“Were your parents in the city, too?” she asked, knowing my family never left the colony. We were all known as that weird cult that kept to itself.
“How much fuel do you have left for your generator?” I asked, trying to stay in charge.
“I have extra gas drums.” She paused. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”
A memory of that day when we were sitting in her kitchen as she bandaged me up flashed. She probably felt sorry for me because I was small, which in her mind meant I was defenseless. Back then I counted on presumptions like that to survive school unnoticed.
I ignored her question and focused on the bowl in front of me. Brown gravy, chunks of beef and potato, green beans, peas, and carrots. Smelled like stew; could have been dog food. Either way, it was nutrition. Kady scooped a spoonful into her mouth, and I waited for her to swallow. Since she’d used the same ladle for both our bowls, she couldn’t have had the opportunity to poison mine. Not that I really believed she would have, but I had to be careful.
As I ate a mouthful, the heat swarmed my body. For the first time, I realized I was cold and shivering.
“What happened to the world?” I asked.
She stared at me with her head tilted slightly. “You really have no idea, do you?”
“The government sent soldiers to arrest my stepfather.” Not exactly the truth, but as close as I wanted to tell her. “I fled to the shelter. When I came back out, everyone was gone.”
“There was an outbreak of the sickness in the town, and the CDC brought in soldiers to contain it,” she whispered and looked away. “You do know about the sickness, right?”
“We heard rumors. Radio reports.” My stepfather had disseminated information and chose to interpret much of what was happening.
“Started out as the flu. Then, an outbreak of rabies. People were urged to stay at home, but people got cabin fever and went to work, the grocery store, and the movies anyway.” Kady’s hands shook as she ate her meal. She was shell-shocked, and I shouldn’t push. At least not now.
“Have you checked your house?” I asked.
She shook her head, and I sensed fear in her eyes. I could have imagined it, but there seemed more to her story than what she’d told me. It made me think back to those men, and I wondered if they might be waiting for us outside in greater numbers. They would most certainly return better prepared. This shelter, while a luxury, was also a target. We couldn’t fortify it, and even if we had cameras set up in the yard, we couldn’t man them all the time with only two of us.
“You can wear my brother’s clothes until yours are dry.” Her voice turned soft. “And you might as well keep his clothes. I doubt he’s still alive.”
I nodded. I wanted to press my questions and get answers from her, but I’d get more if I built trust. I wandered over to the sleeping quarters where I counted one double bed tucked into a corner and one bunk bed tucked into the other. I also counted two wardrobes, and noted all of this in my notebook. I wondered how the rest of her family had died.
My hands were still shaking as I stood in front of the wardrobe by the bunk beds. A part of me wanted to curl up on the bed and lie there forever. When I read the Narnia books, they made me feel like a boy living in the wrong world. Now, I needed to feel the way Peter felt in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. As if this were the greatest adventure ever—as if I had finally been sent home.
But in my mind, I heard my stepfather’s words, reminding me that in the end, we would be turned into kings. Kings do not feel fear.
The wardrobe’s doors opened easily. Kady’s clothes were on one side, and her brother’s were pushed tightly to the opposite corner. He had dressed in jeans that were too big for him and long shirts with skateboard logos.
Unlike Peter, when I walked through the wardrobe, I would do so looking like a tool.
I put on a pair of sweat pants and a shirt that went just below my ass. I tied the pants tight and cut the legs so they could hang better. The shoulder straps for my machetes held the shirt tight. I threw the rucksack over one shoulder.
The mirror was hung by french cleats and sat a little loosely on the inside door. Catching a glimpse of myself, I chuckled at how ridiculous I looked. I pushed the mirror along the hooks. It slid out completely. This just might save my life.
When I left the bedroom, Kady was glancing at me with her lips curled in a smile. But spying the mirror, she stormed in front of me. Blocked my way to the hatch.
“Where do you think you’re going with that?”
With my shoulder, I pushed her aside, leaning the mirror gently against the wall at the bottom of the ladder. I considered the best way to use the mirror to see if anyone were waiting for me outside. Kady kept yelling that the mirror was important, and was asking how she was supposed to do her hair if I broke it. As I tried to ignore her, I couldn’t help but wonder if she really understood the old world wasn’t coming back. I couldn’t climb the ladder and hold the mirror. If I asked Kady to pass it to me, she’d just put it back.
My mom used to do this thing when she wanted my stepfather to do something he refused to do. She’d put her hand on the back of his head and look directly in his eyes. Her voice would turn soft, and she’d hold his gaze until he gave in. It was worth a shot.
I stood in front of Kady and placed my hand on the back of her head, but she flinched a little. My stepfather had never done that, and I wondered if I was doing it right. I stared into her eyes. In a low voice I said, “If those men are waiting for me outside, I have a chance of seeing them in the mirror. If they kill me, there’s nothing stopping them from killing you.”
Kady’s eyes widened. I wondered if she understood. I wasn’t sure how long I should stand there with my hand on her, so I awkwardly took it away. I gave her the mirror and started up the ladder. When I saw that she wasn’t leaving to return the mirror to her room, I climbed the rest of the ladder and gently opened the hatch just enough to peek outside.
Sunlight poured inside, blinding me with spots. I reached down for the mirror, and Kady handed it up to me. Ignoring my sun blindness, I threw open the hatch and lifted out the mirror. The area looked clear. Green fields, a big house. No gardens, no chicken coops. What was she planning to live on? I wondered as I handed Kady back the mirror.
“Do we have a plan?” her voice cracked and shook as if with fear.
She’s wondering if I’m coming back.
It had crossed my mind that once I was away, I should stay away. But if I did that, I would no doubt sentence Kady to death. I might as well have left her to the mercy of those men. No matter what, I was now responsible for her.
“Information,” I said flatly. “I’m going into town to see what exactly we’re dealing with.”
“How long will you be?”
I shrugged, as if that were an answer. Of course what she really wanted to know was how long should she wait before she started to worry? She was going to run out of power and food here, and if I didn’t come back, this fancy shelter would eventually be a fancy tomb. For her sake, if not my own, I would have to survive.
“People have changed,” she said, as though speaking to someone who didn’t understand English. “The sickness made them . . . different.”
“What’s waiting for us out there?”
She shrugged, but I couldn’t tell if it was from not knowing or not wanting to tell me. Either way, we had an understanding. She had no option but to trust me.
As I emerged from the hatch, I drew a machete.
“You can use the bike,” Kady called up. “It’s in the shed, in back of the house.”
I ignored her as my eyes adjusted to the light. There could be guns pointed right at me—though I had my doubts those men would have returned just yet. If they weren’t ready to kill, then they weren’t desperate enough and must have still had supplies.
The red sky on the horizon made me realize I’d never actually just looked at a sunrise. I stood still as I smelled a sweet-smellin
g breeze. I listened to the rustle of leaves each time the breeze rose. Without really knowing why, I wondered if my stepfather would be proud of how I had survived.
“Your job is to not get caught,” I recalled my stepfather telling me once when I was just seven years old. He had decked me out in camo and armed me with a kali stick—a three-foot bamboo rod used in martial-arts training.
We had been standing at the edge of the woods, enacting what would be the first of many times this scene would play out. I thought he was taking me on my first hunting trip, and I was so excited that he had finally included me.
“Samuel, he’s just a boy,” my mother had pleaded as a way to keep me from going. When he slapped her for it, I had felt some satisfaction. After all, being treated like a child was what kept me from advancing in the ranks.
Mornings like this, I usually spent rushing through the woods, trying to go in as deep as I could. I would have a fifteen-minute head start, and then Kyle and Zeke would be sent in after me. The first time seemed like a game of hide-and-seek—but little did I know what would happen when they found me.
I forced the memory to stop there. I refused to recall any more. Especially how much I would come to regret not being the kind of son who protected his mother. I refocused on my task. Survive. I kept my machetes drawn and my eyes peeled. Kady’s house was larger than most in the area, and her parents were richer because they weren’t farmers but scientists.
For a moment, I considered that there might be notes inside the house. Her dad might have left clues as to what had happened to the world around us. I would have to explore it when I got back.
Behind the house, I found the shed. Most farms in the area would have had wooden sheds made generations before, but this one was aluminum with what looked like an unbreakable padlock.
I gave the lock a tug, just out of frustration, and it popped open. Made sense it wasn’t scrambled since we lived in the middle of nowhere. Didn’t make sense they had it, unless there was a plan in place to hide something valuable in there. I imagined a scenario where the men forced Kady to unlock the shed before taking her into the woods to kill her. If my stepfather had kidnapped her, it’s what he would have done.
Slowly, I opened the door. But all I found inside was an Xmotos XB-21D dirt bike. Even though I didn’t have my driver’s license, riding dirt bikes in the country was a rite of passage. This was no different in my family, except that for us, it was for survival, not recreation.
In my notebook, I wrote what I found: three sets of helmets and four sets of Sixsixone Rage pressure suit bike armor—one large, two mediums, and a small. I assumed these were for Kady, her parents, and her brother. The whole family was taken care of. The armor strapped on the back but protected the chest, shoulders and stomach. I felt a little like Goldilocks choosing between the big, medium and small size. Unlike for Goldilocks, the medium fit me best and was slim enough to wear under my jacket. I should have worn the helmet, but I worried about it limiting my vision. That could have meant the difference between living and dying.
The bike was only half filled with fuel, and there were no gas canisters inside the shed. Kady had said there were extras, but I thought it might be better to find fuel in town and preserve what was here. Electricity was more important than the bike. If I couldn’t find gasoline in town, I probably could at one of the farms along the way. Either way, walking home would be better than having no generator.
Pulling the bike out of the shed, I decided to walk it out of the area for an hour before starting it so the noise wouldn’t alert the men that we’d returned.
Chapter Five
I’m getting back in shape, I told myself as I came to a stop where the dirt ended and the tarred road began. A dark shadow crossed the road where the trees filtered the sun from the path. From that point, the sun shone freely. Loon Lake Road was behind me, with pines and poplars spotting the hills on either side. All those great places where I could run and hide were what I was leaving. An open highway that led north to Clinton and south to Cache Creek was ahead of me.
Showered in the sunlight, I stood still, enjoying the heat as it prickled my skin. An odd sensation I hadn’t felt in thirty days. I kicked the bike starter, but nothing happened. I tried again, and the motor sputtered. My legs were sore and my heart pounded from the long walk. I had to try again. With a grunt, I gave it a good kick, and the engine roared to life. Gray smoke burst from it before it ran clean. I hoped the sound would lead anyone nearby toward me and away from Kady.
I pointed the bike north and sped along the twisting highway. I had to weave back and forth to avoid potholes. An end to government was an end to services. No more roadwork after the winter months.
As I rode the bike, warm air blew from the rolling brown hills, brushing my face and hair. Without electricity, much of the farmland had dried up from no irrigation. Along the way, I found many boarded-up roadside stops, and the houses, ones that had looked abandoned even before the Fall, now reminded me I’d have no shortage of junk to scavenge. Long before the apocalypse, the North had been closing up fast with the end of pulp mills.
My thoughts drifted to Kady, and what I’d done by rescuing her. We could pool together our stuff, so it wasn’t as if she’d be sponging off me. Having another voice to hear besides my own would help my chances of survival—even if she just kept me from going crazy. But I was taking on a baby. A child. Someone who had spent her life learning cheers instead of survival. When she risked her popularity to bandage my wounds, she had proved to me that she wasn’t vacuous and she didn’t think first of herself. For now, if we were attacked, it wouldn’t be two on my side—instead I’d be fighting for two. She’d rely on my ability to get water, hunt for food, and, when it became necessary, maybe even kill. Those men would be back. I could train her to be a warrior and a hunter like me.
Ahead I saw the gas station and, just beyond that, the historic frontier-style buildings. The silhouette of a body hanging from the canopy of the station stopped me from blazing down the highway. I left the bike running as I climbed off it. It could have been just someone who had committed suicide because they couldn’t handle how the world had changed. Or it could have been that someone was trying to send a message—someone who was watching me right then.
Just to be safe, I drew my machetes.
Suddenly, I was aware of the crunch of stones beneath my feet as I listened for anyone inside the gas station. A wind I hadn’t noticed before whistled in my ears, making it harder to hear anything. I took small, careful steps. I approached the glass door of the kiosk, which was slightly ajar, and ducked beneath an ice machine to stay covered from the window. Either someone was still inside, or they’d left in too much of a hurry to close the door properly.
The glass was so dusty and the station was so dark inside that peering through was nearly impossible. I could tell that the aisles had shelving so high several people could have been hiding there. Using the tip of my machete, I carefully pushed the door open. A bell dinged and sent me jumping back.
I waited to see if anyone stirred inside. When no one did, I stepped through the doorway.
My eyes adjusted quickly, and I recoiled from a stench like rotting meat. My guess was that, without electricity, whatever sandwiches were in the fridges had spoiled. I walked around to check the aisles. Empty. Nothing even on the shelves, except a layer of dust. No impressions left in the dust, so I knew the place had been stripped clean long before.
Others had scavenged anything of value here long before I arrived, so I headed back outside. The wind brushed the dirt from the road, dusting my boots. I imagined an old western, as though I were a drifter told to just pass on through. Reminded me of the book Shane—but I was far from a retired gunslinger. I hadn’t wandered into the old western town looking for peace, but rather steeled for battle. I breathed deeply of this freedom and drew my second machete. Today had different rules.
Who was this man outside? The canopy that the rope was attached to creake
d as he swayed in the breeze. Did he try to protect himself, or had fear seeped into his soul with no one left to save him?
“Were you looted first, or did they come after you killed yourse—?”
When the wind spun his body a little, I stopped talking. His head was twisted to the side, and his face turned toward me. He had a bullet hole through his left eye. Nothing around that he could have climbed on to get that high. Someone had killed him. Maybe they hanged him, and then couldn’t watch him suffer, so they shot him. When his body had spun enough that his chest faced me, I saw a sign around his neck. It read, In the Land of the Blind.
“The One-Eyed Man is King,” I whispered, finishing my stepfather’s favorite quote. He said it so often, and with such vigor, that I could never forget it.
This wasn’t summer break. I had an enemy. One who might have been close. I couldn’t see any cluster of trees where I could camouflage the bike, so I propped it against the side of the gas station and hoped it looked abandoned. If I hid it out in the open, it might work as a quick getaway should I find myself not alone.
The road was still my best path, even though taking it might expose me more. But there could be traps in the fields, or worse, people waiting. What I needed to do was climb the first building along Cariboo Highway and see if I couldn’t jump between roofs. I chuckled as I reminded myself the apocalypse hadn’t turned me into Batman.
As I entered a strip of buildings, I refocused on what was before me. North Road Trading Post was my best bet for supplies. Also, if anyone else were alive, chances were that would be where they’d holed up. I stepped carefully past abandoned cars and trucks, noting that most had broken windows and flat tires. None had been stripped. That could be good news for me. If they all still had gasoline, we could use Kady’s generator for some time.
The quiet would have been more jarring if I had been from a big city. Small towns were always serene, which was why people stayed. And why they left. I felt safe for the first time walking these streets. The danger that might have been lurking in shadows was nothing compared to what once walked in the light. I recalled coming into the town one time after school, just to see what it was like. My stepfather forbade this. It would draw attention to my family.
Children of Ruin Page 3
