The Radio Hissed …

The radio hissed. Rolland grumbled and turned it off. 

It always hissed now.

Across the bunker, Sarah played with her doll, one of the few things they’d salvaged from the house. 

Rolland looked at the clock, which was slowing. The second hand was ticking about every four seconds now. 

How long before it stopped in its tracks? A day, maybe two at most.

He stood, and his knees cracked after sitting for so long. It was almost dinner time, and Rolland had to get moving if they were going to eat something other than their normal diet of provisions and powdery, imitation food. 

Sarah called it “astronaut food’” and didn’t seem to mind its chalky taste and starchy smell. But Rolland couldn’t stand it.

“I know beggars can’t be choosers,” he said to Sarah, messing up her hair as he passed, “but I’m going to see if I can catch something else tonight.”

“No, don’t go,” she replied. “I don’t like it when you leave the basement. I get scared by myself.”

“I won’t be gone long, maybe half an hour.”

Sarah looked puzzlingly at him, unsure of how long that was, and went back to playing with her doll.

“What should we do while Rolland goes out in the grey, Miss Ice Cream?”

Rolland walked to the ladder and paused, feeling his back pocket. He turned, and grabbed his father’s hunting knife from its hook on the cement wall.

Before closing the iron cap and heading off into the black, he glanced back at Sarah — playing on the floor. 

“Oh, Miss Ice Cream, you are so silly!”

— — — — 

Outside, Rolland looked at the barren landscape. Now, Rolland saw nothing but dead trees and grey fields. A light layer of ash covered everything, like a fresh snowfall.

At the time, he hadn’t known just how forward thinking his father was. On the night of the announcement, they’d all gathered in the living room after dinner, unsure of what the “big news” was going to be. The room’s reaction was burnt into his memory: The confusion on his mother’s face, the exuberance of his father’s, Sarah’s indifference. Back then, Rolland was head deep in his fifth-grade science book, mesmerized by the idea of what vinegar and baking soda could do when mixed together.

His parents’ conversation still echoed on the hollow plain.

“I’m going to build a shelter, an underground one.”

“And why are you doing that, dear?”

“Because we are going to need one. The global economy is set to collapse, and countries that can will use their strength.” 

“That’s crazy Robert! Remember the Cold War? We already had our scare. There is no way it happens again.”

“It is going to happen,” Rolland’s father said, pushing his spectacles back up his nose, “and we are going to be ready!” With that, he ended the conversation and left the room.

A week later, Rolland and his father began construction.

— — — — 

Rolland moved quickly now, as the early evening was quickly turning into night.

From grey to black.

It was going to be hard for him to see anything, especially something so small.

He came upon a dead patch of trees, and fell to his knees. He searched with his hands along the forest’s ashy floor. Finally, he found a hole, and put his ear to it. At first, he didn’t hear anything, and then, the faint sound of something breathing.

He took his knife and jabbed inside, hitting nothing but the wall of the burrow. Rolland pulled his arm back and thrust again.

Suddenly out dashed a feeble rabbit. Rolland jumped back, caught off-guard by the critter’s quick reaction. Usually, the rabbits coiled in fear. At least, the two he’d caught over the last year acted that way.

The rabbit sat no more than eight feet away, staring at Rolland. Its nose twitched back and forth; its big eyes engulfed Rolland and the dark scenery around him. As Rolland rose to his feet, the rabbit froze for a second, before it dashed across the field. 

Rolland had no chance — even a weak rabbit could outrun him. At the edge of the dead forest he used to play in as a child, he watched the rabbit as it ran. 

Its front paws stretched out, before falling underneath its torso as the hind legs and feet, the larger ones, overtook its stride. Within 10 seconds, the rabbit disappeared from his vision. Looking toward where the horizon used to be, Rolland thought of the sun and its warmth. He thought about the hot summers spent down by the lake, or returning home to the fireplace after playing in the snow. 

Fire … heat … warmth. 

Rolland sighed, and could faintly see his breath. A shiver ran down his spine. He pulled up the hood of his father’s flannel coat, and headed back to the bunker. 

— — — — 

“Did you find anything?” Sarah asked. 

“Not tonight,” Rolland said, “How do you feel about some peaches? 

“That sounds yummy, doesn’t it Miss Ice Cream?” Sarah said. 

Rolland dug in the cupboard, reaching as far back as he could before finding the jar he was looking for. The bunker was once full to the brim with supplies. Now, after some 5 years, shelves were empty and rations were low. 

“Sarah, I don’t know how much longer we can stay here,” Rolland said. “We are running out of food.”

“But, this is our home Rolland. Where else will we go?” Sarah asked. 

Her lip started to quiver. Despite being almost nine years old, she still acted like a small child. 

Rolland learned long ago to not get mad at his sister over this. She was only three years old when everything happened. He was only 12 — by no means an adult. 

“Everything is going to be alright,” Rolland said. He popped open the jar and gave it to Sarah saying, “Here, eat.”

That night, Rolland laid on his cot thinking about what to do. He knew they couldn’t stay in the bunker forever. It was only meant to serve as a home for, at most, three years. Since it was just the two of them, they’d been able to prolong their stay. 

If Rolland had followed his father’s ration plan from the start, maybe they could hold out longer. But his fright outweighed sense early on, and they’d wasted a lot of food. 

Just the thought of that first year made him sick to his stomach. Suddenly, the bunker walls seemed to close in on him. In the darkness, he could feel the air getting thinner. 

I need to get out of here.

He slowly made his way to the ladder, and took his time opening the hatch before slipping outside. 

In the pitch black cold, he sat and thought. His father never told him what to do this far down the line. He never told him anything other than to grab Sarah and get to the bunker. He didn’t know what to do. 

As tears started to stream down his face, Rolland began to cough on the thick air. He looked up to where the stars used to be. His eyes started to wander, until they fixed on a location in the distance. 

Rolland tripped over the bunker hatch. Far off, he saw the white flicker of something he hadn’t seen in years. Not since he was a boy: Fire. And where there was fire, there had to be people. 

They were not alone. 

— — — —  

It had been a week since Rolland saw the flame topside. Suddenly, he couldn’t get enough of the dried food, and passing the time listening to the radio static. Sarah was thrilled to always have her brother around. Rolland even fixed the mic for the radio, something that had been broken for over a year — at least, he thought he had. Without someone to communicate with, he’d never know for sure. 

After two weeks, Rolland was getting restless. He knew he’d have to go out eventually, either to hunt or because they’d run out of food. The bunker was not the long-term answer, something he used to accept without hesitation, but now seemed open for debate. 

The third week, Rolland had proven beyond any reasonable doubt that they could not live in the bunker forever. No matter how he did the math, they’d run out of food within the next two months, at the latest. Verifying something he already knew was the push Rolland needed to get up and do something. 

That evening, he opened the hatch and stuck out his head, looking North in the direction of the white flame. What he saw terrified him: The fire was closer, much closer. Across the field, the small dead forest was flickering to and fro. Somewhere inside of it, the fire now lived. From a small speck to only 200 yards away. 

Rolland nearly had a nervous breakdown. He had prayed that this was all a dream, just his imagination seeing things in the dark, the weird spots and squiggles the eye conjures up. 

The following evening, after putting Sarah to bed, Rolland grabbed his gear and headed out — it was time for some reconnaissance work. Already trembling, he climbed out of the bunker and made the dreaded walk toward the woods. Once again, flickering could be seen, but it was fainter than the previous night.

Maybe they are moving away.

In the pitch black, a flashlight was a vulnerability. Rolland crouched and shuffled across the open field, keeping his hands out in front of him to keep from running into anything. He used the fire as his compass, and slowly made his way toward the edge of the woods. 

Moving through the tree line, the ground ash grew more dense, like the heavy snowfalls Rolland remembered playing in during the winter. This helped muffle his movements, but he still treaded lightly and carefully — the slightest noise could give away his position. 

Ten minutes passed, and the light wasn’t getting any closer. Twenty minutes, and the light was a bit brighter. After walking for almost an hour, Rolland stopped after rounding a thick set of brush to find the light source — a small campfire, in the middle of an opening in the forest. 

Rolland gasped in shock — the flickering was mesmerizing, something he’d forgotten. After collecting himself, he backed up and crawled partway into the brush. His goal was simple — find out who is here, and assess the situation. 

“Rolland, you need to focus,” his father said. “How are you ever going to be ready if you don’t put in the practice now?”

Standing in their backyard, the two Henry men had worked on self defense measures for the last two hours. Rolland was tired, and bored out of his mind. Outside of a few demonstrations, Rolland’s father preferred to spend most of his time on the theoretical side of most subjects — self-defense included. 

“If an assailant comes at you from the side, the easiest maneuver is to shift your weight backward, sidestepping their attack, and using their momentum to carry them straight past you. Once that happens, you now have the advantage,” he said. “Pretty neat, huh?”

“Sounds great, dad … but what does this have to do with anything?”

“Someday you are going to have to defend yourself, and these survival tactics will save your life.” 

“For the past week, all we’ve done is falls and jumping out of the way. I will never use this stuff.”

“Never say never, Rolland. Now think fast!”

Rolland’s father tossed a stick at him, which Rolland wasn’t expecting. It hit him in the side and he let out a slow, tired groan. 

“Rolland, shift your weight and sidestep!” 

There was a rustling across the campsite. Three men emerged from the surrounding woods, and sat down. Rolland froze in place. 

“Well, doesn’t seem to be much of anything around here, definitely nothing worth eating,” one of the men said — tall, slender, with a long brown beard. 

“We’ve been searching this woods for only two days, be patient,” said an older man — over 50 years old based on the whiteness of his hair. 

“Yeah, and that’s two days without so much a sniff,” the tall one snapped back.

“Earl, you have to calm down. Getting all riled up won’t help anything,” the third man said. His voice was much more stern than the old man’s. He stepped past the other two men and took a seat at the fire. His companions followed. He was shorter than Earl, and stockier. He could have been a linebacker in a previous life — maybe he was before the sun was set on fire. 

Earl shook his head in agreement and that was it. After that, no one said a word for some time.

“Girl! Get over here!” yelled the leader. 

Rolland nearly gasped again, as a teenage girl drifted in from the darkness.

“Did you sharpen my extra blade,” the leader said.

“Yes, Sir, I did.” She stared straight down while speaking.

“Let me see.” 

The girl handed him a large knife, the kind almost comical because of its size. The man grabbed it and spat before turning his attention to the small sword in his hand.

“You chipped it,” he barked. “That’s a chip right there!” 

“No, I couldn’t have. I was so careful!” she said, shakingly. “Please, I didn’t chip it. Please!” 

The man stared at her, and then turned to his counterparts and started laughing. 

“Oh I had you!” he said. “Look at her, she looks white as snow!” Earl and the old man slowly began to join in, unsure of the set-up or punchline, or if they were a part of it. 

The girl turned and ran, her head in her hands. 

“Good. We didn’t catch anything, so I can’t give you any food anyway,” the man said.  

Rolland watched her, but it wasn’t long before she was just another blotch of black in the night. The three men at the fire were easy to track — their skin was so pale it shimmered near the firelight. 

“Did I ever tell you two the story about how I got my nickname, ‘El Comanchero’?” asked the old man. 

“Oh God, not this again,” snapped Earl. “Go tell that story to the trees. It’s so full of half truths and no truths, I‘m surprised if anyone has ever called you that name before.” 

“That so too is my nickname, you lanky son of a …”

“Enough!” shouted the man. “I’m sick of hearing both you talk. Either shut it, or I’ll shut it for ya,” he said, while waving his knife in front of them. “There ain’t no food, so no reason for this fire. So get the hell out of here.”

He kicked ash and soot onto the flames, and just like that, the entire world disappeared. Rolland was ready to head home — he’d seen enough. But he’d have to wait till it was safe. And with the fire out, he could walk right into one of these men without knowing he was headed in that direction.

Daybreak, that’s my only chance.

— — — —  

Rolland burst through the front door, unable to contain his excitement. 

“Me. She chose me!” 

He ran through the house, searching for someone, anyone, to share in his joy. Piper Jones, the smartest girl in his grade, had accepted his invitation to the upcoming school dance. 

He paused in the kitchen, listening for evidence of another person in the house. 

The study! 

Rolland tossed his backpack on the counter and strutted down the hall. As his fingertips touched the doorknob, he heard his father from inside. 

“I don’t want to hear it anymore, Carla,” he said. “We both agreed to this strategy, and now it is time.” 

“No you agreed to it by sinking our life savings into a bunker,’ she replied. “I’ve been cleaning up after your decisions ever since. And now this? Pulling the kids out of school?! It’s crazy.”

“Crazy is what we are seeing out there! The Peace Summit completely fell apart. We’ve disbanded from half of our allies. Doomsday could be upon us at any moment. It is time to take charge of the kids, to ensure they are safe and educated.”

“But there are systems in place for those scenarios! How is homeschool the right decision now? We don’t know if anything is going to happen, so why make such a drastic move? And who is going to teach them? I’m at the hospital during the day.”

“I will, of course,” said Robert.

“On top of teaching your courses? Come on Robert, be serious.”

“I won’t have any more courses,” he said. “I tendered my resignation at the university today.”

“You WHAT?!” Carla shouted. 

Outside the door, Rolland heard a stifled scream unlike anything he’d ever heard before. It went on for a long time. 

Carla finally put down the couch pillow, and turned to Robert. Her voice was stilted and calm — and barely hid her rage.

“Fine. You win, Robert. If you want to homeschool the children, go right ahead,” she said. “But I’m done. I can’t take this anymore. When i get home from my shift tonight, I’ll be packing a bag and heading to my sister’s.”

The study door opened without warning, and Rolland’s mother briskly walked by. He turned to say something, but couldn’t find the words. The shock of what he’d just heard was too fresh.

Robert stepped into the hallway, and noticed Rolland slinking to the floor.

“Son! Have I got some great news. Starting tomorrow, you and Sarah will be going to school right here. And I will teach you! There won’t be any need to go back to that school ever again!”

Rolland’s face fell into his hands, and he began to cry. 

— — — —  

“I saw you last night.”

Rolland opened his eyes. The teenage girl was kneeling in front of him. 

“The fire? It was flickering in your eyes. I didn’t know it was you, but it was you. It was flickering right here, and here you are!”

Rolland glanced around. No one else was nearby. There was just enough light to make out the campsite, but actual daylight wasn’t far away.

“What are you doing here? Who are you?”

He grabbed his knife and thrust it in the air. 

“Let me go, or this marks the end for us both,” he said. The knife didn’t stop her. 

“Where did you come from? Are you close by? Do you have people? Can they help me?”

Her eyes started watering. 

“I have to get out of here. These men, they aren’t good people. Can you help me, please?” Tears began to flow down her cheek. 

Rolland’s arm felt heavy, and he lowered the knife. 

“Please don’t cry. I don’t have much, and I don’t have family … well, besides my little sister Sarah,” he said. “We aren’t going to last a whole lot longer where we are. But … ” he paused, hoping some great idea would hit him and save the day … “you are welcome to join us.”

“Oh thank you, thank you!” she cried, forcing herself to tamper down her excitement. “Let me get my things.”

She stood up and slowly crept to the other side of the camp. Rolland was amazed at how quickly she moved, and without making much of — if any — noise. He briefly thought of a world where they could be friends, meeting at the mall or the movies, holding hands. 

“Come on,” she said, shaking Rolland’s shoulder. “Dennis looks like he might wake up, we need to get out of here.”

Rolland jumped to his feet and led the way through the brush. 

Dennis, so that’s his name.

— — — —  

After some time walking, the girl extended Rolland her hand. “Hi, I’m Jessica. Everyone calls me Jess. Or, well, used to at least.”

“Hi Jessica, I’m Rolland.”

They walked through the open field, the campsite a distant memory in the light grey of the morning. Much to Rolland’s surprise, he did most of the talking. 

“… So that was my family. Now it is just me and Sarah,” he said. “She is great, but still acts pretty young. I don’t know how to get her to stop, and she isn’t hurting anybody, so I just let it be.”

Jess was from South Dakota. Her family hit the road after the sun went away, in search of a safe haven. They headed south, believing that a warmer climate made for an ideal spot if such a place existed. 

“What happened to them?” asked Rolland. 

“I don’t really know. We were camping one night on our trip. I went to sleep, and the next morning they were gone,” she said. “So was all their stuff, but the car was still there. I drove it until it ran out of gas, and walked for a week — I think — before Dennis found me.” 

Rolland’s hands balled up into fists. “Who is that guy? What is he doing here?”

“Him and his friends are scavengers. They just move from place to place, looking for something to eat,” she said. “Dennis is mean. He was nice to me at first, and helped me out. But now he just wants me to do things for him, bosses me around.”

She looked at Rolland. His gaze was empathetic. 

“So, where do you and your sister live, anyway? 

“Right here,” he said. 

They both looked down, and nestled in between two small bumps in the field was a hatch door. Jess was shocked. She wouldn’t have seen it and definitely didn’t expect it. 

“Come on in,” Rolland said. “I’ll show you around.”

— — — —  

Rolland dropped the box on the floor and let out a big grunt.

“Easy son,” said his father. “We don’t want those jars to break.” 

He started to unpack the box while Rolland’s mother came down the ladder. 

“Robert, did you find the first-aid kit? I want to ensure the expiration dates are solid.”

“Hmmm, let me see. I think it is around here.”

“We need to check everything — nothing can be left to chance,” she said. “Diligence is the key to survival!!” 

Rolland and his father exchanged looks as his mother sprinted up the ladder. Ever since the first bomb landed in Asia, she’d been completely onboard with dad’s philosophy about life. 

— — — —  

“Here”, Rolland said as he handed Jess a dusty jar. 

Jess stared at it, wiping off the lid — “Pickles … this is like Christmas!”

“I love Christmas!” Sarah screamed. “Do you want to play Christmas with me and Miss Ice Cream?” 

“I’d love to,” Jess chuckled as she patted Sarah on the head, “That is, if it’s okay with your brother.”

“Sure, not a problem,” Rolland responded. 

As Sarah and Jess sat down on a cot, Rolland turned his attention back to their supplies.

Eight large jars … Twelve packs of astronaut food … three 5-gallon jugs of water. 

Adding another person to the mix meant even less time, which meant leaving the bunker even sooner. His last estimate of two months seemed like a luxury now — he figured they had a month tops. 

Where would we go? Rolland thought. 

“Further south!” Carla yelled. “You have to aim your shot on where the target is going, not where it is.”

She pulled the arrow out of the wooden fox, and set it in her quiver. It had just barely lodged in the ear of the beast. 

Rolland sighed. He’d been target practicing with his mother for hours. His hands hurt, his arms felt like wet noodles. 

She walked back to the porch and held out her hand. “Let me show you … again.”

Carla tapped the pedal with her foot, and the backyard came alive with wooden creatures. She pulled an arrow and drew it in her bow, and paused. “Let it come to you,” she said. 

As she released, a rabbit moved past the front bush — directly into her line of sight. The arrow pierced the wooden plank right where the fake rabbit’s heart would be had it been real. 

Rolland watched as his mother hit the fox, the deer, and the squirrel in stride. This next part, he hated the most. Out from behind the tree came a man with a gun. Carla paused once more and looked at him, her bow drawn.

“If you can’t hit the heart, aim for the thigh,” she said. “Hitting the femoral artery is your best chance to survive.”

She released two arrows back to back, hitting the wooden man square in the chest, and in the right leg mid-thigh. 

“A quick bleed-out is as good as hitting the bullseye,” she said. “And the few seconds it’ll get you could be the difference between life and death.”

Carla walked out to reset the rabbit, pulling the arrow out of its heart. 

“Mom,” Rolland said, “Do I really have to practice anymore, especially at hitting some guy? I mean, you and dad — well you — can do all this.”

 His mother paused in the yard, and turned back to him.

“But what if I’m not there? Or your father? Then what?”

Rolland thought hard for a different reply, but couldn’t. “Well, then I guess I’d be on my own.”

“Exactly,” she said walking back toward the porch. 

As she climbed each step, she listed her motto once again.

“Aim where your target is moving to, not where it is … aim for the center … make every shot count … because we are all counting on you.”

Rolland held the bow and quiver of arrows in his hand. 

Bow and arrow … two knives … half a first aid kit. 

He looked over the rest of his go-bag. A random assortment of tools and supplies, most of which weren’t necessary, no longer useful, or plain dumb. 

Why Dad thought a solar-powered lantern would work, or be a good idea, I don’t know. 

He snapped out of his train of thought thanks to Sarah’s laughter. He turned to see Jess holding two pickles in her mouth, like a walrus with its tusks. 

“That’s a nice impression,” he said. “Who are you supposed to be?”

“You!,” Sarah shouted. “She said she could look like you Rolland!”

Jess popped the pickles out of her mouth to speak. “I just wanted to make her laugh.”

Rolland smiled, but his attention was quickly elsewhere — the radio. 

As he walked over to it, the radio’s reception needle began to fluctuate. A faint popping sound was heard, and then the device went dead. 

“Does that work?” asked Jess. 

“I think it does,” Rolland said. “I’ve had to fix it a few times, but I believe it is still functioning.”

Jess approached the radio, but the side of its box caught her eye. 

“I’ve seen this symbol before,” she said pointing to a logo on the box. “Yeah, I’ve definitely seen this before,” she said. “Dennis has one of these. In camp.”

She looked at Rolland in amazement. He returned her gaze.

“Does the one in camp work?” he asked. “If it does, we could use it to boost the signal, and maybe find other people out there.”

 “I think it does,” she said. “I’ve never seen Dennis use it, but I’ve heard that noise it made before in the night. I just didn’t know what it was.”

“Would you be willing to sneak back in camp and get it?” Rolland cringed as he asked. “I’m guessing you don’t want to go back there, but you have the best chance of getting in and out without being noticed.”

Jess sat on the floor, leaning back on the cot. She tossed a pickle in her mouth and sat, chewing and thinking. 

 “We need to make a plan to get out of here and find help and supplies,” Rolland said. “With the three of us, we don’t have much time before we will run out of food. That radio may be our best shot at finding someone, or somewhere, that is safe.”

Jess sighed, and swallowed her second pickle. 

“Rolland, this is an amazing place you have here. Trust me, you don’t want to leave. It is bad out there, and hard,” she said. 

“I know, I don’t want to go,” he said. “But if we don’t, we are going to run out of options pretty quick.”

“The options out there aren’t any better,” she replied. “Going from place to place, looking for anything to eat. Trying to stay out of sight. I mean, come on Rolland, you have pickles!” 

“And those will be gone by the end of the day, the way you’re eating them,” he snapped.

Jess looked away, and slowly put the lid on the jar. 

“I’m sorry,” Rolland said. “That was unfair. I know you are hungry.” 

She straightened up, and looked him dead in the eye. 

“You say with another radio, you can get us to safety?”

“If I have another radio, I can try,” he said. “Without it, we’d just be wandering around in the grey.”

“Well, then I guess I better go get that radio,” she said, standing up. “But first, show me how it works.” 

— — — —  

It was late, so once Rolland showed Jess how to work the radio, they all called it a night. He set out an extra cot — his mom’s — for Jess, said good night to them both, and turned off the electric lamp. 

By the time Rolland woke up that morning, Jess was gone. 

“Where’d she go?” he said in a panic. “Is everyone ok?!”

“She went to get the radio,” Sarah replied, sitting on her cot. “I asked her to bring me a present, I hope she does!”

The receding wave of anxiety Rolland felt was replaced by a typhoon of stress and guilt. 

“She left already?” he shouted. “Without saying goodbye?”

“Jess will be back,” Sarah said. “She said we’d have a tea party when she does.”

“Where are we going?” Rolland asked. A few minutes earlier, his father had burst into his room and started tossing clothes into a suitcase.

“Rolland, this is the moment we’ve prepared for. The time has come for us to head to the shelter, and ride out the remainder of this apocalyptic storm.

“Your mother and I have been watching the radar, and my sources on the radio tell me the seizure of our neighborhood is starting later today. We have worked too hard to let those in power save themselves at our expense!” 

There were rumblings lately that the city police and fire departments were conducting search and seizures around town — taking what they thought could be useful for “district defense”. But really, it is just those with power taking what they wanted.  Rolland didn’t know if it was true — he’d heard lots of ideas and theories on his dad’s radio. 

As Robert hurried him down the stairs, Rolland’s mother came around the corner with Sarah in tow. “They’re coming!” she said. “The Jackson’s just said they were approaching the house at the end of the road.”

“We don’t have time to get everything in place!” Robert said. “If we leave any trace, they will sniff us out and that’ll be the end.”

Robert and Carla looked at each other, before turning to Rolland. Tears welled in his mother’s eyes.

“Son,” Robert said. “Do you remember the caves we used to play explorer in when you were little?”

“Of course dad,” he replied. “Why?”

“I need you to take this suitcase, and Sarah, and run as fast as you can through the woods out back, and to those caves,” his father said. “Your mother and I will meet you there.”

“But Dad, why do we …” 

“Listen to your father,” Carla said. “We will be right behind you. You just need a little bit of a head start, yeah?” 

Robert gave his son the suitcase, and Carla put his hand around Sarah’s.

“We love you,” she said to them both. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. We will see you again soon.”

“Son,” Robert said. “Remember, everything else you need is in the bunker.”

He kissed them both on the forehead, before shouting “Go, go!” 

As Rolland and Sarah ran through the backyard and into the woods, he heard commotion at the house next door. A scream. A gunshot. He couldn’t run fast enough. 

— — — —  

Jess  made her way into camp. Just light enough to make out general shapes, she moved quickly and quietly through the obstacle course that was Earl’s sleeping area. Moving past “El Comanchero” was no trouble at all — his snoring masked any movement or sound known to man. 

At Dennis’ tent, she paused. After taking a deep breath, she slowly opened the front flap, and stepped in. 

Inside, it was much darker. Jess’s eyes needed to adjust. Moving forward, she could make out his cot on the right side, some boxes and objects on the left. She moved toward the objects, and began to feel for the radio. 

She was focused solely on the task at hand. It never dawned on her that she wasn’t the only looking for something. 

— — — —  

Two days had passed since Jess left the bunker, and Rolland was beyond worried. He’d hardly eaten. Hardly slept. At night, he sat out in the black, the cold, waiting for any sign of Jessica. 

Even Sarah was upset. She understood the gravity of what this meant. As she sat on the floor with her toys, she watched Rolland pace back and forth. 

How could I have been so stupid? Sending her out there on her own, asking her to risk her life for a RADIO?! 

He glanced at Sarah. Her eyes watered and he realized he’d been talking aloud. 

“Hey, Sarah,” he said sliding down next to her. “It is going to be OK. Jessica is going to be OK.”

His voice trembled a bit. He couldn’t hide his own insecurities any longer. Sarah put her arms around him, and the two began to softly cry … right as the radio hissed.

“Hello? Rolland, can you hear me?” 

Rolland dashed to the other side of the bunker, throwing his blanket off his cot and sitting down. 

Click 

“Yes! Rolland here. Jessica, is that you? Are you OK? Over!” 

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m so sorry. I tried to get the radio, but Dennis was waiting for me …” Jess’s voice grew faint.

Click

“Jessica, what do you mean? You obviously have the radio now. Where are you? Over!”

 “I’m sorry, I tried to lie. But they knew, they all knew I wasn’t telling the truth. I’m all alone now, they just left me here.”

Click

“What are you saying? What truth? Telling them what?! Are you at their camp?”

The radio hissed once more. Rolland was unsure what to make of it all. Suddenly, Jessica’s voice came through crystal clear, and Rolland’s spine nearly leapt from his body. 

“Rolland … they are coming.”

Most of their “go packs” were already repacked, so it didn’t take long before Rolland had them ready and was following Sarah out the hatch. As he grabbed the first rung of the ladder, and reached out for his dad’s hunting knife … which wasn’t on its hook in the wall. 

Must have put it in my bag already.

Topside, Rolland grabbed Sarah’s hand and they started to run toward the dead tree-line, toward the cave they both knew all too well. Rolland was stunned at how much faster Sarah was. The last time they made this dash, they were both much younger. 

— — — —  

After the gunshot, Rolland couldn’t hear anything other than his frantic breathing and the sound of leaves crushing under his feet. He and Sarah ran until they reached the cave, falling down in a heap just inside the entrance. 

“Don’t worry,” Rolland said. “Mom and Dad will be right here.”

Sarah nodded and held her doll tight. 

Rolland sat back against a cave wall, and looked at his wristwatch. He checked his pulse, to make sure his heart wasn’t beating too fast, and then took three deep breaths to calm himself. 

After 30 minutes, his heart rate had picked up again. 

After an hour, he kissed Sarah on the head, and told her to wait here.

“Where are you going?!” she said. “Mom and Dad said to wait here.”

“I’m just going to check on them. They might need my help with something,” he lied. 

The run back toward the house took 10 times as long. Like in a dream, each step seemed to take him further and further from home. Finally, he broke through the brush just as the flames burst through the second-floor windows. 

Mom … Dad. 

He rushed toward the house, looking for any sign of his parents, any way to get inside. The heat and noise were unbearable. Nothing living inside could remain that way. Rolland was about to put logic aside and jump through the front door when the roof caved in and a backdraft sent him flying across the lawn. 

When he awoke, it was nearly dusk. He scrambled to his feet, saw the smoldering wreckage of his home, and walked toward it. 

Within 10 minutes of searching, Rolland moved a large pile of wood and fell to his knees. There he saw two burnt bodies, both with holes in the front and back of their skulls. 

Once he began to breathe again, and could stand, He started walking back toward the trees, back to Sarah. At the edge of the lawn, he noticed something that made him smile. He bent down and picked up Miss Ice Cream, and jogged back to the cave. 

— — — —  

At the cave, Rolland set down his pack and took Sarah’s hand. She looked up at him, unsure what was coming next. They both were panting from the run.

“Sarah. I have to leave.”

“No Rolland, we need to stay together,” tears started to well in her eyes. 

“I need to see if Jessica is ok. Don’t you want to know if she is alright?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to be alone again.”

“I will be right back. It won’t take long at all …” 

It took half an hour before Sarah was ready for Rolland to leave. He felt awful leaving her. He also felt awful for not being there for Jessica. 

As he ran through the dead forest, his heart throbbed with grief. Sarah … Jessica … his parents. He was so caught up in his thoughts he nearly ran straight out into the open plain. Luckily, an old root caught his foot and he fell just feet from the clearing. 

Looking up, Rolland saw something out of a nightmare: the bunker was on fire. 

— — — —  

Rolland stared at the blaze. He’d never seen a fire so tall before. Then he realized the bunker itself wasn’t on fire, but all the stuff they’d left behind. Someone had tossed it into a pile in the field and lit it. 

Suddenly, two men came around from the other side, laughing. 

“Oh boy, this sure is a new one for us,” screamed Earl. “I can’t believe Dennis wanted to do this today!”

The old man nearly keeled over from laughing, and coughing, without so much of a breath for what seemed to be a minute straight. 

“Earl, this is one for the books,” he said. “I just wish whoever owned this here concrete pit was around to see it. A real shame they missed out on the show!”

He lifted a jug and took a swig from it. His face grimaced and he nearly toppled over — into the fire — from the shock of whatever he’d just ingested. 

Rolland watched. His shock quickly turned to anger, which turned to a white-hot rage inside his chest. He grabbed his bow from his backpack, and pulled an arrow from his makeshift quiver. He desperately wanted to let one loose, or all of them, at the two men. In his fury, he almost did — until Dennis walked out of the smoke with Jess at his side. 

‘Well boys, look who came crawling back?!” he shouted with an unexpected vigor and energy. He seemed, almost giddy now. Much different than the tense and cold man he was the other night. 

The old man and Earl cat-called and added a few insults. Earl made a few gestures and the old man started dancing around in a circle. 

Rolland lowered his bow, knowing he couldn’t hit all three of them from this distance. In fact, he wasn’t sure if he could hit any of them from this far away. If he was going to rescue Jess, and bring an end to this gang of awful men, he’d need a plan. 

Nightfall, he thought.

If I did it once, I can do it again. At night, when they are all passed out and won’t expect it. That’s when I take them down. 

— — — —  

The last few hours of daylight were excruciating. Lying on his stomach, Rolland watched the men and Jess at the campfire: Dennis barking orders. The old man talking nonsense, drinking from his jug. Earl kept walking past Jess. Her response was one of revulsion. 

Finally, the grey sky turned to black. The field flickered with flashes of color from the fire. With each second of the light departing the sky, Rolland’s resolve strengthened. Each minute that passed, he now felt he could wait longer, could hold out for the right moment, the right time to strike. 

An hour passed, maybe two, before the old man got up from his blanket and walked toward the woods, directly at Rolland. He came within 25 feet of the forest, and paused. 

Rolland’s heart jumped. For a brief second, it seemed the man was looking right at him. Then, he sniffed and scratched himself, before turning left and walking toward a cluster of dead trees. 

The man stopped, and began to unzip his pants, when suddenly a sharp, hot pain rang out through his right leg. He looked down, and saw an arrow sticking out of his thigh. Blood was gushing out of the wound, as if someone were pumping his leg like a well. 

The old man turned and his chest began to expand, preparing for the loud scream to shortly follow. It never came, as another arrow found his neck. A gargle was the best he could hope for, and within two minutes, he was no longer moving. 

Rolland turned his attention back to the fire. He could see where Earl lay on his mat. Dennis had taken Jess to the other side of the fire, which still burned too high for him to see through. He got to his feet, and quickly moved along the forest line toward the old man. 

He stopped a few feet away. That’s as close as he needed to get. The old man was no longer part of the equation.

Rolland moved toward the fire. Low and fast, he was there within a minute. 

— — — —  

The fire — despite being smaller than it was earlier in the day — still roared. Rolland approached Earl, who laid on his blanket near the fire, his head facing straight up. 

Rolland closed in, and took out another arrow. He strung it and pulled back, nearly standing directly over the tall nomad. He was about to release the bow when the man’s eyes darted open. Before Rolland could react, his right leg came swinging upward into Rolland’s chest, knocking him to the ground. 

Earl quickly rolled on top of Rolland, and put his hands around the boys throat. 

“Well, well,” Earl said. “Are you the one that’s been helping our sweet little servant girl?” 

His hands were already squeezing tighter and tighter, and Rolland knew he didn’t have much time before he would — at best — pass out. 

Rolland’s arms flailed erratically, as he desperately tried to escape, to somehow break free. Back and forth, back and forth, his arms flung out violently, all the while Earl’s hands closed in. 

His lungs started to burn, begging for oxygen, when Rolland’s wrist hit something in the dirt. He moved his arm back and forth once more, and it hit something in the same spot. He turned his arm over, and grasping with his fingers, took hold of the softball-sized rock that was nearly buried in the light topsoil. 

Without hesitation, he put all his remaining energy into raising his arm and crashing the rock across Earl’s temple. 

Earl thudded to the ground, and both he and Rolland laid on the ground, gasping. Roland remembered what his mother had said, and did his best to take slow, deep breaths to stabilize himself quicker. 

His counterpart, clearly dizzy or concussed from the hit, sat up and looked around in a frenzy. 

Earl turned just in time to see Rolland’s hand holding the rock in his peripheral. With one more hit, he dropped to the ground. 

A few minutes passed before Rolland got his breathing under control. He picked up his bow, and noticed it didn’t feel as taut as it did before. He looked down, and his heart sank. The string was broke. 

He re-tied it, knowing it wouldn’t hold. The fire continued to roar, but it didn’t bother Rolland. It drowned everything out, but in turn he could eliminate the fire from his mind.

In the dead silence, he heard the faintest scream in the distance. 

— — — —  

Jessica and Dennis were nowhere to be seen. Rolland stood as still and calm as possible, practicing the breathing exercises his dad had taught him. When he opened his eyes, his focus drew him to the ground. He searched around the fire. Finally, he found tracks in the dirt and ash.

I can do this. 

He set off into the pitch black, away from the fire, away from the old man and Earl. 

It was nearly dawn before he noticed the tracks changed. Instead of two sets of footprints, now he saw one — and occasionally a second set or a skid this way or that, as if someone was being carried, but low enough to the ground to hit it. 

Deeper into the woods he moved swiftly and silently, not allowing his racing heart to get the best of him. Rolland turned down a small trench on the side of a hill and through some brush. Halfway down, his left foot hit loose soil, and he slid the rest of the way.

Quiet! 

He froze, and for a minute, he heard nothing. He could almost make out his surroundings by now — the hidden sun rising high enough behind the blanket of grey across the sky. He let out a deep sigh of relief. 

And that’s when he heard a twig snap behind him. 

Rolland spun around, just barely in time. The tree limb Dennis swung at him caught just enough of his shoulder to lessen the blow to his head. He toppled head over heels and rolled out of the trench and into the small valley at its base. 

“Well, well, well,” Dennis said, “look what we have here!” 

Rolland was dazed, but awake. Had he been a second later, the branch would have landed squarely on the side of his face, and he’d be done for. 

“You been following me, boy?” 

Rolland looked up.

“Where’s Jessica?”

“Jess … Jessica,” Dennis cocked his head. “You mean the girl? Damn boy, I never bothered with that. Didn’t want to get too attached, if you know what I mean.”

Rolland staggered to his feet. “Where is she?!”

“OK, OK,” Dennis shrugged. “She’s right over there. Had to tie her up to shut her up.”

Rolland glanced across the forest floor. Laying on her side, trying to wiggle free like a worm, was Jessica. 

Tied up, but alive! 

“As for you … BOY! I don’t think I like you tracking me and my men. I saw you fighting with Earl. Since you’re here now, I’m guessing he ain’t,” Dennis scoffed. “Stupid Earl. No-good shit-kicker.”

Dennis began to move to his left. 

“But still, he was part of my gang, my new family in this god-forsaken world. You killed him, and I don’t much like boys killing my men,” Dennis said, taking out his long knife.

“And for that, you gotta die.”

He lunged toward Rolland, who dodged backward to avoid the blade. Dennis’ right foot slipped, and he fell to one knee — a lucky move Rolland took advantage of. He pulled out an arrow and shoved it into Dennis’ leg. 

The man howled, but his response was faster than Rolland — who was standing too close after stabbing the gang leader — had expected. Dennis punched him right in the gut, knocking all the air from his body. He fell to his side, once again struggling to breathe. 

Dennis stood, and hobbled toward Rolland, his large knife in his right hand. As he neared, he drew his knife in the air, ready to deliver the final blow. Rolland rolled over, and looked to his right. As Dennis brought his knife forward, he thought he noticed a small smile on Rolland’s face. 

It wasn’t until Jessica tackled him from the side that he’d realized it. But sure enough, the boy had smirked at him. His anger and rage spiked tenfold, and he easily grabbed Jessica by the hair. He stood up, and then pulled her up and put his arm around her neck. 

“You little bitch!” he said. “I fed you. I protected you. I gave you a home!” 

“Some home,” she said. “Always worried about what you, or Earl, might do to me. Being belittled for no reason other than because I am the smallest.” 

By now, Rolland had caught his breath and bearings. While Dennis was preoccupied with Jessica, he thought through his supplies. That’s when he realized his bow was sitting no more than 10 feet away. 

He crawled to it and stood to face Dennis, with Jessica in between them both. 

The man started laughing as Rolland turned toward him, holding his bow and one almost broken arrow.

“What are you going to do with that? Dennis said. “That arrow is about to break in half. Plus, I got your little girlfriend right here.”

He squeezed his arm around Jess tighter. She tried to pry his arm away, but couldn’t. Rolland watched as her face got redder and redder.

“That’s enough!” he said. “Don’t hurt her. Please.”

Dennis began to roar, his laughter filling the grey air. The forest floor of ash seemed to vibrate with every cackle. 

“Boy, you sure got some surprises in you,” he said. “I’ll give you that.”

As Dennis talked, Rolland looked at Jessica. Despite being held in a headlock, her face appeared to be calm. It was obvious that she was taking slow, shallow breaths. Her left hand gently fell to her side, but not because she was passing out.

No, as they made eye contact, Jessica slowly pulled something out of her sweater pocket: Rolland’s father’s hunting knife. 

“But you can grovel all you like,” Dennis continued, “Won’t change what’s about to happen. Neither of you are leaving here alive. I’ve got the upper hand. I’m going to kill your girlfriend here, and then I’m going to cut me some fillets ‘o’ boy for supper.”

Dennis started to raise his knife when Jessica lifted her’s, and sliced deep into Dennis’ left tricep and armpit. His arm immediately went limp as he screamed out in agony. Rolland drew his bow to make the final shot, but the string immediately snapped. 

Without hesitation, he charged forward and swung it across Dennis’ face, dropping the drifter where he stood. 

Jess let out a scream of her own, a stress-relieving, therapeutic howl, as she fell to her knees and drove the knife into the back of Dennis’ neck. 

Her scream quickly died down, only to be replaced by uncontrollable sobbing. Rolland knelt down and put his arm around her. It was a while before he helped her get to her feet, and the two walked up the small trench, out of the valley. 

— — — —  

When he returned to the cave with Jessica, Sarah was ecstatic. Miss Ice Cream was too. They gathered their belongings, and returned to the bunker. Jessica scavenged, but found nothing of use. They backtracked to where Dennis and his gang had left their equipment. 

And there, Rolland found the radio Jessica had gone off to retrieve. 

With the bunker destroyed, the cave was the best shelter they could muster. It was getting colder now — the seasons were changing. Before long, the air would thicken. The “daylight” would barely reach above dim. 

It took him a few days to make the modifications — the ones he thought he needed to make — to boost the radio frequency and signal. 

With Jess and Sarah at his side, he held his breath, and flipped the power switch. 

The radio hissed, and Rolland slowly began to turn the frequency dial. He scanned the entire spectrum once, twice. 

Nothing. 

“Try it again,” Jessica said. She placed her hand on his shoulder, which immediately lowered Rolland’s anxiety. He began scanning the frequencies again. 

Oddly enough, it was Sarah who first heard the discrepancy.

“Rolland!” she shouted. “Did you hear that? Go back, go back!”

Rolland paused, looking at Jessica. 

“There’s nothing, Sarah. If you heard something, it is just in your head.”

“No, Rolland. I heard it. A man, he was talking.” she was shaking with excitement. 

Rolland moved the dial back so slowly, he wasn’t sure if he was even rotating the scanner. 

Static … Static … Static.

“ … you are not alone. We are here. We can help.”

The voice came as such a shock that both Rolland and Jess jumped backward, almost knocking the radio over.

“This is an emergency broadcast channel. Sanctuary camps have been set up in Plymouth, Victoria, San Angelo, and Warwick. We have food. We have shelter. We have medicine.”

Rolland thought he was going to pass out, or puke, or both. As he sat there listening to the message, his vision blurred and the tears started running down his cheek. He pulled Sarah in tight, and hugged her like he’d never hugged her before.

“ … you are not alone. We are here. We can help.” the recording finished again, before starting over from the beginning. 

“Are any of those cities nearby?” Jessica asked. “We’d been moving for months, so I don’t know where we are, or any of those places.”

“San Angela isn’t too far,” Rolland said. “We could make it there within a week, I bet.” 

The following morning, Rolland, Sarah, and Jessica packed their small set of belongings, and walked back through the dead forest and to the adjacent road. 

Standing on the ash-grey asphalt, Sarah and Jessica looked toward Rolland. He paused a moment, and then turned them south.