Aftermath

Chapter 7

Thesoft embrace of consciousness greeted me the next day, Sam'scomforting presence a reassuring constant. Uncertain of the hour, Icast my gaze towards the sun, its feeble glow struggling to piercethrough the now orange-tinged atmosphere that surrounded us.

Summoning the will to rise, I gingerly attempted tostand. Success came at a cost – a pronounced limp in my left legand a sizable gash on my arm, souvenirs from the trials of theprevious day, likely inflicted by a jagged rock or shard of glass."Anne, come here," Sara beckoned, producing bandages andmedication from her bag. "This should help with your wounds.Have Sam assist you with applying them. I don't understand how Ialways end up with the worst injuries, but thankfully, I have peoplewho care for me. They couldn't bear to see me suffer."

I handed Sam the antibiotic and bandages,trusting his steady hands to tend to my wounds. With care, he appliedthe antibiotic to my arms, wrapping the bandages so tightly that myelbows protested any attempt to bend. "Anne, I want you to becareful from now on. You're brave, but sometimes it's crucial tostand down when needed," Sam advised, his concern etched in thelines of his face. I nodded in acknowledgment, appreciating thewisdom in his words.

Amidst the makeshift medical care, my motherinterjected with a sense of urgency, "We need to get moving. Wecan't survive out here for much longer." Sara voiced heragreement, and as a collective unit, we embarked on our journey, thedestination uncertain. With no clear path ahead, we chose adirection, placing our hopes in the fickle hands of chance. Each stepechoed with a blend of determination and trepidation, the landscapeunfolding before us as an unwritten chapter in the saga of oursurvival.

Our weary feet carried us for what felt like aneternity before the pangs of hunger stirred within us. On thehorizon, a distant light beckoned—an uncertain promise of refuge, apotential respite from the desolate landscape. As my eyes fixated onthe glimmer, I couldn't shake the nagging worry that it might lead usto another perilous encounter, be it with mutated bears or theominous hum of military choppers.

"Guys, look," I uttered, pointing towardsthe silhouette of a building, a potential sanctuary in the vastnessof the rocky, crumbled plains that now defined Arlington, Virginia.The childhood dreams I once harbored about visiting this place nowseemed like haunting echoes, replaced by the harsh reality of apost-apocalyptic nightmare.

Creating a trail of footprints on the dustystreets, we pressed forward until we reached the small building. Toour astonishment, there were people inside. "Mom! There'speople!" I exclaimed, a surge of hope in my voice. The otherscaught on quickly, and we hastened our approach. The occupants of theshelter building noticed our arrival, and amidst the remnants of ahill of rubble, shouts of recognition echoed. "Anne!" Derekcalled out. "Derek!" Sam reciprocated, making his way downthe hill. "You guys look awful!" Derek remarked, hisconcern palpable. "Come, follow me."

Without hesitation, we trailed behind Derek intothe building, passing about 15 other citizens along the way. Derektook a moment to express his gratitude, revealing how he and hisneighborhood were seemingly safe after the bomb until the militaryintervened, practically kidnapping them. "You shouldn't bethanking me. They all helped tremendously," I insisted. Derek'ssmile conveyed appreciation as he shared a glimpse of his harrowingexperience.

Gazing out of the window, I noticed the peopleoutside had access to a water well that seemed untouched byradiation. Derek handed each of us fruits, explaining, "I tookthese from the Monument before you told us to exit through the gates.Thought they might come in handy. Took some seeds as well. We don'thave any place to plant them yet because this place doesn't have anyactive sunlight. All we get over here is dead sunlight through theirradiated air. The closest place I know of that has a suitable placefor living is Toronto. Nobody is there anymore though. The bombspractically wiped out the entire world. From what I know, this iswhat's left of the human race." Derek's revelation emphasizedthe swift descent of the world into chaos, leaving us grappling withthe harsh reality of our existence.

"We need to get to Toronto then," Saraexclaimed, her voice laden with determination. "It's too far!There's no way we can get there on foot," my mother proclaimed,her pragmatism tempered by the starkness of our predicament. Derek,munching on an apple, suggested an alternative: a small town roughly15 miles away, possibly harboring vehicles. However, he cautioned, "Iwould doubt they have any fuel, though." I turned my gaze toSam.

"We go there tomorrow. We need to focus ongetting our health back up. Most of us are in pretty bad shape fromthe explosion at D.C.," I urged, my anxiety palpable in mywords. The decision to postpone our journey underscored the immediacyof our need for recovery, setting the stage for the uncertaintiesthat awaited us in the days to come.

The following dayunfolded, and a tentative light cast its glow upon our motley groupwithin the shelter. As we emerged from the building, the sun revealeda bleak landscape marked by the remnants of a once-thriving city nowreduced to a desolate shell. The group of civilians gathered outsideeyed us with a mix of curiosity and weariness, their faces etchedwith the harsh lines of survival in this post-apocalyptic world.

"G'morning," Iventured, offering a weary smile to those around us. The responseswere a collection of nods and guarded smiles, a silent acknowledgmentof the shared struggle etched on each face. It was a congregation ofsurvivors, each with their tale of resilience against the unforgivingodds that had befallen us all. As we stepped into the midst of thismakeshift community, I couldn't help but marvel at the strengthforged through adversity, a collective testament to the humanspirit's indomitable will to endure.

Among the group, wenoticed a well that seemed to offer a lifeline—untouched, pristinewater that held the promise of replenishing our parched bodies."Look, water," Sam exclaimed, a note of relief in hisvoice. The anticipation of a drink brought a renewed sense of vigor,and we eagerly gathered around the well. Derek, our unexpected allyin this harrowing journey, guided us in the delicate process ofdrawing water. "Just be careful with it. We don't have much, andwe all need to make it last," he cautioned.

Cupping our hands todrink, the cool water revitalized our weary bodies, offering amomentary reprieve from the hardships we had faced. "This is agodsend," Mom remarked, wiping her mouth with the back of herhand. As we quenched our thirst, the camaraderie with the othersurvivors deepened. "It's good to see some friendly faces. We'reall in this together," one of the survivors remarked, breakingthe silence.

Gathering the grouptogether, we took a moment to share our plans for the following day."We're heading to a small town about 15 miles away. We're hopingto find some vehicles. Maybe it'll give us a chance to cover moreground," I explained. The urgency of our journey was met withnods and understanding glances. "We've got to keep moving.Staying in one place for too long isn't safe," Sam added,emphasizing the need for constant vigilance.

With attentive nods anda chorus of agreement, the other survivors acknowledged the gravityof our mission. "We'll stick together. Strength in numbers,"one of them said. As the day unfolded, a sense of purpose settledupon our diverse assembly, bound by the shared quest for survival andthe flickering hope of a better tomorrow.

We headed to one of therooms in the shelter building. Derek followed. "So how long will ittake to get there tomorrow?" I asked Derek. "Well, On foot, itwill take a while. But it shouldn't take all day. We would be therebefore dusk." he responded.

"What will we do whenwe get there?" Derek commented. "Well, we will have to bringfood. We eat, and we rest for the next morning. If there arevehicles, we try to find fuel for them. If we fail, then I guesswe'll have to figure something out when we get there." Sam saidwith anxiousness.

     "Great. Now that wehave a plan, we can embark tomorrow morning. For now, we just keepsituated until then." Sara remarked in addition. We got into thebeds that were fitted into the building, and I quickly fell asleepdue to my vast amount of exhaustion.