Famine: The Quiet Apocalypse Read online

  But another part of me knew, no matter the arguments against it, we had to try. The air was clear enough that some of the others could take short trips out. They could search all the little convenience stores and homes we hadn’t yet felt were worth our time. They’d waste more fuel than we had, but maybe they could scrounge enough to keep them all alive until we either got back or the air cleared.

  The water shut off, and I was forced to leave my musing behind. I was sure Sam would have opinions, as would many of the others. Maybe we wouldn’t have to go after all. Maybe there was another way, a less dangerous way.

  We no longer got towels for our showers. They took water and electricity to wash, resources we couldn’t spare. So I stood in the outer part of the shower alcove for a moment until my shivering dried me off enough to wriggle back into my clothes.

  Then, still pushing at the numbness in my mind like it was a missing tooth or scab, I picked up my cane and headed back for the common area.

  The new guy, who’d identified himself as “just Dave,”, as sitting at the table surrounded by people. Once he’d had a shower and shaved off the shaggy beard, he turned out to be much younger than I’d originally thought, and not bad-looking. He had an odd charm that seemed to have the young women half ready to fight over him. Whatever his affliction, he masked it well. I had yet to see any hint of the anxiety or fearfulness that plagued the rest of us Resistants.

  Well, whatever he is, at least he’s a Resistant. Now they’ve got someone else to bully into exhaustion for a few weeks.

  ***

  “So what, they’re just going to leave us here to starve?” Why did I feel Alan’s focus was only on me as he said those words?

  “Of course not.” I resisted the urge to stand up and force them to look at me. “Look, something is still putting spores into the air. I know we all wanted to believe it was just taking time for them to dissipate, but I think we know it’s more than that.”

  “You’re the one that said we only have two weeks of food left. What happens when that’s gone?”

  I bit the inside of my cheek in an attempt not to come back with something childish. “Dr. Haroun managed to get to the city and back without falling apart. If she, a non-Resistant, can do that, the rest of y’all can too. It won’t be easy, but it’s possible.” I didn’t know why I was arguing so vehemently in favor of going. I didn’t even want to go. It would be so much easier to stay here in the relative warmth of Nevada versus trying to find our way to, and through, a bitterly cold wasteland and hope we survived long enough to find something that might not even exist. “We can stay here and keep bringing y’all food...but for how long? How long until the last car fails, and we have no more options? We’ll still be just as bad off as we are now, but worse, because we’d be stuck. If we do this...well, we could still be stuck, or we could be free of the spores forever.”

  For a moment they were actually quiet, and I glanced at Sam. We were all inside the big blue tent that held tables of now-useless electronics. Said tables had now been shoved against the canvas walls to make room for our meeting. The two of us sat on folding chairs in front of the rest of the group, who were lined up around us in a semi-circle. It wasn’t all of them, but it was enough. It was those who oversaw the bunker’s various sections, from Laura in inventory to Cook, to Alan, Dr. Haroun, and others. None of them looked happy. Sam was just looking down at his hands, and not being at all helpful.

  “I think they have to go.” Dr. Haroun’s clear, confident voice spanned the space between us. “We can’t just sit here and wait. We’ve already waited weeks. It isn’t getting any better, and I have patients who aren’t going to last two weeks without their meds, regardless of how much food we have. We need the spores gone.” She met my eyes, and in her gaze I could see her recognition of the magnitude of what we were contemplating.

  “Sam?” I prompted, trying to get him to say something--anything--to add to the conversation.

  Silence fell for a moment, then Sam sighed deeply and lifted his head to look out across the gathering. “I agree with Deidre. It needs to happen. But,” he stood and clasped his hands together behind his back. “A couple hours ago, I spoke with a very distraught young lady who is terrified of us leaving.” He pressed his lips together as I watched in shock.

  Zena? Does he mean Zena?

  “Not because she believes what we’re doing is wrong. Not even because she’s afraid for us. Her concerns are much more immediate. She has a desperate desire to help, and a deep empathy that tells her how she is merely tolerated here, rather than welcomed. We can’t take her with us, and even she acknowledged that.” He glanced down at me, then back at the crowd. “She told me that Deidre is the only one who has ever treated her like an equal.”

  As I watched the sadness in that man’s eyes, the way he fixed adults twice our age with a gaze of stone, and I knew it was all in defense of a lonely teenage girl, I was pretty sure I’d never loved anyone in my life so much as I loved that man in that moment.

  “We are in a new world now. We have a chance to start over, to fix what’s gone wrong. This…” he lifted one hand to gesture toward Zena’s tent, “is not the way to do it. We can’t go back to a world that looks down on those who are different and shuns the ones who don’t fit in. We can’t take that young woman with us, because it’s far too dangerous. I won’t have the blood of another child on my hands. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about her. And I don’t want to come back here and hear tales about how she’s been mistreated. You all have a chance to build the kind of tolerance the old world never managed to have. Now, the tables are turned and the ‘weak’ and ‘wimpy’ are the only ones who can save you. Maybe remember that, next time you have to deal with someone who’s mentally ill. Remember who’s kept you alive. Remember who stopped the spores. Stop acting like you’re better, because without us you’d all be dead.” With that, he spun on his heel and walked away.

  Such a contradiction to last night’s conversation, but I felt like I’d gained a window into Sam’s soul. There were times I wondered if he erred too much on the side of efficiency and forgot to be human. But then he came out with things like “I don’t want the blood of another child on my hands,” and made me realize his attitudes and actions came from a place of deep hurt. He didn’t want to leave Zena behind because he disliked her. No, it was the complete opposite.

  Honey Badger wriggled out from under the table she’d been hiding under and followed Sam as he strode toward the exit of the tent. I took my cue from them and stood. “We’re going. I don’t want to go, but we don’t have a choice. If you need someone to bully into exhaustion because he can go outside the bunker, maybe the new guy will volunteer. We have to find a way to end the spores forever if we want to survive. I wish there was another way.”

  “Well, let’s not make any decisions right this second. Give it a couple days, think about it, maybe get another supply run or two in before you go. That way, if you must go, you give the rest of us more of a fighting chance to survive until you get back. If you get back. Winter sets in fast and hard in those northern states, and we can’t exactly spare a ton of fuel.” Dr. Haroun, always a voice of reason, glanced around the group. “Just realize this is likely to be a one-way mission, and if you don’t come back, the rest of us are screwed.”

  Defeated, I sat back down. “What, then? We’re screwed either way. Sam and I can’t keep up with the needs of the group forever, and we’re running out of vehicles faster than we can get them repaired or replaced. We go out multiple times a week, but we can’t ever get more than a couple weeks ahead. We need another solution.”

  Alan nodded. “Not to mention that tarp isn’t doing much to keep the spores out, and I’ve got at least two of the filter fans threatening to break apart at any moment. I agree that we need a solution beyond sending you two into the city every couple days. Even if one or more of us can make it on the shorter trips, two hundred people will deplete everything within a half-hour radius wit
hin a short period of time.”

  “We have to go. I know it’s not ideal, but I don’t see any other options. We need the spores gone, so everyone can get out there and help, or so we can all move into town and be closer to resources. We won’t last the winter otherwise.” I stood again, and didn’t intend to be persuaded to sit back down. “Let’s give it a couple days and see if we can come up with anything better. I don’t want to go. But I don’t see how we have a choice.”

  Not waiting for a response, I followed Sam’s example and headed for the door. More than anything, I was afraid if I stayed, they would say something to change my mind. They’d give me an excuse to wait, to stay, to take the easy way out. And deep down, I think we all knew the only way we’d ever be able to build toward a future, rather than just survive, was to get rid of the spores once and for all.

  9: It's Getting Hot in Here...Literally

  For two days, I worried at the whole issue like a dog with a rat. Sam was determined, and on some level I was too, but I still had to persuade myself and the others of all the rational reasons why it needed to be done.

  Dave ended up being useful, if not the most savory character. We took him with us to a hardware store to pick up materials we hoped would seal off the broken skylight better than the tarp.

  On the second day, I woke to screaming and commotion outside my tent. When I emerged into the common area, I was hit with a wave of choking smoke.

  Instantly in crisis mode, I caught sight of Alan through the smoke and limped across the floor to him. “What is it?” I had to shout to be heard above the din of people freaking out.

  “The fan!” He shouted back, before directing someone to run outside and cut the wires.

  A loud whining sound echoed through the bunker, then a muffled explosion. I ducked. Everyone else did, too, amongst a chorus of screams and scrambling. Everyone was trying to get away from the spot high up on the wall where the giant fans sat right behind metal grilles.

  Someone grabbed my arm and helped me up. “Deidre, what’s going on?” It was Sam’s voice in my ear, and I pointed up at the smoke billowing from one of the vents.

  “Oh, shit.” We ducked again as another explosion sounded, and flames licked the air, followed by more smoke. Sam took off toward Alan and grabbed his arm. Through the pained roar of the failing fan, I could barely hear Sam yelling at Alan to get the power off. People stood clustered at the far end of the common area, clinging to each other, staring at the smoke in terror.

  I limped over to them. Sam and Alan had the power part taken care of; now it was time to make sure flying sparks didn’t take out anything inside.

  “Hey! We need to move the tents!” They stared at me in blank horror. They must already be under the spores’ influence. “Come on!” Frustrated, I reached out and tugged at the arm of the woman next to me. She squeaked, and moved further away. “Now!” I roared, hurting my throat in the process, but they finally seemed to understand. Through the shaking and the whimpering, there were nods of understanding. “Go get wet towels. Cover your heads. Then get in there and move stuff!” I started shoving people in the direction of the laundry room. Some of them resisted so hard they nearly knocked me over. By the time I got all of them headed in the right direction, I was panting.

  I didn’t bother with a towel. I headed back toward the wall and threw myself into moving things. Some of the braver ones were already in the midst of the fray with boxes and cartons, piling all the electronics from the blue tent into containers to be moved away. There was no time to think or worry as I joined in. My whole world narrowed down to that moment: piling wires in a box, tipping tables over to fold the legs in, then ferrying everything away from that wall.

  A third explosion rocked the bunker just as I exited the big blue tent with a box of electronics, and I dived for the floor along with everyone else. My heart pounded in my throat as I waited, sure I’d feel the slice of hot metal in my back at any second. Above our heads, flame roared out of the grille.

  My stomach sank as I saw it. “Everyone back!” I screamed at them, heedless of how it tore at my throat. “Everybody get back!” I grabbed the arm of the person closest to me and headed away just as the grille groaned and plummeted toward the top of the blue tent.

  I watched in horror. There are people inside. My hands went to my mouth as the mass of twisted metal fell on the tent, then kept going. Inside, people screamed. I couldn’t tell if it was in fear or pain.

  My cane had disappeared somewhere, so I lurched toward the burning tent without it. “Get water!” I yelled at anybody who would listen. “Buckets, wet towels, just get water!” I screamed in frustration when very few of them moved.

  As I pushed the flap aside and dived into the tent, a wall of smoke and pain hit me. It invaded my lungs, sending me into a coughing fit. I crashed to the ground and crawled. Nothing was going to keep me from reaching the people in front of me. Ahead, blanketed by smoke, people were crying in pain.

  Someone grasped at my arm. I crawled closer. It was one of the nurses, a young woman with blond hair and now a deep cut on her cheek. “Can you move?” she was huddled against the wall, sobbing. “Okay, then go. Crawl under the smoke. Get out of the tent. Help them put the fire out.”

  Without waiting for her response, I kept crawling.

  With a shudder, the power cut out, and the hum of the filtration system went quiet. I took a second to breathe a sigh of relief before continuing toward the moans of pain.

  “Hey. Hey, you’re okay.” I turned away as the smoke sent me into a coughing fit, then returned to the pale, gray-clad body pinned under the heavy grille. “Hey, you’re Kit, right?”

  The young woman nodded, then grimaced and whimpered in pain. “Help me. Please, help.”

  “I’m gonna help you.” I grabbed the end of the grille, careful not to touch the sharp edges, and shoved. Kit screamed. “Okay, okay. Hang in there, honey.” Taking a deep breath, I shoved again. I ignored Kit’s screams, no matter how much they shredded my heart.

  Someone scrambled up next to me, and I turned to find Sam there. “Sam, help!”

  “I’ll lift it. Get ready to pull her out.” At my nod, Sam took a breath and held it, then jumped up and wrapped his fingers around the bars. “Ready? Go!”

  As he groaned with effort, the grille moved upward. Just by a few inches, but it was enough to allow me to hook my hands under Kit’s armpits and pull. My heart pounded with effort and sweat poured from me as I hauled her backward.

  “Hurry!” At Sam’s order, I put more effort into it. Kit had gone white and silent except for where blood was streaked on her arms. I pulled with everything inside me, and she inched further out. “Deidre…” Sam groaned, and a glance at him made me redouble my efforts.

  Just as my vision was starting to go black around the edges, I pulled Kit free. Sam dropped the grille with a great clatter and dropped to hands and knees next to me, gasping for breath.

  “Kit. Hey.” Shaking off the lightheadedness, I bent over Kit’s face. She was unconscious. I couldn’t tell if her chest was moving. I put my fingers on her neck, feeling for a pulse. “Sam…” the sound came out in a whimper. “I can’t feel anything.”

  “Move.” I shifted aside at his order, and he placed his fingers on Kit’s neck. I watched, eyes watering with smoke and fear, as he sat there tense for a moment. A few seconds later, he let out a sigh of relief and reached out to grab my hand. “She’s alive. Come on.” Carefully, he gathered the limp body in his arms and after pulling in another breath, he staggered to his feet.

  We emerged from the tent, me choking and coughing on smoke, to a sea of pale-faced people. A cheer erupted as Sam lurched forward to deposit Kit on the hospital bed Dr. Haroun and a couple nurses had wheeled out. I watched, numb and frozen, as he let Kit down. As soon as she was safe, he collapsed against the edge of the bed and a couple people rushed over to lower him to the ground.

  “Sam.” The sight spurred me into motion. I rushed to him and careen
ed to the floor next to him as one of the nurses rolled him onto his back. “Sam!” I looked up into the nurse’s face. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “I don’t know.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “He’ll be okay. It’s probably just some smoke inhalation. Let us get Kit to the hospital tent and bring the other bed over.”

  Tears streamed from my eyes as I knelt by Sam’s side and watched the medical personnel wheel Kit away. Sam coughed, and I looked down to find his red, puffy eyes open and looking up at me. “Deidre.” He reached up a hand to touch my face. I watched helplessly as he descended into a coughing fit. All I could do was turn him onto his side as he choked and gagged.

  “Here. Hold this over his face.” I took the mask that was offered, and fitted it over Sam’s nose and mouth. The same nurse from earlier crouched next to me with a small canister under his arm. “The bed’s coming.”

  I watched, holding onto the mask as Sam lay limp and tried to catch his breath. Only his eyes told me he was conscious. His eyelashes fluttered, but his gaze was fixed on me. “You’re gonna be okay. It’s just smoke. You’ll be fine.” Sam managed a tiny nod, then let his eyes drift closed.