This was an absolute nightmare.
A large man, introduced as Three, sat beside me, sweating profusely on the car’s cracked leather seat. Apparently, humans in the military used numbers as names. Jude tried explaining why, but I didn’t care enough to listen. Both men were bald and had constant beads of sweat dripping down their neck rolls. Behind me, Eleven and Twelve, two blond women with knives strapped to their waists and hidden in their jacket pockets, glared at me with icy expressions from their seats. Driving the van was a man named Eight whose belly rested on the steering wheel.
Straight ahead, the sun’s light blazed into the van in a fiery orange glow, indicating we had a few more hours before the sun dipped below the horizon. “Look at that building.” Jude’s fingertip extended, pressing against the window. “What’s that place?”
I lifted my eyelids and saw a faded red building with a garden of broken cars in an old parking lot. The entrance was marked by enormous red balls and a heavy, circular sign, cracked and dirty, that leaned precariously against the jagged edges of the broken glass doors.
Eight, the large man driving spoke in a raspy, but gruff voice, “Sold guns, I’d assume.”
“And knives,” agreed Eleven from behind me.
“I dunno.” Jude wrapped his fingers around his chin like he was thinking. “Maybe it was an indoor shooting range?”
I let out a breath of air—half laughing, half exasperated with the conversation from those in my company. “It used to be a store, and they sold everything from groceries to household items. I remember my mother used to bring me there, and we would travel up and down the aisles for hours.”
With her shrill voice, Twelve asked, “Is that what you did for fun before the war?”
My lip curled before I answered, feeling her judgment. “No… Target always sold interesting items, things to make life easier you didn’t know you needed.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t remember, that was over sixty-five years ago.” I whipped my head around and shrugged my shoulders. “You know what? Let’s play a game… The quiet game. Anyone who speaks loses.”
A breath escaped her nose, and a silent chuckle passed between them. Their stifled laughter made me roll my eyes and throw myself back against the seat. My hands clenched, knuckles white, as I fought the overwhelming urge to turn and unleash my fury upon them.
“Whoa, whoa.” Jude put his hands up. “Let’s calm down and continue to get along. We have to work together to complete this mission.” The gray sky outside shifted to a vibrant yellow twilight, and the red bean pointed straight ahead. “We’re still on the right path. Let’s find shelter before nightfall. The Dogs’ night vision is much more precise than their eyesight during the day. How are we doing on power?”
Before the war, the world transitioned to electric vehicles, boasting batteries powerful enough for cross-country trips. With Silvertown’s limited electricity, it took a week for a car to get a full charge, so I could imagine how long they were planning to ambush Elysium with the helicopter.
“We’re doing good,” Eight answered. “Only used about a quarter of our charge, so this should be enough to get us there and back home.” He turned on the van’s headlights and pointed ahead. “I’m gonna take this turn, and from here, it’s a straight shot. We can find an abandoned house to sleep in for the night and get back on the road first thing in the morning.”
“Let’s do it.”
With that, the van swerved left, its tires bumping over the uneven pavement, the jarring jolts punctuated by the occasional thud of a pothole. Was this the wrong choice? Is this bumpy road a metaphor for where we were heading? The buildings grew sparser as we drove, the last few stores replaced by a landscape of snowy white hills. The tracking bean remained straight as the twilight deepened, painting the sky with hues of orange and purple, and a chill wind whispered through the barren trees as the sun’s last rays faded.
“I think we found our humble abode.” Straight ahead and perched atop a hill was a small, two-story house, its paint weathered by sun and time. Eight smoothly turned the wheel, guiding the van into the driveway with a gentle sigh of the engine’s quiet power, then switched the headlights off. “Let’s bring our equipment inside for the night, making sure not to make too much noise.”
I pulled the door’s lever, the rusty mechanism protesting with a screech, and stepped onto the frozen earth, hearing the satisfying crunch of frost beneath my boots. Eight ripped open the back doors of the van, tossing rifles, shotguns, and backpacks filled with supplies to each person as they piled out.
“You okay over there? I turned to see Jude struggling with four leather straps, each holding a heavy gun as he tried to secure them to his shoulders. I had to stop myself from laughing out loud. He looked like someone trying to carry too many grocery bags at one time. As soon as he gathered them, one loosened, fell off his shoulder, and went down his arm. I balanced the box on my knee and held out my arm. “Let me help.”
With rosy cheeks from the cold, Jude paused, contemplating giving me a weapon before skeptically slinging one of the heavy guns around my shoulder. One by one, the rest of the crew walked toward the house, their footsteps crunching on the gravel path. We gathered on the creaky front porch and, without breaking eye contact, Three quietly twisted the doorknob and disappeared inside.
“What’s going on?” I whispered.
“Surveillance,” Jude whispered back. “He’s making sure the house is empty. We not only have to worry about vampires and Dogs, but there may also be humans out here who have nothing to lose.”
I had assumed the remaining humans were all in Silvertown. I never thought they would be living off the lam, being extremely careful the Dogs don’t catch them, and scrounging for food. It didn’t seem like a good way to live. A half-life.
Three reappeared in the doorway, his gun crossed against his chest. “All clear, come in.”
The cold penetrated my core, and even though the house was empty, it felt warm. The air seemed thick with the weight of forgotten joys and sorrows, a reminder of the past lives that had once lived here. Old floorboards groaned under our weight, and flakes of snow littered the ground.
The house was small but had a warm, homey feel. We walked into a closet-sized room, with dirty shoes haphazardly thrownon the floor, and a tiny raincoat hanging on a hook. With a soft thud, I dropped the boxes onto the aged wooden table, disturbing a thick layer of dust that billowed into in a small brown cloud. The modest kitchen opened into a living room with worn couches and chairs arranged around a large, stone fireplace. A discolored rectangle where a television was once mounted sat above the hearth. To my right was a staircase that led to the second floor.
I walked through the house, pausing to study each faded photograph of a small family, their faces smiling up at me from the walls. They looked kind, their smiles warm and genuine, and they were dressed in clothes that screamed the nineties—plaid shirts and high-waisted jeans. The mother’s curly hair, a wild halo of dark brown, contrasted with the two young boys’ matching blond haircuts. The father’s grin was wide and proud as he displayed an enormous fish to the camera.
I smiled at the pictures, remembering a simpler time. My heart yearned for those days back. When my dad was happy, and my mother was still alive. When I was a little boy, the only thing I was worried about was the best place not to get caught during a game of hide-and-seek. I turned to the fireplace and asked, “Do you think we could start a fire?”
