Seven Days: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel

by G. Michael Hopf

  Michael placed some personal effects on the graves, turned, and walked up to the truck. “I’m ready to leave.”

  “I’m packed, so if you’re ready, I’m ready.”

  He looked at the graves again then to the charred and smoldering remnants of the house. The only thing left standing was the brick fireplace.

  Michael opened the door to the truck and got in. He slammed the door and sat silent, staring out the cracked and bug-splattered windshield.

  Brienne got in the cab but didn’t start the truck. She shifted in her seat to face Michael. “How are you doing?”

  “I don’t want to talk,” Michael growled, anger showing in his sharp response.

  “I know what you’re feeling must be—”

  He glared at her and snapped, “I don’t want to talk.”

  She raised her hands as if surrendering. “Sorry. I thought you might want to talk.”

  “Well, I don’t. Can we just go?”

  “Listen, Michael, I know you’re hurting, just know that I’m here to listen if you want,” Brienne offered.

  “Can we just go?”

  She turned the key and fired up the truck. “We’re fortunate to have a truck though. That will make traveling much easier.”

  “Well, I’m glad you feel we’re lucky. I just lost my entire family. I watched my mother and Nana die right in front of me. But hey, you got a truck, so you can drive to see your family!” he cried out.

  She was tempted to reply but kept quiet. She knew anything she said now would only fall on deaf ears. Michael was suffering deeply and needed time to process.

  “So if you’re done feeling lucky, can we leave? If I stay here any longer, I’ll just go and jump into the hot coals of what was my house.”

  Brienne put the truck into gear and drove down the driveway. As they passed through the gate, Michael started to cry quietly. He turned away so she wouldn’t see. A motherly desire to comfort him welled up inside, but she kept her distance. She saw there was an aftermarket CD player in the truck. She turned it on, and instantly rap music began to blare.

  Angrily, Michael hit the player and turned it off. “I want peace and quiet.”

  “Sorry,” Brienne said. She rolled down her window a crack to let in some fresh air.

  “Can you put that up? It’s cold in here,” Michael spat.

  She’d had enough. She slammed on the brakes, bringing the old squeaky truck to an abrupt stop. She shifted in her seat to face him and said, “It’s perfectly fine for you to be upset, angry, pissed, you name it, but you don’t get to treat me poorly. I didn’t harm you. I wasn’t the one who killed anyone in your family. I’ve helped you since day one. I’ll not play music or roll down my window or even talk to you after this, but please don’t think you have the right to take your anger, your sorrow, out on me.”

  He sat sulking and staring out the passenger-door window.

  “Do you hear me?” she asked.

  He sat silent.

  “Michael, do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, and believe me when I tell you that I’m on your side, I’m here for you. We’re in this shit show called life together now.”

  He remained quiet. Tears gently slid down his cheek and clung to his jaw and chin.

  Brienne positioned herself behind the steering wheel again, adjusted her ponytail, and drove off.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  TWO MILES NORTH OF YUMA, ARIZONA

  “Yuma city limits! We made it, it’s hard to believe, but we’re here,” Reid said. He gave Emily a glance in the rearview mirror to catch her response, but she glared at him. It appeared to him she was still upset about being rejected. He hated that he might end their time together on such a sour note. “Ah, tell me, where exactly am I dropping you?”

  She remembered the address, as she had it seared into her memory. “14587 Fort Yuma Road.”

  “You don’t know how to get there?”

  “No, I only have an address,” she answered. Her tone matched the harsh glances she had been giving him.

  “Best I pull over,” he said and slowed the car down to a stop on the highway. “This bridge should be safe,” he said, referring to where they’d stopped. It was still dark outside, but soon the sun would be rising. He took out a map he had of the southwest and checked to see if it had a detailed map of Yuma, but it didn’t. “Nothing.”

  “Do you think we’re safe here?” she asked.

  “I don’t see anything, but this is an overpass. I didn’t pass anyone coming onto it, and there’s no one ahead of us, nor are there cars or stuff to hide behind. Yeah, this is probably okay.”

  She opened her door and stepped out.

  “You taking a break and a stretch?”

  “Yeah,” she said and slammed the door.

  Reid continued to look for any map that might show a detailed view of Yuma but came up short. He then thought of stopping by the first gas station and finding one. He then recalled it was a new day and that it was time to give Hannah the booster from Hillary. He grabbed the bag, opened it, and removed the vial and syringe. He filled the syringe half way per her instructions. Using an alcohol swab, he cleaned her upper left arm and stabbed the needle into her arm.

  Hannah squirmed and opened her eyes. “Daddy.”

  Reid quickly injected the dose and removed the needle. Using another alcohol swab, he wiped the area he’d injected.

  “Daddy, where are we?” Hannah asked.

  “Yuma, that means we’re close to California. We could be seeing the ocean by midafternoon at the earliest.”

  Hannah smiled, her eyes half open, and said, “I can’t wait.” She rolled onto her right side and dosed off.

  Emily walked up and tapped on his window. “I need you to see something.”

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Let me show you.”

  He checked on Hannah, who was sleeping, and got out of the car. He closed the door and was face-to-face with the muzzle of her pistol. He laughed. “Is this your way of flirting? Because it might work.”

  “Give me the fob,” she ordered.

  “Wait, you’re taking the car?”

  “Yeah, I’m taking the car and your stuff, minus the drugs for Hannah,” Emily said.

  “Don’t do this, please. I need to get to the coast. I’m probably only a half day’s drive now. Please don’t do this.”

  “I’m doing it. Now give me the fob,” she said and moved the muzzle closer to his face.

  “This isn’t you. You’re not this kind of person,” he said, his hands raised.

  “You’re a fool. I am like this. I’m a broken person. You just saw a pretty face and thought I was something you wanted me to be.”

  “Emily, I need this car to get me to the coast. Please don’t abandon me and Hannah.”

  “You can take the drugs, some water and food, but I get the car.”

  “You’re killing her by leaving us here. You’re killing her,” Reid said.

  “I won’t ask again,” she said, this time placing the muzzle against his forehead.

  “So you’ll shoot me, then what, kill Hannah?”

  “Maybe I will.”

  “No, this isn’t who you are, I know it; you’re angry, you feel rejected.”

  She laughed heartily. “You think I’m mad because some old man won’t fuck me?”

  “Can we please talk about this? I’ll take you to find a car, okay; but please don’t leave us here.”

  “This is my last request. Give me the fob, now.”

  “Emily, please,” Reid urged.

  Frustrated, she shifted the muzzle off his forehead, pointed it just slightly away from his face, and pulled the trigger.

  The roar of the gun firing was deafening.

  “Fine,” he said as he dug through the front pocket of his pants. He pulled out the fob and held it out in his open hand. She went to snatch it, but he turned his hand and dropped it on the ground.

  “I�
�m not fucking around, Reid. Now pick it up.”

  “You’re right, that was stupid, but you have to understand that car is my little girl’s life,” he said.

  “Pick it up,” she barked, her frustration growing.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll pick it up,” he said and bent down. He scooped it up and looked at it for a brief moment. He probably wouldn’t get any closer to her than he was now. If he gave her the car, Hannah would certainly die and he might too. Letting Emily leave them was a death sentence for Hannah, which meant he had to fight back. Giving in gave him zero options. His only sure bet was to try to disarm her. The second he needed to pick up the fob was enough time to make this critical decision. As he began to stand, he lunged forward, wrapped his arms around her waist, and launched them both through the air.

  They came down on the hard pavement; she landed on her back.

  The force of the tackle caused her to accidentally discharge the pistol, the round shooting high into the sky.

  He straddled her. With his left hand he held her hand with the pistol down on the ground; then he cocked his right fist back and punched her as hard as he could in the face.

  The single punch dazed her, but she was still conscious.

  Seeing that she was still capable, he leveled another punch. This time it knocked her out. He pulled the pistol from her grip, tossed it aside, and checked her for any other weapons. He found two knives and tossed them as well. With her out cold, he now got to his feet, opened the back door, grabbed her backpack, and tossed it out. He looked at her sprawled out on the ground and felt the opposite of what most people would: sympathy. He did truly believe she wasn’t a bad person, but a good one making horrible decisions. What he didn’t know, though, was this was the second time in a week that she’d been left on the side of the road. He jumped back in the driver’s seat, engaged the car, and sped off.

  Hannah opened her eyes and asked, “What was that noise?”

  “It was nothing. Now go back to sleep,” he said. He saw the road sign for the interstate, made the turn, and roared onto the freeway. Within a mile he was crossing the Colorado River and passed a large blue sign that read WELCOME TO CALIFORNIA.

  SIX MILES EAST OF HOLBROOK, ARIZONA

  Brienne’s back was sore from the twelve-hour drive, which only saw one stop to refuel. She needed a break and thought the open desert was as good a place as any.

  The cloud cover that had hidden the blue sky for days was gone. She marveled at the deep blue and the crescent moon that still lingered just above the horizon to the west, with the sun just making its appearance to the east.

  “I need some sleep,” she said.

  Michael looked around, taking in the scenery. “Sure.”

  “I wish you could drive,” she said, not thinking about his answer.

  “I can try.”

  “Best not, could you stay up, though? Be my eyes while I shut mine,” she said and leaned down to rest her head against the top of the seat. She yawned and shifted around until she found a comfortable position.

  “I’m sorry,” Michael blurted out.

  She opened one eye and gave him a look. “About what?”

  “You know, back at the house.”

  “Don’t think anything about it.”

  “I was afraid. I still am, I suppose,” he confessed.

  “Seriously, it’s okay. I understand.”

  He rested his head on his hand and peered out at the rolling hills dotted with shrubs and brush. “What scares you? I mean, what are you afraid of? I ask only because you don’t seem afraid of much.”

  She wanted to protest his questions then thought that he was now ready to talk, so she’d better oblige. “A lot scares me.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  She yawned again. “I’m more afraid than you think I am. I just channel my fear, let it work for me. You have to remember that fear doesn’t exist; it’s only in your head.”

  “You’re always afraid?”

  “Not always, but a lot. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid of this trip we’re going on. Heck, I’m afraid whenever I’m on the road. I’ve noticed that I’ve seen fewer and fewer people over the years, but the road can be a very dangerous place. I channel my fear, use it to be more diligent about what I do, I focus more; but if I lived in a constant state of paralysis from my fear, I would never have left Germany.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “It’s okay to be afraid. It’s how you handle that fear that says everything about you and your character as a person,” Brienne said.

  He nodded, showing he acknowledged what she was saying.

  “My greatest fear, finding that my family is dead and that I could’ve been there to prevent it,” she confessed.

  He shot her a look of surprise. “That’s your greatest fear?”

  “It sure is. I can handle running into bad people on the road, but to find my family dead when I get there is definitely the most frightening thing I can imagine experiencing.”

  “Do you regret leaving?”

  She was now growing weary of the conversation but decided to keep going for his sake. She knew he was the one getting therapeutic help from it more than her. “I do regret leaving.”

  “You left for a job, right?”

  “Yeah, but when I look back, I see how foolish it was. I was shortsighted, thinking that while the world was suffering from the virus and the war, it would eventually go back to being normal. It clearly didn’t, and I became a prisoner of my own arrogance and ignorance. Now I’ve been separated from my family for almost nine years. I haven’t heard from them or seen them,” she said and sighed heavily. “If I could do it all over again, I would have stayed. People used to say you can’t have regrets in life, but that’s a nice meme when the world is predictable and safe, but when your actions lead you to not seeing your family for such a long time, then I think it’s safe to say it’s a regretful act.”

  “I regret not acting sooner yesterday. I should have stood up and gone after those men before they had a chance to shoot Nana.”

  She sat up slightly and said, “You can’t do that to yourself.”

  “Why not? My inaction led to her being shot. I could’ve probably stopped it if I had gotten up sooner.”

  “You’ll eat yourself alive with guilt if you think that way,” Brienne said.

  “But you just said that some actions are regrettable. My inaction yesterday might have cost their lives,” Michael said.

  “Or you could have stood up, been shot, then they could have been shot right after you,” she said, posing him another possibility.

  “I’ve been running every scenario, and I could’ve stopped them, I know it,” Michael declared.

  “If what happened yesterday makes you a better person today and tomorrow, then I’d be good with that.”

  He looked at her and asked, “Did you really save me because I reminded you of your son?”

  “I said you’re about his age today, so yeah, I saw him in you and thought that if Dustin was being chased, I hope someone would save him too,” Brienne answered honestly.

  “I look forward to meeting him and your husband.”

  She yawned deeply. “Listen, I need to get some sleep. Keep your eyes peeled and wake me for anything that’s out of the ordinary or if someone is coming our way.”

  “Okay.”

  She slid back down in the seat, rested her head against the back of the seat, and quickly dosed off.

  YUMA, ARIZONA

  Emily’s feet ached and she prayed that the sign ahead was for the road she was looking for. She covered the distance, and when the words came into focus, she smiled. “Well, hello there, Fort Yuma Road.” She was close now, close to seeking her revenge and closer to her final destination, Loreto. She’d been through a lot to get here, and hopefully what she was about to do would give her satisfaction, but she wouldn’t know until she did the deed.

  Happy to have this leg of her trip almost over, she proc
eeded down the long and straight single-lane road straddled by desert. In the distance she spotted a lone ranch-style house. Was that the house? she thought.

  She approached the mailbox, and there in bold black numbers was the address she was seeking. She glanced to the house, which sat about two hundred feet off the road, but saw nothing that told her anyone was there. There was a chance that Brienne had beat her there, but she doubted it. For some uncanny reason she felt she’d gotten there first.

  “Well, only one way to find out if anyone is at home,” Emily said and headed down the gravel drive. Her situational awareness was high as she scoped each window, watching for a blind to move or a head to pop into view, but nothing.

  Now mere feet from the front door, confidence started to wash over her. She could feel that she’d beaten Brienne there, giving her the upper hand she wanted. She walked down the concrete sidewalk and up to the front door. A small window next to the door gave her an opportunity to peek inside, which she did but saw no movement. In fact, the place looked like it hadn’t been lived in for years. She tried the front door and surprisingly found it unlocked. She pushed the door open and called out, “Hello?”

  No reply.

  Cautious, she removed the Glock 17 from her waistband and held it firmly. She had been shocked to find it on the road. She could only imagine that Reid was still looking out for her. She had plenty of time to think about what she’d tried to do, and she wished she hadn’t.

  She took a step closer and called out, “Hello? I’m here as a friend, so don’t hurt me.”

  Silence.

  She stepped over the threshold and into the tiled-floor foyer. A small table to her right held a small basket, and in it were car keys, mail, pocket change and an assortment of other items one would dump from their pockets. She glanced down at the mail and saw the name she was hoping to see: Brienne. “Looks like I found the right place.”