Dark Days: The Long Road Home, a post apocalyptic novel (8 page)

He sensed Gemma watching him, and groped for her hand. Her warm fingers curled around his. The smell of her was intoxicating, and he rested his chin on her head as the station wagon roared past the intersection, chasing the lone headlight.

From a doorway across the street a figure emerged, staring after the car.

The station wagon slowed, and Gemma's hand tightened on his. He pulled her closer. The car kept moving, the sound of tearing metal screeching through the air as it pushed through an obstacle.

In the distance they heard shouting as people tried to flag it down, and then all was silent again.

Letting go of Gemma's hand, Christopher made his way back to the corner of the building.

His bike was still there. Someone was standing over it, the bright beam of their flashlight shining on the silver frame.

“Damn it,” Christopher cursed.

“Christopher?” Gemma was right behind him.

“Stay here,” he growled.

“Where are you going?”

“To get my bike.”

“I'm coming with you.” Gemma met his eyes with steely determination.

“Fine,” Christopher nodded. “But if I tell you to get back–”

“I'm not completely helpless,” Gemma flared. “I don't need you to protect me.”

“I'm sorry–”

“I'm not seventeen years old anymore,” Gemma said.

“Gemma!” Christopher hurried to catch up as she stormed recklessly ahead of him.

How the hell had he forgotten how headstrong she was? She wasn't one of the weak, simpering women he'd been seeing who tripped over themselves in order to please him.

She was more likely to do the opposite of what anyone told her.

When Gemma saw the tall, thin man picking Christopher's bike up from the ground, she slowed, not completely foolhardy.

Maneuvering himself between Gemma and the man, Christopher's anger flared. “That's mine,” he shouted.

The man's head jerked up. “Don't got no name on it.”

Christopher reacted strongly to the childish retort, his anger rising quickly, almost violently. In no mood to deal with some smartass punk, Christopher charged toward him with the intention of getting his bike back, more than ready for a fight.

“Christopher – wait.” Gemma hurried after him.

“I said. That's. My. Bicycle,” Christopher bit out.

The kid – and Christopher realized that's what he was – backed off, scurrying across the street.

He couldn't have been any older than fourteen or fifteen, but damn he'd wanted to hit him, and that scared the hell out of him. Was he already turning into a savage over something as unremarkable as a bicycle?

“Christopher?” Gemma touched his arm.

With his emotions spiraling out of control, Christopher latched onto the sound of her voice. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her roughly to him, crushing his lips to hers, the anger, the confusion, the fear of what they might be driven to in these dark days coursing through him.

10

Gemma's surprise quickly turned to something else as Christopher claimed her mouth. Heat coursed through her body, which responded before her mind even clued onto what was happening.

The rational part of her knew her strong reaction was one akin to losing a loved one – the need for human contact – to feel alive, whole, in a world that had irrevocably changed forever.

“We better go.” Christopher pulled away, regret in his eyes as he ran a hand through his dark hair.

Gemma turned away, not wanting him to see how much his kiss – or regret – affected her.

She resolved herself to focusing on one thing and one thing only. Getting home to CJ and Daphne. She didn't need any added complications. Especially not from a man who could so easily turn his back on his own child. Christopher was just a means to an end – they both happened to have the same destination.

And the past was the past, better left dead and buried, just like ... she quickly broke off that train of thought. It would do her no good to take a trip down that particular road of memory lane.

After a short debate on whether or not they should go back to the car for more supplies, it was quickly decided it would only make them a target. Gemma couldn't help but worry what the future held. Had things really fallen apart this quickly? Or had they just been unlucky? She'd seen enough of the darker side of life and the evils of alcohol to hope it had just been a random occurrence. Something that might have happened regardless of the pulse.

Robert argued that for the child's sake they should risk going back. Megan insisted Mike would be home soon, and that she could come back then.

“What if he can't get back?” Robert asked gently. “You have no idea how far away his rig was when the pulse hit.”

“He will,” Megan snapped, obviously already worried about this possibility. Megan's voice softened. “And if he doesn't – if something's happened to him – I'll have to figure out how to survive on my own sooner or later anyway, won't I,” she shrugged. “I've got Becky to think of.”

Robert nodded, his face thoughtful as the weary group continued on in silence.

“Make sure you use the stroller for cover,” Anne said a few minutes later. When Megan just looked blankly at her, she added, “When you come back for the water. Most people will leave you alone.”

“Like Wally and his lot?” Robert scowled.

“There's always been idiots like Wally. Always will be.” Anne narrowed her eyes at Robert, the warning in them clear. “Have a little more faith in people.”

Gemma couldn't help but feel reassured by Anne's words, and hoped the woman was right.

The streets were quiet as they moved away from the business district, jam-packed with apartment buildings with various light sources spilling from the windows. Flashlight beams that cut through dark apartments as people moved from room to room, the soft flickering of candlelight and the yellow white light of battery operated lamps glowed.

As they moved further into the tightly packed residential area they saw neighbors chattering across balconies. Some sat in darkness. Others used candles or camping lanterns and kerosene lamps.

The soft, reassuring tones of their voices carried down, and the laughter of children drifted through open windows.

“See,” Anne said pointedly to no one in particular.

As they approached Megan's apartment building, the girl stiffened.

“Which one's yours?” Gemma asked.

Megan pointed. “Third one down on the right.”

Megan's disappointment was palpable as they drew nearer, as though she'd been hoping Mike would be there. Or maybe it hit her that she'd be alone with her daughter as she stared up at the dark windows.

“I'm sure Mike's on his way,” Anne said gently as Robert moved away to talk with Christopher and Donavon.

Megan nodded, her eyes shining.

The idea of leaving them here made Gemma feel all sorts of terrible. But what else were they to do? She had to get back to CJ.

“Where are the stairs?” Christopher asked as he chained his bike to a post.

Once they were inside the building, they unpacked the stroller. Christopher and Donavon carried the heavy water bottles up the stairs. Robert grabbed the case of lemonade from the stroller.

“We need something to carry the loose drinks,” Anne said.

“I'll go fetch a bag,” Megan said.

“We can use this.” Gemma shook out the picnic blanket, and they quickly loaded the drinks onto the centre of it.

Tying the corners together, Gemma fashioned a sack. She heaved it over her shoulder, the weight making her lean to one side.

Fifteen minutes later they were in Megan's apartment by the light of three large, lavender scented candles, arguing with Megan. Little Becky was asleep on the couch.

“It will only go off anyway.” Megan left the freezer door open as she dumped chicken nuggets, hamburger steaks, and a bag of sausages into the sink.

Gemma slammed the door shut. “It will keep longer if it's closed. Besides, how do you plan on cooking it?”

“There's a grill on the balcony.” Megan's words brought all three men to their feet.

“Charcoal or gas?” Christopher asked.

“It has a gas canister,” Megan said. “Mike's dad bought it as a house warming gift – he grew up in Australia. Says everyone needs a
barbie for their snags
.
” A faint smile crossed her face at the memory as she pulled a fresh lettuce and a tomato out of the fridge.

“Just the stuff that won't keep,” Gemma said, not at all comfortable with eating the girl's food. Megan was too soft hearted. She'd be lucky to survive the week if she didn't start putting her and Becky first.

“I just – it's – after everything you've all done.” Megan waved her hands helplessly. “It would be selfish to–”

“If you want to survive you have to be selfish,” Anne told the girl, her voice almost harsh. “What?” she said when everyone stared at her. “I might be an optimist, but I'm also a realist.”

When Megan saw that the others were in agreement, she nodded her head meekly.

“Good girl,” Robert said gently, and Gemma felt an unexpected surge of emotion well through her; the big guy had taken a fatherly interest in the girl and this touched her.

Gemma's emotions were all over the place, and with the dark days that were undoubtedly ahead of them, it surprised her that something so simple could affect her so strongly.

“Yes dad,” Megan joked, rolling her eyes, but it was obvious she was pleased by his attention, and she gave him a tentative smile.

Gemma opened the fridge and took out the milk, cheese, prepackaged sandwich meats and other things that wouldn't keep, and put them in the freezer.

“Don't open that until tomorrow – eat what's in the fridge first,” she told Megan.

Gemma went through the cupboards next, pleased when she saw several tins of
 
formula.

“They were on special this week,” Megan said. “Mike and I are saving for...” she trailed off, a frown creasing her brow.

“If you're careful you should be able to make this stretch out for at least a few weeks, maybe longer,” Gemma said, her heart suddenly heavy. Then what? It was too hard to think about – the girl insisted on staying when Christopher invited her to come with them.

“I did the grocery shopping yesterday,” Megan said. “I got extra – Mike's parents were going to fly up.”

As they ate Gemma listed all the possible sources of water she could think of on the back of an envelope. “I suggest you save the bottled water and use anything else you can find first.”

“Like the water in the toilet tank?” Megan's face screwed up.

“If it comes to that. Boil any water you're not sure of. Especially if it's been sitting stagnant. When you run out of gas make a fire in the bathtub if its heat resistant – or even the sink or laundry tub if you have to. Use anything you have for fuel.” She gestured at the table, the chairs. The bookshelf. “You can use the hot water to sterilize Becky's bottle. Then boil the water again. You have to boil it for eight minutes to kill any germs.”

Gemma was glad to see the girl was scared. It might mean the difference between surviving or becoming a statistic. “If it rains–”

“I know, I know – put out everything I own that will hold water.”

“Look for places where it's flowing faster.” Gemma's mind was moving too fast. She knew she was jumping all over the place as more things came to her, but she was helpless to stop it. “Try under the eaves of the building.”

“The corners of the balcony,” Donavon added.

“And the rainwater pipe,” Anne said. “You could cut it open and get the water from the roof.”

Gemma was pleased to see the others throwing their ideas in; they were thinking like survivors now.

“Tomorrow will be your best chance to get supplies,” Gemma stressed. “The streets will be crammed with people looking for food and water. Most of them will already have enough to last a few days, so they won't be feeling too desperate yet. Get the rest of the stuff from the car and anything else you can find. Use the stroller – make lots of small trips. Put a layer on the seat and cover it with a thick blanket, then put Becky in. Most people won't pay you the slightest bit of attention. But after tomorrow, you lie low...” Gemma trailed off, not even wanting to think about what people would resort to in the following days and weeks.

*
 
*
 
*

Christopher couldn't help but be impressed by Gemma's insight. She obviously had a good handle on human nature and was considering things that hadn't even crossed his mind. But there was one thing she hadn't considered.

“It's probably best not to go out at night if you can help it,” Christopher said.

Megan was a pretty girl. In his line of work he came across the worst of humanity. People who'd take advantage of the situation as soon as they realized they had no one to answer to but themselves.

Donavon nodded soberly, and Anne shifted uncomfortably in her seat, all too aware of the sort of people Christopher was thinking of.

Christopher grabbed the envelope Gemma had scrawled on and turned it over. “This is where we're headed.” He drew a simple map. “If you get stuck...” his jaw tightened. Damn it, he had his own family to worry about. But he couldn't help feeling responsible for Megan and her daughter.

“I'm not sure what to say.” Megan gave them a shaky smile as she realized this was their cue to leave.

She suddenly looked so young as her clear blue eyes moved between them. “I can never thank you enough. Any of you.”

“Just survive, dear.” Anne patted Megan's hand as she stood. “That will be thanks enough.”

Megan twisted her pale fingers together as she closed the gap between her and Robert. Hesitating a few feet in front of him, she chewed at the corner of her lip, her brow dipping. Then she launched herself at him, her arms stretching around his wide shoulders. “I never knew my father,” she murmured. “Your daughter was lucky to have you.”

Robert looked embarrassed by Megan's praise, but his face softened. Some of the sadness Christopher sensed earlier seemed to lift.

“Be safe,” Megan said. “All of you – just be safe.”

“Actually,” Robert cleared his throat, “I'm going to hang around.”

“You are?” Megan's face brightened as she pulled away to look at him.

“Just until your Mike shows up. Then I'm going to head for my cousin's farm,” Robert said. “Besides – I promised you a story.”

“You did,” Megan agreed.

“Tomorrow we can swing by my place.” Robert patted his belly as they made their way to the door, trying to lighten the suddenly somber mood. “As you can see I like my food, and cooking is one of the few joys I have left in life. I have a particularly well-stocked kitchen. The contents of my freezer alone could feed a small army if we could figure out how to keep it fresh.”

“Salt,” Megan said.

“Salt?”

“I learned about it at school. They used salt to preserve things in the old days.”

“You know,” Robert said. “That's about the only thing I don't have. Doctor warned me off it years ago.”

They hadn't even reached the door to the stairwell when Megan shouted at them to stop.

“Wait.” Megan's shoes slapped at the floor as she hurried after them.

Christopher twisted awkwardly under the weight of the water bottle destined for Anne's. He was anxious to be on his way. At first he hadn't been entirely sure if it was wise to leave that night. Now he wanted to get at least as far as the highway while the city was sleeping.

“You said you were riding?” Megan said.

Christopher adjusted the water bottle. “That's the plan.”

“I can't believe I didn't think of it before. After all you've done for me...” Megan turned to Gemma. “Take my bicycle. And Becky's trailer – you can use it to carry what you need to get home. It's in the storage locker downstairs.”

Christopher shook his head, albeit with deep regret. A bike trailer would be nothing short of brilliant. “You'll need it if you want to leave the city,” he told Megan.