fiction – Emily's Rovings

Chapter Six

We pulled apart, smiling at each other as we turned to continue along our way. Max’s smile faded and he looked as though he were listening for something. Stilling, I strained my ears. The continuous roar now sounded different, and wrong. It was deeper and louder than it had been before. I scrunched up my face in confusion. It did not make sense. We were farther away now. The sound was growing even louder, forcing us to turn back to look. To the east, in the distance, a large light-brown mass was moving towards the bridge. A landslide. We needed to leave quickly. The ground around the ravine was already unstable and a landslide would only make things much, much worse.

As we began to run, I shot one last look behind us. I froze. Someone was on the bridge!

“No!” I screamed, pointing. Max’s gaze shot in the direction I pointed and locked onto the person – a middle-aged man. Where did he come from? I wondered even as I started running back towards the bridge.

“Katherine!” Max’s yell was faint over the roar. He ran up beside me, dragging poor Amy along. “We can’t help him!” He grabbed my arm, pulling Amy and I away. Max’s fingers tightened almost painfully as I strained against him.

“Stop, Max!” I screamed, “We can’t just leave him!” My pleading eyes met with his as he turned back to face me.

“I’m trying to protect you!”

“Who is going to protect him?”

“I don’t care about him! I need you both, not him!”

“That is so selfish!”

“It’s the only way to survive, Katherine!”

We stared at each other, angry, breathing hard. I took the opportunity to yank my arm out of his grasp, which had loosened during our argument. I spun around, running the last few paces to get as close as I dared to the end of the bridge. I shouted and waved my arms, hoping to get the man’s attention, but the man never looked up from the bridge. His focus was on making it across. Max was suddenly at my side, joining my attempts to catch the man’s attention.

At that moment, the man glanced up, looking in our direction. I desperately waved my arms and yelled. His eyes locked on to me and I vigorously pointed at the oncoming landslide. He turned, his body stilling. He knew. He knew he could not outrun it and at that moment, so did I. The landslide was horrifyingly close now – the water and dirt and boulders churning in a deadly and unstoppable flow. The man was in the middle of the bridge, but regardless of his slim chances, Max had gotten out our rope and was tying a stick to the end of it. He threw it and it sailed about a quarter of the way across the bridge. Max picked up Amy, grabbed me, and brought us back to the tree line. The man dove for the end of the rope, hitting the ground hard, before picking himself back up and continuing to run. The landslide hit the bridge. The bridge held momentarily, but the slurry quickly rose, pressing forcefully against anything in its way. The man had fallen down, but was still holding on to the rope. Max began to pull the rope towards him at an impressive speed, but just then, the bridge collapsed. It was almost surreal the way it melted into the water. I barely seemed to hear the sounds of landslide and bridge colliding, but instead, heard clearly the sounds of Amy crying and my own chocked-back sob. Tears burned my eyes as I strained to see any sign of the man. Max cried out in pain as the rope yanked against his bare hands, the torrential landslide trying to rip the man off the end of the rope. Max strained, pulling the rope – this time far more slowly – towards him. Suddenly, Max fell backwards, the weight on the end of the rope disappearing.

“No!” He yelled, scrambling to his feet and yanking the rope towards him . I covered my mouth with one hand as I pulled a sobbing Amy to my side with my other. The end of the rope slipped up over the edge of the ravine. No stick, no man. Max’s shoulders slumped and he stumbled back against the tree. Chunks of the ground began to fall away at the edges of the ravine.

“We need to go.” I managed as I put my hand on his shoulder. He stared, a blank expression glazing over his face. Larger chunks of dirt crashed into the torrent. Amy screamed as the chaotic scene edged its way closer to us. I shook Max’s shoulder “Max, please!” My voice was desperate. Why was he suddenly so intent upon saving the man? Finally, Max seemed to come out of his stupor. He blinked, then looked at the crying Amy, hugging my leg. Without a word, he quickly coiled the rope and picked up Amy. Then we ran.

The landslide had continued to widen the ravine and spill over it sides, so that a shallow, eighteen inches of slurry had already begun rushing through the tree line. We ran farther into the forest, but the landslide was catching up with us. I turned to look back at how close the it was, then looked down as I felt my feet get soaked. It was all around us.

“Faster!” Yelled Max, but I could still barely hear him, and now, we were running thought a thick, watery flow. A small, golfball-sized rock hit my ankle and I cried out, nearly falling. Max reached out an arm to steady me and I grabbed onto him as we pressed on. The muddy water was now up to our shins. If we don’t get out of this quickly, we are going to get swept away. As if my pessimistic thoughts had manifested, the raging water, knocked me off balance. I felt my hand tear from Max’s and saw him knocked to his knees, still holding Amy. Sharp pain radiated throughout my torso and I gasped, spluttering at the dirty water entering my mouth. I could not move, could not breath, as the water rushed maddeningly around me. I am going to die. Just like that man. Just like my family. Just like everyone else. I felt a resigned sort of peace at that. Death would not be so bad in comparison to this, would it? But this world was not done with me yet. Firm hands grabbed me under the arms and pulled me to my feet. I winced at the pain, but did not cry out.

Miraculously, we stayed on the edge of the landslide, holding on to each other and trees to keep steady. I felt nothing. The man had died and I felt nothing. I should feel something. Was I so broken that I no longer mourned the loss of life? Yet, despite the lack of emotion in my mind, somehow, my body still allowed a few tears to fall as we walked. The silence became deafening as we made our way further and further away from the landslide. We made no effort to break it.

When we finally had trekked far enough away from the landslide that a we felt reasonably safe, we stopped at the base of a large tree. Max let Amy down and peeled off his backpack. Bits of drying mud flaked off as he did so. We were all covered in the dried, muddy water. I groaned as I stared at the sunlight dancing in the large, flat leaves of the tree above me. I gasped as another wave of stabbing pain radiated from my ribs. After a few moments of silence, Amy’s face appeared above mine.

“Are you sick?” She asked.

I groaned again. “No” I managed a smiled that I hoped was reassuring. “But I did get a little bit hurt, so I just need to rest for a while.” Amy frowned. She did not look convinced. Her face disappeared and I heard a patting sound in Max’s direction as if she were tapping on his arm.

“Kathrine needs help.” Amy’s quiet, frightened voice sounded. I turned my head towards her, surprised. Speaking like that was rare for her.

“Amy-” I started, but Max had already pushed himself to his feet and strode over to where I lay. He knelt beside me.

“What hurts?”

What doesn’t? I thought, but tried to focus on what I thought hurt the most. “My ribs. From when I fell.”

Max gently lifted my shirt up to just below my chest, his fingers brushing my skin ever so slightly. “You’ve certainly got some nasty bruises.” He gently felt along my lower ribs, working his way up one by one, first on the left side, then the right. I sucked in a breath. Pain stabbed as his fingers rested on a rib on my right side about half way in-between my bottom rib and my chest. “That one?” He asked. I nodded, gritting my teeth against the pain. “It certainly feels broken.” He continued checking the other ribs. “Does anything else hurt?” He asked, as he finished checking for more broken ribs. When I answered in the negative, he gently pulled my shirt back down. As he pulled away, I suddenly noticed his hands – raw and torn from the rope.

“Max!” I cried out. “Your hands!”

Max grimaced, “They’re fine.”

“No they are not!” I protested. “They look awful! They are going to get infected if you don’t clean them.”

“I will, but first I need to check on Amy.”

Amy shrank back, pressing herself against me.

“Come here, Amy.” Max beckoned as he moved closer to her, but Amy just pressed harder against me. I clenched my teeth at the pain, but forced myself to stay silent for Amy’s sake. “Amy, I need to know if you’re hurt.” Max insisted, gently. Amy simply shook her head and then pressed her face into my shoulder.

“Amy, are you sure you’re not hurt?” I said in a low voice by her ear. She shook her head again, but refused to come out of hiding. “Let your dad check just to make sure, okay?” Amy shook her head even more vigorously.

“Amy.” Max’s tone commanding now. “Come here.” The irritation in his voice was thinly veiled.

She slowly lifted her face from my shoulder and walked towards Max, her head hanging low.

“Thank you.” Max said, a little gentler now. He proceeded to check to make sure Amy was uninjured. She stood perfectly still as he did so, only moving when Max asked her to. She looked so sad? Afraid? The moment Max was finished, she ran back to my side, burying her face once more in my shoulder. Her behaviour was always strange, and I had been attributing it to all of the traumatic things Amy had experienced in her short six years of life, but now I wondered if there was more to it. After all, she seemed far more comfortable with me, a stranger, than she did her own father.

Max moved to begin our trek once more, but I protested, “Your hands, Max.” He sighed as he placed his bag back on the ground, unzipping it and pulling out a bottle of isopropyl alcohol and a small role of gauze. He turned away from Amy and I as he poured the disinfectant over his raw hands. My chest squeezed as I imagined how painful it would be. In a moment, he was wrapping gauze around them.

“Let me help you.” I carefully pulled myself into a sitting position, sucking in a sharp breath as my rib protested.

“You okay?” Amy whispered as she crouched beside me.

I turned to see her little face just inches from my own. Her ever-glassy blue eyes were intent.

“I’m okay, Amy. I promise.”

Her face relaxed slightly and she gave me the slightest of smiles.

I turned my attention to Max, who was now in front of me, holding out the gauze. “Be my guest.”

I took the gauze from him and gently wrapped it around the palms of both of his hands. Slices of rope burn also ran across the surface of his fingers, but since I could not very well wrap those without inhibited Max’s ability to use his hands, so I settled on wrapping the most severe wounds.

“Thank you.” Max said quietly as he gave me a slight smile.

When the sun began to get lower in the sky, indicating the fast-approaching evening, we found a rocky little area with a waterfall, an ideal spot to camp in. The cold water made for unpleasant, but practical showers, both for the sake of cleanliness and for the many bruises Max and I had sustained from the rock-filled slurry. Water sources were an unsettling necessity. Liable to cause greater instability in the earth, sources of water, such as streams, waterfalls, and ponds, for example, were generally avoided. Nevertheless, one always had to make calculated exceptions.

We huddled around the fire, having changed out of our muddied clothing. The warmth from the embers was glorious. Max spread out a map in the ring of firelight as I tucked Amy into her sleeping bag. As I went to leave, Amy grabbed my hand,

“Please stay.” She said softly. I glanced at Max who looked up from where he was kneeling over the map. He nodded, his smile mixing with concern. I knew he was happy that Amy and I got along, but I also knew he was concerned about her nightmares. None of us had slept well since they began. I sat with Amy, singing softly to her as her eyes got heavier and heavier. My voice lilted to a wandering minor melody:

“By a wandering brook,

In a flowery nook,

Will I lie to sleep.

In peace will I keep

Far away from fitful dreams.”

As Amy’s eyes began to close in earnest, I slipped my hand from her grasp. Before the next verse of the song was complete, Amy’s eyes were closed, her breathing heavy.

I stood, quietly making my way back over to where Max continued to look at the map.

“We’re almost there.” He said, without looking up. He traced his finger along our path, stopping. “We’re right around here and the city we’re trying to get to is here.” He indicated a nearly spot on the map. We sat there, discussing our plans for the next day. Finding a place to live was going to be a delicate task. Primarily, we needed a place that would be structurally safe – something near a mountain or foothill, ideally, or in a dense forest. We agreed that living in the city did not seem like the best option, for fear of looters and the like. It was likely a popular location, being the largest city for a fairly substantial radius. Because of the size of the city and subsequently, its likely popularity, we wanted to approach it cautiously, hoping to find a place on the outskirts of the city. Unfortunately, the map did not indicate landscape features, and thus, we would need to scope out the outskirts in person.

We had just begun to pack the map away and prepare for bed when a scream shattered the still night. Max hurried to Amy’s side, but when she saw him kneeling beside her, she screamed again, cowering back. I felt sick, confused as well as frustrated at how helpless I felt to deal with this situation. Why was Amy reacting this way to her father? It did not make sense. Should his presence not be comforting? But, as if in answer to my thoughts, at a few whispered words from Max, Amy’s cries subsided and she buried herself deep into her sleeping bag. I rubbed at a headache that was beginning to throb in my forehead. Surely it would help if we could pinpoint what was causing Amy’s nightmares. She would not talk of them, but perhaps as her father, Max, would know where these nightmares were stemming from. I turned to Max, who had just gotten up from where he had been kneeling. I nodded for him to come over.

“Max,” I began in a low voice when he had gotten near, “What do you think is causing Amy’s nightmares?”

Max stiffened, his eyes glistening with – fear? – a moment before glazing over to match his blank expression.

“I don’t know.” He turned to walk away, but I grabbed his arm.

“Wait.” I commanded, “Max, this is important. We need to figure out how to help Amy get over these nightmares, or none of us will be getting any sleep!”

He shrugged my arm off and it felt like a slap. He never behaved coldly to me before. We had never even really argued until today.

“I said I don’t know, Katherine.” His eyes danced now with little embers just waiting to ignite in anger, but he only met my eyes for a moment.

“I don’t believe you!” I winced internally as my voice rose, despite my better judgement. “You know what’s scaring her, or you have a guess at least! Why can’t you tell me? I can help!” My angry breaths came fast and hard. I could feel he was keeping something from me and I could not understand why.

“You have to trust me, Katherine.” Max softened his voice, stepping towards me. “I need to deal with this on my own.”

“Why?” I asked, pleading. It frightened me that he was keeping something from me.

Max stepped another foot closer, closing the distance between us. He grabbed my shoulders, squeezing them uncomfortably tightly. I flinched, trying to pull away from him, but he held me there. A new fear developed in the pit of my stomach. Max could kill me, might kill me, just like he did that man.

“Katherine, you need to understand.” His eyes were blazing with intensity, only frightening me more.

“Please” I whispered, tears stinging my eyes, “You’re scaring me.”

The fire died within his eyes, and he blinked, as if realizing for the first time what he was doing. His grip loosened.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He sighed, “I’m just frustrated and tired.” I nodded, looking at the ground. He gently tugged me towards him. I let him, and he held me in his arms. It was an odd mix of comfort and fear.

“I will sort this out.” He whispered, “I just need you to trust me.”

I nodded. Not so much from my own agreement, as from fear.

Chapter Five

“Katherine!” Amy’s scream broke through the sounds of earth shifting and sliding and of my own heavy breathing. My panicked breaths came in gasps as I tried to suck in the last bit of air that I might ever breath. My eyes, having had instinctively closed, were now open again, seeing only dirt. Tamping down my rising panic, I reminded myself that I was only surrounded in dirt – not covered. It seemed as though the ground had created a crater-like divot in which to partially swallow me.

“Max!” I called again, trying to shout as loudly as possible without moving my body. The more one moved, the more likely it was that the ground would give way to a more complete and inescapable sink hole. I had seen this first hand when, in the early days after the disasters began, one of the women who lived in my neighbourhood had died in a sink hole. She had gotten caught in a small depression like I did, but had panicked, thrashing around and causing a full sinkhole to form and swallow her. That had been imprinted on my memory. Not because I was particularly attached to the woman, I had only known her casually, but because I knew I could do better. I knew I could learn to grow and adapt and survive in this nightmare of a world. I knew I could learn to control my fear. I would die eventually, but it would not be in a panic. I would not be afraid when I died.

“Don’t move!” A desperate, but firm command sounded from Max. Moments later, a rope with a loop on the end was flying through the air and smacking me in the head. “You hit my head!” I protested.

“Shut up” Came a curt reply. Evidently, my attempts to lighten the mood had not worked all that well.

“Slip the loop around your wrist and hold on.” I did so. In a few moments, Max had begun pulling me up. At first, I thought that it would not work. The rope bit through the dirt at the surface, but eventually, after a few agonizing moments, the rope began moving steadily out of the hole instead of deeper into it. When I could see over the rim of the hole, I saw Max standing by a tree about twenty feet away, pulling the rope.

“Stay on your stomach!” He yelled. I compiled as he pulled me closer. Dirt and rocks began to rub painfully against my wrists and upper arms, as my sleeves were shoved back by the ground resisting my motion across it. After he had dragged me about ten feet from the hole, he yelled, “Okay, now try to start crawling towards me!” I tilted my head up to look at him. A distressed Amy stood holding onto the tree trunk with one hand, the other hand gripping the strap of her little backpack.

“Carefully” Maxed urged, his face strained with concern and fear. I met his eye, hoping that my facial expression was enough to convey what I wished I could tell him – I will.

Slowly, painstakingly, I rose from my stomach to my knees. I tried to ignore my racing heart as I distributed my weight to my limbs as evenly as I could. The spongy ground gave way slightly and I froze, terrified that I might cause another sink hole to open up. After a moment, I cautiously lifted my right hand and moved it forward, the wet dirt clinging to it and grinding against my skin as I put my hand back down and pressed my weight into it. I squeezed my eyes shut momentarily, before bringing my left hand up to match it with my right.

“That’s it!” Encouraged Max “Keeping going!”

I continued moving my hands and knees forward methodically, testing the ground’s integrity at each movement. Finally, I was within reach of Max, who had gotten down on his hands and knees and was reaching out towards me. The moment I was close enough, he grabbed my wrist and yanked me towards him. I forgave him the burning jolt to my shoulder joint as I surged towards him. In a moment, we had both scrambled to sitting positions with our backs to the tree trunk, breathing hard. Amy collapsed into my lap as she tried to hug me. She clung to me, crying “I-I thought you were dead.” I gently placed a hand on her head, holding her close. “It’s okay now. I’m safe. Your dad saved me.” I smiled down at Amy. “You’re lucked to have suck a brave dad, Amy.” She sniffled and nodded picking at a button on my jacket as she sat stiffly on my lap.

I looked over at Max, “Thank you” I smiled, leaning my exhausted head back against the tree.

He turned, his head already resting against the rough bark of the tree.

“Anytime” he smiled, a tired expression on his face.

I raised an eyebrow, “You’re expecting this to happen again, are you?” Max’s eyes sparkled with amusement, “One must be prepared for any circumstance.” He quipped. He rested his hand gently on my knee, gazing intently into my face. His blue eyes shone with a tender, earnest concern. “Seriously, though, are you okay?”

I couldn’t hold his gaze. I looked down, plucking little blades of grass from around one of the roots of the tree protruding from the dirt. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Liar” he accused, but his expression was soft.

“Fine,” I countered, “I’ll be fine,” I gazed at Max and gave him a half-smile, “Eventually.”

“That I’ll accept.” Max said as he hoisted himself up from the ground, extending his hand towards me. I eased Amy off my lap as he pulled me to my feet.

His smile faded to a serious expression. Max’s gaze shifted to Amy briefly before resting on my face again once more.

“We should keep moving.”

“Yes, we should.” I agreed, grabbing Amy’s hand.

We continued on carefully, testing each footstep until we had gone about one hundred yards from the sinkhole. Ahead, a large bridge was becoming visible. It spanned the ravine. A horrifying convenience. It lead exactly in the direction in which we needed to go, and yet, the chances of the bridge collapsing were high. Very high.

It was a grandiose bridge, its black suspension construction gleaming in the sunlight.

Max turned back, “What do you think?”

I knew he meant the bridge. The last thing I wanted to do was risk falling again, but we had come this far. “I say we cross it!” I shouted back. “What do you think?”

Max had taken a step back towards Amy and I as the roaring of the water tearing through the ravine continued to be just shy of a deafening volume. “I think it’s the best shot we’ve got at crossing this ravine.” He looked towards the bridge, then back at Amy and I. “I don’t want to go anywhere that is unnecessarily dangerous, but I still think heading north is still the wisest option.”

Nodding, I yelled back, “Well then let’s go. I want to be well across that bridge by the time it gets dark.”

Agreed!” Max looked to Amy, “We’re going to cross that big bridge and then find a spot to camp tonight, sound good?” Amy nodded, but I could see the tears – and terror – welling in her eyes.

We arrived at the south end of the bridge. A faded and cracked highway led up to it, leading further south in the opposite direction of the bridge. Amy scuffed her shoe against the white line of the pavement. She proceeded to try to walk along the white line at the edge of the road. I gently pulled her towards the centre of the road, pointing towards the yellow line. The middle of the road would likely be the safest place to walk right now as the ground beneath would probably be more solid and dense than the surrounding land and edges of the road. Amy happily moved to walk along the yellow line, and we began our ominous trek straight towards the bridge. We were not fifty metres away and my stomach flipped at the thought of us plunging down to the raging water slurry below.

When we were about ten feet away, the sound of the water was so loud that it drowned out any hope of communication. Max turned and reached an arm towards me, beckoning me closer, as if to say, “Stay within arm’s reach” before he picked up Amy. I nodded, attempting to convey that I understood and agreed.

We crossed the first quarter of the bridge incredibly slowly, visually scanning all we could in order to ensure that the bridge would not collapse. Every creak and groan had us pausing, hearts in throats, before we would cautiously continue.

When we had travelled halfway across the bridge, my anxiety had increased. We were at the most vulnerable location on the bridge. I squeezed my eyes shut a moment, willing the panic rising inside of me to go away. When I opened them and looked to my feet again, my breath caught in my throat, this time for a different reason. I dropped to my knees, hardly noticing Max’s hand on my shoulder as I shakily reached towards what had so captured my attention. A painted stone. It was painted bright red, with black letters which read, “Carla and Katherine”. Tears welled in my eyes as I flipped the stone over. The back displayed an arrow, surround by the letters ‘N,E,S,W’, and the arrow pointed in the direction of the ‘N’. Below was written “Be brave.” I placed the stone back on the bridge and stood, still shaking. Liam is alive. I felt an immense amount of comfort at the thought, and yet, a weight quickly settled in my chest. Liam could have placed this stone here months ago. He could be dead by now. Still, I felt more confident with the hope that my friend could be alive and that he had wanted Carla and I to follow him north, for I was sure that was what the arrows and letters meant. Just then, I realized Max’s hand was still on my shoulder, tightening now, more urgent. I looked up at him, smiling reassuringly. I pointed north, nodding and smiling. He frowned, looking a bit confused, but turned to continue.

At about three quarters of the way across, I felt the tightness in my chest dissipate. We are going to make it. It felt like many hours since we had first begun to cross the bridge, but truly, it had likely any been under an hour. Still, when we stepped off of the bridge, Max and I heaved out heavy sigh of relief. I leaned over, putting my hands on my knees, a grateful feeling flooding through me at our safe crossing. I straightened and looked to Amy and Max, who both were smiling – a rarity for Amy when she wasn’t playing “eye-spy” with me. Amy stretched out her arms I enveloped both her and Max in a hug. I felt Amy’s little arms and Max’s strong arms around me. I have a home again.

Chapter Four

Screams broke through my consciousness. It was still dark. Amy. A wave of realization hit as I scrambled to crawl over to where she lay.

“Amy?” I whispered, my voice rough with sleep. “What’s wrong? Are you ok?”

She sniffled. “B-bad dream.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I paused, a little unsure of how to best to solve the situation. “Would a hug help?”

“Yes” Came the little reply. She buried her face in my shoulder, still sniffling. After a few moments, I loosened my hold on her, but her little hands still gripped my arms tightly. I held on a little tighter again, waiting until she was done needing a hug. When she finally leaned back, I asked if she wanted to talk about her nightmare. She shook her head violently, which I could see now that my eyes are adjusted to the darkness.

“Well, how about I sit with you until you fall asleep again, then?” Amy nodded, her wide eyes looking up trustfully, yet tentatively, at me. She lay back down and I smiled at her as she closed her eyes. I leaned my head one of my knees as I wrapped my arms around them.

After a little time had passed, I heard Amy’s breathing become more rhythmic, a dead give-away that she had fallen asleep again. For the first time in months, I thought of my mother. Not that she had never crossed my mind. She had. I simply mean that I have avoided dwelling on thoughts of my family since they died. Now, however, memories of my mother flooded my mind, unbidden, yet not unwelcome. She used to sit with me until I fell asleep when I was a little girl, just like Amy. I would have a nightmare, and she would always come, quietly and gently. I hoped I was emulating just a little of my mother to Amy now. I know that I had told you that I would not acquaint you with my family, but I hope that you will forgive this exception.

Carefully, I crawled back to my bed and slid back into my sleeping bag. I got what felt like two minutes of sleep before the next set of Amy’s screams woke me.

By morning, I felt almost more exhausted than when I had gone to bed. Amy’s screams had woken both Max and I multiple times. I rubbed my eyes, worry plaguing my brain. If this continued, how were any of us supposed to get any sleep?

Breakfast was somewhat sober. Moments of shared eye-contact between Max and I as we packed up our campsite, conveyed the significant worry that we both were feeling about Amy’s nightmares.

The mood persisted throughout the morning hike, which was silent with exhaustion. As we continued north, the only sounds that broke the silence were those of our own footsteps snapping branches or crushing grass and leaves, as well as the ever-increasing frequency of the roarings indicating yet another sink hole or landslide. Truly we had been quite fortunate not to have been caught up in one of them as of yet.

I longed to ask Max’s thoughts as to why it sounded like the sinkholes were becoming more frequent, but since Amy was so near I held my question back. No point in scaring her more than she was already scared.

After we had stopped for lunch and had hiked for another couple of hours, we began to hear a steady, roaring sound. Not like those we had been hearing, but that of powerful, rushing water. The sound began as a faint, almost static-like sound, but continued to get louder and louder until we could hardly hear ourselves think.

“Max!” I yelled. “I don’t think we should get any closer to whatever this is. It isn’t safe!”

Max turned to me, gripping Amy’s hand tightly, “We don’t have a choice! According to my map, if we start heading either east or west, we won’t make it to another town or city with food and supplies before ours runs out!”

I gave him a worried look. He took a step towards me, placing his free hand on my arm, “Don’t worry, we’ll move slow – careful. We’ll scope out the situation and figure out what to do from there.”

I responded with a half smile and looked at the ground.

“Hey” Max ducked his head to catch my attention, and our eyes locked. “I’m not going to let anything happened to you or Amy. You can count on me. I promise.”

His attentive, confident gaze and strong grip on my arm reassured me. “Okay. Let’s do this.” This time it was my turn to meet his eyes with a confident stare. He grinned and turned to lead us closer to the source of the roaring.

A few minutes later, when the roaring had become even louder – something I did not think was possible – we saw the cause of the sound. A huge ravine ran perpendicularly to our path, the edges of it abrupt and jagged, as if someone had grabbed a massive, serrated knife and had torn through a piece of fabric. Looking east, we saw an immense amount of muddy, brown water cascading through the wide gap in the earth, with chunks of the dirt walls dropping into the torrent here and there.

My heart raced and my head pounded as if in sync with the raging cascade of water. Any second, a sinkhole could open up and devour us. In fact, that was likely the cause of the increasing number of sinkholes we had been hearing all day. In terms of stable ground, we could not be in a worse place right now.

“According to the map” Max called, “There should be a bridge a little ways towards the east!” I followed as Max led the way towards the bridge. Slowing a moment, Max reached down to pick up Amy who was trying to cover her ears from the sound of the water.

He turned back as he walked slowly forward, “Careful how you walk. Test your footing before trusting the ground with your full weight.” I nodded, very aware of the chance we were taking by walking so close to the ravine.

Up ahead I could see a particularly muddy-looking section of ground. “Hey, go around – that way!” I pointed to the far side of the muddy patch, away from the ravine. Max carefully made a wide birth around the patch. Following in his footsteps, I put one foot in front of the other, trying to breath evenly. Suddenly, I felt the ground give slightly, my face tingled as panic rose in my chest. “Max!” The ground collapsed.

Chapter 3

I still look back on the day I left with confusion. I do not know why I had so rashly agreed to move from the only home I had ever known with a father and child that I barely knew. You probably are thinking that I acted foolishly. If that is the case, then you are certainly correct. I was foolish, but I was also tired, lonely, and desperate. I had survived the initial disasters, only to be met with the nearly ever-present feeling that I was doomed to a life of solitude. Being presented with the opportunity of connection and relationship again held too much appeal for my devastated twenty-year-old mind. I like to think that there are very few people who would have made a different decision.

Thoughts of trepidation and excitement tumbled through my head as we walked north away from the town. Our northerly direction was Max’s idea. He had made the argument that colder climate meant that the ground would probably be firmer for longer periods of the year and thus we might be safer from sink holes. Besides, he had apparently heard of a city about five days journey north, that still had large amounts of food and supplies available. I could not argue with his logic and I had no opposing suggestion, so we had headed north.

It was around noon by the time we had truly begun our journey, what with planning, packing, and gathering supplies. My stomach flipped at the thought of leaving the safe areas I had come to know. In the first few months of disaster, I had painstaking made hand-drawn maps of “safe” areas in and around town. I say safe, but truly, I could never known for certain. There were areas that had proven to be more safe than others though – rocky areas rather than fields – that sort of thing. At least this apocalypse had some predictability.

I ducked under a low-hanging branch as I followed Max, who held Amy by the hand. We had found a forest to travel through as quickly as we could. The root systems of the trees would keep the ground more stable than a field. The couple of sinkholes we had seen in the field we were forced to cross seemed to corroborate our theory.

Even though I had not known Max very long, I admired the logical and decisive way he approached things. Besides, I already found myself caring a lot about Amy, and he seemed to be so intent upon keeping her safe, it warmed my heart. Fathers are surely more trustworthy than just random men, I reasoned. It eased the recently familiar anxiety I often felt when I remembered that not only had I known Max for less than forty-eight hours, but I had watched him kill a man during that time. I was attempting to reassure my worried brain for the millionth time, when a voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Katherine?” I looked up to see Max looking back at me, with Amy following suit. She had been so quiet all morning, which had me wondering if that was normal for her. I had no way to know, really. Perhaps she was just exhausted and frightened from the events of yesterday – I knew I was.

“Yes?” I answered Max, speeding up my pace to match his.

“Are you doing alright so far? We aren’t going too fast, I hope?”

I shook my head. “I’m okay.” I looked down at Amy, “How are you doing, Amy? Are you feeling tired?” Amy simply continued to look straight ahead as we walked. The only indication she had heard me was the slight downturn of her mouth. I paused, unsure of how to deal with Amy’s non-communicative nature. I wanted her to like me – warm up to me – but I just was not quite sure as to how to make that happen. I resorted to a tried and true strategy, “Would you like a piggyback, Amy?” I glanced at Max, “As long as your dad is okay with it?”

Max smiled, “Of course! Amy, what do you think?” He paused to crouch down and look at her. “Would you like Katherine to give you a piggy back ride?”

Amy looked frightened, but cautiously turned and looked at me. She frowned, “Yes, but you’ve already got a piggy back.” She pointed at my backpack which held much of our supplies for the trip. I laughed at her misunderstanding of my backpack, as Max chimed in.

“I can carry that.” He smiled as he took my pack from me. I crouched down so that Amy could climb onto my back.

“Hop on, Amy!” I called. She did so. We walked that way for a while – Max carrying my bag and me carrying Amy. As we passed by interesting plants or pretty flowers, I would point them out, hoping to find something that interested Amy. As we passed by a lilac bush, Amy pointed to it, finally excited. I smiled as a veered towards the bush, close enough that Amy could pluck a cluster of flowers off of it. She brought them to her nose and I could hear her making an overly-exaggerated sniffing sound, as if that would help her enjoy the scent of the violet-coloured flowers better. A moment later, the flowers were in my face. I started, surprised.

“Smell!” A little voice behind my head demanded. I laughed, complying. They smelled lovely. “They smell so nice, Amy! You picked a good branch.”

Several hours later, Max and I were walking side by side, tangentially discussing our opinions of the pros and cons of different flooring options. Clearly, we had talked about many different subjects throughout the afternoon. We had reminisced about our families, what we had done in the long months since the first sink hole had appeared, and our likes and dislikes. When we were satisfied with the outcome of our flooring discussion, we drifted into comfortable silence. Amy was drooped on Max’s shoulder, having become exhausted after a couple of hours of walking on her own. I could not blame her – my legs ached with the unfamiliarity of walking for so many hours at a time.

I noticed – not for the first time – a thin, leather bracelet on Max’s left arm, the one wrapped around Amy as he carried her. There were little square white beads encircling the leather strands, which gave me pause. I could see what looked like letters on the beads, but could not quite make them out.

“What does your bracelet say?” I broke the silence, looking to Max as I waited for an answer.

He smiled, turning to me, “It says ‘Dad’. My daughter made it for me.”

I smiled back, “Amy is such a sweet girl. You are very lucky to have her as a daughter.”

Max’s expression seemed to freeze for a moment, but his eyes glazed over, looking quite distant. In a moment, however, his gaze focused back on me again, a smile spreading over his face. “Yes, I am very thankful.” He have her back a gentle pat as he turned his attention ahead once more.

We spent an uneventful night camping in the forest. The next day was spent much the same as the one before, with conversation, walks in silence, and Amy napping.

I was already beginning to like this routine of walking and talking, playing word games or eye spy with Amy, and just being somewhere different. I felt happy to be around other people, and Max provided a layer of security that I did not know I had missed until I felt it.

On the second night, Amy and I played a game of eye-spy – her current favourite – as Max started a fire. Every day, as we walked, Max seemed careful to hold her hand or carry her, but when left to her own devices, Amy seemed to gravitate towards me. The moment we would stop for a break or to sleep and Max let her go, she was glued to my side. I supposed Max was so intent on keeping her close as we walked, so as to keep her safe. Have a child out of arm’s reach in such a threatening environment was certainly not prudent, and besides, Max already had the weight of having lost his wife. He had a right to be afraid.

Max’s face glowed orange in the light of the little fire he had just started. He smiled up at us from across the fire as he brushed his hands together, “I’ll cook some dinner for us tonight.”

I shook my head in protest, “No, you cooked dinner last night. Let me take care of it tonight.”

Max continued to smile, “No, I like cooking, and you look tired.”

I could not argue with that – I was exhausted. I relented with a quiet thank you. Max responded with a gentle smile back as he set about preparing some food.

After we had eaten and Amy was tucked safely away in her sleeping bag, Max began boiling a pot of water while he cleaned up the remains of dinner. I sat on the grass close to the fire. I was infinitely thankful that we had been able to find warm and compact sleeping bags to bring along with us. We had truly been quite lucky to find any useful supplies, as Max had been right, the food and supplies had begun to become sparse.

“Would you like some tea when I finish making it?” Max asked as he carefully placed the cooking utensils and our dishes back into his bag. At my hesitation, he added “It might help you sleep.” Concern clouding his expression, as he continued, “I noticed you did not sleep well last night.” I turned away. He was right, I had slept quite poorly the night before and it had probably been obvious. I toss and turn a lot when I cannot fall asleep. Yet, I felt a touch of bitterness at his comment. Of course I had not slept well – you killed a man in front of me and your daughter yesterday. I thought. It’s a wonder any of us slept at all. Tamping down these thoughts, I forced a small smile, “I will have some tea, thank you.”

Minutes later, Max was a gently placing a mug of steaming water in my hands, little leaves floated within.

“I picked those myself – Labrador Tea leaves – they should help you to sleep.”

I smiled my thanks as I accepted the mug. “Do you know a lot about teas and plants and things like that?”

“Yes, my wife and I used to collect and grow many plants and herbs. We had a whole pantry with our herbs, teas, and plants organized in little wooden boxes which I carved. I still remember the first box I made.” Max gave me a rueful, and slightly amused smile, “it was terrible” he laughed “I got so many splinters for the payout of a terrible-looking box. But, I kept practicing, and eventually, I was able to make some very nice-looking boxes. Ava, my wife,” he clarified, “would decorate and label each box, she was so talented at painting intricate designs. Each box was like its own little world.” He smiled, a distant look in his eyes, as if he were reliving the cherished memory.

I watched him, unsure if I should break the silence or let him sit in quiet for a moment. Before I could decide, he turned to me, “Do you have any memories like that, Katherine? Any moments of doing wonderful things or spending time with people you loved?”

I considered his question for a moment, searching my mind for particularly meaningful moments. “Hmm I suppose one of my favourite memories was painting rocks with my friends.” This time it was my turn to smile, “Carla, Liam, and I started to paint or write encouraging little sayings on rocks and left them around town. It sort of began as a silly thing that we did when we were seventeen or eighteen, but we just kind of kept doing it. People all over town would find them and take them home. It was something that bonded us together and encouraged other people.” I looked up from my tea that I had been staring at as I talked. The tea had lapped at the sides of the cup as I tipped and fiddled with the mug in an attempt to fidget my way through the conversation.

When my eyes fell on Max, he was looking intently at me, his faint smile flickering in the firelight. “That does sound like a wonderful memory.” His smile faded, “What happened to your friends?” My eyes stung as I thought back to eleven months ago, when I – when everyone – lost so much.

“I don’t know. I assume they died, since most of our town was killed when the sink holes started. I have been searching for them ever since, but never found any indication of what happened to them.”

Max’s eyes glistened as he looked at me sympathetically. “I am so sorry.”

I shook my head. “Most people died. Those of us who survived all lost people we loved. Grief is our life now.”

Max looked a little surprised, “You don’t have hope that life will get better?”

I looked down at the dirt, thinking. It was not that I didn’t know the answer, but simply that I did not want to acknowledge it.

“I want to hope. I just don’t see any reason to.” I tried to hold back tears as the feelings of despair and hopelessness that I had been battling for months came rushing back in a nearly overwhelming torrent. I heard movement in front of me, but I could not bring myself to look up. I could sense Max had stood up and was a moving closer to me, could see the shadow created by the firelight of his body on the dirt by my feet. He knelt in front of me, taking my hand in both of his. I jerked my head up in surprise – this was too familiar, too fast.

Despite the distinct gut feeling that screamed, telling me that it was too soon for this sort of familiarity, this sort of affection, there was a part of me that liked it. I felt wanted, cared-for, and protected. I wanted a new family, and a reckless part of me was beginning to choose Max and Amy despite having only known them for a couple of days.

Max’s eyes rested on our hands before they rose to meet my eyes. My cheeks tingled, feeling warm – I wasn’t used to the intensity of someone’s full attention.

“There is always hope, Katherine,” Amused, a slight smile crept onto my lips, “Are you quoting Aragorn from Lord of the Rings at me?”

Max blinked, then a wide smile broke across his face. “If it helps?”

“It helps.” I smiled.

“Then, I am.” He smiled back. Standing, he brushed the dirt from his jeans and quietly began preparing our camp so that we could join Amy in getting a decent night’s sleep.

A distant roar made its way through the darkness to us. Amy woke with a start, fearful eyes locking first onto Max, who was standing close, and then me. Max knelt beside her bed reassuring her that it was just a distant landslide or sinkhole.

It was a sound that survivors had to become quite accustomed to, since it happened often. That did not make it any less frightening. The roar of the earth opening up or giving way is something I am convinced no human gets used to. I did not blame Amy for being afraid.

Chapter Two

The girl frowned, shaking her head, eyes teary. “No. I can’t leave.” I looked around frantically, my head pounding. I tried to calm myself, knowing that I needed to convince the girl to come with me. She would not be safe alone here.

“Why do you need to stay?” I winced at another crash. This time, I heard a yell along with it. The girl yanked her hand out of mine and took off running towards the sound. I followed, desperate not lose sight of the girl. Suddenly, I had to stop short as the girl had ceased running and was standing perfectly still, staring at two men fighting. They were rolling around on the floor, cans of soup falling to the ground in the after effects of them crashing into the shelf.

One of the men, slim with light blond hair, pinned the other to the ground. The man currently having his face pressed to the floor was a man of relatively average size. His short brown hair was damp with sweat as he strained against the weight of the other man who was keeping him pinned to the ground. The brown-haired man suddenly managed to twist his body around, while simultaneously throwing the blond man off of him. The blond man yelled in anger and pain as his back collided with the metallic shelf behind him. He scrambled towards the brown-haired man, smashing his fist into his face. The girl cried out and the man who had just been hit, looked towards her. “No! Amy!” He yelled desperately just as the blond-haired man hit him in the face again. Blood began pouring from the brown-haired man’s nose. Suddenly, the blond-haired man pulled a knife from his pocket and was bringing it down on the other man’s chest! I screamed and the girl, I assumed her name was Amy, as the man had called out, suddenly went limp beside me. Shakily, I hurried to pick her up. I began backing away. This was something that I wanted nothing to do with.

I watched in horror as the blond man stood and turned towards me, the knife that had been in his hand, now protruding from the brown-haired man’s chest. I nervously shifted the limp girl in my arms. Don’t drop her. I felt light-headed.

“Let me take her.” An almost desperate look was in his eyes. “I’m her father.”

I wanted to throw up. “You just killed him.” I said, unable to take my eyes off of the bleeding corpse that had been a living, breathing man just moments before. I barely noticed as he lifted the girl from my arms. “I had to. He was stalking her. Trying to kidnap her. I had to stop him.”

Nothing felt real. I felt like I was in a dream. A really awful dream.

“We need to leave.” The man urged, and I knew he was right. “Do you have a home. Somewhere you’ve been living?”

I tried to focus. “Yeah” I started slowly, “Yes. I’ll show you the way.”

We arrived at my cave some time later. I honestly do not remember much of the walk. Everything felt so… fuzzy.

“Where can I put her?” He asked, looking around.

“On my bed. Over here.” I motioned for him to follow.

He gently laid her on the bed. Crouching, he placed a hand on her forehead, a worried expression creasing his face.

I watched, touched by the care he displayed for his daughter. Eventually he stood, extending his hand to me. “I’m Max. I’m sorry we had to meet under such unfortunate circumstances.”

I manage a nervous smile, still incredibly aware that I had just watched this man stab someone to death. “I’m Katherine.”

“Beautiful name.”

“Thank you.”

A moment of silence hung between us. I could not meet his eyes for more than a moment, but I could feel him still staring at me. It was unnerving.

I broke the silence, “I am going to make something for all of us to eat. I think Amy will be hungry when she wakes up.”

“Good idea.” Max agreed. “I will go keep an eye on Amy.” He turned, taking a few steps before looking back, “Katherine?”

I looked him in the eyes. “Don’t tell Amy that I killed that man. She is too young to handle it. I will tell her when the time is right.” I nodded, curtly. My gut twisted and I knew it was not because of what Max had asked, but the way in which he had asked it. Calmly. Too calmly.

But perhaps he has had experience with this sort of thing before. I tried to rationalize, as I heated some beans over the little fire pit at the mouth of my cave. Maybe he was in the army or was a first responder or something. I kept trying to justify his calmness as I poured beans into three little mugs.

Max’s voice echoed softly from across the cave. I turned to look in Amy and Max’s direction and saw that Max was talking to Amy. She must be awake! I thought.

Relieved, I cleaned up my cooking area, trying to give the two a little bit of privacy. After a few moments, I placed spoons in each of the mugs and brought the first two to Max and Amy.

Amy’s face was pale and tear stained. “Hi Amy.” I handed her one of the mugs. “How are you doing?” She sniffled. “Good.”

“I’m glad.” I smiled. “Do you want to eat some of these beans? They are pretty tasty. I picked the ones with molasses, because those are my favourites.”

Amy looked at me “Molasses is sticky and black.”

I nodded, smiling, “Yes, and it’s also sweet. Do you like sweet things?”

Amy nodded, quietly.

“Well, give the beans a try. You’ll probably like them, then.”

Amy tentatively scooped up four beans from her mug and stuck the spoon in her mouth. “They’re a little bit yucky.” She said, “But mostly yummy.”

I laughed, “Well that’s good, then. I am going to go get mine.”

I came back with my mug of beans. Max was staring at me. “You and Amy seem to get along well.”

I shrugged, smiling a little. “Yeah, we seem to.”

We finish our meal (I use the word “meal” lightly) and I listened to Max as he told me how he had spend the last eleven months. When my turn came, my stories were not nearly so interesting as his, what with his trying to keep his family alive, loosing his wife, and trying to keep Amy’s stalker, the man he had killed today, at bay. There was a sincerity in the way he told his story, one that, despite everything that I had seen take place that day, made me believe him. His desperation in the recounting of his family’s difficulty in surviving the first several months, his grief at the memories of his wife’s death, and his coldness in the discussion of the stalker made me see a truth in his stories.

You may think that I was crazy for allowing a murderer into my home, but after hearing his story, I was convinced that all he wanted was to keep Amy and himself safe. And, I had reasoned, if I had a child, would I not do anything in order to keep them safe? I was, and still am, convinced that I would.

“It’s really nice to be with another person again.” Max said, interrupting the silence that had followed our tales. It was evening now, and we were sitting by the fire at the mouth of my cave, Amy asleep on my bed.

He read my mind. “Yeah” I answered simply, looking out across the field, partially illuminated by the last bits of light that were disappearing along with the sun. “I haven’t seen anyone for so long.” A light fog traced my breath thanks to the cold, autumn air.

Max turned to me. “You should come with us.” I felt a stab of fear. Leave my home? “It could be a new start – for all of us.” He hurried to continue as my face betrayed my apprehension. “Both of us have lost family members in this town. Why stay and be haunted by bad memories? We can travel and find a better home, one near a bigger town, or even a city! Just think! We would have access to far more supplies than we do here.”

I looked down at my hands, felt my clammy skin as I gripped them together. “I don’t know. I mean, we know this town – the dangerous spots, the good places to get supplies -“

“Katherine.” Max shifted slightly closer, lowering his voice, “Have you noticed how low supplies are getting in this town? You can’t live here forever.”

I pulled back, suddenly angry. How dare he say all of this?! He doesn’t know anything about me or my plans! “I don’t even know you! How dare you act like you know what the best plan is? How dare you assume to know what I plan to do?” I pause, trying to catch my breath, but I could not. My heart was beating so fast, I knew I was panicking, exhausted from the day and taking it out on him.

Max stood, looking down at me. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come across like that. I just think that it would be better if you stayed with us.” His blue eyes shone earnestly. “Please don’t be angry with me.” He ducked his head, tilting it, trying to get a look at my face, which was surrounded by a shield of my hair and blocking it from his view as I looked at the ground.

I lifted my head, and was momentarily transfixed by his intense stare. I turned away, putting my hands on my hips and let out a deep sigh. “No, I am sorry.” I said, running a hand through my hair. “I lashed out. This day has just been – a lot.” I turned back to him with an apologetic expression.

“I understand.” He gave me a slight smile, “And it’s okay.” This time, he sighed. “But please, consider coming with us. It is the safest way.”

I nodded, looking out towards a place that I have always called home. It was so dark that I could not see even the outskirts of the town. Had it been eleven months ago, warm lights would have illuminated the area, making it easy to spot different parts of the town, even from the foothills. My eyes burned with threatening tears as I came to the realization that my home was not longer my home. I was trying uselessly to hold onto a place in hopes that I could somehow keep some semblance of the life that I used to have. It was time to move on. Create a new life. I turned back to Max. “I’ll go.”

Chapter One

Before I begin this story, I must preface it with a short explanation. I love to write, but finding something to write about that has my heart has been a continual challenge with this blog. I realized that what I truly love is to write book-length stories, so I have decided to try to embrace that and write a longer story, chapter by chapter, on this blog. I hope you enjoy it as much as I am:

The earth was melting. That is not entirely accurate, but in lieu of a scientific explanation, it is the start of a description.

I was one of the lucky few to survive, but not one of the luckiest. The luckiest people were those rich enough to buy their way off earth. Yes, they escaped by spaceship. Cliche? Sure, but it did work.

I should explain that when I said the earth was melting, that what I really meant was that the surface of the earth was unstable – like quicksand – and very, very prone to sink holes.

As I alluded to already, I am not going to attempt to provide you with a proper, scientific, explanation for why this had occurred. I’m not a scientist. It is enough to know that the instability of the earth’s crust and the resulting sink holes had caused many deaths from the expected sorts of causes – falling or getting sucked into the ground, landfills, mudslides and so on.

My first encounter with the ill-effects of a soggy earth’s crust was quite literally within my own back yard. I had been cutting the lawn on a warm, sunny day when one of the tires of our riding mower got a little bit stuck in the lawn. Just about as quickly as I could jump off of the thing, a sink hole had opened up and swallowed the mower whole. I immediately ran inside to the chatter of excited family members trying to show me the news articles that were quickly accumulating in response to the appearance of a multitude of sink holes.

I will not take the time to acquaint you with my family. You would only get attached, and they are all dead now. Do not mistake me as a very cold person – I cherish my memories of them, but I have both accepted and grieved their deaths and there is no need for you to do the same when you did not even known them.

I should take the time to tell you my name. I am Katherine, and my story really begins about eleven months after the day our lawn mower got eaten by our lawn. By then, our world had collapsed. Not a government system was left standing, billions of people had died, and the “important” and “rich” people had launched off in space ships with the promise that they would fix the situation or help save us, if only given a little time. Needless to say, those promises proved to be completely empty.

My situation was at that point, quite grim. Not because I was in desperate need of supplies, in fact, for those eleven months, I had been able to find plenty of supplies. No, my situation was grim, because for about eight of those eleven months, I had barely seen a single person. The first month had just been a blur of people in panic, the second month had been eerily quiet. To say that the two encounters I had with people by the third month were unpleasant, would be an understatement. In the first week of the month, I was robbed while on a supply run, and in the fourth week of the month, some guy actually tried to push me into a sinkhole! I won’t go into detail, but there was a lot of screaming and yelling involved. After that, I avoided any person I saw, as I did not trust them. I wished that I could, as I very much missed human company, but people were too desperate, and I was too wary.

I had stayed nearby the area where my family and I had lived – as close as I could to supplies without staying on obviously unstable ground. Those who survived, quickly discovered that your chances of being sucked into a sink hole was far less likely if you hang around rocky areas instead of on soggy sod. Accordingly, I was living in a little cave at the bottom of an insignificant foot hill. One still had to be aware of mud slides and landslides and such, but it was an improvement from town.

Exactly eleven months after the sinkhole incidents had begun, was the day that changed my monotonous routine, which had consisted of daily body weight exercises, preparing meals, and a monthly trip to my old hometown for supplies. I had done my best to keep quite healthy and fit and thankfully had access to our local library to keep my mind occupied. In addition to my daily routine of exercise, I made it a point to read about a book a week, depending on its size, and had also whittled seven little statues, mostly of animals, and one of a tree – they were not good. This was really all I had done in these eleven months, and yet, I felt that I had achieved some real self-improvement.

At eleven months, on a sunny and remarkably warm morning in October, I set out on my monthly trip to town to retrieve supplies and exchange books. Yes, I brought books back to the library, mainly to keep them safe, but I also supposed that perhaps someone else would like to read them. To be clear, there was no one at the library to check my books in and out, I just took books from the library and then brought them back when I was finished with them.

I grabbed my knife, and packed my backpack with the regular water, granola bar, and first aid supplies. After eating breakfast, I took my usually path to town. There did not seem to be much rhyme or reason as to where sink holes appeared, but you could tell if one was more likely to appear if the ground fell particularly unstable or like quick sand. Besides, most people knew that one did not walk near the edge of a sink hole, unless you wanted to make it bigger by crumbling the ground beside it and falling in.

I exchanged my books without difficulty and headed over to the grocery store. I surveyed the now dark and messy building, hoping for more canned beans, tuna, and vegetables. A pang of anxiety shot through my chest. I had been lucky so far, but supplies would not last forever. Trying to keep from thinking morbid thoughts about running out of food, I rummaged through the cans of baked and green beans in aisle two. As I placed the last of the cans that I wanted into my backpack, I heard a crashing sound from across the store. I stiffened, listening very carefully. I had barely seen anyone for eight months and with food sources and medicine ever diminishing, I feared a violent interaction was overdue.

Heart pounding, I turned to leave, but before I had made it ten steps, I heard a pitiful, crying sound. I paused, frightened. This could easy be a trap, and although it was against my better judgement, I decided to investigate. I could not keep my humanity by just abandoning another person who might need help.

Walking carefully towards the sound, I skirted around the end of a shelf and into the next aisle. The sound became louder, but abruptly stopped the moment I took a step down the aisle towards it. I paused. Looking around, I decided to search the towels which were messily lying on the bottom of the left-hand shelf. The navy blue towel which had been strewn across some cream-coloured towels, shifted ever so slightly. Did it just fall a little, or was something causing it to fall? I carefully lifted the blue towel. Something – someone – jerked back. Someone small was hiding underneath the towels. I yanked them off, revealing a little girl who seemed to be about five years old, although I am pretty terrible at guessing ages, whether child or adult. It does not help that a there are far less people now to guess the ages of in my day to day life.

The little girl whimpered a little, pulling back. I looked around, panicked. Where was this kid’s parents? Was she alone? My chest ached. I could not just leave her hear without making sure she was safe, but I also could not stay here long, and neither could she – it was too dangerous.

“Hi” I whispered, feeling at somewhat of a loss. It had been a while since I had talked with a kid, or just anyone in general, for that matter.

“Are you alone? Or is there maybe someone nearby, waiting for you?” The girl looked scared at that, shaking her head. I frowned, “You don’t have anyone here with you?” She shifted, clearly uncomfortable with her position, lying in the shelf, and with my question.

“Here,” I beckoned to her, “Sit on the floor with me.” I offered, helping her out of the shelf.

Just then, I heard another banging sound. I stiffened, we still were not alone. The little girl looked frightened. I considered that there might be a parent or relative of hers nearby, but she had indicated there was no one. I paled. It was also quite possible that she was hiding from someone. In that moment, I made a decision. Grabbing her hand, I whispered “We need to leave!”