped on top of it and almost let out a whoop when she saw what sat on the second shelf. An almost-full case of Slim Fast in cans. Dieting had never been her thing. Tracy preferred to sweat off her calories with a good run or a lifting session at her gym. But Slim Fast was intended as meal replacement. It could get them through hard times.
She tugged the partially wrapped case off the shelf and climbed down before setting it on the counter.
“I’ve never been very good at sticking to a diet. Those things taste like chalk.”
Tracy spun around and gawked. The woman standing in front of her barely looked like the Wanda she knew. Instead of a flowy skirt and loose hair, Wanda had changed into hiking gear: jeans, boots, and a T-shirt. With her graying hair in a braid she looked like a plump Jane Goodall, ready to set off for a trek through the misty mountains.
“Wow, Wanda, I didn’t think…”
She shrugged when Tracy ran out of words. “I took up hiking a few years ago. A bunch of us old gals get together once a month and do a day hike in the area.”
“Great.” Tracy motioned at the things she’d piled on the counter. “I’ve pulled just about everything out of the kitchen we can use.”
Wanda nodded. “I packed a bag of clothes and grabbed some wool blankets I had in the closet. There’s a suitcase full of toiletries by the bathroom door, too.”
Tracy marveled. An hour ago she’d never thought Wanda would be capable of getting anything together, let alone actually helping. Maybe the woman wasn’t a lost cause.
“And there’s this.” Wanda set her bag down and pulled out a zippered pouch. She opened it and held it out to Tracy.
A revolver sat inside, along with a handful of bullets. Tracy blinked. Wanda owned a gun?
“It was my father’s. When he died, I kept it. But I don’t know the first thing about guns.” She puffed up her cheeks as she thought. “I don’t think it’s been fired in thirty years.”
Tracy reached out. “May I?”
Wanda nodded and Tracy picked up the revolver, squinting to read the engraving on the side. COLT. D.A. 45. UNITED STATES PROPERTY. The bottom of the grip had another inscription, U.S. ARMY MODEL 1917. Tracy glanced up. “Was your father in the war?”
Wanda nodded. “He enlisted in ’41 when he was only 17. Lied a bit about his age to get in.”
Tracy nodded. She didn’t know much about World War II history, but a gun was a gun. “I’m surprised they issued him a revolver. Seems like by then it would have been all rifles and semi-automatic pistols.”
Wanda’s brows pinched together. “I want to say he traded for it, but I don’t remember the details. My dad never liked talking about the war. Every time I’d ask, he’d change the topic.”
Tracy nodded. Her uncle had been the same way. “Do you have any more ammunition?”
Wanda shook her head.
Tracy picked up one of the rounds and rolled it in her fingers. Six wasn’t a lot, but it was better than none. She zipped the case back up and handed it back to Wanda. “Put this somewhere safe and let’s get out of here.”
Wanda slid the pouch into her duffel and picked it up before hustling back to the bathroom to grab the rolling suitcase. Tracy picked up the recycling bin stuffed full of supplies and grabbed the case of Slim Fast.
They headed out the front door of Wanda’s apartment, back through the hallway that still smelled like a mix of rot and vomit, and out into the California sunshine.
Tracy stopped at the edge of the parking lot, fear and dread shocking her still. She turned to Wanda, the older woman’s face paling as she stared at the empty parking spot in front of them.
The Suburban was gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY
MADISON
Sacramento, CA
2:00 p.m.
Brianna slowed as Madison pointed at the little brown bungalow two houses from the end of the street.
“It’s so cute… and tiny!”
Madison smiled as she rolled her eyes. “My parents moved here when I left for college. They didn’t want to take care of a big house anymore.”
Peyton nudged her. “I like it. It’s almost Lilliputian.”
“It’s like one of those tiny houses you see on TV.” Tucker craned his head out the open window. “Does it come on wheels? I bet it’s got wheels.”
“Guys, come on. It’s just a sma
ll house. This whole neighborhood was built in the forties. Haven’t you seen any documentaries about the building after World War II?”
Each one of her friends gave her a blank look. “You know, the building and baby boom? All these tiny houses were built for the GIs just coming home from the war. Some people love these places.”
Peyton half-coughed out a response. “Not six-foot-two guys.”
“You’re all just jealous.” Madison pointed at the front step. “I bet none of you have a patio where you can grow tomatoes in March.”
Brianna pulled the Jeep into the drive and turned off the engine. “I confess. Those patio tomatoes are making me green with envy.”
“You mean green with hunger. I see one that’s ripe right now.” Tucker pushed open the passenger door and hopped out, walking over to the plants without another word.
“How can you be hungry? You ate half of that minimart!” Brianna shook her head. “Men.”
“Watch it. There’s still one of us in the car.” Peyton poked Brianna in the shoulder with a grin a mile wide, but Madison wasn’t interested. They’d been trying to get to her house for two days. She needed to find her family and hug them.
“Come on.” Madison pushed open her door and Peyton and Brianna did the same. She walked past Tucker, who was crouched over the tomato plants and knocked on the front door. The sound carried through the dark house.
She shifted her weight back and forth, waiting. After thirty seconds, she knocked again, rapping her knuckles on the window instead of the wood. Still no answer.
Madison cursed under her breath and held her hands up to the glass, cupping her face to block out the afternoon sun. She couldn’t make out much inside other than the familiar couch and now-worthless television.
“Brianna, check the garage, will you?” Madison shouted the question to her roommate while she made her way down the front porch to the side of the house. No evidence of anyone.
“No car in the garage.” Brianna came around the corner shaking her head. “I don’t think they’re home.”
“Where could they be? Why would they leave?” Madison frowned and rubbed at her forehead, trying to make sense of it. If her mom had received even one of her texts, then she’d be there, safe and sound, wouldn’t she?
