Revival (Prologue)



  Revival (Prologue)

  by Trynda E. Adair

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Copyright

  Content

  Revival (Prologue)

  Visit the author’s website at www.authortryndaadair.ca

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by Canadian copyright law. For permissions contact:

  [email protected]

  Cover by Trynda Adair

  Ebook ISBN: 978-0-9879579-0-0

  “Mommy.” I pulled at her. Her dress was soft in my hand.

  “Mommy.”

  She turned to me, surprised I was standing there. “What is it Sweetie?”

  I stepped away and looked up at her tanned face. The skin around her eyes crinkled happily as her cheeks lifted when she smiled.

  “Can I go outside and play?”

  Her smile was bright and warmed me throughout. She singled out a washed strawberry and placed it in my waiting hand. “Not right now dear. Why don't you go watch T.V. with your grandmother?”

  I felt the scowl grow over my face. I took an angry bite out of the ripe strawberry. “I don't want to watch TV with Grandma. She's watching the bad show.”

  My mother dried her hands, gently took my hand and led me into the bright living room. The large room was always warm from the afternoon sun shining through the picture window.

  “Mom, I thought I said no news around Abigail. She doesn't need to hear any of this.”

  “Shh, Celeste, something's about to happen. Pay attention.” My mother slowly sank down onto the soft couch, my hand fell to my side when her grip released. I watched my mother and grandma sit, intensely listening to the voice on the T.V. In my grandma's hand was her rosary. She clutched it so tightly her fingers turned white while she mumbled to herself.

  I sat at the window quietly like always, as the other kids played outside. It wasn’t fair. I wanted to go play with them.

  In the sky airplanes were flying towards the small house I was forced to stay in.

  “Outside the United Nations, protestors are rioting in regards to the peace

  assembly; where a peace treaty is being discussed to end ground conflict around the world. Seven casualties have been reported at this time. Twelve arrests have been made by police. In light –”

  In the distance, planes started dropping things onto the city. Looking higher up into the sky I saw long white streaks falling towards the ground.

  “Look Mommy look! There are streamers in the sky, and air planes are dropping presents. Who's birthday is it Mommy?”

  My mother and grandma jumped up and rushed to the window. The airplanes got closer. As they approached the ground shook more and more.

  “We interrupt this broadcast to report an incoming attack. Seek shelter immediately. Stay away from all –”

  Sirens began to wail making me want to cover my ears.

  “Quickly, into the shelter,” my grandma whispered. My mother picked me up in her arms and rushed to the basement. Over my mother's shoulder I could see the horizon growing brighter and brighter with every passing second.

  “Mommy, why is the sky turning white?” My mother did not turn to look, she headed straight downstairs. She kicked aside an empty box uncovering a wooden door built into the floor. Lifting the door, she rushed down the long set of stairs through an even larger door into a huge cement room. My mother pushed me into the room and turned back towards my grandma to help her down the stairs, but she was already waiting at the door. The bright light quickly crept down the stairs as she slammed the door in my mother's face, securing it soundly from the other side.

  “Mommy, what's going on?”

  A massive shudder threw us off our feet, into the wall behind us. I fell to the ground trying to catch my breath after it had been forced from my body. The lights flickered, went out and everything became still.

  It began with what was to be the last war, World War III. The war had been short; only a few months at the most, but I guess that's what happens when all the soldiers are vaporized by a handful of nuclear bombs.

  “Abigail, get up.” I rolled over in my bed, pulling the sheet over my head, keeping the light out. “Abigail!”

  “I'm up, I'm up.” Angrily I threw back the covers and pulled on a sweater sitting beside my bed.

  “Alright, hurry up. There’s a lot to do today.”

  Lots to do? What was there to do that couldn't be done later.

  “I have all the time in the world in this hell hole. What’s so important that it has to be done right now?” I knew as soon as the words left my mouth I would be in for it. My mother’s head appeared around the door to my room.

  “Don't you dare talk like that young lady. Your grandmother gave everything she had to keep us alive.”

  “How could I forget, you remind me every day.”

  “Yes, because you should be thankful for her sacrifice.”

  Ha, yeah, I should be thankful my grandmother spent her life being paranoid and making this stupid bomb shelter. So because of her I’ve been trapped down here for eleven years, waiting for the day I get to go back; where radioactive zombies wait to eat my brains, so yeah I'm thankful alright.

  Sitting on the kitchen table in the next room was a cupcake topped with the same melted pink and white candle like always. My mother lit the candle as I collapsed tiredly into the chair.

  “Happy sweet sixteen.” My mother quickly kissed my temple as I blew out the candle slowly burning towards the vanilla icing. She grabbed a box wrapped in reflective silver paper and placed it where the cupcake had been.

  “A present?” I never got any presents on my birthday, just a stupid cupcake.

  “Go on, open it” Her smile grew slowly as I carefully peeled the paper away from the cardboard box – my excitement quickly growing with every rip of the paper.

  “What is it?” At the bottom of the dark box was a plastic triangular thing attached to two short cylinders. What kind of birthday present was this? I didn't even know what it was.

  “It's a respirator mask.”

  I slowly lifted the contraption out of the box and found that it had two elastic straps attached to the back. I guess it was better than nothing, but I wasn't sure if it was a good gift or not.

  “What's it for?” She took the mask from me to loosen the straps enough to fit easily over my head.

  “It's for when we go outside.”

  I could feel the smile grow over my lips.

  “Happy birthday, Abigail.” She gave me a tight hug and handed the mask back to me.

  “When are we going?”

  My mother walked to the kitchen and started to clean up from her breakfast.

  “Well, after you brush your hair and eat breakfast, we'll go then. How does that sound?”

  I ran to my room to start getting ready to go outside the door, outside of this stupid hole in the ground.

  The morning passed quickly as I rushed through my routine: taking a short shower, brushing my hair into a tight pony tail and finally sitting down to eat. My mother put two pieces of stale toast from last week on a plate with a few pieces of freeze dried bacon she had brought back to life with our reused water. And like always, the disgusting vitamins.

  “You’re going to get an upset stomach from eating your food so fast.” She said as she watched me swallow my food almost whole.

&
nbsp; “I don't care, I just want to go.” The toast hadn't tasted like anything, but the bacon luckily still had some of its flavour. Even if it was like chewing on wet cardboard.

  My mother smiled and placed a backpack in front of me on the table after she took my plate away.

  “We will, don't worry” I pulled the bag closer and began to rummage through its contents, ignoring what my mother was doing momentarily.

  “What's all this stuff?” I peered down into the seemingly bottomless backpack.

  “Supplies. Some bottles of water, a set of goggles, shotgun shells, pistol rounds and a sweater. So we have everything we might need when we go outside.” I dug to the bottom of the backpack to pull out a heavy package of shotgun ammunition, turning it over in my hand slowly trying to figure out why we would need guns.

  “What do we need guns for?”

  My mother set a large shotgun along with a small pistol that sat comfortably in a leather holster on the table. The small gun was surprisingly heavy in my hand when I hesitantly picked it up from the table.

  “Not sure. I don't know what's going to be up there, so we’re going to have a shotgun and pistol to defend ourselves.” She carefully took the pistol from its holder and turned it so I could see the side of it. “This is the safety. You have to switch this off before you can fire the gun. Before it goes back in the holster make sure the safety is back on. Remember that.”

  Safety off to shoot gun, safety on to put in holster. In my rising excitement I drilled the words into my head, making sure to remember the small switch on the side of the gun.

  “Safety on and off. Got