G Hopf: Driver 8: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel

“If it’s food you’re looking for, we had it all in the back of the truck,” Tiffany said.

“Is that right,” the first man said. He gave his men a once over and asked, “Where’s Mike?”

“He’s down the road in his position,” one of the men replied.

“That dumbass disobeyed my order, I said shoot the fucking tires. No, he had to go and shoot the driver, now everything we need is down at the bottom of that ravine.”

“It’s not all lost, Ray,” one of the men said. “We’ve got twenty-three kids and two women.”

“Yeah, I suppose it’s not all bad if we were fucking cannibals you idiot,” Ray snarled.

“No, you’re not seeing it. Maybe we can trade them. Huh?”

Ray thought for a moment and as if a light bulb went off in his head, he hollered, “Load back up boys.”

“All right, you heard, get back on the bus,” one of the men yelled pointing his rifle at them.

Andy and Tiffany were the last in line.

Ray came over, gave Andy a look over and said, “Who the hell will want a pussy of a man like him.”

The other men laughed.

Andy cringed and begged for mercy, “Please don’t hurt me.”

Ray pulled him out of line, drew his pistol and shot Andy in the head.

Tiffany screamed, “Who are you? You fucking monsters!”

“Well aren’t you a feisty one,” Ray said rearing his arm back and smacking Tiffany hard in the face.

The hit was so hard she fell against the bus and onto the ground. She rolled over and caught a glimpse of Kyle moving. He looked up for a second, just enough for them to make eye contact. Not wanting him to suffer the same fate as Andy she shook her head, signalling for him to stay down.

“Tyrone, toss that pretty little thing in the back. It’s time to tame the wild beast,” Ray said.

Doing as he was told, Tyrone, picked Tiffany up and took her onto the bus.

Ray called out, “Alright you sons of bitches. Good haul. Let’s head back to the ranch and have us a party!”

The bus fired up.

Kyle tried to move but his body was racked with pain. He slightly lifted his head as the bus drove past, the tires grinding the broken glass and debris from his truck into the pavement. He reached out with his bloody and battered arm and said, “Tiffany.” Unable to stay conscious he drifted off.

“Who is he, dad?” a young boy asked.

“I don’t know his name but it doesn’t matter, he’s a man in need,” a man said towering over Kyle who was still lying in the road. “You two, get this man into the van,” the man ordered.

Two other men ran over and picked Kyle up and carried him over to a large cargo van. They laid him in the back gingerly. The boy and his father got in with him.

Kyle opened his eyes but all he could see was two blurry figures above him. “Tiff…”

“What’s he saying, dad?” the boy asked.

“Sounds like he’s calling out for someone.”

The boy leaned in close and whispered, “If supplies are tight, why are we saving him? You always say the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one.”

“Son, that’s a good question. I saw this man and for some reason, I felt like he needed to be saved.”

“He’s another mouth the feed,” the son said.

“He can have half my ration.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“Because you’re thinking with your head. I’m thinking with something else. I don’t know who he is or where he came from. I don’t know if he’s a good man or a bad man. But something tells me, we need him. I could be wrong but I’m going with my gut.”

“But…”

The father held up his hand, “I know what I’ve told you. Let’s see how this plays out. Either he’ll end up being a savior for our fledging group or he’ll be the one that will put an end to it. Right now, I’m betting he’s the former.”

The driver jumped behind the wheel and asked, “We calling it a day?”

“Yes, take us home.”

“Okay, next stop, Eagle.”

Kyle stared at the shadows imprinted on the concrete wall. Who were they? Did they feel anything or was it over in the flash of a second? He asked himself as he reached out and touched the darkened marks. These weren’t the first shadows he’d seen and they wouldn’t be his last, but each time he wondered. How could something do that? He recalled reading the stories about Nagasaki and Hiroshima and how people’s shadows there were sheered onto walls and sidewalks. It’s one thing to read about something, quite another to witness it with your own eyes.

A strong wind whipped past him. He turned and looked out on the barren and dead landscape. In all directions, for as far as the eye could see, a once great forest lay flattened, its trees lay like blackened matchsticks. What had taken nature generations to grow, man had destroyed in a matter of seconds.

Kyle enjoyed his solo runs into The Wastes, it was always dangerous, but there he could find peace amongst the remnants of war. Today marked the furthest he’d ventured in The Wastes, in fact, he had the record now and would no doubt hold it for some time as the other drivers didn’t like the runs here and knew Kyle was always available to take theirs if they didn’t want to go. They preferred to stay on relative easy terrain, avoiding any area near where a major city once stood.

He stepped onto the shattered foundation of the house. His eyes darted around until he spotted what he was looking for…a stairway that led to a basement. Other drivers often overlooked basements. Not Kyle. They tended to be undisturbed treasure troves for scavenging. A pile of debris, mostly the charred remains of the house, blocked the stairway. Methodically, he pulled one piece after another out of the way, being careful not to puncture or tear a hole in his hazmat suit. Patience was his friend and thankfully he had it. In The Wastes, one moved and acted differently. Rushing often led to mistakes and in this environment, mistakes could be fatal.

Once the stairway was free and clear, he proceeded down only to stop at the bottom. A large metal fire door stood in his way. He reached down and turned the knob. Fortunately for him, it was unlocked. He turned the knob and pushed the door but it didn’t open. He put his weight against it and shoved.

The door cracked followed by a gush of air. That signaled to him this room hadn’t been accessed in years, maybe even since the day the war started. Kyle stepped back. He pulled out a flashlight and pushed the door fully open. He shined the light across the room before entering and confirmed what he surmised, no one had been down here for a very long time. The room was a snap shot out of time, all preserved under a thick layer of dust. Deciding it was safe, he entered.

His first observation of the basement was that it had been used as living space. In the far corner to his right, a sectional couch sat. On the wall in front of it hung a fifty-inch flat screen television. To the right of that he spotted a pool table.

He cast the beam to the left. There he spotted a washer and dryer with clothes still dangling from a clothesline that spanned from a large support beam to the wall.

Kyle beelined it for the washer and dryer. He grabbed a large basket and began to pile in the bleach and detergents. He paused just before pulling the clothes off the line.

“Let’s make sure you’re clean,” he said out loud. From a utility belt, he removed the wand from his Geiger counter, flipped on the device and waved it just an inch above the fabric. “Hmm, no discernable radiation. Excellent.” Happily, he pulled every stich of clothing from the line and placed it in the basket.