Hope

Chapter 1

Hope's legs buckled. Her lungs burned. Every nerve ending in her body screamed for her to stop, but raw instinct forced her to keep running. They were closing in and she could only imagine her fate if they caught her. I can't give up...I won't, Hope thought.

She debated dropping her backpack as she darted between the trees but decided she would need its contents...if she made it. Over the sound of her heavy breathing, Hope heard her pursuers gaining from behind — a low hum that grew louder. She glanced at the searchlights dancing above in the night sky.

In that split second before looking down again, Hope tripped. She stifled a scream as pain that felt like an electric shock shot up her leg. Motivated by fear and fueled by adrenaline, Hope tried to stand, but her ankle gave out, and she fell again to the forest floor.

Hope had only minutes before they'd be upon her. It's over; I'm finished, she thought.

Hope pushed herself up to her hands and knees and frantically started to crawl. She was about to collapse in defeat...and then it appeared. Hope rubbed the sweat and dirt from her eyes and rejoiced for a second. Summoning her last shred of willpower, Hope got to her feet. Blocking the pain from her mind, she limped forward.

The 30-second walk across the clearing felt like 30 minutes. She made it...but wasn't safe yet.

The cabin looked abandoned — or was it? Hope grabbed the railing and hopped on one leg up the wooden steps to the front door. She cautiously tested the knob — it was unlocked. Once inside, she whispered into the dark, "Hello? Is anyone here? Hello?" Silence. Hope unzipped her backpack and fumbled for her flashlight.

Knowing her time was up, Hope frantically scanned the cabin. The three rooms didn't provide many hiding spots. Under the bed? In the closet? No, too obvious, her mind raced. Then, as if the cabin wasn't miraculous enough, something on the floor caught her eye. Propped up on a small wooden block was a trap door, slightly ajar.

Hope hobbled over and opened the trap door. There was a laddered staircase leading into a dark cellar. With no time to think, she dropped her backpack into the hole, propped one knee on the top step, secured her good foot on the bottom step, and with all her strength, pulled the well-camouflaged door securely into place.

The exact moment the trap door shut; the cabin door opened. The front door actually concealed the sound of the trap door dropping. She heard a low humming sound from above, as well as heavy footsteps, moving from room to room. Searchlights shone through the floorboard gaps creating white slivers of light that moved back and forth across the cellar walls.

Hope held her breath and sat perfectly still. She knew they were listening for any movement, any sound. She closed her eyes tightly and prayed. Please, God...

After what felt like an eternity, her pursuers left the cabin as swiftly and abruptly as they had entered. Hope listened as the humming faded farther and farther away until nothing remained but dead silence. Shaking and exhausted, Hope slumped to the floor and passed out.

Chapter 2

Hope awoke suddenly. She didn't know how much time had passed and wasn't sure if it had all been a dream. But reality quickly crept back in and she remembered it was real. Hope sat up and rubbed her still throbbing ankle. It was definitely daytime as natural light flooded the cabin above and even filtered down into the hidden cellar.

Hope looked around. The underground room was more like a survival bunker than a typical cellar. Around the perimeter were floor-to-ceiling shelves. Several were bare, but two entire walls were still stocked with enough canned and dehydrated food to last for months. There were a small desk and chair in one corner and three foldable cots in the center of the room.

Who lived here? Are they coming back? Hope wondered.

While there was plenty of food, the lack of water made Hope realize how thirsty she was. She pulled a canteen from her backpack and shook it. There was maybe a sip left. She poured the few drops into her parched mouth, but it was hardly satisfying. Hope limped to the steps and listened carefully. Silence.

The trap door was heavier than Hope remembered it being when she entered the cellar. She pushed the door open with all her strength and stuck her head out like a gopher peering from a hole in the ground. It looked and sounded safe, so Hope crawled up into the cabin.

It was actually nice inside — except for the now overturned beds. Hope was amazed that there was still running water. She cupped her hands under the faucet and drank until her stomach hurt. Even the shower and toilet worked. She wondered how that was even possible.

Everything seemed safe, and Hope spent most of the day upstairs in the cabin. Several times she caught herself staring blankly into space and had to snap out of it. Perhaps it was PTSD. As evening fell, Hope wanted to play it safe so she grabbed some extra blankets from one of the bedrooms and headed back underground.

Hope sat down at the desk and lit one of several kerosene lamps. In the corner of the desk was a wooden box. Hope pulled it in front of her and removed the lid.

Chapter 3

There in the box, right on top, was a stack of money wrapped in rubber bands. Hope remembered a time when she would have been thrilled to find such a stash — back when money actually mattered. But now, it was useless. Not worth the paper it was printed on. Kindling for a fire at best.

It could have been a million dollars. It didn't matter, but Hope counted it out of curiosity anyway. It was twenty thousand dollars exactly, all in hundreds. Probably the life savings of whoever lived here, Hope thought.

Hope tossed the cash on the desk and looked to see what else was in the box. A pocket knife. An antique watch. A few old silver coins. Stuff probably passed down from generation to generation. What most caught Hope's eye was the small black notebook. It was something you would use as a journal or diary. The initials TMS were monogrammed on the black leather cover.

Hope opened up the notebook and quickly realized it was definitely a journal as she flipped through to the first page. She moved the lamp closer to more easily make out the handwriting.

March 3, 2099

My name is Thomas Sims. I have been hiding here in my father's cabin with my wife and daughter for the past three months. When the invasion started, we fled up here from the city. We sadly weren't able to contact or find our son who was in college the next town over.

All my friends called me crazy for stockpiling food and supplies. I had a feeling one day I would need it all. I never imagined it would be under these circumstances. Maybe WWIII. Maybe another global pandemic, but never this.

This was never supposed to happen in real life. This is the stuff of science fiction. Something from movies 100 years ago that grandpa used to watch. I would have believed a zombie apocalypse would happen before I'd believe this. But it's true. It happened, and reality has changed forever.

We have never actually seen the invaders, only heard them. The hum of their search vehicles gliding through the sky is a dead giveaway. You can hear them coming from miles away up here in the woods.

For the past three months, exactly 30 days apart, they have swept over this mountain from west to east and then back to the west. I can only assume they operate on a timed system and are constantly searching for any humans that have evaded capture.

Every 30 days when we hear the humming in the distance, we climb into the cellar for the night. They have been inside the cabin. We have looked up through the floorboards but only saw dark silhouettes, never making out what they really look like. Our daughter almost gave us away the first time as she gasped in fear. We were lucky that night.

Chapter 4

Hope trembled as she read — the entry taking her back to the first night she arrived at the cabin. She had all the time in the world to read the rest of the daily journal entries, so Hope skipped to the last one. She was dying to know what happened to Thomas and his family and why they weren't here. Hope started to read again.

September 1, 2099

This may be my last entry. I am leaving. My only regret is that I was too much of a coward to leave earlier. It has been two days since they took my wife Jenny and my daughter Skyler. The search vehicles came early this time. It was always exactly 30 days. For five months it was 30 days, but this time they came early.

I can never forgive myself for letting them gather berries in the woods.

I don't know if I will ever find my family or what I will discover has happened to the rest of the world. My plan is to follow the search vehicles as they sweep east down the mountain back into the city. It is more than likely I will never make it back, regardless of what I find.

I don't know if anyone will ever find this. If you are reading this journal, you are obviously a survivor. Please, help yourself to the food. You will eventually have to go out to search for more, but for now, you should have plenty...depending on who, if anyone, has come before you. If there is no running water, there is a well on the side of the cabin and an old outhouse in the back.

Unless you absolutely must go out, stay inside. Be vigilant. Don't let your guard down ever. Listen carefully for the humming every day. I don't know how many of you there are or how long you will last until you are forced to move along as I have been. Until then, no matter who you are or where you came from, I hope this place gives you a chance to rest and a chance for hope.

Hope read those last three words over and over.

She knew for sure that Thomas was never coming back, but she still wondered what ultimately happened to him, and Jenny, and Skyler, and his son — and everyone else for that matter. Maybe one day Hope would follow the search vehicles down the mountain into the city to see for herself. But for now, she was simply happy to be alive and free.

Hope picked up a pen from the desk, looked at her watch for the date, and started an entry on a fresh page of the journal.

May 3, 2100

My name is Hope Taylor...

The End