Echoes of a Dying World (Book 1)

by Don M. Esquibel

The air lays thick with the offer in the air. She stares at her interlocked fingers, mulling over her decision. When she looks up, I'm surprised at the wetness in her eyes. "I turn 20 this November," she says. "If we're going to be sticking together, I better start working on the whole honesty thing."

  I grin. "Now you have the right idea." I clear my throat. "We're going to need to get you and Grace some gear before we head out. There's a sporting goods store a block down where we can get everything."

  "Lead the way, Captain," she salutes.

  I laugh dryly. "Captain Morgan? Never heard that one before," I say dryly.

  She looks at me sideways, eyes squinted. "Does it annoy you?" she asks. I don't reply, but the silence is a clear yes. She laughs, the first I've heard from her, and hearing it makes this all feel real: makes this all feel right. She's with us now. "Captain it is then," she says. For some reason, I don't find the title nearly as annoying coming from her lips.

  Chapter 6

  Disbelieving faces stare at me. Leon, Emily, Maya. Only Felix looks unfazed by my announcement. Lauren and Grace change in the break room, sorting through the new gear we took from the sporting goods store this morning. I'm glad I chose to do this without them present. The atmosphere in the room isn’t exactly welcoming.

  "Tell me you’re not serious," Leon says. He waits for me to contradict him. I don't. "Do you even remember last night? She pulled a gun on us, Moe! How could you possibly consider this?"

  The harshness in his voice grates on my nerves: I don’t need him to remind me of all that happened last night. "I remember just fine, it was my head it was aimed at."

  The admission is news to Emily, and she doesn’t take it well. "Wait, she pulled a gun on you?" she asks, heat rising to her cheeks. "You risk your lives to save them, and she does that shit? Why would you even invite them to stay here after that?"

  "She was scared out her mind Em," Felix says, coming to my aide. "Put yourself in her position. You think it's possible your judgment might be a little off after going through that?" She at least has the courtesy to look embarrassed. But it doesn't sway her. "Yeah, maybe...but that still doesn't mean we can trust her."

  "Exactly!" Leon agrees. "We're already stretched thin for supplies. Adding two more people is only going to make it worse."

  I knew this decision might become contentious. Already it's caused a seam among us, and we haven't even left the office yet. I need to fix it. I could still call it off, just pull Lauren to the side as I did this morning, and explain that I made a mistake. I'm sure she'd understand. At the very least she would pretend to. But I'm not willing to do that. I still believe offering them to join us was the right call. I just need to convince my friends of it as well.

  "Look, I understand why you might not want them with us," I start. "But it's like I said last night: if we turn our backs now, where does it end? We may have saved them a horrible fate, and yeah, they’re safe for the moment, but how long do honestly think they can last on their own? They have no family, no one to turn to. And despite what she said last night, there is no cabin outside the city they're trying to reach. They're alone. We have a chance to help them, and they can help us as well. Lauren is strong. Leon, Felix, you both saw it last night. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't mind having someone like that watching my back. You all have trusted the calls I've made since leaving the apartment...I'm just asking you to trust me one more time."

  Nobody speaks immediately after I finish, each of them picking over my words. A slight nod from Felix lets me know I have his support, but the rest I'm still unsure of. Emily stands, arms crossed, eyes downcast, unreadable. Maya fidgets nervously like she wishes to be removed from this discussion altogether. And Leon stares at me through narrowed brows, as if trying to piece together why I care so much about what happens to them. I wish I knew as well. A door opens from the back of the office, and a few seconds later Lauren and Grace emerge from the hallway, hiking packs strapped across their shoulders, ready to go. They pause just outside the circle we've formed in our debate. Grace shrinks behind Lauren, too shy to even make eye contact. Lauren's face betrays her unease, a fact not helped by the continued silence of our group.

  "Morgan says you'll be joining us?" Leon asks, his voice neutral.

  She looks to me uncertainly, and then back to Leon. "If that's alright," she says. Leon looks at her a long hard moment. And then a slight fissure of a grin flits across his face. "Yeah, it's alright. Just keep that revolver out of our faces, and I think we'll get along just fine."

  Lauren's laughs awkwardly, her cheeks tinged pink. "Deal."

  I bump Leon on the shoulder with my fist, a silent thank you for having my back. The subtle nod I get in return lets me know he understands. We're not a family as we step out into the early morning sunlight: we still have to earn that bond. But as I look over at Lauren, a small smile playing on her face, I believe we'll get there.

  In the hours since we've left the office, the mini-malls and fast food joints and other cornerstones of suburbia have all but disappeared. The streets aren’t deserted, but they are far better than those we traveled yesterday. Still we take no chances, keeping a tight perimeter and constantly staying on the lookout for threats. We stack ourselves as we walk: Lauren and I up front; Emily, Maya, and Grace in the middle; Leon and Felix at the rear. All of us are armed, even Grace. She carries a can of mace we took from the sporting goods store, Felix having shown her in detail how to use it before we left. Emily holds the baseball bat and a second can of mace. The .270 went to Maya, who assures us she knows how to handle it, having hunted since a young age with her father and older brother. Felix sticks to the crossbow, allowing Leon to carry the shotgun. Lauren and I each have the handguns we've carried since last night, and even though I hope I won't need it, the Glock holstered on my hip is a reassuring weight I'm glad to have.

  We arrive at the Waterton trailhead, the official start of the Colorado Trail, just past midday. We take the opportunity to rest, the hours of walking with weighted packs not yet something we're used to. That will change. I eat a Clif bar and sip out of my canteen while I consult the trail guide with Felix. There's still a lot of daylight left, and we both feel the need to distance ourselves from the city as best we can, especially these first few days. According to the guide, there’s good camping along Bear Creek some nine miles away. The place will give us the opportunity to refill our water and be in good position to launch tomorrow's hike.

  I hear a high-pitched scream and feel myself reaching for the Glock and turning around on instinct. I scan my surroundings, pausing when I see them. My hand releases its grip on the gun, my lungs exhale a slow breath, and I feel my mouth work itself into a smile. My nerves are running too high, mistaking the squeal of laughter for something sinister.

  Grace squirms on the ground, futilely trying to escape her sister who has her pinned down and relentlessly attacks her ribs. It's tickle torture at its finest. Grace laughs so hard Lauren has to periodically stop and let her catch her breath. As soon as she starts up again the laughter returns, its sound innocent and pure and far removed from everything gone wrong around us. It's infectious, rippling through the group, removing us briefly of our fear and anxiety as we watch the two of them. The smiles on my friend’s faces mirror my own and I feel that gap between us starting to shrink, the bond we need beginning to take root. An innocent laugh is infinitely more powerful than anything I could have said to sway them.

  Lauren eventually shows mercy and the two stagger to their feet, breathless from laughing too hard. Grace's smile falters when she sees me, even though I wear one too. "Sorry," she mumbles timidly. It's the first word she's spoken to me. I wish it weren't. She's still uncomfortable around us, still swathed in fear in the aftermath of her attack. It shows, and it spreads across the group. I need to cut it away. I can’t let it fester between us. I made the decision for them to join us, it's on me to do all I can to make her feel welcome.

  "Why are you sorry?" I ask. "Hearing
you laugh was definitely the best part of my day." Her cheeks flush, but she offers a small smile in return. It's a start. "You know I use to do that to my sister Emily all the time. I forgot how much fun it could be." I look to Emily whose eyes widen and feet shift, prepared to bolt. "Don't even think about it!" she warns. I turn back to Grace who looks back at me like she knows exactly what's about to happen. It's all the incentive I need.

  Emily tries to escape as I spring into action, but I move too quickly. I take her to the ground, pinning her arms above her head with one hand and using the other to attack her ribs and neck. She convulses with laughter, clenching her sides and moving her chin to protect herself. She's not alone in laughing, it erupts behind us, Grace's soprano standing out in particular. This is the key, I think: finding ways to keep the smiles on our faces. That's how we survive this.

  "God, you're an asshole," Emily says when I finally let her go. Maybe I am, but the smile on her face has yet to fade. "So I've been told," I reply, extending a hand and helping her to her feet.

  We head out soon after, more comfortable in our movements than earlier. The July sun shines bright and bold, its reflection like dancing coins over the surface of the South Platte River to our left. High above, a pair of big horned sheep stare down at us from the canyon wall. Felix says they’re common in this first segment of the trail, their habitat having long been protected by the state. I watch as they scramble further up the wall, wondering if they can sense that protection crumbling around them as hungry, two legged predators encroach upon their land.

  Patchwork camps litter the sides of the trail at intervals, smoke smoldering from their fires creating a thin haze as we pass. Paranoia eats away at me. The back of my neck tingles with tiny pinpricks as I feel the eyes of these camps on me, on our supplies. Some we pass seem alright, nodding their heads and offering brief smiles, not yet beaten down by all that's happened. But for every smile there are twice as many scowls—covetous eyes glaring at us through narrowed brows. Thankfully, the weapons we carry seem to be an effective deterrent. For now at least. The majority of those we pass though look lost. Defeated. You can see it in their slumped shoulders, in their brooding stares. Most of them won't last long, not when hope already drains from their bodies in rivulets.

  A couple hours into the trail we are waylaid by a trio of sleazy looking characters. They sit beside a single tent a few feet removed from the trail, a bottle of cheap whiskey making rounds between them. They stand as we approach.

  "Wouldn't happen to have some food you could spare would ya?" one of them slurs, his beady, bloodshot eyes assessing our packs.

  "Sorry, we don't," I reply curtly.

  "Really?" he drawls. "Seems like an awful lot of baggage not to have any food." His words are laced with hostility, and it sends a ripple of anger through me. He sees our supplies and thinks because we have so much more than he does, that we should feel obliged to help him. It's the same mentality of those who littered our intersections and sidewalks, flashing cardboard signs and looking for handouts instead of trying to better their lives, happy instead to leech off those of us who worked for a living.

  "I said we didn't have any to spare, and we don't." He looks pissed but spotting my hand resting on the holstered Glock, he doesn't push it. He steps away and plops back down on the side of the trail, muttering under his breath to his companions as we pass. Felix keeps an eye on them till they’re well out of sight.

  Despite everything, I have to admit the trail we walk is beautiful. The rolling hills and small mountains, the lush green of the forest, the wildflowers that dot the trail: all of it reminds me why I have always loved calling Colorado home. It has been too long since I've been immersed in nature like this. What's worse is what it took to bring me here. If the attacks hadn't happened I would be nearly home by now, landscape like this flicking past the window without me really seeing it. Technology had a way of speeding things up, making everything faster, quicker, more efficient. But it also made slowing down and catching your breath harder to come by, and that's the only time you can truly appreciate the beauty in your life. I know how hard things will soon become, and though I fear much of this new world, I also know it is not without its own silver linings.

  The elevation steadily rises and I swear my bag gets heavier with each step. Grace talks with Emily and Maya behind me, the thread of their conversation lost over my heavy breaths, but the occasional giggle escapes our young companion. It's a good sound. The smile on Lauren's face tells me she agrees. The ground mercifully levels out, the first real climb of the trail now past us. My legs are tired, my back sore, the strain of the day taking its toll on me.

  The sun sits low to the west when we finally reach Bear Creek. I pause, the scene before me stopping me in my tracks. We stand at the outskirts of a ramshackle tent city, a hundred strong at least. Homey sheep-herder tents, small two man set ups, lean-to's, and structures built from scavenged material pepper the banks and grass around the creek. I want no part of this.

  "What you think?" I ask as Felix approaches.

  "Fill up on water, put in another mile or two, and hope like hell we find somewhere more secluded than this," he says. We do just that. We fill our canteens first, leaving half of our gallon jugs empty. It's somewhat alarming realizing how quickly water can disappear, especially when hiking through tough terrain: yet another issue I've never had to think twice about before. It makes me glad we chose this route, knowing natural sources can be found throughout.

  We cross the bridge spanning the creek after topping off our jugs, waiting till we set up camp to treat the water. None of us want to be here any longer than necessary. Thankfully the creek has drawn most people to its banks, as we find ourselves alone after a mile or so. As an added precaution, we remove ourselves another half mile off the trail before setting up camp. With everyone pitching in it's not long before the tents are erected. As much we would welcome a fire we decide against it, deciding it best to remain as low-key as possible with so many people close by. For that same reason we decide against cooking, though I know a hot meal has to be on all our minds.

  We sprawl out in a circle, our packs acting as backrests as we eat a dinner of protein bars and nuts. Conversation picks up. Stifled laughs erupt into the night, most of which coming from the girls, Emily and Lauren in particular. Emily scoots behind Grace, braiding the long midnight hair she and her sister share. I mirror the smile on Emily's face as I watch them. To think, only this morning she wanted to send them packing. I'm just glad she gave them the chance I asked her to.

  "Hey, thanks for having my back this morning," I tell Leon as Felix leaves to pee. "You know, with Lauren and Grace joining us and everything."

  "It's what I do," he shrugs. He looks over at them now, a small grin on his face. "They seem to be getting along just fine at any rate. Definitely good people. That Grace is a sweetheart. And Lauren, she's tough as nails...I like her."

  "Yeah. Me too," I agree. Leon turns toward me, a quizzical look on his face. "What?" I ask.

  He smirks. "I can tell."

  "Tell what?" Felix asks, joining us once again.

  "Nothing," Leon says, though his eyes glint with laughter. "Just that Morgan really likes it out here."

  I don't push the subject with Felix here, but his words play in the back of my mind as night snuffs out the light around us and yawns erupt into the darkness. We decide on how we're going to keep watch, and agree to pair off with a rotating schedule of three hour shifts, ensuring we all get at least six hours’ sleep. Lauren and I will take the first watch, Leon and Emily the second, Felix and Maya the third. It's unanimously agreed to exempt Grace from the task.

  Lauren and I set up at the edge of camp, our backs leaning against the trunk of a thick tree. The zips and rustling from the tents soon die down and as the silence ensues, I realize I haven't experienced a quiet like this in a long time. You can't find this in a city, not even a place like Durango. No matter the hour engines of traveling cars sound in the di
stance, television broadcasts leak through open windows, footsteps and murmured conversations echo off asphalt and reach your ear, proof of the lives taking place around you. But not out here. Even though the creek behind us brims with people, you can't hear them as we sit cradled in our copse of trees and grass. We embrace it, each of us comfortable in the tranquil night.

  Lauren gets up at one point to do her business in the woods. She emerges from the blackness a couple minutes later and resumes her spot next to me. "Of all the things I thought I'd miss if the world ended, I never thought a toilet would be so high on my list," she says.

  I laugh at her candor. "At least we still have tissue...for a while at least," I respond.

  She groans and I laugh again at the sound. "God, that's going to be a horrible day when we run out."

  "Yes, it will," I agree. I think for a moment and then add: "Cold water."

  "Huh?"

  "Cold water," I repeat. "One thing I never thought I would miss so much: clean, ice-cold water is definitely a surprise."

  "Yeah, you're right. The warm plasticky taste from the water jugs doesn't really measure up, does it?"

  "Definitely not," I confirm.

  After another minute, "Mine and Grace's room back home," she says. "It was small and cramped, but I loved how it always smelled of flowers. Grace would bring them in: big yellow sunflowers, delicate little flowers with blue petals, roses, lavender. I have no clue where she found them all. But they were always there, and they were always beautiful."

  I smile, imagining such a room and find myself thinking of home. "Mrs. Patel, my old neighbor from back home, has a rose garden you can get lost in. Reds and yellows and whites. On warm summer nights, their scent would get carried on the breeze and drift through my open window. I know most guys might not like that, but I always did. That's why roses always remind me of home."

  "Sounds amazing," she smiles. "Kind of depressing though," she adds after a while. "Thinking of all these things, I mean."