Echoes of a Dying World (Book 1)

by Don M. Esquibel

  "My bad, man," he says quickly, already trying to escape back to the fire.

  "So are we just not going to talk about earlier?" I ask, stopping him in his tracks. I don't want to have this conversation with him, but it's one we need to have if we're going to cut the tension between us. An afternoon of it was more than enough. We can't afford to let it draw out along the trail. He lets out a long breath before setting down his pile and slowly turning to face me. I set down my own pile before we get into it. My eyes have adjusted enough to make out the contours of his face, the whites of his eyes which stare back at me.

  "How long have you known?" he asks. He speaks evenly. No preamble. No games. We've never had cause for either between us. I'm glad this is no different.

  "That I've known? Since after the first attack in Denver. But I've suspected it since her twelfth birthday."

  "The blanket?" he asks.

  "Yeah," I reply. It feels so surreal to finally admit this out loud: nine years is a long time not to mention anything. "How long have you known?"

  He doesn't hesitate in answering. "Since the day I met her," he says. It's not what I expected.

  "Since...Lee, you were like eight years old," I say. If he's telling the truth, and really there's no reason for him to lie, then he's been in love with Emily for nearly his entire life.

  He shrugs, splaying his hands out wide. "Yeah...I was." I struggle to wrap my head around this fact. How the hell did he manage to hold his feelings in so long? "Why haven't you ever said anything?" I ask.

  His head tilts to the side, face crinkled in confusion as if I should already know the answer. "You're my best friend, Moe. Always have been. I wouldn't have risked our friendship...not for anything."

  The truth behind his words hit like a punch to the stomach, leaving me feeling hollow inside. Emily is the girl he's always loved, always wanted, but would never allow himself to have. I know the man: even with the world crashing down around us and the truth finally out in the open, he still wouldn't say a word to her. All because he's been my best friend since 2nd grade, and out of loyalty to me, he would forgo the chance to be with the girl he's loved for most his life. But I've been his best friend since 2nd grade also, and owe him just as much loyalty. I'll be damned if I'm going to stand in his way anymore.

  "You're a better friend than I could have ever asked for, Lee," I say, finally finding my voice. "There's no risk involved between us. You're my best friend. Period. Nothing's going to change that."

  He doesn't reply immediately, carefully mulling over what I'm telling him. "So...you're ok with it?" he asks, voice uncertain.

  I smile, needing to lighten up the seriousness of the conversation. "Yeah Lee, I’m ok with it. Shit, especially with everything we're dealing with? You’ve got to grab onto the opportunities you're dealt and refuse to let them go because none of us know how many more we might get. You owe it to yourself to take a chance and see what might happen between you two. And for what it's worth, I think she feels the same."

  He watches me a long moment before his mouth lifts at the corners and he laughs out loud, erasing any lingering tension between us. "I’ve got to tell you, I didn't expect this talk to go down like this," he admits.

  I return his laugh. "Yeah, me either."

  His posture relaxes, and I can hear in his voice the smirk he wears. "So, does this mean I don't get one of those 'Big Brother' talks," he asks. "You know, telling me I better treat her right or you'll kick my ass?"

  "I think we can skip it smart ass," I say, failing to keep a straight face. "Besides, no need in telling you what you already know."

  "Fair enough," he replies. His voice turns serious once more. "And since we're clearing the air and everything, you know I didn't mean anything earlier, right? About Lauren and all?"

  "Yeah, I know," I assure him, embarrassed now at how hotly I reacted. But it did lead to this discussion, so I'll count it as a silver lining. "Definite overreaction on my part. I don't know why I got so defensive." He doesn't respond, but his face tells me he's holding something back. "We're clearing the air, Lee. You want to say something, say it."

  He looks over his shoulder as if checking to make sure we're still alone. "Bro, we both know why you got so defensive," he says, looking at me once again. "I know you Morgan: I can tell you like the girl."

  I shake my head, playing it off. "C'mon man, I barely know her. And even if I did, so what? I can't be dealing with trivial shit like that right now. Not with everything else we have to deal with."

  He lets out a breath of laughter as if I just said the dumbest thing he's ever heard. "I wouldn't call how you feel 'trivial shit', Moe. Yeah, we're dealing with some things right now, probably will be for the rest of our lives: that doesn't mean we should stop living them. You said it yourself—you've got to hold on to the opportunities you're dealt and refuse to let them go—how is this any different?"

  "It's completely different," I argue. "You and Emily have known each other forever. You've been in love with her just as long. Completely different."

  "Yeah Moe, think about that for a second," he says, voice turning serious once more. "I've been in love with her most my life...you have any idea how hard it's been not to say anything all these years? Talking with her, laughing with her, wanting nothing more than for us to be together. It's hard Moe. It's really fucking hard. Trust me when I tell you, you don't want to know what it's like."

  I open my mouth to reply but find I have no words. All the time I've suspected how Leon felt about Emily, I never gave much thought about how much it must have weighed on him. Until now.

  "Look, I'm not saying you should drop to one knee and pop the question," he jokes, trying to lighten the mood. I'm thankful he does. "I'm just saying it's alright if you like the girl. I know we just met her and that you don't know her very well and all that. But there's no magic number of days you need to know somebody before you fall for them, I know better than most. There's a spark between the two of you. You and I both know it. Don't snuff it out before it has a chance to catch. You'll regret it if you do."

  We return to the fire soon after, Leon's words still rattling around in my head. I sit next to Lauren, so close our legs brush against one another as they stretch toward the flames. Leon sits with Emily across from us, a smile on his face as her head tips back in laughter.

  "This might put me in a sugar coma, but these are just too damn good," Lauren tells me, sandwiching a flaming marshmallow. "You want half?" she offers.

  I catch Leon's eye across the way, his head nodding ever so slightly. I return it. Turning to Lauren now, the firelight framing her face and dancing in her eyes, I decide to stop thinking and see where this road might lead me. "Yeah," I say. "Sound's good to me."

  Chapter 8

  The Colorado Trail has been home to us for the past ten days now. Hard to believe it's been so brief. Already the modern world seems a distant memory to me. My world consists of dirt and trees and grass, one foot in front of the other, walking perpetually onward. My legs start stiff and sore each morning and end rubbery and exhausted each night. My back and shoulders fare no better, the weight of my pack for so many miles each day brutal on both. What I wouldn't give for a joint, and a long hot shower to wash away the dirt and grime and ease my tired muscles. I'd even settle for a couple painkillers and a long nap. We have a few bottles of the stuff, but none of us indulge, not for these minor aches and pains. Best to save them for when they're truly needed.

  At least our effort hasn't been wasted, tearing through over a hundred miles of trail since this all began, nearly a quarter of the way home. But while we've made good progress we've also put a serious dent in our supply of food. We considered trying to barter in Breckenridge earlier, the first town we've come across since leaving Denver, but ultimately decided against it. Even from a distance the barricade leading into town was daunting: two trash trucks parked nose to nose across the highway and manned by over a dozen men with rifles. Not worth the risk. Not yet anyway.


  Our time on the trail has brought us all closer, the awkward tension which hung over us those first couple days now gone. Lauren carries herself with a quiet strength and tenacity which has earned respect from all of us. She doesn't complain and is always the first to volunteer to help. I suspect it's her own way of proving herself, and it's not gone unnoticed. Grace herself helps in any way she can, always insisting she can handle whatever needs to be done. The timidness which once cloaked her recedes a little more each day, revealing glimpses of the sparkling personality underneath. The sound of her high soprano laugh is not uncommon as we hike, its sound often putting a smile on my face. Emily seems to have taken a real shine to her: she always did want a little sister.

  It's been hard, but for the most part, things couldn't have gone smoother since leaving Denver. The crowds which plagued the first section of the trail have all but disappeared. We're not fooled. We know there are others out here, but so far our encounters with them have been few and far between. Still, I get the feeling like something is brewing ahead of us—like all this time has been nothing more than a calm before the storm. I hope it's just paranoia, but I can't shake the thought that things have been too good: that something's bound to go wrong.

  We sit now around the fire, eating the makeshift stew that is our dinner. In an effort to stretch our food as long as possible, soups and stews have become a big part of our diet. None of us eat our fill anymore, but we at least have enough to keep the hunger pangs at bay. For now, at least. I take a bite, the tender rabbit meat and crunch of carrot reminding me how lucky we are to have Felix. Growing up, the little assholes we were, Leon and I always gave him a hard time about being a Boy Scout. He never cared though, smiling all the while as he continued the program till he earned the title of Eagle Scout our senior year.

  "Not bad for a nerdy Boy Scout huh?" he quipped earlier, showing off the rabbit and wild carrots he procured off trail while we hiked. I laughed at that, slapping him on the back. "Not bad at all, Chavo. I'm glad you didn't listen to your asshole friends growing up." He laughed as well, assuring me he never had any doubts about the program.

  After our bowls have been scraped clean, we lounge around the fire, sluggish after the warm meal. Despite the early hour, yawns already permeate the air and I find myself thankful I don't have first watch. I'm about to turn in when a noise reaches my ear from behind. Felix tenses across the fire from me and I know I didn't imagine it.

  "Shhh! Everyone quiet!" I hiss. An instant hush falls over us, the once warm and sleepy atmosphere now alert and frosty. I strain my ears, trying to decipher sounds apart from the crackling fire. Quiet, quiet, and then I hear it: the echo of a snapped stick and the shifting gait of footsteps heading toward our camp. As one, we circle around the far side of the fire, taking cover the best we can and drawing our weapons at the approaching threat. We wait, a collective breath held among us as the shuffling stills and quiets. My pulse picks up, adrenaline and nerves coursing through my veins. The silence stretches, and I grow more on edge with each passing second. Then I hear something, like the faintest whisper carried from just out of our field of vision. It helps me find my voice.

  "You have five weapons pointed at you!" I shout, voice ringing loud and clear into the night. "Step into the light with your hands up, or we open fire. You have five seconds." A cold edged moment passes, when we're not sure who or what is out there, or if we have weapons pointed right back at us. "Five!" I yell.

  They don't let me get to four before they holler back. "Please, don't shoot!" a male voice yells back. They're close. "We're unarmed. We're coming out now." Rustling, rustling, and then slowly their shapes take form. When they reach the edge of our camp and the firelight washes across their features, I have to take pause. I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't the ragged family of four standing before us. The man stands forward, trying his best to shield his wife and children with his thin frame. He looks to be in his late thirties, as does his wife behind him. They have two children with them: a girl roughly Grace's age and a boy maybe a year or two younger. Their clothes are battered, their faces dirty and forlorn. They don't look the least bit intimidating, yet none of us drop our weapons, keeping them low and ready.

  "Are you alone?" I ask.

  "Yes, sir," the man says. "It's just been us since the start of all this." A tremor of fear laces his words, genuine or not I can't tell.

  "Step closer to the fire and keep your hands where I can see them," I instruct. Slowly they draw closer till they stand at the fire's edge. "Spread out in a line facing us and leave your packs on the ground." They do so, and I see the children clearly for the first time. The fear on their faces and tears falling from their eyes nearly breaks my resolve. But there is no room for sympathy, not yet. I must wear this cold and unflinching mask till I'm sure they're not a threat to us, even if I hate myself for it.

  "Felix, make sure they're unarmed." He edges around the fire, crossbow held in front till he reaches them. He pats them down quickly before checking the two packs they carry. His search yields nothing which could be used as a weapon, other than a small hatchet and a Swiss Army Knife. He holds onto them and rejoins us on our side of the fire. "Keep an eye on them," I tell Leon. "Felix, on me." Felix and I enter the trees beyond our clearing. We move quietly—ears strained, flashlights sweeping across the forest floor for footprints, searching to the best of our ability for any signs of others. But after checking the circumference of our camp, we find nothing. We're not exactly marines, so I know it's possible we missed something, but for now we call it good.

  "All clear," I announce when we arrive back at the fire. "No traces of anyone else."

  "There is nobody else. We're alone," the man says.

  I eye him long and hard, trying to get a read on him. "Alright, you're alone. What do you want?" Something passes across his face too quick for me to make it out. Embarrassment? Resentment? Remorse? "You've got to have a damn good reason to sneak up on a camp in the middle of the night. Have to imagine there's some out there who would have shot first and asked questions later. So why even put yourselves in the situation to begin with?"

  He doesn't immediately answer, toeing the ground with his foot nervously. "We smelled the food," he finally says, unable to mask the shame in his voice. "We were at a campground in our RV when everything went black. We hardly had any food on us and it ran out quick. We've barely been able to scrape by ever since." He looks away the second his confession is over, no longer able to meet my gaze. I can feel my friend’s eyes burrowing into me, waiting for me to make the call. Felix said they would. I search their faces closely: the man, disgusted with himself and the fact that he’s been reduced to begging to feed his family; the wife, who looks close to tears, her posture broken, face defeated; and the boy and girl who looks as miserable as they are scared. Our ever shrinking supplies run through my head and I know how little we have to spare. But I also know I can't turn them away, not entirely.

  I holster my Glock, my friends mimicking my movement and lowering their weapons. "One night’s meal and one night’s stay. That's what I can offer. In the morning we go one way, you go the other. Agreed?" I ask.

  "Agreed," the man says immediately.

  We put some cans of soup to cook over the fire and I pass out some packages of peanut butter crackers as well, figuring they need the protein. They eat them in silence as the food cooks. After seeing their supplies, I understand the desperation that led them here. They have shit: a small tent, the hatchet and knife, a small pot and pan, some bandages and disinfectant spray, a half dozen plastic coke bottles for storing water, a couple books of matches, and worse of all they carry not a speck of food. Their dire straits make me that much more grateful we managed to get our hands on food and supplies before hitting the trail. We would be in just as rough of shape as they are if we hadn't. My gut twists, realizing we’re not that far off.

  The troubled look on the man's face never leaves, even as he thanks us half a dozen times at least.
He introduces himself as Eli and then continues on to introduce his wife, Jolene, and children, Mark and Cali. Once the food is served I attempt a conversation, feeling awkward sitting here silently as they eat. Especially when I’m still hungry myself.

  "You mentioned something about an RV earlier? Where are you from?" I ask

  "California," he says swallowing his first bite. "Small town about an hour south of San Francisco."

  "Damn, that's a long way from here," I say.

  "Yeah," he replies quietly. He slurps a couple more spoonfuls of soup. "Been planning this trip for years. Finally saved enough to do it...and then everything fell apart." I don't know what to say to that. I feel for the man. Trying to cross the state to get back to Durango is hard enough. I couldn't even imagine what it would take to get to California. I doubt it's even possible.

  "What are your plans now?" Felix asks. "Being so far from home and all."

  Eli seems to stiffen at the question. "Do what I have to do to keep my family alive," he says. "That's the long and short of it." A strangled sob issues from Jolene’s mouth at that. She looks to Eli, a painful look on her face. She shakes her head after a second before looking away. There's not much talking after that. Fortunately, the family finish eating quickly and shortly after erect their tent. They set it at the very edge of our camp, as if wanting to feel its protection, but still maintain their privacy.

  "Thank you, Morgan," Eli says as they prepare to sleep. "I truly appreciate everything you've done."

  "You're welcome," I say, extending my hand for him to shake. He looks at it a long moment, as if afraid to take it. Finally he grasps it, the shame returning once more to his face. After a quick pump, he lets go and turns toward the tent and his family. I turn toward my own tent, eager for the brief sleep I can get before my watch. Felix stops me before I make it there, Leon by his side.