Grants Pass

by Cherie Priest

  “Really? After your dad’s old job?” Jimmy’s smile got even worse. “Why don’t you just hit the road?”

  “Our family is supposed to pick up the supplies.”

  “Look, kid,” Jimmy said sternly, no longer smiling. “You don’t need to get anything. Now, beat it. All right?” Jimmy then turned away and started to step back into his truck.

  Brett reached deep into his pocket. It didn’t take me long to figure out what he was pulling out.

  “Brett, no!” I shouted.

  It was too late. My brother had Father’s pistol in his hand and fired off three rounds. The first one ruptured a cone of blood out of Jimmy’s leg. The man tried to turn and draw his own weapon, but then the second bullet landed in his chest. The third bullet hit Jimmy right between his eyes, letting loose a small stream of crimson.

  “What are you doing?” I shouted, feeling my breathing quicken. “What did you just do?”

  “Just hold on a minute, Ryan,” Brett responded calmly, holding a hand up in the air. He stuck our father’s gun into his waist belt with his other hand.

  “No! You just killed Jimmy! Do you know what you just did?”

  “I know exactly what I did! Jimmy deserved it!”

  “Not Jimmy! He was our friend. He was Dad’s friend.”

  “No he wasn’t! He killed our father, Ryan! Dad is dead. It’s just us now! The Ravens betrayed him. It’s just me and you left.”

  “What? That’s not true!”

  “Yes it is. You have to believe me. That’s why Dad isn’t with us right now. He was killed last night. He wanted to take his own supplies and take off. We were going to go someplace safer. People are fighting here, and he didn’t want us to be in danger. He was trying to protect us.”

  “What are we going to do?” I gasped. I felt a rain of tears come out with every word.

  “You are going to get into my truck and drive to the bridge. There are no more deliveries today, so there won’t be anybody crossing it.” He started to walk towards Jimmy’s truck. “Though, to be safe, park under the overhang.”

  “But—”

  “No, Ryan, you have to do this. My truck is an automatic, so you’ll be able to drive it. It’s just like when dad used to let you drive the car up at camp. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I said meekly.

  “I’ll be back soon, so don’t worry,” he said. He lingered a moment, as if trying to make a big decision. Then, he simply nodded, and hopped into Jimmy’s truck. I saw him drive off into the distance. I sat for a moment, fighting off an army of tears. I wasn’t as strong as my brother. He was both older and braver. I could only hope to grow up to be as courageous as he was.

  ****

  A few minutes later, I was driving myself to the bridge.

  It took Brett two hours to get to the bridge. I was close to having an asthma attack waiting for him. At first I thought he could have been another Raven, since he was driving Jimmy’s truck. But he was shouting my name as he drove up next to me, so I stopped worrying.

  “Ryan, are you ok?” he asked when he finally pulled up along side me.

  “Yeah,” I replied.

  I then gave my brother a quick look-over. He was splattered with patches of blood. I wasn’t sure how much of it was his. He had a bandage over his left forearm that was soaked red. I found myself staring at it for a moment.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “The bullet only grazed me. I was able to stop the bleeding.”

  “What did you do?” I asked, wide-eyed.

  “Something for Dad,” he said simply. “Now, quickly. We’re going to siphon the gas out of that truck. I have a few extra cans in the back. It’s more efficient to only take one vehicle.”

  I nodded my head and climbed out of my vehicle. As I dug the can out of the back of Jimmy’s truck, I realized that we had a lot more supplies than before. Brett had almost quadrupled our stock.

  The two of us canned the gasoline and threw it into the back. I crawled into the passenger’s seat.

  “You ready?”

  “I suppose so,” I said, almost a whisper. “Where are we going?”

  “Away from here,” he gave me a weak smile. “Don’t worry. I’m going to take care of you.” He reached into the glove compartment and took out another cigar. He put it into his mouth, lit it, and drove across the bridge and into the beyond.

  ****

  “Did you grab our stuff?” I asked after thirty minutes of driving.

  “Yeah, I took everything that was in the tent,” Brett replied.

  “Including my books?”

  “What were they in?”

  “The brown chest, the one that Dad made for us to keep our toys in.”

  “That thing was full of books? No wonder it was so heavy. I thought it was more weapons.”

  “No, just my books. But I like my books, Brett.”

  “I don’t understand that. I never liked to read. There were always a thousand better things to do.”

  “It was just good to get away sometimes.”

  “Away from what?”

  “Everything.”

  “You believe a book can make the world disappear?” Brett asked, half-sarcastically. He noticed me frowning at the statement and instantly changed his tone. “I guess they could. Like I said, I was never much of a reader, so I wouldn’t know. I’ll tell you what: I’ll make sure I trade for any books I see along to way.”

  “Ok, Brett,” I smiled. “That sounds good to me.”

  ****

  We journeyed for a good two weeks before seeing another person. It was an old man, riding in a broken down jeep. The vehicle seemed to have lost all of its suspension, as it bounced like a jack-in-the-box with every bump. Brett had me lean out the side of the truck to wave the geezer down.

  “Hello,” the old man greeted us as the vehicles pulled side by side.

  “Hi,” Brett replied. “Are you willing to trade?”

  “Certainly. That is, if you have something that suits my fancy. Can I see your stock?”

  Brett nodded and got out of the truck. I noticed that he still had the pistol in his belt. The old man also got out of his vehicle, following Brett to the truck’s bed. Brett waved to me to stay in the passenger’s seat.

  I couldn’t understand what the two of them were talking about. They were discussing something intimately. Brett seemed really excited about it, but I couldn’t tell what they were talking about. Unfortunately, the excited motions had stopped by the time I had the guts to roll down the window.

  “You have a nice stock,” the old man said. “Is it just the two of you?”

  “Yeah, for now,” Brett replied. “What are you interested in trading?”

  “Well,” the old man started, licking his lips. “I think I’ll take the whole lot.”

  “What? What do you have? Gold?”

  “I have this!” The old man was now holding a gun to my brother’s cheek. “Your truck is a lot better equipped than mine. I think I’ll just take it. Now, hand over the keys or I’ll be forced to take them myself.”

  “Shut it, old man. You’re not taking anything.”

  “Really now?” the man asked. There was a click as he pulled back the hammer.

  My brother amazed me. He looked right into the eyes of the old man without flinching. He was a lot braver than I was. Then, with astonishing reflexes, he knocked the gun away from the old man’s grip. In an instant my brother had our father’s pistol in his hand and fired twice into the old man’s chest.

  I swear I could see a tear in my brother’s eye as he walked back to the car.

  ****

  We set up camp right by the two vehicles. Brett rummaged through the old man’s supplies. It was mostly ammunition and alcohol. We had enough stuff to feed a group of ten for three months, and I didn’t think Brett found a scrap of anything edible in the old man’s truck.

  I lit the fire and Brett cooked dinner. The two of us ate in silence. After dinner, we continued to sit quietly. There h
ad been very few words spoken between us in the last two weeks. It had been as if Brett was in a different place. His eyes would look forward, but I knew his mind was elsewhere.

  I tried reading to pass the time, but even the tales of dragons and elves weren’t able to distract me. This world just seemed cold, and it seemed to be affecting Brett.

  After looking into the fire for an hour, Brett dug for another cigar. He realized that he had left them in the truck, and decided he was too lazy to get up for them. Instead, he took a bottle of whiskey from the crate he was sitting on. He wordlessly began to drink straight from the container. It wasn’t for another half hour, after Brett was a little woozy, that I had the courage to speak.

  “What are we going to do, Brett?” I asked, hardly loud enough for him to hear me.

  “I’m going to take care of you, little brother,” he said, slightly slurring the words. I don’t think he’d ever had much to drink before.

  “I mean, where are we going to go?”

  “Oh, I do know that one. We’re going to Grants Pass.”

  “Where?”

  “It’s about a hundred miles north of here. The old man told me about it. Supposedly, there is a gathering there. It’s supposed to be a safe haven.”

  “We’re going to join with other people?”

  “No, no, Ryan. We’re not going to join the people in Grants Pass. We’re going to get supplies from them.”

  “How? What are we going to trade them? I can drive the jeep if you need me to. We could surely trade it.”

  “No, that won’t be necessary. We are just going to take the supplies we need.”

  “Take? Like from the old man?”

  “Yes.”

  “But, what if they are willing to trade?”

  “That doesn’t happen anymore, Ryan. We’re the only good people left in the world. It’s just going to be me and you. But, we’ll need to get more supplies if we’re going to survive all of this. We just need to stay strong until things get better.” He looked at the bottle in his hand. He had drunk nearly half of it. Satisfied, he corked it and set it down beside him. “Now we should get some sleep. We’re going to leave early tomorrow morning.”

  ****

  We left before the sun rose the next day. Brett was already packing up the truck before I woke up. I was only awake for five minutes before I was back in the passenger’s seat and we were driving away.

  “What were you reading last night?” Brett asked, after driving an hour in silence.

  “What?” I asked. I had been completely absorbed in the landscape around us.

  “The book,” he replied, “which one was it?”

  “It’s a fantasy story. It’s called The Griffin Rider. The story is about a boy who finds the last griffin in the world.”

  “What does he do with it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, he found the last griffin in world. That means it’s extremely rare. He could sell it for millions of dollars. They’re big creatures, so he could even train it to defend him. He could do anything with it. So, I’m wondering, what did he do with it?”

  “He befriended it.”

  “Oh,” Brett said, and he drove on.

  ****

  It wasn’t before long that we saw a car in front of us. It was an actual car, a small sedan of some Japanese make. Once again, I was told to wave down the car.

  The vehicles were soon stopped with our truck parked right behind the car. My brother pulled out my father’s gun. He checked the magazine, making sure there was a full clip. He then put the gun back together and shoved it into his waist belt.

  “Hello,” called out the driver.

  “Hello there,” my brother called back, approaching the car. I was leaning out the window, watching what was going on.

  “Are you interesting in trading?”

  “That depends, are you going to Grants Pass?”

  “Sure am. I’d be daft if I wasn’t. It’s supposed to be the only safe haven.”

  “Really now?” my brother asked. “That’s too bad you won’t get there.”

  Brett pulled out the pistol and fired into the window. I could see the flashes bounce off the inside of the car and the driver twitch as the bullets pierced him. My brother fired until there was blood splattered on the windshield, and finally shoved the gun back into his belt.

  “Come on, Ryan,” he shouted, starting to walk back to the car. “Let’s see what he had in his trunk.”

  But, before I could even put my hand on the handle, the backdoor of the car swung open. It smashed right into Brett’s legs, knocking him to the ground. I could see a man get out of the backseat. He must have been resting under a blanket, for a blue cloth fell off of him as he stood up. The man was wielding a shotgun.

  It took the man the same amount of time to cock the gun as it did for Brett ready his weapon. I saw both go off. A splash of blood flew out of the man’s back, right behind his heart. He started to fall. Brett, however, got a more gruesome wound. The man had been aiming for his face, and he had aimed true.

  My eyes snapped shut at the sight of my brother. He was dead, instantly killed by the shot. There was no doubting that.

  There was nobody left but me along the road. There was nobody else alive. There was nobody to protect me.

  I could do nothing but curl up in the seat of the truck.

  ****

  “Kid?” It was the first word I heard as I woke up.

  “Wha—?” I started. I couldn’t finish the sentence. Realistically, I couldn’t even identify where I was.

  “Kid, are you okay?” My eyes focused on the speaker. It was a woman. She seemed middle-aged, and it looked like she had been walking for hundreds of miles.

  “Kid, are you okay?” she asked again.

  I shook my head. I remembered what happened now. My father and my brother were dead. I was far from ‘okay’.

  “What happened here?” the lady continued. I noticed that there were a few other people behind her. They were investigating the bodies.

  “They shot each other,” I said quietly.

  “Did you know any of them?”

  “Yes, my brother.”

  “Oh, god,” she stammered, stepping back a little. “I’m sorry. Do you have any other family?”

  “No, my father is dead.”

  “What about your mother?”

  “I never knew her.” I could feel tears start to well up.

  “Well, kid, do you have a name?”

  “Yeah, Ryan.”

  “Well, Ryan, I think you’d better come with us.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To Grants Pass. It’s one of the few safe havens in the States.” Then, the lady’s face switched to a frown. “Or at least what used to be the States.”

  I sat in silence for a few moments, pondering it all over. I made my decision in only a few seconds.

  “All right,” I replied. “Just let me say goodbye to my brother first.”

  As I walked over to my brother’s corpse, the group of adults was already starting to take supplies from our truck. I leaned over Brett. I let a few of my tears fall into his body. I knew he had only wanted to protect me. He wanted to try and take my father’s place, and now I had neither of them.

  I noticed the pistol lying next to his hand. Without thinking I shoved it into my waist belt.

  “Carrie,” shouted one of the men rummaging around the truck. “Look what I found!” The man held my book, The Griffin Rider, in his hand.

  “Literature will be worth a lot soon,” Carrie nodded. “Put it in the safe.”

  “I found a few others, too.”

  “Put them all in.”

  “Those are mine,” I stated, standing up.

  “Sorry, kid,” the lady said. She frowned as she spoke. “I’ve got a theory that things like books are going to be quite valuable soon, whether fiction or non-fiction. I don’t want them to get destroyed.”

  “But, my father bo
ught them for me.”

  “I’m sure he did, but there are better uses for the books. You will see what I mean later.”

  “I want my books back.”

  “Kid, that’s not going to happen.”

  “I want my books!” I yelled. Before I knew it, my father’s pistol was in my hand. I fired off the last of the bullets. I saw the lady and the other adults collapse to the ground. The man with my book was the last one to fall.

  Silently, I shoved the pistol into my belt, just like Brett would have done.

  Once again I was alone. Though, this time, I knew no one was going to protect me.

  Hopefully I would be able to get one of the cars to start, but that was a concern for later. I made my way over to the man’s body. He was staring into the air with open eyes, a small stream of blood flowing out of his chest. I ripped my book from his fingers, wiped the blood from the cover, and started to read the precious words. I would go to Grants Pass like Brett wanted me to, but for now, I needed to escape.

  Brett was right: I was one of the few good people left in the world.

  Biography

  Scott Almes

  Scott Almes currently resides at the University of Pittsburgh underneath a stack of calculus and physics books, trying his hardest to get a degree in mechanical engineering. When he’s not trying to learn the mysteries of gravity and flux, he enjoys movies and reading.

  Generally, he prefers his books smart and to lead him to places that he’s never been, but his movies simple enough to give his mind a break. He also thoroughly enjoys the suburban equivalents of adventuring, even if it means a backyard campfire, a simple trip to his friend’s cabin, or an 80 mile journey to the nearest IHOP. He has been told that he has the ability to find humor in whatever life throws at him, and he agrees with that statement.

  Afterword

  I wrote this piece to explore how younger people might react to an apocalypse. In this story, there are two boys. The main character is too young to be left alone, and his brother is just of an age where normally, he’d be looking to start his own life. This story is a thought experiment imagining how these two boys would react to the world changing at such a critical point in their lives.