Humanity Gone: After the Plague (4 page)

             
“Shh...we will crawl into the back behind the seats. They have to take us.  I don't wanna get left.”   My sister gets into the car and climbs behind the back seat.  I start to go in, but then I see a gun.  I hesitate, but it’s too late, my sister is already in.  I follow her and sit behind the back seat.  I put my arm over her and we lean our backs against it.  We’ll be hard to see now.

             
I hear them get in.  My mind is still focused on the gun; it scares me.  I hold my sister tighter and put my finger to my lips.  She nods at me.  I won't let anyone hurt my twin sister, and I know she won't let anyone hurt me.

             
Everything gets dark as we enter the tunnel.

Chapter 6: Jocelyn

             
I hope Jon is alright.  He will be.  He always manages to take care of himself.

             
I fold the knife and put it in my pocket after wiping the blood off with a rag in the glove compartment.  Just wiping it once removed any trace of it from the blade.  The knife may come in handy in the future and if my brother has a gun, I at least want a knife.  Although, maybe I should take the gun if it’s going to keep bothering him.  I know it must be difficult for him to even have it in his pocket.

             
We travel through the tunnel.  Occasionally, he swerves around cars that are stopped in the middle.  Some have their door open, and some do not.  My curiosity asks me to look inside, but I am afraid as to what I may find.  More dead? People who died from the disease, or worse, people who were killed after?

             
The car begins to approach the other side of the tunnel.  More light begins to pour into the car as the entrance gets closer.  I look over toward my brother. He has both hands firmly on the wheel and a dead stare locked on the road ahead.

             
As my eyes adjust I wonder why I am not a mess over this hostage thing, but then I see something that wrenches my attention...

             
Mud.

             
It's on the center console, and I don't remember it being there when my brother reached for a gun behind it.  And I remember that moment very well.  I turn my head toward the backseat.  There is nothing there except for a little more mud that seems to drag up on the back of the seat.  Those are footprints.  Someone is in the car.  I glance over to Jon.  His eyes are still fixed on the road ahead. He is slowing down since we are about to exit the tunnel.  I guess he is afraid of any surprises.  I can feel my heart begin to beat through my chest as I look toward the back seat.

             
Whoever it is must be hiding behind the seat in the cargo space.  Someone really quiet, too, if he or she managed to slip in without us noticing at the bridge.  Probably someone smart.  Maybe someone deadly.

             
“Jon can we pull over up here, I am not feeling well now.”  He gives me a frustrated look.  The area looks pretty safe.  There are only a few vacant cars on the side of the road and some paper flying in the wind.  “Please Jon, it's really important.”  I squeeze his right arm and our eyes meet.  His jaw loosens, and his eyes tighten; he now knows something’s amiss.  He pulls to the side of the road and lets me out.  He follows beside me.  We both shut the car doors.

             
“What's wrong?” he whispers as he grabs my shoulders.

             
“There's someone in the back...”  I mumble through my teeth.  Instantly, Jon digs back out the gun.  I go for the knife and keep my hand in my pocket clutching the handle.  We walk slowly around the car, hunched over so that we’re below the window line.

             
“Get behind me.” Jon commands, quietly.  He prepares the gun in his right hand as he reaches for the trunk handle with his left. He looks at me and mouths, “One, two, three…”

             
He throws the trunk door into the air and points the gun into the back.  Someone huge is hiding back there.  Someone filthy.  I inhale air in fear.  As my eyes focus, I realize that everything I’ve just thought was wrong, except for the filthy part.  It is actually two girls.   Both of their blue eyes meet mine.  They are quivering.  I exhale relief and I feel all my muscles release.  I reach to pat Jon's arm down, but he already has the gun dangling toward the ground.  He drops it.  His right hand shakes.

             
I study the two girls and how tiny they are.  Both had the same blue eyes and dark hair.  Maybe it’s black but they’re both so covered in dirt that I can't tell.  They are the most pathetic looking creatures I have ever seen, apparently homeless and hungry, with sunken cheeks and cracked lips. They must be twins.  I feel awful.  How many other children already look like this?

             
One of them finally breaks the silence, talking quickly, just like a little girl might if she knows she’s in trouble with her parents.

             
“Please help us, we have no one.  We didn't wanna scare you, but we didn't know what to do. We are sorry. We didn't want you to leave us too!”  I guess they are around ten or eleven years old.  Jon looks at me; his eyebrows show more concern than I normally see on his face.  The right side of his face smiles.

             
It isn't long before Jon is giving the girls as much of our food as they can eat.  One is making peanut butter crackers while the other washes down her granola bar with some bottled water.  Their faces glow with happiness as they fill their stomachs.  We all sit in a circle on the side of the road with some food in between us.  I keep anxiously looking around us but it seems to be a pretty safe spot.  The one girl offers me my own cracker with her dirty hands.  Normally I would want my hand sanitizer, but I eat it anyway, and it tastes even better in front of their smiling faces. I hear a crunch to my left as Jon bites into two crackers on either side of his mouth, making a goofy face that pulls a bunch of giggles from the twins.  I sigh again, this time with a little bit of happiness.

             
Still with a smile on his face, Jon clears his throat after swallowing the crackers and wiping his hands on his jeans.  “So now that we’ve given you half of our food, what are your names?”

             
“I’m Sara.”

             
“And I’m Caitlyn.”

             
Hearing their lighthearted voices distracts me for just a split second, and I realize that I’ve already forgotten which is which.  “Jon, this is going to be difficult…”

             
A warm laugh comes from my left as both of us look from one identical face to another.  “Yes, yes it will Jo.”

No matter how close I look, I can’t find an obvious physical difference between the two.  Sara tells me their story as Caitlyn continues to eat.  Sara seems to be the more outgoing of the two. We sit for another ten minutes and eventually Jon picks up the food.  The girls look so sad and stare at him longingly.

              “You can't eat much more or you will both get sick.” he says through a laugh. “Don't worry we will keep you full of food.” 

             
They both smile at him.  I had never seen Jon so good with children before, especially considering what I remember when I was younger. I don't know how much longer we will be with these girls, but they quickly brought him a serenity I have not seen in a long time.  I smile as the two follow him to the car and pile in the backseat as he finishes putting the food in the trunk. 

             
He looks over at me with a grin, “Looks like you can sit with them.”  I chuckle in response and nod.  He makes his way to the driver’s side door, intentionally stepping over the gun still lying on the pavement.

             
I pick up the gun.  He wants me to have it now.

Chapter 7: Jocelyn

As I sit with the twins in the backseat, I remark how quickly they’ve warmed up to me.  It isn't long before the one has her head resting on the side of my arm.  They both look exhausted.  They are still awake, but their eyelids are fluttering.  I put one arm around each of them.  The one to my right, maybe Caitlyn, looks up at me with a gentle smile.  It soon fades from her face and she falls asleep.  The other one follows right behind her.

The car pulls up to a red light and I look out both windows.  The streets are still empty.  We had passed a car or two and seen the occasional movement behind houses, but things are generally quiet out of the city.  I reach up to the wound on my neck, careful not to wake the twin on my right.  The cut reminds me how careful we have to be.  Jon turns around to me speaking quietly.

              “Well this has changed things.”

             
“Yea, I mean, how much harder is this going to be now?  But we can't leave them.”

             
“I never even considered that,” he whispers.  He changes the subject. We both knew they were staying. “So we still want to head to the ole' campground?”

             
“Yea that sounds like the best choice.  Maybe we should think about stopping and getting some more food– especially with these girls with us now.”

             
“Yea.  There's a supermarket on the way there.  We should be there in fifteen.”  Jon puts his foot down and our car continues on the path. 

             
While we were still in the apartment Jon and I talked about what we would do as we packed.  With every adult dying, it would not take long for the power and water to go out.  Waste wouldn't be collected and people would scavenge for food in the worst of ways.  Jon came up with the idea to go to an old campground from our weekend family vacations.  It had a water pump, cabins, and electricity (as long as it lasts).  Our plan gave us comfort.  It gave us hope.  It still does, but all the chaos has really dampened our idea of simply living a few weeks camping until the country pulled itself back together.  I am afraid that a few weeks could be much, much longer.

             
I look at each girl and then continue to stare out the window.  The buildings of the city are replaced with trees on both sides.  I think I like the trees more.  The car comes to an intersection and Jon turns.  Then, up ahead, I can see the supermarket at the corner-and a car coming straight down our side of the road.

             
My heart sinks as a red blur bolts toward our car.  Jon swears and begins to pull off the road.  The red car seems to see us and gets in the correct lane and races past us.  They almost killed us. Why weren't they paying attention?

             
Then I see it.  I tell Jon we need to turn around, too.

             
Now.

Chapter 8: Jonathon

             
I move my head close to the windshield and squint.  Slowing the car, I try to make out the chaos up ahead.  My sister yells something, I don't know what exactly; although the hundreds of young people up ahead may have something to do with it.

             
The supermarket is a beehive.  The windows in the front are shattered and the hungry were hopping over them.  It looks like a riot on TV.  I bring the car to a stop at the entrance to the parking lot.  Other cars fly past us out of the exit.  A few groups of people carry bags of food and bottles of water.  Some are running.  Some are bleeding.

             
I finally get to the point where I can pick out individuals instead of observing just a mob.  Most of them are Jo’s or my age.  I see a few children crying off to one side of the entrance and some people fighting directly in front of them.  A body lies on the ground– dead.  In the middle of the fight before the door, a single boy emerges, yelling.  He raises his arm, and fires a handgun into the air.  The piercing sound of the gunshot doesn't seem to surprise anyone other than us.  The looting just continues.  I feel a hand on my shoulder and my heart jumps to my throat.  It is one of the twins: Sara. She speaks softly, her eyes gazing at the crowd.

             
“Are they all fighting for food?” she asks nervously.

             
“Yes,” I respond.  They’re doing more than fighting; they’re dying for food.  I don't know what to say. Another gunshot rings through the buzzing air.

             
I throw the car in reverse and before I know it I am flying away from the mass of people.  My father's warning echoed in my ear.  That could have ended worse.  I should have listened.  The rear-view mirror shows Jo soothing both of the twins by running her fingers gently through their hair.  Our eyes meet in the mirror and she mouths, “Let's just get there.” I couldn't agree with her more.  I nod and we take off down the road, wondering how long it took for the supermarket to go from busy to a complete riot.