[ i. rescue ]
october 23rd, 2010
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WHEN THE WORLD ENDED, it was supposed to be simple. At least, that was what Astrid Lancaster had always been told. One minute, there. The next minute, gone. Like the snap of one's fingers.
But when the world ended, it was not that simple. There was no sharp flash of blinding light. No tsunamis, no earthquakes. No cataclysmic rupture of the earth from within. No higher power from above, reaching down to pluck unsuspecting people away. There was nothing at all. The world ended, but it ended quietly. So deathly quiet that if someone were not listening, they might not hear it at all. It was like that old saying—"this is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper."
What a whimper it was.
The world had long since ceased in its routine and celestial dance, leaving all of humanity to writhe in a twisted existence. Of course, it was not a literal halt, no, but a sudden abruption of everything that had made life before bearable. Now, Earth was cruel. Astrid had once mused bitterly to herself that freezing to death would have been a kinder fate, for starvation now loomed as her executioner.
But that was not even the worst part. Astrid's darkest tormentor did not lie in death, but in the unknown that waited before that crossing. Because she did not know how she had wound up here. None of the world's survivors quite understood the cause of its ending, leaving hearts ruptured and minds without solace. Catastrophic endings, Astrid supposed, did not require explanations. They just happened. They were cruel specters, lurking in answers that could never be found.
In her horrifying new reality, Astrid knew that the once towering cities of America, once proud beacons of civilization, were now perilous traps. Society's collapse had activated a self-destruct sequence. Like a switch, the power grid turned off and did not turn back on again, plunging the world into permanent darkness. In mere days, Atlanta had devolved into danger and death, and Astrid had barely escaped its rotting clutches. That had been weeks ago, though, and it felt as if a lifetime of solitude had passed since then.
Astrid had not always been alone, however. For a while, after the initial fallout of disaster had subsided, she had been sheltering away with her older brother. He had lived a few blocks away from her own temporary Georgian suburbs and had been the closest physical relative Astrid had left to turn to when the rest of their family remained out of state. For long, isolated days, she and her brother had survived together, huddled away in the shadows; and they had survived well until he was taken, too, by the dead.
The dead. Another echo of a newfound doom. In the fresh shadows of a new world, infected hordes of the seemingly undead now roamed the earth. An illness that Astrid, despite her own experience in the medical background, could not understand, and had seemed to take the lives of nearly everyone around her—and yet in its ravaging wave of sick still chose to leave her unscathed. Bites and scratches were how the unnamed disease seemed to spread, and that was how the infection had eventually reached her brother. A ravenous pack of claws and teeth had torn him away before her very eyes, and the only reason Astrid had even been able to escape the threat herself was that the undead had been too busy eating her big brother.
It had been nearly two weeks since that bloody day, and Astrid's heart rebroke every day without his presence. The only relief she ever felt from her endless anguish lay in the knowledge that her reunion with him loomed far closer than she dared to imagine.
The image of her own torn, lifeless body, violated by the twisted hands of the undead, ripped through her consciousness again and again, jolting her from the depths of grief. Gasping for air, her mind frenzied and exhausted, Astrid regathered herself. She had been losing herself in thought more and more. Gradually, her green eyes shifted toward the dying sun, sinking further into the bleak horizon ahead.
Time had long-since lost its meaning. For days now, Astrid had been wandering aimlessly, her only intention lost somewhere in the back of her mind—leave the city. Her weary steps currently carried her along the desolate freeway leading back to the deadened heart of Atlanta, but she would not face those daunting skyscrapers behind her again. The barren lanes stretched before her, devoid of life or movement. Across the divide, the opposite side of the freeway lay strewn with discarded and looted vehicles—relics of desperate escape attempts now consumed by death. Unknown terrors had claimed the lives of so many countless souls here that Astrid could not dare to think too gravely of it.
Now, precisely sixty-one days into the collapse, (not that she was counting or anything), Atlanta had finally seemed to become an abandoned wasteland, devoid of life. The disease-ravaged horrors that haunted Astrid's nightmares seemed to have vanished from the streets, as well, temporarily calming her nerves. Yet, the silence that enveloped her both soothed and unsettled, a constant reminder of the precariousness of her existence. At least it was easy for Astrid to tell the living from the dead. More than once, she had been forced to fight battles with the undead. It took its toll on her spirit, yes, but it also increased her strength. With each infected corpse left in her wake, she grew stronger and became more determined to survive the encroaching darkness that ensured she lived to see another day.
And believe it or not, Astrid's survival instincts had been serving her well. She had mastered the art of adapting to apocalyptic circumstances, a skill honed long before she was thrust into this actual nightmarish reality. Moving from place to place, as she had done many times before in her life, she carried only the essentials, ready to act—or run—at a moment's notice. Her brother's pistol, its clip fully loaded, gleamed along her hip, and a blood-stained machete and a hunter's knife were her trusted companions, ready to fend off any undead threat. Her backpack contained a meager but vital collection of supplies—a spare set of clothes, five cans of food, two bottles of water, and a thick blanket. She also carried a map.
Now, studying the said map with a furrowed brow, where she hoped to find her next shelter before nightfall, Astrid's attention snapped to the faint yet piercing wail emerging from the abandoned city behind her. A vehicle alarm. Bewilderment filled her as she wondered how it could be real. After all, who could possibly remain alive in Atlanta?
Suddenly, a bright red sports car emerged from the shadowy depths of the desolate overpass, hurtling towards Astrid. Her heart raced, anticipation mingling with skepticism. Hope, she had learned, was seldom in this new world. Nonetheless, she stepped aside toward the freeway median, preparing for the car to pass by her without a second glance. Rescues were mere fantasies.
But then, to her shock and horror, the wailing red Mustang screeched to a halt right beside her.
Time froze as Astrid found herself at a crossroads, torn between fleeing and holding her ground. The relentless blaring of the alarm pierced her eardrums, and she inwardly winced in pain. Her hand now instinctively gravitated towards her brother's holstered pistol, poised to defend herself. Before she could draw the weapon, however, the tinted passenger's window rolled down, revealing a young Korean man in the driver's fine leather seat.
The man, who could not have been older than twenty-five, briefly scanned her over. As his eyes met hers, he timidly adjusted the faded ballcap that sat snug on his black hair. "Do you need help?" He called out, practically shouting to be heard over his own vehicle's alarm.
Astrid crossed her arms defensively over her chest. "Who are you?" She asked shortly.
There was no hesitation in the man's response. "Glenn," He answered. "You?"
Astrid held her tongue, reveling in her reluctance to disclose to this stranger—Glenn—her own name. She knew that in this deadly environment trust should not be given out so easily. Then again, she also understood that trust was a two-way street, and if Glenn was willing to approach her, even after noticing her exposed pistol, perhaps he held genuine intentions. After all, Glenn did not seem like a bad guy. Upon his own light-hearted introduction, expressing obvious concern for a mere stranger, he seemed like nothing more than a kid. He exuded differently from the other survivors Astrid had already encountered in prior days, the young man sitting before her still so untarnished by the grim realities of their changed world.
Astrid wondered if she could dare to put her faith in that innocence—to put her faith in Glenn.
"I'm Astrid," She finally replied, her voice laden with cautious acceptance.
Glenn offered a soft nod in greeting. "Well, do you need a ride anywhere, Astrid?" He persisted. His voice was still so loud, so determined to be heard over the awkward wail of the car's alarm. Could he not turn it off? "Or do you need someplace to stay? We've got a group up in the mountains," He explained. "We're taking in as many people as we can."
"We?"
Again, Glenn nodded, his resolve unwavering. "There's a whole bunch of us, up on the overlook of a quarry a few miles out. Some more of us are still in the city," He informed. "But we're all heading back to camp now." A steady pause filled the air before Glenn ventured further, "Are you alone?"
A whirlwind of questions consumed Astrid's conflicted mind. A camp? Other survivors? How many more like herself clung to life amidst the remnants of this decaying city? Astrid swallowed hard and looked down, assessing her own worn appearance. Though she tried to maintain an image of self-sufficiency, she knew that her time alone was dwindling. Yet, even with the impending promise of her death, she smartly remained wary of others and the burdens they carried. Even if Glenn proved trustworthy, there was no guarantee that the rest of his group would be as welcoming.
Of course, rejecting this offer would be both foolish and suicidal. Right? Hell. What more did she even have to lose at this point?
Astrid pressed her chapped lips into a firm line, and exhaled a timid breath, summoning the courage to speak louder than her looming fears. "I'll join you," She decided. "But . . ." Her voice trailed off momentarily, and she frowned inwardly, struggling to find the right words. "Well, do you have any questions for me?"
Glenn blinked, confusion suddenly etched on his features. "What do you mean?" He asked.
"I mean, wouldn't you like to know if I was a crazy, murdering psychopath or not?"
Glenn's mouth twitched nervously, uncertain of how to interpret Astrid's dry remark. Perhaps sarcasm had not been the best approach. Astrid had certainly been teasing, but she was suddenly worried Glenn did not know that. The tension hung in the air as they both hesitated to break the fresh lay of ice that had sprouted between them. Finally, he stammered, "You're not, right?"
A genuine smile graced Astrid's tired features. Thank God. She shook her brunette head in promise. "Of course not," she assured him gently.
A chuckle escaped Glenn's lips, and he exhaled a relieved breath. "Good," He responded. "Now, get in." He leaned over the console and propped open the passenger's side door.
With one last fleeting glance back at the city, Astrid seized the shiny handle and slid into the welcoming embrace of the leather seat. The door closed swiftly behind her, sealing her fate. She turned to Glenn, a soft nod of gratitude passing between them, an unspoken exchange forging a connection that had the potential to become a lifeline in their unsettled world. No further words were needed as Glenn pushed down on the gas, propelling the vehicle forward on its chosen path. Astrid's demons from Atlanta became a blur in the rearview mirror.
A quiet sigh of relief escaped Astrid Lancaster's lips as she settled in and inhaled deeply, rekindling the fire within her bones and heart. In the midst of the world's end, she had found someone new. No longer haunted solely by the ghost of her older brother, beckoning her to join him, she discovered a glimmer of hope. Without even fully realizing it, Astrid had been granted a reset button—a new chance.
A new beginning.
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a new beginning indeed. totally revamping this story, so meet the new and improved astrid lancaster (formerly known as aubree mcknight) everyone! i hope you enjoy this walk back down memory lane as these chapters slowly but surely start coming back out again.
and even if you're a new or returning reader, please don't forget to vote and comment! it always means a lot to me! thank you so much!