Alternity (35 page)

As Peyton stepped out from the underground bunker, she was immediately struck with wonder at the outside world. After four years inside, she’d forgotten how vast it was, how beautiful. The sky was painted a vibrant blue, sprinkled with puffy cotton-like clouds. Wildflowers tumbled across sagging porches and poked defiantly through cracked pavement. Her favorite oak tree was still standing, strong and majestic in the center of their front yard, its branches stretching high into the sky, as if to worship the heavens.

The scent of honeysuckle tickled her nose and Peyton sucked in a large breath, delighting in the fresh, clean and warm air that seemed so much sweeter than the stale re-circulated stuff she’d been stuck breathing for the last four years.

It was strange. For some reason, down in the shelter, she’d always envisioned the outside world to have become a gray wasteland, strangled by stormy clouds that mirrored the loss of humanity below. She’d expected a graveyard, a desolate landscape, a world with acrid winds and a sepia palette. But, it turned out, nature hadn't mourned man's destruction after all. If anything, it appeared to be celebrating its newfound freedom from gardeners and landscaping, a once tamed suburbia transforming into a feral forest full of emerald life.

She stuck out her arms, feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin for the first time in four years. She wanted to skip down the street, dance, cartwheel. Run for ten miles without stopping. Enjoy a world without boundaries after years in a cage.

After doing a little shimmy of joy on the front porch, she stopped herself, looking around, self-conscious, even though she knew there was no one to see her. The thought sobered her a bit. This beautiful world would most likely be empty. Or practically so. And now she didn't even have her mother by her side. A new emotion gripped her heart: sadness, the beauty of the world fading as reality sank in. Though she’d mourned her previous life for four years on the inside, it was different to suddenly experience its loss firsthand. Back in the shelter this reality had seemed unreal, distant. Like something from a film. Actually stepping out into the world and seeing the empty, debris-filled streets, the houses crumbling from years of neglect, made the whole situation a lot more real and a lot harder to swallow.

It was the silence that felt the eeriest. Not that her middle-class suburb had ever been a bustling metropolis, but there had been sounds all the same: the droning of lawnmowers pushed by dads on their days off, the screams and laughter of kids playing wild games of tag, cars streaming down the nearby interstate, beeping away their road rage. Planes flying overhead. Normal, everyday, take-them-for-granted sounds. All were now swept clear by an overwhelming, almost suffocating silence. There wasn’t even birdsong.

A realization she had half-suppressed for too long rose up and choked Peyton. Everyone and everything she knew and loved was gone. Her friends, her teachers—now even her mother—had succumbed. Only her father was left. Out there. Waiting for her. Waiting for her assistance in rebuilding the world he’d known would fail.

She focused on her dilemma. How was she going to get to where he was? His destination had been far, hundreds of miles away, and she truly doubted she could get the rusted old car in their driveway to start. Not that she had any idea how to drive; after the Highway Congestion Act of ’24, you had to be eighteen to take driver’s education in South Carolina, and she’d been way too young when they’d gone into the bunker. Besides, with no working gas stations and the streets filled with debris, it was probably better not to depend on cars. Maybe she could find a bike or something.

First thing first, though. She should find supplies. And while it was tempting to just hit a few of the nearby houses to see what they had in their pantries, it was also too morbid an errand for her to face. She didn’t want to see the remnants of her former neighbors tucked into their beds or lying sprawled on the floor, thank you very much. She’d try to find a store instead.

Steeling herself, she stepped from her porch and set off. Something in the middle of the pavement a short distance away made her pause. A small figure, more than half decayed, lay in the street, its skeletal hands clutching something shredded and pink. It was . . . a teddy bear. Peyton fell to her knees, bent over and threw up, suddenly glad her mother wasn't here to see this. Wondering if perhaps she was the smart one after all.

“God, Peyton, get a grip,” she muttered to herself a moment later, wiping her mouth, embarrassed by her weakness. She’d known it was going to be like this, after all. That she’d have to be strong and push all the horrors to the back of her mind. She didn’t have time to mourn humanity. She couldn’t be distracted by the past. What was done was done, and it didn’t do any good to cry about it. After all, as her dad would say, a Razor Girl didn’t cry. When they were sad, they spit.

Peyton did exactly that. She felt a little bit better, wiped her mouth again, this time with her sleeve.

But just as she was about to rise to her feet, her ears caught a sound in the distance. A voice, cutting through the dead air. She froze in her tracks, straining to listen. Was she hearing things? Was it only the wind? Some old holo broadcast set on repeat?

But no. It came again. Real and human and not that far away either.

“Guy! Where’d you go?” the voice cried. “Hey!”

People? Real-life people? Had her father been wrong? Had humanity survived, or at least more than expected? She felt a surge of hope rush through her, then forced herself to temper it. She'd been locked inside for four years. She had no idea what the outside world had become. These people could be savages, rapists, murderers, thieves. Doing whatever it took to survive in their harsh new reality, even if it wasn't in the best interests of all mankind. Or to her in particular.

Yes, they could be trouble. But then again, they could be able to help her. And Peyton had to admit, at this point she needed all the help she could get. And if they turned out to be no good, well, it wasn't as if she was incapable of defending herself, thanks to her dad.

Having made her decision, Peyton staggered to her feet and set off down the street as fast as her legs would carry her. Praying for the best, but preparing for the worst.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mari Mancusi used to wish she could become a vampire back in high school. But she ended up in another blood sucking profession—journalism—instead. Today she works as a freelance TV producer and author of books for teens and adults. When not writing, Mari enjoys traveling, cooking, goth clubbing, watching cheesy horror movies, and her favorite guilty pleasure—videogames. A graduate of Boston University and a two time Emmy Award winner, she lives in Austin, Texas with her husband Jacob, daughter Avalon, and their dog Mesquite.

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