Objects in the Mirror

Another post-apocalyptic fic!

Will Shar's trusty car and rifle get her family to the safety of Aunt Jess's farm? What will they find when they get there?

Be wary of the drones. 

Be wary of Greed. 

Be wary of daylight. 

OBJECTS IN THE MIRROR ARE NOT WHAT THEY APPEAR

A post-apocalyptic ficlet by MLC

The relentless rumble had finally died down for the evening as the sun disappeared into the West. It was the end of my watch and the start of our nightly journey. I lifted my AK-47 above my head so that I could stretch the sleepy muscles in my arms. Even at this hour, the Georgia humidity made me feel as though I was swimming in my own sweat.

Drawing a deep breath, I slung it over my shoulder and picked up my box of ammo. As I crept back into the alley, I could see the silhouette of our tiny car nestled between two brick monoliths of another era. Rick was right. This place was safe because it died in the 80s.

I walked up to the back and tapped the window with my knuckles. Our daughter, Sammy, was already awake. I could see her shadow moving in the backseat as Rick slept. He shifted when I tapped it again. The sluggish air around him did not last long, for he was sitting up and opening the door within seconds.

One could not afford to be slow in this world.

“Mommy, are we at Auntie Jess Jess’s house yet?” Sammy asked.

“Shh,” I cooed, leaning over. “Another day or so.”

Ever since They came, everyone began fleeing the cities, but even the suburbs were no longer safe. Rick slipped out of the backseat and took his place at the wheel. I sat in the passenger seat and placed the ammo box between my feet. I rolled the window down.

“I’m sick of being quiet,” Sammy groaned. “I want to play outside.”

“Everything will be fine when we go see Aunt Jess,” Rick said. The engine purred, and I tensed. The sound roared throughout the alley like an avalanche. Our car inched forward, its tires rolling over the cement. I rested the barrel of the AK-47 against the door and watched the vacant street creep closer and closer.

They preferred to kill us in daylight, but I was not about to take a chance.

I pictured Aunt Jessica’s farm, the sprawling hills around it--her horses, cows, and her giant, three story house. It was nestled away in the woods, far from civilization. They weren’t interested in the woods.

I pictured the twisted remains of our cell towers and power plants and shuddered. It was clear They wanted to destroy us and smash what little spirit we had left.

As Rick turned onto a back road. I watched a ragtag of pickup trucks and SUVs slink past us, their headlights turned off just as ours were. Rick stopped to let them pass. Their crawl must have been something like ten miles an hour.

“Where are they going?” I wondered, for they were heading towards Atlanta.

“To fight,” my husband whispered. “They’ve got stores of weapons in the back. Look.”  A chill swept over me. Sure enough, their truck beds were packed with Army surplus supplies and a host ammo boxes.  I gripped my weapon as temptation dared me to follow.  I knew better. Those poor souls had no chance against fighter jets and aerial drones.

A white pickup truck held the rear with the American and Gadsden flags streaming from its tailgate. The driver shined a flashlight at us. Two blinks. It was an unspoken hello and good luck out there.

Temptation was fleeting. I don’t think I could ever bring myself to go back to our blackened cities with their crumbling stores, apartment complexes, and death. Change the filter of the images on my dead phone to black and white, and our hometown looked like something straight out of World War Two.

My stomach growled. Great. Just great. Sammy probably heard it and was about to cry. We were almost out of food and water. Sure enough, the poor child began to weep. I shifted the rifle and rolled the window back up. I didn’t chide her. What was I going to do? Get mad at her for being hungry?

***

The car shuddered and rolled to a stop. This was it. We had used up every last drop of gas. There hadn’t been a gas station since we left that abandoned highway town, and now daylight was beginning to breach the night sky. I drew a weary breath. Where would we sleep? We certainly couldn’t do it in the car. If They didn’t end us first, the summer heat surely would. I gazed at the trees in the distance.

“Pull out your map,” I whispered, but I could hear him already shuffling through it.
“Holy shit, Shar! Look!” He shoved it into my lap and thrust his index finger on it. “We are here.” My heart raced. I spotted the red marker I drew around Aunt Jess’s property, not depicted on the map, of course.

“We could walk there and be there by night fall.” A low rumble ripped through the air.

They were awake.

We scurried about the car, collecting just the bare necessities and stuffing poor Sammy into her little red wagon. I was the sharp shooter, so I got the gun, and Rick got to pull her.

“Hurry!” I hissed. “They might have the drones out!” I gazed up. They’d be heading for Atlanta, but who wanted to risk some hotshot asshole spotting us and picking us off for fun from his cushy little control tower?

We hurried off the road as Sammy gripped the sides of the little metal wagon.  The trees would give us cover.

“Uuuooouuuoouuoouuu,” her voice went, and she laughed. Good. Better to laugh than to cry.

***

Every muscle in my body screamed in agony. My jeans had long since chafed my thighs, making every movement painful. Sammy whimpered and whined, shooting me wistful looks as I struggled to keep up. I felt like she grew smaller and smaller with each passing second, but it did not matter. Aunt Jess’s house was dead ahead. I could see it through the trees. One of her horses neighed in the distance. I blinked sweat away from my eyes.

I staggered on, and it felt like forever until we were standing on her porch. Rick rang the bell. Moments later, the door opened with a squeak. Aunt Jess’s sky blue eyes pierced the growing darkness.

“Sharon?” she asked. “What are you doing here?” The door was cracked an inch. I couldn’t make out her expression.

“Yes, it’s me, Auntie Jess,” I moved closer and pressed my palm against the door frame for support. “I’m sorry about the unexpected visit. Our home was destroyed in the initial attack.” I leaned against the house, my strength waning with every word I spoke.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have any room.” Rick grabbed my collar and pulled me back just in time—Aunt Jess slammed the door.

“What?” I blanched. “No,” I whispered. “She…she was supposed to offer us a room on the third floor…We’re…we’re family. This can’t be right.” I rang the buzzer.

“Aunt Jess!” I cried. “Aunt Jess! It’s me Shar! I’ve got little Sammy with us!” When the door held still, I banged my fist on it. “Aunt Jess!” I screamed.

A window flew open on the left. I jumped.

“No means no. Stop screaming! You’ll attract Them!”

“Aunt Jess,” I croaked, stepping over to that side of the porch. “People are dying. Mom is…they got her, Dad, and Uncle Ken.”

“I don’t have any room.”

“Just one room on the third floor,” I begged. “People are-”

“No. And if I catch you sleeping in my stables, I will send my dogs after you. I do not give handouts.” I watched her slam the window shut and cringed at the sickening sound the lock made when she secured it.

Blackness swept over me. This couldn’t be right. We were family. She was my mother’s sister. Stars studded my vision, draping her front door in a snowy haze.

“Shar,” Rick shook my shoulders. “C’mon, not now. I need you!” he paused. His voice sounded like it was far away. “That abandoned church!” he cried suddenly. “Remember the one you told me about, the one you and your sisters used to play Anne of Green Gables in?”

Yes, yes. The old church. It would provide shelter. He shook me again and grabbed our last water bottle. He poured a few drops into my mouth. Yes, yes, there was that stream by it.

“I’ll take us there,” I rasped. A low growl pressed through Aunt Jess’s door. The window flew open again.

“Get off my property!”

~FIN