by Dave Bowman
Daniel and his mother had nearly finished the water they brought with them. Sooner or later, they would have to drink from this well. But he didn’t know if he could trust the water.
He drew a bucket up and sniffed at the water. It smelled fine. He cupped some water in his hand. It looked fine, too. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to drink it.
He set the bucket on the edge of the well. He decided to see if there were any other options for water available in the area. If there weren’t, he’d be forced to boil and consume the well water from the house where he and his mother stayed.
He’d already been around the woods, looking for any streams or springs. There was very little groundwater in the area. He’d have to see what the other houses had in the way of water supplies.
His mother’s condition had not changed. Anne was still fatigued, but she wasn’t showing any of the telltale signs of the Hosta virus. He took that as a good sign and prayed each day that her health would improve.
Daniel crossed the main road in the silent town. There couldn’t have been more than one hundred inhabitants in the community before Hosta. He assumed they had all died or fled.
Beat-up trucks and cars sat rusting in front of old earthen homes. He wondered how these people had made a living before everything fell apart. No one had gardened or kept animals. There were no businesses, gas stations, or even a schoolhouse. Perhaps the ones with jobs had all driven to a bigger town nearby to work, he thought to himself. They must have carpooled, since many homes had no vehicle in front.
Many of the homes had a water well similar to the one at his adobe. He stopped at one house that didn’t and turned the doorknob. It was locked, and the stench of decaying bodies was strong even on the front step. He moved on.
He tried the next house that seemed to have no water well outside. This time, the door was open. He walked inside and looked around. Similar to the house where his mother now rested, it was empty of food, water, and corpses. Maybe some of these houses had been abandoned for a long time?
Daniel emerged back out into the sunny morning, pushing a lock of raven-black hair out of his face and crossing his arms in front of his chest. He was overdue a haircut, he noted. He’d have to ask his mother to cut his hair when she felt better.
As he stood in the empty street, he began to have the distinct feeling that someone was watching him.
He turned around, expecting to see someone in the road, but it was empty. He looked in every direction, scanning up and down the road and sweeping his gaze over the windows of the houses. He saw no one. But he couldn’t shake that feeling.
Though the sun was burning off the cold of the early morning, Daniel felt a chill. He shivered and looked around once again before heading back to check on his mother.
He found her just as he had left her – sleeping soundly in the bed. He closed the bedroom door quietly and went back outside.
The streets were just as empty as they had been the past three days, but Daniel no longer felt alone in the town. He felt like his every move was being watched carefully.
There could have been a Hosta survivor or two in this area. It seemed a little unlikely, though, since Daniel hadn’t heard anyone else the previous days.
He decided it wasn’t a threat. Daniel and Anne had already been in the town three days, and there had been no confrontation with anyone. If someone else was there, they were probably just nervous to see a new person on the street and were afraid to make contact with Daniel. But Daniel figured it was more likely that the stress was getting to him. It was playing tricks on his brain. He decided to ignore the strange feeling of being watched.
Hopefully today would be the day that Anne would get better, and they could head toward White Pine Falls in the morning. Yes, they should stay put today, Daniel decided. The stress of packing up, leaving, and searching for another town to stay in wouldn’t help Anne recover. Besides, there could be danger anywhere they went. They would stay where they were for now, until they could rejoin their people and enjoy the safety in numbers.
He brought the bucket of water inside and set it to boil in a pot on the wood cook stove. They had no choice but to drink the water from the well.
And just in case, Daniel resolved to keep his gun on him at all times.
12
With their food and supplies slashed, Nick’s group set out on the southern route through the mountains.
Jessa led the way in her Forest Service truck with Trina and Bethany. Liz followed in the Dodge Ram with Charlie, Matt and Mia. Nick brought up the rear in the Ford. He wore goggles to protect his eyes from the dust and any rocks that might find their way inside the open space where they had removed the windshield. It wasn’t the most pleasant way to drive, but they needed the supplies that were loaded in the bed of the truck.
Besides, he considered it his penance for his lapse in judgment. But he didn’t dwell on that too much. What was he supposed to do – let the kids just take whatever they wanted? He felt a certain responsibility in setting an example for Mia and Matt. He couldn’t teach them to let people walk all over them without a fight.
If they could get out of Colorado and into White Pine Falls, things wouldn’t look so bleak. He’d much prefer the pressure to get shelter built before winter to fighting off thieves, gangs, and starvation. Now that most of their food had been stolen, they’d have to scavenge in houses and stores along the way.
An hour into their journey, Jessa’s brake lights came on. As the convoy came to a stop, Nick looked ahead to see a sight that made his heart sink.
Massive amounts of rocks and soil had fallen onto the road from the cliff towering over them.
Up ahead, Jessa closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear to even look at the giant pile of boulders. They had run into one disaster after another. Now, a landslide just seemed like a cruel joke.
A sick, nauseous feeling gripped her as her passengers silently opened their doors and stepped out to look at the landslide. She suddenly felt like they were living in a nightmare that never ended.
She took a deep breath and jumped out of the truck to join Nick and the others at the edge of the obstruction. The boulders were enormous, and the soil must have weighed tons. The road was completely buried.
Her heart beat faster as she surveyed the extent of the blockage. She fought back claustrophobia and panic. It was almost as if the boulders were pressing down on top of her.
“Now what?” Trina asked, breaking the trance everyone seemed to be in.
“We’ll have to just turn around, right?” Liz asked, her eyes still on the boulders. “Take a different route.”
Matt went to fetch the map. Everyone stared at the landslide while he was gone. Seeing how a big chunk of the mountain had just slid down like that, with no regard for humans’ concepts about progress and order, had a strange way of humbling even a casual observer.
He returned and spread it open on the light green hood of Jessa’s truck. Nick stepped up to trace the route they had planned back to Interstate 25.
“This is the only way to take this southern route back to the interstate,” he said, pointing out where they were on the map.
“What about this northern route?” Liz asked, indicating another series of roads that led out of the mountains.
“That route is much longer and slower,” Nick said. “But most importantly, it veers too close to Denver.”
Everyone was quiet, remembering their encounters with the gang members.
“So we run a much greater risk of colliding with the BSC up there,” Nick continued.
“Yeah, and now they’re really pissed at us and probably have even more people out hunting for us,” Jessa added.
“I’d really rather not go through that again,” Trina said.
“I don’t think any of us do,” Liz said. “But what other options do we have?”
The eight of them were quiet for a while, staring at the slide.
“Can we haul those rocks off?” Matt asked.
Matt looked at the boulders that were taller than any of the trucks, then he looked down. “That was a stupid question.”
Nick gave him a little smile. “I wish we could just make this disappear. But I’m afraid we’re not getting around these rocks. This road is impassable.”
Bethany moved her hands over her belly and leaned against the truck. “How much longer will it be?”
Nick looked at the map. “It’ll add another four hours to an already long trip. Maybe more.”
“Maybe a lot more when you figure in the stops to scavenge for food,” Jessa said. “We can’t forget about that. It will take all day to get to New Mexico this way.”
“I think we can survive the longer trip,” Liz said. “I’m just worried about running into the BSC again.”
Charlie drew closer to the map. “What if we just go the route we took to get to the ski lodge in the first place? Would there be any outlets to the interstate before getting too close to Denver?”
Charlie traced the route with his finger. He shook his head and answered his own question. “That wouldn’t work. That would just spit us out even closer to gang territory, wouldn’t it?”
Nick stared at the map, following the faint, twisting lines that crossed the western half of Colorado. “Looks like it,” he said.
“So our only choice,” Liz said, “Is to take the northern route.”
“And risk running into the BSC again,” Trina added glumly. Her face twisted up in worry. “I feel like we’re driving into our own death.”
Jessa looked over at Nick, trying to read his face. He was staring at the landslide, his face expressionless. She imagined he was cursing their bad luck, just as she was.
Liz looked at each of them struggling with the disastrous development. “Hey, we’ve done pretty well for ourselves so far, right?” She forced a smile. “If we run into them again, who’s to say we can’t fend for ourselves?”
But even Liz knew that their encounters with the BSC could have easily gone the other way. They had been lucky with the gang members, and that luck could run out at any time.
“Another run-in means bloodshed,” Trina said, her voice shaking. “Ours or theirs. And fighting them off means we have to kill them. The idea is sickening to me. I don’t want any more blood on my hands.”
“None of us do, Trina,” Jessa said. “Every time we’ve shot at people, it was in self-defense.”
“Not every time,” Trina said.
Liz opened her mouth to respond, but she stopped herself. Maybe Trina was right. The guys had gone after those teenagers. They had shot at them in an effort to recover the supplies. Maybe they had gone too far.
“What we did this morning was self-defense, too,” Charlie said, glaring at Trina. “Those kids stole our food. Theft isn’t the same as murder, but starvation will kill people all the same. We had to at least try to get our stuff back. So, we didn’t succeed. But we tried. And if we had gotten the truck back, you’d be eating the food right now without any objections.”
Trina looked away.
“That’s true,” she said quietly. “I understand why you guys went after those thieves. I don’t mean to judge anyone here. But,” she said, wiping a tear away, “I just can’t face another confrontation where I have to shoot somebody. There’s been so much death already.”
Jessa sighed and sat on the ground in front of the landslide. She looked at the way the slope of the mountain had broken apart, as if it had simply given up the effort to stay in place and released itself to tumble down into the ravine below.
The landscape had been changing gradually since the dawn of time. Humans had thought they could tame it, and they had kept certain things under control, at least to a degree. Now, nature would take over. In a hundred years, with no one to clear the trails and dirt roads like this one, they would be reclaimed by the wilderness.
The prospect of another battle made Jessa’s stomach tie itself in a knot. All she wanted was to get everyone back to New Mexico where they could get settled and live quiet lives. It was the most anyone could hope for in this new world, among these remnants of civilization.
Nor did she ever forget that she was the reason her friends had gone to Colorado in the first place. The guilt and confusion weighed heavily on her shoulders. She had to do everything she possibly could to get them out of there.
“None of us want to kill anyone,” Jessa said, breaking the tense silence. “I’d never shot anyone in my life until some guys in Santa Fe tried to attack me three weeks ago. As soon as society collapsed, people started going insane. Not everyone, but a lot of them. Maybe the weak ones, I don’t know. The ones who couldn’t cope with having to survive on their own without civilization to keep them safe and warm.”
She stood up, her eyes still on the boulders scattered across the road.
“It’s like the horror of losing everything – family, friends, a way of life, all that gave us meaning – made some people lose their grip on reality. They lost a part of themselves. Their humanity,” Jessa said. “They’re the ones who turn to theft and mindless violence and enslavement. They don’t know any other way to make it. They don’t see any other way to survive without wielding power over others, without hurting anyone they view as weaker or in the way.
“But the way I see it, they’re the weak ones. The people like us, even though we may not have been the most prepared, or have the best skills, or do everything perfectly – we’re the strong ones. We can survive without senseless cruelty.”
Jessa, slightly breathless, looked up at the others.
“That’s a nice speech, Jessa,” Trina said. “But what’s your point? We still have to kill people if they’re dangerous to us, right? In the end we’re all just murderers.”
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that the difference between us and the BSC is that we’re not hurting people to prop ourselves up. Everyone here would prefer to never pick up a weapon against another human again. And our friends from Los Gatos are like us. They don’t use force unnecessarily. But when it comes to survival, or living our lives freely –”
“You mean not becoming a forced laborer for the BSC?” Liz asked with anger in her voice as she remembered Trina’s story of the work camps the gang ran.
“Yeah, that’s what I mean,” Jessa said. “The rules have changed. We no longer have law enforcement or the justice system to protect us. We’re on our own. Defending ourselves with lethal force is unfortunately what we’ll have to do now, if we want to go on living.”
Her gaze moved over the faces before her. Mia was looking at her, listening attentively with big, innocent eyes. It saddened Jessa that a little girl had to hear this kind of talk. Even worse, Mia had to live through violence and extreme uncertainty. Matt was too young for this, too.
But Jessa couldn’t shield them from reality. She could only do everything in her power to keep them alive.
“None of us here will take a life unless it’s to protect each other or what we need to survive. We’re not fighting for sport. We’re fighting for our survival, for our freedom.”
Jessa turned on her heels and headed back to her truck. She thought she saw a glimmer of a proud smile on Nick’s face as she passed by.
She opened the truck door and paused, glancing over at the rest of the group who still stood by the landslide.
“Are you coming or not?” she asked.
13
Everyone jumped to action. Daylight was wasting, and they had to face the inevitable. There was no other route but north. They’d have to get closer to Denver than anyone wanted.
Most of them hadn’t eaten since last night. They were saving what little rations they had for the evening, in case they didn't find anything before then. Bethany, Mia and Matt, whom everyone agreed should get to eat more frequ
ently, had only eaten a small breakfast of oatmeal and milk.
They all hoped to find an empty house to raid at some point in the journey out of the mountains. But as the three thieves had said earlier, there was nothing but wilderness in those parts.
Liz tried to ignore her growling stomach as she drove the twisting roads. Being in a stressful situation seemed to make her hungrier. She held her breath on each bend of the road, hoping to see an empty vacation home in the distance, but she saw nothing except alpine forests and river valleys.
She couldn’t believe that just a week ago, they had stocked their kitchen with enough canned and boxed food to last them for months. Plus, they were preparing a garden that was sure to give them fresh food. They had lost so much, and so quickly. It still felt like a dream.
Of course, just a month ago, Liz had been living in a city with what seemed like an endless supply of food. Planes and trucks had brought in food from all over the country and even from other continents. Consumers were taught to expect every kind of food at the market, whenever they wanted it.
Tropical fruit could be found in the dead of winter, grown thousands of miles away. Restaurants served every kind of exotic cuisine she could ever want.
Liz, like many, never had any reason to think that way of life would ever end.
She remembered the dinners with her family before her loved ones had been torn from her years ago – the homemade pizza her dad made, and the comfort food her mom would cook when Liz was feeling down.
“There’s nothing that a big plate of fried chicken, biscuits, and greens won’t fix,” her mom had said.
And her mother had often been right.
Since living on her own, Liz had stopped cooking much. She usually filled up on pastries at her coffee shop job, and then called in take-out food at her favorite neighborhood restaurants. The only times she got home-cooked food were evenings spent with her friend Sarah.
