Survivor Girl (Daughters of New America ) Read online

  Survivor Girl

  by JM Scott

  A Daughters of New America Novella

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Places are used fictitiously.

  All rights reserved.

  © 2018 JM Scott

  © Cover design 2018 JM Scott

  © Illustration 2018 CAB

  Books part of Daughters of New America:

  Solider Girl

  Survivor Girl

  Solitary Girl

  For Carrie

  Part I- The Event

  Chapter One

  I walked into the Wild Cherry on thirty-first. The guy behind counter was, as always, playing on his phone, which meant he wouldn’t pay attention to me and my shopping trip. Five army guys stood at the lottery machine, pumping money in and scratching tickets. Why there was so many army guys in here, was beyond me. I came in almost everyday for my daily snacks and coffee. If the old guy was working, I didn’t come in for snacks. He’s already caught me once for lifting. But then I gave him a sob story about how I was hungry and blah blah. And he was an old softie and said he understood, gave me a number for a youth shelter and made me promise not to come back unless I had money. Except for coffee, I was allowed to come in for one cup a day. He gave all the homeless people and cops coffee.

  I strolled past the army guys and turned the corner to the chip and cookie aisle. I opened my bag and tossed in a bag of chips and a Slim Jim, when one of the guys yelled. I looked up and noticed the young guy was no longer there and there was blood splattered over the cigarettes. I hunched over and peeked around at the army guys, one was talking on the cell phone and there was blood everywhere. The other army guy said, “Back to base,” and pulled on the other guy’s arm. They hustled out of the store. And I was alone in the store with blood everywhere.

  Cars smashed into each other and hit the fire hydrant. Sirens blared in the distance. A car drove into the front window of the store and broke the lottery machine. Lottery tickets spilled out like ticker tape at a parade. I didn’t see anyone in the car. The ground shook beneath me and the power went out. Black smoke curled over the street.

  Should I stay or should I go? There was no way I was going out there. Not right now. Here, I was fine. I had food, I had shelter, which is more than I had on a normal day. I sat on the floor and waited. I needed a plan. I had to protect this place. I was sure the old guy would understand. Some bad shit just went down. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if I was here, if I protected the place until he came.

  After it happened, the sirens were long gone and the smoke was still thick around the store. I wrapped a shirt around my face. I knew I could push the car out of the store window, but then how would I close the window off? I had to look around the back of the store and see what I had available. I found some emergency candles on the shelf and lit up two, which cast weird shadows on the walls.

  I put one on the counter and went behind it. There was blood and bits everywhere, like he had a bomb and it went off. A key ring lay in the blood One of them had to be the store key. I picked up the ring and wiped the blood off. I went to the door, which was not damaged when the car went through the window behind the lottery machine. I tried each key till I found the one that fit. I locked the door, even though there was a large hole in the window.

  I walked to the store room which was filled with more goodies and large sheets of plywood. The old guy had riot protection. I wondered if Mom was okay. We had a falling out a couple of years ago and I’ve been on my own since I was fifteen. Lately, I’ve been having a hard time finding a job and the youth shelter dropped me when I turned seventeen. The ones for adults did nothing but provide a meal and a bed that is if you were there early. I would pick up odd jobs and work along with the illegals in construction jobs. I had some money but not enough to start any kind of life.

  I dragged out four sheets of plywood, the drill and pail of screws the old guy had all together. Like he was prepared for a riot or a hurricane. I wondered if he had a gun or two. But first, the hole patching.

  I tied a shirt around my face. I found a taser under neath the register. At least it was better than nothing. I unlocked the door and stood in the black smoke. Water pummeled the sidewalk. Horns stopped blaring. Cars stopped running. It was silent on the street. And for the first time in my life I was scared.

  I slipped the car in neutral and pushed it backward. The tires flopped against the sidewalk as it came out of the window. I let it coast back into another car. There were seven cars smashed into each other right outside the store. I stood there alone, in a city. What happened? What was that explosion?

  I hurried back inside. How the hell would I put up the plywood myself? I really had no choice in the matter because there was no one else. I found the ladder and started with top pieces. The air seemed to clear little by little as I worked on the top part of the window. My body ached from dragging the plywood around and holding it in place with one hand as I drove screws in with the other.

  Finally, it was done. It could have been hours. The sun poked through the clouds. I came back into the store. It was already getting hot in there. It would be a matter of time before the shit in the cooler would spoil. Unless they get the power back on. My candle had burnt away. I lit another one. I scooped up the lottery tickets, brushed off the glass and laid them on the counter. One of these had to be a winner.

  Chapter Two

  By the second day, it was beginning to smell. I propped the door open for a few hours, but that didn’t improve the smell. I wanted to stay. After all, it was safe and for the time being there was food. But there was this part of me that knew I should pack my winning lottery tickets (they just might come in handy in the future), all the money I could find, the gun which I found last night in his ramshackle office in the back, the ammo, and any supplies I could carry including smokes. Lucky for me, my bag was a big duffel bag. I rolled the money up and shoved it in my jeans pocket. I put all the lottery tickets in a zip lock baggy, and filled the rest of my bag up with whatever I could stuff in there. Then I tied four gallons of water to the straps of the back. The fucker was heavy. Probably carrying all this stuff like I’m a solider girl marching off to war, was not a good idea. Even though I didn’t see anyone walk past the store, there still had to be people out there. I knew from watching movies that there would be a lot of shit heads out there.

  I figured I could always come back. I spent most of days before walking through Allentown. Today would be no different. But it would be, I knew that. I locked the door behind me. My treasure trove would be safe. I could return tomorrow if needed, hole up longer, make smoke signals.

  I decided on walking the ten blocks to the homeless shelter where I would hang out if it wasn’t busy. Cars littered the streets. Fire hydrants were broken but the water has long been diminished. People bits and blood was everywhere on the streets. My shoulders were already aching with the weight of the bag. I was beginning to doubt the whole leaving the Wild Cherry. What I should have done was take a few things and come back before dark. My gut told me different. I was a street rat, and when your gut told you to turn left, you did so. So far, my gut hadn’t gotten in me trouble yet.

  I wondered what time it was. The power was out everywhere around me. I hoped that someone had power or at least one of those hand crank radios to hear the news. I needed to know what happened. Then I thought about my mom. I probably should go and see if she was okay. Sure, we had a rough patch a couple of years ago, but times are different now. We needed each other. I made up my mind to make it as far to where she used to live today, once I checked out the homeless shelter. At the very least,
I could give a worker a key to the Wild Cherry so they can stock up on supplies.

  There was blood on the steps that led to the shelter. I tried to avoid the bits and keep walking. Something moved in the darkened shelter. It was either an animal or a person. I tried the door. It was locked. It was never locked.

  I knocked on the door. “Hey I know someone is in there.”

  I cupped my hands over my eyes and peered into the building. A shadow moved in the corner. It was definitely human.

  “Hey you, I see you. Let me in,” I yelled.

  The shadow approached. He wore ripped pants and had a long beard. He had his shoes off and his toes poked through dingy socks.

  “NO! NO! Go away! The end is near!” He screamed and pounded on the glass door, startling me, and I fell back some.

  He was crazier then normal. He shook and trembled.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. You know me. It’s Holly. We play Gin,” I yelled back at him.

  Then he muttered something, spat on the window and disappeared back into the shadows. It was just my luck the first person I see was a crazy homeless person who should have been in the hospital then on the streets. I frowned and made my way down the stairs.

  I looked at the direction of the sun. I wished I had paid attention to science class when you could figure out approximate time by using the sun. One of the libraries was just down the road. That would be my next destination. It was a big sturdy building that had the radioactive symbol on yellow signs that hung in various places around the library. People would go there. It was a bomb shelter. So whatever was going on, the library would be safe. And where there was people, there was information. I could use information right about now. I had no idea what I was dealing with. Plus, they had phone books. I could look up and see where my mom was.

  Allentown was my home and always has been. Now it seemed weird to walk through these neighborhoods and not hearing the Latino music coming from the apartments or the Spanish being yelled across the streets, the cars that honked at people not paying attention, the planes overhead. Maybe that’s what that explosion was- a plane came down somewhere close by.

  Chapter Three

  I came up around the backside of library. Cars were smashed into each other like a child’s play room. I heard something in the library. Hustling to the front of the building, I stopped at the corner to catch my breath when I saw a guy with a rifle. Finally, someone who hadn’t lost their mind. The gun worried me. I got it, there are shit heads even when the world didn’t end or whatever really happened. I had no idea what even happened. Was it only Allentown? Was it Pennsylvania? Was it the whole world. I stepped back a couple of steps and watched the guy from the side of the building.

  As far as I could tell, he was alone. Faint chatter wafted through the open windows. There were others. I was right, this was a safe place. My gut told me to leave, but I ignored it, took a deep breath and turned the corner.

  “Stop,” he demanded and aimed the gun at my head. Tremors raced through my body.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “Holly Biscayne,” I answered in an almost whisper.

  “What do you want?”

  “Are there more? Survivors? What happened?”

  He kept steady. “What do you want?”

  “To come inside,” I said not knowing what else to say.

  “How do I know you don’t carry some kind of disease?”

  “Is that what happened? Some disease?” I asked hoping to show I was harmless. “I have keys to a store. The Wild Cherry a few blocks up. There’s some food and water. I can give you the keys.”

  The library door opened and another man came out. This man was older than the sentry by twenty years. He also had a gun and shiny black cop boots. I’ve seen this guy before. He was a cop once.

  “Why don’t you leave the keys on the sidewalk and be on your way. Seems like you got plenty for yourself,” Shiny Boots said.

  “Why can’t I come in?”

  Why were they acting like this? How did the others get through this security? I thought women and children were the ones men protected. Wasn’t that how it was in the movies, women and children first? Okay, I wasn’t really a child but a woman. This made no sense. It had been three days since the world went to shit.

  “Girl, you have until the count of three to leave the store keys or I will shoot you right here,” Shiny Boots said.

  Yeah, not going to happen. You want what’s inside the Wild Cherry? Then go up there and break in. I would have loved to say that, but I’m not stupid. My teachers said they saw potential in me. I could have went to college, but I went homeless instead and college seemed like it would have to wait for another day.

  After thinking about my options, I heard the number three and ran. The water jugs hit the back of my legs. My back and shoulders screamed in pain. Gun shots filled the air. I ducked into an alley then down another road, another alley until I could barely move and breath.

  In the alley, there were several dumpsters that didn’t look full and some doors to safety. I tried the one, and it opened. I slipped in and closed it. I lit one of my candles and slid the lock.

  The gun shots seemed far away. I sank onto the floor. In the glow of my candle, I could see I was in a kitchen of sorts. Blood and people bits were scattered over a rack of clean dishes. Maggots covered the grill. Pungent, rotting meat filled my nostrils. There was no way I could stay here long.

  First, I had to figure out where I was before I could make a plan of action. I was not exactly safe here. The restaurant had glass windows. Sunlight speckled the kitchen.

  I waited. I wanted to puke but didn’t. Silence was all around me. The men at the library must have gave up on me. I relit my candle and stood up. Picking up my bag, I looked around the back of the kitchen and found a hallway.

  I bent down and made my way to the hallway. The hallway had a door. A regular wooden door. The knob turned, and I opened it. Dozens of steps went upstairs and then turned a corner.

  Taking a deep breath, I stepped on the stairs and closed the door behind me. I tried to be quiet because I still wasn’t sure where I was. And who knows if someone was upstairs. I stopped before the turn and pulled the gun out of the holster, took the safety off and got ready. I didn’t like that moment. What if there was some old woman up there, and I came in with a gun? Then she died from a heart attack all because I was a little chicken shit. But then again I was trespassing wasn’t I? Whoever lived up here would have the right to shoot me. I reached another small hallway with a door at the end. I called. No one answered.

  I knocked on the door. No one answered. This door also was open so I walked right in.

  Old floral print sofas and chairs were in the center of the living room. One chair, closest to the bay window in front of me, had yarn and knitting needles covered in blood. I placed my bag on floor and kept walking. The kitchen was to my left and someone had left a pot of soup on the stove. I yelled into the apartment. No one answered.

  I made my way down the hallway and opened a door- an office or storage room. It had dozens of books, mannequins, a sewing machine and a cluttered desk. I opened the other door and found a large canopy bed, which was made and inviting. The windows were open all over the apartment letting in sunshine, fresh air, and bugs. I checked the bathroom. I was alone. I still wasn’t sure where I was. I wondered if someone has been here since this shit went down. Judging by the smell in the apartment, I would think not. The pot on the stove had maggots and moldy broth. This would be good enough until I thought of a plan. I knew I couldn’t stay here long. I found a glass in a cupboard and poured water. I carried my gun and glass around as I looked at the various pictures on the walls.

  Many were of the same man and woman. They looked Italian. Both had dark hair and deep brown eyes, with that olive skin. They had kids and grandkids. The most recent photo, they were both old, very old. Both had white hair and wrinkles around their eyes. She held a small baby in a white dress. He had
his arm around her shoulders. And their family surrounded them in some kind of church. And I knew where I was- Marzone’s. The best place to get a slice of pizza for a buck. Old man Marzone would donate the day’s left over pizza to the shelter where I hung out.

  I stared at the baby. How old was this picture? I couldn’t stop thinking about the baby. Was it okay or did it explode to? I tried not to think too much about it. It was depressing. I found a current phone book and looked up mom.

  A. Biscayne 2255 Front Street.

  As far I as I knew there was only one Anne Biscayne. Front Street was good twenty blocks away and the most direct route would be going past the library, which I couldn’t do. What I should do is find a bike, a bike with a basket would be better. I thought I saw some on my way down.

  I locked the door to the apartment. I took my bag, my glass of water and went to the bedroom. The window faced another building and the alley, I figured I could light a candle without being seen. The other room had no windows.

  I lit my candle. Tomorrow, I was going for a bike. It would be the best way to get down to Front Street. I brushed my teeth, kicked off my shoes and lay on top of the most wonderful bed I had ever been in.

  Chapter Four

  I still had no idea what time it was and it was driving me crazy. I woke to silence. Where were the birds? After living in a city all your life, you get used to noise. Silence on the other hand is deafening. For April, the morning was a little chilly but as I ate breakfast, it warmed up. If it got too warm, the smell would get worse in here. I packed my bag and readied my gun. I had no idea if someone came in the restaurant or not. I stopped every couple of steps to listen for noise; I heard nothing.

  Once in the restaurant the sun glared in the main windows. The dining room looked like someone threw pizza sauce all over the walls. I walked out the front door and into the sunshine. I went back to the Wild Cherry. I swore I saw some bikes laying on the sidewalk.