The Survivors: Book One (13 page)

1

The End of the world has given us a harsh, merciless existence, where nature tries hard to push mankind to the very brink of extinction. Everything is against us, between us...untold miles of lawless, apocalyptic roads wait for our feet, and the Future, cold and dark, offers little comfort. Without CHANGE, there will be no peace…only Survivors. And I am determined to be one of them.

1/1/2013

It’s been almost two weeks since the War, and I still can’t believe my luck. Joe, a senior Greenpeace member, showed up late and heard me trying to dig my way out. There were no other survivors of the secret meeting. Why was I spared? I deserve to still be under that house. My dreams always start with me in that basement, not sure if I’ll live. Maybe I’ll find answers there.

We're holed up in a barn with a tin roof, waiting out the storms, and I wonder if my companion hears any of what I dream about. It doesn’t matter. Not much does now except making it to Little Rock. My grief for America is almost unbearable.

Adrian sighed, looking away from the notebook long enough to take a swig from his canteen. The first depressing weeks had been strange, full of hard days of backbreaking labor, and eerie nights of broken dreams where he was in charge of a small group of survivors - fighting with everything he had to keep them alive and free. Instead of fading, as his concussion and ribs healed, the images had gotten stronger, clearer.

There were glimpses of a bright future, and horrible Ground Zeroes, and he had found himself thinking about it almost constantly when he was awake. He'd quickly understood how to do it, how to set up the foundation for a new democracy - sensing even then that the people he’d gather would have nothing but their lives - and the guilt of it, of knowing he might have prevented it all, would hold him after the twenty hour days began to wear him down.

He’d been right, Adrian thought, sending his eyes back to the page. He was well into one of those now, the third this week.

1/4/2013

We hit Nellis today, and there’s nothing left. I think maybe I’m sick. I’m seeing things Joe doesn’t, hearing voices. I see odd colors in new places, stare at eyes that glow like neon bulbs from dark and empty windows. There are words in the trees and movies in the gritty clouds, puddles with reflections… I may be having a breakdown. It’s barely a scratch on what I deserve.

1/5/2013

It’s getting worse. The people we’re seeing, the awful, pain-filled refugees still trying to find each other, haunt me; stalk me.

They fall to their knees at my feet, beg me with tears and outstretched hands to help, to save them, and then I blink, and see they never even looked at us! What the hell is happening to me? A side effect of one of the experiments? Am I in a coma somewhere and this is all one of my horrid nightmares? How I wish that were true. I’d gladly trade my life for America’s.

I share the blame for all the pain and death. I should have revealed who I was, back when there might have been a chance to stop it all, but like those who betrayed us, I didn’t want anyone to know the truth either. The need to atone is consuming, overwhelming, and I can’t make enough progress each day to be satisfied. The worry is endless.

1/7/2013

The dreams are slowly convincing me I’m not crazy, demanding I take action. I remember each scene in such vivid detail when I wake! Even in the clear light of day, they look good to me.

I owe the whole world a huge debt, but to my country, I owe everything that I am…even the one waiting for me in Arkansas. I have to at least try.

I’ve decided to start in the morning, when we reach Las Vegas. That infamous skyline is dark now, but in the city that never sleeps, there are people. I know. I can almost feel them.

Adrian crushed out his smoke, thinking he’d been right and wrong on that one. He’d found refugees who were grateful for his help, but he had also found Tonya, who killed Joe.

Adrian turned the page. Too bad he couldn’t prove it. The topless dancer had immediately pounced on who she thought was in charge, while Adrian was just starting to realize the job belonged to him. By the time she’d understood the goodhearted, alcoholic, firefighter was only interested in drinking, screwing, and forgetting, she was openly sleeping in his bed and fetching his bottles.

Adrian had wanted to kick her out for helping the kind man become a drunk, but even one life lost on his watch was more than he could allow. So he had thrown himself into caring for his small, shell-shocked herd, hoping Joe would eventually see her for the scheming bitch she was.

They had set out for a base in Montana, his words of the secret bunker there easy to believe, though he had no intentions of staying with them - not until he made it west. His heart was overjoyed to finally have his purpose in life, the reason he’d been spared. He was a Shepherd. That was why he’d been allowed to live. It was his duty to help rebuild their world.

1/11/2013

Other than myself, there are only 30 people here so far.

Most of them are elderly men and I doubt half will survive; their injuries are just so bad I can’t help them in anyway other than providing drugs to dull the pain, and a comforting hand to hold while they die. Each death kills something inside me.

I wonder if I’ve sacrificed family for these dead strangers, but I can’t just walk away. They need me too, and other than a little ‘listening’, I’ll put it out of my head and go on. I haven’t abandoned him. I’m just very late.

1/12/2013

We sleep in vans and buses, not enough workers for tents yet, but I have an idea for two common room set ups. When the new man, Doug, recovers, that’ll be his first chore. Doug’s important to me, I know it. I just don’t know how yet. I found him by accident or maybe by Fate leading me?

He was trapped under a collapsed concrete bridge in a national forest near the Nevada state line. Small packs of coyotes were keeping him from escaping the crushed car and shallow water, and it’s amazing he survived so long despite his huge size. Retired Army, he’s one of my kind, just a little too old for what I need the most.

Doug said a tremor took out the bridge while he was crossing it, and that made me decide to start keeping track of those things too. If the temperatures continue to drop - and this is wintertime, so they should - then we won’t make it to Montana before we have to hole up somewhere. That thought keeps me awake at night, even when the guilt isn’t burning into me. Where?

1/13/2013

Damn, I’m tired. These people are depending on me for everything and I’m encouraging it - showing them I can handle the weight - but between standing guard at night on third shift, rescue and supply runs during the day, and camp setups and breakdowns, I’m beat. I have to get the help, the magic my dreams hinted of last night. Will Fate send me what I need?

1/15/2013

Things are becoming so much clearer! My help is out there somewhere, and I even know what they’ll look like now, but where are they? If we’re all descended from the same bloodline, doesn’t that mean they can hear my calls for help?

We’ve spent the last two days in a mall, snowed in. The black flakes fell for almost twenty-four hours and left over five feet of nasty slush. I kept everyone inside until it was mostly melted. It felt evil, like maybe we would have been sickened by contact, and I really do wonder if Mother Nature might be helping mankind’s extinction along intentionally. It’s a crazy thought, but in this new hell, anything is possible.

1/20/2013

We heard foreign voices on an American military channel yesterday, and I moved the camp - ordered it. No one argued, and that makes it official for me. I’m the Boss. I know it’s because they were scared, the voices were calling for everyone to surrender to the Mexican Draft, but for me, it’s real now.

I’m in charge of 48 terrified, hurting refugees, and I’ve started wearing a radio system so that I can listen for trouble from that side too. Gangs are attacking towns in New Mexico and Colorado, the stories are awful, and many of my "sheep" are now survivors of two Wars. The threat of the Guerillas is a serious one that will require a harsh plan, and a lot of defensive work that these people will have to learn and help with.

They’ve had an easy ride so far, but soon that will have to change. The first mandatory meeting is coming up. Guess I’ll find out then if I’ve done enough for them to get their support and cooperation.

1/25/2013

They’ve agreed to all the things I wanted. We even have a name now:
Safe Haven.

We set up the two big tents along with a center bonfire, in a big metal pool, and celebrated by barbecuing the chickens Doug found on a nearby farm. Tomorrow, I’ll show them the Mess truck a few of us quietly put together. It has it all, including a hot water heater, and since we have a cafeteria cook now, Hilda, we’ll have regular meals soon.

We also have more heaters and supplies on the way. Kyle and Neil found an undamaged sports store. I’m damn glad to have those two. They’ve both volunteered for the private and the public police force I’m starting, and I’ve decided to split them up, have them each lead their own team. Kyle started first and I’m encouraged, feel okay about sometimes leaving the camp in his hands on third shift.

These men will be trained not as everyday guards or even Marines, but as soldiers in
My
army. There will be no names that can separate them once I’ve finished.

1/26/2013

My leadership is official, and I can see some of them waiting for me to become like the politicians of the past, but I won’t use my authority unless I have to. I plan to keep giving them back some of what was stolen, and slowly, things will come together. I see a better time of it in the future, and look forward to the help my dreams keep hinting of. Five or six more like me will take us to better places…like Arkansas.

Adrian paused again, this time to listen to the wind, not sure if... he shook his head at the obvious shadow outside his flap. That would be Dale; he could tell by the way the hips wore a tool belt with no tools. The rookie was trying to pass his first level test and didn’t know he had already failed. The police force was very new. This group of nine men was only the second to try, and it wasn’t promising, but they were moving fast out of need.

Adrian frowned. It was a necessity that had been driven home by Tonya. She and Joe had been a couple, but the drunken man who was considered his unofficial second in command, had fallen further into hell the farther they’d traveled. To his credit, the drunk had stubbornly ignored the spiteful redhead when she encouraged him to fight for the leadership she and everyone else saw Adrian earning, but it hadn't mattered.

“Too late by then,” Adrian sighed.

He was in charge and Tonya hated it, mainly because he wouldn't give her the time of day, let alone any power. She had turned a hero into a drunkard, slept around on Joe in her quest for power, and tried to manipulate all of them, not understanding the loyalty she saw had to be earned, not stolen
.

While Adrian had been busy with keeping them all alive, she had been plotting. Joe wasn’t going to get her what she wanted, and instead of breaking it off with him and moving on, she’d convinced one of her lovers to stage a fight over her while Adrian was out of camp on a supply run. Her motive? Adrian still wasn’t sure. Had she really thought the camp would just give Joe’s place to her lover? Adrian’s mind flashed back to the death, and his grip on the notebook tightened
.

He knew by the unlit bonfire that something was wrong; how many had he lost?

Adrian followed the loud, male voice to the largest tent, sharp eyes seeing blood splatters and other signs of a fight. When he stepped inside the dim canvas, his arrival was noticed instantly.

“There’s The Man!” Caleb, a greasy, blood-streaked biker, growled. He waved his dirty knife toward the corner, where a reddish heap lay in the shadows. “One down, one to go!”

Adrian’s heart clenched with sorrow for arriving too late to save the man who had saved him. Then the anger, the rage, was flooding every space of his being. His people, his once-again terrified and cowering sheep, were all huddled in the back of the tent, watching with anxious, fearful eyes. Not about to challenge the lone killer, but clearly expecting him to. Fury like he’d never known filled Adrian. How dare someone try to steal his flock!

He drew his 9mm so fast none of them knew it was coming.

Bang!

The biker fell to the floor a second later.

“You have been found guilty and I sentence you to death!” Adrian roared over Caleb's moans. He grabbed the murderer by his jacket and brutally dragged him out of the tent, leaving a wide, bloody smear in the dirt and grass.

He roughly handcuffed the screaming man to the door of Joe’s lime green convertible and headed for a nearby supply truck, tossing the keys into the dirt just out of the killer’s reach.

“You can set him free when he’s dead,” Adrian snapped as he stepped into the truck. His mind raced furiously, knowing Tonya had done this - Caleb was one of her lovers, he’d seen them himself. She would pay!