The Summer the World Ended

by Matthew S. Cox

  Fearful of attracting unwanted attention, Riley didn’t bother pulling out the flashlight to look for tracks. If Dad went anywhere, he’d probably have gone to the house. Maybe she’d gotten herself too wound up over it and he’d found the house habitable and simply fallen asleep in his own bed.

  No. He wouldn’t have forgotten me. Something bad happened.

  Determined, she marched on.

  A few minutes of walking led her to the edge of a ravine deeper than she remembered seeing before. No, this isn’t the way. She backed up and followed the edge for a little while until deciding she was getting herself even more lost. Crap. Crap. Crap. She trotted in a direct line away from the ravine, one hand on the gun, the other on the flashlight. A steady breeze from her left side felt good enough to get her to stop and enjoy fresh air. When she took a deep breath, the scent of cooking meat filled her nostrils. She caught herself drooling before her brain ascribed meaning to the smell: beef.

  Flickering yellow-orange light caught her eye. A fire. She slowed to a silent creep, and moved in that direction. The wavering glow cast long shadows from the far side of a hulking vehicle similar to a stranded RV or a trailer. In the dark, she could make out only the overall shape, but not the color or condition of the walls and windows.

  Maybe Dad fell and hurt his leg? Is that his campfire?

  She advanced. Hope became dread at the sound of unfamiliar voices murmuring. At least two figures moved around near the fire, on the other side of the trailer. Her mouth watered. It wasn’t Dad, but that smelled soooo good. She thought back to playing The Last Outcast and used her virtual training at stealth to stay in the shadows. Riley had a lot of practice evading ‘vision cones’ of AI-controlled baddies, and hoped it was at least somewhat close to reality as she edged up to the near side of the dead vehicle. The creak of flimsy aluminum on the roof scraped in the wind overhead, startling her to a halt. For a second, she debated if she should run away or if these people might be able to help her find Dad.

  “Bored,” said a man on the other side. “Think we’ll catch anything?”

  Riley froze.

  “Word is they were seen ‘round here.” A few deep gulps broke the silence. “Ahhh, that’s good shit. Leas’ you got lucky findin’ that meat.”

  “Indeed, Bird, indeed.”

  She crouched. Raiders or bandits… Who names their kid ‘Bird?’

  “Only thing’d make this night better is some tight pussy,” said the wheezy man.

  “I hear that,” said Bird. “You shouldn’t have got rid of yer last one.”

  “Bah. Bitch was crazy. I had to do it.”

  Her eyes widened. Oh, shit. If they see me, I’m so raped. Her hand slapped on the Beretta. She yanked it out of her waistband and flicked the safety off. I gotta get out of here. An empty aluminum can crunched under her first step back.

  She tensed her legs to run, but at the sound of boots skiffing closer in the dirt, she ducked under the vehicle.

  “Huh,” muttered the near man. “Who’s there?”

  “Think that’s one of ‘em?” asked the other one.

  I don’t wanna think about what they’d do to a young, pretty girl out here, said Dad’s voice in her mind.

  A set of blue jeans and black boots approached. “Didn’t see no lights.”

  Riley crammed herself against the axle, trying to melt into the dark.

  The more distant guy took a step closer. “Me neither.”

  “You hear that?” asked the near voice.

  Oh, no. Trembling hands lowered the Beretta to aim at the shins three feet away from her. When Lisa hid beneath the semi trailer, Riley had been scared for her. Being in the situation for real set her heart racing, her palms sweating, and her entire body trembling. Images of dirty, hairy men coming after her with leashes, ropes, and chains flashed through her mind. No way would that happen to her. The world’s over. This gun is the only law left. They wouldn’t hesitate to hurt me.

  “Hear what?” The more distant man stood with a grunt. Shadows moved around the fire.

  “Somethin’s movin’ under the trailer.”

  Just like the game. Lisa can do it. I can do it. She moved her index finger from the side to the trigger. It’s not a person; it’s a rapey monster… Just a silhouette, a target. The trembling wouldn’t stop.

  The figure took a knee and grunted.

  Shaking hands made aiming difficult, even at such short range. She brought the Beretta up, waiting to see his eyes. Tears streaked down her face and the memory of SpaghettiOs welled up in the back of her throat. Please go away. Please don’t make me do this.

  Dense, curly beard crept into view followed by a bit of chin, then nose. He grunted, beer gut making it cumbersome for him to peer too far down.

  Her finger took up the slack on the trigger, another smidge of pressure and it would go off. One human hair’s width of travel, and she’d kill a man.

  “Lonnie, grab the rifle,” said the near voice. “Probably a coyote after the meat. Eesh. Whatever’tis smells funny.”

  “Yah,” said the near voice.

  Bang.

  The crack of a gunshot rang out in the distance. Riley’s jaw hung open and her body seized. She had to look back and forth from the pistol to the man to believe the noise hadn’t come from her weapon. How her finger hadn’t clenched when she jumped… Three more shots followed. Men shouted, but they were too far away to make out words―or maybe they weren’t even men anymore.

  “Zat you?” asked the near voice.

  “Nawp,” said Lonnie. “Someone’ havin’ fun a bit west. I see muzzle flare.”

  The man close to the trailer grunted and stood. Riley aimed down at the dirt, taking her finger off the trigger and hyperventilating. Oh, God. Oh, God.

  Safety on.

  Both men jogged around the fire to the side of their camp farthest from her. There was nothing between her and a stack of already-cooked meat soaked in dark sauce. She crawled forward, all attention focused on a little folding stool with a plate on top of it. Fifteen paces past the campfire, a barrel-chested man and a skinny man attempted to look into the distance.

  “What ya figure that was?”

  The skinny one shrugged.

  Overwhelmed by the siren call of cooked beef, Riley darted out of cover and snagged the biggest piece she could get her hand on. Two imposing shadow-figures whirled around, gawking at her. She didn’t think about the Beretta in her hand, focused completely on the wonderful fragrance as she gave them a wild-eyed face and jammed the food into her mouth with a snarl.

  “Hey!” yelled one.

  She grabbed another piece and sprinted away from them.

  “Shit, get her!” yelled Bird.

  “What the hell was that?” yelled Lonnie.

  The clomping of boots behind her added fire to her step. She ran hard, able to see enough by way of moonlight to avoid tripping over rocks or slipping into ruts. Two out-of-shape, rapist biker-bandits wouldn’t catch a too-skinny fourteen-year-old who’d been ‘training’ to survive for the past four days. Nope. She was good. If she could outrun the overweight girls who kept stuffing her in lockers, she could outrun these two. A wild thought brought a manic smile, her grade school tormentors―still in New Jersey―were, in all likelihood, dead.

  Rocks, bushes, and a cactus or two shot by. Drool and sauce ran over her chin and down her neck. Even after she could no longer hear them, she kept going until her legs couldn’t take any more. She gasped for breath around the barbecued meat in her teeth, feeling light-headed as her run faded to a staggering lope. After a quick look back at empty darkness, she headed for a shallow ravine and huddled against the side, well below view. The Beretta went into her right thigh pocket to free her hand, and she took the first rib out of her mouth and licked her lips. As awesome as it was, she savaged it with little regard for taste, snarling and gnawing until she had bare bone in her grasp. She threw it aside and took the second piece in both hands, nibbling and licking at it slow
enough to taste. It occurred to her she must look like a carnivorous rodent, which made her think of Dad calling her ‘Squirrel.’ Adrenaline gone, she shivered with fear, guilt, and sadness, crying while she gnawed on her purloined feast.

  I almost shot a guy.

  After almost two weeks of MREs and SpaghettiOs, the taste drew eager whimpers despite the tears flowing full bore from both eyes. For a short while, she forgot about everything but the awesomeness in her hands.

  When no meat remained, she licked sauce and dirt from her fingers and scraped her teeth over the bone. The weight of the Beretta in her pants reminded her that not every meal would be free. Eventually, she would have to kill something―or someone.

  She leaned back against the soft earth, closing her eyes as the wind played with her hair. I love your green eyes. Kieran’s voice whispered from the ether. The image of him backing away from Dad’s cold stare warped her face into a grimace of sorrow. Riley put a hand over her mouth to stifle the crying. Hot tears slid down her cheeks, onto her neck. Those men could be close. I gotta hide. They’re gonna get the rest of their gang and come hunting. They saw me. They know I’m a girl.

  Fear and fatigue got her to stay still for a short while. As long as it remained silent, she let herself enjoy the freedom of open sky. She sniffed the bone, wondering what kind of meat it had been. It tasted like beef, but…

  She grabbed her gut. I… no. That was not human.

  It tasted too good to throw up. Definitely beef. Maybe dog?

  A distant shout startled her, though it came from too far away to make out words. With the Beretta pointed down and to the right, Riley climbed the far side of the ravine and looked around. Stillness blanketed the flat ground in all directions, with no sign of a campfire anymore. That meant she had covered enough ground and would probably be too much work for them to find. Dad’s words haunted her. A girl like her had to be too tempting a prize to let go without a chase. The face of the delivery driver who’d brought the car appeared in her memory, leering, grinning. In her imagination, his hands tore at her clothes. She knew her mind made him scarier than he had been, but she nonetheless squirmed and tightened her grip on the pistol.

  After three deep breaths to summon the energy to move, she climbed out of the ravine. Again, everything looked the same no matter which way she faced. She wandered for a little while until moonlight glinted off a distant rock and a rush of hope filled her. Riley ran to it, but it was too round and tall, not the marker Dad set up. Another boulder some distance away also proved wrong.

  For what felt like hours, she roamed from rock to rock, chasing shadows and ducking into ruts whenever she heard any sound. The longer she walked, the more she regretted disobeying Dad. She could still be safe, if lonely, in the bunker. Worst-case scenario, she could find a ravine and wait for the sun to come up. Her heart leapt at the sight of another boulder, but when she skidded to a halt next to it, she realized she’d seen it before. It had a familiar gouge down the side.

  I’d be able to see home in the daytime. I’m going in circles.

  She froze. Her lip quivered.

  I didn’t call it ‘Dad’s house.’

  Riley pivoted left, opposite to the way she’d walked past that rock before, and stomped forward.

  “Mom, I know you didn’t believe in ghosts, or spirits, or God, or angels or whatever… but just in case you were wrong, if you’re there… help.”

  Four paces from another large stone, the ground moved. Riley fumbled with her flashlight, spotting it on a snake at the same instant it rattled. Much to her surprise, she neither screamed nor dropped the flashlight. She pointed the gun at it, not that the reptile recognized the threat. The rattler curled up, shaking its tail. Riley backed off.

  “Crap.”

  “Over there,” said a man. “Might be her.” Definitely not Dad, and definitely too close for comfort.

  “Eep,” she whispered, and cut the flashlight.

  A brief sprint took her to the opening of another ravine. She slid like a runner going into third base and skidded below ground level, out of sight. Riley got her feet under her again, crouching low enough to keep from being spotted as she crept forward. Flashlight beams teased at the area behind her. The trench lasted for thirty or so yards, making for a long crawl. At the far end, she poked up to look around, shivering and trying with all her effort not to breathe hard enough that she made noise. The overall shape of the terrain here seemed familiar; not enough to know where she was, but it felt like she’d been here before. Riley let her gut lead and walked, curving to the right a little and straight at a pair of wonderful, flat boulders.

  The mound of dirt between them was no mound of dirt at all.

  “We know you’re there,” yelled a man’s voice. “No one’s gonna hurt you. Drop the gun and come out.”

  She hauled the pallet up and scooted under it onto the ladder, taking care to lower it so as not to let it slam and make noise. Four rungs down, the crunch of people walking around outside got louder. Riley hurried along, pulling the Beretta when she reached the bottom. With the gun aimed straight up, she backed to the armored door. Her breathing seemed thunderous. Her fingertip teased at the trigger. If anyone opened that hatch, they’d regret it.

  I will not be kidnapped.

  Her heart pounded against her ribs at the sounds of people moving back and forth, accompanied by low murmurs. Men hunting me. She squeezed the Beretta. The weight of a gun in her hands reassured her trembles away. All the advantage was hers. They had one six-foot hole to go through, and she had sixteen bullets.

  Eventually, the activity outside faded to silence. Her arms ached from holding the gun aloft so long. She stashed it in her pants and pulled the massive door open, scooted inside, and dragged it closed behind her.

  The thud made her cringe. “If they heard that, so what… they can’t get in.”

  Safe inside the bunker, she spun the wheel, pulled the lock down, and took three steps backwards before turning around.

  No Dad.

  Exhaustion and depression ganged up on her. Riley trudged across the room, kicked off her boots, slipped out of the fatigues, and fell face first on the cot with the Beretta under her pillow. A little burp brought the taste of barbecue back to her mouth. She licked her teeth clean of a few strands of stringy meat. Adrenaline kept her trembling, and sleep at arm’s length. Riley closed her eyes and tried not to think about how close she’d come to killing someone.

  “This was supposed to be the best summer…” She sniveled, wanting to hide in her bedroom in New Jersey and never come out.

  Dad needs me.

  Tomorrow, when the sun was up, she would try again.

  ay Thirteen.

  Dreams of being a superpowered teen cutting down zombie bikers through a post-apocalyptic city faded to the bland Army-green blanket upon which Riley’s face pressed. Sleeping in a tee shirt, panties, and socks would’ve been comfortable had she been under it instead of on top of it. Teeth chattering, she rolled over and bundled up on her side.

  The bunker was still short one occupant.

  It took a shade under fifteen minutes for urgency to overpower her disinterest in a cold room, and she scurried to the toilet before racing back to get her pants. She eyed the cot, but shook her head.

  No, I can’t give up.

  She made coffee, after which she picked her way through the ‘omelet’ MRE while slurping a brew she thought for sure was strong enough to disintegrate teeth. All the while she ate, she looked at the cross she’d made, frowning at it. Plastic Toothbrush Jesus hadn’t helped.

  Mom was right.

  Her gaze fell to her lap. What if God’s just slow? I shouldn’t piss him off. Grow up, Riley. There’s no God. If there was, he wouldn’t have let the world kill itself. She smirked at the door. “Wonder if that old man survived? He’s probably running around the ashes handing out bibles.”

  She giggled

  After collecting the trash back into the MRE pouch, she poured the
rest of the coffee―Dad’s half―into her mug and went to the radio. She reclined, feet at the edge of the cushion, sock-clad toes curled over the edge and coffee clutched to her chest to warm her fingers.

  “Attention world. This is Riley McCullough. If there’s anyone alive out there, I want you to know you’re not alone.” Like me. “Colonel Bering? Are you there? Is there anyone out there?”

  Slurp.

  She stared at the clock. Exactly ten minutes later, she tried again.

  “This is Riley again. If anyone’s out there, please reply. I sound like a little girl but I’m not… and I have guns. Lots of guns with hollow point bullets. No bandits please. I’m looking for survivors.”

  When the coffee ran dry, she held on to the Beretta. This is pretty dumb. Nothing could get through that door.

  “Hi World, Riley again. How goes it? We’ve both had a pretty shitty summer so far, but, if there’s anybody out there, please say something.”

  The same faint hissing continued.

  Twenty minutes of silence.

  “So, here I am in New Mexico after the world killed itself. I was supposed to be enjoying the best summer ever with my friend Amber, who’s probably also dead now. We used to play Call of Duty all the time. It’s not really so much fun to be living the game. My mom was Lily. She died a few weeks ago when the FSB pointed a microwave gun at her head. At least, that’s what Dad thinks. I don’t know if he’s joking or serious. I hated it here at first… I mean it was lame enough even before the world ended. I met a boy and he liked―”

  She let off the transmit button, choked up. Riley refused to let herself cry anymore. Her silent stare failed to elicit any reaction from the radio. She gasped and sucked her grief in, though her eyes grew watery.

  “He liked me. His name was Kieran. The whole town had something against my dad, but now they know he was right. They made fun of him for being prepared, but he saw what was coming. There’s gotta be more people out there like him with bunkers and protection and radios and stuff. Please say something.”