Echoes of a Dying World (Book 1)

by Don M. Esquibel

  A strangled laugh escapes her as she retells the story, its sound welcome amid our mourning. "First words she ever said to me," she continues. "No introduction, no 'hi how are you', just a cry for help and a bribe. I loved her from the start."

  I find my mouth curling into a smile at her words, at the affection in her voice. "What happened?" I ask. "When her roommate showed up?"

  She laughs again. "Took a leaf from Maya's book and bribed her. Apparently my assigned dorm was prime real estate: better parking, closer to the cafeteria and library. It didn't take much convincing."

  It's a good story, one I hadn't heard before. Hearing it now makes me think of all those little moments in life—all the chance encounters and near collisions. All the millisecond choices we never think twice about. All just tiny ripples we create in our wake through life, never even realizing it till we look back and see it bloom and flower outward, further and further, till finally it breaks apart by its own expanse, absorbed back into the waters that make up who we are; and where it will remain, part of our tides and swells and waves, until the day we die.

  "Life's a funny thing," my father says. Even before the collapse it was one of his favorite sayings. I remember asking him once what he meant by it. He just smiled and shook his head, telling me I would understand one day. "Once you get a little more life under your fingernails," he said. "I wouldn't worry about it till then."

  I understand him now more than ever. Emily moves into her assigned dorm and maybe she and Maya never meet, never become best friends, and we don't stand around an open grave, mourning the death of someone we love. The terrorist's strike a weekend earlier and Leon, Felix, and I are not in Denver at the time; we never lead Emily and Maya out of the apartment, never meet Lauren and Grace, and none of our lives pan out as they have. The scenarios are many, the repercussions endless. To think of the hundreds and thousands of variables—all the gaps and pauses and stutters that go into creating any given moment is mind boggling. It's one of those things were to think too much on it can drive you crazy. It's much easier to say life's a funny thing, and leave it at that.

  "Yeah, it is," Emily agrees.

  We grow quiet once again, sniffles and repressed sobs the only sounds among the sighing wind. "Should we say a eulogy?" Felix asks, breaking the silence. Nobody seems eager to do so. I look to Emily who meets my eyes and shakes her head slightly. I understand: she's not ready to say goodbye. I'm not either, but someone needs to speak.

  "I don't think much needs to be said that we don't know already," I say after a moment. "All of us who knew her, loved her. She was an amazing person: kind and brave and loyal. All our lives were bettered by her presence in them...I know mine was. She didn't deserve the end she got, but she died protecting me, because during the last two months we became family. And family above all else is what mattered most to her."

  I pause, fighting through the sob building in my chest. Talking of her, realizing these are the final moments before the grave is filled and all that will remain of her is our memories, is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. It's not easy letting go.

  "Maya, I know you're up there right now watching this. You probably have a thermos full of the richest, blackest coffee you could find, and a big slice of cherry pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top. I hope you found out what happened to your family back east, and that you know your family here still loves you. I hope it's beautiful up there, and that you find the kind of peace you deserve. I'm alive because of your sacrifice, and not a day will go by I will not remember it. Thank you. It was truly an honor to have been your friend. Though I wish you were here, I feel safer already knowing we have a guardian angel like you watching over us. This isn't goodbye, because I know in my heart I will see you again. So keep an eye open. Because when that day comes, I expect a cup and a slice and a recount of all the wild adventures you've been on. Until then my friend...until then."

  The dawn has finally broke, the first rays of sun stretching out and cradling us in its warmth. Above, the leaves of the beech tree shimmer, almost gold in the early morning light. The wind shifts and I swear the lightest of touches lands upon my brow, like a whispered promise on feather-soft lips, at the same time the faintest note of laughter reaches my ear among the wind's weeping. I knew she was watching.

  I wipe the tears from my eyes as I look out at the rising sun. Mine and Leon's parents depart back inside, leaving us who knew her best alone. Together we fill in the grave as the sun gains elevation in the sky. When the grave is filled, we stand there a moment longer, knowing once we leave things will be different. I'm not ready for it. But then again, I've been ready for little since this all began. As I did then, I take a deep breath and step away into the unknown, my friends following at my back.

  Chapter 29

  I wake up in tears, last night's horrific events playing back to me in my sleep. My head lays cradled in Lauren’s lap as she strokes my hair, and I unravel against her. An aching pressure builds, from behind my leaking eyes through the back of my skull. My body is heavy, my limbs like lead. I feel weak. Pathetic. I should be stronger than this. For once, I was the last to wake, leaving Lauren and I alone in the commandeered bedroom. I don't know how long I've been out. From the brightness outside it must be well into the afternoon. I should get up. Face the day. But I struggle to find the energy to move. And worse, I struggle to find the courage to.

  It is a cruel irony. For months I've yearned for nothing more than to reunite with my family—to see their faces, hear their voices, wrap my arms around them—solid and firm and real. Now all that separates us is a closed door and flight of stairs, yet I'm too much of a coward to face them.

  "Don't know what the hell you were thinking, Vincent!"

  "He's family, dad. I couldn't just watch and do nothing."

  "What about Julia? Is she not family? Did you even consider the consequences your actions might have if they figure out it was you?"

  "William, please! Calm yourself."

  "Easy to say when your children are safe, Marie."

  I replay the argument we walked in on after leaving Maya's grave. In the kitchen, my parents stood in a small circle with my Uncle Will, Vince, and Richard, our arrival abruptly ceasing their argument, but doing nothing to warm the chill that had descended upon the room. My uncle turned to me, his eyes like chips of ice—a coldness I’ve never known from him. He was always so laid back, easy, the kind of man who greeted everyone with a smile and meant it. These months seem to have robbed him of that smile.

  "Is everything alright?" I asked, at a loss for anything else to say.

  "Of course, Morgan," my mother answered immediately, her smile not reaching her eyes. "You all must be exhausted though. Why don't you head upstairs and try and get some sleep?" I could tell everything was not alright, but she was right about one thing: I was as exhausted as I had ever been. So I didn't argue, just nodded and followed her upstairs to the bedroom I now hide in.

  Eventually my sobs subside and my breathing evens. Still I lay here, trying to block out everything but the feel of Lauren's hand weaving through my hair. But I can't hide in here forever, and I know my time's nearly up. With a grunt, I straighten myself into a sitting position beside her. I stare at the wall in front of me, not wanting her to see the shame in my eyes.

  "Thank you for staying...you have no idea how much it helped." My voice is rough as sandpaper, my throat just as dry. Her hand laces through mine. "You wouldn't have left me," she says.

  I clear my throat. "Everyone downstairs?"

  She nods. "Yeah. They went down about an hour ago."

  "We should probably join them," I say. She squeezes my hand and kisses the inside of my wrist. "I won’t leave your side." I wipe my face the best I can, but I know I must look like shit. Not that it matters. What place does vanity have after last night? I climb out the bed and cross the room. At the door I pause, trying to summon the courage to open it. I find it in the squeeze of her hand.

  We
find everyone in the living room, over twenty in number. Most are family, though there are a handful of unfamiliar faces. As we enter, I pick up on the unease immediately. It's in the tight-lipped smiles. The hushed voices. The air is stiff too stiff, too dour, charged with an underlying tension. It’s a far cry from the reunion I expected. Then again, I always expected Maya to be part of it, so maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised.

  "Morgan!" my Aunt Virginia cries out when she sees me. She stands and is across the room in no time, wrapping me up in a hug. In her embrace I feel the tension lessen, and I wrap my arms around her tight. My mom's elder sister by a decade, she was always my favorite of all my aunts and uncles. When she pulls away her eyes are pooled with tears. "It's so wonderful to see you, sweetie," she says. "I didn't know you were here till this morning. I'm so sorry about your friend. I swear I don't know what to make of this world anymore."

  I swallow the lump in my throat. "That makes two of us, Aunt Virginia," I admit. "But it's great to see you too." I make my rounds around the room, greeting those I've yearned to see for so long. When they ask of Lauren, I introduce her as my girlfriend though the word feels odd on my tongue. On the trail we were just together, no need for labels. Calling her my girlfriend now doesn't seem an adequate title for what she means to me. But for lack of a better alternative, I suppose it will have to do. We find two open stools beside the love seat where Leon and Emily sit, Grace sandwiched between them. Felix stands beside the sliding glass door, overlooking the backyard. He forces a smile my way, but his bloodshot eyes show how much he’s still hurting.

  The eyes of the room press in on me like a wall of heat. I scan the faces, mentally ticking them off, seeing if I can place any missing who should be here. I reach my Uncle Will, his face a shifting pattern of emotions—pain, worry, anger—his eyes now not so much cold, as they are lost. I replay the argument we walked in on, recalling what he said about his daughter, Julia. A month younger than Emily, the two were inseparable growing up. It’s then that I notice her absence.

  "I get the feeling something's going on and nobody's told me yet," I say.

  A mocking laugh answers me. "Clever as ever, aren't you Morgan?" Jenna, my Aunt Virginia and Uncle Cliff's daughter. At twenty-six, she's the eldest of my cousins. To say we've never got along well would be an understatement. She always thought herself above the rest of us, and I always called her out on it. Still, I had hoped we could put our past behind us with the world the way it is. But her tone isn't encouraging.

  "Jenna, please," Aunt Virginia warns.

  Jenna turns on her mother. "He should know what his little stunt last night might cost us," she argues. Her voice is angry. Hostile. It does nothing but stoke my own anger.

  "My little stunt?" I ask incredulously. "You think I wanted to be put in that situation last night? Perhaps you didn’t notice, but my friend died because of that little stunt!"

  "Yeah, and now my brother and Julia might be next!" she snaps, unable to mask the tremor in her voice.

  "What? What do you mean?" I ask, thrown off by the proclamation. I search the room for my cousin Trent, but like Julia, his face is absent. I look to Emily who stares back at me, as lost as I am. My mother and father watch me with the kind of grim expressions I've learned over the years to be associated with bad news.

  "They were taken two days ago," my father answers.

  The news hits hard, churning my insides with worry. "What do you mean taken?" I ask. "Why? By who?"

  "By the same Animals you met last night," Uncle Will answers, voice dripping with disdain. "Came through as they were hauling water and snatched them up. Had them tied and gagged like fucking livestock. Told us we had three days to decide if we wanted to join their cause. Said they take care of their own, and that if we wanted Julia and Trent to be treated as such, we better think hard on our decision."

  Anger and nausea fight for dominance as I hear this. These Animals are a much bigger threat than I realized. I thought last night we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I suppose we were, but it's more than that. I recall what the sneering man said, about expanding their crew, trying to get the manpower needed to take over the town. Not simply a ploy then.

  "Hold on," I say, still digesting this piece of news. "Start from the beginning. These Animals, they said last night they wanted to take over. Take over what exactly? What's even left of the town? Do different gangs control certain areas? How's it divided? How many—"

  "Whoa Morgan, easy," Vince says from across the room. "One question at a time alright? We'll fill you in."

  Their story confirms much of what Elroy heard over the CB. After the terrorist's message was broadcasted and the pulse went off, people panicked. Markets were flooded, accidents happened, lives were lost. The chaos was short lived, most people looking to burrow away with their stash of food and weapons, and hopefully ride out the storm. But others looked at the situation and saw opportunity. Gangs were formed. Some out of fear: families and friends banding together for protection. Others, for the thrill: sick individuals enjoying the advantages of a lawless climate. And some, the worst ones, were formed for gain: the power hungry looking to rule and conquer a town in turmoil.

  It was a few days before everyone made it here. For a while nobody dared venture outside, afraid of what might be waiting for them. But eventually their food stores ran low and they were forced to seek more. From the contact they’ve made with others since, they’ve learned of several notable gangs around town. However, one name stood apart from the rest—a name spoken in haunted voices and fearful whispers, as if by speaking the name aloud they might incur the gang’s wrath. The Animas Animals: by far the largest and most ruthless of them all.

  From what my family has heard the gang is over one hundred strong, not including those they have recruited who have yet to earn their place. They have a fleet of vehicles which still run, and if rumors are true, have somehow managed to amass a food cache large enough to see them through the winter. The Animals have steamrolled through any who’ve opposed them, killing off the leadership of rival gangs, and recruiting those remaining who would bend the knee. And then there are those, like my family, who were unfortunate to have accidentally crossed their path. Trent and Julia are the carrot the Animals dangle to bait my family to their cause, offering false promises once they come into their fold. Should my family refuse, the stick will fall and my cousins will be killed, but only after the Animals have had their fun with them. Should they accept, my family will be used as pawns—sacrificial lambs that will be the first to die in the Animals’ conquest for power. Either way, my family loses.

  I'm stunned into silence by the end of this sad tale. I'm at a loss of what to do, how to help. I feel like I'm trapped in another of my twisted dreams. If only that were true. "That's why you three were out last night?" I ask. "You were going to try and get them back?"

  "Yeah," Vince sighs. "We were going to scout it out first...see if it was even possible."

  "You said they gave you two days?" Felix asks. "How will they be able to tell if anyone's left before then?"

  "Two of their men were sent inside to tally everyone in the house," Uncle Will replies, his face red and twisted in anger. "They knew we wouldn't do anything to them, not while they had Trent and Julia at their mercy. I had to watch those sons of bitches walk into my house and count us off, and then walk out with all our food, guns, and ammunition. We managed to stash away three rifles, but we’re nearly out of ammo. Especially after last night."

  There is venom directed at me on that last bit, but I'm too numb from the information to feel any kind of sting. Even if I did, I couldn't resent him for it. I'm not a father. I have no idea the kind of anguished worry he must feel right now. He's entitled to his anger.

  "What I don't get is why they gave you three days," Leon says. "I mean why be so accommodating?"

  Vince laughs bitterly. "They fed us a bunch of bullshit about how good life will be as part of their crew. Said we would make bette
r soldiers if we decided to join them on our own, instead of through force. As if there was nothing forceful about abducting Trent and Julia in the first place." A solemn silence fills the room, its presence as cold as it is demoralizing. With everything now out in the open, none of us seem to know how to proceed. I know I don't.

  "So they've accounted for everyone in the house, but they don't know about our arrival last night?" Felix asks, breaking the silence.

  "No, there would have been repercussions if they knew you were here, or that we were the ones who interfered," Vince confirms.

  On instinct, I look around to find those I've traveled with these past months. Eyes who've seen the same horrors as I stare back at me. I can feel the silent understanding blooming between us. Together we've been through so many trials, so much hardship. This is no different. All of us dream for the day when we can shed our fear for peace. It is the dream I’ve held since I first bloodied my hands protecting those I love. But that day will require much of us. And we can't do it alone. We need others we love and trust by our side. It's the only way. And it starts figuring out how to get my family out of this.

  "That might be just the edge we need," I say.

  We debate, plan, strategize. Scenarios are run. Variables are shifted. Flaws are found. We create contingencies and countermeasures for everything we come up with. A dull throb beats behind my eyes, matching the pace of my heart. A dozen of us have been shut in my uncle's office for the past few hours, determined to work something out. The problem is there are so many factors to consider, so many tiny hiccups that might turn out disastrous. In the end though, we decide on a course of action. I only pray everything goes right.

  "We head out at midnight," I say. "Get some rest while you can. It's going to be a long night." With yawns and sighs of stretching bodies, the room empties till only Lauren and I remain. I turn to her now. "Walk with me?" I ask.