Defending Camp

10

Dan had lain on the floor for close to half an hour, hoping against hope that they hadn’t heard him.

In the end, nothing had happened. The next time he’d dared to peer out the window, they’d been gone.

Who were those men? What had they wanted?

Something was changing in the neighborhood.

Who had that man been that had attacked him seemingly for no reason in the garage?

Dan had to get out of there. He had to leave.

He couldn’t wait for Max.

He probably wasn’t coming, anyway. He was nothing but a disembodied voice on the radio.

Dan had to remember that. He needed to remember that he couldn’t rely on others. He needed to look out for himself.

He knew that now. That he was the only one who could keep himself alive. He alone was responsible.

His grandfather was dead. Not that he’d been well enough to help Dan anyway.

The emotion of his grandfather’s death had been stifled by the events of the day, by the panic that Dan had felt.

Well, he’d need to keep it stifled for a while longer. There was no time for grief. Not now.

Dan needed to be purely practical.

But still the thought of leaving his grandfather’s body there in the house, probably to rot, was not appealing in the least bit. He’d been planning to bury him. That would never happen.

Dan bit his lower lip in frustration, squeezing his fists hard, his nails digging into his palms, leaving marks.

He’d had a getaway bag packed for some time now. Dan grabbed it from where it’d been resting on the kitchen floor. It was full of everything he’d thought would be useful. Unfortunately, aside from food, there hadn’t been a lot to choose from.

He’d packed all the food he thought he could carry. Most of it was canned, and it weighed a lot. The good thing was that the canned foods were heavy on water, meaning he could get his daily water requirements that way. He had two large soda bottles filled with water, one bottle of soda, and the couple cans of tuna fish that were still left in the pantry.

He had the kitchen knife with him, and he’d packed two smaller kitchen knives, a fork and a spoon.

For medical supplies, he didn’t have much. Just a couple bandages, some aspirin, some baking soda. The baking soda was an old trick his grandmother had taught him. She’d always told him it’d help with nearly everything from an upset stomach to headaches. Dan wasn’t so sure that it really helped with anything, and he’d packed it more as a reminder of his grandmother than anything else.

Originally, he’d packed some photographs of his family. But he’d taken these out, telling himself he couldn’t spare the weight. And he’d been right.

When he went to shoulder the pack now, he realized it was still far too heavy for him. When he’d packed it two weeks ago, he hadn’t been as exhausted as he was now. He hadn’t gone days without sleeping, and he hadn’t just been attacked and nearly killed.

Quickly, almost in a frenzy, he zipped open the large schoolbag and started tossing items onto the kitchen floor.

He wasn’t going to get very far if he couldn’t walk, let alone run, because he was weighed down by his backpack.

The baking soda was the first to go. Then some of the canned soups. He didn’t bother looking at them, or deciding which ones he liked more than the others. It was purely a matter of weight.

With finality, he zipped up the bag again, shouldered it, and grabbed the large kitchen knife.

Dan had a tear in his eye when he made the decision not to go upstairs to say goodbye to his grandfather. His grandfather would want Dan to live, to get out of there as fast as possible. At least, that was what Dan told himself. It made it easier.

He walked out the front door for what he knew would be the last time.

Clouds obscured the moon, rolling past swiftly. The street seemed once again dark. It was that darkness that Dan had never experienced before, with the absence of the streetlights and light pollution creating a type of night that not many had lived through.

Dan kept in the shadows of the sidewalk, where the trees were tall. The leaves from the fall had never been raked up, and they drifted here and there, propelled by the gusts of wind.

The trees themselves looked skeletonized, like giant ominous stick figures towering over everything.

His neighbor’s body was lying there, across the street, unmoved since earlier.

Dan walked with a sort of breathlessness. He was on edge, anxious, and afraid. He was unprepared and he knew it.

He didn’t like the idea of walking. He felt completely out in the open, completely exposed, despite the cover of the darkness. Soon the clouds might zoom on past, heading somewhere else, leaving the moon exposed again, able to illuminate Dan and the rest of the street with an eerie accuracy.

His Grandfather had sold the car not long before the EMP. He hadn’t been able to drive, and he’d figured it was the last car he’d ever have. Dan took the bus to school, and usually got a ride to the hardware store, or walked when he couldn’t.

Not that Dan knew how to drive, but he figured he’d probably be able to figure it out. A car would have been good. Maybe he’d get lucky and find some neighbor’s car abandoned, the keys nearby in an easily-noticeable hiding place, like over the tire or under the chassis in one of those little magnetic boxes.

But if he found a car, found the key, and figured out how to drive, what would he do if he were driving down the road and ran into the that convoy of military vehicles?

He’d probably wind up dead. Dan didn’t hold any illusions that being a kid would protect him. Those men had been willing to shoot his neighbor dead like that. There wouldn’t have any reservations about slaughtering whoever got in their way.

And he’d be a bigger target with a car.

Then again, he did have a road map packed away. Maybe he could find a route that was off the beaten path.

Towards the end of the road, there was a curve. Dan followed it around, feeling even more on edge the further he got from the house.

There was a red house situated on the bend that Dan knew well. It was the home of one of the boys in his grade who’d never missed an opportunity to torment Dan for his stature or anything else he could think of.

The red house had a large lawn, the largest in the neighborhood, because of the way the front yard curved around it.

The front door was wide open. It opened to the outside, without any screen or storm door. The front door was blowing in the wind, which kept knocking it earlier against the side of the house, the lower portion made of brick.

Dan peered through the darkness. There was something on the lawn. As he got closer, it came into view.

It was a body. A man. Mr. Davies, the father of Tommy, Dan’s school bully. He was lying on his back in the front yard, his stomach pieced with bullets. Another victim of the unknown military vehicles, figured Dan.

Dan may not have liked Tommy, the son. But he felt like he had a duty. Was Tommy still there? He’d figured his family had left long ago, off to some unknown destination right after the EMP, when it had seemed like everyone in the neighborhood was fleeing.

Dan gripped his knife tighter as he approached the house. He stood at the threshold, with the door banging against the house next to him, gazing into the yawning darkness.

He had no flashlight. Sure, he’d packed candles, but they weren’t going to be any good in this wind unless he went in and closed the door behind him. And he had no intention of doing that.

“Tommy?” he yelled.

He didn’t know if he was hoping for an answer or not.

Sure, he’d hated Tommy with all his guts. But that was before the EMP. He didn’t want him to be dead.

“Anyone there?”

No answer.

If someone had been there, the door would have been closed.

Should he go in and look for supplies?

No.

He couldn’t carry anything more than what he had. There’d be other houses along the way. When he ran out of food, hopefully he’d be able to find some.

Dan stepped away from the open door, walked past the body of his neighbor, and continued on his way.

He roughly knew the way. He had a road map with him. At some point he’d have to consult it.

The darkness seemed to surround him as he got farther and farther from the home he’d lived in all his life. The reality of the situation started to sink in more than it had so far. It seemed as if everyone he knew was probably dead. He’d narrowly missed being killed himself only hours earlier.

And there was no one to help him.