The boy looked down for a moment, his face returning
to his normal pale color that allowed his freckles to be seen. “I
don’t understand the world,” the boy said.
“Neither do I,” Thomas said.
“I mean, one minute everything is normal…then…”
“Then it all goes to hell.”
“Yeah,” the boy said. “To hell. That’s where I feel
like I am right now.”
“I don’t think you’re alone,” Thomas said, looking
past Clark and Charles. They were heading towards a stream.
“We’ll take this downstream,” Clark said. “Drink up,
everyone. And fill up whatever bottle you have, Charles.
“We need to be careful,” Charles said. “A water
source is a magnet for all sorts of things.”
“But it attracts animals we could use for food,”
Clark said. “And we could use some food pretty soon.”
“Using our guns will attract too much attention,”
Charles said. “Maybe we should find other sources.”
“If we follow this south, which is the way we need to
be going anyway, we should eventually run into civilization. Or
what was once civilization.”
Charles cleared his throat. “Hopefully not an
Imperialist-controlled town.”
Thomas listened as Charles and Clark devised some
sort of plan. Then, as they spoke, he turned to the boy who walked
beside him. “So you never told me your name.”
The boy looked at Thomas and spoke softly. “I’m
Tyler.”
* * *
After following the river downstream, they stumbled
upon a bridge that led them to a small town. Charred remains of
buildings flanked the broken road that split the town in two parts,
both equally desolate.
“Down further,” Clark said. “It looks like there are
some structures that are unscathed down there a bit.”
They continued on and found a corner store that had
slight damage to its brick construction. The glass display window
that bore the store’s name and phone number was spared and fully
intact.
“Bob’s Market,” Charles said, reading the lettering
on the window. “Sounds quaint.”
Clark checked the front door and noticed that its
lock had already been broken. He turned around to look at the rest
of the group. “Stay here while I give it a once-over.”
Clark pushed the door inward and entered the store.
To the right, he saw sunlight flow through the window and
articulate the dust that seemed to hang motionless in the thick
air. He lifted his rifle and scanned the isles, looking for anyone
who may be lurking about. Stepping forward, he listened.
Silence.
He walked through the center isle and saw that the
shelves were mostly bare. Only a handful of cans remained, mostly
near the back of the bottom shelves, likely out of sight from the
looters who swiped the majority of the nonperishable items. He
turned to the right and checked the next isle. Nothing. Finally,
after checking every isle without any incident, he made his way
back to the front door.
“It’s all clear,” he said. “Let’s make this quick,
though.”
Clark entered the store again and heard three other
pairs of feet moving through the isles. “Grab whatever you can. We
can sift through things once we make it back to the woods.”
“Shouldn’t we stay here for the night?” Charles
asked.
“I don’t think we should be near a town over night,”
Clark said. “The army has a lot of scouts roaming about, looking
for rebels who are camping out in structures like this. Our best
bet is to hunker down in the woods. They won’t be able to find us
as easily there, and we can hear them coming if they bother
searching the woods in the middle of the night.”
Clark walked around the back of the counter and
grabbed a few items that were missed by looters. A pack of matches.
A rusty can opener. A few packages of beef jerky. Under the
counter, hidden behind a pile of dusty shopping bags, he found a
battery-powered CB radio.
“Charles,” Clark said. “Do you know what channels are
hot these days?”
“Channel 9 is active, but that’s been infiltrated by
Imperials. Channel 19 is a safer bet.”
Clark switched to channel 19 and waited. “We’ll take
this with us,” he said. “We’ll broadcast along the way.”
“That model might get a half dozen mile range,”
Charles said. “Not too shabby.”
Clark walked to the front door and looked around one
last time. “Let’s go,” he said. “There’s nothing else here we can
use.”
Clark led the way out of the store. Down the ruined
street, he saw the sun nearing the horizon. He knew they had to
make it back to the woods and find a place to camp out before the
sun set. The forest would be pitch black soon enough.
Their feet clapped against the macadam as they went.
Clark looked to and fro, his rifle at the ready for anyone who
tried to harm them. But nobody was there. The town appeared to be
completely desolate.
Clark looked up at a few apartment buildings that had
little damage to them. Drapes that covered one of the windows were
moving slightly, then stopped moving a few seconds later. He
stopped abruptly and stared at the building.
“What are you doing?” Charles asked.
“I thought I saw something,” Clark said.
“What?”
“I don’t know. Let’s keep going. It’ll be dark
soon.”
They continued along the road until they reached a
tree line on the edge of the town. Clark looked to his right and
saw the sun touch the horizon. Darkness was approaching.
* * *
He peered through the drapes that covered the window
of the room he had occupied for the past few hours as he rested.
The waning sunlight shone through a tear in the drapes and
illuminated the large scar that spanned his right cheek. Being
separated from his squadron of the Imperialist Army, he was using
the building as a temporary refuge on his journey to the nearest
army base. He thought of his rations of potable water and a sparse
amount of food. Another night was quickly approaching in the
desolate town, so he figured he would hunker down here until
sunrise. He looked through the window and saw that the sunlight was
waning.
Then he saw a fellow soldier in the street. The
solider was escorting a man and two boys, perhaps to one of the
nearby death camps. Then he saw that the soldier did not aim his
rifle at his prisoners. Instead his rifle was slung over the
soldier’s shoulder and he held a CB radio by his side. Perhaps the
man and the boys were not prisoners at all. He heard of many
defectors. If this soldier was a defector, then as a loyalist, he
was in danger. He could not be seen.
He rushed away from the window. He could not be
spotted, though he had to follow them. He grabbed his rifle and
waited. No sounds came from the inside of the house. They hadn’t
opened the creaky front door. He would have heard them if they did.
He unlocked his room’s door, entered the hallway, and walked into
another room. Through horizontal blinds, he saw them continue
on.
He left the room and returned to the room that
contained his remaining food and water. He stuffed whatever he
could into his jacket and walked slowly into the hallway. He
holstered his pistol as he descended the stairs.
He could easily kill them as they walked down the
street. A few careful shots would do the trick. Only two had
weapons. The boys would merely be target practice once the adults
were destroyed.
Then he thought of a bigger payoff if they were
alive. Perhaps he could use them to find a rebel base. He heard
stories of defectors able to find the rebellion strongholds in
order to join their ranks. He assumed this soldier had information
he was acting on, but it was just as likely that he was roaming
around without a particular destination in mind. He figured he
might as well take his chances since the reward was coveted. For
information leading to the discovery of any hidden rebel base, he
would surely be promoted and vast riches would be within his
reach.
He smiled as he thought of a mansion or chalet he
would inherit from the state. It would likely have been confiscated
from a wealthy rebel or rebel sympathizer, but he knew they didn’t
deserve such amenities anyhow. He pictured himself standing atop a
mountain of Imperial Dollars, gold bars and bullion. These rebels
were his ticket to the good life.
Outside the building, he remained in the shadows as
he walked far enough behind them to avoid detection.
He smiled slightly as he spoke beneath his breath:
“Let the games begin.”
* * *
Clark looked up through the thick canopy of the
forest. “We have less than fifteen minutes of daylight left in
here,” he said. He could hear Thomas and Tyler slogging behind him,
obviously tired from all they had been through that day.
But the day was gradually coming to an end. They just
needed to find a suitable place to rest for the night.
Charles pointed up a steep incline. “How about over
there?”
“That might work,” Clark said. “We just need to be
off of this trail far enough.”
They climbed the hill, struggling to maintain their
footing as they passed by a few trees that seemed to be growing at
an angle out of the soil.
“Almost there,” Clark said.
At the top of the hill, they walked down a five foot
decline before it leveled out. Clark led the way through the brush,
and felt a few stickers poke through his pants. He plowed through a
few more patches of weeds and brush before he found a small
clearing, perhaps an old camping site used by backpackers in more
peaceful times. He thought of the days he backpacked, particularly
along the Appalachian Trail. Little did he know at the time that
those excursions would give him a taste of life as an enemy of the
regime he had naively voted into power.
He placed the portable CB on the ground near his feet
and bent over to adjust the antennas. He stood straight again and
looked at the boys. “You two get some rest now.”
“Where should we sleep?” Tyler asked.
Clark pointed in a circular motion around them. “Pick
a spot.”
Thomas and Tyler walked a few feet before they both
took a seat on the ground to rest their tired feet. Thomas lay on
his back and grimaced. “I think I’m on a rock or something.”
Tyler giggled and lay down near Thomas. “My spot’s
not bad at all, though not as cozy as my bed…”
“My bed was a race car,” Tyler said. “Well, it looked
like a race car. Wasn’t an actual one. It was so cool.”
“I just had a plain old bed that didn’t look like
anything special…but I miss that thing.”
After a few more minutes of chatter, the boys quieted
and a soft snore from one of them could be heard among the noises
of the insects that chirped through the night.
“I’ll stand guard first,” Clark said to Charles. “I
feel a second wind coming on, so I’ll be able to stay awake for a
while.”
Charles smiled. “I need to get some shut-eye, so that
works for me.”
In less than five minutes after Charles found a spot
on which to lie down for the night, he fell asleep.
Clark sat up and listened intently. The moonlight
streamed through the branches and lit up the occasional spot, but
otherwise, the forest was pitch black. The insects’ chorus of
chirps seemed to grow in volume as the night marched on. His eyes
felt heavy by the time Charles woke up.
“I’ll cover for you,” Charles said. “That’s all the
rest I needed.”
Clark lie on the ground and felt soil on his back as
he peered into the thick canopy above. Sunlight would soon break
the darkness, though he needed to catch a few hours of sleep before
the following day. They had a lot of ground to cover.
He slept for three hours barely achieving the coveted
REM sleep he had desired for so long. Dreams were scarce that
night, and the only dreams he had he could not remember by the time
his eyes opened and he saw Charles sitting over the CB radio. “Nine
miles due south of Frackville, you say?” he heard Charles say. “We
will radio you when we’re close and meet at a landmark of your
choosing.”
Clark sat up and stared at Charles.
“Over and out,” Charles said.
“Who was that?”
“I was broadcasting a bit while you were asleep and
found someone about nine miles south of here that has a supply of
food and water. They are looking for rebels to join up with…just
like us.”
“Where’s this Frackville you spoke of?” Clark
asked.
“Apparently that’s the town we were just in. The guy
seemed familiar with the area. He said keep heading south, and
he’ll radio when we’re near his hideout. He said he knows of some
easy-to-find landmarks that we can meet at.”
Clark stared at Charles in disbelief that they had
found someone so soon. Good news was hard to come by and he was
suspect of any news other than bad news. Bad news poured in
regularly so it was expected, but good news…
Charles continued, grinning as he spoke: “He said he
has some extra food we can eat. We’ll go there and get fueled up,
then continue south.”
“That’s good,” Clark said, though he wasn’t sure it
actually was good. Still, he had to go along with it in case the
rebel over the CB radio was sincere. Perhaps this rebel was a
shimmer of hope in a barren desert of atrocities. Or perhaps the
shimmer of hope was just a mirage.
* * *
After checking through the dilapidated farmhouse, he
had secured a few items in addition to what he felt was the most
important thing of all: a change of clothes. Once back outside, he
looked towards the tree line. He felt his heart racing from running
in a circuitous route to avoid them as he attempted to find a
meeting spot south of their current location. With this piece of
the puzzle in place, he was able to rest for a few moments before
the real challenge began. He looked out past the top of the trees
at the sun that was making its way up to the apex of the sky.
Another day in paradise, he thought. Or another day in hell,
depending on which side you are on. He was comforted by the fact
that he was on the winning team. The team that would eventually
take over the world and make men like him wealthy.