Life After: Episode 1 (2 page)

“I’ve never had one.”

“How old are you?”

“Seven.”

“So you probably don’t remember too much of life
before.”

“No.”

The man wanted to ask the boy a hundred questions.
Where were his parents? How did he travel such a long distance in
such a dangerous region and live to tell about it? He also didn’t
want to talk about the ways of the world, the horrors that
surrounded the man’s unusually quiet sanctuary in the woods.
Instead of upsetting the boy with questions that bring up horribly
emotional answers and new information that would be equally
dreadful, the man cracked open his cola and took a sip.

“Try some,” the man said.

The boy opened his can and some of the fizz escaped
over the rim. Then he lifted the can to his lips and sipped the
warm soda. A smile spread across his face.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes. Are these your last cans?”

“No, I have thousands of cans down there.”

“Thousands?”

“Yeah. And a lot of food. Speaking of food, here’s a
nutrition bar.”

The boy reached his hand out to accept the food.

“Enjoy,” the man said.

They finished their colas and food bars. The boy
handed the man the empty can and watched him crush it beneath his
boot.

The man walked over to a cabinet, opened it, and
retrieved a revolver. “We need to go out there. Grab that
basket.”

“Is that loaded?” the boy asked.

“Yes.”

“Did you ever have to use it?”

“Unfortunately.”

“On a person?”

“Yes.”

The boy hung his head and he trembled lightly. “You
aren’t going to hurt me, are you?”

“Of course not,” the man said. “Why would you think I
would?”

“Every man I’ve seen that has a gun has used it on
someone. Even you have. You just said you have.”

“I’ve only used it in self defense,” the man
said.

“So have all the other men.”

“You have seen men shoot other men?”

“Other men and women and even children my age.”

“Where?”

“I was traveling through the woods and heard a train.
I thought I could hitch another ride, but the train was coming to a
stop. I hid in a bush and watched as men with guns unloaded the
cars. They made all these people line up against the woods. I saw
them gunned down. They missed one of the children, and he screamed
‘why’ and they answered him.”

“What did they say?”

“They said ‘to protect the Fatherland from vermin
like you’ and then they shot him in the head.”

The man shook his head. “Not all men are monsters
like that,” he said.

“But they claimed self defense. You claimed self
defense, too. How do I know you won’t shoot me?”

“You will have to trust me,” the man said. “I know
it’s difficult to do after all you’ve seen, but please trust that I
will not harm you. I have no reason to. Those men you saw are my
enemies just as much as they are yours.”

“Okay,” the boy said.

The man and the boy left the cabin in search of food
for the day. The traps were set and they picked whatever berries
they could find. Hours passed as they searched, but they came up
with very little food. On their way back, the sun began its descent
and the forest grew darker and darker. Then they heard a twig snap
behind them.

The man turned around and saw a figure standing
between two trees. He could see the scant light reflecting from the
insignia on the soldier’s uniform.

“I need to see your papers,” the soldier said.

The man looked at the boy, then back at the soldier.
He stayed silent, and felt for his gun.

The soldier walked towards them. “Papers. Now.”

The man knew that he had no such papers and from
everything he had read, knew that without them, he and the boy
would be apprehended. If taken into custody, their lives would be
measured by the time it took to reach the death camps.

The boy backed up slightly.

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot,” the soldier said.

“You would shoot this boy?”

“Defiance is not tolerated.”

“To the point of shooting an innocent boy?”

The soldier’s face grew red with anger. “Show me your
papers immediately.”

The man saw the same thing the boy did: the soldier
lifted his assault rifle ever so slightly. The boy turned and
ran.

The soldier lifted his rifle to take aim but the man
blocked his attempts to fire at the boy. A spray of bullets hit
several trees to the left of the boy as he continued to flee. The
man lifted his revolver and pointed it at the soldier’s head. No
hesitation was made before he pulled the trigger. The soldier fell
to the earth and all was silent again in the woods.

The boy stopped cold. He turned around and walked
back to where the man stood over the blood-soaked forest floor.
“You saved my life,” the boy said.

The man nodded. He knelt down next to the soldier’s
motionless body and retrieved the assault rifle. “We need to hide
this body. Come with me.”

They ran through the forest and when they were only
twenty yards from the cabin, they noticed several soldiers
investigating the structure.

The man pulled the boy down behind a large tree. He
whispered into the boy’s ear. “Don’t make a sound.”

They listened.

“Someone’s trying to trap something,” a voice
said.

“Here are fresh footprints,” another voice said.
“Maybe Roger killed them. That was his rifle, right?

“Maybe. I checked through the window over there but
didn’t see anyone, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t hiding
somewhere in there.”

The soldier closest to the door slammed the side of
his fist onto it. “Open up immediately!”

When no answer came, he slammed his fist again.

Still hidden behind the tree, the man spotted a
soldier with a large pack on his back. A hose ran from the pack to
a gun-like mechanism in his hands.

“Either it’s vacant or they aren’t coming out. Burn
it.”

The fire sprayed from the flamethrower and in no time
at all, the entire cabin was on fire. The man stood and watched as
everything he had left in the world was being reduced to ashes.
Black smoke poured from his home and he knew that there was no way
to stop its destruction without jeopardizing his own life. He
remained hidden in the woods with the boy. He turned to the boy and
saw tears streaming down his cheeks. The man contemplated using the
assault rifle on the men, but he had killed enough that day.

After the soldiers were long gone and the cabin was
smoldering, the man considered returning to attempt to open the
bomb shelter to salvage whatever they could. But he knew that they
could only carry so much as they searched for shelter.

“So where are we going to go?” the boy asked.

The man shook his head. “I’m not sure yet.”

The dark clouds above signaled the presence of
another storm, perhaps one that would last as long as the previous
one. The rain that was soon to come would drench the smoldering
ashes of the cabin and make survival possible, but the man knew
that survival was not guaranteed. Each day was a gift and he hoped
to see tomorrow.

* * *

Two soldiers walked along the broken road that ran
parallel to the forest. The rain that had concluded had soaked the
outer layer of their trench coats.

“They’ll kill us, Jeff,” the one soldier said. “Going
AWOL means being sent to the gas chambers.”

Gunshots rang out in the distance. Jeff gave his
comrade a worried look as they slowed their pace. “We need to get
off of the road then.”

The two men entered the forest, their boots sloshing
in the mud as they went.

“So what’s the plan, Clark?” Jeff asked.

Clark opened his trench coat and pulled a compass
from his coat pocket. “We need to head south. That’s where the
rebellion is strong. We need to join them.”

“They’ll take one look at our insignias and shoot us
in the head!”

“Then we need to pick up some civilian clothes,
though we’ll be at risk of being killed by a regime soldier who
thinks we are a part of the rebellion.”

“Well we are a part of it now,” Jeff said.

Clark looked to both sides for signs of any life in
the forest. It was not the wildlife that he was on the lookout for,
but other people.

More gunshots rung out. Clark cringed. Another one
down, he thought. Another innocent killed. The army he defected
from was still in the liquidation process and would stop only when
all of the rebellion was crushed. He could barely remember why the
war had erupted, but its aftermath was catastrophic and the United
States he once knew and loved was no more. The old supporters of
the democracy were long gone and in their place were the younger
supporters of American Imperialism. This was the system that Clark
wanted to fight against. Life under totalitarian rule was not worth
living, in his opinion.

Clark and Jeff stopped when they found themselves in
a clearing. Clark looked up and saw smoke billowing into the sky
from an unknown source within the woods. “Look at that,” he said.
“Let’s check it out.”

They walked in the direction of the smoke, veering
slightly off of their intended route.

“Over here,” Clark said softly.

Between the trees, they saw and man and a boy walking
away from a smoldering heap. The man carried a sack over his
shoulder and a revolver in his right hand.

Clark crouched down and Jeff followed his lead.
“Let’s not be too hasty,” Clark said. “Let’s just follow behind for
now. If they get bothered by one of the Imperialists, then we will
intervene.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know,” Clark said. “But it might be
beneficial to have others with us. Survival in numbers…”

Jeff shrugged. “I think we better just leave them be
and worry about ourselves.”

“Remember all the years of training before the
regime. It was all focused on team-building, not this every man for
themselves crap. We need to meet up with survivors and build up a
team if we want to ever make it.”

Jeff was silent for a moment. “Fine,” he said. “We’ll
just follow them for a while…only if they happen to head in the
direction we need to go.”

“Okay,” Clark said. “Let fate decide it then.”

The soldiers followed the man and boy, staying far
enough behind as to not to be seen nor heard. Looking at their
compass, they saw they were heading south-east, which was close
enough for Jeff to not protest following them. They trailed behind
them for miles until the sun set and the forest was dark.

No fire was lit that night. Neither party wanted
their position to be compromised.

Clark slept while Jeff stood guard for half of the
night and they switched roles several hours prior to dawn. Light
rain pelted their trench coats throughout the night and when the
sun rose again, they found themselves in puddles of water on the
forest floor.

Behind thorn bushes and other vegetation, they
waited. Peering through small openings in the brush, they watched
as the man and the boy continued on. Clark and Jeff followed
closely behind, like two phantoms.

* * *

“That was quite a storm last night, Peter,” the woman
said. “The thunder was so loud I thought bombs were going off.”

Peter finished cleaning his shotgun and looked up at
his wife. “At least our water reservoir is all filled up. And the
storms keep the soldiers far away from here at least. Now’s the
best time to forage and hunt. We need to find food.”

He rose from his wooden chair and walked past her to
the metal door of their mountain-side shelter. His boots clapped
against the stone floor of the small cave in which they lived since
the fallout. In anticipation of the end of the free world, when
most of his friends thought of him as a paranoid doomsdayer, he had
built a wall along the cave opening and cloaked it with moss and
other forms of vegetation. This structure, once a secret hobby of
his, was now his home.

At the door, he looked out the peephole and saw the
brilliance of the sunshine. Through the trees, he saw a man and a
boy walking, their clothes dark with moisture. His stomach growled
as he watched them.

“Sam,” Peter said. “There are people out there.”

“Soldiers?”

“No, a man with a child.”

“Step aside,” Sam said. She looked through the
peephole and licked her lips. “Well what are we waiting for,” Sam
asked. “Let’s let them in.”

* * *

Clark sat motionless in the woods, watching as the
man and the boy talked with the large man with the shotgun. “I
don’t know about this guy, Jeff. I think we should do
something.”

“And risk that guy blowing our brains out? I think we
should just forget about these two. We should focus on heading
south.”

Before Clark could respond, he saw the man and the
boy head towards the open door in which a pretty woman stood. Her
legs were long and slender, and she wore a vibrant smile on her
face.

“Well who do we have here?” Clark asked.

“See,” Jeff said. “They should be alright. Now let’s
get the hell out of here.”

“Let’s just wait a little bit,” Clark said, looking
at the boy. He thought about his own son, who had died several
years before the war in an accident. The boy that was now walking
through the cloaked door reminded Clark a lot of his son. “We need
to make sure they are okay.”

Clark and Jeff waited in the brush for what felt like
hours. “Enough is enough, Clark. Let’s go now.”

“Fair enough,” Clark said. “I guess they are
fine.”

Before they could stand up, they saw the cloaked door
open and the man and woman emerge. They left the door ajar as they
strode away from the shelter. The man held his shotgun, and the
woman had an ax by her side.