by N. W. Harris
“You did the right thing.” Kelly reached over and put her soft hand on his forearm. “She’d understand.” Her empathy showed in her moist, sapphire eyes.
“Thanks,” he murmured.
Kelly’s touch and her kind expression soothed him, but wasn’t enough to erase his remorse. He started the engine on Granny’s old truck, and with a last glance in the rearview mirror at the loading dock with his aunt on it, Shane drove out of the lot. He knew from experience, the pain of losing her would stay with him forever, eating away at his soul and tormenting him in the quiet hours of the night when everyone else was able to sleep.
“What now?” Kelly asked, her tone dismal.
“I reckon we should drive around town and see if anyone else survived. Maybe we can find some adults.” He expected that wouldn’t happen, but no other ideas came to him, and he didn’t have the nerve to tell her he had no clue.
Turning right at the next intersection, Shane found a road that wasn’t blocked and got the truck up onto Main Street. Buzzing streetlamps cast the five-block stretch lined with businesses in yellow light, so they could see the full extent of the devastation. Most of the stores’ front windows lay in bloodstained shards on the sidewalk, and bodies littered the street. He navigated the truck around abandoned cars and did his best to avoid running over or even looking at the dead. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he wished he could keep his passengers from seeing the bodies. Their faces were ghostly white, their eyes wide as they surveyed the destruction. Shane knew the innocence and magic of childhood was ripped away from these children; they’d never be the same after this.
A handful of dogs milled about, sniffing trashcans and corpses with their heads hung low in that same rueful way in which the dogs that attacked Mrs. Morris behaved after they killed her. A horse stood inside Sanford’s Pharmacy, looking out at the truck with a small, colorful box hanging from its mouth, pillaging the candy section. Shane knew most of the people who owned and worked in the stores on Main Street and went to school with many of their kids. He wanted to stop the truck and run inside the hundred-year-old brick and marble buildings to see if anyone survived, or maybe was injured and in need of help. But it was so quiet he knew he’d only find them all dead, mutilated by the animals and insects, and he didn’t have the stomach see it.
The left side of the truck rocked up and then down, the tire rolling over something soft. Cold horror flowed through Shane. He’d just run over a body and feared it might be someone he knew, perhaps one of his friends’ mom or dad.
“It was better down below, where there weren’t so many lights,” Kelly said, her skin losing color like she might be ill as well.
“Yeah, let’s get out of here.” Shane turned on Highway 72, the well-kept, two-lane road going out to the freeway.
They crept along, avoiding more wreckage on the hill leading away from Main Street. It took fifteen minutes to drive two miles down to the high school. Shane worked on developing a new reflex to keep it together as he drove. The instant his eyes fell on a dead body, he shifted his focus away. He couldn’t stand to see any more human carnage, and defensively made an effort to pretend they weren’t even there. The particularly mangled bodies, or the random bloody parts lying in the road, he had greater trouble ignoring.
In the front yard of the church, a coyote darted out of the glow of the truck’s headlights, a head dangling from its bloody jaws. The fleeting glimpse of this animal carrying away a piece of someone’s mom or dad, or maybe the historical church’s preacher, was enough to leave the image seared in his mind. Another scar he expected would stay with him forever.
A flicker of hope ignited in Shane when he saw the school. The parking lot had undamaged cars parked in it, and the lights were on in the gymnasium and cafeteria. His dad’s mechanic shop was further down the road, near the freeway. Shane resisted the urge to drive to it. In all likelihood, his father wasn’t at the shop. He could be at home, or maybe even here at the school.
“This looks promising,” Shane said. He turned the truck into the school’s driveway.
“Please, let there be people in there,” Kelly whispered, glancing down at Nat resting on her lap.
Shane parked the truck in the fire lane next to the gym. He climbed out and gazed around the parking lot. He recognized several of the cars, including Aaron Morris’ topless old Jeep. It hurt to look at the rust-colored vehicle. If Aaron were at the school, Shane would have to tell him what happened to his mother. He lowered the Ranger’s tailgate, lifting James and Sara to the ground. The two older, silent boys climbed out and they all looked up at him as if waiting to be told what to do.
Kelly slid Nat out and held her cradled in her arms, the traumatized little girl never waking up in the process. Shane glanced around at the small entourage, their glum expressions as hard to endure as all the death he’d seen in the last few hours.
“Well, let’s take a look inside,” he said, walking toward the school with the others in tow.
The gym door squeaked when he opened it. Shane held his breath, eager to find adults who knew what was going on and would be able to take care of the children he’d picked up. If there were some alive here, then it could mean others had survived—his dad might still be alive. At least fifty kids of all ages mingling on the basketball court and sitting in the bleachers stopped talking and turned their faces toward him. Shane paused, scanning the room. Many of them had red eyes, and several had fresh tears on their cheeks. A wave of grumbles erupted across the gym, and the kids returned to their hushed conversations or lowered their faces back into their hands and continued to weep.
“They were probably hoping for an adult,” Kelly observed. She’d slipped up beside him.
“Shane!” a familiar voice called.
Looking at the bleachers to the right, he saw Aaron climbing down. Shane walked over to meet him, the image of Aaron’s mom being ripped up by the dogs fresh in his mind.
“Where are y’all coming from?” Aaron asked once they met him at the bottom.
“Granny’s house,” Shane replied. His insides quaked as he braced himself to deliver the bad news to his friend. Shane’s eyes involuntarily shifted off Aaron’s to the kids in the back of the gym.
“My mom was out that way. You didn’t happen to see her, did ya?” He sounded so desperate and hopeful that it made Shane’s chest ache.
“Naw,” Shane replied. It came out before he had a chance to formulate the truthful answer. He felt like total crap for lying to his friend, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn back now so he tried to change the subject. “What’s going on here?”
“Nothing organized. I was here for practice when the animals went nuts.” Aaron’s lip quivered when he paused. “A bunch of coyotes came across the field and killed Coach Rice. We tried to kick them off, but there were just too many.” He looked down at his shaking hands, and then shoved them in his pockets like he couldn’t stand the sight of them. “The oddest thing was even when we attacked them, they didn’t try to bite us.”
“Seems like the same thing is happening everywhere,” Shane said, sick from hearing about Coach’s death. He thought of him almost like a father, probably because Coach was a million times cooler than his own dad was lately.
Nat woke up, and Kelly lowered her to the floor.
“Are we at the field trip yet?” Nat asked, rubbing her eyes with her little fists.
“Yeah, this is where it starts,” Shane replied. He forced a smile, burdened by the notion that he was dishing another lie.
“I’m hungry.” The little girl looked from Kelly to Shane with inquisitive, puppy eyes.
“We can fix that,” Aaron said, tousling Nat’s straight, blonde hair. “A few kids went to the cafeteria to make some food for everyone. Come on, I’ll take you over.”
Aaron led the way across the gym. Shane saw Joe Baker, Steve Thompson, Tracy Cyrus, and several other kids he went to school with. At least half of the people in the gym were younger, elementary schoo
l kids, who he figured must be the little brothers and sisters of his classmates.
They walked through the covered breezeway connecting the gym to the rest of the school, and Shane saw Laura, the quiet Goth girl he sat next to in chemistry class. She sat alone in the shadows on one of the metal benches in the grassy area beside the sidewalk. Just enough light from the breezeway shown on her so he could see tears had smeared her excessive, black mascara down over her cheeks.
“You guys go ahead,” he said to Kelly. “I’ll catch up in a minute.”
Kelly glanced over at Laura, and then back at Shane. No one seemed to like Laura at school—she ate lunch alone and drifted through the hallways like a silent ghost. He expected a look of disdain to cross Kelly’s face, but she surprised him with a tender and understanding grin. Shane waited until the others entered the cafeteria, then walked over and sat down next to Laura.
“You alright?” he asked.
“No,” she replied, fresh tears gushing.
Shane waited for her to say more. Instead, she turned and embraced him, crying into his shirt. He awkwardly petted her coal-black hair and let her weep. She had a floral smell, likely from her shampoo. It took Shane by surprise, not that he expected her to stink or anything, but she was always dressed in such dark clothes, and he’d never seen her smile. The flowery fragrance seemed to contrast sharply with her attire and personality. After a few minutes, she pulled away and slumped her head forward, putting her face in her hands.
Knowing she must have lost her parents, Shane wasn’t sure he could say anything to comfort her. Under much less stressful circumstances, he’d tried to talk with her several times in class, to learn more about her. She was always ready with the kind of answers that ended a conversation quickly, or at least didn’t offer any fuel to keep it going. Yet still, Laura’s brown eyes seemed kind, and he expected under all that makeup was a shy girl who put on a front so she would be left alone.
“I’m going to go inside and get something to eat,” he said. “You want to join me?”
Laura shook her head, not raising her eyes to meet his.
He stood and hesitated before walking back over to the breezeway. He turned and looked back at her, hoping she’d come inside. It couldn’t be good for her to just sit out here and wallow in her sorrow. She didn’t budge, so he headed toward the cafeteria.
“Shane.” Laura’s weak voice stopped him just before he walked inside.
“Yeah,” he replied, pivoting on his heel.
“Thanks.”
“No problem,” he said, not sure what he’d done. He smiled as best he could.
Laura lowered her head, putting her face back in her hands.
Walking through the double doors into the lunchroom, Shane stopped and blinked to adjust his eyes to the bright fluorescent lights. Although thirty or so kids sat at different tables across the room, he’d never seen the cafeteria so quiet. Similar to the kids in the gym, they wore somber expressions, munching with disinterest on sandwiches and potato chips doled out by three kids working behind the stainless-steel counter.
“Shane,” Kelly called, “over here.”
She sat with her sister, the three little boys and the girl they’d picked up behind the grocery store, and Aaron, at an isolated table on the far left side of the room. He walked over, thinking he would’ve loved her to call to him from across the lunchroom under normal circumstances, in the middle of the school day. She might have smiled politely at him once or twice during lunch, but most days, she’d sit with the rest of the cheerleaders, engrossed in animated conversation. Shane would steal awed glances of her, like the rest of the boys in school, with no expectation that he’d ever have a chance to sit next to the blonde queen of cool.
“I got you a sandwich.” She pointed at a plastic tray with food on it.
“Thanks, Kelly,” he replied, slumping into the seat.
Across the table from Shane, Aaron stared with a blank expression down at his sandwich, probably worrying about his mom. The reminder that he’d lied about seeing Mrs. Morris stole away any joy he might’ve experienced from sitting next to Kelly.
“How’s Laura?” Kelly asked with sincere concern in her voice.
“Pretty sad,” he said, shocked she even knew the girl’s name.
“Should I take her some food?” Kelly asked.
“Yeah, might be a good idea. But you should eat first.”
Picking up his peanut butter and jelly on white bread, Shane took a bite. He didn’t have an appetite and gagged when he swallowed. Kids trickled into the cafeteria while they ate in silence. The lights made everyone look so pale, even more depressed. Shane kept hoping an adult would show up, that they hadn’t all been killed. He forced down half the sandwich and drank his milk, then munched on the salty potato chips.
“Why do they call it peanut butter and jelly and not jelly and peanut butter?” Nat’s sweet and curious voice broke the silence. She peeled her sandwich open and inspected its insides.
Everyone at the table looked at each other, weak smiles rising on Kelly and Aaron’s faces.
“J comes before P, so shouldn’t it be jelly and peanut butter?” Nat explained, sounding very serious.
“It should, shouldn’t it?” Aaron said, peeling open his sandwich and looking at its contents with a thoughtful expression.
“Yeah, let’s change it,” Kelly added. “From now on it’s a jelly and peanut butter sandwich and not peanut butter and jelly.”
“Good,” Nat replied. Seeming content that the world had been set right, she pushed the two pieces of bread back together and took a big bite.
“What should we do now?” Kelly asked after they returned to the gym.
The older kids used wrestling mats to make beds for the little ones, including Nat, on the other end of the basketball court, and the lights were turned down. Shane could tell that at least half of the younger kids were asleep, but could hear some of them whimpering, torn up over the loss of their parents. Several of the teenagers were moving from child to child, soothing them and trying to get them to rest.
Aaron and Kelly both looked at Shane, waiting for an answer. He couldn’t imagine why they thought he’d have a clue as to what they should do, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Their expressions demanded he take the lead, seeming fully confident he’d have the answers.
“Gather everyone together,” Shane said tentatively, trying to formulate a plan. “We need to huddle up and figure out what to do.”
Aaron and Kelly nodded, their worried expressions relaxing as if they were relieved to have an assignment. They herded the teenagers over to Shane. Almost everyone had the same need in their eyes that Kelly and Aaron did—they just wanted to be told everything would be all right. The burden of protecting Kelly, her sister, and the four kids they’d picked up behind the Piggly Wiggly was unnerving. Taking on the responsibility for all the kids in the gym felt overwhelming. When Shane asked for a huddle, he didn’t expect they’d all end up staring at him, wanting him to give a speech. It quickly became obvious he had to say something, because no one else was going to start the meeting.
“Okay guys,” he began with a shaky voice, trying to think of what Coach Rice would say. “We’ve all lost a lot today, and we’re feeling like total crap right now. But we have to try to pull it together and make sure we’re doing the right thing for those kids down there.” He pointed toward the dark end of the gym, where the children slept. “They can’t survive without us.”
What he said sounded embarrassingly cliché to Shane, but a wave of agreeing nods and sounds passed through the small group of teens and they kept their eyes glued on him, their faces begging him to continue.
“Has anyone seen an adult alive since this started?” Shane asked to get some of the attention off himself.
They gave each other hopeful glances, but no one answered.
“Then we have to be the adults now.” He looked around the group with his eyebrows raised, encouraging someone e
lse to chime in. “We need to come up with some ideas. We need to make a plan.”
“We could stay here and wait for someone to come for us,” Aaron offered with uncertainty in his voice, glancing around like he expected an objection.
“Nobody is going to help us,” Matt said drearily. Matt and Shane had been close friends in elementary school, but had grown apart over the last couple of years as Shane became more athletic and Matt brainier. “I checked the internet, and the same thing is happening all over the world. Animals are attacking adults and, in the cities, adults are killing each other. No one seems to know why.”
“And there isn’t much food left in the cafeteria. Soon, the electricity will go out if there is no one at the power plants to keep it going.” This came from Billy, a nervous, short, red-haired sophomore who helped serve sandwiches in the cafeteria earlier. His family was one of the poorest in town, and he wore stained and outdated clothing that clearly came from donations or the Goodwill store. When they were in the first and second grade, Billy was the kid who always smelled like pee, and everyone used to call him Willie Wee Wee. He’d never been able to shake the reputation and was still one of the least popular kids in school.
“I saw this program on TV where they showed what would happen if all the people disappeared,” Billy continued. “Things are gonna fall apart pretty quickly.”
“What’s gonna happen?” Shane asked, glad to have some other people giving input. He’d always thought that Billy was a nice enough guy and had made an effort to talk to him whenever he had a chance.
“Well, first the electricity will go out. Then nuclear power plants and nuclear waste storage facilities will melt down, and it’ll be like Chernobyl times a hundred, with nuclear waste spreading all over the place. Oh yeah, and chemical plants that use refrigeration to keep toxic chemicals in a liquid form will explode, and toxic gas will be blown everywhere.” Billy’s voice got pitched and panicky, his shoulders rising defensively and his head dropping like he wasn’t accustomed to having people look at him, much less listen to him for more than a second. “And the animals that are used to people taking care of them will start killing each other. And the rotting corpses of those that died will cause disease. And—”
