Children of the After: Awakening (book 1) (11 page)

Jack awoke and immediately regretted it, hoping sleep would
claim him once more. With his muscles in knots he struggled to calm them,
stretching which appendages he was able and trying to relax those he was not. His
head pounded like there was a drum between his ears, and no matter what he did,
no amount of the pain subsided. With muscles clenching in painful agony, he
reached out to his bag and felt through its contents. With his fingers wrapping
instinctively around the bottle, he pulled it from the canvas bag and using his
teeth twisted off the top.

Cool water poured into this mouth and throat, and just
moments after swallowing several mouthfuls he could actually feel the change
spreading over his body. Water. His body needed water, and a lot of it. But
there wasn’t a lot to be had. No. For now he would have to sip and conserve.

Laying upon the cold metal floor he found that the sensation
reminded him of the vault back home, but at least
there
he could drink
all the water he wanted. Even if it had tasted funny and been discolored at the
end. A prisoner in his own body, Jack was forced to wait until his cramping
muscles relaxed before pushing his thoughts of water aside and sitting up.

Giving both Sam and Will a shake he woke them, allowing them
to get their bearings before he raised the door to their hiding place a few
inches and pressed his face to the floor to look outside. By all appearances it
had rained during the night as every surface shone with the reflection of that
element which his body desired. But all in all, nothing appeared different and
so far as he could tell, they were alone.

Shoving the door open the rest of the way, he swung his sore
legs over the edge and hopped down to the edge of the street below. The world
was different now that it was light outside. Sure, they had walked on the grass
median the day before, but it had become dark hours and hours before they had
stopped walking. Where in the city and just beyond there had been only charred
and burned stumps of once magnificent trees, now, having traveled further from
the city, the scenery was much, much different. Looking about him he was
surprised to find that the forest south of the interstate was intact and trees
flourished, their leaves turning off color with the coming of fall. Trees were
alive. The world wasn’t destroyed. Maybe only the city had been consumed in
whatever catastrophe had transpired. It was something to hope for, anyway. And
hope he did.

Carefully and silently he crept to the corner of the truck,
and peered back the way they had come the night before. Nothing moved. No one
followed. Sighing to himself, Jack turned back to the pair of faces that
watched him for any sign of danger. It was odd how he had taken on this role. They
depended on him. They expected him to know what to do, where to go, and in all
honesty, Sam was likely more educated about half of this stuff than he was.
She
was the good student. She could read things once and recite them years later.
But it wasn’t her job to protect them or lead them. It was his. Dad had given
it to him.

Reaching up to run his fingers through his too long hair,
Jack pulled his hood over his head. The morning was both cool and damp and
smelled oddly like worms. It was a day they would usually stay indoors, all
gray and miserable, but they didn’t have the luxury now. Their supplies were
dangerously low again. They needed to find a place that could sustain them for
a while and for right now that place was Grandma’s house. They needed to move. Jack
felt like something was coming and he didn’t want to be here when it came.

Waving both Sam and Will to him, he watched as they gathered
their packs and swung their legs over the edge of the truck’s box just as he
had done. Reaching up, he grabbed Sam by the waist and helped her to the ground
before snatching Will up just under his arms. Twirling once, with his little
brother smiling in his arms, he placed him on the ground beside their sister
and looked them both in the eyes.

“We have to keep moving today. We don’t know if the rider is
still looking for us or if I threw him off for good. We need food and water,
badly. If we hurry I think we can make it to Grandma’s by tonight. Think you
can do it, champ?” Jack asked Will.

With another smile and a nod he had his answer, and turning
he led them back into the grass and away from the truck. It was only a few
hundred yards when Sam smacked him in the back of the head, grinning like a
fool at him with her dark eye shadow and lipstick.

“What was that for?”

“Cause you’re an idiot. Well, actually we both are.”

“What do you mean?” Jack asked, reaching up to shove her
away by her shoulder.

“It rained last night, genius. We need water, even have
bottles, but didn’t think about collecting rain water?”

He
was
an idiot. All around them were heaps of
abandoned cars that were warped or burned and on their surfaces, at least some
of them, were areas where the water was pooling. Sure it was murky and stained
dark by ash residue, but it was fresh water. Better than nothing. Within an
hour, all of their empty bottles were refilled with almost clean water. For
Jack, at least on the water situation, things were looking up.

* * * * *

It was midday when Sam thought she had heard the sounds of
hooves carried upon the breeze that gusted from time to time, threatening
another storm. The day had grown steadily colder, the wind picking up and
changing direction over the hours. Now it blew steadily from the north,
carrying the smell of ash and decay. Though they had been careful all day to
keep moving swiftly and dodge any areas where they might leave tracks upon the
ground, she doubted the rider would give up looking for them, though she didn’t
know why.

Hearing the sound upon the wind the first time, she swore to
herself that she had been mistaken, but even so she focused on listening more
intently in case it came again. And it did. This time, more distinct than the
last, she heard the falls of the horse’s hooves upon the road, and looking to
Jack she knew it had not been her imagination. There, etched upon his face that
looked at her for the same reason, was a mix of shock and fear that she knew
mimicked her own features. The sound came again and Will looked up at them. They
had all heard it now. There was no mistaking it. The rider was coming.

Looking all about them for any sign of the rider, they began
picking up pace and grabbing Jack’s arm she pointed off to their left, to the
trees beside the interstate. He nodded and led them off course, aiming for the
forest beyond. Grandma lived in these woods, though miles and miles away. She
wondered how long they would have to hide in the woods, though she didn’t
wonder long.

Sam led Will alongside Jack and over the two lanes of
interstate from the median. Within seconds they plunged down the hillside and
into the trees beyond. Under the canopy of the forest felt like a different
world altogether. Leaving behind the ash and destruction was a nice change,
considering that someone was searching for them with ill intentions. Here and
there ferns gathered amongst the great trunks of old trees. Every time the wind
gusted, droplets of water fell from the branches above to rain down on them and
Sam discovered a problem they hadn’t anticipated before. Here, like the paved
roads covered in slimy ash residue in and around the city, was a surface that
marked their passing with ease. Every step they took disrupted the fallen layer
of leaves upon the ground and in several locations the ground was so moist they
left tracks as they passed. If the rider found their trail, they would be
easier to follow now that they had left the hard packed, manmade surfaces.

There was less light in the forest, much of it blocked out
by the canopy of trees above, but even so, one didn’t need much light to follow
an obvious trail. Sam could only hope that the rider missed their trail and
continued on down the interstate in search of them. Or even better, she hoped
the rain would come and wash all evidence of their passing away. But her hopes
were quickly dashed when a horse neighed in the distance behind them. He was
gaining on them.

“Run,” Jack said with a determined look on his face.

Sam didn’t hesitate. Making sure Will understood with a
look, she began to pick up her speed, letting him set a pace for her that his
smaller legs were comfortable with. On they ran. Again. Oh how she despised
running. Sure it was great for her booty and abs, not to mention the definition
in her legs, but really? Couldn’t they just catch a break?

For an hour they continued moving as fast as Will could go,
hearing their pursuer from time to time as a storm settled in above them. Though
they needed to keep going, Sam watched as Jack slid to a stop just a few dozen
yards ahead, holding out his hands in warning as she guided Will to slow also. There,
in the ground at Jack’s feet, was a small chasm in the ground about the size of
her old bed, back home, where she wished she would just wake up this very
instant. But she knew that wasn’t going to happen. Sadly, this wasn’t just a
dream.

“Why don’t we just go around it, Jack?” Sam asked, both out
of breath and aggravated.

“I have a plan. We can’t run forever.”

And just like that the storm broke above them as lightning
flashed in the distance. Wind whipped through the trees, howling a mournful
sound as water was caught up in its grasp to lash at Sam’s face. Nodding her
understanding to Jack, she turned to Will and pulled his hood up and over his
head, guiding him away from the hole so there were no accidents.

* * * * *

Rain poured down through the trees, seeming to dance and
sway in the wind in all different directions before striking the ground in a
strange symphony of sounds that only a forest could make. Here and there
lightning flashed through the trees, casting shadows that seemed to move with
lives of their own as thunder rumbled in the heavens, shaking the ground
beneath them. But Will paid all of it scant attention. Instead, he watched as
Sam and Jack worked furiously in the storm to create a trap.

Gathering limbs, his brother and sister began lacing them
together across the opening in the ground. It was slow going at first, trying
to find branches stout enough to span the distance, but weak enough to give
beneath the rider when he crossed, but as Jack and Sam worked, their pace
increased and before long the hole was all but covered. Unfortunately, it was
quite obvious.

Lighting flashed and with it shadows danced all around them,
but Will stayed focused on his siblings. He hated storms. Next came leaves,
lots of leaves, which Jack and Sam piled in a thin layer atop the boughs they
had used to weave their trap with. With the rain and wind, the leaves were
quickly laid flat just like those everywhere else, and those that were caught
up in the wind were carried off, hiding all signs of tampering. Still, however,
Jack wasn’t done.

As Sam came to retrieve him, Will watched Jack drag two
large branches into place on either side of their trap, making a funnel that
led to the hole. Then, dragging his feet, he left an obvious trail up to the
hole before skirting around it and doing the same upon the other side. Thunder
rolled across the sky, causing Will to jump slightly, but it was not the
thunder that scared him. Even after the thunder faded to nothing, the sound of
thrumming still sounded, and it was getting closer. The rider was nearly on top
of them. Will began to run.

With Jack and Sam to either side of him, Will tried his best
to run faster than ever before, but with the wet leaves and uneven ground he
found himself struggling just to stay upright half of the time. Try as he might
to avoid it, he slipped and fell several times, but fought the urge to cry each
time and ignored whatever pain came with the fall. Jack and Sam needed him to
be like them, strong and fast, and he was trying so hard. That was, at least,
until he heard the scream.

It wasn’t the scream of a person, though it was joined by a
shrieking panicked yell of a man. No. This was the scream of a fear or pain-stricken
animal that was innocent. One that didn’t understand what was happening or why
something had just happened to it. One that was hurt and afraid. It was the
spine-tingling scream of the rider’s horse, joined with the fearful yell of the
rider himself in the distance behind them. They had found Jack’s trap. Will knew
all along that Jack would catch the man. Jack was smart and strong, just like Dad.

Though he expected them to go back, Jack and Sam led him on
through the woods, continuing in the same direction they had been going for
hours. Eventually the rain stopped, not that it mattered with all of his
clothes soaked, but it was a nice change, he supposed. Through the evening they
kept moving, though slower than earlier in the day, and by nightfall Will could
hardly keep walking. His eyes were heavy and his legs felt like lead weights. When
he fell, twice in a row and tried his best to get up the second time but
couldn’t, Jack picked him up and they kept moving. On and on. Will tried to
stay awake. He tried to see where they would go or what would happen, but his eyes
betrayed him. He should have known they weren’t his friends. Every time he ever
wanted to keep them open, like on Christmas Eve when Santa was supposed to
come, they never did. Never. They always closed and put him to sleep. This time
was no different.

It was early morning when they reached the road. If Jack was
right, this was the first road that ran parallel to the interstate, meaning if
they simply crossed it and kept going straight, the next road would be
Grandma’s road. But he couldn’t just cross it and keep going. He was exhausted.
Sam was exhausted. She could barely walk. All of them needed sleep, and a place
to dry. If they kept on going wet and tired like this they would get sick. Jack
looked up and down the road, locating a driveway just a few hundred yards to
the west and turning he guided Sam towards it, with Will still in his arms.

Though they walked, or trudged, more or less, it took little
time to reach the driveway and looking down it Jack saw a man-made structure
that had survived the event. It was not the house. No. Walking down the
driveway, Jack looked at the charred remains of the house that had collapsed
and fallen into what had been its basement. Instead, the building he had his
eyes on was a small metal storage shed that seemed to be completely intact.

With his hopes of finding Grandma’s house intact dashed, he
hung his head and dragged himself towards the small metal building. Sliding the
door open, he inspected the prefabricated building that before the event could
have been purchased at any home improvement store. It was maybe ten feet across
and ten feet deep with storage shelves along one wall. In the corner was a walk-behind
push mower and on one wall were shovels and other yard implements, but Jack
didn’t care. Placing Will in the center of the floor, he watched as Sam
stumbled through the door like some kind of zombie and he slid the door closed
behind them. Without any form of latch or handle, Jack crossed the small space
in two steps and grabbed a pair of shovels. Wedging them against the door on
either side to prevent it from sliding, he did his best to seal them in,
knowing all the while that if someone wanted in, they could easily find a way. But
there was no help for it. They couldn’t go on any further.

Lying himself beside Will, he grinned at Sam opposite of
him, who was already snoring lightly, and closed his own eyes to join his
siblings in sleep.

Waking with a start and gasping for breath, Jack blinked
away the image of the rider latching onto him from behind like he had done in
the city. With his heart racing he wiped the sweat from his face with his
sleeve, looking all about him, noting that light entered the building through
the door’s poor weather seals. Unsure how long he had slept, and not daring to
find himself back in the nightmare he had just escaped, Jack sat up and pulled
a bottle of water from his pack. Drinking thirstily, he returned the cap to the
bottle and debated waking Sam and Will to continue their search for Grandma’s
house.

Unsure if it was morning the next day, or evening the same
day he had entered the storage shed, he decided against waking his siblings,
allowing them to rest while he went out to explore. Rising cautiously, he
removed both shovels from the door and placed them against the wall. Carefully,
inch by painstaking inch, he slid the door to the side just enough to pass
through the opening before turning to close it once more.

Looking about he found there was little to see but the
collapsed wreckage of the house. Where there had once been a manicured lawn and
flower beds, now long grass and weeds covered everything, creeping even across
the driveway in places where cracks had formed in the concrete. Nearing what
was once a home, Jack peered down into the cinder block basement that was once
its foundation. Piled amongst the fallen burned timbers were the remains of a
bedframe and some springs from mattresses. The burned shells of several
electronic devices littered the debris, but more or less it was mostly just a
loose pile of charred wood and broken dreams. Jack wondered how many people had
lived in the house. Had they known this was coming? Did they try to hide from
whatever the event was? Were they alive somewhere out there? Everywhere he
looked were more questions without answers and Jack realized that more than
food and water, what he and his siblings needed were the answers to their
questions.

Carefully picking a path, Jack climbed down into the
basement that looked like an oversized fire pit, using the charred pieces of
lumber as hand and foot holds as he made his way into what had been the
basement. Nearing an old shelf that still stood in the corner of the large
concrete room, Jack spied the rows of jars upon it that he had hoped to find. Though
many were broken from the impact of falling debris from above, it appeared that
several remained in one piece.

Clearing a few fallen bits of timber that remained between
him and the shelf, Jack began sifting through the mason jars of varying sizes
upon the shelves. Upon inspection, the vast majority of the jars on the shelves
showed signs of cracks, but many more had blackened substances within, though
any vinegar or preservative solution was gone, having leaked or been evaporated
away by the heat of the fire.

One by one Jack picked through the jars, discarding them
again and again. It took several minutes to inspect them all and sort through
them, but when it was all said and done he managed to find two intact jars of
pickled eggs on the bottom shelf, nearest the concrete wall behind it. Placing
each of the smaller jars into the pockets on his sweatshirt, Jack turned back
the way he had come. He had managed to find breakfast. Odd breakfast, but
breakfast nonetheless.

* * * * *

Samantha woke abruptly to find herself being shaken quite
violently by hands entirely too close to her throat to be comfortable. Her eyes
popping open, and nearly bulging from her head, she tried to make sense of her
surroundings as it bounced around, Will’s face coming into and out of her view
as she rocked this way and that. Somehow making the connection between her
shaking body and Will’s face, against the urge to vomit, Sam tried to create
words.

“Wi…Wi… Will…st…st…stop it!” she finally managed.

Fortunately he listened as her world slowly spun and bounced
to a stop, with Will’s small face just an inch from her own as he stared at her
a serious look upon his little features.

“Jack is gone. I looked outside and don’t see him,” Will
admitted.

Something must have begun shaking her again because it felt
like the floor had just dropped out from beneath her as the urge to vomit
returned and the world began spinning again. Had the rider escaped the chasm in
the woods and tracked them? Had he taken Jack? And then her panicking stopped. She
couldn’t afford to lose control. Will sat there looking at her, his breathing
coming in wisps and hiccups. Sam took a deep breath.

Sitting up more suddenly than she should have as her world
settled around her, Sam looked to Will and reaching up, she grasped both of his
shoulders.

“Honey, I don’t know where Jack is, but we’ll go look
together, OK?”

He nodded, words having become too complicated. Pulling him
close she hugged him, though not tightly, afraid she might push him into an
attack. He was already worried. It wasn’t like Jack to just leave them. Not
unless something had happened. But she couldn’t focus on that. Not now. She had
to focus on Will.

“OK, pumpkin, you need to settle down so we can go look for
him.”

“K.”

“No, I mean it, Will. You take some deep breaths and calm
down.”

She watched him nod and hiccup his way through a few
attempts at deep breaths, before his breathing finally calmed over a span of
several minutes. Once she felt he was in good enough condition to go outside,
she picked up one of the shovels leaning against the wall and pushed the door
open, screaming and nearly peeing herself, dropping the shovel, as a face just
outside the door yelled
boo
at her.

Grinning like a fool, she slapped him in the chest, cursing
Jack for his childish behavior. Will, who had been close to an anxiety induced
asthma attack minutes before burst into laughter, clapping one hand over his
mouth and the other around his mid-section as he doubled over in a fit of
giggles. Sam wasn’t about to take such abuse and so she tackled Will to the
floor and began tickling him as Jack stood in the doorway laughing at both of
them.

Not wanting to push Will too hard, Sam relented in her
tickle attack as both she and Will turned their attention back to the door. There
Jack stood with a small jar in each hand. Though a year ago she would have
turned her nose up at the pickled eggs, something she had tried and detested
exactly one time. Now, they strangely looked delicious. She couldn’t wait to
bite into one. It was strange wanting to eat the eggs, but stranger that she
knew she didn’t like them and still
really
wanted to eat them.

After the three of them devoured an entire jar of pickled
eggs, they packed up their bags and each of them shouldered their stuff before
walking out of the shed. The sky was clear and the cold northern wind had
ended. Sam couldn’t help but feel that this day would be better than those
behind them.

* * * * *

Will, although having to spend another whole day walking,
was rather enjoying the mood of the day now that they had full bellies, and
both Jack and Sam seemed happier. He walked or skipped between them, beneath
the trees above, just enjoying their company and the scenery as they passed. He
had started the morning by counting squirrels, something that he hadn’t seen
until now. There were birds too, and once he was certain he had heard a dog
bark in the distance, but didn’t hear it again.

After tiring of counting squirrels he looked to the trees,
admiring the leaves that were turning multitudes of colors, something he had
only witnessed in his box of crayons for months while they were locked in the
vault. Now, color was all around him, a swirl the like of which he couldn’t remember
aside from cartoons. He sure missed cartoons. Robots and talking sea creatures
and animals sharing bodies. Not having cartoons was a bummer.

It was shortly after noon when his stomach began growling,
but not in a hungry way. Feeling the pressure build, his tummy really starting
to hurt, he picked up his pace, moving ahead of both Jack and Sam by several
steps before giving into his body’s urge and releasing the pressure in his
tummy. It took only a couple seconds to see the devastating effects of his
biological attack.

Sam and Jack had been talking about what they might find
over the days to come when, turning around, Will watched as Sam’s face
scrunched up and Jack raised his sleeve to cover his face. Sam tried to say
something but her breath got stuck, and she gagged. Twice. Will couldn’t help
himself. He began laughing hysterically, watching as Sam tried and failed to
recover several more times before her rendering of speechlessness was overcome
by her stubbornness. He was still laughing when she tackled him again.

Tickling and pinching, Sam climbed atop him, pinning him to
the ground as he struggled and thrashed against her attack.

“Stop, Sam,” Will laughed as he tried to dislodge her with
his legs.

“Never, you stinky little monster,” Sam replied, redoubling
her effort.

“You asked for it,” Will warned, and tightened down his
tummy, releasing another blast.

Back Sam rocked, tipping off of him, but now it was a joint
attack. Rolling to his side so he could regain his feet, Will watched as Jack
grabbed Sam’s arms, pinning her down.

“Come and get her back, buddy. Tickle her till she turns
purple.”

Will didn’t delay. Half walking, half lunging, he climbed
atop Sam’s legs and began tickling her ribs as she took a turn at thrashing and
kicking amongst her laughs, screams, and giggles. He didn’t know how long they
played, but it felt great. Before the vault they hardly ever found time to play
with him. It seemed his pickled egg ammunition had run out, and like all
things, it couldn’t last forever, and soon enough, or perhaps too soon, they
were back on their way in search of Grandma’s road.

They found it only three hours later, stepping out of the
forest onto a narrow paved road that wound both east and west away from them
through the trees. Nearly straight across from them a mailbox thrust up out of
the ground beside the road, declaring the address as one twenty one, Sherwood
Lane. Grandma’s house was only a short way away, being the only address in the
two hundred range. Turning left, Jack led them down the street, each of them
falling silent. Will worried that Grandma’s house would be gone like the one
they stayed at last night. He watched as they passed two more mail boxes. They
were getting closer.

Remembering Grandma’s hardwood floors and green curtains,
Will walked head down as they followed the quiet road. Nearly every memory he
had of Grandma’s was a good memory. There wasn’t any computers or internet at Grandma’s,
so Jack and Sam always played with him there. They always had holidays at
Grandma’s, and holidays not only meant that he didn’t have to go to school, but
he also got spoiled and Grandma kept a dish of candy on the coffee table. It
couldn’t be gone. It just couldn’t.

It took them only twenty minutes to reach the drive at the
end of which was a mailbox with the flag upon it still in the up position. Turning
down the driveway they all moved slower than they had before, but in the end it
was inevitable. Rounding the bend in the driveway, the trees parted revealing
their first view of the house they had spent countless holidays in.