Defending Camp

2

Dan hadn’t slept all night. His eyes were blurred from lack of sleep and his body felt completely on edge. He was full of adrenaline. Full of that speedy sick feeling that never seemed to leave him.

He looked out the second story window onto the abandoned suburban street below. There was nothing. No movement.

The sun was rising slowly over the houses and overgrown lawns. His grandfather would be waking up right about now, as he always had ever since he’d been a young man, growing up on a farm. It was time to go check on him.

Dan picked the large kitchen knife up from where he’d rested it on the window sill, and walked wearily through the halls. They were lined with pictures of his family. His grandmother was there, countless neatly framed pictures that showed her progressing in age from a young woman to the grey-haired woman that Dan had grown up with.

She’d died two years ago, a devastating blow to his grandfather, who had never really recovered. His own health problems had seemed to snowball after that. His type two diabetes, once kept carefully in check through diet, had turned into an uncontrollable monster. There was no stopping it.

Especially not now.

The insulin had run out. There was no way to get more of it.

Dan’s grandfather’s days were numbered. And they both knew it.

Conspicuously absent from the wall of photos were pictures of Dan’s own parents. They’d had Dan young, and from what he had gathered over the years, it had probably been unexpected. They weren’t the types of people who made good parents. Or parents at all, for that matter. They’d split, leaving their own parents to raise Dan.

Dan didn’t even remember what they looked like.

He was a tough kid. He’d had to be. He’d endured countless taunts and jokes at his expense. That was just how he’d grown up. He’d been born small and grown up to be the shortest kid in his class by far.

A big part of his attitude had come from his grandfather, who’d not only always been there for him, but had told him that the only way he was going to get through life happy was if he took what he wanted from it, rather than waiting for someone to come around, feel sorry for him, and hand him things on a silver platter.

Dan had taken the advice to heart. While he’d never been the most brilliant student, he’d worked hard, always did everything on time. He’d gotten a job at the local hardware store, where he was the most dedicated employee by far. His coworkers were mostly in their late twenties, who, to quote his grandfather, “didn’t have a work ethic worth a damn.”

Dan had outshined them all.

He was only fourteen, going on fifteen. His birthday was in a few days. Not that there was any cause to celebrate. Not with the way things had turned out.

The power had gone out. Everyone had gone insane.

Dan and his grandfather had ridden out the worst of it. Or so it seemed.

The weeks had gone by and things had gotten quieter and quieter. Now no one moved in the streets. There was no sound of vehicles nearby. No sound of anything.

The food was running out. The cans that had been neatly stacked in the basement were disappearing one by one.

So much time had passed. Shouldn’t the government have gotten things under control by now? Shouldn’t the lights have come back on?

But there was no sign of that now.

Dan hadn’t held out much hope. Until, that is, he’d found his grandfather’s old shortwave radio in a dusty trunk in the attic. There hadn’t been any way to power it, until Dan remembered the small broken generator he’d taken home from the dumpster at the hardware store. It had just been sitting there in the garage for close to a year.

It’d been hard to do with his hands and his coordination. But if he’d learned anything from his grandfather and from working at the hardware store, it was he could do a lot of things that people said he couldn’t. So long as he had the time he needed.

So it’d taken him longer than it would have taken others, but he’d gotten the generator hooked up. He’d even gotten the radio to work. He’d run the generator in the garage with the door open, keeping one eye at all times on the backyard. The knife had never left his side.

It had taken days to find anyone on the radio at all. There’d been absolutely nothing, and Dan had figured that the rest of the country was simply dead, completely obliterated by some kind of intense weapon. A nuke, maybe. Or something worse that he couldn’t even imagine.

Finally, when it had seemed like all hope was lost, he’d made contact.

Dan was cautious at first. Sure, he was asking for help blindly. But he had his suspicions about anyone who responded.

Over time, though, talking to this man every night, Dan had grown to trust him. The conversations were always short, and the man never gave his name.

Dan was tired. Completely exhausted. The defense of the house had been up to him and him alone. He’d barely slept in the last weeks.

He’d been staring at the family photographs in the hallway, lost in thought, for who knew how long.

Now he was outside his grandfather’s door, pausing, listening. There wasn’t the sound of his usual heavy snoring.

“Grandpa?” said Dan.

No answer.

Dan didn’t knock. He opened the door. It took him a moment. His hands weren’t working that well.

His grandfather lay there, a look of peace on his face.

But he was dead.

Dan kept it together. He’d suspected this day would come.

He didn’t need to check for a pulse, but he did anyway.

His grandfather’s body was cool. He must have died hours ago, while Dan was staring out the window.

Dan stood there, next to his grandfather’s body, completely stunned. Sure, he was tough. But he was still just a kid. He hadn’t even graduated high school yet.

And now, for the first time in his life, he was completely alone.

Suddenly, there was a tremendous sound outside the street.

It had been so long since he’d heard anything, Dan almost didn’t react at all.

But the sound was only getting louder. It was the sound of engines. Not one, but many. Loud and rumbling.

Dan grabbed the kitchen knife that he had placed on his grandfather’s bedside table and dashed out of the room.