Seven Days: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel

by G. Michael Hopf

  Emily watched her from the living room. She got what she came for but now felt like a perverted voyeur watching a sickening reality show of a person’s life being destroyed and made meaningless. Unable to stay, she grabbed her pack, which she had hidden in the coat closet, and headed out the front door. She saw the truck then saw Michael.

  In return, Michael saw her and sprang into action. He grabbed the Glock, brought it up, but was met by Emily with her pistol pointed directly at his head.

  “I don’t want to kill you, so please do me and you a favor and just get out of the truck,” Emily threatened.

  Michael gulped loudly, set his pistol on the seat, and said, “I’m going to open the door. Don’t shoot me.”

  “Hurry up,” Emily snapped.

  “Where’s Brienne?” Michael asked as he opened the door and swung it wide enough to step out.

  “She’s getting reacquainted with her family,” Emily sneered.

  Michael slid out of the cab and stepped several feet away, his arms held high.

  Not wasting a moment, Emily ran around and got behind the wheel. She turned the ignition; the truck fired up. “This really is my day!” She tossed her pack next to her, put the truck into gear, and backed out of the driveway. She cut the wheel hard, put it in drive, and sped off, leaving a cloud of dust behind her.

  Inside, Brienne heard the truck drive off but didn’t care. Her life was over as far as she was concerned. Emily had been right; she had abandoned her family for money they didn’t need with hopes of expanding her career. She didn’t need to go, but she did, and now she was confronted with the consequences of that act. She glanced back at Jake’s body and sobbed uncontrollably. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Brienne!” Michael cried out from the foyer.

  Brienne ignored him.

  Michael made his way through the house and ended up at the master bedroom doorway. There he found Brienne exactly where Emily had left her. “That woman took the truck.”

  “I failed them. They’re dead because of me,” Brienne sobbed.

  Michael hadn’t noticed the body in the bed until then. At first he recoiled from the sight, then leaned closer to see who it might be. “Is that…”

  “Dustin’s buried out back,” Brienne cried.

  He went to her side, put his hand on her shoulder, and said, “I’m sorry, Brienne, I truly am. We'll get through this together, no matter what.”

  She had no more words, only tears. She put her head in her hands and sobbed.

  SAN FELIPE, BAJA CALIFORNIA, MEXICO

  When Emily officially crossed the border, it marked the first time she’d ever traveled outside the United States, a designation that really meant nothing anymore. Now she was one hundred and twenty miles into Baja, with no issues or obstacles in her way. She’d seen an occasional person riding by on a bicycle or driving an old car or truck; she didn’t see many people. Having never been to Baja, she chalked it up to it being a rural area, which it was.

  She glanced at her fuel gauge and saw she had half a tank of gas, but in the bed were seven five-gallon cans, four of them full, with a syphon to get more if she needed it.

  Ahead of her was a small fishing village, but just beyond that was the vast Sea of Cortez. It spanned the length of Baja California, which stretched seven hundred miles and at its widest point was one hundred and fifty miles. It was by no means a small body of water. She sat staring at the turquoise blue water, the sun’s rays shimmering off it. Her life had been spent in Texas, from birth until the day she escaped the compound; never had she traveled outside its borders, never had she seen the ocean or any water like she was looking at now.

  A tap on the driver’s side window startled her. She snatched the pistol from her lap and pointed it at the glass.

  On the other side was a young girl no older than six. She held up a box of what appeared to be chewing gum wrapped in clear plastic with the name Canel on the side and said, “Chicle?”

  Emily looked all around to make sure no one else was there or that this wasn’t some sort of ruse.

  The girl’s hair was jet black, filthy and hung down to her shoulders. Her small angelic face was smeared with grime and dirt. She again said, “Chicle?”

  Feeling it was safe, Emily rolled down her window manually and asked, “What’s a chicle?”

  “Chicle?” the girl asked once more. She clearly didn’t understand English.

  Emily reached for the box, but the girl pulled away and said, “Comida por chicle.”

  “Comida? I don’t know what that means. I’m assuming chicle is whatever that candy stuff is,” Emily said.

  The girl motioned to her mouth and pretended to eat. “Comida.”

  “Eat…oh, I know, you want food,” Emily said. She grabbed her pack, threw it open, and reached inside. She pulled out the ziplock bag of human jerky, looked at it for a moment, and did consider giving it to the girl. She tossed it on the seat and reached back in, this time coming out with a can of fruit cocktail. She held it out to the girl and said, “Comida.”

  The girl nodded and removed several packages of gum; she held them up in her open palm.

  Emily took the gum and put the can in her small hand.

  “Gracias,” the girl said with a big smile. She turned and ran off.

  Emily watched her until she disappeared behind a berm. She looked at the gum and was curious, so she opened it and popped a piece in her mouth. She bit down, crunched the outer hard shell, and began to chew. The flavor was very sugary and tasted like stale lime. “So this is chicle. I suppose I’ll have to learn Spanish if I’m going to be down here.” She sat and chewed the gum for a few more minutes, then started the truck and drove off. She had no idea what Loreto would be like, but assumed that nothing could be as bad as where she had been living. She did have her regrets concerning the life she had lived, but she also felt that she could find redemption for her past actions, although she did feel that what she and her brother had done was done in the spirit of survival. When she and Emile had arrived with their friends at the compound, they were thirteen and tried to manage to eke out an existence but turned to cannibalism to prevent starvation. It was what it was, she wasn’t proud of it, but she was still alive because of it.

  A big smile stretched her face as she pondered the idea that Loreto might be filled with cannibals similar to the compound where she’d spent a large part of her life. If it were and she were to be eaten, she did find it to be a poetic way to go out. With the shimmering blue water to her left and the Sonoran desert ahead of her, she pressed down on the accelerator and sped off into the unknown.

  SAN CLEMENTE ISLAND, CHANNEL ISLANDS

  OFF THE COAST OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA

  Reid pulled the boat onto the shore and staked an anchor to hold it from drifting away if the tide came in.

  Above him a series of buildings stood where there weren’t any in his memory of the island. He imagined these must have been where the government had located their laboratories. He scanned the beachhead and the rise above, looking for any signs of life, but didn’t see any. “Where is everyone?”

  He picked up Hannah out of the boat and cradled her tight in his arms, her small body tucked close to his chest. The hike up the wide beach to the mid-rise buildings appeared to be about a half mile. It wasn’t a long way, but he was fatigued, and carrying her would no doubt add to his exhaustion.

  “You ready to go, baby?” he asked Hannah.

  She opened her eyes to reveal the whites were still blood red. She mumbled something unintelligible then closed her eyes and drifted off.

  He made the climb up the slope and ended up along a road. Still he saw no one. If this was an active government facility, he would have made contact by now, he assumed. Determined to find what he’d come for, he carried on.

  The gate in the chain-link fence that surrounded the buildings was open, and debris, garbage and an abandoned Humvee sat in the yard. On the gate a sign read SAN CLEMENTE RESEARCH LABORATORIES, DEPART
MENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY.

  “Hello!” he cried out.

  Nothing came back but his echo.

  He walked past the Humvee and stopped in his tracks when he saw skeletal remains in a uniform. Reid was curious how the man had died but quickly pushed it out of his mind and pressed forward.

  Hannah opened her eyes and mumbled, “Is it time for dinner?”

  “No, sweetie, but if you’re hungry, I can get you something to eat,” he said.

  “I…I,” she said then closed her eyes.

  He could tell things were getting close. It was day seven, and this was the day the vast majority of people died.

  The first building he came upon had more skeletal remains out front; again they were in uniforms. One thing that was missing were any firearms. The doors and front of the building were riddled with bullet holes.

  He now knew what had happened. They’d been attacked, and by the looks of it, the government had lost. Any hope he had melted away. There wasn’t any established government operating and more than likely no cure to be found. “Is anyone here?” he called out.

  Nothing, no reply but the ocean wind that barreled down through the empty street.

  “Is anyone here? Please answer me. I need help!” he shouted. He stepped over rubble and a body that lay in front of the entrance of the first building, and crossed the threshold. “Hello?”

  His eyes adjusted to the darkened hall, allowing him to see the debris and bodies continued inside. Each step he took, the hard soles of his boots crunched on glass and small chunks of plaster. There had been a battle there, but who attacked them? he wondered. He stopped at a desk in the entry and saw a security monitor was flickering. Was there power? he asked himself. No lights were on, but maybe they’d turned everything off due to the attack. Scanning the space, he saw a light switch and flicked it on.

  The hall lights came to life, their fluorescent tubes crackling and buzzing. “Power, hmm.”

  Carrying Hannah around as he searched the building wasn’t optimal. He needed to lay her somewhere safe. In the first room he found, he hit the jackpot. It must have been a lounge due to the couches and television. He carefully laid her on the far couch, ensured her head was propped up, and exited the room. As he closed the door, he said, “I’ll be back, sweetie, I promise.”

  With Hannah tucked away, he could navigate the first building and hopefully find what he had come so far for.

  With his rifle now firmly in his hands, he slowly walked down the hall. As he passed the doors, he looked for signs that would simply say LABORATORY, but all he kept finding were offices marked senior staff. It finally came to him that this was an administration building. Getting an idea, he headed to the front desk. He dug through drawers and shifted through the contents on the desk. He then caught sight of what he was looking for, a map. Pinned on the wall behind a calendar was a map of the area. He pulled it down and examined it. On the lower right side was a key, and that was where he found what he was looking for. He was in the right place on the island, and building C was where the labs were. He identified the building he was in as A.

  With the map shoved in his pocket, Reid grabbed Hannah and headed out. He meandered around a jersey wall and concertina wire to get to the entrance of building C. Like the last building, the front of it was shot up, bullet holes everywhere, and on the ground, the remains of bodies. The doors were blasted open, telling the story that explosives had been used.

  “Hello!” he called out. Like the other times, nothing.

  Crossing the threshold, Hannah in his arms, he found a similar layout as building A. To the right was a front desk, and to the left was a lounge. Like before, he set Hannah down and locked her inside. Back in the hall, he went to turn on the lights, but for some unknown reason, they wouldn’t turn on. He raised his rifle and marched down the hallway. As he went, he stepped over large chunks of ceiling and numerous bodies. These, however, were dressed in white lab coats.

  From room to room he went on the first floor but only found destruction and death. All he could assume was they’d been attacked some time ago, and everyone was dead. At the far end of the hall, he found a diagram of the building and saw it had two levels down. Something told him that was where he’d find what he was looking for. He located the stairwell, but before he entered, he gazed down the hall. The only light came in from the outside front doors. He wondered if he should take Hannah with him, then came to the determination that if someone was alive and not welcoming, he’d have a better chance defending himself with both arms to wield a weapon.

  He entered the stairwell. When the door closed, he was immersed in darkness. He dug in his back pocket and came out with a flashlight. He clicked it on and recoiled at the sight just a half floor below.

  Piled four deep were bodies, and by the look of it, they’d been executed.

  He didn’t like the idea of climbing over them, but he didn’t know another way to go. He cringed as he stepped on the bodies, his weight crushing the bones underneath, and the odor could only be described as musty death. After a grueling and unstable few minutes, he cleared the pile and made his way to the first floor below. He opened the door to find the lights were on here. He peeked his head out and looked in both directions. Like everywhere else, the hall appeared to have been the scene of a battle. This floor was different in that instead of walls and doors lining each side, there were large panels of windows, and beyond he spotted what he’d come all this way for, a laboratory.

  He raced to the first door he came to and stepped through the shattered glass panel and into the space. From wall to wall were long stainless steel tables covered in an assortment of instruments. The damage that he’d found everywhere was also here, with much of everything broken and smashed. His heart began to melt as he now began to realize that there probably was no cure, and even if they had made one, there was a good chance it had been destroyed.

  A loud beeping came from the far corner. He spied the location and saw it was a computer monitor. He went to it and found a corpse sitting in the chair, a pistol on the floor next to it. By the look of the person’s skull, it appeared a single shot to the head had ended their life.

  A Post-it note on the screen read PLAY ME with an arrow pointing down to the keyboard. On the keyboard itself, another Post-it note with an arrow read PRESS HERE.

  He assumed it was a message, a video more than likely. Excitement ran through him because now he’d get some type of answer to the question he’d been seeking.

  Reid pressed the button.

  The screen flickered and turned on. The monitor now showed a man in a lab coat.

  Reid looked at the corpse in the chair and said, “That’s you, huh?”

  “My name is Dr. Chang. Today’s date is February 3…”

  Reid paused the video and looked at the time stamp. This video had been recorded four years ago, causing his sense of helplessness to expand. Needing to know more, he pressed the button to continue the video.

  “I am the head virologist assigned to the team searching to create a vaccine for the H5N7 virus that has ravaged the world. Our team was relocated to San Nicolas Island three years ago, and we’ve been steadily and aggressively working. During these three years, we’ve not only been dealing with a lot of heartaches as the country we loved has disappeared, but have had to deal with team members’ personal issues. With the United States government gone, we came to recognize that we now work for humanity. The shock of the devastating nuclear strikes and subsequent collapse of our government led many to question what we were doing and added stress to an already stressful and at times untenable situation. Over the months we’ve lost members. Some killed themselves, and others just left to go search for family members they hoped had survived. Even with all these issues, our team has continued to work hard, and we developed a vaccine strain that had proven to work in initial testing…”

  Reid paused the video again. Hearing the words that they had developed a cure, he almost burst with joy. “So
where is it?” he asked and hit the button to play.

  “…but only appears to help with those that haven’t yet contracted the virus or were in the initial symptoms of it. If a patient had gone into the latter stages of the virus’ course, the vaccine appeared to do nothing. However, this hasn’t stopped us from trying to find something that could help anyone infected. With the first vaccine testing complete, we were attempting to work on outreach with hopes of getting the vaccine distributed. This is where we found trouble, and that trouble came here. Last week the island suffered an attack. It appears our outreach informed the wrong people of our existence.” Chang stopped and cleared his throat. He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  “The attack on the island was overwhelming, resulting in the deaths of many on the team and support staff. The attackers fled without gaining what they wanted, and that was our large stores of supplies. However, the facility has been destroyed, as has the cold storage that held the vaccine and any data on how to create it.”

  Tears began to stream down Chang’s face. “We worked so hard to get where we are, only to have it destroyed by the very people we’re hoping to help. It appears mankind cannot help themselves and that we were truly destined for everything that has happened to us. I sit here now the lone survivor. The others have left me and gone to the mainland, fearing the island would be attacked again. I, though, cannot leave. I have nowhere to go, as my family died in the bombing of San Francisco. I had hoped that my years of experience could be leveraged to help humanity, but I know now that isn’t the case. I want whoever is watching this to know that we tried and had found success only to have it destroyed. I am sorry, deeply sorry that this vaccine couldn’t have been distributed. If you’ve come looking for supplies, we have plenty in the basement of building D. There you’ll find enough food to last ten or more years depending on the number that needs to be fed. I’ll finish with a quote from Longfellow I put to memory while in grad school; it goes like this, ‘Great is the art of beginning, but greater is the art of ending.’” Chang put a pistol to his temple and pulled the trigger.