Children of the After: The Complete Series: A Young Adult Postapocalyptic Action and Adventure series (6 page)

With every step the glass crunched beneath their feet as Jack led the way down the road. All around him evidence of destruction set his mind on edge as questions paraded through his brain that he did not have the answers for. Where had the people gone? There were no bodies, no bones. The cars crashed into the sides of buildings were empty too. The only proof they had existed were the crumbling buildings and streets around them. Beyond that, what had caused all the glass in all the buildings to shatter?

Everywhere he looked there was broken glass. The lamp posts along the streets no longer had decorative bowls covering the bulbs. Even the bulbs were broken. Had it been the heat from the fire or whatever it was that had burned the city? Not a single building they passed had a single pane of glass remaining in any of the windows. All glass was broken. Every. Single. Pane. How was that possible? Explosion? Heat? Shockwave of some sort? Jack had no idea. He wished he had paid more attention in science class.

Moving along the street, he focused primarily on the main question that kept him in a constant state of wonder. In all the kitchens they had scavenged through, the food was all but gone. If everyone had been lost at once, their food would remain. This led him to believe that there were, if not now, then at some point shortly after the event, other survivors in the city who scavenged the food. But where were they? Had they moved on, striking out from the city like Jack planned to do with his siblings? Had something else happened to them? Perhaps as a result of whatever primary event had taken place here? Was it safe to be in the city now, or were there some lingering biological or radiological hazards that would slowly drag them to the same death that had overtaken the city? He hated the unknowns. More than that, he hated that the whole world was now an unknown. All they could do was keep moving.

Though he had never paid much attention to the street signs, he knew the way to Grandma’s well enough without them. Good thing too, as most of them were either black or missing altogether. He knew, however, that they continued heading south until they passed under the interstate. Then he needed to go right until they crossed the low bridge, before taking the next left and following it two streets before Grandma’s road. It was a long way to walk, though he didn’t dare guess how many miles, he supposed it would take the whole day and most of the night to get there. Sad when it only took about an hour by car.

Mile after endless mile they walked until they found the remains of a small roadside diner. It was hardly recognizable, but the cast iron tables and stools cemented into the patio remained seemingly untouched, minus the fact that any paint that had graced their surfaces in the past had burned away. Guiding his siblings to take a seat, he rummaged through their supplies, pulling out the small camping stove, cookware, their can of chili, and a box of the corn muffin mix. It was experiment time.

Turning the knob and pressing the small red button the camp stove burst to life with a circular ring of flames atop which he sat the small folding pot. Digging out the can opener he had retrieved from the vault, he opened the chili and poured it into the pan. Hitting the already hot metal of the pan the chili sizzled, and the sound accompanied by its scent made his mouth water uncontrollably. Looking at both Will and Sam he could see it was having the same effect on them.

Scraping every bit of chili from the can he watched as it warmed, stirring it occasionally. The hotter it got the thinner it became, and just before it began to bubble he poured a little blue box of dry muffin mix into the pot and stirred it in. Waiting just a few seconds, he turned off the stove and handed Will and Sam each a spoon. Watching them both eagerly dig into the steaming pot, he hesitated to take his first bite, letting them be his guinea pigs. Not that he wouldn’t eat if they hated it. Of course he would. He was starving.

Jack watched as Will’s eyes widened, taking his first bite, as the corners of his mouth turned upwards.

“Mmm,” Will said, with both the spoon and food still in his mouth. “It’s yummy!”

“It really is,” Samantha added with a grin of her own.

He couldn’t wait any longer, and digging in with his own spoon he hefted a heaping spoonful of the steaming brown, thick substance into his mouth and closed his eyes to savor the moment. It had been more than two months since they had eaten a hot meal. It probably could have been a can of dog or cat food and would have tasted amazing, but nonetheless, something so simple as this was spectacular.

* * * * *

Sam blissfully ate her fill of Jack’s dinner, and sat back as Will stuffed himself. Helping Jack put their supplies back in their packs, they sat and watched as Will polished off what was left of the dinner, both of them grinning at his progress.

“Do you think Grandma’s house is still there?” Sam asked Jack.

“I don’t know. I was hoping we might have a better idea when we get out of the city. You know, see if all this…” he paused to gesture at the destroyed buildings around them, “…continues on outside the city,” he concluded.

“If it does,” Will began unexpectedly, “Maybe Grandma’s root cellar is still OK.”

“You’re a tiny little genius, Will,” Sam said. “I bet it’s still stuffed with canned goodies either way.

Rising from her seat, Sam collected Will’s spoon and the pot. Unable to clean any of their dishes, she wrapped them up in one of her shirts and placed them in Jack’s backpack. Rising after their meal, though all any of them wanted to do was take a nap, they took back to the street headed further and further from what had once been their home.

Walking along the scorched asphalt, Sam noted that the primarily residential areas had changed to that of small shops and strip malls, not that it really mattered. Here, just as before, the buildings were naught but empty half collapsed shells of their former selves, with bones of iron and steel jutting out from the rubble. She passed the buildings wondering about the people who had owned them or worked in them, and what had become of them. Had they had families? Were they all gone, or did they leave some behind as did her own family? Had they died or fled whatever hell had befallen Chicago? The mounting questions forced her to turn her imagination elsewhere, though it did her little good.

Looking down to Will, who marched along holding both her and Jack’s hands, she watched his little face as they traversed the street. Here his eyes would widen and there his face would scrunch up in thought. From time to time his little head would dart this way or that, seeking out something caught by his peripheral vision as he squinted into the distance. Watching her younger brother, Sam could not help but think of the future. Though she would certainly play the role if she needed to, would she have to act as a surrogate mother for him forever? Were their parents out there somewhere? Was anyone out there? Would she ever actually
be
a mother?

She realized that at fourteen she really shouldn’t be concerned with motherhood, but the situation demanded it. In the months spent in the vault it had been up to her and Jack to take care of Will, and it appeared now that the current state of things was not yet about to change. Not a single sign of life within the city had yet to reveal itself to them. No sounds came from distant streets. No flags waved from the shattered carcass of a building. No bright signs or arrows were painted saying that civilization still existed, and as such she had to believe that at least in this place, it did not. It was a sad and somber reality to dwell upon, but it seemed it was the only reality they had.

Not realizing how much time passed as she daydreamed on in wonder about their world and lives within it, Sam was caught off guard by both the failing light and Jack’s voice when he suddenly spoke.

“We need to find a place to stop for the night. Not only is it dangerous to walk in the dark, but Will needs a few hours of sleep, at least, and we don’t know what else might be out there.”

“What do you have in mind?” Sam asked.

“I’m not sure. We are apparently the only thing that survived this long after whatever happened, and we did it in a metal box. Perhaps we should look for something similar to the vault.”

“Like a bank?” Will asked excitedly.

“Maybe, little man,” Jack answered.

They began moving more quickly up the street then, peering down side streets, seeking a place to shelter the night but never did a bank present itself. Just before dark, it occurred to Sam that they had missed the obvious.

“What about a big refrigerator like in a gas station?” she asked.

“Holy crap,” Jack answered. “We’ve passed like six already.”

“Yeah but look, there are three more up on the corner ahead,” Sam said, pointing.

Approaching the corner they looked at the abysmal buildings and their melted and charred canopies and store fronts, choosing the one that appeared the least damaged, though the difference was marginal at best. Entering the building, they found it much as they expected. The steel shelves were both burned and bare and from the ceiling wires dangled here and there, the familiar tiles of the grid-like ceiling having burned months before. Walking straight to the door nearest the back of the store, both Jack and Sam peeked through it to discover exactly what they sought.

Aside from the cooler that once was exposed to all the now shattered glass doors where product could be removed by customers, there was another cooler in the back of the building. It was charred black on the outside, and looked to be less than half the size that the vault had been, but it would certainly suffice for a single night. Opening the door they glanced in to the near absolute darkness to see what might await them, each of them hopeful.

* * * * *

Walking into a pitch black metal box where anything might lurk was not Will’s idea of a good time. Even from the door the room looked frightening, at least what little he could see between his brother’s and sister’s legs. No way was he going in there without a light. Fortunately for him, he had one.

Taking off his backpack he yanked the zipper open and began digging. Spilling out his robot and various other things both he and Sam had put in the bag, he found what he had been looking for and yanked it free from the bag. Grandpa had been a sheriff for the Chicago metro police department before he retired, and had given Will this gift for Christmas last year. It was one of the coolest gifts ever, and even now Will marveled at it, sure the creator of such a thing had to be a genius.

Touting both an AM and FM radio, the emergency light did not need batteries. He could shake it for a minute or two and then turn it on. It had a flashlight, and even a lantern setting, but cooler than that, it had its own police lights and siren. Flipping the switches to the desired position, Will took the multifunction gadget in both hands and began shaking it vigorously as the flashlight LED began to glow brighter and brighter.

With his whole body moving with the action, Will watched as both Sam and Jack turned, their faces lighting up just as fast as the light in his hands. Smiling in return, and figuring his light would last at least a couple minutes, Will turned his light into the darkness of the cooler ahead of him. Inside, strewn about like so much unwanted trash, were wire shelves and empty cardboard boxes. Cardboard. Inside the cooler hadn’t been burned. Hearing both his siblings gasp at the same time he did, he knew they all realized the implications as each of them surged forward into the room and began digging through the boxes, hoping to find something to eat or drink. It was evident rather quickly that their search was bound to be fruitless.

“Well, at least we still have a good spot to sleep,” Sam said, sighing loudly.

“And light to see by,” added Jack. “Good job, little buddy.”

“Thanks,” Will replied with a wide grin.

Turning his attention back towards the door, Will gathered up his discarded bag and spilled the contents while both Jack and Sam stacked and tore apart boxes to make three little beds out of them. It took only a few moments, and Will waited patiently in the doorway.

Coming to his side, Jack inspected the door’s handle before turning to look around the room once more. Will began shaking the light again. Watching his older brother look about the small chamber, he saw as Jack dug through a pile of dismantled shelves in the back and produced a pair of the poles that made the corner supports of the shelving units. Carrying them to the door, he lowered both and shoved one end of both poles up under the door’s handle.

“Can you hold this, Will?”

“Yup,” Will said, happy to be able to help his big brother.

“Here, Sam, help me move this,” Jack then instructed their sister.

Setting down the light, Will grabbed both poles with his small hands to find they were much heavier than he had anticipated. Straining under the weight, he watched as Jack and Sam began shoving one of the tall shelving units nearest the doorway, towards him. Will saw movement beneath the shelf, and with a sudden intake of breath he dropped the poles to clatter upon the floor.

There, beneath the shelf, was an amazing, beautiful, and wonderful thing to behold, and rushing forward as Jack and Sam both stopped what they were doing to watch him, he slid to a stop on his knees and gathered up the shiny bottles of pop that had been hidden just moments before. Smiling like a child on Christmas morning, Will inspected the bottles in his lap as both Jack and Sam leaned over to see for themselves.