Seven Days: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel

by G. Michael Hopf

  “So you doubt my abilities?”

  Frustrated, with her nerves frazzled, she barked, “I am doubtful, yes. There, I said it. You’re a boy. You are a beautiful, wonderful and tender boy who would get destroyed out there. The world is vicious now, it’s ruthless, and you, my precious son, are not ruthless.”

  Shocked by her brutal honesty, he asked, “So we just forget about Dad and Chase?”

  “No, we don’t forget about them, but your father made his choice. He did it out of devotion to Nana. I told him not to go, but he insisted.”

  “You said we do everything for family,” Michael said.

  “And I mean that, but there are times when we have to choose between one over another, and unfortunately, losing your father over Nana wasn’t a choice that was fair to the family as a whole.”

  “But—” Michael said before he was interrupted.

  “Your mother is right,” Nana said. She shuffled into the kitchen and took a seat at the dinette table.

  Startled by Nana’s sudden appearance, Tanya asked, “How long have you been eavesdropping?”

  “Long enough to hear you say something wise,” Nana said. She cocked her head towards Michael and continued, “I would never have okayed your father or brother leaving to get me medicine; never in a million years would I have said go. I wasn’t given a voice in the matter. Your father was always like you growing up.”

  “Me?” Michael asked, stunned by the comparison. He crossed the kitchen and sat down across from Nana.

  “Yes, he was. You only know him as the rough-and-tumble man, but growing up, he had a tender heart like yours. He cared for everyone and everything around him. He was also talented physically, hence his ability on the football field. Unfortunately for you, you chose to play video games growing up versus playing outside with balls. I blame your mother for that,” she sneered.

  Tanya shook her head.

  “But you are very much like your father, and I believe you’re just as capable. Thing is, you lack confidence and sometimes lead with weakness.”

  “It’s because no one allows me to do anything,” Michael complained.

  “And right there is some of that weakness,” Nana said.

  “Huh?”

  “You blame others. Doing that is wrong. You must remember that you’re ultimately responsible for your life. If you want to be physically strong, go do push-ups, get strong. Don’t complain about it as if someone held you down while you got soft. If you want to be strong in the mind, change your mindset, take ownership of your mistakes and failures. Failing isn’t a bad thing; hell, it’s a good thing. Not a person I know who has succeeded in life didn’t know failure. In fact, they failed more than they ever succeeded. Embrace your failures, let them make you a better person.”

  Michael listened to her words. They stung, but he knew deep down she was right.

  “I’m not saying you should go in town to prove yourself. In fact, I think your mother is one hundred percent correct. But if you want to show her you’re able, start acting like you are,” Nana said.

  He turned towards Tanya and found her looking on him with fond eyes.

  Nana reached out and touched his hand. “Now where the hell is my chicken stock?”

  “I’m making you some right now,” Tanya replied as she rolled her eyes.

  Nana stood and wobbled to the closest wall.

  Michael rushed to her side and offered his arm for her to balance on. “I’ll take you back to your room.”

  The two walked slowly, not saying a word to each other until they reached her door. She looked deep into his eyes and said, “You’re stronger than you think, you must know that. Don’t do anything foolish though. If your dad and brother don’t return, your mother will need that strength of yours in order to survive.”

  “But shouldn’t I go look for them?”

  She stopped and growled, “No. They decided to go. If they don’t come back, that’s that.”

  “But Dad is your son,” Michael said.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I love him, but his running off on fool’s errands is on him. I’m old, sick and probably near death. Risking his life was just stupid.” She coughed up phlegm, pulled out a handkerchief, and spit into it. After she wiped her lips, she continued. “You’re a sweet boy, and you’re able to do what’s necessary, but running out to prove something will only get you killed.”

  “But Mom is really upset.”

  “I know she is, but you going out and getting killed won’t make her happier.”

  “I know, but—”

  “No, don’t you dare think about it,” Nana barked.

  “But—”

  “Do you understand me?” she asked sternly.

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “Now, walk me to my bed.”

  He did as she said, helped her climb in, and covered her up. “I’ll be back with your chicken stock shortly.” He left the room, and as he walked back to the kitchen, all he could think about was proving to his mother that he could be the savior of the family by finding Dad and Chase.

  TEXAS-NEW MEXICO BORDER

  “I need to go,” Hannah whined. She’d been asleep for hours then woke up suddenly with the urge to urinate.

  “I’ll pull over here. Looks safe enough,” Reid said as he slowed the car to a full stop. He carefully scanned the area. With the sun up to the east and the terrain flat with only sagebrush and tall grasses, it was easy for him to see. He pulled the pistol from a holster he had stuck between the console and seat and shoved it into his waistband. He exited the car and was instantly hit by a cool brisk wind from the northwest. A chill ran down his spine, and goose bumps broke out across his body.

  Unable to wait, Hannah got out of the car. She looked around and asked, “Where should I go?”

  “Just go next to the car.”

  “But—”

  “Hannah, no one is out here. Just go.”

  As she went, he took the time to relieve himself too and get a good stretch. He’d been driving for twelve hours but had only gone one hundred and forty-five miles. The condition of the road was horrible and restricted his speed greatly. This concerned him, as he still had approximately one thousand miles to drive. He was happy to have a vehicle, but the Tesla’s suspension couldn’t handle the rough road. At the current rate he was going, he wouldn’t be able to make it to the coast in time.

  With his mind filled with thoughts, he didn’t see Hannah as she walked over to a road sign.

  “Welcome to New Mexico, The Land of Enchantment,” she read.

  “Huh?” He spun his head and saw her standing below the large yellow sign.

  “Don’t wander off.”

  “Are we in New Mexico?”

  He stepped away from the car and walked over to her. “As soon as we pass the sign, we will be.”

  “So New Mexico is right there?” she asked, pointing at the ground just beyond the sign.

  “Yep.”

  She took a few steps and said, “Look, I’m in New Mexico.”

  “You’ve now officially been to three states.”

  “Three?”

  “I’m standing in Texas.”

  “When did we get to Texas?” she asked.

  “Last night sometime,” he replied. “Now we have a long drive across New Mexico, and then we’ll be in Arizona, then across that state to California.”

  “Why is it called the land of enchantment?”

  “Good question. I have no idea.”

  She turned and looked to the west. “I can’t wait to see the coast and the waves crashing.”

  “Me too.”

  “I hope we get there before…” she said before she paused.

  He walked up alongside her and put his arm over her shoulder. “We’ll make it, I just know it.”

  “It’s pretty out here,” she said, a gentle smile on her face.

  He gave her a tender look. Even with the weight of death hovering over her, she could still see the beauty in eve
rything.

  She spotted a small flowering bud coming from a weed, bent down and picked it. “Look, Daddy, a flower.” She brought it to her nose and sniffed.

  “I don’t think it’s that type of flower.”

  “Can I keep it?”

  “Of course.”

  “It will remind me of being here. Call it a keepsake,” she said.

  “C’mon, Hannah, let’s get back on the road,” he said and took her hand.

  The two walked back to the car.

  He opened her door and let her climb in. He walked around to the driver’s side, but before he opened the door, he inhaled deeply. The crisp cool air smelled good.

  Hannah cried out, “Daddy.”

  He opened his door and got in. “What’s wrong?” He saw her staring into the visor mirror, terror all over her face.

  “Daddy, no,” she cried.

  “Honey, what’s wrong?”

  She faced him and then he saw it: a dark red bloody mark was in the corner of both her eyes. He hadn’t noticed when they were outside, but then again he hadn’t stared at her face.

  “It’s the first sign, isn’t it?” she moaned.

  He couldn’t answer her; instead he leaned over and embraced her. “We’re going to make it to the island, don’t you worry.”

  She was right, blood-colored eyes was the first symptom of the disease. This was now confirmation that she had it and meant that the clock had officially begun. He had seven days from now to find her a cure or pray that she was among the less than ten percent who would survive.

  OUTSKIRTS OF DALHART, TEXAS

  Two men threw Emily to the floor. She scurried to run off, but they quickly grabbed her and held her still.

  Sitting in a chair adorned like a throne, Emile held a glass in one hand and a long knife in the other. “Sister, sister, sister.”

  “Emile, please let me explain,” Emily cried.

  “How do you explain away the fact that you helped that woman get away? How do you explain that you let her beat me, and stole that new car?”

  “She made me do it,” Emily lied.

  Emile shook his head and said, “No, she didn’t. You chose to do it, just like you did years ago. You’ve been wanting to leave since we came here, and I don’t know why. How is it that you’re my sister yet you don’t care about our relationship? I’m not just disappointed that you let that woman beat me, I’m heartbroken.”

  “I’m sorry. Please forgive me,” Emily begged.

  “What should I do with you this time? One man is dead because of you.”

  “Please, Emile, forgive me this one last time. I won’t ever do it again, please,” she pleaded. Tears ran down her face.

  Emile motioned for the two men to leave the room. When the door closed, he stood and walked over to her. He squatted in front of her and lifted her head. He looked deeply into her eyes and said, “What should I do with you?”

  “Forgive me.”

  “You know I can’t do that this time, not after you killed Jay. No, there must be a consequence for your actions.”

  “Just don’t kill me, please,” she cried.

  “What other choice do I have? How do I go tell Jay’s brother that I’ve let you live. You know our rules, an eye for an eye. By those rules you should die for what you did, and he can then consume you.”

  She reached out to him, but he pulled back.

  “Tell me another way and I’ll try to make it happen. You’re my sister, and I don’t want to see you die, but if I do nothing, I risk my own position,” Emile urged.

  “Let me go,” she replied.

  “I can’t. You should have been smarter and not walked on the road. You should have known we’d come looking for you. Now I’m stuck making a decision that no doubt will result in your death, the death of my own flesh and blood.”

  “Please, Emile, please,” she cried. “It wasn’t my fault. That woman made me do it.”

  He shook his head and stood. “Stop, just stop.”

  “She took me hostage,” Emily lied.

  “Have dignity at least, Emily. These lies are beneath you.”

  She crawled towards him and sobbed at his feet.

  “Emily, just stop. It’s pathetic,” Emile said. He scooted away from her, leaving her moaning on the dirty floor.

  “I’m going to hand you over to Jay’s brother, Nate. Your fate is in his hands now. If you can convince him to spare your life, then so be it,” Emile said, taking a seat.

  Emily got to her feet and raced to Emile. She dropped to her knees, clasped her hands together as if in prayer, and pleaded, “No, Emile, no, don’t give me over to Nate. You know him, he’s brutal. He’ll rape me then torture me. I don’t deserve this.”

  “I’m sorry, Emily, you did this to yourself,” Emile said, a sadness on his face. “I’ve done everything in my power to protect you, keep you innocent and pure. No man has ever touched you because I want you to stay the beautiful sister I’ve always known.”

  “I’m your sister, your twin sister!” she lashed out.

  “This is the most difficult decision I’ve ever had to make, but I can’t let you go. I can’t show you mercy, because you had a hand in killing Jay.”

  She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

  He leaned down and put his hands on her shoulders and softly said, “Remember when we found Mom and Dad dead?”

  She nodded.

  “What did I tell you then?”

  “To be brave,” she answered, tears streaming down her face.

  “I need you to be brave again. You’re a smart girl, you can survive this, but I can’t have a hand in it.”

  She lifted her head to look at him but saw something else, something she could use to free herself. Not hesitating, she reached out, grabbed Emile’s knife by the handle, and pulled it free of its sheath. With it held firmly in her grasp, she cocked back then came forward and plunged the six-inch blade deep into his chest; the only thing stopping it was the hilt. She removed it and plunged it in again.

  He grunted in pain. The expression on his face shifted from sadness to shock. He clutched at the two wounds. Blood poured freely, drenching his clothes and leaving his appearance ashen. “Why?”

  Fearing that he could cry out, she placed the blade against his throat and slid it across.

  His neck split open and blood oozed out.

  He let out one last gasp then slumped over dead.

  “Sorry, brother,” she said. “But I’m tired of being your prisoner.”

  On a table next to him sat Brienne’s journal. She grabbed it and headed for the rear exit.

  TWELVE MILES NORTHEAST OF LOGAN, NEW MEXICO

  Brienne found cover under a desert broom, an evergreen shrub, and relaxed against her pack. Her mind raced about the events of the past twenty-four to thirty-six hours and how lucky she had been to get away from Emile and his pack of cannibals. Her fear that they’d come after her was now gone, as they didn’t have the means to travel the distance to find her. But after finally experiencing people like that, she’d be more careful. Her goal was to get to Yuma, and if it took her a few more days or even weeks because she was traveling overland versus roads to avoid people, then so be it.

  She pulled out the plastic bottle of water and took a sip. She swallowed and glanced at the half-full bottle. “I need to get some more and soon.”

  The road she was paralleling was a few hundred feet away, and she knew that before long she’d encounter a town or a house; then she’d have to take the risk to secure more water.

  She recalled the notebook she’d found in the Camry and took it out of the pack. She leafed through it to find some random notes, grocery lists and even a couple of pages of tic-tac-toe games. She missed her journal and this would suffice. Writing about her journey had become a habit, and it also served as a form of therapy for her. Having lost it to Emily was upsetting, but she wasn’t someone who clung to things like that.

  After finding a pen, she went to jo
t down the date but had to think hard. She remembered the date from the day before she’d been captured and knew that two days had come after that, giving her the current date. She then backdated and wrote about her entire encounter with Emile and Emily back in Woodruff. She described in detail the holding area with the other people and how Emile had come to see her, a piece of freshly cooked human flesh in his hands. She explained how she’d escaped with the help of Emily and how shortly after she’d abandoned her on the road.

  She stopped and thought about what she’d done. Had she sentenced Emily to death by leaving her there? Or would Emily carry on alone like she had for all these years? Who knew, but when she thought about regret, she had none. Maybe before the world went to hell she would have reconsidered abandoning someone in a dangerous place. But even after everything that had happened in the world, killing and eating another human being seemed like a bridge too far.

  However, there was plenty of evidence from history to show that sort of depravity wasn’t rare. She recalled reading about incidents where desperate people had resorted to such things. In college she took world history, and during her studies of pre-World War Two Europe, she read about how the Soviets under Stalin had sent six thousand people to an island in Siberia called Nazino. They were political prisoners and petty criminals. Stalin’s plan was to allow them to live off the land and be free of support from the state. Under the watchful eye of soldiers, the settlers, for lack of a better word, were deposited with only twenty tons of flour and nothing else. They were given no tools, shelters, equipment, literally nothing. Quickly chaos erupted, and within weeks the people resorted to violence, murder and cannibalism. So to think that after such a short period of time people back in the 1930s were eating each other, now fast-forward to post World War Three America and it seemed reasonable, but still she just couldn’t get her head around it.

  She paused and wondered if she could ever find herself capable of such a thing and quickly dismissed the idea. There were some people who could, and some who would never; she put herself in the latter camp.

  She finished her thoughts and closed the notebook. Leaning back, she stared into the blue sky and watched as the pillowy white clouds slowly moved, their forms changing. Nature didn’t seem to care what had happened. The sun still rose and the moon still appeared in the sky. When looking at the bigger picture of the planet, what humans had done to each other wouldn’t matter. This was just a blip, a microsecond in the existence of the world.