by Emma Castle
Caroline passed by the empty canned food aisle. The items that could last the longest had been taken first. So she focused on other items like cereal. The easily reached shelves were bare, but she thought she saw something up top. She carefully scaled the shelves, praying they wouldn’t fall down and crush her. She reached her hand along, trying to search for anything that might’ve been left behind. Her fingers brushed along the dust-covered surface of the shelf. They bumped into something. She reached, clawing at the object, and closed her hand around it.
It moved. The furry thing squeaked and bit her hand.
Caroline screamed and toppled backward, landing hard on her back. The air whooshed out of her lungs, and she choked on a sob. It was a damn rat. She hated rats. Pain radiated through her as she struggled to catch her breath. She’d missed landing on a bunch of broken jars by mere inches. After a long moment, she stifled a whimper as she rolled onto her side. She got up and wiped the dirt and debris off her jeans and checked her bag. She’d been smart enough to put it down while she’d been searching the shelves. She knelt down and caught sight of several boxes of granola bars at the back of the bottom shelf.
“Yes!” She grinned as she pulled them out, squinting at them in the dim light. Peanut butter and chocolate. Her favorite. She opened the boxes and dumped the bars in her bag to save space. Then she zipped the bag shut and slung it over her shoulder before searching the other aisles. She passed by the frozen foods section and saw the now hardened pools of melted sugary liquid that once had been ice cream. In the shadows they were dark, like blood, and the sight made her stomach churn.
The pharmacy was mostly cleaned out, but she did find some Tylenol and multivitamins. She also discovered a few small bottles of Pedialyte. The salty liquid didn’t taste that great, but she could power through days of little to no food with it. Her personal record so far was four days. Not that she wanted to brag about that.
She was almost done browsing the pharmacy when she heard the faint sound of glass beneath boots. But not her boots.
Oh God.
Her unseen watcher had decided to show his or her face, but Caroline had no plans on sticking around to see who it was. She waited, listening to the sounds around her, ears straining to pick up every little sound. There was a distant scrape from the opposite end of the store. Caroline exhaled slowly, her heart pounding. They were moving away from her. She still had time to escape. She crouched over, using the shorter shelves in the store’s pharmacy section to shield her while she slipped her backpack back on. The harsh grinding sound of the zipper teeth locking into place seemed far too loud to her. Then she swung it over her shoulders and secured it to her waist with straps.
The sound of a can rolling in the distance made her tense. When she peered around the edge of the nearest shelf, she saw a tin of baked beans flash in the moonlight that poured into the grocery store’s high empty panes. That was too good a find to ignore. There might be a way to grab the can as she left the store. Whoever was here was still in the far end of the store and might not see her.
Already tasting the beans in her mind, she left her spot behind the shelf and started to crawl forward slowly on hands and knees toward the can. She bumped against some broken glass and stopped. She was only inches away. She reached out, her hand brushing the metal rim of the can when a booted foot materialized from the shadows. It stepped on the can, pinning it in place.
A scream froze in Caroline’s throat, and she threw her head back to look up at whoever had discovered her.
A tall, well-built man with broad shoulders stared down at her. He was wearing a thick gray sweater, one that looked military, and he had a thick beard that covered his chin and mouth, making his expression impossible to read, but it leaned toward menacing.
“Easy, beautiful.” His deep voice was a little rough, as though he hadn’t spoken in days.
She knew all too well what that sound was like. How long had it been since she’d actually talked to someone? Shouting at them to leave her alone while she ran away didn’t count. It had been at least two weeks. The rare times she came into contact with other survivors, it was a hard scramble, like animals fighting for survival. A person had but a few seconds to measure up the other survivor, to see if they were friend or foe. Could they be trusted, or would they be dangerous? She’d always tried to talk to them and try to calm them down. It never worked. A woman she’d ran into last month had pretended to be nice, but then she tried to stab her when Caroline turned her back to help her lift a box of bottled water off the ground. Caroline had the scars to prove that trusting people wasn’t worthwhile, no matter how much she wanted to.
She glanced up at the man looming over her. “You can have whatever’s left in the store. I don’t want any trouble.” She released her hold on the can and slowly sat back on her heels. This guy, whoever he was, was definitely not someone she could trust. He was a mass of muscle and intimidation. A mountain man who likely only thought of base instincts. If she could get him to think she was helpless and weak, she could buy herself time to attack and escape because he’d lower his guard. In seconds, she could rock up fully into a standing position and run, but he didn’t know that. Speed was one of her advantages. She had gotten really good at running since the virus had spread.
“What if I want you?” Rather than menacing, the man’s deep voice sounded gentle and melodic. Hell, in another world she would’ve called it seductive.
But luxuries like love and other complex emotions had perished in the night, along with baser feelings like hope. She was going to die, not from Hydra but from this man.
Her hand by her knee brushed against a piece of glass. She curled her fingers around it as she met his gaze. His eyes were black in the darkness. He seemed in that moment more shadow than mortal flesh. Nightmare rather than reality.
I don’t want to die. I want to live.
Even this cold, empty world still called to her. She would not go down without a fight.
“Go on and stand up,” he said more brusquely, as though frustrated by her silence. “I want a better look at you.” At first she thought he’d reached out to grab her, but he didn’t. He just held out his hand, a gesture so normal in this abnormal world that she nearly laughed. She rose, her knees knocking as she tried to control the surge of adrenaline inside her. Every sound, every breath, every move seemed slower in time. Caroline kept the shard of glass loosely balanced on her partially curled fingers to conceal it, waiting.
When she raised her gaze to his face again, she could now see the handsome features partially hidden behind the mountain man beard. He was a little older than her, early thirties maybe? The beard made it hard to tell.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he growled. “I couldn’t tell when I first spotted you a few hours ago. I only saw you from behind and at a distance.” He seemed to be talking more to himself than her.
Shit…he wanted her. That wasn’t good.
“Just let me go,” she said again.
“No can do.” He bent to pick up the can of beans and slipped it into the pack on his shoulders. Caroline almost made a run for it, but he was too close and would easily grab her before she got far.
“I’ll give you my bag,” she offered, hating that she would do just that if it saved her life. She had gotten far too used to starting over. Losing everything she had the moment she started to get ahead.
The man sighed. “I don’t want your bag.” He held out his hand to her again. “Now, come on. Let’s go someplace safe to talk.”
Caroline knew her chances were better if he never saw the attack coming. She placed her hand in his. The flare of heat between that single connection rocked her to her core. She hadn’t touched another person in so long, she was surprised by the warmth she felt. For a moment she imagined that this wasn’t the end of the world and she was just walking hand-in-hand with a sexy man.
I cannot be feeling anything. It’s just shock from touching another person after so long.
H
e led her toward the front of the store. She walked along beside him, still holding his hand. When they were within feet of the exit she lunged, stabbing him in the shoulder with the glass shard. The glass cut her hand, but she pushed harder. He grunted and released her as he tried to pull the glass out of his shoulder.
She sprinted around him, running for freedom, but with a panicked cry she twisted her right ankle, coming down on it hard as she collided with a shelf. The structure wobbled, and she looked up in terror as the metal shelves teetered and fell right on top of her. She blacked out and crumpled to the floor in sheer agony as the metal hit her body. A moment later, she was conscious again. She breathed in heavy pants as she tried to claw her way out from under the shelves, focused on the only thing that mattered—escape.
Metal creaked and groaned as it came off her body, and she dragged herself free of it. Then the metal crashed back down, and the bearded man stood there, breathing hard as he watched her. She closed her eyes, praying death would be swift if that was her fate now.
A pair of hands slid under her body, lifting her up effortlessly. She cried out in fear, clawing at the man as he held her against his chest.
“Easy, beautiful, easy,” That gentle rumbling voice of his made her restless panic ease, but only for a fraction of a second. The pain in her ankle was so great she could barely think. She closed her eyes, breathing in and out, her hands fisted in his thick sweater.
Stay alive. That was all that mattered. Whatever he wanted to do to her, he wouldn’t do it here and not right now. She could fight him off and escape as soon as her body stopped hurting.
He stepped through the doorway and carried her into the street, bold and unafraid. She’d run from car to car to get here, hiding like a mouse. But he strode out like a god of war. For now, she belonged to him. That seemed to be the way this dead new world was going to work. Ten thousand years of civilization was gone in less than four months. Whatever rules humans made now would be hard and cruel. Caroline shivered as that burning hope for mankind shrank even more.
Even with his wounded shoulder, the man carried her half a block as though she weighed nothing at all. Then he stopped in front of a black Ford SUV. He shifted her in his arms as he opened the back door and settled her into a passenger seat. Fresh pain shot through her ankle, and she lay uncomfortably on top of her backpack, like a turtle flipped onto its shell.
“Please… Don’t…” She whimpered as she saw him digging around in his own backpack. She couldn’t escape; she couldn’t fight him off.
He pulled out a syringe with a mean-looking needle and ripped the cap off.
“No!” She kicked at him, but he anticipated the blow. Her foot barely made contact.
“Stop it. I’m not going to hurt you.” He grabbed both of her legs with one hand and pinned her down. Caroline screamed in pain. The man hissed and pulled up her sweater, jabbing the needle into her side just above her hip.
She moaned and thrashed. Her leg hurt so badly she had no strength left. She rolled onto her stomach, trying to drag herself through the vehicle, her fingers scraping over the nice leather. Whatever he’d given her was moving through her veins, dulling her senses, numbing her all over. Tears leaked out of her eyes as she struggled and fought. Strains of the last address on the radio by the final president of the United States came back to her.
“We shall not go quietly into the night. Stand together, stand strong…”
And just like the radio, the lights around Caroline went dark.
2
@CDC: Hydra-1 update: There have been many rumors and speculation about the disease. It is believed to have originated in a wet market where live and dead animals were sold out in the open with no sanitary control. We have traced its origins to a wet market in Guangzhou where horseshoe bats were caged too closely to palm civet cats. Much like the way SARS developed, Hydra-1 jumped species and is moving to humans. The CDC is analyzing samples to begin developing a vaccine.
—Centers for Disease Control Twitter Feed
November 13, 2019
* * *
Lincoln tossed the empty needle to the ground and stared at the unconscious young woman in the back seat of his car.
Somehow he had fucked up, bad. She’d been terrified. He knew better than to approach a civilian like that. She was frightened out of her mind. He should have followed her and waited until morning to approach her. Sneaking up on her like that had been cruel. She didn’t know that he wasn’t like the other monsters out there, the men who would have raped and killed her. She was attractive—he wasn’t going to lie to himself about that—but he wasn’t a rapist.
It was just…well, he couldn’t let her go on her own. He’d been following her discreetly for a day now, trying to assess her. She had developed some survival instincts, but she clearly wasn’t military. It was a miracle she’d made it this long without someone watching her back. The fact was she needed protection. She was young, probably in her early twenties. So whether she liked it or not, he was going to look out for her. It had been two weeks since Adam died, and he hadn’t seen another living person in all that time, though he’d found plenty of evidence of the kind of people who might still be roaming the cities. He’d seen smoke from fires, heard gunshots. Enough to know that the people still out there were dangerous. In all his years as a soldier, he’d seen hellscapes before. Men roving in gangs, killing and raping. People turning on each other for a scrap of food to survive. And that had been in war-torn areas, just small pockets of chaos. But now the entire world was in chaos.
Lincoln closed his eyes for a brief second, his breath slowing as he remembered seeing this girl for the first time yesterday and how it had been like seeing the sun after months of clouds.
He’d been sleeping in one of the military vehicles parked in the woods close to the underground bunker. He heard her footsteps as she passed him on the road. He’d sat up just enough to catch a glimpse of her. He’d lied to her about only having seen her from behind. He’d gotten a damned good look at her through his long-range binoculars as she’d turned around to scan the road. But he hadn’t really believed what he’d seen. She had long, coffee-brown hair that glowed beneath the afternoon sun, and her eyes, a rich hazel green, made him feel strangely homesick for a home he’d left a long time ago. She was a tiny woman of only five foot four, and when he had taken one look at her curves, something inside him demanded he pursue her. Pursue and protect and maybe one day…
He shook himself. Two weeks out of the bunker and he was already thinking like a barbarian. He wouldn’t allow that. The country he’d defended might not exist, but he could still defend its ideals. Still, he couldn’t help but dream, imagining a connection forming between them, and maybe one day he would get lucky enough to know exactly how she felt in his arms when her eyes were bright with passion and her lips were hungry for pleasure. But that wasn’t in his control. The only thing in his control right now was protecting her. Two people together had a better chance of survival than one alone.
Lincoln walked around to the driver’s side and climbed in. He had plenty of gas for now. He was one of the few survivors still using vehicles. Quite a few of the stations still had gas, but only older stations off the beaten path still had pumps he could start without paying. But He also was pretty good at siphoning gas. Special forces training had come in handy during the end of the world.
As he drove down the road to the house he’d been using as a base of operations for the last week, he noticed the twilight slash across the sky as a deeper purple bled into it and the moon rose even higher. He stared at the endless neighborhoods of eastern Nebraska, stunned at how empty it all seemed without people.
Life after us… Is it really life?
Since he’d left the bunker two weeks ago, he had been lost. Not literally, but figuratively. There were no more missions. His best friend and former commander—the last president of the United States—was dead. There were no terrorist cells to track down, no hostages to rescue,
no tyrannical governments to topple. It was all over. Everything he’d done in the last decade of his life had become meaningless on the whim of some microbial virus. For as long as he could remember, he’d been a kid with a plan and then a man with a mission. Now it was just about surviving.
But surviving for what? What was the point of all this? For a man who didn’t like dwelling on philosophy, he’d become far too comfortable with existential thoughts these last few months.
Lincoln could still taste the bitterness when he thought back to that first night after he left the bunker, how he’d sat by a small campfire deep in the woods and watched the firelight play upon the barrel of his gun. It had felt heavy, a solid weight that was almost comforting. The bullet in the chamber promised an end to his worries.
He’d nearly put the gun to his temple, his hand had even lifted an inch or two off his lap, but something had stopped him. Some damn internal instinct to survive. He’d seen a flash of the old lake cabin his parents used to take him to during the summer when he’d been a kid. The quiet still water, the blue sky above and the wooded hills reflected on the perfect mirror surface of the lake. Then there had been a flash, just an instant of light in his head and a whisper…one word…hope.
The vision had been so clear, so powerful that he’d dropped the gun back to the ground, his heart pounding wildly as he gasped for breath. He couldn’t go through with it now even if he wanted to because every time he thought about it, he heard that word in his head again. Hope. But how could he have any hope left? It hadn’t been possible.
