Getting Home

2

James was exhausted. He stood there, leaning forward, hands on his knees. He gazed out at the bodies on the ground. They were in every pose imaginable. But most were lying face down in the dirt. There was blood on the ground and on the corpses.

“Come on, James,” said his mother, speaking snappily. “We’ve got work to do.”

James nodded.

They were trying to clear away the bodies from the campground.

There wasn’t any hope in burying them. It’d be far too much work. Someone had suggested burning them on a massive funeral pyre, but of course that might attract unwanted attention. Their little daily campfire was risky enough. They didn’t need to create a huge beacon that announced their presence.

The bodies might attract animals, but it still seemed like the best option. It wasn’t like there were wolves in this part of the country.

Georgia reasoned that with the human population dropping dramatically, the animal populations would start to surge. But that wouldn’t happen overnight. Hopefully it’d be a happy problem for the human survivors, meaning more food for them, rather than more danger.

“Help me with this one here,” said Georgia, pointing to a heavyset male corpse. His long hair was stained and matted with blood. He lay on his back. Bullets had opened up his chest. There were scratches all over his bare arms that his torn-up flannel shirt revealed. It seemed as if many of his injuries had been sustained before he came to the camp.

“You sure you can handle this, Mom?” said James. “I know you’re feeling better, but shouldn’t you take it easy? Especially with your back?”

“I’m fine,” said Georgia as she crouched down and grabbed the corpse’s ankles forcefully. “You take that end.”

James knew better than to argue with his mother about her physical capabilities. And it did seem as if she’d improved dramatically. She almost seemed tougher than before, if that was even possible.

His hands gripping the corpse’s filthy armpits, James groaned as he lifted him up on his mother’s count of three.

“Faster than dragging him,” muttered Georgia as they walked the corpse away from the campsite.

Nearby, John and Cynthia were doing the same thing. Sadie was the only who wasn’t considered strong enough to carry the corpses. But Georgia wouldn’t give her a free pass, despite having been carried away. Instead, Georgia set Sadie to work gathering anything useful she could find on the corpses.

“Right here’s fine,” said Georgia, abruptly letting go of the corpse, leaving James to carry all the weight.

He dropped it too, his burning, exhausted muscles feeling immediate release as the corpse fell heavily to the ground. There were at least ten other corpses nearby, hidden from the camp’s view by only a couple trees. There were still five or so corpses near the camp that needed to be dragged away.

“Can’t we get something to eat before we do the rest of them?” said James.

“OK,” said Georgia. “Let everyone know. But we’ve got to make it quick. I want to get the rest of these corpses out of here before nightfall.”

James made his way slowly back to the tent. He was practically dragging his feet with exhaustion. His idea was to get some of the venison out and lay it out for everyone. That way they wouldn’t have to go to the trouble of sorting through it themselves.

But what James found, he wasn’t expecting at all.

Part of the tent had been sliced open, leaving a huge gaping tear in one of the sides.

James drew his handgun. He didn’t wait or call for help. He wanted to do this himself.

It wasn’t likely there was someone inside, but he lead with his handgun, just to make sure.

It was empty. There was no one there.

But someone, or someones, had been there.

Everything in the tent had been kept as neatly as possible. Georgia and Max wouldn’t have had it any other way.

But now, everything lay scattered about, as if a small tornado had passed through the tent and thrown everything every which way.

Of course, it hadn’t been a tornado. It’d been the mob. Some of them must have run through the tent while James and everyone else had been fighting for their lives.

Clothes lay scattered on the ground, looking like they’d been trampled.

Replacing his gun in its holster, James bent down and started sorting through the possessions, looking for the food.

The venison they’d dried was completely gone. As were the cans of food from the pot farmers.

James’s heart started pounding faster.

They’d survived the rush of the mob. But how long would they last if all their food was gone?

There was more food in the van.

James hurried off to check it.

He glanced over his shoulder as he left the tent. He didn’t want to tell anyone else yet. There wasn’t any point in worrying them unnecessarily. Everyone had already been through so much.

His sister, Sadie, was sitting on the ground, looking beyond exhausted. There were no tears on her face, but it looked like she’d been crying. Her hair was dirty and tangled, and James remembered how much attention she’d paid to it before the EMP, before all this had started.

John and Cynthia were bickering, anger on their faces, as they argued over the best way to move one of the corpses. They stood on opposite ends of the corpse, John at the head and Cynthia had the feet.

Georgia hadn’t stopped to rest. Instead, she was regathering the woodpile for the fire.

The back doors to the van were hanging wide open.

James’ first impression wasn’t good.

Gear spilled out of the back of the van. Shirts and jackets lay trampled on the ground.

The food was gone. Completely.

The mob had been so crazed that James doubted they were capable of systematically searching through the group’s possession and finding the food.

It hadn’t been one of the crazed desperate people. It’d been someone with more of their faculties intact.

Someone who’d used the mob’s attack as an opportunity to get what they’d wanted. And that meant that they’d been there, waiting and watching. For who knew how long.

They might still be out there. Whoever they were.

James gave up searching. He sat on the edge of the van’s floor, his legs hanging out the back door.

It wasn’t all their food. They’d kept some of the canned food in pits dug into the earth, and they’d kept some of the venison hanging from a tree.

But the majority of their food was gone.

Sure, they could hunt more deer. Provided the mob hadn’t scared them all off. Provided someone else hadn’t hunted them all. They hadn’t seen a deer for some days now, which was unusual, considering they were in the state hunting grounds, known for their deer populations.

The loss of the canned goods, which were meant to be used as emergency food, was a huge loss.

James’ mind was panicking, and he couldn’t get himself to calm down. His thoughts were racing.

He didn’t want to tell his mother what had happened. He didn’t want the others to know, even though he knew he had to tell them. They’d all been through so much. This was just another blow, one that he, even though it was irrational, wanted to spare the others from.

“Let’s get a move on it, James!” called out Georgia, suddenly looking in his direction and seeing him just sitting there.

James knew it was time. He had to tell her. He took a deep breath and stood up.

Suddenly, a realization hit him.

There’d been a lot of food that’d been taken.

Too much for a single person.

So there were others out there. A group of them, and they were now well-fed.

The mob’s attack might not have been the worst of it.