by Sam Ryder
“Si knew it was bad. He didn’t know how bad—none of us did. But when he saw the missile cross into our airspace, he immediately alerted the President and everyone else up the chain. His next message was to me. I kept waiting for the general warning to go out.”
“But it never did,” Hannah said. She’d lived through it, too, although based on her appearance she was probably just a teenager when it happened.
“And you found safety?” Gehn asked.
“Yeah. There was a bomb shelter on the base where I was stationed. I knew Si wouldn’t kid around about this sort of thing, so I made a beeline for it. I’d tried to warn others, but they thought it was a hoax. They all thought an official warning would’ve been issued if it was real. Si wasn’t the joking type, so I hunkered down right near ground zero.”
“You were right next to it?” Hannah said. “What did it feel like?”
“It felt... loud,” I said. “The walls shook. My bones shook. It was one of those booms where you knew people were obliterated. The bomb shelter was well-stocked, so I stayed in there until I ran out of food and water. When I finally emerged, I thought I’d been transported to an alien planet. Lush, green trees and forest once surrounded the base. That was all wiped out, and it looked like this.” I gestured out to the barren dirt of the Ends.
“What happened to Silas?” Hannah asked.
I glanced at the dog tags again. “He didn’t make it. I found his body lying just outside of the building where he had first identified the missile. My guess is he stayed until the end to try to warn as many people as possible.”
That was the most confusing thing about the Blast. Some of us made it. Others didn’t. We didn’t know what was in the bomb, and we couldn’t talk to anybody over in Russia or North Korea, so there was no way of knowing what they made the thing out of.
It was like the bomb itself chose who to kill and who to let off the hook.
“I’ve wondered if he could’ve made it if he’d left earlier. He was face down on the ground, and his dog tags were around his neck. So I took them and kept them. Si saved my life, so I keep these to remind myself to not take that for granted. I live for the both of us now.”
It was more than I’d said to anyone on the topic before, and suddenly I felt embarrassed. I looked away.
“Thank you for telling us your story,” Hannah said, though she didn’t reciprocate with her own story about the Blast. How she, Gehn and their mother had survived. She also had yet to mention her father, but I didn’t ask.
That’s enough reminiscing, I thought. I pulled a photograph out of my dresser and tucked it into my jacket pocket.
“What’s that?” Gehn asked.
“Maybe later,” I said. “We should hit the road before nightfall. You ready?” They both nodded. “Okay, let me swing by the landlord on our way out. Come on, Chuck!”
Axl was a barrel-chested man who mostly kept to himself. It was for that reason that I liked him. He was a good landlord, too; he took care of the place and stayed the hell out of my business. Whenever I had the chance, I rewarded him for that. He scratched my back, so I wanted to scratch his.
“Hey, Axl,” I said when he opened the door on the second knock. “Me and Chuck’ll be gone for a little while, but save the place for me, yeah? Here’s next month’s rent.” I handed him fifty cents.
“Cutter, I won’t be giving this place to anybody,” he said. “Keep your money. You’re good for it.”
I shook my head. “I’m paying rent, even if I’m not here. Just keep the door locked for me. I’ll be back, I just don’t know when.”
The money didn’t matter to me as much as it did to him.
That was the beauty of these outposts. It was all about survival; that meant having a few allies in your corner. We didn’t need to know everybody’s business. We just did our jobs. If everyone did their jobs, then everyone had what they needed.
Harrison kept me drinking. Axl put a roof over my head. And I took care of business when asked and when the price was right. I had all I needed.
With our supplies on our backs and Chuck at my side, we were ready to hit the road. We planned to stop in Geneva first, which would be a two-day trip. Then we could restock, get some rest, and then push for Rome.
The cities were spread out by design. With all the conflict between the Enders and the Rising, people wanted to stay out of the line of fire.
I only hoped that Geneva—the only area where the Rising was forbidden to operate given the no-weapons policy—would be relatively safe for Gehn.
Chapter 6
Dirt
My eyes stung as the coarse dirt blew into my face.
In the far distance, the city of Geneva stood tall. I didn’t mind the walk, even if the terrain was brutal. And hell, I had company with me.
The dust was the problem.
When the Blast erupted, the entire makeup of the climate shifted. Long stretches of drought dominated the year. The ground was stiff and unforgiving. If there was a slight breeze, powdery dirt flew everywhere.
It got into my eyes, my clothes, my ears, my nose... even my damn teeth. Since the sun was excruciating most days, my sweat made the dirt cling to my skin. My arms felt like sandpaper the breeze kicked up.
In other words, the cross-terrain trip to Geneva was a miserable one. We’d hunkered down overnight in a warren that provided some shelter, huddled together. Though both sisters were exceptionally attractive, none of us had any desire to do more than sleep given the conditions and our weary legs and filthy condition. I was beginning to wonder why I’d insisted on changing my shirt back at my place—the new one was now in worse condition than the old one had been.
Chuck was fine with the dirt. If he caught an itch, he’d roll around in the soil to scratch his back and then sprint to catch up. The filth made him not much to look at, but he was a loyal friend. I didn’t care what he looked like.
The women were the hardy sort, never complaining. I liked that about them. Though they were as dirty as I, they wore it a lot better than I did. I got caught staring a few times.
“Like what you see?” Hannah had asked on several occasions. Twice it had been Gehn I had been checking out. Both times she’d blushed and turned away, as if she didn’t realize how good she looked.
“You are beautiful,” I’d said. “Both of you.” Gehn refused to meet my eyes, while Hannah offered a sly smile, her face smudged.
The land wasn’t just full of dirt, either. The Blast had leveled all the trees. Some were obliterated but others littered the land. Walking anywhere involved climbing over logs and other felled trees.
You got your workout in, that was for sure.
Chuck took every log as a chance to burn some energy. Even at his ripe age, he impressed me by how well he kept up. Some days I climbed over them quicker than others.
But I didn’t make these journeys often. I had plenty of adventure in my former life, I wasn’t out looking for it now. And yet here I was. I kept reminding myself the pay was good.
Then again, the more you sniff around, the more trouble you find.
Venture into one city and you come across a lot more conflict. People fighting over stupid shit. Sure, I’d fight if I had, too. And if someone hired me to fire a few bullets, I did my job. But I didn’t walk around looking for trouble. And there always seemed to be trouble in the Ends, somewhere.
Before the Blast it was a different story. I wanted action and the military gave it to me. Regularly. Three stints in the Nor-Kor-Russian War, fighting those pieces of shit. Every second was insane, but I was damn good at it. Plus, I was making the world a better place, ridding it of the garbage threatening the peace of the good ol’ folks back home.
Before the Blast, war was my life. I fought, served, and did it proudly. I loved being a soldier, and I loved defending my country. Si and I came up through boot camp together. We were tight. Brothers. The dude was best man at my wedding.
I chased that thought away as dirt stung my e
yes once more. My marriage was something I didn’t like to think about. My wife, Kate, hadn’t had a bomb shelter to run to.
At the height of the Nor-Kor-Russian War, my troop flew into enemy territory. The Russians fired missiles at our plane, forcing us way off-course. Instead of landing in Moscow as planned, we dropped into a little village outside the city.
We marched through the streets on our way to Moscow. The rigors of war ravaged the buildings. Villagers cowered in what was left of their homes.
At the time, I described it as “bombed-out”. Of course, that was before I lived in the Ends.
Bullets zinged through the village, catching us by surprise. Two of our men crumpled to the ground, dead before they hit. We scattered, hoping the enemy wouldn’t catch all of us.
Si waved me over to an old barn. We climbed the ladder up to the hayloft and set up shop on opposite sides of the building.
Russian bastards invaded the streets pumping bullets into anything that moved.
I’d locked eyes with Silas. He gritted his teeth.
Cracks peppered the barn on every side - just wide enough to fit the barrel of a gun. We nodded at each other. Neither of us said a word. We didn’t have to.
One by one, we drilled those sons of bitches with bullets from the cover of the barn. The two of us walked along the perimeter of the loft. We shot with precision. No wasted ammo.
We moved so quickly the Russians didn’t know what to do. Some of them scrambled. Others spun around with their finger on the trigger, praying they would get lucky and hit one of us.
They never did.
Si laughed. We were having fun kicking enemy ass and watching them panic.
Then, three of them charged the barn. They had figured out where we were shooting from. Those bastards tried. At points, I even thought they had us dead to rights. But as long as my brother was still standing, I would keep fighting.
We slipped around the shadows of the hayloft, concealing our location as much as possible. I grabbed a pitchfork and tossed it to the other side of the loft. The clunk distracted them long enough for each of us to take out a soldier.
The lone Russian standing screamed at us, rambling on as he opened fire with sloppy abandon.
Silas fired the kill shot. When that fucker hit the ground, we peered out of the barn and confirmed we were done with them.
We cheered. We hugged. He pulled out a pair of cigars from his breast pocket.
The two of us celebrated survival every time we got out of a scrape. War was hell, and not everybody was so lucky.
Those moments, toasting with our flasks or puffing on cigars... I remembered them fondly. Any time I touched the dog tags around my neck, I thought of Si and the laughs we shared.
In the Blast, they took him. Kneeling next to what was left of him at his post was like a sledgehammer to my head. It knocked me on my ass.
The blast burned his clothes off. The stench of charred flesh was in the air. His skeleton was all that was left, and it was black as night.
His bones were still smoking when I found him. I dropped to my knees in disbelief. In the span of just a few minutes, everything we had done—everything we worked for and dedicated our lives to for years—was gone.
The good times were over.
The whole idea of war and conflict became so meaningless. What the fuck was the point? We were all at each other’s throats and then the entire world gets blown to smithereens, anyway?
I didn’t get apathetic to fighting. If somebody wronged me, I’d still get mine. But to seek it out? That wasn’t interesting anymore.
Our trek had been completely silent for the first few hours. The only noise piercing the silence was the scraping sound of our footsteps on the ground or Chuck’s panting. The howl of the wind picking up occasionally offered variety.
Whenever the breeze died down, I’d spit a few times to get as much sand and dirt out of my mouth as I could. Those were the moments when I missed having a little scotch on hand.
Soon after the bomb, I found The Last Stop. Harrison took good care of me, especially in the drink department. Harrison was ready to capitalize on the blast, and I couldn’t blame him.
And at The Last Stop, the scotch flowed regularly.
Every time I got the chance to throw back a few, I did.
“I suppose there’s no beer around here anywhere,” I joked.
“When was the last time you saw a beer?” Hannah shot back.
It had been so long that I couldn’t remember. I didn’t even answer her. Scotch was still plentiful in the area. Men distilled hard liquor. But nobody was building a brewery.
Drinking calmed me down. It soothed me. Some guys go to therapists, or they used to, anyway. I left it up to alcohol. Drink enough, and I was numb to whatever pain I was surrounded by.
“Where did you find your friend?” Gehn asked, pointing to Chuck.
“After the blast, I searched around for any signs of life in the area,” I explained. “When I found Si’s body, I assumed that I would be alone. I inspected bunkers and any houses left standing. In that particular area, there weren’t too many people who made it.
“But I opened an underground bunker expecting to find a soldier or two, and I found this puppy. I didn’t know how he got there, and there wasn’t anyone else nearby to claim him. Once he saw me, he wagged his tail and followed me out. He’s like me, a survivor. He’s been with me ever since.”
“So he’s about ten years old, now?” Hannah asked. “Old for a dog these days.”
She was right. I smiled at Chuck, who wagged his tail like usual. Chuck was a little slower than he used to be, but he still had the energy of a puppy. He was a loyal companion, and we lived in an area where loyalty didn’t mean a lot anymore. While everyone was out to survive, I didn’t trust friendships very much.
Chuck, though, I trusted.
“He’s still in great shape,” I said. “Strong, lots of energy, can still cut a good pace. He’ll hang with us, and he’ll keep us safe at night, too, warn us if someone’s coming.”
Secretly, I knew how old Chuck was getting. Dogs don’t live forever. But it wasn’t something I dwelled on. That was a bridge I would cross when I got there.
“Did you have anyone in your life before the Blast?” Hannah asked. “You found Chuck afterwards. Other than your friend, who was in your life?”
I didn’t answer. The photo stuck out of the pocket of my jacket. I took them wherever I went, but I didn’t talk about them. Not even to Chuck.
Chapter 7
Enders
“So, how did it happen?” I asked later on in day two of our journey.
I was apprehensive about the answer. I’d heard horror stories about Enders. At some point, everyone heard about Enders who violently transformed into hideous creatures before their eyes. But Gehn wasn’t hideous at all and I wanted to know her story.
In ten years, I’d never witnessed a transformation.
Gehn didn’t slow down a step. The question didn’t faze her, probably because she’d lived it.
I was probably more rattled than she was. I hadn’t been around an Ender for very long before. In my mind, she could be a wild beast underneath that beauty. Maybe those horns were a sign of something much, much worse. Then again, she seemed calm, patient, level-headed. It wasn’t what I expected based on the things I’d heard.
“It was slow and painful,” she said.
“Really?” I asked. “I’ve heard so many people describe it as an instantaneous thing. Transforming before your very eyes.”
Gehn shook her head. “Were any of those people Enders?”
“No,” I replied sheepishly.
“That’s what I thought. The transformation into an Ender is a gradual process. Most of the information out there is Rising propaganda.”
“So what happened? When did you realize you were turning into an Ender?”
“I woke up one day with a very weird, heightened sense of danger. At first I thought I was b
eing paranoid. It was like I could see where trouble was brewing. And because I could see it, I could react to it before it happened. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that this was real. “Around the same time, I got headaches. Vicious, uncontrollable headaches. Like migraines on top of migraines. Lumps were growing on my scalp beneath my hair. Once they broke through the skin, the pain wasn’t as bad anymore.”
“And you think you can predict the future based on your dreams? Why are you so sure?”
“I didn’t say that. My recent dreams are a new thing. I haven’t exactly figured them out yet, but I’ve learned to trust my instincts. I can sense danger. I don’t know the source of it—just where it’s coming from. When I get close to danger, my stomach tightens. I’m excellent at avoiding it. Or at least, I have been so far.”
“Then why didn’t you detect the danger to your mother?”
Gehn fired a scathing look at Hannah, who only shrugged. Apparently the sisters hadn’t agreed to tell me everything Hannah had told me back at the bar.
“We were out,” Gehn said simply. “I recognized the danger and we hurried home, but it was too late.”
I felt bad for asking.
“You looked uncomfortable in the bar,” I said. “Could you sense danger then?”
“Oh, yes!” she said. “Definitely. I hated the feeling of that place, at least until you stepped in and took care of those creeps. It was like a weight was lifted from my shoulders.”
I shrugged. “No biggie. So you just woke up one day and had this sense?”
“Not quite. I was living in Rome with my mother and sister a few years ago. I’m ashamed to admit we were part of the Rising. They offered protection and stability. We were ignorant like so many. We believed them when they told us the Enders were evil and needed to be stopped. Anyway, I was heading to the street market to pick up some food for our evening meal. The closer I got to it, I felt a weird energy in the air. I didn’t know what it was, so I just listened to it. My inner voice told me to stay away. I went back to the house and laid low, thinking I might be coming down with something.
