by Maya Riley
“How come we never heard of this before? If there’s really this safe haven, why haven’t they rid the world of the rotters, or at least tried to do something?” Mateo questioned, before signing to Jonah what was going on, and the rest of us fell back into the habit of combining our words with our hands.
“It’s a safe haven for survivors of the virus. It might not be the kind of place that really combats it. Unless they’re trying to be one, but don’t have a cure yet,” I mused. “Or enough recruits.”
“Do you think a cure could exist?” Maura asked.
“Anything is possible,” I responded.
“It cut off so much, did anyone catch the location?” Adam queried. “All I could make out was something about being in the South, possibly.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much what I got from it too,” I agreed, and the others nodded. “So, does this mean we’re going to head South?”
“I suppose so. Unless someone has something else in mind?” Adam asked, still eyeing the radio as though it would randomly spout out more useful information. Which, I supposed, was entirely probable.
“I have a question,” Mateo piped up. “We’re in fucking Pennsylvania. Are we really going to walk the whole way? It would take years, and we’d all die of old age before making it there.”
“He does have a point. Maybe we could find some sort of transportation. Syphon gas and hot-wire cars,” I offered. “We have no idea how far south we’d have to go, and it would really help with quicker transportation.”
Everyone looked at me.
“What? I mean, if you’d rather walk, then fine. But I’d prefer to drive. Or ride. Whichever way gets us there faster. Besides,” I continued, “the South covers a lot of space. Our legs would fall off. Hell, my legs want to fall off just from thinking about that.”
Does anyone know how to hot-wire a car? Jonah asked, to which everyone shrugged.
“You’re kidding me,” I grumbled, my eyes widening as I looked around. “Nobody in here knows how to hot-wire a car?”
They all shrugged, and then Lincoln inquired, “Do you?”
Maura laughed. “Does she know how to hot-wire a car?” she repeated around her giggles. “Oh, that’s great.”
“I think some of us are missing the joke, dear,” Adam remarked.
“She spent some time in Juvie, for hot-wiring the family car. Mama G was pissed. So pissed, that…” Maura trailed off and got a sad, faraway look in her eye.
“I never pegged you as the type to steal a car,” Mateo commented.
The temperature of my blood rose half a degree. “Maybe you shouldn’t define someone with your own preconceived notions before you even get to know them,” I deadpanned. There were a few things that could flip a switch and set me off, and judging my past was one of them.
Maura stepped between us. “Whoa, I didn’t mean to cause any problems. She only did it because Jakobi, our foster brother, had an allergic reaction to the takeout food Mama G had gotten us. She was in her office and didn’t care about us trying to get her attention. She had the only phone in the house, so we couldn’t even phone 9-1-1. So, Blyss carried Jakobi to the car, hot-wired it, and drove him to the hospital.”
“Oh man,” Adam murmured. “And Mama G received no punishment for ignoring the plea for help, right? You were thrown behind bars and had to deal with it all yourself?”
I nodded. “She could sweet talk her way into, and out of, anything. She had a way to make others bend to her will. I’d researched how to hot-wire a car one night, just in case. I’m glad I did, because we needed it.”
“What about the neighbors, none of them could help?” Lincoln asked.
“His allergy was fast reacting and he needed immediate help. By the time we found a neighbor who’d open their door and take us in, call for help, and then wait for help to arrive, he would’ve been gone. It was the only choice I had.” Everyone was quiet, and I hated the uncomfortable silence. “It’s fine though. I got a ding on my record, but he ended up getting treated and being alright.”
“That’s just… unbelievable,” Mateo stated. “People disgust me.”
“Well, I know I haven’t showered in awhile, but I thought I was pretty decent.” I attempted to lighten the mood with a joke, since dwelling on things that happened to us in the past wasn’t going to get us moving forward. And we really needed to keep moving forward.
“Anyways…” I clapped my hands together, wanting to bring us back to the present and to the task at hand. “Are we going to pack up and find a car to hot-wire, or are we going to keep talking about the past?”
Everyone began to scramble around, going up and down the ladder to rummage through the supplies and pack up what each person could carry. We decided to pack heavy and carry as much water on us as we could, with the plan to possibly come back for more once we found a car and knew how much space we’d have. In the process of making sure we got everything of value that we could, we grabbed every bit of small wire that we found, and I stuffed them into my pockets for easy access, looking forward to when I could put them to use.
My hand flew up to my forehead, trying to shield my eyes against the sudden brightness of the sun. I hadn’t realized just how dark it was inside the building until we stepped back into the light. The dark was never as warm and welcome as the light of the day.
We began heading down the street. There wasn’t a single car on this road, giving way to a feeling of desertion. Maybe others had the idea to hot-wire cars. If so, I really hoped we didn’t find all the ones that were out of gas. Of course that would be just our luck. The cherry on top of the apocalypse.
“So, do we just keep walking until we eventually find a car?” Maura inquired, scrapping the soles of her shoes against the pavement as we walked.
“It’s really the only choice we have,” I answered. “We either keep moving forward, or in this case, south, or we stay where we are. And staying where we are won’t get us anywhere.”
“Hey, is that a candy store?” She pointed to a small shop ahead, the sign at the top obscured by the glare of the sun.
Once we got nearer, I took a closer look at the sign above the door. The painted letters were peeling and it was impossible to make out anything other than it was, indeed, a candy store. Crumbles of chocolate and fondant covered the empty shelves behind the broken glass window. “Well, this sounds delicious.”
For no reason other than pure curiosity, I stepped up to go inside. A little bell chimed above as I opened the door, a strange welcoming noise that sounded so out of place in this dystopia.
Empty wrappers and stray candy crumbs littered the floor, amongst countless pieces of broken glass from where people busted into the cases, and through the storefront windows. Which was ridiculous, it wasn’t like the door was even locked.
Everything was gone, of course. Not that anything here would still be good after all this time. The types of food we could eat were running low. Dairy, food that needed to be refrigerated, and pretty much everything with an expiration date that had already passed were a no go. The amount of packaged goods and processed foods that would still be viable was quickly dwindling.
If we didn’t find another secret underground place with hidden dry and canned food later on before our stash ran out, we’d be living off the earth—animals, leaves, and wild fruits. Not that it wasn’t possible, it was just a lot more work, and simply surviving, making it to the next day, was already enough work as it was.
Growing up, my foster siblings and I dreamed about running away so many times. We’d planned to pack a light bag, mount a horse from the nearby ranch, and ride as far as we could get. We’d assumed it would be easy to survive, stealing food whenever necessary. Of course, at that time, the world was still alive. We’d underestimated it though, living off the land.
My foster siblings and I, of course, never got around to trying it. If we had, I sure wouldn’t be here right now.
We’d all be doomed until each of us turned eighte
en, but when Mama G increased her security measures around the house, some of the others chickened out, and we weren’t going to leave unless it was all together.
Living in a rotter-pocalypse was a lot harder than what the TV shows portrayed. It was dark, desolate, and dreary, and so much more.
Although, somehow, I managed to collect a few good souls who shined a light through it all.
I made my way to the door behind the counter, ignoring everything that covered the floor since none of it would be any use to us. I was more interested in the possible treasures that might lay beneath.
Once I made it through the door and into the small dust-filled space that lay beyond, I lifted the dirty rug off the wooden floor and felt around, searching, not wanting to leave any part of the floor untouched. If it weren’t for the hidden space beneath the floor in the last store we were in, we’d still be running around with practically zero supplies.
Maura and Adam realized what I was doing and helped too, with the others keeping watch out in the main shop. After a while of feeling nothing but dirt and grime, I sighed. “Well, I guess not every store, shop, or building has a trap door. It’d be a good thing to keep a lookout for them from now on though.”
“Come on, let’s keep moving,” Adam urged.
We started moving back to the door, but before we could get through, Lincoln, Mateo, and Jonah, who was shooing Puppy in front of him, ushered us back as they piled inside. Jonah raised a finger to his lips to hush us, signed, Bad guys, and pointed toward the door Mateo had closed—except the lock was broken, so it remained cracked just enough for us to clearly hear anything that might be going on out there. Lincoln had a hold on Puppy, shushing her with his mouth to keep silent. She must have understood, because she didn’t even growl. Her body was stiff and her full attention was focused on whatever was on the other side of the door.
Low murmuring sounds trickled in as the voices grew nearer. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mateo pull out two knives, ready to fight. Lincoln had his hands raised, already having proven that he could fight with fire if needed, and the strange, yet semi-familiar voices brought my attention back to the door and what lay beyond, before I could gauge the stances of the others.
I could make out both male and female voices. It sounded like one female and a few males. There was something so familiar about it though. After straining my ears for a few sentences, trying to decipher the puzzle of where I’d heard them before, I took a quick glance at the others. Mateo was rigid, his face turning red from the rage that must be welling up inside him. Did he recognize the voices? A minute after watching him, he touched the tip of one knife to the elastic band that held his eye patch to his face, and then it clicked. These were the scavers from before. The ones from the fire station, and the ones who took his eye.
I felt the blood drain from my face, and his eye softened just slightly as he watched me.
We need to get out of here, Jonah signed, before pointing to the window on the other side of the room. Adam shuffled over with careful footsteps, and quietly unlatched the window. We all followed, careful not to make a sound, and stepped around every piece of debris that lined the floor.
Adam and Mateo helped Maura through the window first, hefting her up by using their cupped hands as a step. I was next, then Puppy, until we were all safely on the outside.
I looked through the window in time to see the door open, and the Beast Man’s eyes met mine. Recognition crossed his face, and his features twisted into something cruel. His already dark eyes lit up with a sadistic glee that sent painful shivers down my spine.
He flung open the door with enough force to cause it to fly off its hinges as it crashed into the wall, leaving another large dent in the already damaged plaster.
“We need to go, now,” I urged, more to myself than the others, and I turned around to run.
We ran and immediately turned the corner to the side of the building, trying to get out of sight as quickly as we could. I hurried to peer around the other corner of the structure to see if they were coming out the front, but the coast looked clear. I did, however, spot four motorcycles. My brain immediately began sifting through the hot-wire research I’d conducted a few years ago, and once I was certain I could do it, or to at least give it a decent shot without wasting all of our head start running time, I motioned for the others to follow.
I reached the motorcycles and grabbed one of the knives from Mateo’s hands. I used the blade to pry open the connector to reveal the terminals inside. After quickly messing around with the materials, trying to get the small piece of wire inside the connector to complete the circuit, the engine revved to life. I moved onto the next one, getting quicker each time until all four motorcycles were started.
We’d paired up quickly, the others taking advantage of their time waiting on me to make sure everything was in order. Adam and Maura slid on one, and then Jonah, carrying Puppy, found his bike. Mateo would either be with me or on his own. They were all ready to go, just waiting on me to get the last one up and running. As soon as the engine revved up, I heard shouts from the direction of the candy shop and cursed. I turned to Lincoln to tell him to get on when my face dropped.
His face was drained of color and his breathing was shallow. I could see the whole white that surrounded his irises, his eyes were so wide.
“Linc,” I whispered.
“I-I can’t,” he stuttered, and I realized what was happening. He was having a flashback to the night he was on a motorcycle and his friend was killed in the accident.
“Hey,” I murmured, regretting what I was about to say, and try and make him do with everything in me. “It’ll be alright. You’re with me and I’ll drive. The only way for us to stay safe, though, is to get out of here fast, and these motorcycles are the way to go. Just for a very short time for them to lose our trail. Only a few minutes. It’ll be okay, I promise. I got you, and nothing will happen as long as I’m here.” I laid a hand on his chest, grounding him. “Do you trust me?”
He nodded, still a little dazed, but coming around.
“We don’t have much time. We don’t have any time at all really. We need to go right now. Can you sit there with your arms around my waist? You can close your eyes.”
He nodded, and I spun around and sat down on the motorcycle. I turned to the others and yelled at them to get going. The scavers were approaching us from the side and picked up their speed when they saw our group moving away. A moment later, I released the brake, and we were trailing after the others, straight out of the grasp of the Roaches. I felt a few strands of hair get pulled out of my head as an unfamiliar hand grabbed what it could reach as we began to ride away. Lincoln touched the unfamiliar hand for a brief moment when we separated from them, and left the screams of pain behind us. I didn’t need to glance back to know what happened, I got a brief whiff of burning flesh.
Missing Assistant
A green roof loomed in the distance and I had the strange sense of feeling like I was so close to uncovering something, but also getting farther away with each step. After stumbling upon the burnt rotters earlier, and then getting turned around in the wrong direction, we were pretty exhausted. We’d struggled to survive out here with no continuous shelter, and only the food we could find once we’d run out of what we’d originally packed. Not wanting to go back empty-handed though, we trudged on.
Not completing what we set out to do wasn’t an option. It was either find the girl, or fully accept this fate. There was no in between. We’d collect her, or die trying.
We reached the cottage with the green roof and walked up the stairs. Not a single sound was made other than the slight creak of the steps, punctuated by the flapping wings of birds in the trees. I tested the door handle, and it was unlocked, so I pushed it open, cringing at the nail-biting creakiness of the un-oiled hinges.
Inside wasn’t exactly what I’d expected. Everywhere else we came upon had already been looted and emptied. This place, however, held no such feeling.<
br />
It was as though it was recently lived in. I moved over to the fireplace and held my hand out. The coals were still warm, so someone else was here not long ago. Whoever was here, we just barely missed them.
“Do you think they’ll come back?” Michael voiced the question that was wandering through my own head.
I looked around, noting few items remained. Some old clothes were strewn about as though someone had recently pawed through them. There were a few bags tossed in a corner, spilling out miscellaneous contents onto the faded hardwood floor. It was kind a mixture of people having left in a hurry to never come back, but also items left behind in a way that signaled they may return.
After combing through the contents of the cottage as much as we could, we stepped outside and found a trail that we’d be able to follow. There were animal droppings in the dirt, but not from any wild animal you’d expect to see them from. This was possibly from a house pet, more likely a medium-sized dog. I followed my instinct and motioned for Michael to join me.
We hurried down the trail, and after a while, we came upon an area with a large tree. I knelt down to get a closer look at what seemed to be brown strands of human hair. I reached out and rubbed them between my thumb and forefinger, feeling the stringy texture, trying to get an accurate feel for the objects. I remembered back to the day years ago, the last time I felt this hair. The texture was slightly different than anyone else’s, an unnatural feeling of silky and rough at the same time, but not enough to really alarm anyone who didn’t recognize it for what it was, or who it came from. It felt the same today as it did the night I guided the head of hair to freedom under the light of the moon. “We’re on the right path,” I announced.
Standing up, I turned around in a slow circle until I felt a tug in my gut, hinting at the direction to go. Spinning to my left, I let my gut guide me.
Blyss
We rode hard and we rode fast, taking as many turns as we could to get the scavers off our trail. It was like what I’d once been told before about running from an alligator—zigzag as much as possible, because they couldn’t turn their bodies that fast. Except instead of alligators, it was a group of people who found thrill in the kill. And not killing rotters either, no. In killing actual living people. Not for their supplies, not even to survive, but because they found it fun. As though it were a new form of entertainment for the era.
