Born In The Apocalypse (3 page)

“What can we do?”  I asked, not having a clue as to where my dad was going with this.

“Well, I think the only thing to do is to track him back as far as we can, and get a general direction as to where he might have come from.  After that, we check our maps and head for the towns and homes that way,”  Dad said.

I thought about that one.  It was going to take a lot of work just for one Tripper.  “Maybe he was just a roamer,” I said.  Roamers were just single Trippers that wandered the countryside, sometimes just laying down for a while.  They were a nasty surprise when they jumped out of the grass at you.  Dad nearly got killed when three of them tried to jump him.  Fortunately, Dad’s horse jumped away in time, and he put enough space between himself and them to get the killing shots off.

“Can’t know unless we look,”  Dad said.  “We’ll start off tomorrow morning.” Dad started to head across the street to the opening that led to our property.

I suddenly got excited.  “I can come with?”

Dad nodded, smiling.  “Of course.  You’re too good with your bow to leave behind.  But you might want to make a few more arrows.”

I walked lightly behind my Dad, my steps barely touching the ground.  I had never been invited to a search before.  I wondered if I should ask to bring Trey, but I decided against it.  I’d rather have Trey jealous of me for a change.

Back at the house, Dad went into the stable to take care of his horse.  With cars not working and electricity scarce, we made do with what was available.  Dad didn’t mind.  He said it allowed him to slow down and make sure he didn’t miss anything.

Just as I passed the door Dad turned to me.  “Don’t forget the rabbit for the Simpsons.”

Crud.  I’d hoped he had forgotten that little nugget.  Oh, well.  “On it.  I’ll be back later,” I said, hauling the rabbit out of the tank and dumping it in a sack.

“Take your bow,” Dad said from behind the horse. “Just in case.”

I didn’t know what my dad was thinking, and he didn’t reveal his plans all that often, so when he did something out of the ordinary, it tended to stick out.  Something was at play, and I was very curious as to what it might be.  But I knew dad wasn’t going to tell me, and mom sure as heck wasn’t.

“Already have it,” I said.  I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be a routine visit, and it wasn’t even suppertime yet.

Crud.

Chapter 4

I stepped out of our property and walked along the road that connected the houses in this area.  I thought it odd to have a collection of homes out in the middle of nowhere, but Dad had pointed out that when everyone had cars and gas, people drove all over the place.  Living away from stores and towns was perfectly normal back then.

I wouldn’t know.  All I’ve ever known was this world where people walked or rode horses.  Some people rode bicycles, and Trey’s family had this bicycle car that his dad had picked up somewhere. It took two adults to make it move, so I didn’t know how useful it was.

As for me, I was walking.  I tied the sack to my belt so I could have my hands free, but the downside of that was the washed rabbit got my right pant leg wet from my knee down.

I passed several houses that were empty, the creepiest being the one at the bottom of a hill just three houses down from mine.  Dad said when the everything went bad, that family refused to join the other families in fighting off the Trippers, and just shut themselves into their house.  No one had ever seen them again.  Trey said the dad went crazy and ate everyone else in there, except for his little boy, who escaped by climbing into the attic.  Trey said the dad spends his time walking around the house, following the noises of the attic. 

I didn’t believe him, but passing by that small home tucked away in a wooded corner, I did wonder if some of the rumors were true.  I’d never seen a light or movement in that house in the entire year my dad had finally let me out on my own.  As I walked by, I stopped suddenly.  Did a curtain move?  I looked carefully from the road, but could not see any movement in any of the windows.  Out of spite, I brought my bow up and drew the string back, hearing the slight rasp as the arrow slid along the shelf.  I aimed at each window, daring myself to fire, but after a time I slowly eased the bow back.  I shook my head, calling myself all sorts of names for my imagination.

I walked on, looking back once more.  My breath caught in my throat, and I moved quickly away.  In the far right window I swear I saw a small white hand gently touching the glass.

I turned right at the fork in the road and walked past several occupied homes.  These people had survived the worst of the Trippers and were doing well on their own.  They had fenced their yards with timber taken from abandoned homes and used their neighbors’ land for additional grazing and planting.  If you found yourself alone with five homes around you empty, you could easily gain an additional acre or three with just a few removals of fence between the yards.  That’s how we gained the land for our horse and our gardening.

At the end of the block, I stepped up to a gate and peeked over the top.  I was at the Simpsons, a decent sized ranch house on a corner lot. They worked pretty hard to keep their land up, but while they were good farmers, they couldn’t keep up in the meat.  It was sad, really.  They had a decent bit of forest behind them, and a small creek as well.  They could have dammed that creek and had fish for the taking, and good snares would catch the small animals coming to drink.  Heck, even bigger game might stroll down just for the asking to drink at the pond.

I rang the little bell that hung on a string by the gate.  I knew better than to just stroll up to a house unannounced.  That would get me killed or seriously hurt. Dad said back in the day a lot of people were killed by Trippers coming up to the house and people stepping out to meet them thinking they were just other folks.  You learned too late that you were about to be wiped out.

“Who’s out there?”  a small voice called out. 

I recognized Lucy’s voice.  Lucy Simpson was a girl about my age, and she came over to our house three days a week for schooling.  She was nice, but lately she had been getting moody, and two days out the three she was mad at me or Trey for something we said or did.

“It’s Josh Andrews, Lucy!” I called.  “Got a rabbit for you if you want it.  I got lucky on the trap line today.  Mom said to bring it over to see if you wanted it.”

“Leave it there,” Lucy said.  “Mom’s not feeling well, and I don’t want you to get sick.”

I winced.  Sickness was a constant problem, and I tended to think more people died from the flu each year than Tripper attacks.

“Will do.  Hope your mom feels better soon,” I said, hanging the sack over the gate.

“Thanks.  Tell your mom we said thanks,”  Lucy said, closing the door.

I turned away, not answering, since she wouldn’t have heard me anyway.  I guess I got lucky in that she didn’t hate me today.

I turned away, and looking down the road to the left, I could see several dark homes down a very dark road.  The trees were thick, and their canopy cast deep shadows over most of the area.  It nearly looked like I was standing at the entrance to a cave.  I did a bit of mental calculation, and I realized this road would take me behind Trey’s house which land I could cross and get to my own house quicker than backtracking the way I had come.

That sounded like a plan to me, so I moved in that direction.  The sun was heading towards evening, and the adjusted sunlight lit up the entrance to the ‘cave.’  I seriously doubted I would have gone if it was darker, but right now it didn’t seem so bad.  As I walked further, I chuckled to myself, realizing I was barely a quarter mile from my house, and I could have saved myself a walk if I had only realized this route earlier.

I passed a house on the left, and it looked like it had been abandoned a long time ago.  The drapes were falling down in one window, and an upper window was broken.  The front door looked like it was slightly open, but I wasn’t planning on going in there.  The house was dead, and likely everyone who had ever lived there was dead, too.

On my right was another house, and it looked in better shape, although I doubted anyone lived there.  It aroused my curiosity, because it’s backyard was directly across from the backyard of the little house in the valley.

“You’re a fool; go home,” I told myself as I walked up the driveway.  Common sense didn’t win the argument, and I told myself I was just looking for information to give my dad. I looped my bow over my shoulder and put my arrow back in its quiver.

I walked up the driveway, and a squirrel chattered at me from the oak tree in the front yard.  The grass was hugely overgrown and was nearly as tall as myself.  The house was dark and silent, and I began to think I was the only visitor this place had had in years.  In the back yard the growth was about the same, although the rose bushes were huge, out of control thorny riots of red, white, and pink.  A small swing set stood lonely in the corner of the lot, and a plastic turtle graced the yard next to the cracked and weathered porch. 

I looked back at the house, and it was as dark in the back as it was in the front.  The house was simple but nice, and the trees around the lot meant that this place must have been nice and cool in the summer.

The back yard was fenced in, and I was grateful for the chance to get close to the creepy house without being observed.  I didn’t have any real reason to be doing what I was, and if I thought about it long enough, I might come up with an explanation which might have raised an excuse even for me.

At the edge of the yard, I looked at the fence for a moment.  It was eight feet tall, and that was three feet higher than I was currently occupying.  Hmm.

A quick glance around the yard didn’t give me any inspiration, so I was about to leave when I noticed the swing set was just a foot taller than the fence.  Worked for me.  I climbed the play area quickly, and found myself in a small clubhouse with the roof high above me.  I tried to see what was in the house, but I couldn’t get a good angle on it.  I worked my way to the outside of the little clubhouse, and climbed slowly to the top of the awning supports.  I straddled the top beam of the clubhouse and looked out over the yard to the house beyond.

It was as every bit as dark as the front.  A small stream worked its way through the properties in this area, and I could see it was deep enough to dam if they wanted a supply of water and fish right outside of their door.  A big bay window allowed me to peek into the interior of the house and look around.  At the worst, I could see if there was anyone living there at all that my Dad could visit.

From my perch I could see very little.  It was dark and gloomy, and there didn’t seem to be anyone around.  The house was very neat, and there didn’t seem to be a speck of dirt anywhere.

That last thought struck me as odd.  Shouldn’t there be some dust?  Just as I pondered that, a face appeared in the far window.  I was so startled I nearly fell off the swing set.  As it was, I managed to nock an arrow and aim a shaft at the face staring out at me.

As quickly as It had appeared, it was gone.  I wondered for a minute while I composed myself.  I was breathing hard, trying to decide if I had seen a ghost. Just for the heck of it, I aimed the arrow at the house and let go, not caring where it hit.  I lowered the bow, and as I climbed out of the playset, I heard a bang as the arrow I shot collided with something sturdy. I had a lot to tell Trey, and the sooner the better. 

I ran back to the street and down to the cul-de-sac.  One of the homes was occupied, and I could see people moving about as the day was coming to a close.  I worked my way over to the back of the furthest house, guessing Trey’s would be right on the line. 

I checked the area and didn’t see any problems, so I slipped down the bank of the creek and worked my way slowly across.  I didn’t mind getting wet; I knew I was going to be home soon and would be able to dry off quickly.  Dad might wonder what took me so long, but he’d forget about it as soon as I told him the valley house was occupied.

On the other side of the creek I had to be wary of Trey’s nets and trap lines, and it took me a good ten minutes just to clear his yard.  Crossing the road, I went through the front gate of my own property and stopped cold.  In the middle of the yard sticking out of the ground was my arrow—the one I had shot at the valley house.  I didn’t know what to do.  I was panicky, because I didn’t want my dad to find out, and I really didn’t want my mom to find out.

I raced to the garage and put away my gear, dripping water all over the floor.  Judy, dad’s mare, looked at me with big brown reproachful eyes as I stumbled and dropped things all over the place.  I threw an extra handful of grass in her bin to keep her quiet, and then I went back out to the yard. 

The arrow was still there sticking accusingly in the lawn.  I ran over to it and removed it, pulling up a good chunk of dirt.  The broad head dripped soil, and as I looked it over I was struck by another surprise.

This wasn’t my arrow.

Chapter 5

I thought about that arrow a lot over the next couple of days.  I didn’t tell my dad or mom about it just yet, I was afraid dad might be mad at me, and I knew mom just wouldn’t understand.  Besides, Dad was busy dealing with a Tripper outbreak down south of us, and he said before he left that they probably accounted for the two that had shown up the other day. 

I didn’t think that the occupants of the house would know where I lived unless they had followed me.  That didn’t make sense, as I was a pretty good stalker, and I figured I would know if someone was sneaking around in my area.  I settled on the notion that they must have seen Trey and me as we stalked frogs in the creek a time or two and put two and three together to come up with my yard.

I was busy for a time, as Mom was getting back into teaching me things other than math.  I was pretty well learned for my age since all my learning came from heavy reading material, not the so-called age-appropriate stuff other kids were picking up.  Trey came over these days to learn as well since his mother wasn’t as good at history or reading as she was at numbers. It was the only time I ever saw Mom not worry or look out the windows in fear.  She buried herself in the lessons, bringing them to life and telling stories the likes of which I am sure most kids never saw.  Before I was ten years old I knew about Shakespeare and Steinbeck, Dickenson and Emerson.  I liked
Leaves of Grass
well enough, but I wished he would have gotten to the point about a hundred pages earlier. Walt Whitman was another long-winded soul.

Thanks to his mother’s genes, Trey was a hand at math, whereas my skills tended to drift more towards the mechanical.  I could figure out most things if I broke them down into easy to bite chunks.  Trey just breezed through as if he were taking a stroll, which made things more difficult for me since I was constantly on the prowl for more books and materials, as ordered by my mother.

It was about noon, and we had just finished lunch when Mom announced we were running low on some supplies, especially meat.  I took the hint and went out to the garage with Trey right behind me.

I took my bow off the rack and strung it, slipping my quiver over my shoulder.  Trey looked at me funny.

“What are you doing?”  he asked, eyeballing my gear.

“Mom wants meat; I’m getting her meat.  I figure we’re good for a deer or two this time of year,”  I said, belting on my knife.  It was a simple blade with a slow, sweeping edge leading to a drop point.  The seven-inch blade was a bit big for me I always thought, but Dad said it was just the right length.  He never elaborated on the right length for what, but my imagination was full of unpleasant things.

Trey looked shocked, then looked over his shoulder.  “Are you nuts? We’ve never gone out for big game without our dads before.”

I shrugged.  “Meat is meat.  I’d rather skin one animal and get a lot of meat than ten and get just a little.  Besides,” I added, “you don’t have to come with.”

Trey frowned.  “Of course I’m coming.  Think I want to tell my folks I passed on a chance at deer meat?”

“Let’s get moving then.”  I poked my head through the door just enough for my mom to see my noggin and nothing else.  “Mom?  Trey and I are going to check the lines for that meat you wanted.”

“All right, sweetheart.  Please be careful.”  Mom barely looked up from her book, giving me the opportunity to slip away without answering a lot of questions.  Trey and I went around to the front of the house and quickly ran to his.  We passed through the stone walls which bordered our properties, and I waited outside while Trey got his own gear.  Trey had a crossbow which his dad had found years ago.  It fired smaller arrows than my recurve, but they were just as deadly.  The hardest part was finding them if Trey missed.

I had a full quiver, having spent several hours over the last two days making more arrows.  It was easy to feel confident with a full arsenal, and I guess we weren’t taking things too seriously as we walked down the road.  We wanted to take the St. Andrews entrance since it was easier to slip through than the other areas.

As we passed the house in the small valley, I slowed and carefully inspected the dark windows.  Trey slowed with me, and we moved past purposefully and deliberately.

“Man, that place gives me the creeps,” Trey said.  “Wonder if the stories are true.”

I shook my head.  “Someone lives there still.  I saw them.”

Trey stopped in his tracks to stare at me.  I looked at him for a minute, then told him the story of how I went to the Simpson’s, and then worked my way back around the house.  I even told him the part about the arrow I fired and then finding it in my yard.

I don’t know what I expected, but the last thing I thought Trey would do on hearing my story was to laugh at me.  I waited until he calmed himself then asked him what the hell was so funny.

“Oh, I wish I could have seen it!  Oh, baby, I wish I could have seen your face!”  Trey just laughed some more.

“All right, I’ll ask.  Why?” I was getting irritated at this point and wanted to thump him on the head.

Trey straightened and looked me dead in the eye.  “I put that arrow in your yard, you dope.  I found it at my house and used my bow to launch it over to your place.  The one you shot at the creepy house is probably still stuck in there somewhere.”

Well, what the hey? I was stuck between being relieved and being sore.  I settled on disturbed.

“What are you thinking, shooting arrows at my house?  I ought to pound you”  I snarled at Trey, not really meaning it, but trying to save some of my dignity.

Trey giggled as he held up his hands.  “Oh, sure.  I’ll never do it again, never, never, never.”