Eliot Strange and the Prince of the Apocalypse

36) Last Stand of the Rebel Editor

Steven and I ride in silence. I am driving even though Steven usually says I drive like a grandma. He doesn't complain at all today. I don't know what to say, and he doesn't seem to want to talk. The streets of Mount Airy are deserted. It looks literally like the end of days and like everyone who didn't want to participate in all the fun left town. Before, at least when you walked through town and didn't see someone, you would hear something that made you think of civilization. A person coughing, a child playing. Something. Now dead silence. Not so much as a curtain pulls back as we pass by. There is not a wave from a porch. Everyone is gone or hiding quite effectively. It is creepy in a way it has not been until today.

Despair. Utter despair engulfs my town.

The stench is not helping. We know what it is because people have been dying since the EMP. They ran out of oxygen or insulin or alcohol or hope and died. At first the city tried to keep up with daily pickups of the dead, but soon it became - bring your dead to the curb, and we'll pick them up like garbage. Then, there were no more garbage pickups, and people without family or friends were left to rot in their homes. The smell was horrific at first, but we became used to it. Just another annoyance of the end times. Steven and I adapted. The smell was a clue to which houses might be deserted by all but the dead, and those were the ones we raided for supplies.

It is not just isolated homes today. The whole city smells like death. It is eerie. Cue the scary music.

Steven is freaked out too because he says in a half whisper, "Where is everybody?"

I shrug. I don't think we need to whisper because there is no one left to hear us.

When we get to The Mount Airy Daily News office, it is as deserted as the rest of the town. We walk through the office and step over broken pieces of machinery and strewn papers. I am guessing that our editor has packed up and left. He's gone to look for his wife.

Just as we get ready to leave, I hear a faint, "Help me."

It's Editor Ned. He is lying back behind a desk all curled up in a bloody ball of hurt. I am not sure I would know him in another setting because his face is beaten so badly that he looks like he is bleeding even from his eyes. He is breathing with short choppy breaths that sound painful to take.

Steven and I sit him up and try to make him more comfortable. "I am going to get some water and a rag," says Steven. "See if I can find a first aid kit."

Steven looks at me. He knows no first aid kit is going to fix this.

"First aid kit," I repeat.

"Right," he says to me and then to Ned, "We are going to fix you right up. I had some CNA training in school. No worries." He pats Ned's arm and goes to find the supplies.

"Can I have some water? Thirsty, been here awhile," says Ned.

I offer him some water. "What happened? I thought you were leaving. Going to find your wife."

"I had to get the word out. Like Adam and Leia said. About the prince. Let people know we needed help. And I did, but then they came."

"Who?"

"A woman and three men in a jeep. A red jeep. One man stayed outside like he was guarding the door. At first they tried to trick me. One of them asked a lot of questions. The other man kept smacking me, and then punching me when I didn't give him the answers they wanted. They acted like they knew the prince. I figured it out. The mean one was too clean, too well fed. It was a trick."

"Knew the prince?"

"Tried to get me to tell. What I know, but I didn't tell."

"Who were they? Tell what?" I ask.