Survival: In The Snakes

Chapter 14

Everyone remembered where they were when the world as they knew it, descended into something resembling Dante’s hell, and devolved into sheer madness. Some were dropping off their kids on the usual school run, some had started their workday at the office , some were going for early morning jogs in the park, but they would all say the same thing; that it began as an ordinary day and the sun was shining brightly.

They would speak of huge amber flashes and the darkening smoky clouds of the once-blue sky. In one afternoon, everything humanity held dear was in ruins.

Miles would listen to survivors’ stories whenever they were willing or brave enough to share. He liked to write them down and collect them in a well-used notebook, although no one could relate the full account, which country ordered the first strike and why, no one knew and truth be told, it didn’t matter. All that mattered now was survival. The horrific memories of that day and the harrowing days that followed were etched into each person’s consciousness like a festering wound that would never heal.

Except him.

He couldn’t remember a thing from that time.

“It’s the trauma.” Sue would tell him. “You’re better off not knowing.”

He would have fitful, lucid dreams some nights, of raging fires and shaking lands. He would have flashes of unknown faces now and then but had no recollection of names and relationships. He hoped one of those faces was his mother, or at least someone from his family he never knew, but the dreams never offered any clarity, and those faces were gradually fading over time.

Since joining Kirkland’s unit of volunteers however, tasked with re-building what was left of LA, he started to think he had finally found a place he’d belonged, a family of sorts.

“I need you and Sue to infiltrate Bank’s compound.” Bryan had revealed a few days ago, in the dark back room of the dilapidated library. His deep commanding voice at a lower decibel and with a conspiratorial tone as he spoke with Miles and Sue alone.

“Us?” Sue had asked. Both were of similar age (although Miles didn’t know his true age as none of his family were alive to tell him and it’s not as if he kept a birth certificate in his back pocket) and both eager to contribute. They had found each other on a long trek along a rubbled highway heading South and had been inseparable ever since. Both diminutive in stature, fair-haired and pale-faced, on first glance they appeared to be feeble and puny.

But both had grown up in the inner circles of hell and had done what it took to survive the hard, cold, ravaged world they found themselves in.

“I need to know the layout.” Bryan had continued. “I need to know the numbers; how many men he’s got there, what resources he has, anything. You get in, you get out and you report back to me. Do you think you can handle it?”

Without hesitation or consultation, they had both nodded.

Now, as they followed the guard to the ominous destination of camp 15, Miles’ eyes darted around as he absorbed his surroundings. With the façade of an old abandoned fast-food restaurant, Banks’ compound soon morphed into something else behind the front building and Miles tried to commit as much as he could to his already compromised memory. He saw at least a dozen makeshift tents, and he noted a twenty-strong motley crew of hardened men milling around, some eating, some sharpening knives or cleaning weapons, their rugged and savage features all focusing on these two young, seemingly defenseless kids entering their domain.

Miles felt like the proverbial lamb being led dutifully to its slaughter.

He glanced in Sue’s direction. Her bulbous eyes widened and twitched slightly as she glanced back at him.

“Camp 15.” The guard declared as they arrived at a tattered dirty tent at the back of the encampment, the number 15 scrawled in what Miles’ could only hope, was red ink. “This is where you’ll stay… until Mr. Banks calls for you.”

“Got any food?” Sue asked in feigned nonchalance, although Miles could see her chest beating and her cheeks slightly flushed.

The guard, a six-foot brute of a man, didn’t reply. He opened the tent flap roughly and gestured for them to get inside.

Miles scanned his surroundings one more time to confirm his mental image of the layout. especially zeroing in on the exits and their distance from the tent: they would be escaping at midnight.

But then he froze.

His body went cold as he spotted a familiar face. He didn’t know the name, but he had seen the face before on many sweaty and sleepless nights.

It was a face from his dreams.

A woman, exiting one of tents, curly wild hair framing her round rugged face. She was older now, skin more weathered and harsh, more lines, but he had seen that face many times in hazy visions as he slept. It was definitely her.

He had to find out who she was . Maybe he wouldn’t be escaping at midnight after all.

Written By:

Thereisnospoon