Shattered Existence

By Cy Bishop

Cole and Leigh know little of the earth-shattering Event which happened generations ago, leveling the planet and leaving behind creatures that dominate the night. All they know is the world they’re left with, scavenging for supplies, fighting off raiders, repairing their home from the previous night’s damage, and hoping the repairs are strong enough to keep the creatures out for one more night. They even pick up a couple stray kids, and despite Leigh’s misgivings, develop a real family.

But a nearby settlement comes to their community, seeking justice for a perceived slight. And it’s Leigh’s head they’re after.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cy Bishop
• Release date: Mar 25, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370119912

Cy Bishop

I enjoy life in the Pacific Northwest with my family and a constantly excited, thick-headed black lab. I obtained a degree in Counseling Psychology from Northwest University in Kirkland, WA, which I use to create fully dimensional characters with unique personalities and quirks. When not writing, I can usually be found reading, watching movies, or wasting entirely too much time on the internet.

Book preview

Shattered Existence

by Cy Bishop

Copyright 2014 Cy Bishop

Smashwords Edition

With special thanks to:

God, my patient family, Google,

and Jessica Dodson for the fantastic cover

Prologue

Aim lower. Dad reached over and pushed the muzzle of the rifle down a fraction.

Leigh squirmed to adjust her grip, her propped elbows grinding into the dust and dead grass she lay on. The jars on the broken, waist-high wall still wobbled in the crosshairs. She’d seen the black, shiny material withstand drops to the floor. She’d even seen an angry trader throw one at a wall. It had bounced to the ground intact. The only damage was a dent in the wall. If she wanted to shatter the empty jars, she’d have to hit them square on.

She yanked the trigger. The rifle slammed into her shoulder and jumped upward, aggravating the bruise from the last lesson. She winced.

The jars didn’t flinch.

She scowled. I missed.

Dad chuckled softly, a throaty sound. He leaned over her and moved her arms once more, correcting her position and filling her nostrils with the smell of musk and gunpowder. The same smell that lulled her to sleep each night when she crawled into bed between him and her mother, her little brother squirming in behind her.

He wouldn’t squirm in the way this time. This was her time with their father. She was seven. Mom had finally agreed to let Dad teach her to shoot. She hadn’t done so well on the first few lessons. But Leigh was determined to prove herself worthy.

If only the jars would cooperate.

Now, exhale before you fire. And squeeze the trigger, like you’re giving it a hug. Don’t pull on it.

Leigh put her eye against the scope and tried to line up the crosshairs again. The jars still bounced. I can’t get it still.

Exhale.

She breathed out slowly. As the air left her lungs, the jars stopped wobbling.

She squeezed. A spray of splinters marked the place she’d hit the wall beside one of the jars.

Good. Closer. Dad reached over and adjusted her aim again. Lower, remember? Aim low for up close, high for far away.

She obediently lowered the scope. Exhaled. The jar sat just above the crosshairs. She squeezed again.

The jar vanished.

I got it? she gasped, scarcely believing.

Winged it. Nice shot. His voice remained low and steady as always, but she saw the pride in his eyes.

She loved making him look like that. She’d done good. She wanted to do more. Maybe when I get really good, I can help you fight.

He chuckled again and ruffled her hair. That won’t be for a while.

Maybe I could get really, super good. So good, no one would come after us. She looked through the scope again. So good, if the creatures tried to get us, we could stop them.

He didn’t say anything.

She lined up the shot and fired. Missed. She’d forgotten to exhale. Embarrassed, she quickly prepared the next shot and tried again. Another jar disappeared.

She looked up, ready to see the pride again, but sadness weighed his face down. Disappointment? But why? She’d made the shot.

He pushed her aim lower again. Don’t talk that way about the creatures.

Why not?

He didn’t answer.

She frowned as she adjusted her position again. Her small hands kept sliding on the long rifle. Her brain still worked as she settled back in place. Something she’d said had made Dad unhappy. But her mind wouldn’t let go of the thought. Where did they come from? The creatures?

He sighed. Sat up. That’s not important. Focus on your shooting.

I want to know.

He was silent a moment longer before speaking. It was a long time ago. My dad’s dad was alive then. People lived everywhere, on hills and mountains, all over. They were in groups called countries, like our settlements, but much, much bigger. And those countries fought a lot.

His voice sounded like it did when he told a story at bedtime. One country was little and not very strong. So people in that country tried to make a better weapon. Something so big, no one would fight them anymore.

She looked up with large eyes. What was it?

We don’t know. It blew up before they could finish. His gaze fixed in the distance. That was the Event. It flattened everything. The only buildings that stayed up were in the deepest valleys.

Where we live.

That’s right. He ruffled her hair again and directed her head back toward the rifle.

Is that what made the creatures? She lined up her aim. The jars bounced in the scope as she talked. Because it blew up?

Yes. He paused. Exhale, remember?

She refocused, aimed. Exhaled. Fired. Hit the wall.

Try again. He pushed the end of the rifle lower again. There had always been dangerous animals, animals that would kill people. The ones closest to the Event began to… change.

Into the creatures?

Yes. Some places were safe from them back when my grandfather was alive, but the things grew. They spread. Now they’re everywhere.

Didn’t anyone try to fight them?

They tried. He fell silent again for a long time.

Leigh looked up at him to see the sad look on his face. She’d said something wrong again.

He reached down and helped her sit up, facing him squarely. Listen to me, honey. There’s something you need to understand. The creatures are scary, right?

She nodded. She still sometimes woke up in the middle of the night to hear claws scraping against the walls. Trying to get in. To get them.

They are scary, he reaffirmed. But they aren’t the biggest danger here. See, the creatures are predictable. They come out only after the sun goes down. They try to get people. They go away before the sun comes up. We always know that’s what they’re going to do, and as long as we make our walls strong, they can’t reach us.

He put a hand on her shoulder. His voice sounded thicker. "Understand? Predictable. They won’t just shoot you for passing them on the road and looking at them wrong. They won’t pretend to be nice so they can scam you out of something you need. They won’t act like your friend only to rob and hurt you.

The real danger isn’t the creatures. It’s the people.

Chapter 1

Leigh squinted past the ruins surrounding her home at the quickly-descending sun. Six minutes, maybe seven. That’s all the time she had before night fell, drawing out the creatures.

Only a fool would leave so close to dark. But she’d run out of nails with one panel left to fix in place, to secure the home and protect them, to keep them alive one night longer. She’d have to run for it.

After hastily securing the door behind her with the two bolts that locked from outside, she took off at a run, ponytail swishing and a small bag of food banging against her thigh with each stride. Cole would get back home before she returned from the market. Her husband would worry. But she’d be back before dark. She had to be.

The last remnants of stubborn wall partitions jutted above what few buildings remained intact, casting bizarre shadows over her path as she ran. Stories, they used to be called. Her father once told her that his father’s father had seen them with his own eyes: buildings stacked on top of each other two, even three stories high. Fantasies and fairy tales.

A particularly dark shadow crossed the road ahead of her. Her heart skipped a beat, but no creature leapt at her. The sun still hovered in the sky, though not for much longer. She turned her focus ahead and pressed on faster. Her feet automatically located the smooth spots in the pavement, weaving one way, then the other, to avoid tripping over the places where the concrete rose in jagged mountains, ready to catch the unwary foot. The roads used to accommodate machines, devices for travel, if her father’s tales were to be believed. All long gone now. All melted down in the early days after the Event. Just like almost anything else made of metal. They’d had to.

The marketplace stood just ahead. She felt a surge of gratitude once again that Cole had managed to secure them a home along the same road as the gathering space, and not too far from it, either. As she’d suspected, most of the selling booths had already closed for the night. To her right stood the metalworker’s home, metal-plated boards closing off the entrance. Same for the herbmixer’s booth, a couple other swappers, everyone. Except for Max. She smiled. She could always count on Max to stay open until the last minute.

The bulky man spotted her just as he lifted the metal plating to close off his booth’s window. His bristly chin wrinkled under a frown. Leigh? The heck are you doing out?

She slapped her bag down on the counter, her other hand twitching nervously at her side, tapping a rhythm of three on her thigh. A fresh apple rolled out of the bag. She’d heard that people used to think the biggest problem after society crumbled would be finding food. Funny, then, that food was plentiful enough to be used as currency. The traders constantly brought in an abundance of vacuum-sealed food jars from massive, centuries-old stockpiles buried deep beneath the distant mountains, along with fruits and bread from high-walled farms that had been built over generations into the same mountains’ sides. Three apples and two food jars, unknown. I need a bag of fourteen solids.

Are you nuts? Have you seen the sun?

Then give me the nails so I can get back. Her fingers tapped again. It’s a fair trade.

He stared at her a moment longer, then grabbed a small bag from a shelf and threw it at her, swiping her bag from the counter at the same time.

Thank you! she shouted, already running back to her street. His grumbles became muted behind her as he pushed the cover into place. An electric whir confirmed what most people suspected; Max had gotten his hands on one of those devices that puts screws and nails into the wall automatically.

Only half the sun remained above the horizon now. Leigh doubled down, pushing her legs harder. Shadows stretched long around her, taunting her with whispers of the coming dark. She clenched her teeth, ignored the stitch in her side, pushed even harder. Had to make it home. She’d make it. She would.

Her foot caught a lump of upraised concrete. She stumbled, struggling to keep her balance, but landed heavily on her hands and knees. Pebbles cut her flesh. The bag rattled across the pavement, spilling nails.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. No, no, she whispered, scrambling after them and stuffing them back in as fast as she could, ignoring the stinging pain in her knees and palms. She didn’t look up at the sun. Didn’t need to. She could feel it disappearing. Hear the scraping of claws, eager to emerge and hunt.

Back on her feet. Running. Gasping for air. Sweat stinging her eyes. Not daring to slow.

Home. She was safe. She fumbled with the key, jammed it in. First lock open. Second lock open. Relief washed over her as she turned the handle.

Nothing.

She slapped her hands against the door, the bag of nails rattling. Cole! Cole, it’s me! Let me in!

An exclamation came from the other side of the door, the tenor sound muffled by the thick metal. Another lock clicked free, then another.

Leigh looked over her shoulder. Only a glimmer of light shone above the distant hills. Come on, open it! Her brain knew that he was working as fast as he could, but every square inch of her body screamed. Open the door get inside by all that is good and holy open the door OPEN IT NOW!

The door flew open. Cole caught her with one arm and spun her inside, then slapped the door shut behind them, shoving the locks back home as fast as he could. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close.

Leigh closed her eyes and struggled to breathe steadily, to calm down her frantic heartbeat. Her lungs burned as badly as the stitch in her side. Her fingers shook too badly to tap the rhythm they wanted to.

I got home, and you weren’t here, Cole whispered into her neck. Blond curls peeked out from under his backwards cap. His grubby tank top smelled of sweat and him. I thought—I wasn’t sure, and I wanted to go look for you, but the sun—

I know. She squeezed him, then turned, her breathing finally leveling out. Her fingers tapped on her thigh.

The front room was small. An upended table was the only furnishing, forming a barrier between the door and the entrance to the rest of the house. Behind the table stood a doorway leading to the long hall down the full length of the west side. A few bags rested in the opposite corner, near the door, evidence of Cole’s daily collection. A handful of flickering candles provided the only illumination, as was the case with the whole house. Cole had apparently gone through and lit them all, probably to give himself something to do rather than worrying about her.

She strode around the barrier and down the hallway. Come on. We’ve got one more wall to secure.

I told you we were going to run out of nails.

She bit back irritation. I had to use more on one section than I expected. It should’ve been fine.

The weak section stood along the back end. A thin sheet of metal plating rested beside it, ready and waiting to be secured in place over the damaged portion of wall. The last vestiges of light punctuated the section, glowing through various clawed-out holes.

They worked in silent unison, lifting the new wall partition into place over the damaged section, hammering the nails in to secure it, checking it with a solid yank to be sure it wouldn’t budge.

Cole leaned back and admired their handiwork. Good. Solid.

She exhaled, adrenaline finally wearing off. But it was settled now. The house was secure. They could eat dinner and climb in bed, safe for another night. Her hands smoothed over her tight ponytail, then dropped to her sides and tapped. That was closer than I like.

His boyish half-grin, the one that still managed to make her melt even after all these years, turned in her direction. He caught her by the small of the back and pulled her against him. I don’t mind things close.

She swatted him and pulled his backwards cap around to the front. Don’t be a scoundrel.

He liberated one hand and returned the cap to the back. Then he waggled his eyebrows and dipped her into a low kiss.

She let herself melt into his embrace, allowing the moment of passion, twisting her fingers in his stubborn blond curls. For that moment, the house didn’t exist, the dark didn’t exist, the danger, the rough world around them—none of it mattered as they simply drank each other in.

He finally straightened. How long have you been tapping?

She looked down and realized her fingers were tapping again. Embarrassed, she forced them to stop. Not long.

Baloney. Are you out of your tea?

No.

He gave her a skeptical look.

I’m not out, she insisted. His look persisted, and she finally gave. There hasn’t been time to gather the herbs, so I’ve been using half-doses for a few days. I’m fine.

Clearly. He gave her hand a pointed look, and she realized she had resumed the tapping. She blushed and forced them still once more. Pressure built in her chest, tighter and tighter until her fingers finally tapped again, freeing the tension.

He sighed. I’ll take tomorrow off to go up the hill and collect the herbs.

She grabbed his arm. You can’t take a day off. The community needs your work.

Then you’ll have to go.

I can’t leave. The house needs reinforced. I need to sort your scrap and make trades. We need more wood for the front end of the house. And—

He kissed her, effectively interrupting her train of thought. They lingered in the embrace, then he pulled back, arms still holding her close. You need it, honey.

She sighed. The house—

I’ll have some of the others give us a hand. He studied her eyes for a moment. We’ll share our scrap in exchange for the work. We can gather more wood later, but your medicine can’t wait.

Leigh hesitated a moment longer and realized her fingers were tapping again. She knew what she became without the medicine. Checking every lock three, even four times. Touching every wall to be sure they were secure. Anxiety crippling her until she could barely breathe. Or pushing her into desperate, frantic outbursts, panic overwhelming her senses until she could hardly remember what she’d said or done moments before.

She couldn’t let that happen again. Fine. I’ll leave early. Maybe I can be back in time to drop the herbs off with Sal and help finish the house.

He kissed her again. Good. I like your thighs the way they are, and I can’t have you tapping holes straight through them.

She swatted his arm and pushed him away. Brat.

He pulled her back in, smooshing kisses on her cheeks. Honey-bun, sweetie-pie, sugar-bear…

Quit being such a dork! she giggled.

Never! He tackled her onto the floor and kissed her deeply.

* * *

Leigh opened her eyes in blackness. Faint snores rattled beside her. She leaned down, brushed a light kiss on her husband’s cheek, then stood. She finished her morning routine quickly, trying to stay quiet in the bathroom to avoid waking Cole early.

Without needing any light, she slipped through the workroom and into the kitchen. Once there, she located what she needed by feel. She munched on a chunk of bread while she dropped an apple and a small unlabeled jar, probably tuna, in a bag with a travel jar opener, the tool needed to puncture the vacuum seal and release the lid. Digging into the back of the cupboard, she found her husband’s stash of Twinkies and pulled out a pack. The greasy, spongy yellow cakes weren’t good for much except for quick bursts of energy and satisfying sweet tooth cravings. She needed both just then. As she ingested the sticky sugar, she filled a water bottle and added it