Apophis

by Eliza Lentzski

  She dipped a cotton ball into the iodine and began to rub away at the blood that had dried on the man’s forehead. “What happened?” she asked him.

  The man winced as she continued to dab at the open wound. “We’d just run out of gas,” he said. “I was planning on ditching the car and walking until we found some gasoline or another car with gas in the tank, but just as I was opening the door, those two men attacked us. They both had crowbars and started bashing the car, breaking the windows and hitting the side panels.”

  “They hit you with a crowbar?” my grandma gasped.

  “No. I think the car door clipped me in the head when I was trying to get out and they slammed it shut on me.”

  My grandma nodded sagely. “Well, it’s certainly a good thing we came along when we did.”

  The man breathed out deeply. “That’s for sure. I’m Jerry West,” he introduced himself. “And this is my daughter, Nora.”

  “Rosemary Poulsen, but you just call me Rosie,” my grandma said with a wink. “That tall drink of water over there is my son, Brandon, and that’s my granddaughter, Samantha.”

  “It’s nice to meet you all,” the man said with a brief smile and a cough.

  “I wonder how those men found you,” my dad thought out loud. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. Usually bandits stick to the cities where there’s more resources.”

  “Maybe the cities are drying up, too,” I suggested. “Maybe they’re widening their territories because they’re getting more desperate.”

  “We should get moving,” my dad said, frowning. I think he realized the truth and gravity of my words. “I don’t know what you’ve got packed in your car, but you’ll probably need to downsize. Everything you need for survival can be carried on your back.”

  “Nora,” Mr. West called to his daughter as my grandma finished patching up his head, “go start downsizing.”

  “Sam, go help her,” my grandma urged me.

  “Why?” I demanded.

  “Because it’s the right thing to do,” she said pointedly.

  I rolled my eyes, but did what she said. I walked around the vehicle to the rear where the girl was tugging on the straps of an oversized hiking pack. The backpack looked swollen from over-packing. I was surprised the zippers hadn’t burst. She made frustrated noises as she yanked and pulled without result.

  “Let me help.”

  She swung her head to look at me. “I can do it.”

  “Let me help,” I insisted again.

  “I’ll be fine,” she grunted as she continued to struggle.

  I held up my hands and walked away without another word. I knew I should have tried harder to help her, but I was only going through the motions to satisfy my grandmother.

  I walked back to where my grandmother sat in a snow bank. “That was fast,” she shrewdly commented.

  I held up my hands again. “She said she didn’t need my help.”

  My grandma shook her head and muttered something under her breath in Norwegian. I knew a few scattered phrases. I’m pretty sure she’d called me stubborn.

  My father pulled out his laminated map and laid it out on the hood of the SUV. He and Mr. West, now freshly bandaged, hovered over the waterproof map.

  “I need some directions,” my dad said.

  “I can’t let you have them,” Mr. West countered.

  “Give me a state at least,” my father snapped, clearly displeased. “We can’t help you folks if you get us lost and we’re just walking around in a giant circle. I won’t put my family at risk like that.”

  Now it was the other man’s turn to regard my father. I was glad he had put some conditions in place so we weren’t traveling blind and at this man’s mercy, but I still felt annoyed and uncomfortable that I hadn’t been consulted about my father’s decision to trust them.

  “Idaho.”

  +++++

  CHAPTER FOUR

  We started out at a brisk pace. I didn’t know if my dad was showing off in front of Jerry and Nora West, but even I was struggling to keep up. I looked back at my grandmother to see how she was doing. Her face was passive, but she seemed to be keeping up just fine.

  Mr. West walked beside me. “You look like you’re about the same age as my Nora,” he said conversationally.

  I made a grunting noise, but didn’t really answer him. It wasn’t my job to make nice with these people. We’d saved them from bandits; what more did they want from us? I didn’t have to tell either of them anything about me.

  I glanced back at the man’s daughter who was trudging a few paces behind us. We did look about the same age, but I wasn’t looking to make a new best friend. I was just trying to survive the best I could and keep my father and grandmother alive. She had a pretty face. The eternal cold kept her cheeks flushed; it made her look alive. Our eyes met briefly, hers aqua-blue and intense, and I quickly looked away, upset with myself for getting caught staring.

  “Nora graduated from Smith College. Top 5% of her class. But she’d never tell you that; she’s far too modest,” he prattled on. “Were you in college before the Frost?”

  “No.”

  I had had dreams of going to college. I wasn’t the best student in high school, so I’d imagined I’d spend two years at the local community college before transferring to one of the big state schools in Fargo or Grand Forks. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life exactly, but I’d always thought I’d have time to figure that out once I got to college. But now all of the nation’s universities were abandoned structures popular with bandits who scavenged the land like vultures preying off of others’ misfortunes and their own sense of entitlement.

  “It’s too bad all of this had to happen,” he noted wistfully. “All that work she did in college probably seems like it was for nothing now. A lot of things feel like they were for nothing, actually.”

  I adjusted the strap on my backpack to redistribute its weight. I didn’t like all of this talking. I’d fallen into a comfortable routine with my dad and grandma of not really talking until we set up camp for the night. Even then it was minimal – just talking about our plans for the next day. It was just safer not to make a lot of noise.

  Sensing that I wasn’t going to be a chatty traveling companion, Mr. West quickened his step to walk beside my father. I couldn’t help smirking. He wasn’t going to have better luck with my dad. My dad didn’t waste anything, especially idle chitchat. He chose his words carefully.

  I bent my head when a brisk wind blew through the sparse trees. God, this was miserable. I hoped the trip to Eden would be short. Maybe we would find a car with the keys still in it with gas that hadn’t been siphoned off by bandits. Maybe we’d stumble across some working snowmobiles or a pack of wild dogs we could harness to a sled. It was foolish to hope for luxuries like that, but I still let my mind wander to a world where everything wasn’t so difficult and where my legs didn’t feel like 100-pound sandbags trudging through the snowdrifts all day long.

  +++++

  After a few more hours of walking, we finally stopped for the evening. Most nights the moon was so bright overhead that we could have continued traveling, but there was no sense burning ourselves out that quickly. Instead, we built a fire large enough to cook on and set up our tents.

  Our campsite had grown from two tents to four. It seemed wasteful that the Wests couldn’t share a tent, but I could understand the desire for some semblance of privacy. I wouldn’t have wanted to share a tent with my dad either.

  I had sat back and watched Nora fumble with the various components of her tent when we stopped for the day. Her brow had been creased as she stared at poles and stakes and the tent, clearly not knowing what to do and stubbornly refusing to ask for help. Eventually her father had come over and helped her finish setting it up. I hadn’t dared look in the direction of my grandmother. I knew she’d be giving me her straight-lipped, disappointed look. It wasn’t that I didn’t consider myself helpful or altruistic, in fact I tended to be a li
ttle too forgiving or chivalrous when it came to pretty girls, but the Frost had changed me. I no longer felt the need to go above and beyond to help strangers.

  We had a limited dinner of dried meat and canned goods that evening. The Wests were able to add to the variety of canned food, but little else. They hadn’t anticipated needing too many supplies because of their ill-fated plan to drive cross-country to Eden.

  Before my dad retired to his tent for the night I helped him set up a few animal traps in the area around our campsite. They were basically glorified rat traps that couldn’t catch anything bigger than an errant squirrel, but we also set up a few larger snares, hopeful for something a little larger. The Wests couldn’t help out in that department either and I was beginning to wonder what they could help out with besides knowing how to get to Eden, which might not even exist in the first place.

  Our current campfire popped loudly. An ember about the size of a plum hopped from the fire and sizzled noisily in the surrounding snow. I nudged the choked-out cinder with the toe of my boot and watched it extinguish.

  “What was that noise?”

  I flicked my eyes over to where the girl, Nora, sat on the opposite side of the fire. Both of our fathers and my grandma had turned in earlier that evening, leaving the two of us to each other’s unwanted company.

  “It’s just the fire,” I said dully.

  “It sounded like a gun shot,” she worried.

  “It was the fire,” I insisted. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Oh.” She was silent for a long moment, just staring at the fire.

  “You know, I used to watch all those survival shows on TV before Apophis. Now it’s like we’re on our own reality show.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, it’s just like The Real World.” Her bubbly personality, which I’m sure made her popular in non-survival situations, was wearing on me. “I’m going to sleep,” I unnecessarily announced. I stood and straightened up.

  Nora looked up from the flames. “You’re leaving? What do I do with this?” she asked, gesturing to the still glowing fire.

  “Nothing. Just let it burn.”

  “Isn’t that dangerous?”

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like it’s going to burn down the forest. We’re surrounded by snow.”

  “Oh, I suppose you’re right,” she said a little sheepishly.

  I tried to keep my annoyance in check, but I’d felt prickly the moment my dad had agreed to take on two extra bodies to our group. “Good night,” I grumbled, trying my best to remember my manners. “See you in the morning.”

  “Night,” she sighed miserably.

  I tried to be as quiet as possible when I entered the tent I shared with my grandmother. I shed my oversized jacket and rolled it into a makeshift pillow. As I slid into my sleeping bag, I heard something I didn’t recognize. By this time I’d gotten used to the sounds of night. I recognized the rustle of animals moving through thick brush. I knew the sound birds’ wings made when they hit against fragile, dead branches. I knew the piercing shriek of wind whistling through the forest. But I didn’t recognize this sound. I wasn’t afraid, but I was perplexed.

  “What is that?” I said out loud to the darkness.

  “I think it’s an air pump,” my grandma said from her sleeping bag beside me.

  “An air pump?” I echoed, not getting the connection.

  “I’m assuming those folks your father picked up have an air mattress in their tent.”

  “Oh my God,” I snorted obnoxiously. Seriously. This girl. She’d probably never been camping a day in her life. I was surprised she hadn’t packed suitcases on wheels to go along with that inflatable mattress. Her dad seemed to have some sense about him though. Their backpacks looked expensive, and it was clear that they’d never been used before, but at least they were practical.

  “You should try being nicer to them, Sam.”

  “Why are you still awake, Gran?” My body was utterly exhausted from non-stop traveling. I couldn’t imagine the toll the trek was having on her.

  “Civility, Samantha,” she urged of me. “It’s the only thing left that keeps our humanity. Show the poor girl some kindness. It’s obvious she’s out of her element.”

  I bit my tongue because I knew she was right. But it was hard not to be annoyed with this girl. She didn’t know how to live off the land. She was everything I had come to hate about this existence – someone who felt that the world owed her; that it wasn’t her fault that things had become so messed up.

  I couldn’t wait to get to Eden and be rid of them both.

  +++++

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The following morning we lost a day because of a blizzard. It wasn’t actually snowing, but the wind gusts were so strong that it disrupted the top layer of ground cover, severely limiting our visibility. I couldn’t remember the last time it had snowed, but it was the first day that the weather was so ferocious that we couldn’t travel at will. It was also the first day I was really starting to miss our more permanent existence in North Dakota.

  My father had already informed us that there would be no traveling that day and that we should catch up on sleep and conserve heat and energy. My grandmother and I were cocooned in our tent, she knitting a scarf while I tried to entertain myself. When we were on the road and had a task to accomplish, I didn’t have time to be alone with my thoughts. I thought about survival instead, about putting one foot in front of the other. Without a tangible goal to achieve today like traveling thirty miles or catching small game, I had too much time to think. And all that thinking was making me melancholy.

  “Knock, knock.” Nora West’s voice floated through the material of our tent.

  My grandmother gave me an expectant look, clearly not going to be persuaded to stop knitting to open up the tent’s zipper door. With a great disgruntled sigh, I hopped up on my haunches and unzipped the tent’s doorway just enough to peer through.

  “Can I help you?” I asked. I was aware that my voice had taken on an unpleasant tone.

  Nora was bundled up in her too-nice jacket, but she wasn’t wearing a hat and her strawberry-blonde hair whipped around with each windy gust. She held a collapsible cup in each hand. “Want some company?”

  “Not really,” I grunted. I hated the way her nose crinkled adorably when she asked a question.

  My grandmother jabbed me in the ribs with her knitting needles and flashed me a look that told me to Be Polite. “Fine,” I sighed. I moved away from the doorway so Nora could come inside the tent. “Come on in.”

  “I brought coffee,” Nora said cheerfully. “I don’t have much left, but I figured what better way to thank you all for saving us than with some caffeine?” The warm, distinct aroma surrounded her like a cloud and wafted into the tent as she ducked her head and stepped inside.

  I quickly zipped the tent back up to keep in the heat. Even with icy blizzard winds whipping around outside, with our combined body heat it was actually kind of cozy inside the tent.

  Nora sat down on top of my sleeping bag and folded her long legs beneath her. I withheld the desire to roll my eyes regardless of how much I wanted to. This girl had no qualms about making herself at home in other people’s space. I sat down next to my grandma on her sleeping bag.

  Nora offered one of the collapsible cups to my grandmother. “I hope you don’t mind it’s just black,” she unnecessarily apologized. “I didn’t have any cream or sugar.”

  “No thank you, dear,” my grandma said. “I’m trying to cut back.”

  I could have predicted her response. It was in my grandmother’s nature to deny herself comforts and extravagances so others could enjoy them instead.

  Nora’s mouth quirked into a forced grin when she looked in my direction. “How about you, Samantha?” She put the collapsible cup within my reach. Her voice was annoyingly musical despite its lower register.

  “It’s Sam,” I mumbled. I didn’t want to accept this girl’s kindness because then I’d have to be
nice in return, but I seriously wanted that coffee. I accepted the coffee cup, careful not to let any of it spill as though it were precious material. I could immediately feel the heat radiating from the metal cup.

  “Mmm. It’s warm,” I grunted. I was aware that my conversation skills were lacking. I sounded like a caveman. It had been a long time since there had been anyone else to talk to besides my own family.

  I wrapped my hands around the cup and let it heat me up. The sensation jolted me. “Wait. How the hell is this warm?” I blurted out. We couldn’t build a fire this morning because of the wind. It was nearly impossible to start a fire with just flint and steel when the wind kept blowing away the sparks; it made more sense to seek shelter inside our tents and wait out the poor weather.

  “Language, Sam,” my grandmother scolded.

  “Sorry,” I grumbled. “How the heck is this warm?”

  “Oh, I heated it up on my solar-powered hot plate,” Nora announced. She smiled, clearly proud of herself. Her broad grin was both attractive and annoying.

  “Solar powered?” I echoed. “Sounds fancy.”

  Nora shrugged. “Not that fancy. I got it from Target.”

  “Oh.” First an air pump, then coffee, and now a solar-powered hot plate – I wondered what other gizmos this family had.

  "So where are you guys from?" Nora asked conversationally. She wrapped her hands tightly around the spare collapsible cup and blew across the open lid.

  “Williston, North Dakota,” my grandmother supplied as she continued to concentrate on her knitting.

  “Really? I don’t hear the accent,” Nora observed. “I’ve never been to North Dakota, but I have seen Fargo.”

  My grandma chuckled. “That movie did us no blessing. That's a Minnesotan accent. Not many people where we're from talk like that.”