Chapter 39: Caitlyn
The screen goes black. All of us quickly rise to our feet.
“What are we going do?” Jocelyn pleads frantically to Carter. I can already hear the helicopters on the way. Jocelyn always seemed frantic about something and it’s beginning to get to me. She needed to calm down.
“We don't even know if that's real, Jo. Do you see all this official United Nation stuff lying around? How could they not be here to help? The kid seemed liked he lost it. Did you hear his laugh and that look in his eyes?” Carter started to yell as the engines and blades of the approaching helicopters drown out our voices.
“I think Carter is right. If there is a chance to go to a normal life I want it,” Sara joins in. She yells, too. I don't know who to believe. It’s too late anyway. The helicopters are landing right on the big “H” that isn’t too far away. We wouldn't get far if we were to run now.
The doors on the helicopters slam open. Men in gas masks and assault rifles jump out. They point them all at us. I think Carter was wrong.
“Get down on the ground!” They scream. All of our hands go up and we begin to lie down. Carter stays standing and walks towards the soldier. The men continue to yell, “Is anyone injured?”
“No one is hurt. We are cool man; we are just looking for help...” Carter's reply is cut short when one hits him in the stomach with the butt of his gun. Sara screams. One of the men grabs her and yells at her to shut up. She keeps screaming. He hits her across the face with his hand. She goes limp.
Before I know it, I am on top of the nearest soldier kicking and biting him. “Let her go.” I scream. Jocelyn struggles but one of the men has her two arms and is dragging her to the nearer chopper. Some blood leaks from Carter's mouth as two men carry him to the same chopper.
“Leave them alone!” Jocelyn screams. She is thrown in. Carter is hoisted in behind her and the door to the helicopter is slammed shut.
They keep trying to get hold of me. I feel light headed as the man keeps hitting my head. He finally manages to pick me up under his arm.
“Sara!” I yell as she is loaded into the other helicopter. The other one is taking off and I see Jocelyn banging on the window out at us. A gloved hand quickly covers her mouth and pulls her back.
My vision becomes blurry. I stop kicking and screaming. It isn't working anyway. They carry me to right in front of the helicopter. The one holding me and one in front of him are the only ones in front of the chopper.
How did all this happen? We were so close to safety. This meant everything to them.
Then I see my opportunity: the soldier’s knife hanging off his gear on his chest. I look up at his mask covered face, finding a seam by his neck. He seems to be ignoring me; he thinks I am out like my sister.
I grab his knife and thrust it under his mask and into his neck. He falls without a yell. As he collapses, my feet find the ground. With the knife in hand, I charge to the nearby woods at the other end of the helipad parking lot. Those men won’t be happy when they notice who I’ve killed.
As I get to the dense trees, the bark beside me splinters away and I hear the shots beneath the sound of the helicopters. The masked men are shooting at me. I keep running until I find an old, withered tree and climb behind it. The shots spread throughout the trees around me.
I peek out after a few moments go by without any gunshots. The second helicopter is taking off. They must not want me that badly.
Sara. I feel sadness sweep over me, but this is no time to cry.
I watch the helicopters flying into the sun, east. Soon they are out of sight. I come out of the forest and go to the dead soldier. His mask is now off, so I see who I killed. Maybe I should feel sadness for this, but I feel nothing. He has a cell phone clipped to his belt. I take it. I open it and it has service. What’s more, it has a full battery. Somehow I feel lucky at this moment.
I walk to the car, grabbing my backpack with my bow and arrows. The helicopters did not take long to get here after we called. They cannot be too far. I look up at the rising sun and tuck the soldier's knife into my backpack.
Swinging my gear over my shoulders, I run into the forest. I have killed four people in the last several hours – not bad for a twelve year old. I will kill as many as it takes to get my family back– especially to get Sara back.
End of Book I
Thank You
Both of us appreciate your time and hope you enjoyed book I of the Humanity Gone Saga. “After the Plague” is an accumulation of original and “borrowed” ideas from throughout my life. Over a year ago, I started a rough outline of the story on a piece of sketch paper. It was partially inspired by O.T. Nelson's The Girl Who Owned a City, a book I read way back in middle school. A world without supervision always held a certain appeal to me. However, in his book the magic age was 12. I wanted to up the ante and incorporate young adults. Young children can be mean, but young adults could be barbaric.
The concept of shifting perspectives stems from several sources. In my mind, I wanted something between K.A. Applegate's Animorphs series, and George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series. That could be the first time those two works have ever been compared. The presentation was also meant to be cinematic in a sense by relying on dramatic irony in key moments across the story.
Originally this started as a solo project for the first several months until I realized that I needed help as it grew into a real pandemic of sorts. I enlisted Dean to help with editing, but soon found him to have invaluable ideas of his own that have been incorporated throughout the work.
After the initial manuscript was finished, we bounced drafts back and forth. I was lucky to even have author Jay Wilburn add his two cents at the revision stage, and I thank him for his thorough critical response.
As I write this, Dean is doing a hunt for typos and grammar errors. He texts me that he is exhausted. I am too. We have managed to pass it back and forth several times already, but somehow the occasional homonym or a Dickinson-like use of a dash rears its ugly head. My birthday (and speaking of Emily Dickinson- hers as well) is in a half hour and I hope to have sent it sometime tomorrow for finalizing. However, I know I will not let it go until I give it one last read through.
I guess this is why God made publishing companies.
Yet, we stuck it to the “publishing man” and made this product that we are both very proud of accomplishing, and I hope you join us on our next adventure.
Book II is in the works. The plague is in the past; now it's time to see who takes control. Thanks again.
Derek Deremer
12/9/2012