Humanity Gone: After the Plague

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Authors: Derek Deremer
Tags: Fiction, Science-Fiction, Action & Adventure
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to the grave.  After lowering myself back in, I pull the ranger off of the ground and lay him gently on the bottom.
                  Refilling the grave takes half the time of actually digging it.  As I finish the mound, I consider making some parting remarks.  There are only a few shovel-fulls left.
                  “Thank you, sir,” I begin, weakly.  I empty the shovel onto the mound two more times.  “You gave us some more time to get on our feet.”  The last bits of dirt fall from the shovel’s edge.  “Hopefully we’ll be ready by the time it runs out,” I say, more to myself than to him.
    I’m glad I came back.  Something about fulfilling this man’s final wishes gives me a sense of belonging here.  There are no adults left to do adult’s work.  I may be about as old as it gets, now.  Although that thought is intimidating, I feel a kernel of confidence sprout in my mind that says if anyone can handle this situation now, it’s me.
    I exhale as if the job is finished, but before I can look away, my thoughts return to my father.  Paralyzed, I realize that I’ll never have the opportunity to recover his respect, if that was even possible. 
    “ I swear, father.” I whisper while staring at the cross on the grave.   “ I swear that I won’t.”  I mean it.  Whatever it takes.  A few moments go by before I relax my grip on the shovel and use my dirty hands to wipe away the tears building in the corner of my eye.
    I finished burying my father.
    I turn my head toward the tool wall, and after a momentary pause, I collect its contents and pile them in the folded down back seat of the white SUV, including the bow and quiver full of white-finned red arrows. A wooden stop sign about 20 yards into the campground catches my eye.  My hand grabs the bow.
                  I hope you were right about these woods ranger. remembering his note, and the reference to game.  I hope the archery club at school taught me enough to do something about it.  Despite the pain in my arms and the quarter sized blisters on my hands, I pull back on the string and notch an arrow. My split-finger hold grabs the arrow I take a squared stance, just like I was taught. My arm raises the weapon.
                  The pain from digging is gone for a single moment, and all I feel is the tension in my leading hand and a focused stillness as I release the arrow.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 16: Jocelyn
                  I’m not sure how long it takes to dig a grave, so I try not to worry, but Jon’s been gone for a while.  Why was he so insistent upon going alone?  None of us should be doing anything alone anymore.  I’m going to make that a rule when he gets back.
                  I look toward the window for the thousandth time today to see if there is any hint of orange among the clouds.  The clear, bright, blue sky reminds me that it’s not as late as my nerves are telling me it is.
                  The rest of my day so far has involved a walk around the cabin site to get familiar with the nearby area and staring at our food supply trying to figure out how to ration it.  “Nutrition for survival in the event of a world-wide catastrophe” was not a topic that was covered in junior year health class this year.  I wish it had been.  It’s going to be very hard to feed the four of us in a way that we don’t waste away or go crazy from eating the same things over and over again.
                  I start to take some kind of inventory of what’s here from what Jon organized last night.  We have a ton of what appears to be some kind of generic canned pasta, as well as various soups, beans, jarred vegetables, and a few generic larger cans labeled “Chicken-in-a-Can.”  There is absolutely nothing appetizing about that.  My organic diet is about to end.  The pantry also holds some kind of perishable items that

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