A Reason to Breathe

By Sunday Jolie

An earth-shattering cataclysm. Millions of lives lost. Those left behind are forced to question if they played a part in their demise.

There was a time when Maia Cameron felt safe and content. The wife of a Marine with three handsome boys, the future was something she looked forward to. Now her only concern w

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fleur de Presse
• Release date: Mar 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9781087954165

Book preview

Chapter One

Leaning against the fallen oak, Maia glanced down at her hands. She noticed she placed them over her womb. This happened quite often lately. Maybe, it brought her comfort. Maybe, it soothed her pain. Maybe, it just meant she was sick to her stomach.

Whatever the reason, there was no time to ponder it. What took precedence was hiding from the two men who were rapidly approaching. Their pungent stench assaulted her senses long before she saw them, and it was getting stronger. She stopped to listen. Without question, they were closing in on her. The savages figured out the tricks women used to blend in, rendering them ineffective. Even with her baggy clothes, her hair tucked in a beanie, and dirt smudged on her face, they saw her. She’d have to find a hiding place, and soon.

Maia raced past the carcass of an old John Deere and scaled a block of what was once an interstate barrier. Perched on top of the broken concrete slab, she judged the distance to the abandoned van below. She hesitated, but there was no other viable option. Holding her breath, she jumped.

Her feet caught the metal hard, as a thunderous roar bullied itself from underneath her. At least it didn’t give way. The problem was, she figured they weren’t that far behind her, and they probably heard that. Even with a head start, she didn’t have the energy to outrun them much longer.

She avoided the debris fields and ran deeper into the woods. Her feet fought the ground, abruptly halting at the sight of what was in front of her. The cab of a pickup truck was buried beneath the earth. The bed of the forty-thousand dollar piece of metal was sticking straight up. Its stainless-steel mounted toolbox saluted the heavens. Slowly, she stepped around the vehicle. The mud and debris from the floods had entombed it up to the rear windshield. Inside the cab, sticking out from the dirt and trash, was a human hand.

Fear paralyzed her, muddling her perception. She couldn’t die here. Her boys would never find her. Being captured wasn’t an option either. She shook it off, reminding herself to think.

She took a deep breath and squatted behind the truck. Ideas raced as she tried to take it all in. The aftermath of the flooding appeared different from this angle. Everywhere she looked, carnage littered the ground. These Louisiana woods were ripe with spots where bodies could go unnoticed. Heck, even before Day One, bodies were easily concealed here. Murderers were known for hiding the corpses of their victims in these killing fields. If they were covered well, it could be years before they were found.

She knew this all too well because she’d once had the opportunity of working for the sheriff’s office, if you could call it that. Amongst the insight and information that she gained during that time, the hardest to swallow was the repulsive acts human beings could do to one another. And to think, what she witnessed then was nothing compared to now.

Pivoting to her left, she observed the area from which she came. Several corpses lay hidden. She hadn’t even noticed them when she ran past. Seeing them was a reminder that the only way to survive out here was by camouflaging one’s self and becoming part of the rot. She’d had to do it one too many times already.

She leaped to her feet and ran. Shoving her way through the dense vegetation and debris, she searched the woods. She spotted a downed tree covered with a thick patch of overgrown brush to serve as her cloak. She wriggled her way in, replacing the dead leaves and ash-covered moss above her, and resolved to wait them out.

Tucked into that tight spot, all she could do was meditate on how much she hated this. She didn’t mind the bugs or sticky foliage as much as the unknown and the waiting. Would they see her? What was their plan for her? How long before they moved on?

Her panting resumed, and the thump of her heartbeat echoed in her ears. She slowed her thoughts and focused on her breathing. Memories of happier times brought a temporary smile to her face. Her breathing slowed, and her pulse followed.

She discovered a void in the leaves and peered out. So much happened so fast. Piecing together the exact chain of events was more challenging than surviving. Still, when she had moments, like now, she had to ponder the enormity of it all. One day, they were content in their suburban homes with their addictive technology, instant café au lait, and cottage furnishings. The next day, chaos thrust them into this miserable and broken world.

The wind caught her cheek as it whistled through the opening, and she rubbed her arms to diminish the chill. The warmth of the Louisiana sun was something she hadn’t experienced for months. After the initial calamity, the torrential rains saturated everything in its path. She inhaled deep, cursing the resistance caused by her mask. She wanted to remove it, but the ash was thick inside her hideaway.

Maia’s stomach turned trying to comprehend it all. The Birch, Cypress, and magnificent Sycamores that once served as a canopy to her ancestors’ hunting grounds now painted a picture of despair. Even the creatures and critters that lived here either moved on or became part of the decay. Those left behind seemed to understand the tragic nature of their circumstances. What she couldn’t figure out is why so many survivors of this tragedy became enemies so quickly.

The zipper on her backpack caught a string, so she gave it a jerk to loosen it. She pushed the other contents aside and pulled out her gun. With the cold metal tight in her grip, the thought that she could take them both out before they got too close teased her. She pulled the slide to be sure there was a round in the chamber when she noticed a familiar burning in her throat. Swallowing hard, she leaned back and relaxed her grip on the pistol.

These men might be good. They might even help her get back to her boys.

No.

She almost laughed at her naivete as she pushed the hope-filled thoughts aside. It was times like this she wished she could give in to this alternative way of life and kill at will, but she couldn’t. Her conscience consumed her, revealing there was too much there already. That settled it. She wouldn’t take their lives unless they gave her a reason.

Maia tucked the gun back in her bag. She lifted her cold hands over her mouth and exhaled. Five months passed, and the sun still couldn’t fully penetrate the havoc that wreaked the atmosphere. She nestled herself tight inside the brush, leaning back on the tree. Once she settled, she shifted her head towards the area she had come from, searching for any sound of the men. There was nothing. An eerie quiet accompanied the significant loss of life. It was impossible to ignore, but right now, she was thankful for the silence. It meant they weren’t near.

* * *

Maia must’ve dozed off for a moment because she woke to a loud thud piercing her ears as vibrations ripped through her spine. She turned to find the source, but it was too late. Someone yanked her by her jacket, and she stumbled out of the brush by force.

Adrenaline sent a shock wave through her body. A scream escaped, but the hand pressed against her mouth muffled the sound. She struggled to get free. Her guns were of no use to her in the backpack, now lying in the mud. Then, she remembered the switchblade inside her pocket. She reached inside and dug around.

She tugged it out and pushed the thumb stud, but as soon as she heard the familiar click, it sprung from her hand. The man held her from behind, so she brought her knees to her chest and then used her weight to drop from his grasp. She probed the muddy mess for the knife while the man yelled out into the distance, Over here. Then he slipped behind her, tightening his arm around her throat once again.

She gasped without hesitation. His arms were heavy, and she fought to catch a breath. She kicked her feet, trying to gain leverage to escape him. The mask fell to her neck, and she drug the ground in search of something to use as a weapon.

Damn. Why you still fighting, girl? There ain’t nothing left to fight for. He tightened his hold, and her breathing became shallower. He whispered, Just let go, sweetheart.

She found a hard, cold object and gripped it. Without looking, she smashed it in his face. The glass broke, gashing his eye and forehead. He released her. While she was catching her breath, she scanned the forest floor, looking for her switchblade. When she found it, she turned and thrust it deep, piercing the closest area of flesh it could find.

He rolled onto his back, cursing and holding his upper thigh. Blood smeared his face. She lunged at him to grab her knife, but a swift kick to her hand ended that.

She stood and then spun around to see the other man aiming a gun at her. Something about the way he looked at her sparked an intense rage. She would not allow another man to do this to her. He’d have to kill her first.

With one hand, he fumbled with his belt. The heaviness of the gun caused the other hand to shake. Either he was panicking or inebriated. Unfortunately, the end of the world only exacerbated that problem.

Take off your pants!

He gave her the once-over like she was sweet potato pie on Thanksgiving Day. He pushed his long, greasy hair out of his eyes, and her stomach churned at the sight of him.

No, she anchored her stance and took deep breaths to calm herself. She needed to focus and allow her muscle memory to take over. We both know a dead woman ain’t worth nothing, but that’s the only way you’re getting these pants off me.

He grinned and tucked his gun in his bag, Oh, really? We’ll see about that.

He charged her. She attempted to hold her ground, but the wet earth gave way underneath her feet. Before she could get up again, he straddled her.

He pinned her arms against her chest with one hand while he attempted to undo her pants with the other, but her body rebelled. She bucked and twisted underneath him. He laughed. Using his knees, he put his body weight on her legs. His expression said he was about to make her pay for everything he’d been through the last few months. She sensed what was coming and turned her head right before he backhanded her.

A sharp sting penetrated her face. She felt the salty warmth of her blood drain down the back of her throat and into her sinus cavities. The metallic taste seemed to heighten her senses. Slowly fading away, her heart pounded while she gasped for air. Then a moment of clarity came, and she remembered her boys. They’d lost too much already. She had to make it back to them.

Chapter Two

Tye glanced sideways to check on his little girl. She was almost fourteen, but whenever he looked at her, he still saw her as the premature baby he held in the palm of his hands. Doctors didn’t offer them much hope. Still, Tye and his wife remained by her side until they could bring her home.

Sadie, you have to keep up.

I’m tired. Can’t we stop just for a minute?

His son, Tye Junior, towered over her, which was comfortingly symbolic to him. It was a reminder that she would always have someone looking out for her, even if he wasn’t there. He despised that his mind would produce such thoughts, but after Day Seven, it became required parenting. Mid-step, his traveling companion halted his thoughts.

Caleb stopped and held up a fist to warn the rest of the crew to follow suit. Once they were still, he shifted and placed his finger over the bandana near his mouth to silence them. He tilted his ear towards the sound and listened.

Caleb Finnigan spent most of his life observing, which can be difficult for a fast-paced city boy born and raised in Boston. The fifth born child of seven, his family comprised four brothers and two sisters. Growing up, he had nothing but hand-me-downs. When he wanted more, he dominated and took it by force. He was attentive and keenly aware of his surroundings, collecting ample amounts of information and resources for ammunition to use at a later date. What his siblings called manipulation, he called business, but today, he called it surviving.

What is it, Dad? Elex tried to whisper, fear gripping his tone.

Caleb faced them, Not sure. I thought I heard something. He noted the tired eyes staring back at him.

Look, guys, I know you want to rest, but we have to keep moving. It’ll all be worth it when we’re sleeping somewhere safe tonight. Come on.

Some sighs escaped, but eventually, the shuffling of feet ensued, and so did the kicking of Sweetgum balls. The spiky nuisance was the only entertainment they’d had all day. Well, that and watching Junior waltz right into the woven wonderland of a banana spider, and then subsequently squealing and jumping around, like a ten-year-old girl. When they finally quit laughing, they had to calm him down long enough to convince him the spider wasn’t on him. Good times.

The five of them trekked through in search of a secure place to make camp. The past few weeks, they tried holing up in houses off the major highways. But too many encounters with ordinary people, stealing out of desperation or savages seeking to capture and rape, had forced them to take their chances in the woods. They needed to find something permanent, but tonight, they would settle for safe.

Caleb flinched and then pointed at the ground. Whoa, did you see that?

He saw Tye examining the area for something of significance. Tye looked at him like he’d just sworn he was a unicorn, See what? He asked.

Caleb had spotted a pile of leaves moving right before he saw the snake slither out in front of them. He had an inherent desire to establish his position in the food chain, so he showed the snake who’s boss.

Though he’d never admit it, he was sweating bullets. Urban boys dealt with rats and cockroaches, not snakes. But Caleb never faced a challenge he wouldn’t take head on, or off, in this case. He cornered it, pinned it down, hacked its head off, and then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tye and Junior giggling.

What’s so funny? I didn’t see you trying to kill it.

Feeling the need to break his stones, Tye strolled over and slapped him on the back, Thank you, oh Great One, for ridding the world of that deadly Milk Snake.

Caleb took a step back. Milk Snake? That’s a Coral Snake. I don’t know what no Milk Snake is, but I know coral stripes when I see ’em.

Red and yellow can kill a fellow. Junior picked up the headless snake and then pointed to the bands, Red and black, a friend of Jack.

Can’t even get a thank you around here. Bunch of punks. He let out a muted laugh. Let’s go.

He knew he couldn’t navigate this unfamiliar territory, so Caleb depended on his good buddy for the task. Tye was born and raised in the South, and although these woods weren’t his usual stomping grounds, he knew the landscape. If all went well, they’d spot a home tucked away on a private road and spend the night there. If not, they’d be sleeping in another deer stand. Either way, they were better off than if they were still in the city.

A smile emerged on Tye’s face as he watched Elex attempt to walk in his dad’s footsteps. It was the little things that kept them going nowadays. Then, they all stopped dead in their tracks.

Now that, I heard, Junior said.

A pile of debris was nearby, so Caleb and Tye led the kids to it. With their offspring hidden, they snuck around to find the source of the noise. They concealed themselves behind a cluster of trees and got a good look. Caleb’s body thrust forward to help, but his buddy placed a hand on his chest to stop him. Stunned and unable to move, Tye shook his head. His primal inclination was to help a woman in need, but this wasn’t the same world it was five months ago. His kids had to come first.

A chill invaded him, and he felt the sweat drip down his forehead. He knew what might happen if they intervene, but then, he felt Caleb’s hand on his shoulder.

Caleb whispered, I’m not saying we do anything, but if we do, save the bullets. It’s only one guy. We can take him. He put his head down for a moment and then looked back at Tye. But we really should just walk away.

Tye’s humanity wrestled with his instinct. They needed to go now if they were leaving. The determination he had to protect his family would allow him to go without carrying guilt. Still, he wasn’t strong enough to witness this man defile some poor woman.

Then Tye saw something that jogged his memory. His face lit up, and his mouth went dry. He fixated on the scene playing out before him.

A few yards away, the man struggled to get the woman to comply. Another attack from him was imminent. When he did, she spat a mouth full of blood into his eyes. When her hands came free, she thrust them against his shoulders. Given the room she needed, she shifted her body from under him, putting her legs into position to inflict damage.

Tye gasped, I know her. He gave Caleb a face that suggested grave concern. Without another thought, they both rushed to save her. Caleb tackled him to the ground as the man swung at him, and Caleb slammed his fist into his jaw until he submitted. He grabbed his pistol and pointed it at him. Don’t move!

Tye ran over to the woman. He pulled her up and struggled to stabilize her. Her legs wobbled underneath her, and she looked mad as hell. Are you okay? Tye asked, as he held onto her shoulders.

When she looked up at him, he could’ve sworn there was a glimpse of recognition in her eyes. He was about to say something when that familiar pain struck him right between the legs. He buckled over in agony, and then watched as she grabbed her backpack and took off into the woods.

Damn it! Tye collapsed, holding his manhood, trying to will the pain away.

Quit being a lil’ bitch and get over here. There’s another one under that tree.

Caleb held the gun on them, though the guy Maia stabbed was unconscious. The other one claimed she stole from him, and he was trying to get his stuff back.

Yeah? Out of her pants? Caleb kicked him, Save it, jackass. I’m not gonna kill you unless you do something stupid.

With the ache somewhat subsided, Tye made his way over to Caleb and helped remove their boots. They tied them up using the laces and braided belt one of the guys had been wearing. It might not hold them for long, but they did it anyway to give themselves, and Maia, a head start.

Caleb stuck his foot on the leg of the younger man and ripped the knife from his thigh. Blood gushed. That don’t look good. He said, while cutting up a t-shirt and then tossed a piece to his buddy.

Tye recognized the switchblade. It was a combat knife, and he was sure he knew and highly respected the Marine who owned it. For a split-second, pride enveloped him, and then he got a whiff of the man’s stench and wrinkled his nose. He smells like a distillery, Tye said, as he tied the t-shirt strip around the eyes of the loudmouth who was still attempting to negotiate.

C’mon, man. Let me go. We can all go after her. After we get a piece, we can sell her.

Tye and Caleb weren’t entertaining his offer, so he persisted, mumbling through the mouth gag. Dude, listen! A whole herd of Yanks just got here, and they all looking to buy. You know what they trade for healthy women like that? You see them hips, man?

Tye could no longer resist. He summoned the pain from his groin and directed the energy to his fist. He threw two punches, knocking the guy out. Agosta: 1. Guy who won’t shut the hell up: 0, he said, a throwback to his days in the ring.

Placing his finger on the injured man’s neck, Caleb checked for a pulse. It’s faint, he said. Then, he tied a piece of the t-shirt around the wound. If he lived, he lived. If not, so be it.

They dug through the men’s belongings, keeping what they might use, and then tossed the rest far away from them.

Tye noticed Caleb glance at his watch. What time is it? 

Almost one o’clock. We gotta get moving.

Tye jogged back to the kids. Everybody okay?

Yeah, Junior said, while the two youngsters glared back at him.

They snatched their gear, rounded up the kids, and then took off again.

Tye was sure they’d stumble across something soon. Hundreds of years living off the land meant Cajuns and Creoles were religious about hunting and fishing. He’d lived and played here long enough to know that deer stands, tree houses, and hunting camps were typical in these backwoods. And today, they’re mostly abandoned. The last reports they heard stated that more than half the world’s population was gone. Though it was always on their mind, it was something they tried not to dwell on. Surviving was complicated enough without that burden.

You sure you know her? You couldn’t even see her face.

Oh, I know her, alright. I’m positive. She was one of my best students. After the rape escape technique, the one you just watched her do, she always kicked four times with the right foot, and then one time hard with the left. Pop, pop, pop, pop, POP! He said, motioning with his hands. Most people alternate, but not her, he recalled with a chuckle. She wouldn’t do it any other way.

I guess, it’s a good thing she took your class.

Tye’s mind drifted, Yeah. Her husband, Lance, he’s a good buddy of mine. We went to high school together. That’s a character there. I don’t remember if you ever met him or not. He was gone a lot. Marine with three tours in Iraq. He looked over at Caleb. He didn’t like that she was alone so much, so he asked me to train her. Tye adjusted his backpack. I worked out with him and the boys the week before everything went to crap. I can’t imagine him leaving her out here by herself. I wonder what happened to them.

I wonder what happened to them.

Statements like that caused people to drift off in memories of their family and friends. Everyone had lost someone. Most people had lost many. Some lost everyone and everything they’d ever known. Look. Is that her? Caleb said, pointing to what appeared to be a slim figure, darting from tree to tree.

Could be. I thought she’d be much further by now, though. He pulled out the binoculars they’d just taken off of the jerks they tied up. He adjusted the lenses, but the dust and the haze made it difficult to see at that distance. I don’t see anything. He shrugged his shoulders at Caleb.

Let’s keep an eye out. If that’s her, she might be hurt. I hope it’s not hers, but I got blood on my hands when I touched her, he said, holding out his hands for him to see.

Caleb nodded in agreement.

Chapter Three

Maia rushed through the winding thicket, almost collapsing several times, as she cut sharp corners. Too bad Mother Nature wasn’t into Feng Shui. That would make things a lot easier. It was a wonder how anyone could make it out of here in one piece.

She pushed herself to go thirty more seconds as she dodged a fallen limb and barely cleared a cluster of waterlogged maple roots. Again, she forced herself to go thirty more seconds when the time was up, but her body didn’t want to cooperate.

Maia continued to play mental games to psyche herself up, and most of the time, it worked. She ran down the slope, thanking God for physics the whole way. The momentum gained allowed her to get into a stride. She felt good about her progress, but just as things looked up, she fell into a pit of quick dust. She pounded her fists on the ground.

Quick dust was a term her group not-so-affectionately coined because of its similarities to quicksand. Water seeped from underground, saturating the dirt and dust, and turned it into a concrete-like mixture. It was hard to walk through, worse to climb out of, and you couldn’t let it dry on you. That was torture.

Breath by breath, she trudged her way out of the trap. She stomped the funk off her shoes. Her legs felt weak and shook uncontrollably. She ignored the pain and trampled several boxes of moldy snack cakes to get to the next visual goal she’d set. The deer stand seemed so far away, but it should take mere seconds to reach in reality.

She willed her heavy limbs to move and then rounded the bushes. It felt as though someone punched her in the gut. She wailed, Oh God, why do you hate me? She knew she was loud, but it was as though she didn’t have the energy to care anymore. Her body tensed as a gust of wind slapped her face. She caught herself on a tree and scraped her fingers through the fraying bark. She’d just been through here. The remains of a lone hunter peeked through the cracks in the elevated hideout. She noticed him the first time she passed through. The dead were everywhere, but their service to the living as landmarks was a necessary inconvenience.

Some of them died where they stood or slept, while others came in by the floodwaters. In the beginning, people who attempted to seek refuge in these woods didn’t always make it out alive. They were murdered at the hands of thieves or fell victim to Mother Nature. The domino events were marked by The End of Days - Day One through Day Seven. Most argued that the #EndOfDays actually began when deadly viruses and the flu swept through the world, killing hundreds of thousands of people within a few short months. It didn’t matter now when it started. What was fixed in everyone’s mind was that Day Seven was the last day of news reported by the media before they went off the air. After the natural disasters, starvation, infections, and illnesses brought on the most visits from the Angel of Death.

Looking up at that dead man, she faced the grim reality that the only reason she stood a chance in the woods today was that most of the population had perished. The remaining survivors found their tribe with others like them and banded together. All of that added up to fewer people in the woods. Well, fewer who were alive in the woods, anyway.

A familiar ache rolled in her stomach. Out of fuel, she made her way around the tree, looking for a way into the deer stand. She found it, but there was no ladder. He must’ve pulled it up once he got inside.

A road sign was in plain view, mere yards away. Maia debated whether to bother with scavenging the dead man’s supplies, but she needed energy if she was going to make it out alive. She walked over to the sign and lifted it. It felt like it weighed a ton. She dragged it over, and before she could change her mind, jabbed it up into the corner of the deer stand. The rotten wood cracked. She waited, hoping it would cave. It didn’t.

The failed first attempt gave her time to contemplate. If she hit the wood again and it collapsed, it would make more noise. She stumbled as it became impossible to prioritize or even separate all the thoughts clouding her mind. She lost her nerve and her strength. The double-edged swords were laughable, if only she had the brainpower to be amused.

She pushed aside every other thought in her mind and decided to live. She had to do it. If ever there was a reason for all those squats and lunges, it was now. Before her body signaled her head to resist, she grabbed the sign again, bent her knees, and then thrust every bit of energy, weight, and hope she had into the bottom of the deer stand. It fell, and the dead man plummeted to the ground. The odor sent her stomach into rebellion. She dry-heaved until stomach acid burned her throat.

Her eyes watered, so she pulled her safety glasses away to relieve the moisture and then put the bandana back over her face. She grabbed some vapor rub out of her bag and put it under her nose. It only camouflaged the smell, but some bodies were riper than others. This one was definitely ripe.

She tore through his bags, looking for food and water. Once the contents were emptied, she dropped to the ground, shoving the bag aside. He had nothing. The poor man likely died of starvation. Reality at its finest. She looked over at the dead man, searching for any sign of who he once was.

Early on, Maia attempted to cover and pay respects to each soul she encountered. She’d say a prayer, and if she could find a name on an ID, jewelry, or anywhere else, she’d write it down in her notebook. To her, it was a sign of respect to acknowledge mail lady Sondra, Thad from Wilbur Middle, Judy the Waffle House waitress, and Seth, the chemical plant operator from Mississippi. It paid homage to the owners of the tents and sleeping bags that became signs, pointing her in the direction of the place she now called home. If only she could get back there now.

This man left no clues about his identity. It was just as well. She didn’t have the strength to dig out her notebook and jot it down, anyway. She reached over and grabbed his empty bag, tossing it over his face. That would have to do.

Unfortunately, this stretch of land was unknown to her, and the dead man just became another landmark. She stood, struggling to move. Her throat burned from the heavy breathing and dry heaving. The crusted