Humanity Gone: After the Plague Read Free

up.
                  We each gather some clothes.  Fall had just begun so we also want to prepare for the winter ahead.  We pack everything as tightly as we can and place it by the door.  The piece of luggage is heavy but luckily it has some wheels and our backpacks pull tightly against our shoulders.  As we stand there, we both glance back at the apartment.  I think we both feel the same eerie feeling: we will never see our home again.  This was not our first home, in fact we had moved around a lot, but it was our longest home in the past few years since mom died.   Beside the television set was a photograph from three years ago, the last one with mom.  It was at some picnic.  We all look so happy.  Dad smiles ear to ear with mom around his left arm and Jo and me under his right.  Jo was starting to look a lot like mom.  They had the same strawberry blonde hair and wore it nearly the same way.  Dad and I didn't look too much alike, but we shared the same eyes.  That was one of the last times we would be together as a family.  We lost mom a few weeks later.  Now, we just lost dad.  I feel the tears from earlier creep up on me.  I shake my head.  Jo seems to have read my mind as she goes to the photograph, takes it out of the frame, and tucks it into her bag.
                  I almost forgot. There is only one more thing to get.
    I finally step over to the closet and bring down my dad's safe box, or whatever you call it.  The combination is simple: 888.  I look in at its contents, and a small revolver with a half empty box of bullets peers back up.  I don't really like guns.  I stuff it in my jacket pocket and put the rest of the bullets in my book bag.  My sister gives me a weary look. 
                  “You could never use that.” she says, worried.  And she is right.
                  “I know,” as I fumble with it in my pocket, trying to make it look less noticeable. “It may help with a bluff though.  Hey, maybe I could shoot a deer with it when we get settled.” Jocelyn’s eyebrow rises. I don't know the first thing about deer hunting.   I exhale with a mild grin.  It was a poor joke.
                  “We'll figure it out,” she returns with a half smile.  A smile of uncertainty. “Let's get going. Dad would have wanted us to leave as soon as we could.”
                  “What should we do with dad?” I ask.  Leaving him there didn't seem like the best option.  He should be buried. Jo looks at me and her eyes show a struggle with what to do.
                  “If things get under control we will come back and take care of him.  There's no time.” She responds.  It’s not what she wants to do, but it's what we have to do.
    I pull the door to the hallway open and slowly step outside as a very reasonable fear settles in. I don't know what to expect out here, and I don’t know if I’ll be capable of making all the right decisions.  This apartment was the last place we had control.  Outside-things were completely out of our hands.  Jo begins slowly down the hall toward the staircase that leads to the parking garage.  There’s no time to obsess about the future now; we need to move.  Instinctively, I turn and lock the door behind me.  Habit, I guess.
                  We begin our walk slowly down the hall.  The hall feels like a passageway to hell.  It’s quiet except for the muffled noises in the streets echoing through the wall.  After going down one flight of stairs, it gets dark.
                  The power goes out.
                  It is pitch black aside from the emergency exit sign that leads to the parking garage.  We fumble through the dark as I drag the luggage down the steps. I open the door to the garage and my eyes adjust to the light.  My nose fills with an awful stench and I try to grab Jo's head to cover her eyes, but I am too