Jeremy Robinson - SecondWorld

As he stroked her hair he wondered what his life would have been like if he’d taken a different path. Could he settle down? Have kids? Could he put a little girl to sleep on a nightly basis? He wasn’t sure and had no real frame of reference. Kids never really took to him. What he felt positive about was that he was damn glad to have found Arwen alive. On his own, he might get depressed, or distracted by the horrible setting. But with a child to protect, he’d be at the top of his game. He wouldn’t let the kid die. Not this time.

He dreamed of the desert. Of her —nameless and beautiful—dark curly hair cut just below the ears to make her look like a boy. More memory than dream, the nightmare had plagued him for years. The girl was no more than ten years old. Her dark brown eyes tore into him across the distance and through the binoculars. He left the safety of his position and ran for the girl. She stood at the edge of the target zone—an Iraqi radar station—but without cover, she’d be cut down. Ten miles away, the BGM-109 Tomahawk missile called in by his team switched from a solid propellant to its low-heat turbofan engine, finalizing its descent. That’s when she saw him coming… and ran the other way.

When he woke in the morning, he sat up straight, confused by the shield of white surrounding him. But then he remembered where he was and who he was with. He leaned over Arwen’s little body and watched her chest. She was still breathing. It seemed, for the time being, that he had managed to save this child.

Stiff and sore, he climbed out of the bed. After donning his gear and switching out Arwen’s IV bag he unwrapped a protein bar, lifted his mask, and took a bite. Ugh, he thought, looking at the label. Chocolate Cherry Nut. Tastes like shit.

Wandering over to the windows, he stared out at the world below. Orange light spilled over the city, reflecting off the high-rises and setting piles of red dust aglow. The sun rose over Miami, glinting off a distant billboard. The giant sign featured two sports cars, one red, the other silver. The logo read TESLA MOTORS.

Tesla Motors.

A grin formed on his face. He’d just discovered his first bit of good luck. Tesla cars ran completely on electricity. They didn’t use combustion. They didn’t require oxygen!

Miller squinted as he read the address given on the billboard. He quickly found it on his map, marked the location, and said, “Arwen.” When the girl didn’t respond, he repeated her name more loudly. She groaned as she awoke.

“You snore,” she said.

Miller smiled. “Sorry, but listen—”

“I’m hungry. And thirsty. Weren’t you supposed to get me something to drink?”

His smile broadened. He unwrapped a protein bar and slid it inside the oxygen tent. A bottle of water with a straw went next.

He watched the girl’s silhouette move within the tent as she took a bite. “Gross,” she said. “Tastes like shit.”

Miller laughed loudly. “That’s what I thought. But it’ll keep you strong.”

“Strong for what? I’m just lying here.”

“Not for long,” he said. “I found a way out.”

“I can’t see anything under here,” Arwen said from beneath the white tarp of her oxygen tent.

“You’re not missing anything,” Miller replied as he angled the modified gurney around the parched body of a woman facedown on the pavement. He’d rigged a white tent over the gurney and managed to attach two O2 tanks and a saline drip. The end result was a crude but functional mobile oxygen tent.

He’d debated taking Arwen out at all, but when he’d mentioned the car dealership she refused to let him leave without her. Hearing the fear in her voice, he realized that leaving her behind would be cruel, even if there were people in the city gunning for survivors. If they killed him, maybe her blond hair and blue eyes would save her?

Not that it helped all the other white people living in South Florida.

The gurney bounced with a jolt that made Arwen groan in pain.

“Sorry,” Miller said. He’d run over the dead woman’s hand, which had apparently been separated from her body. Must have been hit by a car, he thought, and then lied, “Pothole.”

“There aren’t any potholes in Miami.”

“There are now,” he said in a tone that told her not to argue.

As he walked, Miller scanned for signs of life—both friendly and unfriendly. But with so many places to hide, and so many distractions for his eyes, he doubted he’d see anything. But the large red and white Tesla Motors sign was impossible to miss. He quickened his pace. They still needed to find a car and return to the scuba shop for his supplies before his air ran out—which would happen in just over an hour. Once all that was done, they could finally get the hell out of Dodge.

At least he hoped they could. Dodge could be the entire planet by now.

“Why are we going faster?” Arwen asked.

“Almost there.”

“Go Percy. Go Percy! Go Percy, go, go!” she cheered.

Miller smiled. “Who’s Percy?”

“It’s from a cartoon of Cat in the Hat. Percy the Penguin races a seagull. I used to say it with my little brother, Sam, when we raced.”

Miller sensed a dramatic shift in the girl’s demeanor, which had remained stalwart and in good humor thus far. He slowed his charge toward the car dealership.

“He pronounced it ‘Poucey.’” She sniffed back tears. “They’re dead, right? My parents?”

Miller slowed almost to a stop. He wanted nothing more than to lift up the tarp and hug the girl. But the quickly-rigged tent would likely lose most of its air, she might see one of the many bodies around them, time was short, and even if he could get to her, he doubted he could hug her without causing extreme pain.

“I… I don’t know.”

He saw her lean up in bed.

“I could hear people dying. I saw the red snow. You don’t need to lie to me.”

Miller stopped moving and let out a deep breath that fogged the inside of his face mask. When it cleared, he said, “They probably didn’t make it. So far it’s just you and me.”

“That’s what I thought.” She lay down again. “Let’s go.”

Without another word shared between the two, Miller pushed the gurney toward the dealership, happy to see the street ahead of them free of bodies. He stopped beneath the Tesla Motors sign five minutes later. Palm trees encircled the boxy gray building, which would have looked almost drab if you ignored the large glass windows revealing the rich, red interior. The red walls may have once invoked a feeling of power and superiority, but with most of the world presently coated in a red film, it just looked cliché.

If not for the sleek silver Model S electric car in the front window, he might not have given the building a second glance. But now he revered the sight like it was Jesus Christ himself returned to the Earth. The car represented salvation.

If he could get it started.

“We’re there,” he said, rolling the gurney to the front door. He tried it. “Damnit.”

“Locked?”

“Yup.” He pulled the gurney away from the door.

“What are you doing? One locked door and you’re giving up? We’re doomed.”

Miller smiled, relieved to hear Arwen’s spunk returning.

“Can you cover your ears?” he asked. “This is going to be loud.”

Miller drew the 9mm and aimed it at the door. He was about to pull the trigger when he noticed that the showroom window was level with the sidewalk. Not sure if the garage doors could be opened without electricity, he turned the gun toward the window and fired.