Scott Nicholson - The Shock

Rachel’s face, although streaked with black soot, shone with a benevolent radiance as bright as the fires that surrounded them. Campbell knew most of it was projection, his own hope that he’d find something more in After than just the next breath. He needed a reason to live. And she was the first female he’d encountered that was anywhere close to his age.

Somebody’s got to breed, right?

“Watch out for the soldiers,” Rachel said. “They’re well-trained, heavily armed, and mildly psychotic.”

She limped toward the street, DeVontay supporting her, Stephen trailing just behind them. The house crumbled into a pile of charred lumber, hissing from its blue heart, a mild mockery of the malevolence delivered by the distant sun.

“Maybe we should give them a gun,” Campbell said to Arnoff.

“Don’t go trying to save the world,” Arnoff said. “There’s no future in it.”

“Well, what’s the plan, then? Walk around shooting Zapheads until you run out of ammo?”

Arnoff checked the chamber of the Marlin, pulling a few cartridges from a vest pocket and sliding them into the tube. “Going from house to house, you’d probably find enough ammo to kill every Zapper on the planet, a hundred times over. Thank God for the Second Amendment.”

“I’m not sure the Bill of Rights applies anymore,” Campbell said.

“Maybe not. I can just see a bunch of Zapheads sitting on the Supreme Court right now. Wouldn’t be able to tell much of a difference, if you ask me.” Arnoff scanned the rooftops and the perimeter of the surrounding yards. Now that the fire had banked itself and burned low, the neighborhood had fallen quiet again, although the holocaust to the east was spreading.

They heard Donnie in the distance, giving his redneck rebel yell followed by a series of semiautomatic rounds. Arnoff grinned. “Hunting season,” he said, heading in the direction of the volley.

“I’ll catch up in a minute,” Campbell said. “After I find Pete.”

Arnoff didn’t even turn around. “Compassion was a game for the old days, son. Brownie points don’t add up to shit in the afterburn.”

Campbell clenched his fists in rage. He could hear the echo of his overbearing dad’s, “ Get with the program !” in those words. Was it any wonder that Campbell always shrank from responsibility and rejected authority? Assholes had always run the world and set the rules. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that their power had been wiped away by a few massive spasms of the sun.

Campbell left the dying red glow of the house fire and entered the shrubbery where he’d last seen Pete, digging in his backpack for his flashlight.

“Got any Slim Jims?” Rachel asked DeVontay.

He grinned, his teeth and eyes the only part of his face visible in the gloom. “I knew you’d come around to good eatin’.”

They’d spent the night in a strip motel, walking just far enough to be reasonably sure the expanding blaze wouldn’t reach them before dawn. The motel’s small windows were set high in the wall, situated to allow neither easy access nor sunlight. The check-in counter had been abandoned, although the cars parked outside many of the rooms gave the illusion that it was business as usual at the Parkview Travel Plaza.

Although dawn was still probably an hour away, Rachel felt a little better from her brief sleep. DeVontay had dozed with his back against the door, his pistol resting between his legs on the dusty carpet. Stephen had climbed up on the lone twin bed with Rachel and had fallen asleep instantly, and was still snoring like a buzz saw.

Rachel stroked a tendril of hair away from his soft cheek. “Poor little guy. He’s had a rough time of it.”

DeVontay passed her some Slim Jims and a bottle of water from his backpack, as well as a pack of cheese crackers. She’d always had a pet peeve about eating in bed. She considered it a sign of sloth and personal failing. Now, in retrospect, her admittedly uptight view of morality seemed foolish.

She wondered what other views might change in the days and weeks ahead. She bowed her head and said, “Dear Lord, thank you for the food we are about to receive for the nourishment of our bodies, that we may have strength in Your service. Amen.”

The prayer was so automatic she hadn’t realized she’d said it aloud until DeVontay added, “Amen.” After a moment, he said, “You’re really a holy roller, ain’t you?”

“No rolling going on here,” she said, tearing into one of the salted meat snacks with her teeth. “I just need all the help I can get.”

“That’s cool. My momma was in the church choir. She was Mennonite. I had to go when I was little, but I never got it into much, Too many rules for my blood.”

“Doesn’t all this…this After …make you want to find peace in the Lord?”

“Well, depends on how you look at it. Maybe God is going to save us, or maybe God caused all this in the first place.”

“My faith hasn’t wavered,” Rachel said, a little too forcefully. Pride was a sin, but failing to testify was a different kind of arrogance. Or maybe she was just trying to convince herself.

“Okay, fine,” DeVontay said, pulling more snacks from his backpack and ripping into the cellophane. “Do you think this is the Revelations coming true? The seven-horned beast and all that shit?”

“I don’t take the Book of Revelations literally,” she said. “I don’t think the final battle is going to take place in the Holy Land, or that the Antichrist is walking among us.”

“But there’s something in there about the world ending in fire from the sky, right?”

“After the seventh seal is opened, a great star falls from heaven and a third of the sea turns to blood. But there are also earthquakes, locusts, and foul waters. I don’t see any of that, do you?”

“So, it’s possible this isn’t really the end of the world? Just a warm-up act.”

She couldn’t tell if he was teasing her or not. The first blush of dawn took some of the darkness from the window, and Rachel became aware of the shabby furniture in the room. The bed linens seemed clean enough, though, and she was in no position to complain. The toilet didn’t stink, so at least those particular waters hadn’t been fouled by the great whore of Babylon.

She patted Stephen’s arm, which was curled around Miss Molly. “All I know is it’s not over as long as there’s a single human left,” she said. “We’re here to care for each other as best we can, do the next right thing, and stay in service to the Lord’s will for us. We don’t have to understand it. Our job is to just keep showing up.”

“So, you don’t see all this as a showdown of Good versus Evil?”

“Are the Zapheads evil just because they have destructive natures? Maybe they’re serving the Lord’s will just as we are.”

“Everything happens for a reason, huh? Sounds like the excuse people use for some sucky choice they made.”

“And God gives us free will, so we have the chance to choose goodness and grace and salvation.”

DeVontay stood, clutching the pistol, and peeked out of the high window. Satisfied, he turned back to her, his face now plainly visible in the dawn. He seemed angry, his skin stretched taut over his jawbones, his forehead furrowed. “Except, we didn’t get no choice, did we? We wake up one day and we’re in hell.”

“No,” she said. “We’re alive.” She touched Stephen’s shoulder. “We still have something to live for.”

“Oh, yeah? Come take a look at this.”

Careful not to rouse Stephen, whose snores had quieted, she slipped out of bed and joined DeVontay at the window. Outside, she could see the surroundings that had been hidden the night before. They were in a mixed-use commercial area, a few apartment buildings separated by retail and light industrial uses—a plumbing supply shop, a fenced lot with stacks of wooden beams and piles of sawdust, and a thrift shop with toddler clothes in the window.