The Storm (34 page)

              “Look at all this!” said one man.

              “Who’s the stiff?” answered his friend.

              A few seconds passed. “No idea. Don’t recognize him. One of us?”

              “Maybe. Looks like he had a ton of food outside. Check the house.”

              A gentle thud echoed as one of them hopped through the front door. His boots scraped the floor below me as he pounded forward.

             
TING.

              A metallic sound rang out. He probably had accidently kicked some silverware on the floor that Slav had spilled out earlier when he looted us. There was a pause and then more footsteps. The old wooden floor always creaked as people walked around it.
Death may be only a few seconds away
, I thought, and I looked down upon one of my favorite pictures. We were in DC on the mall and we all took a picture in front of the Lincoln Memorial. Stacy was holding Paul as a baby in her arms and I had Tabitha on my shoulders as we stood in front of Mr. Lincoln. It was a perfect day and a perfect memory to go out on. I closed my eyes and waited.

              “What do you see?” shouted a man from outside.

              “Ummmm . . . Hey, Jose. Man . . . This house is whack. Dead people in here.” I heard another thump as he jumped the door to go back outside. “Looks like one of our guys already hit this house and piled all the good shit outside.”

              “Why did they just go here and not the neighbor’s house?”

              “Hey, man, I don’t know. Maybe they saw that hot bitch run in there and followed her. Anyways, man, look at all this food!” His voice carried a distinct tone of satisfaction.

              “Yeah, and a wheelbarrow too. We need to load this and go, man.”

              Within seconds, I could hear no more as I held onto the memory of the Lincoln Memorial. Death had rejected me again. I patiently sat, waiting for its return.

***********************************

              Hours passed without event. Ironically it was the most peaceful time I had experienced in days. When one loses everything, he has nothing to worry about. Eventually I could take no more sitting and had thoroughly looked through every picture on the album. If these jokers weren’t going to come in and kill me, I would have to go hunt them and force them to take me. I left my gun and walked downstairs. Not being able to look at my family, I jumped the door to leave the house for hopefully the last time. Everything was quiet outside, but the powerful odor of fire was in the air. I looked left and right and at first noticed that almost every door had been kicked in and windows were shattered. The illusion of safety within our homes was now as ancient as the dinosaurs.

              Houses around me were burning. I had been so lost in my own memories with the pictures that I hadn’t taken notice of the smell. Houses all around were burning to the ground and still more had small fires beginning their burn. Just before dawn, we were still alive and going on the offense in order to survive. Now, we were toast.
Amazing how fast twists of fate can occur
, I thought. I had lost everything that mattered and yet somehow I walked on while the world burned around me. I had wondered before how the rest of the world was doing and looking into the flames coming from Tom Jones’s home, I knew the answer. The fire was all consuming and would take all. The dwellings not consumed by the flames were pillaged and trashed to the point of being uninhabitable. All America and modern civilization was dead. Survivors there would be, no doubt, but the world was changed forever.

              Blood pools were still on the ground as well as chunks of flesh where I had killed the bald man along with his compatriots a while ago. Their bodies had been taken back with their friends. Savages, I had called them, but they were just like me, only fate had drawn us up as competitors for life in this cruel new world. A couple of weeks ago and I might have been selling them a financial product to increase their net worth. A person’s worth now was what gun they carried and the skills they possessed at surviving. A brave new world that would be all too familiar to our ancient ancestors.

              Through the freshly plowed field I marched. Disturbing the seeds that were to nourish life here was the last thing on my mind. The pool house was ahead, and I meant to see what was left. As I walked, everything was eerily silent. The invaders had vanished, and death was their only gift to us. The pool house was like a meat factory where the blades spun fast and a factory line ran wild while continuously feeding fresh meat into the blades, which exploded in every direction. Chunks of flesh lay all over the floor and bodies were strewn about. Everyone was dead and had been killed dozens of times over.

              As I walked around the pool house inspecting the corpses, I identified various people who I knew. Each time I saw a face I was familiar with, it would bring fresh agony, like a thousand cuts of a knife in my heart. Samantha lay in the middle of the floor, her shiny heels being the only part of her not covered in blood. A dark black man’s head was gone, all that was left were his bright white teeth which were on display as his mouth hung open in a gruesome last scream of agony. Finally I found Puba and Zeke together. She couldn’t sell herself out of this trouble, but Zeke had at least tried to protect her, and his body lay on top of hers. Poor kid, he was just starting to grow up and display some qualities that were garnering respect from me. Chumi had finally left her house as her lifeless body was recognizable only by the black burka she wore in mourning her husband.

              The remainder of the day was spent burying the dead. The freshly plowed field was convenient as it was close to most of the bodies, and the dirt was freshly dug up. Sinking my shovel into the dirt and grinding out a long trench wasn’t hard, just a lot of work. All day I spent shoveling, never a moment thinking about anything else other than the sorrow I felt for myself. I had tried so hard to protect my family and to serve the community. All were gone now. Why was I still alive?
Fate had a cruel sense of irony,
I thought.

              My hole wasn’t deep, but it was long. There were chunks of flesh I couldn’t clean, but I managed to drag out all the bodies. Most of the corpses were touching each other, and some lay on top of others. It wasn’t proper, but I was one man trying to take care of a whole community. This was at least better than leaving them for the ravens. For my family, I dug a bit deeper and gave each of them space. I left a crucifix for the mass grave and one each for my family. Saying good-bye was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. The whole night I sat there looking over the graves, crying as the fires continued to burn around me. The heavens couldn’t cry as much as I had, and even if they could, it wouldn’t have quenched the thirst of the fire.

             
What now, Josh?
I didn’t know. Revenge? Go out in a blaze of glory. It was tempting to think about marching down Plantation Road to fight them, but that was a stupid, vain idea. Stay here? I had no supplies now that the invaders had come and taken everything. Adam Greenleaf had known from the beginning what was coming and tried to warn me. He was right. Society is fragile, and only a small push is what’s needed to take it over the edge into anarchy. The solar storm was that push, and I thought I could stand against it like a damn holding back a river, but I swept downstream just as quickly as the rest of society.

              Even the best of people’s creations grind down over time to nature, and I should have known better. There was nothing for me here now. Stacy would want me to live on, but I had lost everything. I stood up and brushed the dirt from my pants. Standing there looking over the grave, I made a cross against my chest and waved good-bye. To Stacy and the kids, I blew a final kiss and then turned and started walking. North I would go. To where it would take me, I had no idea. Perhaps I would find a new home or walk into someone’s trap. I was now a refugee and set off onto the road.

THE END