Spero: A Post-Apocalyptic Short Story |COMPLETE| ✔

EPILOGUE

RAINA POV:

I can't really remember how far we drove, or how long. It's all a little fuzzy now. All I remember are the chocolate bars and the daunting absence of a man that had been there for me longer than any other, well, aside from Dad of course.

I remember Dad being very angry, and covered in dark dirt and blood, too. He smelled bad, but I was too preoccupied to really care.

Anyway, we eventually stopped in a really cold place, cold even after the ash and extreme heat. Half-melted snow lined the ground and tall for trees. In that moment I was kind of intimidated, but I grew to love it.

I think it's been seven years since we stopped at the huge cabin, and Dad has a little streak of gray in his hair now. I like to make jokes and call him "old man". To him, it's not funny, and it's considered a challenge.

Since I was 10 he's been teaching me how to fight, how to shoot, how to do pretty much everything I need to do to survive... He's less paranoid now though. There's been absolutely nothing out of the ordinary for a long time, aside from me discovering a half-frozen, half-burned tabby kitten in an abandoned barn about four years ago.

I asked Dad the day I found what he thought about cats, but if didn't go too well. I did get to keep him though. Under the condition that Dad got to name him.

He named the cat Roach. Said nothing could kill those things. He said he was just like us, minus that fact that we weren't cats... Or bugs? I don't know, it made sense when he said it.

Survivors. That word both scared and inspired me. Survivors: me and my Dad Spero, and my cat, Roach.
Survivors: Other people, unknown and dangerous... But new and exciting.

Right now, I'm scouting through the woods. Today I've gone further than I've ever gone, and by now I'm sure my dad knows what I'm up to. He'll find me eventually, and he'll be mad, but it's totally worth it. I picked up a trail.

Im not sure what it is because there's been a fresh snow, and has covered up the particularly unique prints.

I think I'm about 20 miles out? Somewhere.

Im running, because I know I must be getting close. These tracks were from this morning, and now the sky is darkening, and stars are beginning to twinkle overhead...

My feet move silently over the snow, a trick my father taught to me.

Ahead, I see more tracks. I move up to them quickly.  Fresh tracks.

Fresh human tracks.

I gulp, and glance up the steep hill they move up. My logic and my curiosity battle, and the latter wins.

I crouch and move up it.

When I reach the top I gasp. In the middle of what used to be Michigan, a massive metal sheet wall is surrounding what looks like hand-built homes, and even a few stores. The encampment is the size, of not bigger, than the 20 miles I just ran to get here.

I stare with wide eyes, and just as I begin to move backwards, a deep voice speaks.

There's a mechanical beep and a rush of static before he talks.

"We've got an UnFamiliar here, Base."

I move to turn around, but the cocking of a gun stops me. I exhale, but tense up again at what sounds next.

"Boy, you ought to put that little toy stun-gun of yours away before your parents see you playing with it," an even deeper voice rasps.

Dad.

I turn around to see my Dad with a shotgun aimed at a wide-eyed brunette boy, well, man I guess I should say. He looks about 17 or 18... I think. I've only seen most other people on the television in movies when we're lucky enough to be able to play them.

He raises his Taser into the air along with his other hand and gulps. 

Suddenly, a voice responds over the radio.

"Really?! Okay, sending backup your way. The fourth quadrant of the boundary, right? Okay! Over and Out, Griffin!"

The guy called Griffin shakes his head lightly at the embarrassing spiel the high-pitched voice over the radio had said.

The man called Griffin has nothing covering his face or nose; he must be immune like us...

He rolled his dark, dark green eyes before I got up to stand beside my father. I glanced at him before looking at my Dad.

My father met my eyes, his ice blue eyes burning hotter than any fire I'd ever been near.

Oh, no, I think to myself warily.