After the Collapse

By Cali Weber

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This is a conceptual last chapter for a new pre-apocalyptic novel idea I’ve been chewing on lately. The perfect utopian society has collapsed, leaving us with a purge-like lawless nation.

The Midwest had always been too quiet for Valerie. Growing up in the pumping heart of New York, she had always been sung to sleep at night by the cacophony of cars far below her window. Noise was a constant, calming hum in Valerie’s life and she had come to miss when it was gone. The times when Cassandra’s campaign tour had stopped in any of the middle states of the country, Valerie always found herself lying awake long into the night. Cassandra loved spending time in the middle states—the heart of the country, she called it—and spending nights on the porch listening to the crickets. Valerie thought her mentor was crazy.

“Just enjoy the peace, Valerie,” Cassandra had said on one such night, so many years ago. “Soon our lives will not be so quiet.”

Now, nearly twenty years later, Valerie wished she could hear the sound of the crickets. Even they had gone quiet with the collapse.

Stumbling down the street, feet aching from the miles she’d walked, Valerie looked around the decrepit town. The moon gave off enough light for the shadows to deepen around corners. Anyone could be hiding there, waiting to jump her. Valerie didn’t think she was such a recognizable person. After all, she was just the president’s aide. She did not make decrees or carry out laws. Valerie didn’t even think she had been on camera with Cassandra. But the general populace knew her anyway, and after everything was destroyed, they vowed to destroy her too.

Valerie allowed herself to pause for a second, wincing as she examined her bare feet. She had lost them days ago, running from a pack of lunatics with metal farming tools. Valerie didn’t know if they could kill her, but she didn’t wait long enough to find out. How far she had fallen, this country Valerie loved, that they would stoop so low as to kill one of the people who was just trying to save it.

“The people don’t know what they need,” Valerie remembered Cassandra saying. That was during the later years, when rebellions were starting to garner more attention. They didn’t have the manpower necessary to silence them all the way they used to. “They know what they want, and they think they are the same thing. It’s not. The only person who knows what this country, this utopia, needs is me.”

Somewhere in the distance, a dog was barking. Valerie thought it sounded sad, like it was searching for its owner amidst the abandoned buildings. When the electricity grid collapsed, everyone left the small towns. They flocked to the bigger cities, to areas where they thought they could find safety, food, and shelter. Valerie had witnessed the killings herself when she fled from the new capitol in South Dakota. People are merciless when they feel threatened. They will do anything to get more resources for themselves.

A rumbling sensation tore its way through Valerie’s stomach, forcing her to hunch over. She hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday, when she was lucky enough to find an apple tree in the backyard of a home. There were three lonely apples on one of the highest boughs, forcing Valerie to climb up the crooked tree to get them. She nearly fell, but it was the first food she had found in two days at that point. Her desperation dulled her fear.

Valerie opened the satchel strapped across her body, digging to the bottom. She knew there was no more food in there, having eaten all the apples already, but she couldn’t help but hope that a loaf of bread had somehow miraculously appeared in there. Maybe a bottle of wine as well. If there was anyone who needed a drink right now, it was her.

“Ridiculous,” Valerie muttered to herself, voice rough from disuse. Of course there was no food in the bag. She looked up, scanning the buildings around her. There was a small grocery store across the street from where she stood. The windows on the front of the building were shattered, everything likely stolen from inside already by the survivors of the area. Her stomach still growling, Valerie decided it couldn’t hurt to try.

She scurried across the street to the store, careful not to impale her foot on any of the broken glass. The shelves inside the store were empty, just as she predicted. Valerie couldn’t help but hope there was still something hiding somewhere in the store. Perhaps a greedy manager had hidden a stash of snacks in the office?

Valerie ventured deeper into the store, scanning the shelves for anything edible. The shadows thickened as she crept, the moonlight not reaching this far into the store. She could barely see two feet in front of her. Valerie placed her hands on the shelves, feeling around for any abandoned food. She prayed no fuzzy critters would scamper over her fingers on the same mission.

After twenty minutes of searching, Valerie gave up hope of finding food within the store. She followed the moonlight back to the broken windows, peering outside. The silence was disturbing, her stomach the only sound for what seemed like miles. Valerie wished for food, for something to quell this rumbling that could alert any hiding hermits to her presence. She had lived this long on her own, there was no way she was letting herself die now.

Crack. Valerie froze, heart pounding in her chest. The sound had come from outside the store, just around the corner of the building. She waited, listening carefully. A soft brushing sound, like shoes against concrete, floated to her ears. Valerie started sweating. She was exposed here, sitting openly in the moonlight behind these broken windows. She needed a hiding spot or a weapon, now.

Valerie turned around, scurrying as quietly as she could back into the shadows of the store. There was nothing on the shelves to use as a weapon—perhaps something in her bag could work? She dug through the few contents again. Mirror compact, phone, wallet, all useless. The phone was long dead, the mirror compact had run out of makeup, and money was useless when there was no society. Valerie froze again when the sound of crunching glass echoed into the store.

“I know you’re in here,” A female voice called out. “Are you hungry? There is no food left here.”

Valerie grabbed her phone. Maybe it was heavy enough to use as something to hit this girl with?

“I promise I won’t hurt you,” The woman called out again. She sounded young, not nearly as old as Valerie, but there was an experienced air to her voice. As if she was comfortable here, unafraid by the collapse of society around her. Maybe she has food.

Valerie crept toward the front of the store, phone in hand. She would aim for the girl’s throat, then her eyes. Surely that would be enough to subdue her and run away. She passed the last shelf, emerging farther into the light. A young woman, only around twenty years old by the look of it, stood on top of the broken glass. She held a walking stick in one hand and held the strap of her satchel with the other. The girl’s eyes scanned Valerie, as if assessing her for a threat. Valerie stood still for a heartbeat, two, and the girl’s eyes widened.

“You’re her,” The girl breathed. “The president’s aide.”

“You know who I am?” Valerie’s throat ached with thirst as she spoke.

“Of course,” The girl replied. “You’re the only one who escaped the capitol alive.”

Valerie gripped her phone tighter. “They’re all dead?”

The girl nodded. “Killed by rebels.”

The store was quiet around them, both women pondering the other. Valerie was twice her age. She was around that old when she first started working for Cassandra, back when she was just a woman with a dream of changing the world. Back in the divided times.

“I’m Brianna,” The girl offered, taking a step back into a more relaxed position. Valerie didn’t move.

“And you know my name.”

“You’re alone out here.” It wasn’t a question, Valerie noticed.

“Obviously. As you’ve so generously pointed out, all of my friends were murdered. If I was slower, I would be too.”

Brianna seemed to consider something for a second, tilting her head as she thought. There was a careful kindness in her gaze, like she had a secret she wanted to share but didn’t yet know if Valerie was worth the knowledge.

“I’m not trying to ruffle any feathers,” Valerie spoke. “I just want food. I haven’t eaten anything decent in weeks, just scrounging what I can find. If this is your turf, just let me go and I’ll leave. I’m just trying to live, kid.”

Brianna reached into her satchel and pulled out a parcel wrapped in cloth. She tossed it to Valerie, who had to drop her phone in order to catch it. Inside the carefully wrapped cloth was a chunk of bread and an apple.

“Aren’t we all,” Brianna smiled grimly.

“Where did you get this?” Valerie asked, stunned.

“My family’s compound,” Brianna explained slowly, as if this were a kernel of truth was not supposed to be sharing. “We have a small farming setup. There are a few families there, including mine and some of my friends. We take care of each other. If you promise not to be trouble, if all you truly want is to survive, then you can come with.”

Valerie considered what this girl was offering: a haven with food and socialization. Most of the people there would likely hate her for her part in the collapsed utopia, but others may sympathize with a girl just trying to do good. And the food was a bonus, of course.

“What do I have to do?” Valerie asked slowly, raising the bread to her mouth. It was soft and fresh, with a slight smoky flavor as though it had been baked over a fire. Valerie assumed it likely had.

Brianna grinned, stepping closer. “Just pull your weight. Help out where you can, and if you can’t we’ll teach you.”

Valerie finished chewing and swallowing the bite of bread. She had never been much of a grower—all the plants in her old New York apartment had always died. Something about this opportunity, though, Valerie thought she could handle.

            “Alright,” Valerie said. “Take me there.”