School Of The Apocalypse

Chapter 13/Goods and Growth

Month 5 Day 13; 10:38 a.m.

My grandfather parked the bus in-between a grove of trees, being as quiet as possible.

He turned back to us as we grabbed our weapons and spoke in a caring, but firm, tone.

"Back by noon. Stay together. No gunshots unless absolutely necessary. Questions?" He all shook our heads. We filed off the bus and bid farewell to the others.

Jake and I headed down the road on our left and took it house by house, searching each one for supplies or survivors if someone had, somehow, survived this long.

At about nine till eleven, we came to the last house on the block. I picked the lock and the door slid open. I motioned for Jake to take the lead on this one. He nodded, visibly scared. I gave him a thumb's up and he smiled.

He pushed the tip of his bat against the door and pushed it open. He crept into the house, the floor squeaking with every step. I followed him and we came to a flight of stairs. I pointed up, then at him. He nodded again. I continued straight into the kitchen. The power was still on in this room, kind of scary, but I pushed that thought aside.

There was no evidence of a fight or death in the kitchen, good. My mind tended to ramble trying to figure out what happened when there was one, even against my wishes.

I checked the fridge. Jackpot! There was tons of food in it. It was practically filled to the brink. I opened my climate control bag and started stuffing food in. Cheese, mayonnaise, pepperoni, bacon, sausage, my mouth was watering thinking of how the food tasted.

In the midst of my revelry of acquiring the goods, Jake screamed. I dropped my bag and rushed out of the kitchen. I ran for the stairs and flew around them, pivoting on my arm. I bolted up the flight and held my bat tight as I reached the top.

The light in the farthest room was on so I rushed toward it. I kicked the door in and stood in the wake. Jake was on the bed, held down by an individual with a machete in hand, pointing it at his throat.

"Jake!" I screamed. The person turned around and looked at me. They rolled off the bed with Jake in hand. I made out the figure of a woman behind him holding the machete to his throat, using him as a human shield against me.

"Who are you and what do you want?" she said, stuttering as she spoke.

"It's okay. We don't want to hurt you," I said, placing my bat on the ground. "I'm Josh. That's Jake. We were searching for and supplies when we stumbled across your house. We didn't mean to startle you. Could you please release Jake? Then, we could talk some more." She didn't say anything. She looked down at the ground and then back at me.

"...and what if I decide to just... kill, 'Jake'?" she questioned, testing me.

"You don't want to do that," I responded. She twitched the machete in her hand, pretending to slit his throat xv. In one swift motion I produced my pistol and aimed at her.

"Alright, QuickDraw. I'll cooperate." She lowered her machete and Jake stepped away. I holstered my pistol and bat and we all proceeded to living room.

We talked till about eleven thirty. Her name was Sasha. She had survived her since the original attack had taken place in her neighborhood.

"Where are your parents?" I asked.

"They...um...left me here....four...years ago," she said.

"What!?! How could they do that?" Jake exclaimed. I stepped in his toes as soon as he said that, making him wince.

"I don't know. They just left. I woke up one day and they were gone," she said, whipping a tear from her eye. My heart was saddened. I was so sorry for her.

"Then, who took care of you?" I asked and immediately wanted to step on my own toes. Luckily, Jake obliged.

"No one. Everyone forgot about me. No one came to collect me. I just disappeared in their minds." There was a moment of silence in light of such a said statement.

"Come with us," I said, breaking the silence. She just looked at me, questioning my authenticity. "I'm serious. That's what we were hoping to do today. I mean, we were searching for supplies, but we were, at heart, looking for survivors. We have food, weapons, supplies, and people. You would be safe from everything," I said, reaching out my hand. She looked down, considering my offer, I hoped. After about a minute, she stood, and walked over to the coat rack that was next to the door. She grabbed a jacket and slipped it on.

"What are you staring at? We've got things to pack," she bantered at me. I laughed and rushed to the kitchen to finish packing the refrigerated items. One more survivor. Not a bad day, not a bad day, at all.