Betrayal

Maryann trudged heavily through the bleak evening light, winding her way down the path to the shelter. The unforgiving landscape was empty and gray, with dead trees and shrubs dotting yards and roadsides.

It had been 5 days since she’d seen anyone besides her sister, and she was beginning to feel as though they were the last two people on Earth. She knew they weren’t. 5 days ago they’d seen a small group of men scavenging, their guns drawn as though a threat were near. As far as Maryanne and Shelly knew, there was no one else around within a day’s walk.  

She’d been surprised to see even this group, had brightened momentarily as she recognized the sounds of voices, but her bright hope was followed immediately by the knowledge deep in the pit of her stomach that she couldn’t risk calling out to them. The risk of danger was too high, and they had no way to know whether the men would be friendly to two young women on their own. She and Shelly had remained hidden behind the rusty car, crouching in its shadow as they watched the men checking the neighborhood, looking for anything that could be used for their survival in this harsh new world. 

 She cursed herself as she remembered the length of rope they had carried out of one of the houses. She could have used that. But challenging them for any of their findings would have been beyond stupid. It would have been deadly.  

Grumbling softly to herself, she slid inside the shelter, a humble lean-to structure that she and Shelly had done their best to camouflage from anyone who might pass by. They had learned not to trust abandoned houses as refuge a month ago, when they’d narrowly escaped a much larger, much more violent group of men and women searching for supplies. Searching. Always searching. Always trying to make it to the next day, the next town. Maryanne didn’t know what the future would hold for anyone. Now it seemed like every day was a threat, when before it had been a promise.

She and her sister had temporarily halted their journey in the small suburb outside a large midwest city, knowing to go any farther into the city would be even more dangerous than the countryside had been. Maryanne had started to wonder where they were going. They had been traveling almost everyday until they’d constructed the lean-to. Now it seemed they had tacitly agreed to halt their directionless wandering. She didn’t know how long they would stay, but the hidden shelter felt as safe as she’d felt since the blast.

She still had trouble believing that her family was dead. Everyone. Only she and Shelly had escaped the blast, and that only because they had been downstairs doing laundry. Maryanne’s lips twisted in a grimace as she thought about laundry, about the fact that she and her sister had been doing such a mundane, hated chore as their world turned upside down. Now she would have cut off one of her toes if it meant she could put on clean clothes. She would do laundry every day without complaint, the washing and the folding, if it meant they could go back in time. 

Dirt everywhere. A film of greasy dirt covered everything. She tried not to think about where that grease had come from, since, in the before times, dust had just been...dust. Just the regular coating of fine powder from wind and passing traffic. Now it was oily. Somehow, she thought, all of those bodies were adding new texture to everyday life for those who had survived. The past making itself known to the present.

Shaking her head as though to clear it, she sat on her blankets and reached for the small box of photos that was sitting beside her pallet. She knew it probably wasn’t healthy, but she took comfort in looking at the handful of photos they had grabbed from the house in those few minutes after it had become clear that they were not safe in their family home. Maryanne had felt crazy, snatching at random items that she had known had no real value, but felt priceless in that moment. The photos crammed into a plastic pencil box had been the easiest choice. There was her mom, smiling softly as she looked into the camera, into her husband’s eyes as he snapped the photo. She was cradling her pregnant belly, the tender love and anticipation she felt shining in her eyes. There was her dad, holding Shelly’s newborn older brother, Nathan, as he sat on the hospital bed beside his wife. Nathan with birthday cake all over his face. A six year old Shelly wearing her mom’s high heeled shoes, holding an oversized purse on her arm, looking ready to take on the world. Shelly herself, hanging upside down on the monkey bars.  

Tears slid down her face as she put the photos back in their box. The memories hurt, and so did remembering their deaths. Each of their faces slack in the aftermath of the massive, Earth shattering explosion.  

“Hey I found a bottle of water!” Shelly’s voice was excited and proud, even though it was hushed. Voices carried when there was no sound of machinery or electrical interference.  

“Awesome!” Maryanne tried to casually wipe her cheeks clear of tears that were still drying on her skin. She knew she wasn’t fooling Shelly, but her sister didn’t say anything. Maryanne watched as Shelly tucked the bottle of water into her too-empty food bag. Maryanne’s was no better, and even though their supplies looked less depressing piled together, they knew better than to put everything in one bag. Another lesson learned the hard way. 

Shelly busied herself, fussing with their meager supplies, straightening their blankets, securing the door on their shelter. She was trying not to look at Maryanne.  

“Oh to hell with it!” Maryanne suddenly stood and hugged her sister. “Happy birthday, Shell.” She paused, then said, “I mean, I’m glad you were born and we should find a way to celebrate the fact that you were. Happy? I don’t know. But this is definitely a special occasion.” Resolutely, she turned to her own food bag and opened it. “I’ve been holding on to these for too long, and they’re going to expire. I just really loved the idea of having them, you know? But if there ever were a great time to enjoy strawberry pop tarts with icing, this is absolutely it.” She rummaged, confused.She had expected to be greeted by the crinkly, cheerful foil packet. “Have you seen the…”

Shelly had gone quiet and still behind her. The pop tarts were gone, and Shelly wore a guilty look on her face.