No Shelter (#1) A Post-Apocalyptic Love Story, Page 2
T.S. Welti
CHAPTER 2
Two years have passed since my mother burned to cinders in the ruins of Whitmore High School. Two years since Isaac saved my life. Two years living in caves in what used to be the Angeles National Forest. Two years of hunting in the forest and bartering for food and water at the trading post. Two years and two brushes with starvation later we’re still running from Vic.
With the promise of shelter, security, and a never-ending supply of food and water—and a convincing arsenal of automatic weapons—the Guardians have recruited a few hundred more soldiers in California and thousands more across the country. They are the new government, which operates more like the mob and exists solely to serve itself. The tales of their spread come to us mostly through the trading post.
Without automatic weapons or easily broken promises, Isaac and I have managed to recruit two more members to our tribe: Eve and Mary. Mary likes to call us the Guardians of the Guardians. Isaac thinks it’s corny, but I think it’s a pretty accurate description of who we’ve become.
“Throw me that rope, please,” Eve calls out to me from the back of the cave where she’s been twisting her long, black hair around a small blade for hours. Even when she’s thinking up new and sinister ways to entrap unsuspecting game, Eve never forgets to say please and thank you.
I grab the coiled rope and toss it to her. While Eve is good at trapping animals, I’ve gotten even better at murdering them with my bare hands. All the ballet classes my mom forced me to take before the storms are finally paying off. My ability to walk softly and twist my body into impossible positions means I can hide anywhere without making a sound. The element of surprise means everything in the wild.
I killed my first cougar three weeks ago. True, it was only a teenager, and I didn’t make it out of the encounter totally unscathed, but I give myself wilderness points for mastering such an awesome predator. The experience had me on an adrenaline high for days and the four of us feasted on smoked cougar jerky for weeks. Not the tastiest culinary invention, but it’s packed with protein.
Mary snatches the blade from Eve and throws it at a wooden target in the corner of the cave.
“Can you please stop doing that?” Eve says much too politely.
“I have to have mah knife skills ready in case the Guardians come back,” Mary replies, as she pulls the knife out of the target and drops it on the floor where Eve sits cross-legged.
When the Guardians aren’t relaxing in lounge chairs on the beach of their Salton Sea compound with their guns resting on their fat bellies, they’re bullying the vendors at the trading post or raiding hideouts. They’ve raided our cave twice in the last two months. At least we know Vic had nothing to do with either of these raids. If it were Vic, he’d have found a way to haul off the four barrels of water we have buried to ensure we were left with nothing.
“You did it again,” Isaac says to Mary as he pokes the fire with a small twig.
Mary stares at him with a note of panic in her brown eyes. Her hand twitches as she tries not to cover her mouth the way she always does when she mispronounces something.
“You have to learn to say my not mah,” Isaac says, and I can hear the irritation in his voice. “It’s been eight months. You should be rid of that stupid habit by now. You might as well wear a red armband.”
The country has been divided into four sectors. Each sector is distinguished by their accents and mannerisms. Eight months ago, Mary made it here from Georgia, which is now part of the Southern Sector. The only Southerners who can roam free in the Western Sector without the risk of being killed are the Guardians. Southern Sector Guardians wear red armbands to distinguish themselves from the Western and Eastern Sector Guardians.
Mary takes a seat next to Eve and reaches for the knife again. Eve snatches it up quickly and tucks it behind her back. Mary leans against the wall of the cave and pulls her honeyed curls away from her face. The scars on the undersides of her forearms are barely visible in the dim light of the fire.
Isaac’s criticism has the power to send Mary into a spiraling despair and, when she’s in a tailspin, I’ve caught her using her carving skills on herself.
I glare at Isaac from across the fire. “You don’t have to be such a jerk about it.”
Isaac rolls his eyes as he springs to his feet and leaves the cave. I follow right behind him.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says before I can even say a word.
I grab his arm and pull him back toward the cave. “You can’t leave without a torch.”
He looks me in the eye and for a moment the hardness in his eyes wavers.
“Please don’t leave without a torch,” I say a bit more gently.
Isaac can be moody sometimes, but he knows me better than anyone. I can’t lose him.
“Come with me,” he pleads.
He holds out his hand and I take it. His hand is warm from tending the fire and it completely envelops my hand like a giant holding a sparrow. We walk for a few minutes in silence with nothing but the moonlight illuminating the forest.
“Want to go to our spot?” he asks.
Before Mary came along eight months ago, Isaac and I used to spend hours sitting and talking with our feet dangling over the cliffs. I nod and let him lead me away.
The Moon over the ocean mesmerizes me. Isaac helps me sit down so I don’t slip. The grass on the edge of the cliff crunches beneath us. Isaac scoots toward me and pulls me closer. I rest my head in the crook of his neck and I feel as if I’ve gone back in time.
“I miss this,” I whisper.
“Me, too,” he says then plants a soft kiss on my forehead.
My stomach flutters with nerves and I hope the usual growls of hunger don’t kick in again and ruin this moment. As this thought enters my mind, Isaac’s stomach gives a loud rumble. We chuckle and sit in silence for a while.
I wake to find myself in Isaac’s arms as we lay near the edge of the cliff. A peach sun is rising behind us. I want to wake him up but I don’t want to startle him and send him careening off the cliff. I latch onto his arm with one hand and softly brush the hair out of his face with my other hand.
His eyes flutter open and he smiles. “Good morning, beautiful.”
“Be careful getting up. You’re pretty close to the edge.”
He stands with ease and I immediately start back toward the cave. He grabs my hand to stop me.
“Let’s get out of here. Let’s go it alone again.”
This is the second time this week Isaac has suggested we ditch Eve and Mary.
“I can’t.”
“Why?” he says. “They got along fine before us.”
“You call being nearly beaten to death by grave robbers getting along fine?” I say, referring to the state we found Eve in. Her mother died two months ago and she had been sleeping on top of her mother’s grave for a week before grave robbers assaulted her.
“Come on, she knows how to take care of herself now. And she has Mary. Together they’re lethal.”
Isaac is right, but I can’t leave them. We’re a team. We need them as much as they need us.
Isaac can see the doubt in my eyes and he pulls me closer wrapping his arms around me. I bury my face in the collar of his jacket and breathe the scent of pine and wood smoke.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
He sighs with frustration and kisses my forehead before he lets me go. “I know, but I had to try.”
This time my stomach rumbles as we trek back to the cave. The loud crunch of a twig cracking behind us stops us in our tracks. It can only be one of three things in these woods: a bear, a cougar, or a Guardian.
Isaac glances at me from the corner of his eye. He wants me to run. We’re only a hundred yards from the cave. I shake my head ever so slightly. I can ward off large predators better than Isaac. There is no way I’m leaving him to fight alone.
I try to steady my breathing and stand as straight as possible. I’m not tall, I’m almost half Isaac’s size, but my only chanc
e of surviving an attack is to make myself appear as large as possible. Before I can even turn around to face our predator, Isaac shoves me sideways.
For a brief moment, I fear Isaac has just offered me up as bait to the animal to save himself. But as my foot slips and I tumble backward I realize he’s pushed me into a hole.
My fingers slash the air trying to grasp onto a branch as I fall. My back crashes into the floor of the ditch and knocks the air out of my lungs. I cough as I scramble to my feet and attempt to climb out of the hole, which I now see is at least six feet taller than me. This must be one of Eve’s traps. Isaac helped her dig them weeks ago.
I can hear the guttural snarls of a cougar above me as leaves and pine needles continue to rain on my head. I want to shout and curse at Isaac for what he’s done, but I don’t want to anger the cougar or distract Isaac. I’m trapped and helpless; two things I haven’t felt since Whitmore.
The image of my mother’s charred body flashes in my mind. I curl up at the bottom of the ditch and close my eyes as I try to block out the pictures. My body is floating as the Earth sways beneath me.
I stick my head between my knees and try to block all thoughts of my mother. I try to focus on what needs to be done.
What needs to be done?
I’m stuck in a ditch with no way out and my best friend is about to be killed. The roaring in my ears revs angrily. I clench my jaw and my hands start to go numb. I’m not breathing.
I suck in a deep breath and the sound of Isaac’s screams pierce my consciousness. I open my eyes and my chest hurts from the frantic pounding of my heart. I get to my feet and search the rough earthen walls of this animal trap. There has to be a tree root I can use to boost myself up.
My fingers claw at the soft dirt searching and digging. The screaming stops.
Everything stops. My breath, my heartbeat, my world. Gone again.
Two years have passed since my mother burned to cinders in the ruins of Whitmore High School. Two years since Isaac saved my life. Two years living in caves in what used to be the Angeles National Forest. Two years of hunting in the forest and bartering for food and water at the trading post. Two years and two brushes with starvation later we’re still running from Vic.
With the promise of shelter, security, and a never-ending supply of food and water—and a convincing arsenal of automatic weapons—the Guardians have recruited a few hundred more soldiers in California and thousands more across the country. They are the new government, which operates more like the mob and exists solely to serve itself. The tales of their spread come to us mostly through the trading post.
Without automatic weapons or easily broken promises, Isaac and I have managed to recruit two more members to our tribe: Eve and Mary. Mary likes to call us the Guardians of the Guardians. Isaac thinks it’s corny, but I think it’s a pretty accurate description of who we’ve become.
“Throw me that rope, please,” Eve calls out to me from the back of the cave where she’s been twisting her long, black hair around a small blade for hours. Even when she’s thinking up new and sinister ways to entrap unsuspecting game, Eve never forgets to say please and thank you.
I grab the coiled rope and toss it to her. While Eve is good at trapping animals, I’ve gotten even better at murdering them with my bare hands. All the ballet classes my mom forced me to take before the storms are finally paying off. My ability to walk softly and twist my body into impossible positions means I can hide anywhere without making a sound. The element of surprise means everything in the wild.
I killed my first cougar three weeks ago. True, it was only a teenager, and I didn’t make it out of the encounter totally unscathed, but I give myself wilderness points for mastering such an awesome predator. The experience had me on an adrenaline high for days and the four of us feasted on smoked cougar jerky for weeks. Not the tastiest culinary invention, but it’s packed with protein.
Mary snatches the blade from Eve and throws it at a wooden target in the corner of the cave.
“Can you please stop doing that?” Eve says much too politely.
“I have to have mah knife skills ready in case the Guardians come back,” Mary replies, as she pulls the knife out of the target and drops it on the floor where Eve sits cross-legged.
When the Guardians aren’t relaxing in lounge chairs on the beach of their Salton Sea compound with their guns resting on their fat bellies, they’re bullying the vendors at the trading post or raiding hideouts. They’ve raided our cave twice in the last two months. At least we know Vic had nothing to do with either of these raids. If it were Vic, he’d have found a way to haul off the four barrels of water we have buried to ensure we were left with nothing.
“You did it again,” Isaac says to Mary as he pokes the fire with a small twig.
Mary stares at him with a note of panic in her brown eyes. Her hand twitches as she tries not to cover her mouth the way she always does when she mispronounces something.
“You have to learn to say my not mah,” Isaac says, and I can hear the irritation in his voice. “It’s been eight months. You should be rid of that stupid habit by now. You might as well wear a red armband.”
The country has been divided into four sectors. Each sector is distinguished by their accents and mannerisms. Eight months ago, Mary made it here from Georgia, which is now part of the Southern Sector. The only Southerners who can roam free in the Western Sector without the risk of being killed are the Guardians. Southern Sector Guardians wear red armbands to distinguish themselves from the Western and Eastern Sector Guardians.
Mary takes a seat next to Eve and reaches for the knife again. Eve snatches it up quickly and tucks it behind her back. Mary leans against the wall of the cave and pulls her honeyed curls away from her face. The scars on the undersides of her forearms are barely visible in the dim light of the fire.
Isaac’s criticism has the power to send Mary into a spiraling despair and, when she’s in a tailspin, I’ve caught her using her carving skills on herself.
I glare at Isaac from across the fire. “You don’t have to be such a jerk about it.”
Isaac rolls his eyes as he springs to his feet and leaves the cave. I follow right behind him.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says before I can even say a word.
I grab his arm and pull him back toward the cave. “You can’t leave without a torch.”
He looks me in the eye and for a moment the hardness in his eyes wavers.
“Please don’t leave without a torch,” I say a bit more gently.
Isaac can be moody sometimes, but he knows me better than anyone. I can’t lose him.
“Come with me,” he pleads.
He holds out his hand and I take it. His hand is warm from tending the fire and it completely envelops my hand like a giant holding a sparrow. We walk for a few minutes in silence with nothing but the moonlight illuminating the forest.
“Want to go to our spot?” he asks.
Before Mary came along eight months ago, Isaac and I used to spend hours sitting and talking with our feet dangling over the cliffs. I nod and let him lead me away.
The Moon over the ocean mesmerizes me. Isaac helps me sit down so I don’t slip. The grass on the edge of the cliff crunches beneath us. Isaac scoots toward me and pulls me closer. I rest my head in the crook of his neck and I feel as if I’ve gone back in time.
“I miss this,” I whisper.
“Me, too,” he says then plants a soft kiss on my forehead.
My stomach flutters with nerves and I hope the usual growls of hunger don’t kick in again and ruin this moment. As this thought enters my mind, Isaac’s stomach gives a loud rumble. We chuckle and sit in silence for a while.
I wake to find myself in Isaac’s arms as we lay near the edge of the cliff. A peach sun is rising behind us. I want to wake him up but I don’t want to startle him and send him careening off the cliff. I latch onto his arm with one hand and softly brush the hair out of his face with my other hand.
His eyes flutter open and he smiles. “Good morning, beautiful.”
“Be careful getting up. You’re pretty close to the edge.”
He stands with ease and I immediately start back toward the cave. He grabs my hand to stop me.
“Let’s get out of here. Let’s go it alone again.”
This is the second time this week Isaac has suggested we ditch Eve and Mary.
“I can’t.”
“Why?” he says. “They got along fine before us.”
“You call being nearly beaten to death by grave robbers getting along fine?” I say, referring to the state we found Eve in. Her mother died two months ago and she had been sleeping on top of her mother’s grave for a week before grave robbers assaulted her.
“Come on, she knows how to take care of herself now. And she has Mary. Together they’re lethal.”
Isaac is right, but I can’t leave them. We’re a team. We need them as much as they need us.
Isaac can see the doubt in my eyes and he pulls me closer wrapping his arms around me. I bury my face in the collar of his jacket and breathe the scent of pine and wood smoke.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
He sighs with frustration and kisses my forehead before he lets me go. “I know, but I had to try.”
This time my stomach rumbles as we trek back to the cave. The loud crunch of a twig cracking behind us stops us in our tracks. It can only be one of three things in these woods: a bear, a cougar, or a Guardian.
Isaac glances at me from the corner of his eye. He wants me to run. We’re only a hundred yards from the cave. I shake my head ever so slightly. I can ward off large predators better than Isaac. There is no way I’m leaving him to fight alone.
I try to steady my breathing and stand as straight as possible. I’m not tall, I’m almost half Isaac’s size, but my only chanc
e of surviving an attack is to make myself appear as large as possible. Before I can even turn around to face our predator, Isaac shoves me sideways.
For a brief moment, I fear Isaac has just offered me up as bait to the animal to save himself. But as my foot slips and I tumble backward I realize he’s pushed me into a hole.
My fingers slash the air trying to grasp onto a branch as I fall. My back crashes into the floor of the ditch and knocks the air out of my lungs. I cough as I scramble to my feet and attempt to climb out of the hole, which I now see is at least six feet taller than me. This must be one of Eve’s traps. Isaac helped her dig them weeks ago.
I can hear the guttural snarls of a cougar above me as leaves and pine needles continue to rain on my head. I want to shout and curse at Isaac for what he’s done, but I don’t want to anger the cougar or distract Isaac. I’m trapped and helpless; two things I haven’t felt since Whitmore.
The image of my mother’s charred body flashes in my mind. I curl up at the bottom of the ditch and close my eyes as I try to block out the pictures. My body is floating as the Earth sways beneath me.
I stick my head between my knees and try to block all thoughts of my mother. I try to focus on what needs to be done.
What needs to be done?
I’m stuck in a ditch with no way out and my best friend is about to be killed. The roaring in my ears revs angrily. I clench my jaw and my hands start to go numb. I’m not breathing.
I suck in a deep breath and the sound of Isaac’s screams pierce my consciousness. I open my eyes and my chest hurts from the frantic pounding of my heart. I get to my feet and search the rough earthen walls of this animal trap. There has to be a tree root I can use to boost myself up.
My fingers claw at the soft dirt searching and digging. The screaming stops.
Everything stops. My breath, my heartbeat, my world. Gone again.
