Ryan Westfield - Staying Alive

“I don’t get it,” said Mandy. “What makes you think that anywhere else would be any better than here? You’ve been saying that the EMP must have hit the whole country, maybe even the whole world.”

Max nodded. “Definitely,” he said. “If it was just our area, we would have heard about it by now. They would have sent the army, or something.”

“So the rest of the country is in the same condition? But you think it’ll be better?”

“Think about,” said Max. “We’re just a day’s drive from Philadelphia. And we’re not that far from New York City. Two densely populated cities. And don’t forget about the surrounding areas. It’s not like everyone’s been wiped out all at once. But if we can get farther out…”

“Where? Kansas? New Mexico? We don’t even have maps. How would we even survive the journey?”

“The college kid who owned the van made it pretty far,” said Max. “Maybe it’s not that bad in the middle of the country. There are fewer people, and that means less chaos.”

“I don’t know,” said Mandy. “What do you think the others would say?”

“I don’t know,” said Max. “They can stay here if they want. It’ll be their house. It’s not like property titles mean anything anymore.”

“They all look up to you,” said Mandy. And she added, in a softer voice, “And I do, too.”

Max didn’t say anything.

“We all know we wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you,” said Mandy. “Whatever you decide, everyone’s bound to follow. Do you think we can get everyone in the van?”

“Yeah,” said Max. “But I need to think about it. I need to talk to Georgia, too. And Chad.”

“Chad?”

Max knew that Mandy had never had a high opinion of Chad. And apparently the fact that he’d shot the attacker hadn’t changed her mind.

“Yeah,” said Max. “He’s traveled the country more than I have, probably more than any of us.”

Mandy moved away from Max, headed towards the window. She stood there and looked out at the dark night.

“Are you OK?” said Max.

“My finger’s fine,” said Mandy. “It’s just a cut. It’ll heal.”

“I don’t mean your finger,” said Max.

Mandy turned to look at him. She didn’t say anything. But there was a far-off look in her eyes.

“It’ll pass,” said Max.

“I’ve never felt so bad about anything I’ve done,” said Mandy.

“It was either you or her,” said Max. “There was nothing else you could have done.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier.”

“It doesn’t have to,” said Max. “You’ll get used to it.”

Max knew that it was likely that Mandy would have to kill again. He knew that they all probably would.

If they stayed at the farmhouse, they would kill and kill until they themselves were killed.

Max was embarrassed about the amateurish operation he’d been running here. There were no real defenses. A single person on the roof wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

At least Max could now recognize his own weaknesses. His strategic weakness.

But if he wasn’t good at defense, there were still things he was good at.

If they could get farther away, maybe they could thrive.

“Look,” said Max. “I’m not saying we abandon the farmhouse forever. Maybe we just need to get away until things calm down more. Then we can turn it into a homestead. If we don’t find something else better, that is.”

“This was supposed to be the place to come to get away from it all,” said Mandy.

“I know,” said Max. “Trust me, I know.”

Mandy didn’t say anything for a moment. She continued to stare out the window.

“Do you ever think about the people you knew?” said Mandy.

“Sometimes,” said Max.

“I do,” said Mandy.

“It’s only natural,” said Max. “It’s your brain trying to make sense of this all.”

“How can you say that?” said Mandy. “You’re saying my thoughts and worries aren’t real?”

Max shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not really up for a philosophical discussion right now. We’ve got things to do. We’ve got plans to make, food and water to get before we’re ready.”

“Do you have any family?” said Mandy. There was a tone of annoyance in her voice. Max didn’t know what it meant, but he wasn’t about to get too concerned about it. There were more important things right now than people’s feelings.

“Yeah,” said Max. “I have a brother.”

“And…?”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t think about him? You don’t want to know what happened to him?” Mandy spoke like she wasn’t going to give up without an answer from Max.

The easiest thing to do would be to answer her.

“I’ve barely talked to him in ten years,” said Max. “I think he was pissed that I inherited the farmhouse. Not because he really wanted it. He had all the money he needed, and then some. He’s a resourceful guy, and he always looks out for himself. It’s one of his worst characteristics. Or it was. Maybe it’ll serve him a lot of good now. I don’t know.”

“I have a sister…” said Mandy.

“Look,” said Max. “We need to save our energy. We can’t really get into this right now.”

Mandy gave him a look that was more than mere annoyance. “How can you say that?”

The sound of a gunshot rang loudly outside, interrupting the conversation.

“Stay in bed,” said Mandy. “Don’t you dare move. I’ll see what it is.”

“At least hand me my gun,” said Max.

Mandy was peering out the window. “I can’t see anything. I’m going outside.”

Mandy took Max’s Glock and its holster from his clothing on the floor and handed it to him.

“Actually,” said Max. “You should take it. You might need it.”

“I have my rifle.”

“Take it,” said Max, holding out the gun and holster for Mandy.

She took it wordlessly, and left the room.

“Are you OK?” said Lawrence, helping John sit upright, his back against the building.

“I think so,” said John, wincing in pain. “That was some good work, scaring them off like that with the knife.”

“I don’t think I could have really stabbed anyone,” said Lawrence.

“Well, you’d better change your mind on that,” said John. “These guys were nothing compared to the others.”

“Trust me,” said Lawrence. “I know.”

“Then you’d better get your head on straight. None of this helping people shit anymore. You’ve got to have an iron fist. Do we still have the bag?”

“Yeah,” said Lawrence. “I’ve got it here. All the bar peanuts and limes we can eat.”

John grunted. He held his head, not that it helped the pain.

“So you don’t want me helping anyone, but it’s fine that I’m helping you?” said Lawrence.

“We’re helping each other,” said John. “Remember? You’ve changed your mind and realized you want to get out of the city.”

Lawrence didn’t say anything.

“Come on,” said John, getting slowly and unsteadily to his feet. “We’ve got to keep moving. And keep an eye on the alleys this time.”

They set off.

John’s head was killing him, and he felt nauseous and weak, probably from the lack of proper food.

They walked the city streets for what felt like hours. It was the same almost everywhere. There were abandoned cars, trucks, police cars, and military vehicles. There were countless bodies on the ground.

They peered carefully into every alley as they passed it, not to mention every side street.

John tried to keep his guard up at all times, but it was difficult with his head hurting, battling the fatigue and nausea.