The Morning After

~.~.~.~.~



Golden dust flying among the breeze, into the window of my truck, through the air grates of the A/C system. Golden light sprayed through the branches of the dying trees, shining on the cracked, broken road before me. I shifted into second, cruising along on the uneven street, letting the large wheels roll, trample, devour the wreckage before them. The engine growled and purred like a furious beast subdued, and my hand, casually splayed upon the steering wheel, was kept taut and alert, ready to control and maneuver this bad boy in a split second if I had to.



Sure, seven days ago I didn't know how to drive stick. Seven days ago I would have screamed and sobbed and buckled at the sight of a gun. Seven days ago, I couldn't tell you what the sky looked like, what the air felt like, where the wind was coming from, because I didn't care. If it didn't exist on the computer screen, it didn't exist to me. It didn't matter.



But—



WoW won't help me survive. Some might argue about sword technique and strategy, but it doesn't help. Trust me—it doesn't help. All it does is make you dream about what you WISH could happen, what you WISH could be true. All it does is blind you from reality, making you gullible, vulnerable, easy prey.



I looked down at the rifle sitting on the passenger seat. I can't fight; my arms are pale, skinny, weak, softened by the computer chair. My legs were the same way; my stomach, perhaps a little softer than my limbs, a little plump around the middle. I haven't looked in a mirror in years, except to pop sore zits and black heads, and I have to ask: is it bad I can't remember what color my eyes are? Is it bad if I can't remember if I have freckles or not?



I imagine I'm pretty scrawny looking to the average Beast, to the average person. So I need to swallow this desire to scream as I look down at the rifle on the seat. WoW won't help me survive. This rifle will.



And so would this truck; it could crush puny cars like mine into oblivion; it could trample lesser trucks and SUV's with ease. Its exterior was super tough, which made it hard for Beasts to lift and crush. It could travel faster than I can walk, which was always a good thing in that day and age. And most importantly? Good gas mileage. I wouldn't have to stop at every town or so to get gas, leaving me vulnerable to the hiding Beast, the stalking Predator. But it was a stick, and I've only ever driven an automatic.



So what? That just meant I drove stick now.



Noises of snarling and the wet smack of teeth flowed into the window from my right. I looked over, watching a Beast decimate a carcass that could have belonged to a Great Dane.  It was perched upon a beaten dumpster, its claws scraping the rusted metal; its back was hunched, naked and dirty with scraps of a Chief's jersey still clinging to it. Its face was ugly and piggish; its cheeks and fur stained crimson with the blood of the dog.



I was a coward, did I tell you that? At the sight of the Beast, which wouldn't have paid me any attention anyway, I revved the engine, shifted into third, and grasped the wheel with both hands. The engine roared ferociously, flying down the street; I jerked the wheel, making it screech as it turned into a clear alleyway. I looked behind me, my eyes wide; the Beast still hadn't paid me any mind.



   It didn't stop my heart from beating as fast as it was, but it did give me a sense of relief. I kept the engine in third, the shift rattling in my hand; I flew past destroyed apartment buildings, fallen telephone poles, crushed cars and play sets, uprooted trees, loose-flying signs and advertisements; just think of all of the apocalypse films you've ever seen, and you'll have a picture of what I saw then. But it's somehow harder to see if it's actually happened to your home town. It hurts to see familiar things obliterated like this—whether it's a house on 3rd street you've always passed, the cobble stoned street you've always thought of fondly, or the family of a close friend.



  Speaking of…



     I turned onto the Main Road, which would take me out of town and onto Highway 15. I had a friend out there whom I haven't heard from in few months; everyone else I had accounted for had been dead, Turned, or made it to a Haven or Europe. But she was a good friend of mine, true and always there when no one else was, and the only reason I hadn't visited her sooner was because of how far away she lived from the City Limit. If anything, it was more dangerous out in the country than it was in town. Sure, it was easier to spot Beasts out in the open, but that only meant it was easier for them to spot YOU as well. Besides, Beasts could be made from many more kinds of animals as well; horses, bulls, coyotes, cougars, and packs of hunting dogs were the trophy winners in this category. Also, the people who were raised in the country were large and tough, big boys that were bred for farm work. Beasts made from these types of people were nothing to be trifled with.



I mean, sure, I could be heading to my death here. Who's to say Mara (my friend) hadn't been Turned or killed already? She's been known to throw my back out more than a few times; she wasn't large to look at, but her arms and legs were incredibly dense, and she was no weakling. A Turned Mara wouldn't be good for the environment. Besides, with all the horses on her property, including Mugh, her Turned animals wouldn't be anything friendly to deal with.



I had to try, didn't I? Besides; I couldn't imagine Mara being Turned or killed. I just couldn't. She didn't seem that type of person.



And if she were—



The truck bumped and roared, having hit a large, elevated rift in the road. I was thrown to the ceiling (I wasn't wearing a seat belt, screw me) hitting it hard with my head and shoulders. The truck was out of my control, and it jerked sideways, heading for a ditch. As I fell, my fingers caught the steering wheel, making a hard left and diverting the wheels away from the ravine. I was thrown into the passenger door, however, and I landed hard on the rifle, which sent my already grinding nerves over the boiling point.



Once I got the truck  under control, I parked it on the side of the road with the engine still running, kicked open my door, jumped out and commenced to vomiting all over the road. All around me I heard noises of Beasts; roars, screams, shouts, and barking, but none of it directed at me. It only made me vomit even more, just from the sheer fear of it, from the horrid beating my nerves were taking from this situation. I wasn't built for this high tension crap. I needed order and predictability in my life; I guess that's why I played WoW so much. Because in that game, it was consistent; noobs played NightElf rogues, level 80's were the Gods of the universe, and you got a Companion Pet every holiday, most defiantly at Christmas.



This right here? This was too much for me. The Beasts were wild and unpredictable, the landscape was different, and even the weather was out of whack; A few days ago there was a blizzard, the day before the leaves were budding, and today the leaves that didn't freeze were changing color like it was October. I couldn't take it, my nerves couldn't take it, and I'm pretty sure I should have died by all rights.

When my knees stopped shaking so much and my stomach was empty, I tentatively entered the truck again, slamming the door and driving on, going into fourth. A little puke had sprayed onto my shorts and socks, but I didn't care; the air smelled like blood and vomit anyway. I looked at the rifle on the passenger seat, and sighed a little sadly. I felt like puking again, but what would be the point?



I turned sharply onto a gravel road, and my fear spiked; I had forgotten Mara's house had been surrounded by trees. It blocked the north wind pretty well, but it hid her house from view of the road. It kind of sucked, since she lived on a hill anyway; I wouldn't be able to see if the coast was clear or not. I'd have to go straight into the danger, if there was any.



The truck had no problems climbing her driveway, even it was the bane of other vehicles. I let the engine die, a move I hated making, but it'd be a worse move to let it sit and use up all of the gas and power. Both were too valuable to me.



I grabbed the rifle, holding it in one arm as I lowered myself cautiously to the dirt. I looked around with wide eyes; a barn, a round pen, another barn, a pasture, the house, some hedges, more pasture. The hedges were low enough to see nothing prowling behind them, but that was it. The place sounded pretty empty and smelled pretty bad, like rotting meat, but I couldn't have been sure that it was completely deserted.



One barn had its doors open, but it was facing away from me. I lifted to rifle to my shoulders, creeping along, looking this way and that but keeping my advance in one straight shot. I leaned against the wall of the barn, looking around, making sure I there was nothing following me; I kept my ears open, seeing if I could hear anything from inside. There was silence. I held my breath, and peeked around the corner, looking into the shadowy depths.



It was empty.



I crept along, keeping the rifle eye-level, but there was nothing there. No one, either. It was simply bare, save for dust and some fencing and a rusty trailer. No animals, not even a guinea hen. My chest squirmed with a little apprehension, but what could I have expected? They probably scattered when there was no one left to mind them.



Which probably meant—



But I couldn't let that thought cross my mind.

There was still one more barn to check; the tack barn, where Mara would saddle up her horses and keep her rabbits. The doors were closed, which kinda freaked me out, but I had to check, didn't I? I had to check.



As I got closer to the barn, I realized I could hear soft, subtle noises coming from inside. As I came upon the door, I could also feel the air thicken a little, get a little bit warmer; there was a pleasant aroma of cooking meat, and it made me feel alright inside. Mara's family were ungodly cooks—it made sense she would have that sort of skill as well.



There was a gap between the doors of the barn; I looked through it, and I could discern a warm sort of light from the inside. The kind of light that came from a lamp. I used the barrel of the rifle to push open the barn door; it creaked as it moved, and the light from the sun flooded into the condensed area. There was no one in there. I opened the door a little wider, and beheld a cozy sort of spot; in the middle was a pile of straw set up like nest, covered with several woolen blankets. A lawn chair, an oil lamp, and small TV sat around the rim of the makeshift bed.



I opened the door fully and stepped inside, lowering my rifle. The noises were coming from a small radio, which played songs from an Ipod that was hooked up to it. A walkie-talkie sat on top of it, and every now and again a voice would issue from it, a young, teenaged sort of voice, going on with random sentences directed at someone else.

The smell was coming from a small grill, set away from the straw so it wouldn't catch fire. There were several pieces of meat on it, steaks and cuts from a large animal I didn't recognize, but from the looks of things the meat was soon to be ready. I smiled a little bit; there was someone living here, the signs were all here. They weren't home at the moment, but maybe, if I waited a while…



But then a shadow fell over the doorway, blocking the sunlight, and my heart froze from it.



I wheeled around, lifting the rifle. My heart bucked into my throat at the sight; a large, black canid was standing in the doorway, its four ears lifted and looking squarely at me. I reacted by shouting and pulling the trigger, even if I did discern the following things in the .15 seconds before I acted:



It was far larger than any dog, even if the dog was a Beast; I was a solid 5' 5", and its shoulders reached above my head. Beasts were usually naked things, no matter their parent species; this thing before me was covered in rich, tightly curled black fur, which carried about it certain musk.



Mara was a black girl, and she treated her hair thus; putting all sorts of scented cream sand gels and conditioners in her hair, she carried that sort of aroma around her, always. She used certain lotions also, so that her skin carried a distinct fragrance as well. I've known her for most of my life, about 14 years, and she's always smelled the same to me; I could close my eyes and hug a random body, and I could tell it was Mara by the fragrance of her hair and the smell of her skin, apparent even under any kind of perfume she might be wearing.



This thing smelled just like her.



It stood in the doorway, having to hunch to fit its head in, and it looked at me with large, deep brown eyes. It struck a chord in me that I couldn't place at the time, what with my panic and whatnot, but there was a time when those eyes would send my heart careening against my ribcage, because I loved Mara once, I really did, but let's just say that sort of thing ended badly. But that's not the point.



The thing had Mara's eyes.



There was emotion in its movements, in the way it looked at me. There was nothing savage about this creature; nothing brutal, nothing instinctual; nothing animalistic. It was a hopeful gesture, a gesture of knowing, and it actually stepped forward slightly, its moist nose quivering hopefully, those deep brown eyes glittering, watching me intently.



But by that time, I had already pulled the trigger.



What with my flimsy courage and bad hip, it was no wonder I missed. The bullet flew passed the creature's shoulder, grazing its fur, but as far as I could tell it didn't break any skin. But the creature backed away quickly, its ears flattening, and there was a panicky hiss issuing from it. I ran to the doorway, keeping the shaking rifle cocked to my shoulder; there was no way in hell I could aim right, what with my limbs weak and my heart pounding and my head spinning, but I had to try, right? I had to try.



The creature continued to back away, its head low, and my chest heaved painfully as I watched it. It made noises; yowls and growls and purrs, whose nuances seemed to be aiming for something resembling human speech.



Well, I guess that didn't have to happen.



Because the creature kneeled, and my gun was shaking, and my eyes almost popped out of their sockets as I watched. The very ground seemed to tremble; the mass before me started to shrink and shift its form; the creature continued to growl and moan, but it's voice started to reach upper octaves, into something much more familiar, much more human—



The rifle fell from my hands. It felt like the first good thing to happen in seven days, since that Night and the outbreak of the Beasts. I could barely walk; I stumbled forward, my arms outstretched, and she caught me before I hit the ground. All I could do was sob and try to keep my head from spinning so much; her arms were tough as ever, so warm and welcoming, and I gripped the filthy fabric of her shirt. She chuckled softly, cheerful and strong and friendly and very much human—



Mara.





~.~.~.~



I tore into the meat greedily, taking it with my bare hands and ripping it with my teeth like a wolf. It'd been so long since I've eaten anything other than Doritos and Swiss Cake Rolls; one would think you could survive on nothing but junk food, but even if you could, you'd start to miss the savory taste of real cooked meat and vegetables.



Mara sat in front of me, her boots kicked up on a bale of straw as she spoke into the walkie-talkie. Her brow was furrowed seriously, and she scratched her hair in a thoughtful sort of way.



"So what's the story by the West District?"



The walkie-talkie crackled and buzzed with a reply: "Dude, it's chaos; place is full of restaurants and crap, and all the Beasts go apeshit around them."



"What's the field like?"



"Full of cars we can't move; the Beasts keep trampling them. There's not much we can do about food because of it; all the Beasts and

Infected keep blocking us off."



I watched as Mara twisted her mouth with worry. "And the corridor? How's that coming along?"



"Slow and suckish, but it's happening. I got Chief over on the East side, and he's got his half up. We should make the connection in a day or so."



"Anything to add to the refugee report?"



"Honestly, Mar? I think we've got everyone we could on this end. Everyone else either Turned or is Infected, and they'll Turn in a few hours or so. We've done the best we could."



"Any Changelings?"



I looked up at the word "Changeling".  This was one term that hadn't been established—or at least, I haven't heard it before. The terms "Beast", "Predator", "The Night", and "Turn" were those most often used by us who still had intellect; I heard them on the radio, on the European News, and anywhere else human life was still able to talk. This was the first time I heard "Changeling", and I wasn't too sure what that was.



That was a lie. I had a very good idea what a Changeling was. I watched Mara sitting back in that easy way of hers, her steel toe boots propped up, her arms rippled with muscle and her eyes with a thoughtful, solemn glint.



There was laughter from the walkie-talkie. "Naw, sorry Mar, you're the only one reported from us so far. We're not sure if NARE knows about Changelings yet; we've been trying to release our signal for them to pick up, but it hasn't happened yet.



"Now it's your turn; give me a report on the Eastern No-Land, yeah?"



Mara laughed softly, and it amazed me how much more mature her voice had grown. "Nothin' much I can add; we got Beasts and hay and round bales to hide behind. I've been around to all the neighbors and checked to see if I could find any survivors, but I got nothin'. However," her eyes flicked over to me, amusement dripping from her gaze; I hastily looked away and continued to attack my meat, "I do have a run-away from town; she's a friend of mine from the East District, you wouldn't have known her. She graduated years ahead of us."



"Is she Infected?"



I shook my head, even as my chest clenched fearfully; what if I was going to Turn? But Mara clicked her teeth and rolled her eyes. "She ain't got none of the signs, and she's been out there for about…what? Six, seven days? If she were going to turn, she would've done it by now, she's too weak to harbor it."



I would have gotten mad at this before that Night, but now I only hung my head, knowing the truth in her words. To be perfectly honest? I probably wouldn't Turn if I caught the virus. It'd probably kill me.



"You're asking us to take her on, aren't you?"



"Hell no! Y'all don't want her over there, and I'm pretty sure she don't wanna go there neither. I mean—hey, I'll ask her if she wanna go, but chances are she'll probably wanna stick around my post or keep going. She was heading east, so I'm pretty sure she knows the pattern o' things. Anyway, that's all the battery power I wanna waste for now."



"Same here."



"You're at Home Depot jackass, I think you can waste batteries."



There was a chuckle. "Don't die on me now."



"Don't you Turn neither."



"If I do, kill me with your silver bullet."



"Screw you."



Mara smiled fondly down at the walkie-talkie before setting it aside, getting her own plate of food. She looked at me, considering me, her eyes flickering down to my feet and up again. My cheeks burned a little, and I still couldn't tell you why.



"You've gained weight."



I averted my eyes. "Well, yeah, I haven't been exercising since I last saw you."



"Your hair's longer."



"Is it?"



I was getting a little annoyed with this, because I didn't know where she was going with it. But she didn't seem to notice; Mara continued to chew her food slowly, thinking about whatever was on her mind. She finally asked me,



"Your folks make it?"



I looked down, and the food in my mouth tasted like lead. "Crystal made it to a Haven with her friends; my ma and pa caught the virus."



There was a pause. "Did they Turn?" Her voice was low and respectful.



I simply shook my head. If you thought I was scrawny, you should have seen my parents.



We continued to eat in a subdued silence. It was Mara who eventually broke it. "I'm sorry to hear that. Truly I am."



"Yeah, well," I said, shrugging. At least the virus isn't as ruthless when it kills. My parents were sleeping when it happened. "What about you?"



Mara snorted. "Zane's in town, helping out with these idiots," She nodded toward the walkie-talkie, "Leanna and Keith…they made it to a Haven in Philadelphia."



I watched her. "And your parents?"



She didn't look at me, and neither did she answer. Mara set her plate aside; she seemed to have lost her appetite.



I knew when I should shut up about certain things. I let her brood about it for a moment, as I looked around, casting about for something

to talk about. The emptiness of the barns caught my attention, and I remembered how many animals she owned. And how the place was deserted now.



"What happened to all your pets 'n stuff?" I asked in a hopeful sort of voice, trying to pull her out of her reverie. Mara shrugged, her lips twisting in that peculiar way of hers.



"We butchered them. Not much use caring for a bunch of animals you couldn't feed. Safer and easier for them just to eat them."



I nodded; that sounded reasonable. "And your horses?"



Her head jerked to the side. I arched an eyebrow, because I didn't understand the gesture; she caught my eye and repeated the motion again, and this time I understood she was indicating the grill.



The meat on the grill.



I gagged and threw the food from my lap. I had to stifle the urge to puke (by now you think I like puking, but that's not the case) because it'd be a waste of good food that I really needed. To be honest, I couldn't tell the difference between horse and deer, save for the fact that the former was fatter, tasted a little bit sweeter, and was definitely the tenderer of the two animals.



Thing is, you're not supposed to eat horses.



That's not supposed to happen.



That's not supposed to happen.



It's a big thing between us; Mara and I were huge horse fanatics in our youth. We both wanted horses so bad we used to imagine that our bikes were Thoroughbreds. When I got my horse, I would take her riding with us. For years we did this, and I'll admit I sort of mellowed out from the horses, even when Mara got her own little herd of them. Just this year I ended up selling my baby, because her boarding fee was too expensive, and I needed the money (for WoW). Besides, I didn't ride her that much anyway (because of WoW), so what was the point in keeping her?



Still, though, you're not supposed to eat horses.



That's not…



That's not supposed to happen.



She looked at me really carefully, and I know she could see the repulsion on my face. "What's the matter?"



"You—I—we—"I couldn't find the words for it. Finally: "Why?!"



"C'mon Ruby, have some sense!" She roared at me, and in that moment I know she felt more pain for her horses than she tried to let on,

"What's the point in keep them? The virus is spreading like wildfire; they would have caught it eventually, and that'd be six new Beasts running around mindlessly. Besides," She spit into the grill fire, "Even if they didn't Turn, some other Beast would probably go after them for prey. I couldn't protect all of them, even if I tried, and in the end what's the point? I couldn't let them run free, I couldn't feed them, and I couldn't shut them away from the outside and hide them in the basement or something. "



I bit my lip. "So you ate them."



"Killing them was the best thing I could have done to protect them. Eating them would show respect."



I closed my eyes, disgusted at the thought that death would be the greatest blessing of all in this day and age. And it disgusted me even more to realize the truth in the idea. "At least they taste good," was all I could say.



She snorted in the semblance of laughter. "It's all that matters. S'all that matters."



Mara swung her boots from their resting position and faced me with an expression full of purpose. In her bearing, I realized how much power she possessed, how much authority; how much wisdom she must now have after all that happened. How much older she was. Older than me, even.



"Ruby, I used to be able to talk to you once."



I swallowed hard; "used to"? Had I really hurt her that much?



"I need you to listen to me again, at least one more time. You've seen me, what I've become since that Night," She paused, her eyelids falling for a second, "I've Changed. That's as best as I can describe it. I've Changed and it's…It's not the same as Turning."



I nodded, since that last bit was apparent. There was no way in hell she could have Turned by now.



"Thing is, since I've Changed I can't catch the virus," she lifted her arms, and they were riddled with fresh cuts and old scars; I realized they came from recent Beast attacks, "I've fought God-knows-how-many Beasts, and I've shown no signs of Turning form the virus. And I'm the best for defense against the Beasts; they won't go up one-to-one against me. If I catch one by itself in the forest, if I'm Changed, it'll run from me."



"But Mara," I cut in with a scowl on my features, "How does one Change? How did you Change? I haven't heard of anyone Changing since the Night; up until now, all I've known is people Turning into Beasts or dying from the virus. What makes you so different?" You might think I sounded a bit rude, and I'll admit I was a little put off; what made her so special to get this ability?



She looked at me carefully, her deep brown eyes heavy, piercing, calculating. "Listen to me," She said in a low voice, "If you haven't been, listen to me now. I need someone to listen to this." As she spoke, Mara reached into her pants-pocket and pulled something moderately large and roughly round in shape; it looked like a rock.



"On the Night it happened, this fell," She reached out with it in her hands, giving me a good look, "I dunno where it came from; Zane was grilling and he took the meat inside, I was still on the porch and it straight fell from the sky, smacked me across the forehead."



It was a stone about the size of an egg, maybe a little bit larger. It was rough and coarse to the touch, but you could tell if someone chose to polish it, it would have the same luster and translucent quality of a gemstone. The stone was a soft azure—no, it was a dark navy—no, it was a fierce electric blue. The longer I looked at it, the more I realized it was continuously shifting different shades of blue, and through the rough exterior of the stone I could see little shards of light swimming across it, flickering and shining and bouncing all over the place.



  I couldn't stop staring at the thing in Mara's hand. My eyes were wide and they probably glittered, but more than that there were things crashing all around me on the inside, sparks of understanding and blazes of truth, as though someone inside me were trying to screw in a light bulb and they fell from the ladder over and over again spectacularly. I was dimly aware of Mara saying: "About an hour after it fell, Fox reported the first case of an Infected, and it continued to spread from there. It started in Washington. In less than a week, it hit home."



It was only when Mara put the stone back in her pocket that I was able to tear my eyes away. I was rooted in place, frozen with my epiphany, and I didn't notice Mara reach behind her possessions to grab a large walking stick and a hunting knife with a sheath belt. She strapped it around her waist, and walked over to the doorway of the barn. She looked over at me.



"It's time for me to do my daily rounds," She scratched her head, "You got a pretty nice set of wheels there, so I guess you can come with. It'll be safer than staying here, anyway; Beasts have been known to stop by, and you aim like a flautist."



I blinked. "Um…sure, I guess I can come with you." I got up, dusting the straw off my knees, my eyes glued to the bulge in Mara's pants, where the stone lay.



Want to know the truth?



…



I found a stone just like it, the Night it all started.



And it's at home, sitting on my top shelf.



~.~.~.~