by N.W. Harris
“The buses are useless,” Tracy announced, her fists on her hips.
Her stoic manner and tone took over, and though her brow still showed frustration and anger, the post-apocalyptic-super-survivor version of Tracy Shane was introduced to yesterday returned.
The dawn’s light waxed, revealing the damage caused by the storm. Thick, glowing, lime-green clouds hung low overhead, the wind kicking up again. The three school buses suffered a lot of damage. They had flat tires, busted windows, and one had a steel beam sticking out of its front grill, a testament to the power of the tornado.
“I don’t think walking is such a good idea either,” Shane replied, scanning the base for another means of transportation. “Why don’t you take Aaron and scout the area? Maybe y’all can find a couple of military trucks that are still in one piece.”
“Yeah, a Humvee would be a hell of a lot cooler than a school bus,” Aaron said. He’d crawled out from under the Freightliners and was relieving himself nearby. “Where we going?”
“Yuck,” Tracy growled. “There’s got to be a better place to do that!”
“You’re just jealous you can’t whip it out and whiz wherever you please,” Aaron countered, spinning around and zipping his pants with his hips thrust forward.
“Come on, guys,” Shane scolded. “Can it, and find us some rides. Tracy will relay what we heard on the radio while you search.”
“Yes sir,” Aaron replied, giving a mock salute. As fresh as it was to see him acting in good spirits, his joking around didn’t fool Shane. His eyes spoke of the pain they all felt, the loss of their parents still too recent an insult.
Aaron scooped up his bow and quiver of arrows. Tracy and he set across the tarmac, dodging twisted remains of buildings and cars crumpled like stepped-on soda cans and dropped by the twister. The sounds of gunshots and mortar explosions carrying across the base yesterday were gone. All the soldiers must have killed each other, the animals wiping out the few who survived the battle.
Looking at the devastation, Shane was once again amazed they managed to survive. He took it as a sign. If they persisted, they might make it through this nightmare and stop the weapon before it killed them all.
Kids woke up and crawled out one by one from under the wet refuge. The curious little ones began poking around in the trash deposited by the tornado, and some of the older kids passed out the snacks and sodas that survived the night in the supply bus.
“Shane,” Kelly called from under the bus with a distressed voice. “I think you’d better come here.”
He dropped to his knees and reluctantly crawled into the wet shelter where he’d spent the night. Kelly crouched near the rear axle, leaning over Matt. Shane made his way back to her, careful not to bang his head on the driveshaft.
“What’s up?”
“I don’t think he’s breathing,” Kelly whispered. A tear dripped off her cheek and onto Matt’s pale face.
Shane put his fingers on Matt’s neck and didn’t find a pulse. He knew as soon as he touched Matt’s cold skin he was dead. Pulling the blanket back, a subtle odor of decaying flesh met Shane’s nose. Nauseous, he laid his head on Matt’s chest, listening for a heartbeat. He couldn’t hear anything. Under Matt’s half open eyelids, Shane could see the whites of his eyes looked dry and sticky.
He leaned back and pulled the blanket over Matt’s head. Then Shane looked at Kelly, whose chin crinkled against a deluge of tears. Shane shook his head to let her know Matt had passed. She grabbed him and buried her face in his shirt, muffling her weeping.
Shane cradled her head with his hand, each of her sobs hot bullets searing through his otherwise-numb heart.
“It’s better this way,” Shane whispered. “He’s not in pain anymore.”
It sounded awkward and stupid, and he knew it would be better to be alive and in pain than dead, but Shane had to say something. The worst part was he didn’t want to cry. And he and Matt were best friends when they were little. Shane couldn’t feel anything except for a desire to save Kelly and to see her smile like she used to every day at school or at church. It was the only thing still anchoring his soul in his body. If he lost that thread of motivation, he may as well be dead himself.
“Come on,” he said, wanting to get her away from Matt’s corpse. “Let’s get out of here.”
“But,” Kelly pulled away, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. “What do we do with him?”
“I think we should leave him here for now,” Shane replied, hoping not to sound insensitive. “I don’t want to upset the little kids.”
Kelly nodded. They crawled out together. Natalie came over after they stood. She wore a blanket draped around her shoulders, the soggy and dirty bottom dragging the ground.
“I want to go home now,” she said, peering up at Shane as if he was the reason she couldn’t.
Shane glanced at Kelly, at a loss for words.
“Uh,” Kelly stammered, “we can’t just yet.” Her voice sounded weak and unconvincing.
“Yeah,” Shane added, trying to rescue Kelly. “The adventure isn’t over.”
“But this isn’t any fun at all,” Nat said, her green eyes big and wet and her chin crinkling.
“Come on,” Kelly said, putting her hands on the little girl’s shoulders and steering her away. “Let’s get you some breakfast.”
After watching Kelly and Nat, Shane took a deep shaky breath and gazed across the tarmac. Matt’s death hadn’t affected him as he would expect, but the sad expression on that six-year-old girl’s face caused him unbearable heartache. He couldn’t imagine what would happen if the little ones didn’t have the older kids to take care of them. They had to shut the weapon down and get the world back to normal, and they had to hurry.
A flock of crows flew overhead, screeching angrily at each other. Shane eyed them, worried. Any moment, the weapon could cause them to attack Kelly, and then shortly thereafter, Shane, Tracy, Steve, and Aaron would be targeted. If they didn’t shut the weapon down before that happened, he doubted there’d be a kid left old enough to do it.
