The Apocalypse Blog
by Melanie Edmonds

I just realised today’s date. Wow. Valentine’s Day.

I feel like we should do something for that. Not for Ben and me, but for all of the people we love. For those who can’t be here, for the people who matter to us. For all of the dots on our map.

I bet someone here knows a love song or two we can sing.

• Theme song: Somewhere Out There - Linda Ronstadt & James Ingram

Everyone is on edge today. We can’t go anywhere yet, and that’s fine with me – I want to look for Matt.

I have a lot of opposition. Ben doesn’t like that I still wanted to go after him and Dillon wants me to stay here with the others. Thorpe disapproves too, enough that he said I couldn’t go, and Masterson said I was an idiot. Seeing as none of them can actually stop me, I told them to stick it (except Dillon – I told him I was sorry, but I had to do this).

Now, I have a dilemma. The boys don’t want me to go, and I think if I confront them about it again, they’ll either sit on me or come with me. But the injured need them here, in case the sharks come back. Going on my own isn’t exactly a good idea either, in case I run into the sharks.

I think I’m going to have to, though. I can’t risk any of the others on this. Soon as I’m done here, I’m going to try to sneak out.

Sneaking out didn’t exactly go as planned. The actual sneaking away part wasn’t too bad – I managed to get all the way out of the mall before anyone came looking for me. I waited out there for a few minutes, just along from the door, to see if anyone had spotted my exit.

I was expecting Ben to be the one to follow me out, but it was Dillon who stuck his head outside the mall’s doors. I had to talk him into going back inside, and made him promise not to tell Ben where I’d gone. He was unhappy, but he’s a good kid. He keeps his promises.

Once that was dealt with, I had no idea where I was going. I set off in the direction that I saw the sharks go in, keeping to the walls as much as I could. It was quiet, as if the buildings were all holding their breath, and I went a couple of blocks before I heard anything that sounded like people.

I headed towards it, cautiously, without really having a plan for what I would do when I got there. I just hoped that Matt would be with them, and that they wouldn’t attack me on sight.

As it turned out, he wasn’t. On my way towards the voices, a hand grabbed my arm from out of nowhere. I almost jumped right out of my skin, spinning around and lifting my broomhandle to fend off whoever it was (I wasn’t quite stupid enough to go without a weapon).

“Mac?” He flinched back, but I didn’t hit him. It took me a moment to recognise my own name – no-one has called me that since the bomb went off. Only my friends called me that. And here was one, right in front of me.

I couldn’t help grinning at him. “Matt.”

“Are you crazy? Come on, get out of the street.” He wasn’t grinning.

He ushered me into a nearby building that had had all its windows smashed. We stood behind the curtain that shielded the display mannequins from the rest of the store while the voices neared us. He watched the street tensely, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. It was really him, he was really here. My Matt, alive and in one piece.

It hardly looked like him, standing with hunched shoulders and a scowl. He was always so neatly turned-out before, took real pride in his appearance, and there he was with torn jeans and a stained shirt. Stubble shadowed his jaw. His bleached hair was growing out, turning shaggy, all dark roots and blonde tips. I haven’t seen him without hair gel since we were twelve.

But I’d know his face anywhere, and I’d know those hands of his, the way they moved, even when they clenched uncertainly.

The last time I saw him, he was naked and I was sneaking out of his bedroom. I was so scared that there would be weirdness between us. Now, seeing him again, I tried not to think about that night (and morning). I was just so glad that he wasn’t dead – I’d even take the weirdness and be happy.

The sharks passed by and he relaxed. When he looked at me, I couldn’t help it – I just about jumped on him. I hugged him hard enough to make us both wince and had to apologise when I let go again. I was smiling too brightly to be truly sorry and blinked back tears without too much success.

“What are you doing here?” There was a sign of the softie, in the eyes as damp as mine, though he was trying not to show it.

“Looking for you.”

“You’re insane. Don’t you know what they’ll do to you if they find you?”

“I… yeah.” I shrugged. It was hard to care when he was here and I was fine. “What are you doing here?”

“I was coming to warn you. They’re heading back to the mall.”

“They’re… what?” The smile was gone all of a sudden. The sharks were heading back to the others. “Oh god.”

I was going for the door before I had time to think about it. I had to get back, I had to warn them, help them, anything. Matt grabbed my arm again before I made it out onto the street.

“You’re going back to them?”

“Yeah, of course. They’re my friends.”

He looked at me and let me go. “I’ll take you the back way. Come on.”

We tore off towards the mall, Matt leading me down alleys and right through buildings with broken doors. I could hear the sharks, but he kept me away from actually seeing them. We finally broke into the loading bay of the mall and made our way up a set of access stairs to the first balcony. I couldn’t get across to where the group was holing up – the caved-in roof had taken out the walkway around to that side. Downstairs, the sharks were just starting to dribble into the building.

I could get over to the group, so I opted to make noise instead. I banged my broomhandle on a railing and shouted until the boys came running out. I pointed until their expressions turned grim and they went to meet the sharks at the head of the stairs. Matt hissed at me to be quiet, but I ignored him. A couple of sharks peeled off and tried to get up to where I was, but all of the stairs on that side had been knocked down by the fallen ceiling.

I’ve heard that higher ground was an advantage, but I didn’t realise how much until I saw the fight across the mall. It was so frustrating – I wanted to be over there helping, not wincing in sympathy from such a distance. I caught myself shouting out directions – look out, over there – as that was all I could do. The sharks definitely came off worst this time around – the others drove them off without too many problems.

After they were gone, Ben came to the gap in the walkway to call over to me. I told him I was fine, not to worry; he was unconvinced. Matt coming out of hiding behind me didn’t make his expression any more forgiving. I told him we’d make our way over to the other side of the mall and to wait there.

That was easier said than done. Matt took me out another back way, in case the sharks were still lurking around the front, and we wound up having to hide a couple of times while stragglers wandered past. It took a lot longer than it should have.

He found a way into the right part of the mall, and then I had to deal with the where-the-hell-were-yous and what-the-hell-were-you-thinkings. I pointed out that if I hadn’t gone, we might not have had any warning about the attack at all. And Matt had just taken me into a part of the mall where they couldn’t get to me – why don’t we go there in case they decide to come back again?

The injured needed more time to recover, but they were well enough to go that far. So we packed up and followed Matt through the back corridors and alleyways into the cut-off part of the mall. We were just getting settled into a new store when the rain started, and Matt looked uncomfortable, like he had wanted to go once we didn’t need him any more. But now he’s stuck here with us for the night.

Everyone is upset with me right now. Ben’s furious, Dillon looks hurt, Matt isn’t talking at all and the others aren’t saying much of anything. I couldn’t take their looks any more, so I’m sitting on my own at the moment. I suppose I deserve it, but that doesn’t make it easier. 

Ben seems to have taken my words about not bottling things up seriously: he came to see me last night. He demanded to know how he was supposed to protect me if I was going to run off and leave him behind. I told him that I was trying to protect him, that I couldn’t bear to have anything happen to him because of me. He didn’t like it, but this isn’t a one-way thing.

He went quiet and I pushed at it. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but everyone has been having a go at me since I got back. I had to stand up for myself, I had to make them see why. I had to make them forgive me somehow. And I couldn’t do that if he wouldn’t talk to me.

So I told him that I’m fine. They’re the ones who got hurt yesterday, not me. Everything turned out okay. I just had to find Matt. I had to know that he was okay. And he’s not – the more I see him, the more I know it.

It’s different for Ben. He’s had his crewmate here this whole time – he might not always get along with Thorpe, but they have that connection. No-one else in the group has that. We’re all looking for someone, or several someone’s. And Matt’s one of mine. He’s my best friend, and he was a dot on the map.

He still didn’t say anything; he just frowned at my hand in his. When I pushed him for a response and he asked me if I was his, if we were together. He held my hand so tightly, even when I said that we were, we are together. I told him that I wasn’t like that and I’d never cheat on him. I knew what that felt like, and I’d never do it, never. I don’t think that that was what he was asking, though.

He said that we couldn’t be together if I was going to run off. Being together meant that he looked after me, and he couldn’t do that if I didn’t let him. I’m not used to that. I’m not used to someone wanting to take care of me like that, someone needing me more than I need them. Ben is so solid that I never thought he might need to be needed too.

There’s something more to this that I didn’t dare get too close to. Something in the way that he mentioned looking after me, something in the way he wanted to protect me. I already felt awful for making him feel like this, and I was trying not to cry. I couldn’t take any more of it. I was shaking inside, waiting for him to give up and tell me to shove it, to tell me that I’d ruined this thing we have. I didn’t want him to go away.

But he didn’t. He asked me to promise not to go off on my own again, and I did it, without hesitation. Then he kissed me and the tension between us turned into heat. I think we both needed that. I don’t know if it really resolved anything, but the arguing is over now and things are calmer between us.

I got a smile out of him this morning. I think – I hope – we’re going to be okay.

I found Matt being questioned by Thorpe and Dillon this morning. Asking about his group – meaning the sharks – and what they’re after. I almost intervened, but I didn’t need to.

“They let me live, but they don’t feed me or anything,” he said. “I’m not one of them. They’ll attack you because they can. They like it. Then they take what they want and leave.” He shrugged, understanding and liking it as little as we did.

As answers went, it seemed to appease the others. From the way he talks about the sharks, ‘letting him live’ doesn’t mean ‘safe’ or ‘untouched’. No-one has said anything about that, but no-one really needs to. I don’t think Dillon quite understands what it means, and that’s a good thing.

The differences in Matt are more than skin deep. There’s an easiness missing from him, and the lightly-dropped quips have dried up on his tongue. He doesn’t smile the same way he used to. He used to be the brightest personality in a group, greeting everyone, all smooth exchanges. He had a knack for making everyone feel like a friend right away, for sliding into a situation and making it his own. Now, he’s closed in on himself, trying not to draw anyone’s attention. The way he moves reminds me of Sally.

We caught up today. Swapped stories of what we were doing when it all came down, and what we did after. He was on his way home from a friend’s place when the bomb hit. He tried to carry on towards home at first, but got held up by the need to find food. Then the rain came and the sharks gathered, and it has been too dangerous to go anywhere since.

He didn’t offer details and I didn’t ask. He’s usually an open person, especially with me, so I wasn’t going to push him. I can fill in the blanks enough for myself.

I look at him and see someone who is more taken from than taking. He was always a generous guy, but this is different; this isn’t about giving. This is about power.

He asked about my arm, and I told him a building fell on it. He looked shocked until I explained that it was only a bit of the building and most of it missed me. It’s almost healed now; I can probably take the brace off it soon. He asked about the group as well, and I told him how we found each other. He seemed surprised that we were getting along so well. If only he knew.

While Matt and I were talking, Sally came to ask me what we were doing about the food situation – after losing half our supply to the river, we’re running short now. We had checked the other side of the mall – there was still this side to go through.

Matt said he knew where there was some food we could have. He showed us to a hidden cupboard at the back of a sports store where there was more than enough to fill our bags up. I took him aside and asked him if this was his stash, what he’d been living on. He didn’t answer; he just looked at me.

He’s staying with us today. He’s not going to stay here after we go, though. I don’t plan to let him.

Last night, we sang like a group again. It was sad at first, but then we got into old pop songs and laughed trying to remember all of the words. I made Matt sit with us; he didn’t join in, but he listened and he’s here.

Today, we thought it was best to stay where we were and give the injured more time to recover. Sax still isn’t steady on his feet, and there’s something… missing. He’s not fighting any more. I thought he hadn’t given up after he found out that his daughter was missing, but maybe he has. Maybe momentum is all that has been carrying him forward, and now that he’s stopped, he won’t start moving again.

I have to make him get up again. I have to make him want something again. I don’t know how – I can’t replace his daughter. Not even Nugget can do that.

We took the time to lay the map out and try to figure out how to get across the river. There aren’t any more bridges for miles – we’ll lose days, maybe weeks more if we have to go upriver to the next one. On top of that, there are no guarantees that that one will be safe to cross either.

Thorpe asked if we should forget about trying to get across the river and move on to the next marker on our map. I think that’s the first time I ever saw the big fella and the doctor agree about something (Masterson is usually of the ‘why bother?’ attitude).

I asked which one of them was going to tell Dillon that we weren’t going to look for his family because it was a bit difficult. Neither of them had an answer for me; even Masterson didn’t want to break the kid’s hopes like that. If we can face Stripers and fight off sharks, then we can cross a stupid river. That was the end of that idea.

I’m just glad that Dillon wasn’t there to hear that part of the discussion. He still looks up to Thorpe – I think the kid idolises him. It would have broken his heart.

The question of boats came up. There are some around, patiently awaiting the return of dead owners. Most have long since floated away – the rain probably ate through the ropes. Matt said that he had seen some driven up onto the riverbank not too far from the mall; he’s going to show us where they are.

No-one has complained about him being here. They haven’t even asked much about him. Maybe it’s because he found food for us; he didn’t even complain when we stuffed our bags full of it. There’s nothing left there now, nothing for him beyond what he’s carrying.

I suppose that’s true for all of us here.

The sharks didn’t bother us again until this morning. It was early – barely light outside, an orange glow eking in through the gaps in the roof. Sally was on watch and rushed in to wake us.

We all piled out of our night’s hideyhole and assembled at the edge of the balcony. The sharks were already inside, but this time they couldn’t get to us; the advantage was on our side for once.

They stopped below us, looking stiff-jawed and angry. One of them was missing his forearm; from the ground-meat look of his elbow, he lost it to the rain. He looked pale and sweaty. One of his more capable cohorts took up the task of talking to us.

“You took somethin’ of ours.”

We looked at each other, wondering what the hell they were talking about. Thorpe was the one who made a guess, hefting his favourite bit of heavy pipe in his hand. “Your pride?”

I had no idea that Thorpe could be funny. I almost laughed in surprise.

Of course, the sharks didn’t think it was funny. “No. Him.” The speaker pointed at Matt, who was standing at the edge of our group, and my stomach tightened. Of course that’s what they were talking about. “We want him back.”

“He doesn’t belong to you.” I couldn’t keep quiet; their attitude and that idea made me angry.

“Actually, he does.” There was something smug about the smile the speaker gave me that I wanted to slap right off his face. I had my broomhandle gripped tight and wished for a second that he would come within reach.

Matt touched my elbow lightly and said, “Mac, I don’t want to cause trouble.” I met his eyes and couldn’t let him do what he was about to. He was trying to hide it, but he looked scared. That knot in my stomach knew that he was scared of them, and not for my sake.

“You’re not,” I told him firmly and turned to face the sharks again. “If he wants to go with you, he can. Otherwise, he’s welcome to stay with us.”

“And if you want to take him, you’re welcome to try.” Again, Thorpe’s words surprised me. I’m not used to his support, especially when I just invited someone to stay with the group without asking any of them. But what was I supposed to do? Just let him go when he didn’t want to? To them?

The sharks eddied about beneath us, growling to each other, as if their feet might chew at the cracks in the floor and undermine us. Then one of them flinched and turned to glare at one of the stretches of balcony. Another small object was launched over and at them – the bobbly head of a doll, taken from the toy store nearby. The sharks shouted, which only prompted a stream of plastic heads, hurled by little hands over the balcony. Dillon and Nugget both had pretty good aim.

Outnumbered, outgunned and with no way up to us, the sharks snarled a few threats and backed off. After a few steps, they turned tail and ran off, arms lifted to fend off the decapitated rain.

We all laughed, quietly so they wouldn’t be tempted to turn around again. I glanced at Matt, and he looked unhappy and apprehensive. He’s safe, though, and that’s what matters.

Since then, we’ve been too busy getting our stuff together to move out. Time to go again.

Getting to the riverside was tricky. We had to be sure to avoid the Sharks – I referred to them using that name yesterday, and it seems to have stuck. We might have seen them off, and we might have gained some confidence, but we’re all far too bruised to assume that it’s over. None of us are foolish enough to think that they might not come after us to wipe the smiles off our faces. We’re not cocky enough to lose our hard-earned paranoia.

It was slow going. We didn’t bother with vehicles – we weren’t far from the place where Matt said he’d seen the boats, so we decided to walk. Or rather, creep, checking around us all the time, trying to walk along the edges of the road and stay out of sight. Sax needed support and a couple of the others were moving stiffly as well, still healing. I’m sore too, but not so much that I’ll complain.

We managed to avoid being seen, and we found several boats washed up on the scrap of riverside that Matt took us to. The jetties around here were mostly wood and had been worn down to useless nubs by the rain, their ropes burned through to set the tethered vessels free. The ones on the shore had been unlucky enough to beach themselves in their attempt at freedom, and we found a couple that were still lashed to their trailers.

We had to search them one at a time, boosting one of the smaller members of our group up to see if it was worth the rest of us following. A couple of the boats were full of water, and we quickly left them alone. There was hesitation over whether to try the ones that weren’t completely out of the water, until I went down and stuck the end of my broomhandle into the river. It came out with a soft sucking sound, but it wasn’t marked – no scores or burns. None of us wanted to spend any time standing in it, but at least we knew we didn’t have to be terrified of the river’s water any more.

We found one boat that was still dry inside, big enough to hold us all, and with engines that we thought we could get going. It was tricky work, mostly because the boat was listing to one side and I’m not familiar with boat engines. Sax wasn’t able to help me figure out the electrical stuff, but Ben gave me a hand. The others had to find a way to get the boat back into the water.

My hands are a mess of scrapes and broken nails now. There was a time when the latter would have mortified me. Now it’s just inconvenient.

The rain came before we had a chance to finish, but we should be able to get out on the water tomorrow. Sax is going to take a look at the radio on board as well, if he’s feeling better by then, as it should have more range than the hand-held one that Thorpe has. We keep checking, but we haven’t had any replies over the radio waves yet. Maybe tomorrow.

Matt almost didn’t come with us. We were clambering carefully into the boat, pushing and pulling each other up onto the prow so that we didn’t have to step into the water. There was just him, Ben and Thorpe left on the sand, and it was Matt’s turn to be handed up. He stood back, though, and just looked at us. I was kneeling on the boat’s deck, holding out a hand to help him up.

My heart shifted uncomfortably in my chest when he met my eyes. He wasn’t going to come. He flicked glances between the rest of us and looked like a puppy that was expecting to be kicked.

“You guys don’t need me any more,” he said. As if we had only let him stay with us because he had been useful. And he had been useful – more so than any of us would have asked. More so than most of us in the group, actually.

“If we only kept the people we needed, Thorpe wouldn’t keep trying to leave the doctor behind,” I told him. I was trying not to sound desperate, even while I was eyeing the ground in case I had to jump down again.

“And we wouldn’t keep that damn cat with us,” Ben put in. I was so grateful that I sent him a smile. “Speaking of which, where–”

Jones chose that moment to appear and wind around Thorpe’s ankles, making the big fella sigh. “Better hand him up before he tries to climb you again,” I pointed out.

To my surprise, he scooped the cat up and did just that. “Got enough scratches for one week, thanks.”

I handed the cat off to Nugget and looked to Matt again. He was still uncertain, an expression that slid into something else when there was noise from up the street. We had been spotted and the sharks were coming to see us off.

“Matt, c’mon. We have to go.” I didn’t want him down there when the sharks arrived. I didn’t want anyone still on the shore when that happened.

There was helplessness in the look he gave me and it felt like I was losing him. “They won’t let me go, Mac.” Experience weighed heavy in his voice, and now he’d given up trying. But that wasn’t good enough.

I glanced towards Ben and Thorpe for help, feeling the seconds trickling away as the noise up the street resolved into footsteps pounding towards us.

“Time’s running out, kid,” Thorpe pointed out. It didn’t help; Matt only looked more uncomfortable, like he was ready to bolt.

“It’s not up to them!” I wanted to jump down, but I had to be on the boat to help him up. All I could do was stretch my hand out towards him and try to give him the will to take it. “Come with us, Matt, please.”

Ben stepped up to Matt’s side, and I could barely hear what he said. “Now’s your chance to get away from them. Take it, while you can.”

Matt looked between us and I could see him slip into the decision. He hesitated, but he stepped up to grab my hand, just as the sharks were coming into sight on the edge of the sand. The boys boosted him up, and he got a quick hug once he was on deck. He even smiled a little bit.

The sharks shouted and pelted across towards us. Ben and Thorpe were already pushing the boat out into the water and hauling themselves on board. Rocks followed them, pinging against the boat’s deck, as the sharks yelled and rained their frustration on us.

It didn’t matter; they were too late. Matt’s one of us now.

I never want to go in a boat again. That was one of the most awful experiences of my life. Well, okay, not counting the bomb going off and the city coming down and the rain and all the bad stuff that’s happened since then. Just never again with the boat, okay?

I’ve been on boats before. Dad took me fishing a couple of times when I was young. It was fine – I never reacted badly to the motion. I remember one time he had to shout at me to stop running around the boat, because I was having so much fun. But not this time.

I think it was  the smell. I hadn’t noticed it before, but out on the river, surrounded by it, there was no escape. Rotting things, putrid waste all roiling together and sliding past the bow. The slapping of the water against the fibreglass hull. The humidity that made our clothes stick to our skin like undead, clammy hands. We couldn’t help but breathe it all in.

I managed not to throw up. God knows we don’t have the food supplies to go wasting it like that – that might be the only reason I managed to keep it down. But I really wanted to. I had to breathe shallowly and try to ignore the fact that it felt like the whole world was rippling and rolling, not just the water.

Once we were afloat and all on board, we hunkered down and waited for the sharks to stop throwing rocks at us. After a little while, they gave up and went away. Ben and Thorpe changed their wet pants and socks – we’re still wary of getting wet, even if this kind doesn’t burn on contact. Who knows what else it might do? And it’s disgusting: we might not have washed properly for weeks, but that doesn’t mean we want to go splashing in that. Once all was quiet, I started up the engines and off we went.

There was one tricky moment when the boat dipped into a swell, deep enough that the waves threatened to wash over the deck. It’s not something that any of us would have thought about twice before, but now that the river is broken and the skies have turned against us, nothing about this is safe.

Everyone was crammed down in the cabin below except Ben and me – he was the only one who had driven a boat like this before, and being enclosed just made me feel worse. Besides, I had to be topside in case there was a problem with the engines.

I shut the others belowdecks, lashing all the hatches closed, while Ben fought with the boat to keep the water off us. My heart felt like it was being thumped with heavy-tipped sticks, right up against my breastbone.

On reflection, the boys should have changed into dry clothes after we had finished with the river. Both Ben and I were splashed, which only made me want to vomit more strongly – there’s something slippery about the river water, as if there’s oil in it, or three-quarters moisturising cream.

I couldn’t wait to get that damn boat lashed up so we could get off. There was a concrete pier on the opposite bank, a short trek upriver from where we started, and we had chains to use in place of ropes. Once the chains were fastened and the hatches were opened, I was up that ladder like greased lightning (and wishing it was grease on me).

I’m dry now, fresh clothes all over (which means I’ve only worn them four or ten times before). I dumped the ones I was wearing. Matt said he’d read in a book about someone using oil to wash in rather than water. The next time we find a bottle of olive oil, I’m going swimming in it.

I am not looking forward to the return trip, not at all.