In the End (Starbounders) by Demitria Lunetta
Chapter One
I long for the comfort of night.
The sun feels warm on my face. Before, sunshine was a good thing. But this is the After, and outside of New Hope, the light means only one thing if you’re not armed: death.
It’s early spring, but in the place that used to be Texas, it gets oppressively hot early in the year. I stop walking and open my canteen. The water drips from it and sizzles on the asphalt when I take a drink.
My synth-suit shields my otherwise bare feet from the burning ground, though my calluses also offer protection. I always wear my synth-suit in case I come across someone unfriendly—and out here, everyone’s unfriendly. In the After, I learned to live without noisy shoes, and continued to run without them while I was in New Hope. I’m grateful I kept up with my running, or I wouldn’t have made it out here these last three months. Even a simple supply mission like this could turn deadly.
I close my canteen and scan the area. On the horizon, I see a strip of houses that lies by a dried-up lake. I haven’t hit this neighborhood yet for supplies, and as it’s a fair way from the main road, I’m hoping no one else has either. As I get closer, I see that at some point this must have been a cozy little community. The walls of the houses are stucco, the roofs red tile, as if designed to look like a Spanish village. An old swing on a backyard jungle gym sways, its metal links creak in the wind. The houses, obviously cheaply made, aren’t suitable for shelter anymore. After just over three years, many are missing doors and windows.
Houses like that don’t stand a chance against Them.
At about a hundred feet away, I break into a full run. There seem to be more survivors in this area, more than I ever saw in Chicago. They won’t be active during the day, but if someone’s staking out this place, I don’t want to give them time to catch me. There’s no sign of anyone, so I flatten myself against the wall of the first house and peek inside. No hint of life, not even a breeze.
As I make my way inside, I let out a sigh. The place is wrecked. It’s not the old bloodstained walls that sadden me. Evidence of past Florae attacks have become so commonplace, I barely even register scenes of death anymore. I’m just disappointed that the house has been ransacked already. The cabinets are thrown ajar and empty, the couches overturned. Even the pillows have been ripped open, the stuffing strewn across the floor.
Some people are worse than Them, I sign, then bite my lip to keep the tears back. I’m talking to Baby in our secret language. But she’s not here with me anymore.
A quick check of the other houses reveals nothing but a half-empty bottle of vodka. I toss it into my pack. You never know when you need disinfectant or a Molotov cocktail. My time with the Guardians taught me that.
At the last house, I freeze when I see it in the backyard: an orange tree, full of fruit. I haven’t seen fresh fruit in a long time, not since New Hope. Hands shaking with anticipation, I pick every one. When I can’t fit any more into my pack, I sit on the ground, peeling orange after orange and jamming the sections into my mouth. The sweet taste helps the emptiness for a while. I eat until my stomach feels like it will burst.
I rest in the shade of the tree, satisfied. My contentment is fleeting, though, and soon the emptiness returns, not just a gnawing in the pit of my stomach but a hollowing out of my entire being. It’s impossible to avoid the loneliness that has haunted me since leaving New Hope, so I let it wash over me. I nearly give in to it, and sit under the tree, waiting until something hostile finds me. In the end I fight the despair, pushing it down inside where I don’t have to deal with it. I stand, determined not to give up.
Time to go, I sign to the empty air.
Chapter Two
On a shady side road, I make my way back toward the place I’ve made my home. I pick up my pace, anxious to return before nightfall. I used to be afraid of the day, but the sonic emitter that Kay gave me keeps me safe from the Floraes. Night is what worries me now, when I hear the occasional voice nearby or a gunshot in the distance. There are people out here. Not many, but enough. They are alive in the After, which means they were either smart and figured out the Floraes’ behavior, or they are just mean enough to survive. I don’t want to find out which.