Lauren Hammond - Famished

Vivid flashbacks of the day the asteroid hit had always haunted me. Not only because the asteroid demolished the world I knew, but because it led to The Great Famine, a deceitful murderer ten times worse than the asteroid itself.

Two things had circled around my mind in constant rotation when I thought about my last day on the earth I knew. The loud, deafening cry my mother let out, when the leader of our nation made the announcement that we were all doomed. And the actual sight of the asteroid, with the circumference of a small strip mall, when it breached our atmosphere. It blazed bright orange and muted yellows flames trailed behind it as it sailed across the powdery blue skyline.

Plopping down on my porch swing that day, I marveled at the asteroid. My mouth had dropped open and I kept my eyes on the cratered monstrosity, lost in a trance as it passed over my house. Even though I knew the amount of destruction the asteroid would cause, I still found it beautiful. The bright colors reminded me of a brilliant display of fireworks shot off on the Fourth of July.

Our neighborhood was like an intersection in an overpopulated city. People were frantic, running from their houses to their cars, grabbing everything they could. Police officers were parked in between the cluster of people and cars, shouting from megaphones, blaring their sirens, and shooting off rounds of bullets into the air, trying to take control of the situation. But it didn’t matter, because nothing they did worked.

One of the men in the street clubbed a police officer on the side of the head with a baseball bat. Then, the people who didn’t have cars trampled all over the poor police officer, trying to evacuate. Terrifying screams played out like a song on the radio. And in just seconds, the amount of people in the street doubled.

My parents didn’t panic like all of our other neighbors. Yes, my mother had been startled and yes, she had screamed. But my parents were focused and set a plan in motion. Only seconds after the President finished his speech, my father was out the back door in a flash with a shovel in his hand.

I’d glanced at my mother, confused. “Where is he going?”

“To build our new home,” she answered solemnly.

“Where at?” The President had informed us that the asteroid would have breached our atmosphere in six hours.

“Underground.”

As I watched more of our neighbors flee, I’d squinted, puzzled as to why they thought it was necessary to shout and carry on like escapees from a mental institution. Did they think panicking was going to help their situation? Would spouting off like lunatics save them? Now, as I looked back on that day, I understood.

Nobody expected a global apocalypse. Nobody expected a massive ball of molten, burning rock to fall from the heavens and disintegrate anything and everything we knew. And most of all, nobody expected The Great Famine to sneak in, like a thief in the night and leave the remainder of the human population, starving and mad.

Everything had been wiped out. All of the houses, buildings, and skyscrapers, that were once carefully crafted wonders had become heaped over piles of rubble. Cars spontaneously combusted as a result of too much radioactivity.

Plants died from the earth’s soil being tainted. And shortly after that, the animals died, leaving what was left of the human population to rot from the outside in.

At the time, I’d thought people would have been more educated on what to do if a catastrophe struck. But people weren’t educated. And because they weren’t educated, they weren’t prepared. They were ignorant. Now, two and a half years into The Great Famine, everyone is hopeless and lost, left to fend for themselves.

The following two months after the asteroid hit were dismal and depressing. My father had constructed this tiny underground home for us, but it wasn’t completed and we spent most of our time huddled together, wearing surgical masks, and going without food for days at a time. Honestly, thinking back, if we would have continued on like that, I was certain that within a few months, our carcasses would have been rotting on the side of the road with most of the other survivors.

The name of the state I used to live in was Nebraska. And the city used to be Lincoln, the capitol. Now it was nothing. There were only fourteen surviving families left. Fifteen if you counted mine.

It had been a long time since I breached the surface of the world above. My parents wouldn’t allow it. So, as far as I knew, the survivors that remained were savages. I’d seen a few things while our colony was being built, and most of the inhabitants left ran wildly through the bare, desert terrain, filth covering them from head to toe, bones protruding through their leathery skin, foam dripping from their mouths in search of one thing…

Nourishment.

A high pitched squeal pulled me from my thoughts.

“Georgie!”

My time reminiscing about the past was over the second my kid sister, Frankie waltzed through the door. I rolled over on my cot as she plopped down next to me, sitting Indian style on the concrete floor. “What’s up, Frankie?”

“Were you sleeping?” Frankie was short for Francesca. The name suited her. She was a short, petite brunette that made the word enthusiastic seem like an understatement.

I propped my head up. “No,” I commented. “I’m just thinking.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Thinking? About what?”

I let out a long winded sigh. “I don’t know, Frankie, just

things.” I didn’t feel like elaborating.

Suddenly, Frankie, shot up off the floor like a cannonball barreling out of a cannon. I flung myself backwards startled by her spontaneous gesture. “Did Mom let you have coffee today?” I inquired. She was hyper by nature. She didn’t need the added caffeine.

Frankie paced back and forth across the small room, then giddily clapped her hands. “No,” she squealed. “But I have the most exciting news!”

I waited for her to go on with the story. “Well, come on. Spit it out.”

She stopped pacing, faced me and giggled out in delight. “We’re all being invited to the council meeting tomorrow!” She went on. “Can you believe it? After all this time we are finally going to see what goes on inside of a council meeting!”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

Four months after the apocalypse we banded together with the fourteen other families. The members helped my father expand our underground home into a colony, with tunnels that led to each family’s household. Shortly after that, they formed our colony council.

Once a week, the heads of each household met for a council meeting. Only the heads of each household attended the meetings. They never invited any family members. So I found it odd that were inviting everyone now.

There were a number of reasons why the families could be invited. They may have learned of some advancement on new earth. Maybe there were less toxins in the air now. Or they could be calling us in to give us some bad news. That maybe our food supply was running low or that they caught someone committing a crime. My gut told me, whatever the council was planning, wasn’t necessarily good. I sat up some. “Where did you hear about the families being invited?”

“I overheard Dad talking to Mr. Baker.”

My father’s involvement in the council worried me. He was so kind, trusting, and easily impressionable. I scowled at the idea of a weasel like Mr. Baker, a man who was always sneaking around, planting some stupid idea into his head. My father wasn’t a natural leader but, he did start this colony so he had to be included. I crossed my legs. “Well, what else did he say?”