I skid down one of the piles of rubble, my Nikes kicking up dust. Mom waits at the bottom, trash bag in hand, picking up anything salvageable and shoving it in the black plastic Hefty. “Lexi! Come on, honey, we’ve got to keep moving! The drones will be patrolling this area soon!” She pulls up the sleeves of her purple t-shirt, plunging back into the rubble. I pull my thick, dark brown hair up off my neck, yanking it into a ponytail with a half-melted rubber band I find on the ground. Sweat is making my faded green Aeropostale shirt stick to my back, and I tug at my ripped jean shorts. It’s six o’clock and the sun is still blazing, frying everything.
Everything is desert, miles of dust, dirt, and piles of rubble, all that’s left of America. “Lexi! Come on!” I give my shorts one last tug and jog over to my mom. “Sorry. It’s just...so...hot!” She nods, smiling sadly. “I know, hon, but we’ve just got to deal. Now let’s go, the drones will be back soon.” She ties the garbage bag closed and slings it over her shoulder. I tighten my ponytail and jog after her, kicking up clouds of dust.
We pass decimated cities and bombed neighborhoods, endless fields of rubble, and rusted cars left in the middle of streets. My heart pounds as we jog quickly across the barren and bombed desert. Danger lurks everywhere; behind every rubble pile, across every deserted street. At around ten o’clock, the sun finally goes down, and the high pitched hum of drones fill the air.
My pulse races, and like every time I see anything Advanced, I feel like crying. Mom pulls me behind the nearest pile of rubble, and we crouch there in silence. I close my eyes tight and burrow into the rubble, pieces of glass and shrapnel scraping me. The drones pass overhead, and all is calm again.
“Alright, Lexi. It’s okay. Let’s stay here for tonight.” I nod dumbly, and move to the side as my mother digs deep into the pile of rubble. In no time, she’s dug a small cavern, just big enough for us and our Hefty bag. I crawl in after her, and we huddle together in the middle of the rubble. A shard of plastic pokes into my back, and I shift restlessly. The drones pass overhead again, and I freeze up. Mom hugs me tightly, and I lean my head against her shoulder.
As we sit there, I think to myself. I’m a rebel. A seventeen year old rebel. I smile. I don’t even want to be a rebel. Being alive, that’s all it takes to be a rebel. And it’s not very fair; there are only two rebels in this world, only two humans left.
A few minutes later, I feel myself starting to doze. But even in sleep, I’m still afraid. Afraid of the Advanced. Afraid for my mom. But most of all, I’m afraid for myself. Because I’m a coward.
The heat is what wakes me up. Mom is already awake, rummaging through the torn garbage bag. She wipes her hands on her jeans, and pulls out a dusty Pick N’ Save bag. I reach into it and grab a half-melted banana, and spread it on some crushed bread. My throat feels too dry to swallow, but I do it anyway. I’m always hungry, and nothing goes to waste. Mom hands me a half-filled Vapur water bottle, and I take two big gulps. After shoving the bottle back into the Hefty, I crawl out into the bright sunlight.
Suddenly, a hand grabs the back of my shirt and pulls me back into the hole. A fleet of drones pass overhead, scanning the ground for signs of life. My heart pounds, and tears well up in my eyes. I feel like I’m going to throw up. I was this close to being caught. Mom wraps me in a hug, rocking me like I’m still a baby and not a teenager. A few minutes pass, and I crawl, shaking, back outside. This time mom follows. She gets to her feet, slings the garbage bag over her shoulder, and takes my hand. I’m still trembling. She leads me gently aways from the rubble pile, and we head South.
I can’t seem to stop shaking. The threat is everywhere; the Advanced will never stop, never rest. Not until every single human is gone. I shudder. Not until my mother and I are turned. A fate worse than death.
