Райан Уэстфилд - Finding Shelter

Despite how responsible Sadie had become, she still sometimes felt like she just wanted to goof off. And it wasn’t really possible to goof off in the camp, not with all those adults breathing down her neck, telling her to do this or that, until the point where she was tired to the bone and simply needed to eat and sleep.

But if she could find another girl her age, maybe she could goof off a little. Have some fun. Play the kinds of games her mom had told her about, the kinds of games kids used to play before cell phones and computers, the kinds of games that Sadie had only rarely played in her own childhood. Stuff like kicking a ball around. Or tic-tac-toe.

Sadie knew that Dan wouldn’t even think about playing a game. He was basically like an adult himself. And James? He’d just laugh at her and tell her to go do something useful.

Sadie glanced around. Everyone was busy. Her mother was asleep.

If she wanted to leave the camp, she could do it now. Easily. John and Cynthia were on watch now, and Sadie knew just how to avoid them.

It was a split-second decision.

She set her Thermos down on the ground, stood up, and quickly made her way away from her brother and Dan.

She moved quickly through the trees, a smile growing on her face.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled like that. Or the last time that she’d felt that she would soon be having some fun.

It didn’t occur to her that the girl her age might not even be someone that she’d like or be friends with. After all, one couldn’t be that particular in times like these.

Sadie didn’t have much with her. Just the basic kit that Max and Georgia had always agreed that every member of the camp needed to have on themselves. Just in case something happened.

The kit had grown over the months, as they’d gathered more supplies.

Currently, the kit included some kind of fire starter, a handgun, ammunition, a knife, and a small bottle of water.

The kit wasn’t perfect, but it would take care of the biggest threats to life. Hopefully.

Everyone carried their kit in different ways. Some could stuff it all in their pockets. Sadie’s clothes, which were quickly becoming very worn out, often didn’t have any pockets, or, if they did, they weren’t big enough. So someone had found her a little backpack that she had to wear around all the time.

The little backpack had a cartoon image on it. It was designed for a kid. And its contents now belied the cute images.

The little backpack bounced as Sadie walked through the woods.

They were fortunate enough that there really wasn’t a lack of gear. For one thing, there were a few weeks when they could simply walk down the road and find a string of corpses. People who’d died from starvation or violence. And they’d always had something on them. Some piece of gear. Often a firearm or a knife.

Of course, Sadie had just heard all this. She hadn’t left the camp since they’d gotten there.

She felt more energized with each step she took. She couldn’t wait to meet her new friend. Not to mention just get out of the camp. Away from that stifling atmosphere. And from all that work.

It had rained a little last night, but the sun was now appearing above the trees.

Sadie had the feeling that this was going to be a good day.

She did a mental check on the sun’s position, just as her mother had taught her. She needed to make sure that she was headed in the right direction. She needed to make sure she could find that family with the girl about her age.

It took Sadie about an hour to walk to the edge of the national park. She saw no one on her walk. And she saw nothing except nature.

When she’d left the camp, she’d headed in the direction away from the burial grounds, where they’d buried the corpses from the mob. And the others.

Up ahead, there was a small squat building. Some kind of welcome center. Sadie had seen things like that before. It was the kind of place that had a couple of maps pinned up in glass cases. And maybe a couple of restrooms that were locked, no matter what the season.

Off behind the small squat building, Sadie could see the road. It started out as a dirt road, but she could see where it turned into pavement and left the park.

Sadie paused, standing in place. Her hands were on her backpack straps, holding them as if she were headed off to school.

She took a deep breath.

She hadn’t left the camp, not to mention the park itself, in so long. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

Would the others worry? Surely they’d notice soon enough that she was missing.

And she hated to think that her mother would wake up and not know where she was.

Sadie hesitated, almost turning on her heel and marching back to camp.

But then she thought about it more and realized that no one had been paying her much attention anyway back at camp. It’d probably take them all day to notice.

And her mother would be asleep almost all day. At least until late afternoon. She’d had a long shift that night, and she’d been hard at work the day before, so she’d need all the sleep she could get.

Sadie thought about it and decided that she’d be able to get back either before her mother woke up, or right after it.

It’d all work out. The adults were just worrying too much about things. Sadie knew that the world was safer now. The adults had admitted it themselves, saying that so many people had died off that the dangers were diminished.

But, even so, Sadie wasn’t about to enter the outside world without a gun in her hand.

She may have been young but she wasn’t crazy.

Sadie got one arm out of the backpack. Slung the pack around to her front. Unzipped it, and dug in, reaching for the handgun safely stored in its holster.

She got it out. Got her backpack back on both shoulders.

The gun felt good in her hand. A little heavy. But she’d gotten used to it over the last few months.

She liked having her own gun. It meant safety. It meant protection.

And now she was gaining a little independence too.

She’d be back at camp before anyone got worried. It’d all work out.

Everyone went by their last names at the camp. Including Wilson and Grant. It gave the camp a vaguely military feel.

Wilson was seated at his folding card table in his tent. He was going over the clipboards full of paperwork, trying to patch a hole in one of the supply chains. In the past, this kind of work would have been made easier with computers. But, with a little patience, a pencil and paper still did the trick.

Wilson’s tent was a large camping tent, the cheap kind that families buy when they know they’re only going to be using it once or twice a year.

There were better tents at the encampment. Real camping tents. Tents with even more space. Tents that didn’t have tears in the sides and holes in the bottom.

But Wilson had never been the sort of man who had craved luxury. He’d never been the type to try to one-up his neighbors. He was always more or less content with the possessions he had, so long as they were practical.

He cared more about whether something worked than how it looked. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for everyone in the militia. As far as Wilson was concerned, this was wrong. After all, it was a militia, not a summer camp. And, what’s more, the world was different now.

But despite the chaos of the world, and the mission they were trying to accomplish here at Grant’s camp, there were men who weren’t satisfied unless their tents were the best around, their boots new, and their clothes free of rips, tears, and stains.

Wilson was different.

Even before the EMP, Wilson had cared about ideas. About goals. Objectives. About what he was doing in the world.