DEVASTATION
Built on Fear 1
Published by Shandy L. Kurth at Smashwords
Copyright © 2011 Shandy L. Kurth
All rights reserved
This book is available in print at Amazon.com
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Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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DEDICATION
For Krisha
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to take a moment to acknowledge my young Cover Artist, Hannah Fishbough. Her amazing talents and perseverance will take her great places. I would also like to acknowledge my wonderful editor John Harten who smoothed the edges of this tale.
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The Marquerings
Date: April 2032
Akron, Ohio
Drip drop, drip drop. The rain falling off the gutters wore on him like Chinese water torture. It had been raining for hours. There was no other sound, just the drip drop of the rain splashing from the crooked gutters. Drip drop.
Fallon watched his fifteen year old sister from across the room. She was reading a book she had read a thousand times, her glasses starting to slide down her nose. What else was there to do now? Nothing. There was nothing. There was no school or work. There was just this house with his dying mother and scared sister. Fallon chewed on his thumb nail as he watched his little sister, wondering what she thought of all of this. He was trying so hard to convince her that it would soon be over; soon life would return to normal. Would it though? He almost knew better and yet he wished and prayed that it would. One day, he told himself, one day it will be the way it used to be, full of sports and dates, fooling around at the movies, and cruising around town with no purpose.
He got up, knowing he had to scrounge something for dinner. He knew when he looked in the cupboard there would be three cans of tomato soup left, a can of sardines, fourteen crackers, half a jar of peanut butter and half a package of cookies. Barely enough to feed two small children, he thought, let alone three adults. Fallon made up two peanut butter crackers, leaving six crackers for tomorrow. He warmed up a can of tomato soup and split it into three bowls. They had eaten too much for a time there, in the beginning, he knew, but there was nothing he could do about that now.
Sandi looked at her helping greedily but ate it slow, savoring every bite. Fallon watched her, wondering what the hell had happened to their normal life. He took one bowl into the other room to his mother. She was thinning into nothing; they all were, but her most of all. She was so pale, her skin fading into her white sheets.
“Here mama,” he said, pulling her up into a sitting position against her pillows. “I have some soup for you.”
“Thank you, hun,” she said as he sat it on her lap.
“How are you today?”
“Oh, I’m still living.”
Barely, Fallon thought watching as she feebly lifted the spoon to her lips. She was forty but looked fifty. Back in the day, she looked good for her age. Not now. She had been sick for two weeks. There were no doctors left in town. Fallon tried to care for her as best he could but nothing seemed to help. She just got weaker before his eyes. How long could she survive? How long could any of them survive?
The Flores’
Akron, Ohio
Emery tried to sleep. The sun was just going down but she didn’t know what else to do. It was dark there in the basement where Mother had left them. “Stay here. You’re safe down here. I love you.” She told them before she fled into the night. They were almost out of food. All that was left was half a box of crackers and some cans of corn. There were no beds in the basement of the apartment building. There were only boxes of old junk and paper work, lots of paper work. Emery and her brother curled up on blankets they had brought down from their apartment when mother had forced them to leave.
“Emery?” Conner called from behind her. Conner was small for his age; he was eight, with penetrating eyes, that seemed to ask a million questions yet contain a million answers at the same time, always thinking. Emery didn’t look at him. He was too old for his age and she hated to see the understanding in his eyes. He had always been too old for his age, smarter than any kid she knew. He sat playing a one person card game that mom had taught him. All of his electronics had died weeks ago.
“Yeah?” Emery answered back.
“Where are we going to get more food when ours runs out?"
“I don't know.” Their mother had left two days earlier to get food; they hadn't seen her since. Emery imagined her finding the U.S. army and being rescued, demanding they find her children. In her fantasy, they would refuse and drag her to safety.
“Emery?”
“Yeah?” the twelve year old asked again, wondering what she was supposed to do if their mother didn't come back.
“You think Mom's dead?”
Emery didn't answer.
Desiree Baldi
Outside of Akron, Ohio
Desiree sat silently in the dirty dank storm drain. She was still in shock, not sure what to do. Memories of her father’s body tortured her thoughts, bloody and disfigured after the bombing. Sixteen years old and alone in this horrible world full of death and chaos. She needed to find somewhere safe. She wasn't even sure that there was somewhere safe. Her dad was sure, but with him no longer by her side, reminding her why it was they had to keep heading south, she was really starting to wonder if there was any point.
She was headed toward Akron on Highway 8, Hudson was no longer safe. Akron probably wasn't either but she had to keep moving. She would just have to see when she got there. Maybe the army would be there. Hopefully the U.S Army. All she knew was that she had to move.
“We are the new government!” the radio had said. Where was the U.S. government? Who knew if there even was a U.S. government anymore. Maybe she was running for nothing.
All she was certain of was that she needed to find food. She wouldn’t have anything to eat soon. Her stomach had been growling angrily at her for two days as she cut back on her supply. The rationing had come at a cost. She was getting weaker with each mile. Her clothes were dirty, covered in mud from the hike and dust from the bombings. Her elbow was killing her; she had landed on it hard, running from the men with guns.
They had been wearing black and gray camouflage uniforms with funny hats. How hot they must have been. They were used to the cold, she wondered who had thought up that stupidity. They would melt in the heat of mid July.
How insane it was for her to even think about their comfort! They had killed her father; she had barely escaped with her own life. She wished they would all boil in their black uniforms. Maybe then they would feel the pain her father had
Guy Gallagher
Hudson, Ohio
Right left, now you’re right, now your left, Guy thought, as he stomped through the ruble that used to be Hudson, Ohio.
“Hey Guy, have you found any?” one of his unit hollered from across what used to be a street with office buildings lining it but was now lined with rubble like you might see in an old war movie. He shuttered realizing what he used to think of as entertainment was now his reality. This street two months ago was probably bustling with activity, people headed to and from work, climbing onto city transport. Now it was leveled. Nothing beneath the debris could have survived.
“A few,” Guy yelled back. He was exhausted, collect the survivors, he had been told, leave the dead. Guy trudged on, rifle heavy in his arms, his feet sore and aching with each step. Left right, left right, he told himself. You can make it. It was so hot. The black of his uniform absorbed the heat trapping it and him inside. Sweat poured down his face. Right left, right left.
“Help me!” someone shouted. Guy stopped in alert, looking around. Who was that? Where? It was a woman’s voice, that he was sure of. “Help! Please!” It was coming from a pile of broken concrete to his right that used to be an apartment building; Guy took off for it digging, tossing head sized chunks of debris left and right. “Please!” A foot appeared, then an arm, finally a face. She was young, probably in her early twenties, blonde hair, blue eyes, she was sobbing, blood everywhere.
“What you got?” The voice surprised him. For a moment, Guy had forgotten what he was doing, and where he was. Sergeant Hale appeared beside him looking down at the girl.
“Please,” she looked up at them, “Please!"
“She’s hurt bad,” the Sergeant said. “She’s no good to us.” The shot cut through Guy’s head. Blood exploded onto his uniform, soaked in and disappeared, mixing with the dirt and filth he had collected throughout the trek. The girl quieted, her eyes going empty. The sergeant grunted and turned away, yelling, “Close up! Close up! Simms, I told you to quit smoking that dope on patrol!”
Guy’s breath caught in his throat. He took a few steps and threw up, the Sergeants callousness pushing him to the edge. What have we done? He thought, what have we done?
The Marquerings
Akron, Ohio
"You have to go, Fallon. Take your sister and find food and water. Try and find the army.” Fallon’s mother’s face was urgent as she looked up at Fallon from her bed.
“I’m not leaving you here!” There his mother lay, sick and dying; he couldn’t leave her; he wouldn't leave her. It was an unimaginable request. There had to be something else they could do.
“I know you’re scared honey, but you have to get food. You need to get your sister out of here.”
Fallon sat in the chair beside his mother’s bed with his face in his hands. He did not feel seventeen; he felt like a little boy again. “You’re the man of the house, and you have to protect your sister.”
“I can’t,” he whispered, his mind going there, traveling alone with his sister, knowing his mother was sick maybe dying. Where would they go?
“You will.” Her voice was so strong and demanding that Fallon looked up from the floor. She was still the same woman who had raised him. She had fed him, sheltered him, cared for him his entire life. Although his father had been around in his early life, it was she who had taught him to ride a bike and throw the ball. She had packed his lunch and quizzed him on his spelling tests. She had been there, cheering at his little league games, and yelling from the stands as he pitched at the state championships his junior year. He couldn’t leave her now, not when she needed him.
He knew, though, that they couldn't make it without food. They had to find something to eat and soon. They could not survive without water. The tap had run dry days ago, and the bathtub they had filled was almost empty. Even before the war began, water had been rationed. Lakes ran dry due to the overuse caused by water powered vehicles, cars and air transport. There were talks of going to an alternate fuel source although no one had decided what the source might be. He walked out of the room, thinking. He would go and find food and water; then he would bring it back.
Fallon paced back and forth in their small living room, his mind rattling with images and thoughts and plans and indecision about leaving. Sandi was a tough girl, not like most girls at school who walked around in heels with their perfect nails. She was real, not as athletic as Fallon but she was active. How long could she make it though, out on the road? Sandi watched him intently. She looked so weak. They had barely eaten in the past four days. He had to go. He had always taken care of her, of Mom, ever since their dad had taken off. He couldn’t let them down now, when they really needed him.
“I’ll bring food back for all of us.”
“Fallon, you two can’t stay here! They’ll come for us. This place won’t be safe for much longer. Take your sister and head south. The bombs will come, Fallon!”
He looked back at his sister sitting in the living room as his mother tried to make him see reason. Sandi looked on silently, almost like she didn’t hear the conversation going on. Her face was a mask. He loved her so much, and he remembered when she would sneak into his room after a nightmare and sleep on his floor.
That night, they packed their backpacks, filling them with things that might be useful, because as unbelievable as it all was, and as strange it felt to leave the home where Fallon had grown up, they had to, his mom was right. The bombs would come, and if they were still there…
They packed a pocket knife, matches, two cups and two bowls and two spoons. They stuffed in two changes of clothes, a coil of rope what had been a clothes line, wire cutters, a flashlight lacking batteries, the small radio, a hammer, a map of Ohio, a small bottle of their mother’s vodka, and two books, Silent Storms and Of Mice and Men, two of Sandi’s favorites. Then they slept. Fallon’s dreams, nightmares of his mother dying in bed, being bombed and losing Sandi.
Their bags were heavy on their backs the next morning.
“I love you both,” their mother said, pulling them to her. “You be careful.” Fallon could tell she was trying not to cry as she watched her children go off into a world at war.
"Sure, sure. Of course we will." Fallon hugged his mother back knowing this was the last time that he would see her; he could hear his sisters quick breaths beside him.
He tried to turn off his mind as they headed out, tried to forget about leaving his mother to die. The sky was grey with dust as it had been for weeks. They had somewhat gotten used to it. The streets were deserted. It was nothing like the lively place it had been before the war. There were always kids out in the yard, playing ball, playing tag. Parent's would be yelling at them to come in for lunch or dinner. Not now. Now it was deserted, the grass over grown, toys left forgotten by the sidewalk.
Fallon thought about his friends Erin and Tyler. Where were they now? They had left, their parents well enough to make the trek. Their wallets full enough. Fallon had done everything with them since middle school. They had played ball together and wrestled together. They had played pranks together, (although Erin usually orchestrated those. He was always the prankster. Fallon chuckled to himself thinking about sophomore year and Erin’s grand idea to move the science teacher’s car.) They doubled dated together and cheated on tests together. Now they were who knew where and Fallon was headed into unfamiliar territory, thinking of only food and protecting his sister.
Street lights and store windows were broken out. Everything had been ransacked. Trash littered the streets, the smell from it tearing at Fallon's nostrils. Cans lay overturned. There were cars along the road; no one wanted to spare the water that it took to fuel them, so they jumped in with other people or headed out on foot. Who knew where the next water station would be, so why waste what they had?
“It’s like something out of a movie,” Sandi said gazing at the overturned street.
“A disaster movie.” She was right. It looked like something out of those old movies where viruses ran ramped and no one was out on the streets anymore because the zombies would get them. Fallon shuttered.
There wasn’t a soul left. They had fled as the first air strikes were reported to have hit Ohio. Those who did stay, huddled in their homes, hoping not to draw the attention of an invading army, as Fallon’s family had done.
Their first stop was a general store not far from their house. There was practically nothing left. A few dessert cakes lay on the ground next to a smashed bag of chips and two bags of twizzlers. They found two cans of pork and beans, and even that little made Fallon worry about the added weight.
“Can I eat something now?” Sandi asked looking longingly at the food Fallon had scooped up off of the floor, tugging on the frame of her glasses.
“We better not. This might be all we find today.”
He unzipped his bag and stuffed the food inside wishing there were more. The store was trashed, bottles of glass were smashed everywhere, racks overturned, magazines and books littering the floor. It looked like animals had been living there. Fallon almost felt like a thief as he left the store with the goodies he had found. His mind flashed back to the one time he had been arrested, not that he had been stealing, he had been fighting but the memory wasn’t pleasant. He shook the thought away.
They walked west on the railroad tracks from Eastwood Avenue until they reached Highway 8. Highway 8 was always busy. If you had to drive it you had better have extra time because you were going to be late. Not that day. That day it was desolate. There was not one moving thing on the road bigger than a piece of trash blowing in the wind. Cars were scattered on the shoulder, out of water, no steam to continue and no place to fill up. Fallon and Sandi trudged on, imagining that those people were out there somewhere too, walking to who even knew where.
"Good thing I bought these new running shoes." Sandi smiled.
Fallon glanced down at her smiling face. "Sure."
The Flores
Akron, Ohio
The food was gone. Emery and Conner were starving. Last night, they had heard bombs in the distance. They were getting closer. Emery knew they would be in Akron soon.
It had been four days since their mother had left. Emery knew she wasn’t coming back. Something had happened to her. She was gone; it was just her and Conner now. They had to fend for themselves not that it was much different from their everyday lives. Their mother had always been a scatter brain. Half the time she forgot that they needed to eat, or be at school, or that they were growing out of their clothes.
Their first priority was to find food. They made a bag out of a sheet, folded some clothes inside and headed out into the light of the new day.
Conner hummed as they walked. It clawed at Emery's raw nerves. It took them ten minutes to walk to the steam station a few blocks away. The place looked like someone had driven a car through it. Emery’s heart raced as they stepped through the shattered front window, glass crunching under their tennis shoes. She found a couple of boxes of crackers, some gummy bears, and gum; that’s all that looked edible. Everything else left in the store was smashed into the tile. Emery wondered what on Earth had happened. It smelled like rotten meat and she wanted to get out as quickly as possible.
They dug into one of the boxes of crackers. They were cheese covered and tasted amazing. The kids sat on the corner for awhile, munching on crackers. It was a small box and they quickly devoured it.
“Open the other,” Conner said eagerly.
“No, no I think we better save it for later, in case we don’t find any more food for awhile.”
“C’mon, sis, there has to be more. When we find everyone else, there’ll be more.” She looked down at her brother, maybe he wasn’t that grown up.
They left the store heading east on Market, toward Highway 8. They both walked silently. Emery was trying to smother the fear of having no idea where they were going or where they would sleep that night. Somebody would help them, she was sure. Emery didn’t see anyone though. The streets were empty. Where was everybody? She started getting scared. She was alone with Conner, with no food and no shelter and no adults. Maybe they should turn around and go back. At least the basement would keep them out of the weather. What if it rained, or got really hot? Emery stood motionless on the sidewalk for a minute rethinking her move. She squeezed Conner’s hand for reassurance. She knew she couldn’t freak out, or he would too.
“Look!” Conner called, pointing toward a house on a corner. It was a cute little house, with a bay window and a chain link fence around the side. A face was at the window, a little girl.
“Come on,” Emery said, tugging at Conner. For some reason, the little girl scared her. She looked so sad standing there. Emery felt guilty leaving her. What if she was all alone? What if she wasn’t? There had to be an adult in there that would take them in. Emery kept going though. She thought of stories she had heard of kids getting kidnapped. You never talk to strangers, her mother had told her all of her life. That thought forced her on, into the unknown, but seeing the girl also gave her hope that there were other people still alive.
"There might be people in there. I mean, did you see that little girl?" Conner said, resisting Emery as she tried to drag him forward.
"Let's just keep going."
"But they could have food in there."
"It's too dangerous. That girl—"
"Yeah, she was kind of creepy looking, huh?" He gave up the struggle, moving on. "Like that girl in that movie, you know the scary one where that place is all haunted and people are getting murdered everywhere?"
So Emery wasn't the only one who found the girl a bit creepy. "Where did you watch that movie? Mom doesn't let you watch that crap."
"At Cameron's."
"Figures."
Cameron was long gone by now along with everyone else they knew. Why hadn’t they left when the others had left? Maybe if they had left earlier, mother would still be with them. Emery’s mind flashed back to the bombings they had heard the night before. They had both lay silently in the dark wondering if the next one would land on them.
“Jeez, this is going to be a long trip, isn't it?" Conner complained. It wasn’t really that hot out yet, only about seventy-five degrees. They had not gone more than a mile.
“We have to keep going, Conner. We need to find more people.”
"If mom actually comes back, she’s gonna be mad at us when we're not there.”
She wasn't coming back though. Emery was sure. She had probably forgotten about them all together.
“Man, I'm already tired. Or maybe just really bored."
“You ride your bike for hours and hours and never would think of the word tired.” She thought back to a less serious time, just her and Conner out on the bike trails racing each other, seeing who could get home first, but really racing the dark, trying to avoid getting grounded for being out past curfew. But mom had sold the bikes, weeks ago to buy food.
“If only,” he said and Emery could tell he was thinking about it too.
Desires Baldi
Outside of Akron, Ohio
Desiree awoke the next morning feeling more exhausted than when she had fallen asleep. Maybe it was better not to sleep. She dug through the duffel bag her dad had packed for them and found one of his shirts. She put her face to it and breathed in his scent. It really hadn’t hit her that he was gone; she would never see him again. He was gone, like Mom was gone.
She found a peanut butter flavored power bar and she ate it slowly, tasting every ingredient wishing she had a heaping plate of hash browns, sitting beside scrambled eggs maybe even a pancake. Her mouth watered thinking about it as she finished off the power bar. When it was gone, her stomach ached for more. She knew better though. She knew she had to save the rest. Breakfast was important; it would get her moving. She planned to make it to Akron by mid-morning. She saw no one and wondered if they were all dead or if they had been smarter than her and her father and left the city in time. It didn’t matter. She would find safety, find the army.
There were no clouds as she walked. That meant no worry of rain. She knew that she would continue on if there was rain, but she prayed that it stayed dry. It was that season, though, time for the sky to open and to dump buckets.
After an hour or so, she passed Silver Lake, but she didn’t see anyone there either. It looked like every other town she passed, deserted and destroyed. Buildings were empty, storefronts broken out, cans over turned, trash littering the streets. The people there had probably heard the coming bombs and lit out of there. Maybe some of them were still in their homes, starving, withering away. She knew what would happen to them if they didn’t leave. The bombs couldn’t be too far off. She had heard them in the distance last night, not wanting to waste time sleeping.
“There isn’t any more food; we have to go now,” her father had said. They had headed out in the dark of night. There were no people, and all the stores were closed down or ransacked. For weeks, people had fled south ahead of the approaching bombs. Some had left scared of what the radio said, and what it threatened. Where were they going though? Hopefully south. People panicked when they heard of the attack, fled. She didn’t know if south was really the right way, the safe way, if there was any, but that’s all she had.
“You, little girl!” a voice called out to her. Desiree's hand flew quickly into her bag to close her fingers around her father’s .9 millimeter. Her and her father had run into dangerous people up north, people who wanted everything because there was no law anymore, people who would rob you and beat you, not because you had more than they did, or because they needed your supplies, just because they could. She turned to see a man who was probably twenty-eight or so. He was hanging out of a store window in Silver Lake.
“What?”
“Where are you headed?”
“Akron!” she called back. He was dirty looking, and skinny, although she doubted she looked any better. She didn’t for a second take her hand off the pistol. He had a strange look in his eyes and she wished desperately that her father was there.
Your thumbs should always be parallel, Desiree remembered her father saying, standing in a field with a pistol in her hand, aiming at paper targets tacked to hay bales. Guns were a bit of a rarity. They had been outlawed just before she was born, only law enforcement and military were aloud them. Her father had been a detective and she now held his standard issue .9 millimeter berretta. The kick had scared her at first, she had closed her eyes as she pulled the trigger, aiming at the paper target, but they practiced often and she became confident with the gun in her hand.
She kept her eyes on the man.
“There’s food in here,” he offered, swinging back from the doorway, but not far enough that he couldn't see her.
Desiree looked around for a minute. Should she follow him? Her heart was beating hard in her chest. She needed the food. She knew she would not last long with what she had. She looked back at him. The way he carried himself was throwing warning bells, the smug look across his face. Was there really food in there?
She crossed the street toward the store. She needed the food if there was food inside like he said and if he was bad news she would deal with whatever came. He moved to let her by. There was food, a lot of it. He had pulled it out from the back. The front of the store was completely trashed, but it seemed no one had bothered to check the stockroom.
There were bags of chips, cookies, crackers and protein bars. She stuffed as many protein bars in a plastic sack as she could fit, (she knew they were the most important) along with some chips and crackers. The man sat back and watched, eating a bag of Cheetos, not taking his eyes off of her. There were bottles of water too. She opened one and drank it greedily. She stuffed as many as she could in her duffel.
“Where you from?” he asked.
“Hudson,” she said, opening a bar and taking a bite, not daring to sit down with the man so close by.
“Oh, right. Flattened?”
“Yeah."
“Yeah, I’m from Cleveland. Why are you headed to Akron? It’s probably next on the list.”
“I thought maybe I would find some people there. And I heard we were supposed to head south.”
“Forget the south," he said, hopping off of the counter and scooping up a water bottle. "I’m headed east, to the mountains. They have no reason to bomb out in the middle of nowhere. I’ll just set up camp out there until this is all over.”
“You think it’s just going to end?” Desiree rolled her eyes. He would die out there, freeze to Death.
“No, you’re the one who thinks this will end. I got news for you, little girl: there is no U.S. anymore. I’m going to go camp in the mountains until the Canadians tear this place apart and get all settled in, and then I’m going to waltz in and act like I’m one of them and that will be that.” He looked smugly at her as she devoured her bar.
“You’ll freeze to death in the winter.”
“I know how to rough it.”
“Well, good luck with that,” Desiree said, pulling the strap of her duffel back over her shoulder. She tied her sack of food on the outside. This guy was too confident for his own good. Arrogance would get you killed in these conditions. “I’m going to find the Army.”
“Come with me, why don’t you?” the man said taking a step toward her and grabbing her bad arm. She wrapped her good hand around her gun again.
“I think I’m going to go to Akron. Good luck.” She kept her voice steady but her adrenaline had spiked, she could feel her cheeks flushing.
“Come on, I’ll be up there all by myself, no woman to keep me company.”
Desiree didn’t like the look in his eye nor the grip he had on her arm.
“Let go.”
“Come on, you could be the last woman on Earth for all I know. Do us both a favor.”
“I said let go!” She pulled the gun on him, her hand quivering only slightly. He stepped back. She pulled her other hand up to secure the weapon, thumbs parallel.
“Sorry—it’s been weeks since I talked to anyone.”
“Well I stopped and I talked. Now I’m leaving.”
“Okay.” He took a couple steps away from her, his hands raised.
She backed up, not taking her eyes off of the man until she was a good hundred feet away and then she continued on down Highway 8.The sun was high in the sky when Desiree hit Akron. There were still no clouds, and the air was thick and soupy. She wished that she had her paints, it was a beautiful day and she would have loved to get it down on paper. There was a small discoloration to the northwest, smoke clouding the sky from the bombings, and the northeast was beautiful and blue. She would have loved to get down the contrast. It was war, and her body ached like hell, and her feet were raw, but nature was still nature, and it was beautiful.
At home she would sit for hours, even days, painting. On cloudy days she would bunker down and let the dreariness of it take her, her paint brush moving along the paper almost without her help, dark colors swirling together. On days like today, her mood would change with it, brighten the colors that found their way to paper. She sighed.
Akron looked like Hudson had before it had gotten hit; it pulled her from her daydream. There was no one around. Cars lined the streets, out of steam or broken down. Not a lot of cars, but enough to depress her that there were cars around that no one could use.
She continued on. Akron was a hopeless case. She had food; there was nothing else she needed from there. The store guy was right. It would probably be the next place to be bombed. How many people sat huddled in their homes? How many would die when the bombs came? She wasn’t going to be one of them and with that thought in mind, she picked up her pace.
Guy Gallagher
Outside of Akron Ohio
Guy lay in a sleeping bag that night thinking of the girl the sergeant had murdered. She had been barely older than he was. He wondered about her life. Maybe she was somebody’s wife, surely a girl as pretty as she was. Maybe she even had kids of her own. He tried to bury that thought. He couldn’t think about those things. Not if he wanted to stay sane. He had to stay focused on the mission. Do what he was told, keep his nose clean so he could go home to his own family.
Guy had been on foot for forty-eight days. The war had started forty-eight days ago. They put all possible traitors on the frontline. All those that had to be threatened into submission were sent first. The first week had been full of bombings and return fire from the army. The Canadians had won of course, pushed the U.S. back on its own territory. After that, the U.S. army seemed to hang back. There had been small counterattacks here or there, but they had come in with such force the army had crumbled, leaving civilians to fend for themselves.
Guy and the Canadians had started their invasion in Minnesota, working their way south and east, devastating every city in their path. They were to round up the survivors, kill the injured and leave the dead for the next line that would dispose of them. Guy felt sick to his stomach thinking of what he had seen, what he had done.
The morning came too soon and Guy was up before the sun. Breakfast was barely edible. The officers were awake early, devising their plan to bomb Akron. It was a medium sized town with a population of two hundred and seventy thousand people and the plan was to strike that afternoon. They would strike hard and fast. That was always how it went, strike hard and fast, capture the survivors, kill the injured, leave the dead, day after day after day. For your family, he told himself, for your family.
The Marquerings
Walking Down Highway 8
“Wait! Come back, please!” It was a car, a black Ford Lux2. It was older, maybe a 2023. The car slowed fifty feet from them and then stopped. Fallon and Sandi ran toward it, Fallon’s heart beating hard at seeing people in this seemingly empty place. They were the only other people the kids had seen in two weeks, ever since their neighbors had decided to head out on foot.
The guy in the driver’s seat rolled the window down a crack. He was older, probably forty or so. A woman sat beside him and a small girl in the back seat.
“Can we come with you?” Fallon blurted out before he could stop himself. They had a car. They could gain ground so much quicker in a car.
“No.” The car started to roll.
“No, wait!” the woman shouted, and the car jolted to a stop.
“We can’t take them. We have to save this stuff for ourselves.”
“They’re just kids,” she said, her eyes wide, unable to pull her gaze off of Sandi.
Fallon stood, his mouth hanging open at the man's response. This could be their ticket to safety.
“Are you guys hurt?” the man asked, his eyes giving Fallon a once over.
“No, but…we don’t have very much water…and…” Sandi looked desperate as Fallon glanced back at her, her eyes wide, her mouth hanging open. This family wasn’t going to give them a ride. They were going to leave them there to be killed by the bombs.
“We can’t take you with us. I’m sorry, but I have to think about my family first.”
“At least give them some water.” The woman sounded close to tears. The man hesitated before reaching into the back and grabbing a jug of water.
“Here, you kids keep heading south.”
Fallon took the water from him.
“We got wind that the army has states barricaded down there. Stay out of the major cities.”
“Sure,” Fallon said, his shoulders dropping a bit.
“We’re really sorry, we would if we could.” He rolled the window up then and drove away, leaving Fallon and Sandi to look after themselves. What a selfish world this had become. How could they live with themselves? He could never do that. He would never do that.
“It’s okay,” Fallon said, putting his arm around his sister. She was trying to keep herself together, he could tell. Selfish bastards. No care for the other people in this world, this war. How the hell were they supposed to defeat an enemy if they couldn't even help each other out? “Here take a drink of this. Yeah, that’s enough. We have to save it.” Fallon didn’t take a drink. He wanted to save as much as possible. They would need it, he knew.
A noise off to their right made them both jump. It sounded like the scuffling of feet. Fallon’s eyes surveyed the area but he saw nothing.
“There will be people,” a girl’s voice came from the other side of the hill. Fallon and Sandi froze, looking back from where they had come. They had probably hiked five miles since they had left the house. They had to be getting close to Krumroy.
“Maybe we are the last ones left. Maybe it's just us and that little ghost girl.”
"She was not a ghost."
And then there they were. Fallon watched as a girl and a boy walked over the peak of the hill. The girl looked eleven or twelve and had blazing red hair pulled back in a ponytail. She clutched the hand of a little boy. He was small, maybe seven, Fallon thought, with hair falling over his eyes. She pulled the boy across the pavement.
The kids stopped when they spotted the teenagers. Fallon and Sandi walked back toward them. “Hi,” Sandi said. The younger kids looked scared at the sight of the teens, the girls eyes darted back and forth between Sandi and Fallon as if she might run if they moved too quickly. “Are you guys okay?”
The girl clutched the boy closer. “You guys aren’t hurt are you?” Sandi asked again.
The little girl shook her head. The four stood facing each other silently for a minute, neither moving. Fallon watched as the girl looked them over, her eyes uneasy, shifting between the two. She was trying to decide if she should be scared.