Anymore

ANYMORE

By Virginia Llorca

Smashwords Edition

April, 2012

Though she be but little, she is fierce.

--William Shakespeare

CHAPTER ONE

Daddy being in the military, or so went the official job description, you can bet Deanie got the drill at least once a year when the newest version of the survival manual came out. The first aid kit, military issue, containing lots of stuff you couldn’t buy at Osco, how many MREs were recommended, the pills for radiation exposure, the amount of water per person, the tables telling you when it was safe to go outside depending on where you were in relation to the nuclear strike, or gas release, or germ outbreak. The philosophical shorthand about when you should protect your family in face of certain situations. Deanie tried not to laugh when Daddy went through it with her. But she couldn’t help but interject remarks about what if it was this specific type of alien from this particular planet, and what if they said they were friendly, but they were liars. The one thing Deanie did not pick up on was the fact that daddy was dead serious about it this year, didn’t sound rote like previous drills. She would have picked up on the fact that there was a reason he was so serious about it now if she had been older or more sophisticated, but she was only eleven. Well, almost twelve.

Actually it was getting to be a big pain in the neck, mom giving her all the talks about the eggs and the sperm and the periods, daddy at work twice as much as usual, Brian fretting for attention as was due his newly walking stage of life. Everybody making sure the house was baby proof just on the normal now he can and will try to get into everything in his reach basis. And Deanie liked school. She liked learning. She had great friends, learned with ease, enjoyed it, was well-liked, respected, and she knew already the boys thought she was pretty cute. She was sure she had the greatest family in the world, but still, it was that time in her life she felt like they should be giving her a little more alone time, a little more say in certain decision making. Hey, mom! Isn’t it you always talking about the rough road to autonomy? Boy, would she learn to rue the day she first thought of that.

And, in retrospect--a new thought process she didn’t really like--she realized that no matter what homeland security prepared for or thought they could prevent, they had no clue. Humans. They made mistakes. She wouldn’t say the words out loud that she heard the eighth graders say so often, but seriously, Deanie thought, what a bunch of fucking assholes. How could they let this happen? And a mistake? By mistake? Someone made a mistake?

But lately having so much time to think, she really thought daddy was super cool to have watched all those survival shows with her, like Bear Grylls, and talk about it with her, like she wasn’t a stupid, Barbie Doll, flaky, little girl. Now she realized there had been a subtext to his attention, so, even more, she remembered him with so much love and gratitude. It made her miss him so much more.

The last few times, despite her mother’s protests, he had let her go hunting with him, too. It ended up she couldn’t actually shoot an animal, but they had fun setting up targets and messing around, shooting at them. He let her try his bow, but she was nowhere near strong enough to pull it. The way he laughed, she figured he already knew that, but still wanted her to give it a go. And he made sure to tell her that they came in different sizes and strengths. It did cross her mind once or twice why he suddenly needed to share all this information with her, but she figured it was just a daddy thing and kind of thought it meant he knew she was growing up which made her kind of proud. If she ever thought she could hunt, it for sure left her mind when daddy dressed out that deer.

***

On her eleventh birthday, much against mom’s objections, daddy took her to the shooting range. He had this nifty little Glock that he said was a good size for her, and he said it was her birthday present, but for the time being, and so mom wouldn’t get too upset, dad would just say it was his. But Deanie, don’t ever forget, this is for you. Treat it with respect and soon you will realize it is a part of your life. Like lipstick and stuff.

Yeah, daddy. Like anyone wears lipstick anymore.

You totally get what I mean, babe.

Yeah, daddy. Totally. Never picking up on how really serious he was.

***

Then the kids at school started to get the flu. But they were out for the sick days and didn’t come back. And Deanie was one of the first to get sick. Then the news broadcasts confirmed there had been an accident in Atlanta at CDC. Dad said they had to say it was an accident, but it probably wasn’t. You know I can’t talk about that stuff. Then the school closed, and the broadcasts were fewer. Some of the news broadcasts mentioned mobs, and looting, and cities in flames, but that it seemed to be dying out on its own. Subtext was that the perpetrators were dying out. Soon there was no TV at all, just that static, like when the cable went out in a storm. Storm, thought Deanie. Shit storm daddy would be saying. Then radio only sometimes. And mom didn’t feel good and Brian was out of it. Dad went to work and the last time he called on the cell phone mom couldn’t even talk. He said he was ill and going to the hospital. But Deanie had seen the broadcasts of the mobs at the hospital and the people dropping like flies. Even the medical guys with the masks and everything. And she knew if he ever made it to the hospital, even if they would let him off the Base, he would never get in. She was pretty sure he never got very far. Mommy was out of it in 24 hours, and Brian just laid there in mom’s arms, his skin white, cheeks bright red circles, sweaty, runny nose and eyes, gasping for each breath. He was gone before mommy, but Deanie was glad her mom didn’t know it, she was already so ill.

Deanie was feeling better every day and wondering why everyone else wasn’t getting better. She had heard them say at first it was airborne and controllable, enough vaccine available, but by the end of a week they had finally admitted it had been designed as a weapon but was released accidentally. They began giving emergency instructions, saying it had mutated out of control. The very fact it had shown up all over the world in virtually the same period of time--well, everyone knew it was no accident. But who ever had the great idea never got a chance to take credit for it, and probably never imagined it was this bad or could ever get this bad. No countries were vying for power because now there were no countries.

***

The manuals and lectures had always emphasized survival technique. They said no matter if it was Nuclear or germ or gas warfare, it was statistically proven that thirty percent of the population would survive. Deanie already knew how off base that was. Her village had about 15,000 people in it, usually, and she hadn’t seen a live soul in days. She saw a few cars go buy a couple of days before, but lately, nothing.

She had to bury mommy and Brian. She started to find shovels and pick a nice spot, but then she got a better idea. She took them next door to the Knowles’ house. There were six of them, and four had been at home, and, of course, they were dead. So she wrapped them up respectfully, made sure Brian had a clean diaper, his pacifier, his favorite bear, and his blankie, and put him in mommy’s arms. She put the book mom was almost finished with when she got sick next to her, and said prayers and words of her own. It was hard to talk, she was crying so hard, and it was really hard work, since she still wasn’t feeling all that great herself. But she took everything out of the Knowles’ house that she thought would be useful. For some reason, that meant it couldn’t weigh very much. Even though the plans to set out from here had not really jelled in her mind, she soon realized that was what she was planning for. No tin cans, too heavy, but a little can opener for whatever she might find along the way, anything in Mylar, soft and easy to pack, and gold. She had an idea if there was ever going to be anything like a sales transaction again in history, it would probably be starting at the brass-tacks, barter stage, so gold seemed like a good idea. But necklaces and bracelets. She could get a lot of them on her ankles without it being too heavy, and she figured the extra weight would make her stronger. She knew she didn’t need lots of clothes because they could surely be found everywhere. Then she set the Knowles house on fire.

Some other houses in the subdivision were burning or had burned and she checked them out to see if it was set by someone like her--she was already referring to herself as a survivor--but she realized most of the fires were caused by gas explosions or electricity gone amok. There was no one around. She took her iPod and two from the Knowles house and her mom’s and a charger. Later she would question her priorities, but she was an eleven year old. She figured when electricity stopped flowing, and she knew it would soon have to, she could charge them in cars along the way.

***

She’d been making lists for a couple of days and trying to imagine worst case scenarios. She hadn’t seen a live soul for days, but she knew she would, sooner or later, and if she did, it probably wouldn’t be good. A backpack, two waist packs, a holster with the Glock and a shotgun, only one water bottle, those filtration tabs and potassium tabs from the first aid kit, and some of those drugs. She knew what the bacitracin and aspirin were all about, but figured, if necessary she would use the shotgun approach to medicating with that ampicillin and codeine and stuff. She was ready to go. The weather was beautiful. The little plastic Star Wars watch she took from next door told her she had missed her birthday. She was twelve now. She was ready. Besides, this subdivision smelled awful. Why were there no buzzards or crows? Well, there were a few, but the neighborhood sure could have used a few more. She figured they must have gotten sick too. She saw a doe walk down the middle of the street one day, browsing at the yews and the newly emerging tulips, looking healthy and fat. Deanie hope she was pregnant and maybe there would still be deer in the world. Or, more likely, she would end up as someone’s dinner. She saw no cats and only one or two dogs. They must have gotten sick too. Their family dog was long gone, vomiting, foaming, seizing, tiny thing, had no back-up resources, thank God it was over quickly. Poor little guy. For sure, if there were any coyotes or dogs around she would be seeing them and it must have been the germ. They certainly wouldn’t be starving given the banquet awaiting them, just in her neighborhood.

CHAPTER TWO

She always knew she had to go West. North would get too cold, South too hot, and East would be big cities. Anyone left that might not be so nice would think that holing up in the city would be the best idea. Not for long, Deanie knew. Her instincts, that she had always known were worth following, told her West was the way to go. She would worry about that big River when she got there. If she got there.

She certainly had no reason to hurry. The first few days, she felt on edge, but the closer she got to the wooded areas, the more comfortable she felt. Still, the further apart the houses and stores were, the less she had opportunities to eat and drink. She was learning what she needed to take and what she needed to leave. She was going slowly, a few miles a day. Resting often because she was a little too anxious to sleep well at night and not back to one hundred percent since that awful flu. And constantly keeping her guard up was really exhausting. But she soon began to relax and get used to the rhythm of her days.

It seemed most of her energy was spent on learning how to be unobtrusive, learning not to leave a trail, learning not to impact any area she lingered in. Whether it was an animal or a predatory human, Deanie wanted to be sure she knew they were there before they knew she was there. She was sharpening her senses and becoming aware of