Devastation: Built on Fear 1

By Shandy L. Kurth

Devastated by a seemingly unforeseeable attack, America is shattered by a military that is the least likely of suspects. In the aftermath, American civilians are left to run, hide, die or fight, pushing through all weakness in their effort to stay alive.

Fighting against all odds, seventeen year old Fallon and twelve year old Emery struggle through a nightmare they can't wake from in order to save their younger siblings. Collecting others along the way, and enduring obstacles unfathomable in their innocence, the kids trek cross country to reach The Safe Zone, a fortified area rumored to be set up in the south. Fallon and his friends aren't even sure there is a Safe Zone though. They could be running for nothing. Never remaining in one place for too long in their attempt to avoid bombings and capture, the kids fight against attack, the elements, sickness and their overwhelming sense of desperation, pushing each other to the limit as they struggle to survive this land of devastation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shandy L. Kurth
• Release date: Dec 14, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465739896

Shandy L. Kurth

Shandy L. Kurth is a writer of Young Adult fiction. She is a teacher by day and a writer by night. She was born and raised in Kanas and lives and writes there with her husband.

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DEVASTATION

Built on Fear 1

Published by Shandy L. Kurth at Smashwords

Copyright © 2011 Shandy L. Kurth

All rights reserved

This book is available in print at Amazon.com

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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DEDICATION

For Krisha

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to take a moment to acknowledge my young Cover Artist, Hannah Fishbough. Her amazing talents and perseverance will take her great places. I would also like to acknowledge my wonderful editor John Harten who smoothed the edges of this tale.

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The Marquerings

Date: April 2032

Akron, Ohio

Drip drop, drip drop. The rain falling off the gutters wore on him like Chinese water torture. It had been raining for hours. There was no other sound, just the drip drop of the rain splashing from the crooked gutters. Drip drop.

Fallon watched his fifteen year old sister from across the room. She was reading a book she had read a thousand times, her glasses starting to slide down her nose. What else was there to do now? Nothing. There was nothing. There was no school or work. There was just this house with his dying mother and scared sister. Fallon chewed on his thumb nail as he watched his little sister, wondering what she thought of all of this. He was trying so hard to convince her that it would soon be over; soon life would return to normal. Would it though? He almost knew better and yet he wished and prayed that it would. One day, he told himself, one day it will be the way it used to be, full of sports and dates, fooling around at the movies, and cruising around town with no purpose.

He got up, knowing he had to scrounge something for dinner. He knew when he looked in the cupboard there would be three cans of tomato soup left, a can of sardines, fourteen crackers, half a jar of peanut butter and half a package of cookies. Barely enough to feed two small children, he thought, let alone three adults. Fallon made up two peanut butter crackers, leaving six crackers for tomorrow. He warmed up a can of tomato soup and split it into three bowls. They had eaten too much for a time there, in the beginning, he knew, but there was nothing he could do about that now.

Sandi looked at her helping greedily but ate it slow, savoring every bite. Fallon watched her, wondering what the hell had happened to their normal life. He took one bowl into the other room to his mother. She was thinning into nothing; they all were, but her most of all. She was so pale, her skin fading into her white sheets.

Here mama, he said, pulling her up into a sitting position against her pillows. I have some soup for you.

Thank you, hun, she said as he sat it on her lap.

How are you today?

Oh, I’m still living.

Barely, Fallon thought watching as she feebly lifted the spoon to her lips. She was forty but looked fifty. Back in the day, she looked good for her age. Not now. She had been sick for two weeks. There were no doctors left in town. Fallon tried to care for her as best he could but nothing seemed to help. She just got weaker before his eyes. How long could she survive? How long could any of them survive?

The Flores’

Akron, Ohio

Emery tried to sleep. The sun was just going down but she didn’t know what else to do. It was dark there in the basement where Mother had left them. Stay here. You’re safe down here. I love you. She told them before she fled into the night. They were almost out of food. All that was left was half a box of crackers and some cans of corn. There were no beds in the basement of the apartment building. There were only boxes of old junk and paper work, lots of paper work. Emery and her brother curled up on blankets they had brought down from their apartment when mother had forced them to leave.

Emery? Conner called from behind her. Conner was small for his age; he was eight, with penetrating eyes, that seemed to ask a million questions yet contain a million answers at the same time, always thinking. Emery didn’t look at him. He was too old for his age and she hated to see the understanding in his eyes. He had always been too old for his age, smarter than any kid she knew. He sat playing a one person card game that mom had taught him. All of his electronics had died weeks ago.

Yeah? Emery answered back.

Where are we going to get more food when ours runs out?

I don't know. Their mother had left two days earlier to get food; they hadn't seen her since. Emery imagined her finding the U.S. army and being rescued, demanding they find her children. In her fantasy, they would refuse and drag her to safety.

Emery?

Yeah? the twelve year old asked again, wondering what she was supposed to do if their mother didn't come back.

You think Mom's dead?

Emery didn't answer.

Desiree Baldi

Outside of Akron, Ohio

Desiree sat silently in the dirty dank storm drain. She was still in shock, not sure what to do. Memories of her father’s body tortured her thoughts, bloody and disfigured after the bombing. Sixteen years old and alone in this horrible world full of death and chaos. She needed to find somewhere safe. She wasn't even sure that there was somewhere safe. Her dad was sure, but with him no longer by her side, reminding her why it was they had to keep heading south, she was really starting to wonder if there was any point.

She was headed toward Akron on Highway 8, Hudson was no longer safe. Akron probably wasn't either but she had to keep moving. She would just have to see when she got there. Maybe the army would be there. Hopefully the U.S Army. All she knew was that she had to move.

We are the new government! the radio had said. Where was the U.S. government? Who knew if there even was a U.S. government anymore. Maybe she was running for nothing.

All she was certain of was that she needed to find food. She wouldn’t have anything to eat soon. Her stomach had been growling angrily at her for two days as she cut back on her supply. The rationing had come at a cost. She was getting weaker with each mile. Her clothes were dirty, covered in mud from the hike and dust from the bombings. Her elbow was killing her; she had landed on it hard, running from the men with guns.

They had been wearing black and gray camouflage uniforms with funny hats. How hot they must have been. They were used to the cold, she wondered who had thought up that stupidity. They would melt in the heat of mid July.

How insane it was for her to even think about their comfort! They had killed her father; she had barely escaped with her own life. She wished they would all boil in their black uniforms. Maybe then they would feel the pain her father had

Guy Gallagher

Hudson, Ohio

Right left, now you’re right, now your left, Guy thought, as he stomped through the ruble that used to be Hudson, Ohio.

Hey Guy, have you found any? one of his unit hollered from across what used to be a street with office buildings lining it but was now lined with rubble like you might see in an old war movie. He shuttered realizing what he used to think of as entertainment was now his reality. This street two months ago was probably bustling with activity, people headed to and from work, climbing onto city transport. Now it was leveled. Nothing beneath the debris could have survived.

A few, Guy yelled back. He was exhausted, collect the survivors, he had been told, leave the dead. Guy trudged on, rifle heavy in his arms, his feet sore and aching with each step. Left right, left right, he told himself. You can make it. It was so hot. The black of his uniform absorbed the heat trapping it and him inside. Sweat poured down his face. Right left, right left.

Help me! someone shouted. Guy stopped in alert, looking around. Who was that? Where? It was a woman’s voice, that he was sure of. Help! Please! It was coming from a pile of broken concrete to his right that used to be an apartment building; Guy took off for it digging, tossing head sized chunks of debris left and right. Please! A foot appeared, then an arm, finally a face. She was young, probably in her early twenties, blonde hair, blue eyes, she was sobbing, blood everywhere.

What you got? The voice surprised him. For a moment, Guy had forgotten what he was doing, and where he was. Sergeant Hale appeared beside him looking down at the girl.

Please, she looked up at them, Please!

She’s hurt bad, the Sergeant said. She’s no good to us. The shot cut through Guy’s head. Blood exploded onto his uniform, soaked in and disappeared, mixing with the dirt and filth he had collected throughout the trek. The girl quieted, her eyes going empty. The sergeant grunted and turned away, yelling, Close up! Close up! Simms, I told you to quit smoking that dope on patrol!

Guy’s breath caught in his throat. He took a few steps and threw up, the Sergeants callousness pushing him to the edge. What have we done? He thought, what have we done?

The Marquerings

Akron, Ohio

You have to go, Fallon. Take your sister and find food and water. Try and find the army. Fallon’s mother’s face was urgent as she looked up at Fallon from her bed.

I’m not leaving you here! There his mother lay, sick and dying; he couldn’t leave her; he wouldn't leave her. It was an unimaginable request. There had to be something else they could do.

I know you’re scared honey, but you have to get food. You need to get your sister out of here.

Fallon sat in the chair beside his mother’s bed with his face in his hands. He did not feel seventeen; he felt like a little boy again. You’re the man of the house, and you have to protect your sister.

I can’t, he whispered, his mind going there, traveling alone with his sister, knowing his mother was sick maybe dying. Where would they go?

You will. Her voice was so strong and demanding that Fallon looked up from the floor. She was still the same woman who had raised him. She had fed him, sheltered him, cared for him his entire life. Although his father had been around in his early life, it was she who had taught him to ride a bike and throw the ball. She had packed his lunch and quizzed him on his spelling tests. She had been there, cheering at his little league games, and yelling from the stands as he pitched at the state championships his junior year. He couldn’t leave her now, not when she needed him.

He knew, though, that they couldn't make it without food. They had to find something to eat and soon. They could not survive without water. The tap had run dry days ago, and the bathtub they had filled was almost empty. Even before the war began, water had been rationed. Lakes ran dry due to the overuse caused by water powered vehicles, cars and air transport. There were talks of going to an alternate fuel source although no one had decided what the source might be. He walked out of the room, thinking. He would go and find food and water; then he would bring it back.

Fallon paced back and forth in their small living room, his mind rattling with images and thoughts and plans and indecision about leaving. Sandi was a tough girl, not like most girls at school who walked around in heels with their perfect nails. She was real, not as athletic as Fallon but she was active. How long could she make it though, out on the road? Sandi watched him intently. She looked so weak. They had barely eaten in the past four days. He had to go. He had always taken care of her, of Mom, ever since their dad had taken off. He couldn’t let them down now, when they really needed him.

I’ll bring food back for all of us.

Fallon, you two can’t stay here! They’ll come for us. This place won’t be safe for much longer. Take your sister and head south. The bombs will come, Fallon!

He looked back at his sister sitting in the living room as his mother tried to make him see reason. Sandi looked on silently, almost like she didn’t hear the conversation going on. Her face was a mask. He loved her so much, and he remembered when she would sneak into his room after a nightmare and sleep on his floor.

That night, they packed their backpacks, filling them with things that might be useful, because as unbelievable as it all was, and as strange it felt to leave the home where Fallon had grown up, they had to, his mom was right. The bombs would come, and if they were still there…

They packed a pocket knife, matches, two cups and two bowls and two spoons. They stuffed in two changes of clothes, a coil of rope what had been a clothes line, wire cutters, a flashlight lacking batteries, the small radio, a hammer, a map of Ohio, a small bottle of their mother’s vodka, and two books, Silent Storms and Of Mice and Men, two of Sandi’s favorites. Then they slept. Fallon’s dreams, nightmares of his mother dying in bed, being bombed and losing Sandi.

Their bags were heavy on their backs the next morning.

I love you both, their mother said, pulling them to her. You be careful. Fallon could tell she was trying not to cry as she watched her children go off into a world at war.

Sure, sure. Of course we will. Fallon hugged his mother back knowing this was the last time that he would see her; he could hear his sisters quick breaths beside him.

He tried to turn off his mind as they headed out, tried to forget about leaving his mother to die. The sky was grey with dust as it had been for weeks. They had somewhat gotten used to it. The streets were deserted. It was nothing like the lively place it had been before the war. There were always kids out in the yard, playing ball, playing tag. Parent's would be yelling at them to come in for lunch or dinner. Not now. Now it was deserted, the grass over grown, toys left forgotten by the sidewalk.

Fallon thought about his friends Erin and Tyler. Where were they now? They had left, their parents well enough to make the trek. Their wallets full enough. Fallon had done everything with them since middle school. They had played ball together and wrestled together. They had played pranks together, (although Erin usually orchestrated those. He was always the prankster. Fallon chuckled to himself thinking about sophomore year and Erin’s grand idea to move the science teacher’s car.) They doubled dated together and cheated on tests together. Now they were who knew where and Fallon was headed into unfamiliar territory, thinking of only food and protecting his sister.

Street lights and store windows were broken out. Everything had been ransacked. Trash littered the streets, the smell from it tearing at Fallon's nostrils. Cans lay overturned. There were cars along the road; no one wanted to spare the water that it took to fuel them, so they jumped in with other people or headed out on foot. Who knew where the next water station would be, so why waste what they had?

It’s like something out of a movie, Sandi said gazing at the overturned street.

A disaster movie. She was right. It looked like something out of those old movies where viruses ran ramped and no one was out on the streets anymore because the zombies would get them. Fallon shuttered.

There wasn’t a soul left. They had fled as the first air strikes were reported to have hit Ohio. Those who did stay, huddled in their homes, hoping not to draw the attention of an invading army, as Fallon’s family had done.

Their first stop was a general store not far from their house. There was practically nothing left. A few dessert cakes lay on the ground next to a smashed bag of chips and two bags of twizzlers. They found two cans of pork and beans, and even that little made Fallon worry about the added weight.

Can I eat something now? Sandi asked looking longingly at the food Fallon had scooped up off of the floor, tugging on the frame of her glasses.

We better not. This might be all we find today.

He unzipped his bag and stuffed the food inside wishing there were more. The store was trashed, bottles of glass were smashed everywhere, racks overturned, magazines and books littering the floor. It looked like animals had been living there. Fallon almost felt like a thief as he left the store with the goodies he had found. His mind flashed back to the one time he had been arrested, not that he had been stealing, he had been fighting but the memory wasn’t pleasant. He shook the thought away.

They walked west on the railroad tracks