At the End - a post-apocalyptic novel (The Road to Extinction, Book 1) (26 page)

“All right, well I’d appreciate it anyway,”
I said with a courteous smile.

She nodded as she walked towards the door.
“Yeah, you folks have a nice night. Try to get some nice long hours
in; I’m sure you need it after what you’ve been through,” she said,
as if she knew the details of our horrific journey.

I waved a hand as I closed the door.

“That was strange . . . the way she looked
at you when you told her to ask Burnhammer to stop by.”

“That’s certain. You think she’ll tell
Burnhammer?” I asked him.

“I don’t know why she wouldn’t,” he
responded, yawning.

Jane and Amanda were already rifling through
the bag of clothes, tossing aside the articles too big for them.
They began to argue over who got what, pinching each other all
over. Once all the disputes were settled, and the clothes
distributed, it didn’t take long for them to pass out on the couch,
watching
The Mansion On Mouse Hill
, a big animated movie
released two years ago.

Tortilla and I closed the door to the room I
had chosen. “Should we sleep together with them here?” I raised the
question.

He adjusted his spectacles. “Why not, we
slept on the bus together, and at the mall.”

“Yeah, but this is private, there’s a door
between us now. They might think . . .”

“If you don’t want to, I’m okay with that.
I’ll sleep in the other room.”

“I think it’s best until we really settle
in,” I told him.

“Settle in? So we’re staying here? What
about Darrel?”

“We have no idea where Jelly is . . . how do
we find something when we don’t know where to look?”

“We start at the JPL . . . we’ll find
something to fly.”

“The two of us? The two of us against
spaceships loaded with alions, how is that going to work out?” I
whispered. “We have to face reality, bromigo, we can’t find him on
our own. Maybe from here we can learn more and come up with a
better plan.”

“And we’re really not going to stay together
tonight?” he said, changing subjects.

“No. Not tonight.”

He nodded. “All right. Well, I’ll see you in
the morning then.” His face bore his disappointment and irritation.
He had really gotten used to sleeping with his body next to mine.
When he left, I turned off the light, and slipped under the covers.
The only light in the room came from an alarm clock, a soft red
glow projected on to the ceiling.

After a few hours of tossing and turning, I
got up and walked out into the living area. The TV flashed white,
then blue, then green, as the scenes changed from a new movie. I
crept into Tortilla’s room and climbed between the covers. I
wrapped an arm around him as the big spoon.

“Can’t sleep either?” he asked.

“Nope,” I replied. We rolled together so
that he was now the big spoon.

He gently squeezed me and whispered,
“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” I replied.

It was 72 degrees and cozy. I fell asleep
instantly.

I heard a knock. Then a second. Then a third.
Realizing that it wasn’t my dream, I slipped out of Tortilla’s arm,
and went out to the living area. Another knock came from the door.
When I opened it, Burnhammer stood outside, ready to knock
again.

She smiled at me. “I was beginning to think
they told me the wrong apartment and level.”

“I thought I was dreaming,” I told her.

“How are you adjusting?” She nodded at the
accommodations of the apartment, as it tried to emulate normal
life, but we both saw that it was false. We were untold meters
below the surface. It wasn’t a life anyone of us would have
chosen.

“It was nice to sleep without so much fear.
I had a few nightmares, but I had a few good dreams too.”

“There will be a time when all the good
dreams come back,” she said. “I came to tell you that General
Kramer and Senator Stowitz are going to speak in the general
auditorium in an hour. Apparently, they have some answers to the
invasion, and to what exactly is happening out there, which I’ll be
glad to learn. It’s open to everyone, even civvies. I sent you the
directions, you can check the PocketPad, and you might want to
bring it anyway, to record what they say. Good or bad, it will be
monumental.”

“In an hour?” I asked.

“In an hour,” she answered. “I’ll be sitting
with the Shadow Stalkers to the left when you walk in to the door I
mapped out.”

“All right, I’ll be there.” I waved goodbye
as she left. The twins were still asleep, the TV voices gave
comfort, and it didn’t look like they would be waking any time
soon. I shuffled into Tortilla’s room and nudged his shoulder. He
didn’t stir, so I shook him awake, then told him about the
speech.

The hot water of the shower was
revitalizing. I had forgotten its magical properties, its ability
to refresh the body, as if it made me a completely new person,
ready to take on new challenges. I still had to deal with old ones
though, but now I wanted to, as hope bloomed anew within my
mind.

In 45 minutes, we had showered, dressed, and
eaten. PocketPad in hand, we navigated the many levels of the
compound. Most of the floors were restricted to civilians; the
elevator simply would not open, flashing RESTRICTED on the digital
display above the doors. The higher we climbed, the more packed it
became, until floor three, where people rushed out in droves. The
auditorium spanned a few levels, and we walked up a flight of
stairs to level two, to the door pointed out by Corporal
Burnhammer. To the left, a dozen or so Shadow Stalkers sat, waiting
for the event to begin. The rest must have been on duty.

Burnhammer saved us two seats near the end
of the row. She nodded as we sat down in the red velvet padded
chairs. They were soft and contoured to our specific shapes. “Made
it in time.”

I nodded back at her. “There are a lot of
restricted levels,” I commented. “Yet we’re supposed to feel at
home . . .” My voice trailed off, as a man in a solid-black,
three-piece suit took to the stage 50 to 60 rows down below us.

“It’s the same way for the lot of us. Only
scientists and officers are granted access to most of the levels. A
real short end, if you ask me.” She hushed up when the man on stage
cleared his throat.

“Thank you . . . thank you all for coming.
This morning, Senator Stowitz, along with General Kramer will
explain what they know about our situation, and will try to answer
any questions as best they can. I kindly ask for no comments or
commotions during their initial speeches, and that you reserve any
words for the end. I also ask you to be polite and respectful when
forming your questions; this is a delicate hour, and no one wants
haste, anger, or frustration to cloud the room. Thank you. With
that said, I would like to introduce Senator Stowitz and General
Kramer.”

General Kramer stepped forward from behind a
black curtain to the left of the stage. His matte blue uniform bore
a single star on each shoulder. He forewent the standard beret,
displaying a proudly shaven sunburnt head, wrinkled and lumpy, and
as shiny as the new stars designating his authority.

Behind the general, Senator Stowitz, dressed
in a slim-fitting blue suit and red necktie, walked onto the stage
as applause sang a song of approval. He waved left and right and
left again.

As the noise died, General Kramer stepped up
to the podium centered on the stage and gave a salute. In seconds
all sounds stopped. Soldiers and civilians resisted their urges to
talk, and suppressed any heavy breathing. The auditorium grew dead
silent. “Life as we know it is at an end.” His voice rang in the
auditorium. “We are at war with an enemy never before seen on Earth
. . . with technology surpassing our own . . . and untold numbers
of soldiers, more than likely a great many beyond all the remaining
survivors. We enter into a new era, where we must marshal new
strength, new life, new determination, and a new unity, one the
likes our race has never known. We have had loved ones taken from
us . . . seen our homes marked by strange symbols . . . and had to
defend ourselves with the most basic of weapons.” A long pause came
over the general. “What I am going to say next is virtually
unprecedented in the United States of America.” He emphasized his
last words, giving them a quality that inspired the heart.

“What I mean to do today, is give every
willing and able man, woman, and child over the age of thirteen, a
weapon to defend themselves with, which many of you brave souls
have had to wield during the absence of your protectors, your
leaders and law officers, your military strength and scientific
vigilance, those that have made us feel safe since the birth of our
Great Nation. I ask for volunteers to step forward to fight for our
freedom . . . for our land . . . for our very survival.

“To those who will take up arms, a crash
training course will be given. To those who wish not to participate
in field engagement, we ask that you contribute in any way that you
can. We have need for teachers, custodians, miners, computer
technicians, engineers . . . I am afraid to say this, but if ever
it were truly appropriate, it is today . . . Uncle Sam wants you .
. . he wants all of you.

“I would not say these words unless our
cause was desperate, and believe me, I do not speak them without a
heavy heart, for I know what I am asking, especially of those many
who feel too young to be included, but without hands to hold our
guns, we are few and defenseless. To elaborate on our dire
situation, I will turn the floor over to Senator Stowitz, who will
give you the details that we know.” The general stepped back.

I looked around: mouths gaped, people
gasped—soldiers and civilians alike—and no one sat without
attentive ears, listening to take in every last word. Despite the
shock that had just hit the audience, no one spoke, waiting on the
edge of their seats.

Senator Stowitz stepped forward so that the
room had eyes only for him. “As far as we know, the entire western
and eastern seaboards have been devastated. Seattle is gone.
Portland is gone. San Francisco, Sacramento, San Diego, Los Angeles
. . . all decimated. Boston, Philadelphia, New York, New Jersey,
Dover, Norfolk, Charleston, Miami . . . the list goes on and on.
Washington has been leveled. As far as we know, the president and
her next fourteen successors have been taken. I have been told that
the Secretary of Energy, Leo Sterling, is being held down in a
complex like this one, outside of Fort Worth, Texas.

“As for the world outside our borders,
reports suggest that half of Mexico City has been destroyed.
Shanghai, Tokyo, Seoul, Delhi, São Paulo, Moscow, Hong Kong,
London, Cairo, Berlin—what I’m trying to say is that the world has
been devastated, but not beyond the point of recuperation. We can
rebuild. We can renew. We can bring ourselves out of the darkness,
but it is going to take every one of us, we cannot afford the laws
and ethics of the past to infiltrate and fog our future. What we
are asking our children to do is unsettling, atrocious, and
compromising of old standards. But if we do not ask our children to
join the military ranks, we very well may not have a future on this
Earth.

“They are our last line.”

Shouts from the crowd pierced the silence.
Voices spoke against the extremely young fighting in combat,
against training child soldiers.

An image of Amanda flashed in my mind: she
held her pistol, rapidly pulling the trigger, killing alions left
and right. I knew she could handle it. Killing an alion wasn’t the
same as killing a man, and Amanda had nearly done that. If she
could, the older ones could too.

Tortilla leaned into me. “Do you think this
is wise?”

“If it’s not wise, it’s necessary,” I
replied.

He looked astonished by my words.
“13-year-olds?”

“Amanda is eleven.”

By his reaction, I could tell he had
forgotten that fact. “Eleven,” he repeated to himself.

A few of the Shadow Stalkers made comments
to each other, accepting what needed to be done. Burnhammer leaned
over the armrest. “Are you going to volunteer?” she asked Tortilla
and me.

I looked at him to confirm my assumption.
“Of course,” I told her. “We have some vengeance to fulfill.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said. “You two
would make fine Shadow Stalkers.”

A man near the front yelled out: “Why are
they here? How did they get past our space defenses?” Others grew
bold once the first voice had put forth their thoughts. It was
something I wanted to know as well.

Stowitz raised a hand to silence the crowd.
“Please . . . please.” His words were lost in the clamor of growing
voices.

“SILENCE!” General Kramer screamed. The
crowd obeyed, beaten down by his powerful presence and commanding
tone.

The senator nodded at the general for his
support. “I know that is the prevailing, dominant question: how did
these aliens slip past our defenses . . . To all of you, it is a
mystery, and it shames me that I know the truth.

“I will tell you, but you must listen, and
judge me not until the very end of what I have to say.” He waited
until nods were requesting that he continue. “Two years ago,
Earth’s population was approaching 37 billion. Water supplies, even
with advances in seawater desalination, were still declining
considerably. Food supplies were on the brink of collapse.
Unemployment was peaking. Even the very space with which to live
was dramatically affected by soaring numbers. Society has been
living on the edge these last few years, and we, your government
officials, along with all the other government officials, decided a
drastic plan was called for.

“That same year, at the World Summit, we met
to discuss what actions could be taken. That’s when a scientist
from Japan played us a recording. It was a message sent to our
planet from space over fifty years ago, and ever since, the
Japanese had been working on translating it. They succeeded. The
translation called for aid, food, and water, anything we were
willing to spare. Their species was at war with another species,
and they couldn’t produce enough supplies to keep up the war
effort. A description of their diet was included in the
message.”