Resistance

By Renae White

We got a live one!

Muted footsteps moved closer. The sound of heavy breathing followed. I couldnt move. Every muscle in my body ached and screamed in pain. I could feel the presence of people around me, but I still couldnt fi nd enough strength in me to open my eyes.

How bad?

Bad.

Something pried my eyelids open. I could see the dark sky above me. Nothing but black dust. Four large people sat around my body. All were dressed in bulky white suits so that they werent exposed to the outside air. And here I was lying in the dirt vulnerable and hurt. I couldnt see their eyes through the helmets they wore, but I knew they were all looking at me. Suddenly, there was a fl ash of white light; then I was plunged back into the dark. My eyes had fallen closed again.

What do we do?

Theres no room left in the truck for the half dead. We need to find survivors. Leave her. It doesnt look like it has much longer anyway. The voice held authority.

What about the boy?

Been dead for days. Lets go.

Their footsteps moved away, but there was still a presence left behind. It was eerily silent other than my ragged breathing. Then came the sound of a gun loading, and cocking. Slowly, I found it in me to open my eyes. With my eyes half open, I stared at the man above me. The white suit he wore reminded me of a spaceman.

He had a gun in his hand, and it was pointed down at me. He was a soldier. Working for what government was left after the apocalypse of WW3.

I was a survivor, a part of a resistance group, living in the destroyed remains of the city. We stood against everything they stood for and for that we had become a problem.

We should have shot each other dead on sight...but fate had other plans for us...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Jun 14, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483648194

Renae White

RENAE WHITE was born and raised in Australia, where she currently lives with her family and large pack of pets. When not writing she works in animal welfare, with special interest in behaviour

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Copyright © 2013 by Renae White.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

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

Rev. date: 05/29/2013

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-800-618-969

www.Xlibris.com.au

[e-mail]

503652

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

To my Pa

Chapter 1

I watched the skyline.

Once, one of the biggest cities in the state sat beautifully on the horizon. It was the first thing I’d see every morning as I got out of bed and glanced out the window. It always had its own beauty to it. Now it had been replaced with black smoke billowing into the darkened sky. The remains of some buildings still stood high, but I knew they’d be gone by morning, crumbling to the ground, following the rest of the city.

Slowly, I looked away from the horizon. The sight here wasn’t much better. Most the houses were still standing. Some had their windows boarded over where some people had tried to stay. A few still looked normal; some had been levelled by fire or bombing. The ash still floated around my head, evidence of the spot fires that still surrounded us. The stench of death and decay was still strong, but after so long, you forgot about it. It was better if you didn’t think about it. It was an inescapable part of life now. Everything was gone. Our homes, our families, and our friends. Our way of life up in smoke like everything else. It ended in a split second, and it wasn’t changing any time soon. This was the end.

‘Grace.’

Slowly I turned around and pushed my unkempt dark hair behind my ear. My father was kneeling in the dirt amongst what remained of our home. Ours was one of the many to go up in flames. I saw the flicker of fear in his eyes, but he held a strong facade. Mostly for me, I think. His face and arm were burnt and still dripping blood slowly. I too was injured but thanks to him, not as badly. A few burns and some scratches and bruises. But I was okay; I’d live. Compared with most, I was a picture of health these days. I walked over and dropped to the ground beside him. Something dug into my exposed left knee, but I ignored it. We had lost everything but each other. What happened to the rest of our family I didn’t know and a part of me didn’t want to. If I didn’t know, I could believe they died peacefully or that they were alive somewhere. Maybe we’d be reunited one day… It was a long shot but hope was all we had left.

I started to sift through the rubble that had once been our home. We were looking for something, anything that would help us. When you have nothing, the smallest thing can mean the world. Something to remind us to fight on or remind us of our family and one good life. Eventually, my fingers encountered a thin chain. It didn’t belong in the mix of dirt, glass, and rubble. I pulled it out slowly and dusted the dirt and mud off it before holding it in my open palm. My mother’s silver necklace. The one she always wore. I showed it silently to my father. He took it slowly in his callused hands and stared at it. The grief on his face was undeniable, but he hid it quickly before I could see. He turned slowly to place the thin chain around my neck.

‘Keep it safe,’ he whispered, and I nodded.

It was then that we heard footsteps coming from behind us. We both looked back quickly, and my father’s shoulders squared defensively. There was no doubt in my mind that these men were soldiers. Whose, I couldn’t tell. Not that it mattered. No one could be trusted. They could be our soldiers, but with the way everything was now, they could be worse than our enemies.

Even if they were working for our upturned government, they could easily shoot us. I’d already seen some soldiers slaughter people so they wouldn’t have to live this life, so they couldn’t spread the disease they carried, or because they were against the new ‘government’. If they were enemy soldiers, they’d no doubt shoot us dead as an example, if we weren’t taken as slaves. Death was quickly becoming the best outcome for us. We didn’t know who our enemies were any more. When the war first broke out, it was the same was always. Everyone took their sides with their usual allies; some chose to stay out of it. Propaganda littered the streets and radio stations. At first it was barely noticeable, but soon every second ad, every wall was promoting the war—looking for more soldiers to replace those dying overseas.

But so quickly it seemed to turn into an all-out war. Alliances soon meant nothing, and it was everyone for themselves. Smaller countries were wiped out for resources and to prove a point. Every government told their people that they were safe, that they were winning the war, and that it would all be over by Christmas. But now it looked like the world would be gone by then. My father quickly turned back to me and took my face firmly in his hands as his bright blue eyes bore into mine. There was a strength there, laced with fear and concern. I could see everything laid out in front of me. His feelings mixed into mine. If Dad was scared, so was I.

‘Silentum vel mortis,’ he whispered. I nodded slowly. He only let go when the soldiers behind us spoke.

‘Stand up.’

I knew from their accent. They were our soldiers. Slowly we rose to our feet. I eyed the large weapons in their hands warily. If you had a gun around here, you were the authority now. Some people let that go to their heads. I knew my father had a gun on him. He wouldn’t go anywhere without one. But it was two on one. It would be stupid of him to try and take them. Our hopes rested on their mercy. Very slowly and discreetly, Dad put his hand on my arm and pushed me back gently, so I was standing behind him.

‘What are you doing?’ the taller man ordered. My father took a step forward.

‘We’re just looking for what belongings we have left,’ Dad answered in a confident voice. ‘This was our home.’

‘Do you have the right to be out here, it’s past six?’ he replied.

My heart dropped. We were out past curfew. This meant one of three things. The soldiers could be nice and let us go with a warning. This probably wouldn’t happen, but it was a hope. They could shoot us dead for disobeying a strict law. We’d become examples to anyone else who dared step outside past six o’clock in the evening. Or they could arrest us. Honestly, I’d rather they shoot us.

‘I’m sorry,’ Dad said, defeated. ‘I didn’t know. We have no way to keep the time, and we were turned away at the shelter.’

I guess he wasn’t really lying. He had been turned away at the shelter before. But we weren’t homeless, and we really had lost track of the time. Slowly, an annoying tickle crawled up my throat. I tried to hold it back, but I couldn’t. A muffled cough escaped me. The soldier’s eyes instantly turned to me, and Dad’s shoulders squared as his fist tightened.

‘Who are you?’ the man ordered, turning the barrel of his gun on to me.

‘My daughter,’ Dad answered quickly. ‘She’s sick… not seriously, but she’s lost her voice.’

It meant I could keep silent. Their eyes stayed on me, but I took a measured step back. I tried not to smirk. Not only did Dad’s lie mean I could keep silent, it meant they’d keep away from me. Chemical warfare was big now. Diseases were wiping out entire races and countries. All were deadly, and most were highly contagious.

‘Is it catch-able?’ the second soldier asked in a long drawl, speaking for the first time.

‘No,’ Dad said confidently, putting his hand on my shoulder for effect. ‘She’ll be fine in a few days. We’ve been turned away several times and had to spend nights in the cold.’

The first man frowned, his eyes on Dad’s arm. I glanced down to where his eyes were, and panic rose in my chest. I quickly shrugged my father’s hand off my shoulder, hoping his sleeve would cover the red cloth tied around his wrist again. I watched his sleeve slip down, but it didn’t completely cover the red cloth. I took a step back as the first soldier lifted his gun. Dad glanced down and noticed his band was showing. Quickly he pulled his sleeve down, and I pulled mine down out of fear. There was no way we’d be shown mercy now. They knew. Dad stumbled over his words for a moment, but there was nothing he could do. So he turned to his last resort.

He turned to me quickly and yelled, ‘Run!’

I didn’t think twice about it. I turned and ran as fast as my legs would take me. Dad had already drummed it into me not to look back… ever. We knew this may be the scenario one day. I could still hear his voice pounding in my head.

‘If I say run, I mean run,’ he said firmly. ‘Don’t stop, no matter what, I don’t care if something happens to me, but you will be safe. Keep running to the nearest safe spot, and I will come find you. If I don’t come within an hour, go back to the safe house carefully. I mean it, Grace… never look back.’

I heard gunshots echo in the background. The adrenalin pumped hard, and I ran faster again. All the pain I felt before was gone. I just had to get away. I begged in my head, ‘Please be safe. Please be safe.’ I’d be lost without my dad; he was all I had left. I tried to have faith in him. He knew how to look after himself, and there’s no way he’d leave me without a fight. I did everything I could to stay out of sight and off the roads. The army still patrolled the area. It was safer for me to avoid them. I jumped fences into backyards mostly.

At first I used to worry about running into a mean dog, but that wasn’t a worry any more. If the animals hadn’t escaped their yards, they were dead. Disease and starvation… just like us. It was sad, but it was the way things were now. But soon I realised that going in a straight line over fences wasn’t going to get me where I needed to be. I had to think quick. I had no idea if the soldiers had followed me and, if so, how close they were. They wouldn’t let me slip by easily. The red band around my wrist was an instant death sentence.

I was going to have to make a dash across the street if I wanted to get somewhere safe. It was risky putting myself in the open but so was running in a straight line. It was a risk I had to take. I jumped one last fence, and gasping for air, I crawled through a broken window, into the house. I stopped for a moment, leaning against the wall, trying to catch my breath. The house had long been abandoned. Household objects littered the floor; it looked like they’d left in a hurry. A small teddy bear, wearing a blue shirt, had been left by the front door. It was a sad sight. So many families had been uprooted by the war. I wondered if this one had made it somewhere safe, or were they dead too. Maybe they, like so many people, had run for the safety of the hospital. It once stood as a safe area, an evacuation point. Now it was nothing more than a ten-storey-high mass grave. The first bomb to be dropped over our city was chemical. It spread a horrible disease, and most ran straight for the scarce resources of the hospital.

Some nurses and doctors had already fled, knowing the danger they were in if they stayed. Some had stayed behind to try and help the sick and the injured. Of course, in the small space with so many people, the disease spread rapidly, taking more lives. Then as more bombs were dropped, more ran for the hospital to be evacuated or treated. They all died too. The stench of death covered all the surrounding blocks around the hospital.

‘This way!’

I jumped. I didn’t know if that was the same soldier I was running from, but I wasn’t risking it. I kept low as I moved across the dirty ash-stained floor. Thankfully, the front door was already ajar. I crawled out, taking cover of the porch and the dead plants. A lot of plant life had succumbed to the chemical warfare too. Though it wasn’t the chemicals that killed them; it was the lack of the sun. It didn’t seem as bright any more, but I guess that was expected. It had disappeared completely for three days after a nasty bomb was dropped two states over. I could only imagine the damage that bomb had caused where it had hit.

I pushed the thought from my head and peeked over the top of the wooden porch and scanned the area. It was all deserted. Only a blanket of white ash on the road and dead grass. I swallowed the hard lump in my throat and pushed myself up a little, so my feet were beneath me. I scanned the area one last time. There was no movement, so I took off. I pushed as hard as I could to make it across the street as quickly as possible. I jumped the curb and sprinted up the closest driveway.

‘Hey!’

The yell echoed through the empty street and made me run harder. I looked over my shoulder to see the tall solider I was running from. My heart skipped a beat, and it didn’t feel good. I turned around and tried to run faster but was quickly brought up short. A boy stood before me. He was tall, though he only looked to be my age. Unfortunately, he was dressed in army uniform from head to toe and was holding a big gun. I had nowhere to go. There was a fence to my right, a wall to my left, and soldiers back and front. I was dead. I hit the brakes and skidded in the loose dirt.

‘Grab her, Rawson!’

The boy looked at me. His eyes didn’t hold the same coldness I’d grown accustomed to seeing in the soldiers. He looked scared, but he looked scared for me. His eyes flickered to the red cloth around my wrist. It surprised me that he looked hesitant. I knew he had orders to kill anyone wearing a red cloth for what it symbolised. I backed into the fence, not sure what else to do. I had nowhere to go. The larger man’s footsteps echoed closer and closer like a timer to the end of my life. I looked down into the dirt, knowing I was going to pay the ultimate price for my mistake.

There was no mercy for the resistance.

‘Go.’

I looked up quickly, my features expressing shock. The boy’s eyes were soft and panicky.

‘Go,’ he said more forcefully, stepping to one side.

I was in shock, but I did as he said. I sidestepped slowly past him, careful to keep as much distance between us as possible. It was common for some soldiers to play sick games with their prey. I’d witnessed it first-hand. He watched me slowly. He didn’t look like he was going to grab me any time soon. Once I was safely past him, I took off running again, trying to put as much distance between us as possible. I didn’t look back to see if he was chasing me. I reached the back fence of the property quickly. I knew jumping to the left side would put me in another yard, in the opposite direction I needed to go. Jumping to the right side would put me in a small park. I could hide amongst the trees and bushes until it was safe to make a sprint for the other side. Then I’d only be a block from where I would meet my father.

Logic told me to jump to the right. I used an old rusted swing set to leverage myself up and put myself on top of the fence. I was about to swing myself over when something grabbed me from behind. I instantly started to struggle against what held me.

I tried putting my weight over the fence so I’d fall from the grip, but the strong hands pulled me back over the fence and into the yard. We both hit the ground with a thud and a groan. Ash billowed up around our heads, unsettled from where we’d fallen. I had a quick glance at who had me. The boy soldier from before. Without waiting another second I struggled from his hold and tried to get to my feet, but his weight was on me and our limbs were tangled. His hands grabbed me, and I reacted instantly. I threw a punch into his face. I’d never learnt to fight, so my punches were very weak but it did enough—thanks to the adrenalin pumping through my veins.

He groaned and cussed loudly as blood sprouted from his nose. I struggled harder but something was holding me back. I started to panic. I had to get away to spare my own life. Then in one swift movement I didn’t see coming, he flipped us. His weight was completely on me. Pinning me into the grass, he lay on top of me. I was dead for sure.

‘Stop it,’ he muttered quickly and quietly. ‘I’m trying to help.’

I stopped for a moment and looked back at him. His eyes captivated me for a moment, a beautiful green you didn’t see anywhere any more. But they were tainted like the rest of us. This life would do that to you, and being a soldier, he’d more than likely seen his share of destruction and death. Probably just as much as me, but from another point of view. He looked barely twenty. He had to be older than me but not by much. We were still children, forced to fight or die.

Carefully, he reached down, and I kept my eyes on his hand. It wasn’t until then I realised that he hadn’t been holding me down. The strap to his gun, which was also strapped to him, had caught on my belt during the fall. I’d been struggling against his weight; he wasn’t holding me. We untangled the strap from my belt quickly but carefully. One mistake could cost valuable seconds to my escape. When I was free of him, he still didn’t move off me, though I tried to push him off.

‘Don’t go over that fence,’ he breathed. ‘They’re patrolling the road over there, all the way back to the city.’

He wasn’t playing with me… he was saving me from walking to my own demise. He definitely shouldn’t have been wearing that uniform. He especially shouldn’t have been helping me. He should have put a bullet in me on sight. Those were his orders, and he was risking a lot by ignoring them. He pulled his weight off me, and I crawled out from under him quickly like a timid cat. He stood straight. He was tall and lanky. Definitely still a boy. Nothing like the soldiers I’d learnt to fear. I pulled myself on to my own shaky feet and breathed out slowly.

‘Thanks,’ I whispered. It didn’t feel right thanking a man in his uniform.

‘No problem,’ he replied and looked over his shoulder. ‘You better go quick.’

His warning was helped along by a loud booming call. ‘Rawson! Where are you?’

I didn’t hesitate. I turned on my heel and ran over to the other fence. I spared one last look over my shoulder, but he was gone. Quickly I heaved my small form over the crooked fence and into the next yard. That was way out of the ordinary. Let me explain how this worked.

There was the government and their armed forces. All running the same orders from the same people. They upheld the ‘law’ or what they said was the law now. They protected the civilians from invasion and helped them to safety. But at the same time, they murdered hundreds of people for no reason under the same orders. Whoever was in power now had totally lost their minds and wanted control of everything that was left. I can’t say it was the president that was in power any more. They said he was still alive, though the rumour was he was dead. If he was alive, he was run by other men; he was just a puppet. These men had no identity.

The survivors of the war went one of three ways. Some turned to the government. Following exactly what was wanted and expected of them. They ran to the safety the government promised. I had no idea where they were taken or what happened to them. There was always talk of evacuation. To where, I had no idea; I doubted there was a safe place left on the planet. Some of the signs were still taped around, informing people of evacuation points, the hospital being the main one.

Those who didn’t want to follow the government went their own way. Some went alone, packing whatever they could find and trying to survive. Those who knew what they were doing succeeded. Most didn’t. They died of starvation, disease, and the cold. Or they ran into a soldier and failed their games.

A small group of us walked with targets on our backs and red bands around our wrists. Because we opposed the war from the beginning, we opposed the government and their new laws and their favouritism of the rich. The more money you had to give, the more safety and care you were offered.

We were a resistance group. Standing for what we believed in and standing alone without the help of the government. But that’s not what they wanted. We were expected to fall into line and follow their orders like sheep. So we were made an example of. We were shot dead on sight to show that if you didn’t follow the government, you died. We were a peaceful group, though. We didn’t believe in the war; not that we had a choice any more, but if violence could be avoided, we avoided it. Our ranks were open to other survivors who didn’t want to sell their souls to corruption and those who could be trusted. We couldn’t allow spies into our group to get us killed. We’d learnt from our mistakes. I had followed my father into the group. He was all I had left, so wherever he went, I went. He never believed in war. He always said there were better ways to sort things out than spilling blood. I agreed.

He used to be nothing more than a labourer. Working in factories his whole life and always moving jobs. Now he was a leading man in the biggest resistance group left. Finally, standing for what he believed in. He was a leader by nature, and people flocked to him. He didn’t pretend. He showed his fear; he showed he cared. So people followed him everywhere. I knew I would until the day I died and not only because he was my father.

I stopped for a moment and hid in the safety of a bush. I needed to catch my breath. It had taken me twice as long as it should have, but I was close to where I needed to be. The resistance had a few safe meeting points for when situations like this arose. We all knew where they were, and the one I needed to be in was across the main road. Unfortunately, as the boy soldier had informed me, it was being patrolled. All the way up to the city. If I wanted to meet my dad and make it back to our home, I would have to cross it. I had no other choice.

I peeked over the edge of the bush. The road was two lanes either way with a concrete divider in the middle. Looking back to the left, I could see the city in the distance; the soldiers were walking with their backs to me. In the other direction, there was nothing more than houses and more patrolling soldiers. Crossing would be a huge risk if I wasn’t patient. It was open; I’d be spotted easily. I’d also be an easy target. I had to plan this carefully.

I spotted my destination on the other side, a small hole in the barrier. That would more than likely put me on the block my best friend used to live on. From there, the safe house wasn’t far. A small sprint and I’d be safe. Suddenly, a loud bang echoed down the road. I looked to see a car, coloured in camouflage paint, spilling black smoke further down the road. In a split second, I checked the other side. The soldiers to the left hadn’t heard, and their backs were still turned to me. I flung around to check the other side. Those soldiers now had their backs turned, looking at the source of the noise. Knowing it was dumb luck to have this chance and knowing it wouldn’t happen again no matter how long I waited, I made my move.

Keeping low, I sprinted across the first road and used the barrier as cover. No soldiers had spotted me yet, so I made the last dash for my life and threw myself into the dirt on the other side. It hurt, but I pushed the pain back. I crawled through the hole in the tall wooden barrier separating the houses from the road, feeling the wooden splinters scratch my back and legs.

Abruptly, I heard a shot. It echoed loudly down the empty road and made my ears ring. It was too close for my liking. I looked to see the bullet lodged into the wood beside me. Inches from my body. I glanced back to see the soldiers running in my direction. I knew this was too good to be true. I flung myself to the other side and stumbled clumsily to my feet. I knew I had an advantage here. They were too big to fit through the hole I’d just crawled through. Leaving the only way to access this side of the fence a mile down the road. I matched their pounding rhythm with my own feet and ran in the direction of safety.

Another two shots rang in my ears, making my heart skip several beats. The first bullet whizzed past me way too close for comfort and lodged itself into a letter box. The second made contact and I heard the sound of wet flesh rip under the strain. The force was enough to send me tumbling to the ground, almost screaming in pain. Screaming would be a bad idea. It would alert more soldiers to a weak target. I didn’t know where the bullet had hit. My whole left side was in pain. I heard a triumphant yell from far behind me. It coaxed me to go on.

Gritting my teeth and biting my tongue, I stumbled to my feet, clutching at my left side. I was weak but the house wasn’t far, and I had a head start on the soldiers. I used front fences and trees to cover myself as I stumbled in the direction of the safe house only to find I’d only been two houses away from it when I’d been hit.

I would have run straight past it in my panic. I slumped on the wall and used it to support me all the way around to the back of the house. I pulled a door open and snuck inside slowly. I went for the closest dark room and collapsed into the corner, feeling wet hot tears dribble off my cheeks.

I could hear the yells and orders from the soldiers outside the house. They were looking for me and I begged to whatever god there was up there to save me. I’d never been religious, but sometimes it just helped. The floor creaked behind me. My heart rose in my throat, and before I could turn around, something grabbed me from behind.

I felt a scream mount in my throat only to have it clamped in with a big warm hand over my mouth. I instinctively started to struggle and caused myself more pain. I screamed in agony into the hand that covered my mouth, causing it to compress harder to keep the noise stifled.

‘Grace!’

The harsh whisper brought me crashing down. I slumped backwards into my father’s large body, and he cradled me in his strong arms. I was safe, and I truly felt it with my dad here. Even with the shouts of the soldiers outside.

My body, realising I was where I needed to be, started to withdraw the adrenalin from my system. Pain attacked me from everywhere—the scrapes in my knees, the bruise on my side from the fall I had with the soldier, the deep scratches on my back, and, worst of all, the bullet wound in my left side.

Dad kept his hand over my mouth as he moved his other hand down to pry my bloody hands off the wound. The bullet had entered my left side, just below my rib cage. Warm blood was pouring out and down my side. Panic settled in his eyes, and he didn’t hide it. Quickly he ripped his shirt off his body, leaving him in only a dirty white singlet.

He pressed his shirt to the wound to stop the blood flow and tightened his hand to muffle my sounds of discomfort. We couldn’t be heard now, and I doubted he wanted to hear me screaming. He pulled my up into his chest and held me like a baby.

‘Shh,’ he cooed softly in my ear. ‘We’ll be okay. I’ll get you help, Gracie.’

His voice was weak, shaking in fear but with fake strength. He wanted me to believe him. But he too was scared for my life. I could see the dilemma in his eyes. He had to get me help as soon as possible, but he had to hide out longer. We couldn’t risk running into any more government soldiers.

This wasn’t the first time I’d been shot either. It was a part of this life. Especially when you had a target on your back like we did. I only survived the first time thanks to my father. One of the biggest problems now was the lack of medical supplies. Before a shot like this could be fixed, you would survive given you got the help you needed. Now that help didn’t exist, and medicals supplies were in short demand. If the bullet didn’t kill you, the infection would.

Slowly, so as not to cause me any unnecessary pain, Dad stood, keeping me in his arms. I put my head down into the crook of his neck and closed my eyes. Hot tears still fell down my cheeks and soaked into his shirt. He continued to coo softly in my ear as he walked, but most the time his words were lost in my pain. Sometimes, he had no choice but to jump and hide which, in turn, jolted me and caused me more pain. I had to bite my hand to stop myself making too much noise. By the time we made it back, my hand was drawing blood was well. I opened my eyes slowly to see where we were. My vision was hazy, but I could tell we were back home, at the hideout.

Our hideout was an old abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. We often moved to keep hidden, but this had to be the best place we’d had so far. It was big, but half of one side had caved in, leaving only half the space. The back where it had all caved in provided good cover, and the smalls gaps acted as windows. Also, it deterred the army from looking in here. They expected us to be in something better than a caved-in warehouse. Dad got us inside quickly; I closed my eyes again as the world started to spin around me.

‘Jamison!’

Dad’s voice boomed and echoed off very wall. It rang in my ears, and soon pounding footsteps rushed over. From my guess, there were two people.

‘What happened?’

‘They’re so many of them out there,’ Dad breathed, his voice weak.

‘C’mon, put her down.’

Dad was usually the one handing out orders, but when it came to anyone’s health,

Jamison was the man who gave the orders. Dad walked over to the other side of the room and laid me down gently. There was something soft beneath me, but I could still feel the concrete floor beneath my spine. Three large bodies leant over me, blocking any light. Two hands carefully took my head and laid it gently in their lap. I looked up through blurry eyes to see my father. Gently, he touched my cheek.

‘Get all the supplies,’ Jamison ordered, making the third man run off.

‘There was so many of them out today,’ Dad whispered. ‘I had no idea.’

‘No one did until an hour ago,’ Jamison replied. ‘Dimitri came back and told us they were all out. Apparently, there was another threat of invasion from the Russians.’

‘What for?’ Dad said. ‘There’s nothing left to have.’

‘To prove a point, I guess,’ Jamison muttered, pulling the shirt off the wound. ‘To say we have this land and you don’t, just like we did to them.’

‘It’s fucking ridiculous,’ Dad muttered as the third man returned. ‘We’re running low,’ Dad noted. The tone of his voice worried me.

‘I know,’ Jamison breathed sadly. ‘We’re going to have to make another run to the hospital. We’ll have no choice after this. She’s…’ He trailed off. Dad squeezed my hand tightly.

I finally found the strength to open my eyes. Dad was above me, holding my head in his lap. I drifted my sight down to see the other two men. Jamison was on my left side, filling a needle with a clear substance. I hated needles, but right now I didn’t care as long as it was filled with morphine. To my right sat Dimitri. He was seventeen, only a year older than me and in all honesty, the most annoying person left on the face of the earth. Of all the people to spend the apocalypse with, I got him. Any other time I would have shoved his hands off me. He was a pervert and I despised his touch, but right now he was stopping blood flowing from my body.

I gritted my teeth and watched as Jamison injected the needle into my arm. Jamison was one of the main men in our organisation, alongside my dad. He had this rank because of his knowledge. He was one of the few university graduates we had left. Luckily for us, he had studied medicine before switching careers. So he became our only doctor and caretaker. My father held him in high regard, and the feeling was mutual, making them very good friends. Both men were leaders in a time when chaos reigned. People flocked to them. Something I’d noticed about people was they needed a leader, someone to tell them what to do. Very few survived without this.

‘What can I do?’ Dad questioned.

Jamison was silent for a moment. ‘There’s nothing you can do, Cameron.’

‘There has to be something,’ Dad said, his voice tense. He wasn’t the kind of man who liked being rendered useless. Especially when it came to his children.

‘Keep her awake, keep her with us,’ he replied carefully. There was a tense minute before he went on, ‘Hold her, Cameron. I have to get the bullet out…’

‘But,’ Dad prompted, finishing his hanging words. ‘There’s not enough morphine,’ he whispered. I wasn’t sure if I heard him correctly. ‘Can’t we get more?’ Dad said forcefully.

‘Not in time,’ Jamison replied good-naturedly compared with Dad’s tone. ‘We have to get it out now… or it’ll get infected. If it gets infected, she dies.’ Dad let out a shaky breath.

‘Hold her,’ Jamison replied gently. ‘Keep her awake.’

I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be good. Dad leant over, placing his head beside mine. He kissed my forehead gently before his hands took my arms, holding me still. This definitely wasn’t going to be good. Dimitri shared a look with Jamison; he nodded, and Dimitri looked back at me. His hands too took hold of me.

‘Grace… ,’ Jamison said gently. ‘I know it’s going to hurt but you need to keep still for me, so I can get it out quickly, okay?’

The only answer he got from me was my eyes clenching and my head turning to face another direction. I felt the shirt being pulled off the wound. Dried blood tugged lightly at my skin as it left. I heard him pick something up, and my imagination ran wild. I swear I could be my own worst enemy sometimes. Images flashed through my mind of what he could be holding… a knife… a scalpel… a sponge.

The list was endless, but when it dug into my flesh, I knew it was something sharp. I couldn’t help it; I cried out. The two sets of strong hands tightened on me, and I flinched and squirmed in anguish. I could hear crying and screaming, but I didn’t know if I was the source. My mind was on the pain. I could feel something digging into my side… getting deeper and deeper, forcing its way through stubborn flesh until it found its target.

I have no idea how long it took Jamison to pry the bullet out. It was all blurred into one long instance of pain. Then suddenly there was a soft noise as the bullet and the knife hit the ground together. Then Jamison was throwing orders at Dimitri to pass him what he needed. Slowly, as some of the pain faded, things came to me. I could hear Dad’s weak voice in my ear, telling me it was okay. But before my pain could numb much more, there was an agonising moment when Jamison poured something over the open wound. I screamed, and Dad quickly tried to calm me.

‘I’m sorry, Grace,’ Jamison said loudly enough to be heard over my pain. ‘I have to disinfect it… bandages, Dimitri.’

Slowly and carefully he wrapped clean bandages around my middle so that the wound was covered. Dad pulled me up gently so I was sitting up in his lap to make it easier. I slumped lazily into him, letting him move me where I needed to be.

‘Get some water,’ Jamison said softly to Dimitri I assumed as he left. Then he turned to look back at me. His eyes soft as he pulled my shirt back down. ‘We’re done. You can rest.’ He looked at Dad. ‘We just have to keep the area clean. We can’t let it get infected.’

‘Should we organise another trip to the hospital?’ Dad asked.

A trip to the hospital was filled with good treasure to bring home. Medical supplies were scarce and highly needed. But it was a risk. Not only could there be dangerous disease still lingering within the walls, but it was an open area. One the army often checked.

‘We’ll have to,’ Jamison replied slowly. ‘But we can’t for a couple of days. Not while all these soldiers are out. We’ll get killed.’

Dimitri came back with a glass of water and gave it to Jamison. Dad held my head up with one hand while Jamison poured the water into my mouth. It was a slow process. Dimitri watched with concern.

‘Is she all right?’ he asked.

‘She’s weak,’ Jamison replied. ‘She lost a lot of blood, but she’ll be okay.’

‘What about a pharmacy? Will that give us what we need until we can make the hospital?’ Dad was nothing if not practical.

Jamison pondered the thought as he moved forward before me. Carefully, he reached my face and pried one of my eyes open with two fingers. He studied my eye for a moment before moving back.

‘It won’t give us exactly what we need, but it’s something. Organise it for tomorrow. If nothing else, we’ll get the bandages we need. I’ve only got one change left for her, and she’s going to need a few.’

Dad nodded and moved me in his arms so that I was lying back and he could cradle me like a baby. I let my heavy eyelids drop shut and rested in his arms. I could hear the sounds of the warehouse coming to life behind us. It was often quiet during the day. Some slept because they kept us safe at night; some were always moving around during the day, looking for the remnants of their home and families and returned in the afternoon. Usually empty-handed.

It was late afternoon before we really saw anyone. And with everyone returning, so did the injuries, stories, and questions. Jamison had to leave us to tend to someone else’s cuts and grievances, though he was always coming back to check on me. Dad refused to put me down, so as people came back and came to him with questions and information, he sent them away. His thoughts were solely on me and my health, and within the hour, under his watchful eyes, I finally drifted into sleep.

*

‘Gracie…’

I groaned.

‘Grace… c’mon.’

Slowly, I opened my eyes. Everything was blurred, but I could make a shape leaning over me. The hand was cold on my cheek. Light was peeking through the roof. Dead on into my eyes. Groaning, I draped my right arm over my eyes.

‘Are you with me, babe?’

‘Don’t… call me that.’

He chuckled, and many things ran through my mind, nothing complimentary.

‘You feeling all right?’ he asked.

I didn’t dignify him with an answer. I can’t have looked good considering how I felt. I could feel hot sweat dripping down my face, and my clothes were sticking to my body because of it. My head was aching; my left side was throbbing. The pain was still running rapidly through my nerves. I let out a long shaky breath and moved my arm.

The sun was directly above us in the sky. I could see it through the small window in the roof. It had to be about midday… if not one o’clock in the afternoon. The sun was one of the only ways to tell time now. Watches only lasted as long as their batteries, if they survived. I felt as though I had been sleeping for a very long time. My body was stiff, so I assumed I’d slept through the night.

‘Where’s my dad?’ I questioned, my voice croaking.

‘Not here,’ Dimitri replied. ‘He and a few guys went out to get more supplies. They’ll be back soon. He told me to look after you.’

I turned my eyes to him. His blond hair had grown long since he’d joined us. It suited him, but I didn’t find it attractive. His blue eyes watched me intently as I carefully sat up, flinching as pain shot through my torso. His hands caught me halfway, and he helped me sit so I could lean up against the wall. I glanced around slowly. There were a few people still around, all moving around and doing their own thing. From the far corner, Penny smiled at me and stood up from where she had been sitting. She walked over and knelt down beside Dimitri.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Okay,’ I muttered. ‘Sorta… I don’t know.’

‘Here,’ she said softly. ‘Have some water.’

She handed me a cracked glass carefully. I took it with my right hand, leaving my left side alone to stop any more pain. I drank slowly. My dried throat welcomed the liquid. Penny was a very caring woman. She had been one of the first people I’d met here. She was very motherly towards us younger ones. I thought it to just be her nature… and maybe helped along by the loss of her own children. She told me a lot about them. I think it just helped her to talk about them. She’d had three children, all under the age of ten. None of them had survived the first bombings.

Suddenly, there was a commotion at the front wall of the building. We all looked over in time to see a group of men come through the main entrance to the building. A door would be way too obvious. So the door had been barricaded, and we all entered through a hole on the wall, which was well concealed from the outside. The only people who knew how to get in were those whom we showed, and the only ones who got shown wore red bands. The first to come into sight was Jamison, a bag over his shoulder and a gun in his other hand. Carrying a gun didn’t suit him at all. Next, two other men walked in. I didn’t know them well but they had been here a while.

Then my father came in. Now, a gun suited him well, probably because he’d been using guns his whole life. He’d been a hunter before; now he used his gun to defend himself and me. My father never believed in turning a gun on another human being. But now he didn’t have a choice, and I knew it troubled him. His eyes travelled straight over to where I was sitting, and he quickly dumped his bag and gun with Jamison’s before jogging over to us.

‘How are