The Survivor Chronicles: Book 1, The Upheaval (24 page)

That event had been almost seventy years ago, but he’d never forgotten how terrified of everything he’d been afterwards, how hollow and broken as he labored to understand his new role in the world. He hadn’t thought he would ever feel like that again, but he felt that way now as he stared helplessly at the carnage surrounding them. Just like back in those days, the world as he had known it, had ceased to exist and would never be the same.

He was that terrified seven year old again, and he didn’t like it.

Mary Ellen was excruciatingly silent; her hands trembled on the wheel as she stared ahead. The brief and thankfully uneventful encounter with the man had rattled her. He knew her thoughts were on her daughter. He didn’t know the girl well, and in the beginning he had been certain they would find her, but now he couldn’t help but wonder how a twelve year old was going to survive when he wasn’t even certain the two of them would be able to.

He wondered if Mary Ellen would be as strong as his mother had been, or if she would crumple beneath the weight of life as Rita had done. He hoped she was able to pull through this. He liked her. Since Nellie's death his life had largely been walked alone, but he didn’t like the idea of taking this journey by himself. It was far too lonely of a journey for that.

“Are you going to be okay?” he inquired.

She was silent as her hands twisted. “I wonder if she’s still alive. I thought I would know if she had died. I thought that I’d feel it somehow, but now I’m not so certain.”

“You’d know,” he assured her.

She glanced at him. “Would I?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think your children are still alive?”

There was no way for him to know right now, and unless things became drastically different sometime soon, he didn’t think he would ever have the answer to her question. They were too far away, a vastly different and deadly world away. When he thought of his children an empty feeling settled in his stomach, one that made him think that his kids were no longer alive. That they had perished amongst the chaos.

It would break him if he focused on that hollowness.

He opened his mouth to tell her that yes he believed his children were out there, carrying on; doing the good he was so proud of them for. George was a doctor with two adorable children, Linda had become a veterinarian and had multiple children in her animals, and though Luke had been the more rebellious child, he’d recently met a woman whom he loved and was actually settling his unruly ways.

“No.”

The answer astounded him as much as her. Her hands jerked on the steering wheel, her head turned toward him so quickly that he thought she might have given herself whiplash. She gawked at him in disbelief. “I do not believe they are still alive. Please watch the road, Mary Ellen.”

She blinked at him before turning back to the windshield. “How… How are you able to carry on if you believe that?”

“Because there is no way to know for sure and because I must. Life doesn’t end simply because there are times when we would like it to. I’ve lost a lot of loved ones in my life, and there have been many times I’ve longed for the world to stop turning, but thankfully it’s continued stubbornly onward. Until now.”

A single tear slid down her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not definite. It could just be an old man missing his children that caused me to say that.”

She pondered his words for a little bit. “I don’t think Rochelle is dead.”

“I think you’re right,” he agreed with a reassuring smile.

“Is…is that smoke?”

He turned back to the windshield, leaning forward as he stared in disbelief at the billow of smoke floating over the trees. “Yes.”

Her foot eased on the gas pedal. “That’s coming from the area where Rochelle’s camp is.” “She’s alive, remember,” he told her, but that smoke was ominous.

They broke around a curve on the interstate. Flames shot high across the highway, a rolling inferno that encompassed the road. He could feel the heat of it licking against the windshield, and practically blistering the paint. Without a word, Mary Ellen turned the car around and slammed on the gas and raced away from the blaze. Al’s eyes fell nervously to the dashboard; sweat beaded his brow as he spotted the needle hovering precariously close to E.

Not now, he prayed silently. Not now.

If they ran out of gas now they would be dead. There was no way they could outmaneuver those flames on foot, they’d be encircled and crisp fried before they even made it a mile. Mary Ellen swung off the next exit, moving parallel to the inferno as she tried to find a way around the conflagration. Al couldn’t tear his eyes away from the gas gauge. His old ticker was beating so fast he was half worried it was going to stop.

She swerved around a large tree as they drove over the road at a treacherous speed. “Go through the field.”

She followed where he was pointing, aiming the car across the open expanse of grass. The old vehicle didn’t handle the ruts well. The shocks and struts creaked and clanged, Al bounced so high in his seat he thought he was going to smash his head off the roof. Mary Ellen jerked on the wheel, turning the car suddenly to the right. He didn’t know what she was aiming for until they soared over the top of a small hill and bounced onto a back road.

He nearly crashed off the dashboard as the car lurched awkwardly. Houses and barns whipped by in a blur. It seemed as if a tornado had swept through here, leveling some homes while leaving others strangely unscathed. They made another right. “That’s Rochelle’s camp.”

They were moving so fast that he almost missed the sign next to the road. Camp Howland, was hand painted onto the sign with an arrow pointing down the road. The only problem was that the arrow was pointing to an area engulfed in flames.

Mary Ellen eased the car to a stop; heat engulfed the interior of it as she climbed out. Al slid out also; he nervously observed the blaze, now a mere two hundred feet away and moving relentlessly closer. Mary Ellen’s glazed eyes came back toward him. “She’s not there anymore,” he answered her unspoken question for her. “She would have fled before the fire made it to the camp.”

She nodded mutely as she closed her slack mouth. “Where would she go though?”

“We’ll figure that out, but right now we have to get as far from here as possible.” Trees cracked and popped loudly, ash began to leave a fine coating on the roof of the car. “Would you like me to drive?”

She shook her head and climbed back into the vehicle. Al clicked his seatbelt on as she shifted into reverse and turned the car back to the field they had just vacated. Her driving was more cautious as she steered around the holes in the ground. “Stop here,” he told her as the gas light popped on.

He watched the fading inferno warily as he hopped out of the car and hurried to the sagging barn he’d instructed her to stop at. Grasping the rusted handle, he leaned his weight into the door to slide it open. The cobwebs in the corners billowed in the slight breeze the opening of the door had created. There was something almost soothing in the familiar scents of earth and mildew. The small tractor and riding mower inside offered him some hope as he gazed around the aging structure.

“What are you doing?” Mary Ellen inquired behind him.

“Thought there might be some gas in here.”

“Hopefully,” she muttered.

He moved gradually into the shadowed interior, searching for a promising red can as Mary Ellen moved in the other direction. He unscrewed the cap from the mower and tapped the side of the gas can as he peered inside, but he couldn't see how much gas it held. He was screwing the cap back on when he spotted two cans sitting behind the tractor.

He lunged for one of the cans, accidentally kicking it and causing it to tip over. His breath froze in his lungs, but thankfully none of the precious fuel spilled out. He grabbed the can, disappointed to find it empty as he lifted it up and set it back down. He didn’t have much optimism about the other one so he was pleasantly surprised when it resisted his quick jerk.

“Here,” he croaked out. Mary Ellen was at his side in a flash. He handed her the full can. “Fill the car with it."

She nodded and disappeared outside. He moved through the barn with more speed than he had originally. Searching the shelf, he grabbed a half full bottle of oil and a coil of tubing. He wiped his dirty hands and the first few inches of the tube on his pants. Returning to the mower he siphoned the remaining gas into the empty fuel can. He had just turned his attention to the tractor when Mary Ellen returned with the empty can.

He filled the other can and was able to get another quarter’s worth out. “Let’s go.”

She clasped hold of his hand as he held the can out to her. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

“Uh, me too,” he muttered uncomfortably.

“I mean it. I wouldn’t have made it this far, I would have completely crumpled and lost it like Rita if you hadn’t been here. When we find Rochelle it will be because of you. Thank you, Al.”

He offered her a halfhearted smile, flustered by her gratitude. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

She shrugged as she took the can from him. “I think we’re both going to find out the truth to that soon enough.”

She followed him from the barn and stood watchfully beside him as he poured the rest of the gas into the car. It would get them further than they’d gotten so far, but it wouldn’t last long. Mary Ellen drove across the field, slowing as they passed a mound of horse corpses that caused bile to heave up Al’s throat. It was one of the strangest things he’d ever seen and he couldn’t begin to contemplate what could have driven them to do such a thing.

“Horrible,” he muttered. He turned away and twisted to search through the backseat. There was so much trash that he half believed the owner had lived in the vehicle as he tossed aside discarded wrappers, cups, and clothes. “What a mess.”

“What are you looking for?” she asked.

“A map or something.”

“Good luck with that.”

He chuckled, but she was right, if there was anything useful in this car he wasn’t finding it. He turned back around, settling in again. “We’ll have to find a store, and maybe we can figure out where she may have gone to search for help.”

“You don’t think she would try and go home, do you?” she asked worriedly.

“I don’t know. For now, I think we’re better off trying to find a place around here she would have gone to. It makes more sense that she would seek out help before doing that. Do you know this area at all?”

“Not really. Rochelle’s been going to camp here for two years, I’ve been to the outlet mall in Wrentham a few times, and the football stadium twice. Rochelle has spent more time around the stadium though; she likes to hang out with her friends from the camp, go to the movies, and shop there.”

Al was silent as he pondered this. “We’ll get a map and find the closest police or fire station; I think the stadium could be a good bet. It would make sense to set up a shelter there with all the new stores and restaurants they’ve put in around it.”

“You’re right.”

They maneuvered onto another road. Al glanced in the rearview mirror but the blaze was fading behind them. It may not be as close, but it had enough fuel to keep it going for days, if not weeks. Maybe even forever, he thought with a shudder. Mary Ellen pulled into the parking lot of a convenience store and parked next to the door.

A man’s face appeared behind the glass door, his beady eyes were squinted as he stared at them. His belly hung over his belt, and sweat slid down his scruff covered cheeks. Wariness crept down Al’s spine, but he climbed out of the car and led the way to the door. The man continued to eye them suspiciously, but he unlocked the door and opened it for them.