Ryan Westfield - Staying Alive

“We need to get through,” said Max finally.

“Who are you?”

“Max, not that that’s important anymore.”

“What are you doing out here?”

There was deep distrust in the man’s voice. But he hadn’t yet fired his shotgun. That was a good sign.

If he’d been out to steal the van, he would have acted by now. He wouldn’t have hesitated.

Then again, it could be part of some more devious scheme.

Max wasn’t yet sure.

“I’m coming from the farmhouse down that way,” said Max, gesturing. “Maybe half an hour’s drive.”

Max was starting to have a feeling that this man was from these parts, that he wasn’t some stranger from the city. And there weren’t many houses around. Anyone from the area was bound to know which house Max was talking about.

“I inherited the house,” said Max. “It’s mine. I didn’t steal it. I came out here after the EMP, but the area’s become overrun. An armed group invaded our home. There’s no way we can continue to defend it. So we’re heading out of the area. But if we don’t pass through, we’re never going to make it out.”

The man didn’t take his eyes off Max. He seemed to be deciding whether Max’s story could be true.

“Who are the people in the van?”

“Friends,” said Max. “One is a neighbor, one an old friend. The other three were strangers until the EMP. We’ve been helping each other.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“I don’t know,” said Max.

The more they talked, the more sure Max was becoming that this man wasn’t a danger in the way the farmhouse invaders had been. He seemed more like an honest worker from these parts, probably just trying to protect his family. Of course, that didn’t make him any less dangerous. Especially not if he ended up deciding Max was a threat.

“I’m going to put my gun down,” said Max. “OK?”

Max knew his friends in the minivan would be thinking he was crazy. Hell, they probably already thought he was crazy for doing what he was doing.

He bent down slowly and placed the Glock on the ground, muzzle pointed off to the side.

Max slowly stood straight again, and put his hands in the air.

“We’re not a threat,” said Max. “Unless we need to be. And I get the feeling the same goes for you.”

The man didn’t lower his shotgun.

But he spoke.

“We’re from here,” he said. “Our house is a quarter mile in that direction.” He gestured with his head in the direction, making only the slightest movement possible, in order to keep his eyes fixed on Max. His eyes occasionally darted to the minivan. We were fine for the first two weeks. But the last few days, there’ve been too many people arriving.”

“Same thing happened to us,” said Max.

“I had to shoot one of them,” said the man.

Max didn’t say anything.

“I remember your family,” said the man. “That is, if you are who you say you are. That house’s been in the same family for generations. What’s the name of your grandfather?”

“He always went by Hank,” said Max.

He saw the man’s face relax a little. He knew Max was telling the truth. At least about the farmhouse.

The man nodded ever so slightly. “I didn’t know him personally,” said the man. “But my dad did.”

“We’re not looking to hurt you,” said Max. “Or take anything from you. All we need is to… to be able to move these logs without getting shot. We’ll put them back. I figure you put them here to stop any more cars coming through.”

“Yup, trying to limit through traffic.”

Max nodded. And he waited for the man’s answer.

“We’ll let you through,” said the man finally. “My name’s Miller.”

Max breathed a sigh of relief.

“But we’re not going to let you get off so easy,” said Miller, who hadn’t given his first name.

“We don’t have many supplies,” said Max, cringing at the idea of giving up something that might save their lives later.

Max knew he shouldn’t have been surprised that Miller would want something in return. Sure, he’d known Max’s family. But this was the apocalypse. Society had collapsed. Everyone, to some extent, had to look out for their own.

The rules had changed.

But to Max’s surprise, Miller broke into a smile and finally lowered his shotgun.

“We don’t need anything from you,” he said. “But I think you could all do with a bit of rest at the very least, before you head on.”

Max was speechless. He simply wasn’t expecting this.

“You look like you can barely stand up,” said Miller. “And I’m going to guess that you all haven’t eaten much lately. I don’t know where you’re headed, but I have the feeling it’s a long ways off.”

“I don’t know,” said Max. “We need to push on. The area’s going to be overrun soon.”

“Well,” said Miller. “We’ve decided to stay. I’ve had the house set up practically like a bunker for a long, long time. And with this roadblock, well, it’ll slow people down a little bit. Those with vehicles, anyway.”

Max was hesitating.

It was true, he was so tired he could barely stand up. Half an hour’s sleep or so simply wasn’t enough, not for well over twenty-four hours.

“You sure your place is safe?” said Max.

“As safe as you’re going to get around these parts,” said Miller.

It was a tough decision. They needed to get going. But their chances of survival would be higher if they had some rest, some food. They’d be more likely to make the right decisions. They’d be more likely to react appropriately to danger.

“Penny!” called out Miller, waving over to the other side of the road. Come on out here. We’re going to help our new friends out.”

From the other side of the road, a woman emerged. She was carrying a shotgun as well. A child, around twelve, followed her.

“Everything OK, Max?” said Georgia, opening the passenger door to the van.

“I think so,” said Max. “Excuse me for a minute, will you?” he said to Miller, who gave him a nod.

Max leaned in towards Georgia, and speaking so that everyone in the van could hear, explained the situation.

“They seem trustworthy,” said Georgia. “Not that one can ever really know…”

“We trusted each other,” said Max. “And I’m glad we did. Not everyone is the enemy.”

Georgia nodded. “You’re probably right. I hope you’re right. But the longer we stay around here, the greater the chances are that we’ll get into another gunfight. And that’s what we’re trying to avoid.”

“We can’t defend the farmhouse,” said Max. “But, frankly, we’re going to run into trouble wherever we go. We might as well get some rest while we can. Where we know we’re safe.”

“I guess we don’t really have many other options,” said Georgia. “It’s a long drive wherever we’re going.”

“I say we go for it,” said Mandy.

“Yeah,” said Chad. “And I’m starving.”

Everyone agreed, in the end. They got out of the van and everyone introduced themselves quickly. Meanwhile, they all kept their eyes peeled on the surrounding area. It wasn’t exactly the right time for overly cordial introductions.

“We’d better get to the house,” said Miller. “You can bring the van.”

“How?” said Max.

“Just drive behind me. It doesn’t look like there’s a path. But trust me, there is. It leads right to our driveway.”

“He’s been worried about something like this for years,” said Penny, Miller’s wife. “Everything is set up for the apocalypse. Even the nonexistent trick driveway.”

“I’m impressed,” said Max.

“Wait ‘til you get to the house,” said Miller, who started walking off.