The No Where Apocalypse (Book 2): Surviving No Where (17 page)

She helped me to my feet, causally brushing snow from my coat and pants.

“I can’t,” I replied, trying to make eye contact with my wife. “This is too much. It needs to end.”

She wiped snow from my back, patting it several times. “Nonsense. You have to. So many people are depending on you. You’ve never let anyone down in your life. Don’t start now. Think of poor Nathan. He looks up to you. You’re the man that he wants to become. And Violet; she’ll be having that little girl soon. She needs you back there, Bob. They all need you.”

She turned me to face Daisy and Libby, huddled together and motionless on the toboggan. “They are in your hands now. Their safety depends on you. They have no one else; it has to be you.”

I took her by the shoulders. Her smile greeted me. “What about you, Shelly? I abandoned you. I never came back for you.”

Kissing my cheek softly, she hugged me. “If you could have, you would have been there. But this is your life now. Now until the end of time. Live it, relish it. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. I just need to know that you’re fine.”

“It’s so hard,” I whined, feeling her hair against my face. Her smell so refreshing, so familiar, that I began to cry. “At every turn, every possible thing that can go wrong does. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Do it for them,” she whispered, kissing the side of my face one more time. “Do it for me. You’re almost there. You can do this, Bob. I know it in my heart.”

With a deep breath, I nodded once. “Okay, I will.” But she was already gone, perhaps forever.

Year 4 - early spring - WOP

I pushed forward, each step more torturous than the last. From time to time, I went back and made sure my girls were all right. Daisy felt cold; I feared she was fading. Libby was still comfortable under the blankets, swiping away my cold hand every time I touched her warm face.

Pausing one last time, I stared ahead at the orange fireball lighting the star-filled night sky.
The blaze had to be in full roar
, I thought. I worried more about what I would find. Would they all be dead? But what would the survivors, including myself and my precious cargo, do after this? How would we live? How would we survive?

Ahead the sound of a crackling fire could be heard. Each step made it louder, clearer. Aglow with a warm orange hue, the forest no longer hid things. It was as if daylight had broken. But unlike the welcomed first rays of morning, this glow held uncertainty and an ominous feeling of remorse.

Daisy came out of her slumber as we came closer. “Are we almost there?” she shouted. Her voice held the same fear that filled my soul. We wanted to be there, but dreaded actually getting there.

“Another quarter mile,” I called back, pulling with my renewed strength. “One more corner, and a gradual downhill and we’re home.”

I felt the load lighten and heard Daisy crunched through the snow next to me. “Maybe it was just a silly grease fire. Perhaps Dizzy forgot to close the stove door. He’s done it before.”

She tried to be optimistic, at least her tone showed that. I knew better though, and so did she.

“They were attacked,” I replied in a monotone voice. “They were attacked and someone burned the place down to boot. Let’s just hope someone is still alive there.”

The last turn brought the blaze into full view. No longer were we just looking at the orange sky and woods with a few flames licking above the tree line. Now we could see everything, and it was worse than I expected.

Daisy began to push ahead, forcing her short legs through the drifted snow. The roar of the inferno began to drown out the sound of the crackling fire. As she pushed on, I paused, shaking my head at the most awful sight I had ever seen.

The home was barely recognizable. While most of it still stood, it wouldn’t for long. Every board, every window, every shingle was ablaze. My heart sank as I came to the realization that there would be no survivors. It simply wasn’t possible.

We struggled through waist-deep snow side by side. No longer was my exhaustion noticeable. It was gone, replaced by sheer determination to discover the fate of my friends. I assumed that same feeling pushed Daisy as well.

As we descended the slight incline, Daisy raced ahead. Several times she was overtaken by the snow, falling but struggling back to her feet to resume her chase. When we came close enough to feel the heat, she fell to her knees, overtaken by emotion.

“No!” she shrieked. I checked to be sure that Libby wasn’t bearing witness to any of this. Fortunately, I could see her eyes still closed, lost in a slumber that didn’t include any of the horror confronting her mother and myself.

“Please dear God,” Daisy cried. “Please.”

I pulled her to her feet. “Come on,” I urged. “We need to find any survivors. We have to.”

She rose and nodded. But one step was all she could manage. Pointing ahead, her shaky arm showed me what I feared most: A body in the road.

I ran, praying it wasn’t one of ours, fearing it was. As I stood over the form, face down in the snow, I didn’t recognize the clothing. Turning him over, I saw the first blood of the battle, staining the otherwise perfect white snow a deep crimson.

“Not one of ours,” I called back to Daisy.
Thank God.

Staring at the fire, I lost all hope. Anyone inside was already dead. If the flames didn’t kill them, then the smoke that preceded the fire did. With Daisy by my side, I wrapped an arm around her shivering body, not knowing what to do next.

For a moment, I was surprised that I hadn’t heard fire engines coming. Surely something of this magnitude would be seen for miles around. Then I remembered where I was — No Where.

Even if there were working vehicles, would there be gas for them? And if there was gas, would there be enough people alive to man them? I turned back, glancing down the snow-covered road.
How would they ever get through that much snow?
 

Fiery boards began to fall from the upper floor of Lettie’s home, our home. Crashing to the ground below, both Daisy and I jumped at the evil sound. The warmth caused me to open my jacket as I wondered what to do next. The only sound filling the night air was the fire, nothing more.

Letting out a sigh, I squeezed Daisy tighter. Were we really left alone in all of this? Had all of our friends fought for their survival only to die such a gruesome death? Would we survive much longer or would we always wish we had been here to die like the rest?

“Over here,” a voice cried from the darkness. “Over here, in the garage.”

Survivors.

Year 4 - early spring - WOP

We dashed towards the garage. Raising a hand to ward off the heat from the flames, I pulled the toboggan along, making sure the ride was smooth for my sleeping passenger. Once at the door, I lifted the sleeping child and moved inside. Hoping for more than one survivor, I was thankful there was at least Lettie.

Inside the garage, the first thing I noticed was the overall darkness. As my eyes adjusted, I noticed several blanket-covered people rise from chairs. More, that was good.

“That God you’re back,” Lettie said, giving Daisy a hug. I hustled Libby inside to another person. Due to the lack of light, I didn’t realize it was Marge, until I heard her shushing the waking child.

Daisy scrambled to find Violet in the black cold interior. I heard the two crying, sharing their joint relief and pain.

I turned back to Lettie. “What happened?”

She took a seat, rubbing her forehead. I wrapped a blanket from Libby around the old woman.

“I don’t know,” she began, sounding tired and more worn out than I’d even heard. “Three hours ago, maybe more, they showed up. I heard Dizzy call out from the front room. Then I heard a bunch of gunshots and an explosion of glass. The rest of us were in bed.
 

“By the time I got up and got something decent on, the fire was already going in the living room. They had long sticks with rags soaked in something, burning on the end. Someone had thrown one in through the broken window.”

My head spun, searching the garage, counting people. Seven, including me, Daisy, and Libby.

“Where’s Dizzy now?” I asked, peering at the fire through one of the small garage windows. “I hope he didn’t do anything stupid, like chase these people on foot.”

The silence was my answer. Each passing second my stomach grew tighter. I heard a whimper, then a chair move. Daisy’s voice was next.

“I’m so sorry, Marge,” she whispered. I turned and saw Daisy hugging Marge and Libby.

“Took one to the head early in the war,” Lettie continued, her voice forced and full of sadness. “He was dead by the time I got to the living room. I grabbed the gun and shot at someone going by the front window on a horse. Shot the person, then the horse.”

I stared at the road. “That the fellow lying out there?” I pointed out the window.

“Nope, that’s the one Dizzy got,” she answered. “My rider never fell. The horse neither. But they didn’t make it far.”

Against enormous odds, we hadn’t encountered them on the road. “Where’d they go?”

“It all lasted about two minutes,” Lettie stated, pushing way from her chair. “I saw the four remaining people dash off to the west, straight through the brush. You go look there when it’s light. You find tracks. Probably within a couple hundred yards you’ll find that rider and his horse, dead as well.”

Closing my eyes, I tried to imagine the battle. I supposed that the gang believed they’d find everyone asleep when they arrived. Probably the last thing they expected was a hail of bullets. Once in the battle, they decided to burn the place to the ground and come back for whatever spoils they could find later.

I felt Lettie’s shoulder against my arm. Revenge could wait, I decided. We had real issues before I ran off seeking vengeance for my friend’s death.

“I’m so cold,” Violet cried from behind me.

Reaching down, I lifted the garage door. Immediately warmth struck my face. Most times it would have been a good feeling. Now it reminded me of too much bad.

“We can’t stay in the garage,” I said, trusting only Lettie was listening. “We don’t have a heat source.”

“I’m sure you have an idea of what we need to do,” she replied, stretching her wrinkled hands towards the fire.

I turned to face her directly. Our eyes, worn out as they might be, met. “My cabin,” I whispered. “Put three more miles between us and them. Maybe end this.”

I saw her nodded slightly.

“But we need to get out of here, and soon,” I continued. “We can’t take a chance of them coming back or us freezing to death.”

“Nothing here for us anymore,” Lettie added, turning her eyes back to her blazing, crumbling home. “We start new down at your place.”

Yeah, but there were a lot of issues before us. Neither Lettie nor myself seemed game to discuss them, not yet at least.

Year 4 - early spring - WOP

I had thought getting past the still burning home would be the worst part of our three-mile journey to my cabin. I was afraid people wouldn’t be able to tear themselves away from
home
. One by one, I would have to drag them from the garage, past the blaze, and to the road. I was wrong.

Perhaps leaving the place behind would be the worst. Or the cold we’d find 100 yards beyond the fire.

But all of that was nothing compared to the walk itself.

A cold wind had picked up, unnoticed by Daisy or myself on our return trip from Covington. The breeze blew from the south, directly into our faces. Not enough to struggle against; just enough to toss snow at us, stinging our faces. Insults after injury, my grandfather had always said, were the worst.

Hoping we could make the trek in an hour was a joke. But that was my original plan. However, we were grossly under-prepared.

Marge and Violet wore rain boots, something far more appropriate for the summer than now. Marge had given her winter coat to her daughter, choosing instead to wrap herself in a blanket for the journey.

Nate seemed to be somewhat prepared, though his sneakers wouldn’t provide much insulation from the dampness and cold. Lettie had on her usual winter jacket, and no gloves. She detested anything covering her hands she told me once. Now was no different.

We all wore proper hats and scarves, thanks to a bag of extras Lettie stashed in her garage. That was about the only thing we had going in our favor.

Once we were several hundred yards down the road I stopped and organized our group. Libby, still sound asleep, laid on the sled between Violet’s shaking legs. I noticed the small knapsack of food Marge had grabbed somehow. I thought of five loaves and two fish. I sure hoped there was a miracle when I opened that bag later.

Nate stood on one side of his mother, with Daisy on the other, helping Marge along. Next to me, Lettie wrapped a frail arm around mine.

Seven I counted, nodding at Daisy. Though I couldn’t see much of her face underneath her blue woolen scarf, I did notice her nod back. We were ready.

“If anyone needs a break,” I said confidently, “we all stop together. If you’re feet get cold, we’ll wrap them in a blanket for a bit. Everyone can take turns riding; I have plenty of energy left.” It was an all out lie, but it was my lie.

The group stared at me, lit to an orange glow by the fire a quarter mile back. No one looked ready, but we had to leave.

“Okay, let’s go,” I called out. Turning, I adjusted Lettie’s arm in mine and felt the rope dig into my waist with the first step. “Only three miles, we can do this.”

I could still see the flames burning high into the night sky when Lettie begged me to stop. Maybe a quarter mile, I figured, but not a half. This was awful.

For some unknown reason the snow was deeper to the south. And while going northward the western side of the road was almost bare, the same was not true in the opposite direction.

Marge and Daisy were already a dozen yards or more behind. Nate had abandoned them and stood next to the sled. Lettie climbed on next to Violet and shoved her body under a blanket.

We were going to die on this stretch of road. It was so clear to me. And I didn’t think anyone in our group cared if we did or not.