Still & Silent Earth

Still & Silent Earth

By: Chanteyl LeJoie

I heard the rustle outside and immediately I knew they were there. Had they found me? Or was this just a general search and they’d happened upon my hiding place? I wasn’t sure, but I held my breath and waited, still listening to determine which direction they were headed in. The earth was dark these days; no streetlights, no real stars, and you hardly ever saw the moon anymore. There was no more noise anymore either. They’d cleared out the bugs—trying to kill the pests—it actually started with the bees. Slowly but surely our ecosystem deteriorated, until now there was no noise of crickets in the evening or birds in the early morning. The food chain was destroyed, and now there were only us. I say us, but I was not one of those people out there. Those people had formed gangs, factions, and entire new governments. There were wars and everyone lost someone; most lost everyone. My parents were young and fit, so when the draft was called my parents were both called up, and they dropped me and my baby sister off with our grandmother who we hadn’t seen much of in most of our young lives. She wasn’t a traditional grandmotherly grandma; she was cool and young in her own mind, and never had time for knitting, cooking, or storytelling. You know, grandma stuff. She didn’t exactly want two small children either, but times were changing drastically. Even so, I remember eavesdropping on the conversation and having heard my mother beg my father to talk to her, and in turn he had to beg his mother to keep us. Options were limited, or, better yet, nonexistent. Begrudgingly she kept us, fed and clothed us, and in her own way she prepared us for the world we were now living in. I’ll never know how she knew so much about what would happen. She was so paranoid, but now I appreciate her for it. Because now I’m hiding out in the trunk of an old, rusty sedan, listening for what—or who—made that rustling sound just outside. What did they even rustle against? This was an old salvage yard full of rusted out vehicles. The cars stopped running once they tapped out all of the fossil fuels, and everyone seemed surprised when the power grid failed. It started with bombings and hackings, until eventually it was too far gone for repair, and we were all left in a world of darkness. My grandma wasn’t surprised. She’d been telling us it would happen all along and giving us tips and lessons on how to navigate and use the dark to our advantage. That was a good thing, because there was nearly only darkness and painfully long nights that were teamed up with sweltering days that were hot, and too bright to see in. The sun was not your friend, it was your mortal enemy. Many people learned the hard way what solar radiation was, and how quickly heatstroke can occur and claim a life. It wasn’t worth it to even try and venture out during the day. There was no grass, no trees, no bugs, no dogs. Nothing made noise anymore except for potential enemies. All that remained were variations of what used to be human beings who were now left to their own devices to figure out how to run things. We, as a species, were not doing well at all.

“Did you hear that?”

How was Joey always a step behind me? If it were left up to him, we’d both be dead by now, or worse, captured. Joey was a mysterious character. I couldn’t see him well enough to make many determinations about him except that he had long, dark hair, and a thin frame. He also had a light voice. Part of me wondered if I was right in picturing Joey as a ‘he’ at all, but I never addressed him with any pronouns—that was saved for my internal monologue because I could not afford to offend Joey. I also couldn’t afford to fully trust him. In this world where everything was out to kill you, you hoarded your trust like you hoarded the oxygen scrubbers. Mine was patched up and all but homemade—a parting gift from the grandmother who’d raised me.

“Yeah,” I replied as silently as I could. We were sharing this trunk, so he was close enough that we really didn’t have to speak out loud. That was another survival tactic. We needed one another and I hated that I needed anyone, but I’d had to admit to myself that there was no way I would get anywhere without some sort of help. I hated asking for help nearly as much as I hated admitting that I needed it. It was the heat of the day, and I’d been lying still, having been asleep before the quiet noise caused me to stir, and in a pool of my own sweat that caused me to stick to the itchy, mildewing fabric of the trunk. I was exhausted, and trying to use my scrubber sparingly, and I could not figure out who was crazy or driven enough to be marching around in the open like whoever this rustler was. That was almost certainly a death sentence.

“You want me to look?” Joey asked. He was close to my ear, and it made me uncomfortable. It wasn’t just because the trunk was hot and sticky, but I really did not like this individual and there was something very sinister about him that I could not place my finger on. I had to suck it up, and I nodded, shifting some so Joey could climb over me to look through the keyhole and report back.

“There’s five of them,” Joey said into my ear. Once again, he did not need to be so close.

“Militant?” I asked.

“Can’t tell.”

I could probably tell if I’d looked. This was another example of Joey proving how little he actually brought into this survival team we’d formed, and yet there was nothing I could do about it. I took another draw out of my scrubber and moved to the back of the trunk, giving Joey the best seat for a chance at survival. It was a position I was hesitant to relinquish, but we needed to keep track of who that was marching around and make sure they were not looking for—or at risk of finding—us. I couldn’t be found right now. I was on a mission, and I had to make a lot of compromises in order to keep venturing forward, and one of the biggest was sharing with and depending on Joey to keep us alive.

It was more of the deadening silence that we’d all come to expect for what seemed an eternity. This was supposed to be time when we could sleep so we’d be rested to press on through the night, so this interruption was going to affect our timeline overall. Joey hadn’t said much else, and I wasn’t even sure he wasn’t asleep when he was supposed to be keeping watch, and I’d opened my mouth to address the issue when we heard a loud, metallic bang that made us both jump. Joey wasn’t asleep now I bet.

“They’re banging on the cars,” Joey said frantically, as the noise started to become more rapid and chaotic. “They’ve split up and they are banging on the cars!”

“Calm down,” I reminded him. The last thing we needed right now was to lose our heads, that’s how people make dumb mistakes and die! Why didn’t Joey know this by now?

“We gotta run,” he urged.

“That’s a death sentence and you know it. What type of gear do they have on?”

“Uh,” Joey panted, and I assumed he was once again looking through the keyhole. “I don’t know, they have long sleeves and pants on, and goggles and hats.

“Do they seem organized?”

“Maybe, I don’t know.”

I could hear Joey hyperventilating and reminded him to use his scrubber. We had no chance of surviving this if he panicked and gave away our position. This is the first time we’d been in such a situation where we were literal sitting ducks, and as I worked to help my traveling partner contain their emotions, I realized how young Joey may have been, and why some of the decisions that he made were so foolish. I also recognized that that may have been why his features weren’t obviously masculine. Was this some kid that I’d been leading across the country for a year and a half? If he was that much younger than me then where were his parents? Also, if he’d been on his own up until I found him that would explain why there was a slyness to him, because no one could make it this far without being a little sinister. Even so I couldn’t let my guard down, because I could not afford to lose my sister. Not again.

“You’re going to go stay with Gigi for a little while,” my dad explained, kneeling before me, and smiling to try and hide the fear and hurt in his eyes. I was young, not blind. Not yet at least.

“Just me?” I asked him.

“No,” he chuckled, “we need you to look after sissy too, okay? Do you think you can do that?” His eyes were bright blue, a stark contrast to his caramel toned skin and his stringy brown hair. He still smiled at me, and he was holding on to my hands which were completely enveloped by his that were rough and calloused from years of construction work that he did to ‘take care of his girls’.

“Okay daddy,” I nodded dutifully. “Can I have a sucker when you come back?” That broke him and I saw it, “what’s wrong, daddy?” I frowned.

“No—nothing princess,” He assured me with a squeeze of the hands. “And you don’t have to wait for a sucker.” He reached into his pocket and presented me with a red lollipop. My favorite color, and for my five-year-old self, all was right in the world. Except it wasn’t. Unbeknownst to me, nothing was right in the world, and nothing would ever be again. But for that moment, I had my daddy, and my cherry flavored lollipop, and for me that was everything. My baby sister was only one and a half, so I bet everything felt right in her world too. I saw the bag that my parents were filling of clothing and toys for us, as well as their pictures, and a few small mementos, and as I look back now, I realize that they wanted to make sure we didn’t forget them. I never did. My dad carried me and the bag up the five flights of steps to Gigi’s apartment, and then he and her went out to the hallway and that’s when I heard them fussing. Even though my mother was sitting on the floor with me in her lap and she turned up the volume on the cartoons as she was braiding my hair—I still heard them fussing, and I heard him begging his own mother to keep us, telling her that there were no other options. My mother hugged me tightly, and I looked at her. She was clearly trying to hide her emotions from me, but the tears fell anyway.

“You sad, mommy?” I asked her.

“I’m just going to miss you and your sister so much!” she smiled. Her teeth were beautifully white and straight, and she had dimples on each side of her big smile that dug deep into her dark brown skin. She was the color of coffee before any creamer was added, with the warmth to match, and her complexion was smooth and soft just like her. She had a melodic voice that soothed me, and she often would hum me to sleep. That voice is how she contributed financially to the family as well, being a lounge singer that usually left for work a few hours after my dad came home from his job. Up until then, I’d never been away from both of my parents because they were always there. After that day, however, they were never around again.

Gigi wasn’t much for hugging, or kissing, or even cooking, and it was clear that she struggled with handling my sister and me. When she wasn’t ranting about it being the end times, she was drinking and smoking, and would leave me responsible for my sister while she disappeared for hours a day. We had access to food; mostly pudding and casseroles, and I wasn’t sure who was cooking it because I never saw too much of Gigi in her kitchen, but we certainly weren’t hungry. As things were failing all around us, Gigi was home or near home more often. My sister was growing into a toddler, and Gigi would sit us down and tell us things that didn’t make much sense to me then, but she made me repeat until she was sure I wouldn’t forget. Such things as “look after your sister at all costs,” and “don’t trust anyone who says they want to help you.” I can hear her voice to this day, and I replay it often as I am making decisions on which steps to take from one fleeting moment to the next.

As years went by and with my sister and I growing, Gigi eventually moved us from the apartment. It was hurried and during the night, and she’d packed little to nothing—mostly food—in a few small bags. I carried my sister on my back hoping that would help us keep up with Gigi better. It didn’t. We raced through the streets and down alleyways, and at some point, someone grabbed me, and I yelled out. I think they were intent on grabbing my sister initially, but I wasn’t letting go of her. I couldn’t even see Gigi anymore, and didn’t know what I was going to do, so I kept yelling and crying until suddenly Gigi appeared with a metal pipe that she swung into the darkness and over my head. I didn’t see what she hit, but I heard the pipe make contact and then me and my sister were free from the clutches of the unseen attacker. “Let’s go!” she hissed, taking a firm, painful grip of my arm and yanking me along. My little legs couldn’t keep up, but I tried to force them. I also told my sister to hold on tight. My legs failed on several occasions, and each time Gigi would snatch me up and continue pulling me along. By the time we reached the group of people who were clearly waiting near the small, abandoned gas station, my legs and hands were scratched and bloody, and I was out of breath.

“Here child,” Gigi muttered, handing me the oxygen scrubber before greeting her associates. I’d never used one before, and I had to figure it out now, but I pressed the mask portion to my face and took a deep breath. It worked. My lungs had never known very clean air other than what was pumped into buildings. I pressed the mask to my sisters face as well and watched her breathing with it. I saw Gigi talking to a burly, bearded man who had on a red trucker’s cap. He waved his arms wildly so apparently whatever it was they were discussing was distressing to him, but I just sat in the corner with my sister and poked at my wounds. I didn’t want to eavesdrop. I wanted to cry, and I wanted my daddy to hold me while my mother sang. “Let’s go,” Gigi appeared before me to my surprise, and I saw the sun was coming up. We’d spent the night in a dusty, deteriorating gas station. My sister was stretched out beside me with her head on my leg and I shook her awake so we could run out to catch up to Gigi, who was already headed out the door. There were easily a dozen people with us, but we were the only children. I now realize that that was what Gigi’s argument was about. This trek was not an easy one, and I imagine it was not meant for children. I struggled to keep up, mostly because although Gigi was at the back of the group, it did not appear that she had any interest in waiting for us to keep up. We traveled by night and found shade for resting during the day. There were food rations, and by the time it got to my sister and I, we were sharing half a cracker on most days. After about four days of travel Gigi brought us a slice of dehydrated apple apiece. I knew this was from her personal stash, and she likely wasn’t trying to share it with everyone. That’s when it dawned on me that Gigi really did care about our survival.

It was two weeks later when we reached the countryside with fields full of dead crops and trees, and the group we’d been traveling with started breaking up. Gigi was where she wanted to be, and she led us to a roughly made shed that was stacked high with bales of hay. “This is home now,” she told us, having had us sit atop one of the haybales. The hay was our beds, couch, seats—it served many purposes, including food when we really needed it to be. Hay tastes exactly how you expect it to, dry and crunchy. Apparently, Gigi knew this place, though, because there was a stockpile of canned goods in the floor of the barn as well as guns, ammo, and knives. “Everything we need” she’d said. It wasn’t everything we needed, but she made it work and stretched it and our lessons out so we’d be prepared for what was to come. She had to use the guns on people a few times. Lost and lonely travelers thinking they’d found a place of refuge or an easy mark. Gigi was a tough cookie. She got us through to adolescence until one day she pulled me aside and told me she was going. She wouldn’t answer any questions, and I begged her to stay, but it was to no avail. Although I stayed up for days watching her, and prepared to try and stop her, eventually I did fall asleep one morning, and when I awakened that evening, she was gone. To my best calculations, I was twelve and my sister was nine, and now it was on me to keep us alive.

“If they bang on the trunk we can’t react,” I warned Joey quietly, having turned my head to his direction and assuming his ear was there. “Do you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Joey replied fretfully.

“Just breathe—use your scrubber if you need to. We’ll react when and if we need to, otherwise we will stay still and quiet and let them pass.” I didn’t think I was what they were looking for, but I could never be sure. I’d crossed various groups of people trying to find my sister, and I’d made some enemies. I would hate for Joey to die or be captured because of me, but I would sacrifice him sooner than I would myself.

The rapping continued outside of our hideout forever, and I heard Joey drawing rapidly from his breather. I nudged him hard in the ribs to tell him to relax. If I could hear him breathing, then so could the rustlers outside if they stopped for a moment to listen. I was mostly holding my breath and waiting for the loud crash of metal hitting metal that I knew was coming once they reached our car and beat on the trunk and sides. And there it was.

I watched our food supply, waiting to determine when the right time to leave our new home was. I wanted to be as careful as possible, and give my sister the best chance at survival, especially during the harsh journey. Thankfully, we hadn’t been met with other travelers since Gigi left, and we’d found her gifts to us; two oxygen scrubbers made from scavenged and recycled materials, and an extravagantly ornate heart-shaped locket. It was silver with a darker bronze design that was raised off of the surface and wrapped around it like vines. I felt it in my hands, appreciating the grooves and picking at them with my fingernail. When I opened it and saw pictures of my parents and us inside, and I realized that Gigi did care, in her own special way. She didn’t want us to forget our parents either.

I fashioned two backpacks, and loaded them with food and supplies, as well as a stash of hay in the coats Gigi had made for us. They would provide insulation during the upcoming icy season as well as much needed food on the go. We had a journey ahead of us, and I did not know where exactly we were headed, but our supplies were running out here, so I knew we needed to go and at least search for more. I had a knife in each handmade boot, as well as one in a pocket I’d sewn into my coat. I carried the rifle and gave my sister the shotgun, as well as giving her two knives for her to conceal—she chose her sleaves. I smile remembering how tough she thought she was and had proven to be. Canned goods were a necessary evil, and I split the bounty between the two of us. Better than that there were freeze dried fruits and meats, and that was something that was invaluable in these times. Even if we didn’t eat them ourselves, we’d be able to barter with them. We used the rest of the space in our sacks for ammunition for the guns, as much as we could carry, and then we stored anything left or extra back in the floor, and I spread some hay around to disguise the entrance. My hope was that there was someplace better out there. Someplace where my sister and I could thrive and grow. Someplace we could do more than survive; someplace we could live.

That is not what we found.

I grabbed Joey as we endured the calamity that surrounded us. I was willing to sacrifice him, yes, but I couldn’t afford for him to give away our position right now. He was sweating and trembling, and I tightened my grip putting my arm around his shoulder and holding his scrubber over his mouth. He needed to calm down because what I suspected, which was confirmed moments later, was the noise on our trunk ending and the next sounds we heard being in the distance. I released Joey and wiped my hands on my pants. I was sweaty enough; I didn’t need his sweat on me as well. What I wasn’t expecting to hear next was the blood curling screams. Apparently, we weren’t the only ones hiding in old cars. I knew Joey was likely watching, but I also knew what was happening. Those rustlers would chase those people down and take whatever they wanted by force. If they wanted the people, then they would take them too. Whoever they didn’t want, or whoever didn’t have enough to offer them in exchange for their lives would lose said life. No sooner had I thought it I heard the familiar ‘pop-pop’ of an automatic weapon, and Joey gasped. He needed to shut up unless he wanted to be next, and I reached over immediately and cupped my hand across his mouth to remind him as much. When his breathing slowed and he tapped my arm I released him, and I was wiping my hand again when he cursed.

“Shut up!” I hissed.

“They’re burning the cars!”

Now I knew who these people were. They were not truly militant, but they were chaotically organized. They had a mission and that was to destroy all that was around them. I called them the Destroyers, and they were the far end of the spectrum of factions that had formed once the world stopped spinning. Destroyers believed that humankind was due to fall, and they were determined to make it so by going around and killing everyone they came across. That was the entire plan. They preached that we’d angered God or gods, and that’s why we were cursed with hell on earth, but if we all just died then everything would be better. They had a surprisingly large following. On the opposite end of the spectrum were the Pollinators. They believed that life should be sustained at all costs, and they were trying to regrow plants and trees all over, as well as providing help and medical aid to those they’d encounter during their crusades.

I crossed the Destroyers and the Pollinators when I initially lost my sister.

We came across a group of Destroyers on the verge of a what they were calling a reckoning or a culling. They’d recruited a large number of believers and given them all spiked beverages that would allow them passage into the afterlife. It was my own fault for not being more careful, but we got caught, and they caged us. They preached to us for days, telling us that it was too late to fight for survival and that we were only delaying the inevitable. It was an attempt at brainwashing, and I was terrified that my sister wouldn’t be able to hold out like I was. I was right. Before I knew it, I’d been bashed in the head and left bleeding out in the middle of the street as the sun rose and began baking me. I gained consciousness momentarily, just long enough to recognize that I had no strength to protect myself from the sun’s lethal rays, so I steeled myself to die, silently apologizing to my parents and Gigi for failing to keep my sister safe. Come nightfall, however, a group of Pollinators found me, and took me to their lair. I knew this when I woke up several days later covered in something sticky, and hearing voices all around me. I had something covering my eyes as well and all I could make out whenever I tried to open them was brightness all around me.

“You’re awake!” a lady’s voice said. She sounded nice enough, and older. I heard her calling out to the others.

“Where’s my sister? Let me go!” I demanded, trying to escape the substance that weighed me down.

“We aren’t holding you against your will. We are just trying to help,” she replied with a smooth, sultry tone. “You’ve had a very rough few days, haven’t you?” She was stroking my hair back and I hated it. Don’t try and mother me, stranger.

“What’s all over me? Why can’t I see?” I still fought.

“Calm down and we’ll get you cleaned up and dressed,” this was a man’s voice and it caught me by surprise. “It’s honey to heal your sunburn. I also suspect your retinas have been burned, so you’re very likely blind now, young lady. We will get you ready, but you won’t be able to survive out there on your own.”

What did he know? He didn’t know me! “I’ll be fine,” I growled, and true to their word, I began feeling a number of hands peeling something away from me. That was why I was so heavily weighted, it was wet cloths that they’d laid over top of me, but why? Sunburn he said. And the sun even destroyed my eyesight?! I didn’t want to believe them, but someone was wiping my eyes as well and when I opened them, I still saw nothing but brightness, but I could make out the shadows of about half a dozen people standing around me. The woman told everyone to leave as I lifted my hands to cover my chest. I felt a pain over my left breast and touched it, feeling some sort of textured scar there that was still very sticky, although I could not make out whether that was from blood or from the honey I’d been covered in.

“I’m going to lead you to the tub; there’s water in it already, but you’ll have to accept my help.”

I didn’t want any help and sat up. I was intent on standing as well, but instead, I became extremely dizzy suddenly as it seemed like the room was spinning. I felt a hand on my shoulder which steadied me, and she quietly told me to relax. This was the first time I had to swallow my pride and accept help. I needed clothes and I couldn’t keep this sticky stuff they called honey all over me, it felt disgusting. She helped sponge me clean and indicated the wound I’d found on my chest. “Did you have something? Some sort of heart-shaped necklace?” she asked me.

“My locket!” I gasped, “where are my things?”

“There was no locket. We found your knives and your ammo, and all your food is accounted for, but there was no jewelry. It’s burned into your flesh pretty good though. Back in my day we’d call that a tattoo. I’d suggest a bit of honey and a covering for it for at least a few more days so it doesn’t get infected.”

I listened to all she had to say about me and about the Pollinators and their mission to save the world. She even told me what honey was. Apparently before all the bees were gone, they’d make a bunch of this stuff and people just took it for granted. Now people were trying to manufacture it, but it wasn’t the same. According to Daisy, my caretaker, the stuff they’d slathered me in was the real deal, something that the Pollinators had managed to stockpile from before, and she said it had healing properties. All I knew so far was that it was sticky and hard to wash off. Daisy also introduced me to beeswax, and she put it in my hair, claiming it would help my dreadlocks. Apparently, mine was a popular style amongst the Pollinators. All I knew was that these braids were the last time my mother did my hair, so keeping them in kept her close to me. I appreciate Daisy trying to make me presentable, but as far as I was concerned, I was headed out into the world to find my sister and to take out anyone who tried to stand in my way. I didn’t need to be presentable for that.

“We’ve got to make a run for it,” I told Joey. “You need to prepare yourself.”

“What? We can’t!” Joey argued.

“If you’d rather burn in this car then that’s your choice,” I told him, putting my goggles on, and pulling a hood over my head. “I’m not going out like that.”

“I’m…scared.”

“Everybody’s scared. That doesn’t stop the work that needs to be done. I’ve got to find my sister, not wait here to die.” I pulled my bag onto my shoulders and started feeling the back wall of the trunk. I knew that some old cars had trunks that opened into the backseat. Gigi had told me that when telling me that these cars were a good place to hide and rest. Of course, she had no way of knowing that I’d literally be blindly looking for such a latch or button, or—wait. Found it. “Are you ready to run?” I asked Joey.

“Okay,” he said, out of breath.

We turned and kicked the seat. Time and rust had caused it to stick, so we kicked several times with all our strength, until finally, it folded over enough for us to wriggle through. I needed Joey to be focused because I needed him to be my eyes. If we got caught, we were as good as dead—the Destroyers wouldn’t fail to take me out a third time. I wasn’t that lucky. I stayed low to the seat, some upturned, jagged piece of rusted metal cut my hand, but I choked back my whimper in my throat and balled the hand into a fist. It was bleeding a lot, but as far as I was concerned, that was the least of my worries.

“Out the window,” I told Joey. I knew the windows were likely long gone, and I heard him mumble a breathy agreement. I held my breath as I waited, and finally, I heard him mutter, “now!” and I reached out to hold his bag as he jumped out of the window so I could follow stealthily. Now, we run. We run for our lives, and I listen to him and hold on to his bag. I’m not getting left behind, but I cannot make out the cars to dodge them, so I need Joey to lead me, and he did. I heard gunfire and yelling and knew we were being pursued, so I ducked my head and ran harder. I stumbled across some rocks, holes, and uneven ground, but I told Joey to keep going. We had to get away, and we were. That’s what I thought. I had no way of knowing if Joey was leading me straight into a trap, or if he was a Destroyer, or even if we were going in the right direction. I also didn’t know that right now, my biggest issue wasn’t Joey, but the trail of blood I was leaving behind as we tried to find safety. It was the furthest thing from my mind—the injury, the pain, the blood. But the head Destroyer had already told his followers to stop chasing us because they would track us down easily enough. I didn’t know it, but in this moment, I was a bigger risk to Joey’s life than he was to mine.