Decay: Civilization Part 1

Decay: Civilization.

Linus Locke.

Acknowledgments.

I would like to thank my wife, Kortnie. Without your support, this novel would have never been finished.

A very special thank you goes to my amazing children for always making me smile and giving me a reason to never grow up. Your strength astonishes me every day.

Thanks to my parents and grandparents. All of your hard work has made me the person I am today.

A special thanks to my beta readers, Genia and Josh. Your time and input is priceless.

Cover created by: Khonsu at SelfPubBookCovers.com/Khonsu.

Chapter 1.

The nightmares had been haunting Jonathan Sawyer's dreams for the past few weeks. He tried to fight the sleep at first, but knew that he needed to rest. Keeping his strength up and his mind sharp were more important now than ever before. Regardless of the fear, the restlessness, and the guilt, he slept.

He opened his eyes knowing deep down that this was all a dream, yet he couldn't convince his mind that what he was experiencing wasn't real. Jonathan had no control over what was happening. His only choice was to accept the terror of what he would witness. He knew from experience that if he fought he would certainly awake tired and sore from the tossing and turning.

Jonathan Sawyer stood in this dream world, frightened and slightly dazed. He gazed out at his father, Brian, as the man made his way down the long driveway. He was a tall, thin man, and his long legs carried him quickly toward a blue Dodge Magnum. Inside were a woman with long black hair and her two children who could barely be seen from the back seat. They were too far away to make out much more detail than that. The car had been hit in the front end and pushed off the road. Smoke rose from under the hood.

Jonathan felt the horror before seeing it. Men and women came from every direction to surround the car, and they tried violently to get in. They seemed to be angry with the woman, and their pale skin made them look as if they were sick. Their fists smashed into the windows until they were b.l.o.o.d.y. The woman and her children screamed in terror as the group of attackers tried to make their way in. Jonathan, however, could not hear their screams. The world was totally void of sound.

His father turned to him and began to yell. Brian was down to the end of the driveway, so Jonathan could only just make out the movement of his lips, but there was no sound to be heard. Brian waved his long arms frantically, signaling Jonathan to go back in the house where he would be safe.

Jonathan knew that he should listen to his father, yet the urge to disobey surged through him. He ran down the driveway to help his father, but then the sky transformed from the bright and sunny blue day to that of an apocalyptic red. The color washed down over the blue like wet paint spilled down a canvas. The sun melted and ran wax-like down the sky. Lightning streaked to the ground in bolts of green that lit up the world with brilliant flashes.

The asphalt under his feet became sticky as it heated up, making it hard to move. He tried to lift his legs and run to his father. He wanted nothing more than to bring him back safely, but his legs quickly tired. Jonathan's wrists began to itch wildly, and scratching them only made it worse, yet he scratched uncontrollably. The itching was followed by a sudden sharp pain. His wrists reddened and swelled until the skin tore open, revealing shackles made of bone.

The pain caused him to drop to his knees and he screamed a silent scream. As Jonathan examined the bone shackles he noticed the b.l.o.o.d.y chains that ran from them. Each link was made of rough bone. Strips of flesh hung from the bone chain. His gaze followed the chains back into the garage where a demonic looking reel sat. At the reel's hand crank stood a tall figure that Jonathan could not make out clearly. He knew that he would soon be all too close.

The figure began turning the large crank. The reel clicked loudly as the pin dropped into each tooth of the gear, breaking the silence of the world. With each click the chain pulled tighter and tighter. Jonathan stood and pulled with all of his strength. He clawed at the shackles violently, but he couldn't free himself from their tight grasp. Panic took over as he began to slide up the driveway toward the ominous looking garage door.

He dropped back down to his hands and knees and tried to dig in. The click... click... click of the reel was no longer the only sound in the dream world. The sound of Jonathan's fingernails sc.r.a.pping across the asphalt screeched into existence. Unfortunately there was nothing to grip on the smooth asphalt. Jonathan thought of his father and knew he could beat this. It was all a dream, and no dream would overpower his brilliant mind. He could free himself from these evil chains and save his father. Fighting against the pull with every ounce of strength he could muster, Jonathan was still unable to counter the force.

As his feet crossed into the garage, the slick floor caused him to lose traction, and he fell to his stomach. Turning to his back, Jonathan looked up at the figure. With his eyes adjusting to the dark garage, he could see the creature perfectly. It could have been human, however, the shredded clothing it wore revealed the flesh that was rotting from its thin body, and everything from above the bottom jaw was missing from its head.

The tattered clothing was wet with blood. Its tongue flopped and danced grotesquely at the top of what was left of the monster's head. Boney hands wrapped around the crank with skin so thin it kept tearing. Thick maroon blood oozed from the openings, sticking to the floor in Jell-O like globs.

After fully taking in the gruesome sight, Jonathan let out another terrified, silent scream. Each click of the crank sounded louder than the last. One last time he rolled onto his stomach and began to pull against the chains. He released another scream as the red world outside of the garage faded behind the closing garage door.

Before being consumed by the blackness, Jonathan screamed one last time for his father.

The scream shattered the silence, as it always had as this dream came to an end, causing Jonathan to sit up. The tears were warm on his face, and his sheets were wet with cold sweat. The scream that had awoken him was his own. The only thing he was thankful for was that the nightmares seemed to be taking up more and more of the night.

Jonathan looked around his room as his eyes adjusted to the morning light s.h.i.+ning in through the skylight. The thick curtains didn't let in any light. Jonathan's father hated the thought of people looking into their house even though it sat too far away from the road for anyone to be able to see anything, so each window was covered with a similarly thick curtain. Jonathan thought his father wasn't far from painting the windows black. But the house sat back quite far in the yard, and if the distance didn't stop people from seeing in then the high wall would. Every house in this part of town had a wall, but none quite this high.

The posters on the walls of Jonathan's room were of various super heroes and cars. His action figures were on shelves neatly reenacting scenes from his favorite comics. The periodic table of elements hung on the wall while a model of several cellular structures dangled from the ceiling. He knew that he was a nerd in every sense. Climbing out of his small bed, he pulled the blankets and sheets off the mattress. Jonathan rolled them up into a ball and carried them out of his room.

There were four doors besides Jonathan's in the long tan hallway. His Brother Michael's room was directly across the hall from his room. To the right of Jonathan's room was a closet at the end of the hall. Jonathan opened this closet door and dropped his balled up bedding down the laundry chute. As he walked toward the other end of the hall he pa.s.sed by the bathroom to his right, and his parent's bedroom on the left.

The open floor plan of the house kept the living area lit by the skylights. None of the lights in the house needed to be turned on during the day, the beautiful California sun made sure of that. A large sofa, along with matching chairs, a coffee table, and a fireplace made up the main sitting area in the family room. On the other side of the room sat another couch facing a large flat screen Sony HDTV. Jonathan moved through this room on his way to the kitchen to make himself breakfast.

After breakfast he showered. Wrapping himself in the towel, Jonathan stood before the vanity and wiped the condensation off of the mirror. He was about five and a half feet tall with a little more growing to do. His hair was a dark brown that matched his brown eyes. There was a hint of facial hair coming in on his smooth face above his upper lip and in a darkening patch of peach fuzz on his chin. Something he was proud of. He didn't care so much for a mustache, but he couldn't wait for his beard to grow in.

Jonathan walked downstairs to start his bedding in the laundry. The bas.e.m.e.nt was lined with shelves full of canned food and bottled water. The skylight ran through the walls of the house allowing light down into the bas.e.m.e.nt as well. There is also a small greenhouse where various vegetables and herbs grew. Jonathan's father, Brian, started preparing for the collapse of civilization two years ago, and in that time he had acquired enough food and water to feed his family for what he estimated to be about twenty years.

Brian also put his wife, Kathy, and their two sons, Michael and Jonathan, through various survival courses. They were trained in everything from basic wilderness survival to hand-to-hand combat. Jonathan had the most fun learning how to shoot. The family spent several hours each month at a shooting range in the hills outside of town. Unfortunately, Jonathan was only allowed to fire the small caliber pistols and rifles, but he became a very proficient shooter and was confident in his abilities to shoot the larger firearms.

Neither Jonathan nor Michael cared much for the hand-to-hand combat training. "Every problem can be solved with the mind. Anybody that is not smart enough to reason with is not worth your time." Brian had told them that many times before deciding that they would learn to fight just in case. Both of the boys took to the idea of not wasting their time on people who couldn't be reasoned with, but Brian was set on them learning.

Jonathan made his way back upstairs and checked the time. It was only seven o'clock in the morning, yet he was used to being awake early these days. As he walked down the hall toward his bedroom he stopped in front of his parent's door. Maybe he would go in and check today. He often felt like going in to check in the mornings. His parents usually woke up around eight o'clock. Deciding not to go in, he walked back into his own room to play some video games.

His parents wouldn't be in their bed anyway. He knew they wouldn't even be in the room. They were gone. His mother and brother went to visit his aunt in Iowa. Jonathan hadn't heard from them in three weeks. A week after they left his father went to help a woman and her children. They had been in an accident. Brian had seen that they needed help, so he opened the large gate leading off the property and ran out to them. Only the attackers had made it to them first. Realizing that he wouldn't make it back through the gate, Brian yelled to Jonathan to close it and run inside.

Jonathan was scared, and he did what his father had told him without question. Not running out to help his father was the worst mistake he has ever made. He hasn't seen his father since, and he doesn't know if he is coming back, nor does he know if he is even alive. Jonathan did know that he had been destroyed by the guilt of running away. So much so that the guilt and fear had manifested into a physical form that haunted his dreams.

The attack came from out of nowhere. Jonathan still isn't sure who attacked or why. They did not resemble soldiers from any army. He was sure he had actually recognized a few of them from around town. This made him wonder if this attack was planned out years ago, and whoever they were had spies placed in communities all across America. These terrorists created and lived lives that were not theirs just so they could attack at the right time.

He didn't even know if they were still attacking, but he remembered that day well. Reliving it in his mind grew exhausting, but he kept doing it in hopes that he would pick up something that he missed before. Nothing ever seemed to stand out. His father talked from the time he picked him up from school until they made it home, but Jonathan hasn't been able to sort all of it out.

Jonathan threw himself on his bed and stared at the structures hanging from his ceiling. He reached over and picked up a plastic model of the human brain that he had ordered from a science magazine. Opening it up, he removed the hippocampus and held it up. He thought that holding the part of the brain that controlled memory would help him remember. He focused on the day of the attack.

His earliest memory of that day is sitting in the Clay Hills High School cla.s.sroom of Mrs. Johnson, a pleasant woman who truly enjoyed working with the students. Her hair was slightly graying, and she wore wire framed gla.s.ses. She sat at her desk in the corner of the room. A copy of Jules Verne's' Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea in her hands. Jonathan was working on an English paper that she had a.s.signed the day before.

The phone rang on the wall, causing the sounds of pencils scratching on paper to halt, and all the students looked up from their work successfully distracted. Mrs. Johnson sat the book down and turned toward the wall as she answered the phone in an attempt to remain as quite as possibly in hopes of the students returning to work without much fidgeting, so Jonathan was unable to hear her end of the conversation.

After hanging up the phone, she made her way to Jonathan's seat. "Your father is waiting in the lobby to pick you up early today. Go ahead and put your things away and I'll see you when you return. The paper is due next Monday, so you have plenty of time to work on it," she said with a kind smile that made the skin on the outside of her eyes wrinkle. She heard of Jonathan's Aunt and a.s.sumed this must be the reason for his father picking him up.

"Thank you. I will have it finished as soon as I return," Jonathan replied with a crooked smile.

"Sure thing, I'll see you then. I hope everything is fine."

Brian was standing impatiently as Jonathan made his way into the lobby. Even at the time Jonathan found this to be odd, as his father was as patient as he was confident. His father still greeted him with a pleasant smile and asked him about his day as he rushed him to the car. Jonathan noticed that his father's hands had been bandaged, and he looked like he had been through h.e.l.l.

Engulfed in the comfort of the pa.s.senger seat of his father's carbon black BMW 740i sedan, Jonathan tried to make some sense out of what his father was saying. Jonathan was very bright for a fifteen year old, but he couldn't keep up with the things his father spoke about. He rambled on as if he'd gone completely mad. His father spoke of cellular regrowth and regeneration, the impact it would have had on the world if done right, and how it all went wrong.

"We should not have tried to go against nature Johnny. Too many bad things happen under the guise of making this world a better place. Never think that science is tainted though Johnny. It just happens to fall into the hands of ignorant men like myself." Brian had not called him Johnny since he was little. Jonathan couldn't imagine his father having any regrets about the work that he does. From what he knew, his father's work was helping people live longer and healthier lives.

Jonathan took a moment to think about some of the things his father had said, as he usually did at this point. He was certain that whatever his father was saying about cellular regeneration was the important part. That is what he needed to focus on and remember. He felt that he should have paid more attention to his father on that car ride home. He loved biology, and he was amazed at what his father did, but for some reason he did not listen close enough that day.

Perhaps what he was working on is important in some way, Jonathan thought.

The remainder of the car ride had Jonathan sitting quietly while his father spoke to himself under his breath. Brian grabbed the remote for the gate as they pulled up in front of their house. The large steel gate lurched open under its own weight. Many of the other homes on this end of the city had gates as well, but none of them were as excessive as this one. It stood nine feet tall and spanned the width of the driveway.

The gate slid back behind the wall, and the bars were intertwined to give the gate additional strength, while the frame was made from steel that was four inches wide by six inches thick. Very little s.p.a.ce was left between the bars, which made it feel like a maximum security prison. To keep the homeowner's a.s.sociation happy, Brian had a delightful flower design worked into the outside.

The large gate shut smoothly despite its weight as the car drove up the driveway and came to a stop in the garage. Jonathan unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out of the car. Walking up to the door into the house they walked past a ladder bolted to the wall that lead up and out onto the rooftop. Brian wanted a way to keep an eye on things outside. Michael always joked that his father should have just put in a periscope.

Immediately after walking inside Brian pulled his iPhone out of his pocket and called his wife. "You need to either get home now or take Michael and find somewhere safe to be," he warned. "I can't be sure, but I think we went too far. The subject came back. n.o.body else made it out of the building, and I'm afraid contamination is spreading fast."

Jonathan tried to stop and listen this time, but he kept walking to his room. Upon entering, he set his backpack down on the bed and pulled the chair out from next to the desk built into the wall and started on the math problems that his father formulated for him. He could still hear his father talking in the other room, but unfortunately he could no longer make out any of the words.

After finis.h.i.+ng his math problems and the two science questions his father gave him to work on a few days ago, Jonathan sat down in front of his small TV to play video games. Despite being encouraged to use firearms by his father he wasn't allowed to play violent video games. His father did believe that video games had the power to "keep the mind sharp" as he put it, so the boys were only allowed to play puzzle games that would test their minds.

Jonathan should have been reading at this time, but he figured while his father was distracted he could play games instead. His father made them read each day also, however, they could only read fiction in their free time. He preferred they read the books that were on the shelves on the walls of the family room. Many of these books came from the college. Some of them were new while others were outdated. With all the options presented for educational reading Jonathan decided to pick up the biology books like his father. Michael always chose to read the books that would help him with his chosen career of mechanical engineering.

Both Jonathan and his brother were brilliant. Their father had them doing math problems before they could talk. Brian believed that math was the key to everything. "Any problem can be solved with math," he'd always say.

Brian worked hard as a young man to gain his PhD in biomedical engineering. He also acquired his master's degree in chemical engineering. His academic pursuits lead him from his home in Iowa to Clay Hills, California. Here he found work at the Biological and Chemical Research Corporation researching diseases such as cancer.

It was later on that night after Jonathan and his father had eaten supper that the peacefulness that had finally settled in was disrupted by the sounds of sirens. Not much sound penetrated the walls of this fortress that Brian had worked hard to build. The sirens were close. Jonathan followed his father out into the garage where they each grabbed a pair of binoculars and climbed the ladder to the roof.

They exited the garage onto the roof through a stainless steel door. From up above, the door was hidden under the s.h.i.+ngles. Lying along the roof was a series of solar panels. These were in place mostly to serve as an emergency power source, but they helped reduce the electric bill. Another source of backup power was a propane powered generator that sat in a shed in the back of the house with a large enough tank to run it for at least a solid month.

"What do you think is going on, Dad?" Jonathan asked curiously as he slid up against one of the solar panels. It was after seven in the evening, and there was enough light left from the day to see most of the town from here.

Brian watched the ambulances through his binoculars. There were many police officers speeding around the town as well. "I have been watching on and off most of the day. The chaos has mostly been in the northern side of the city. It seems to be moving this way. I am not really sure what kept it north for so long. We should have put better procedures into place to contain any contamination that could spread this quickly. You should probably go back in the house. Do not worry about a thing. We will be safe here. I will be in in a little while."

Jonathan descended the ladder, returned the binoculars to their shelf, and walked back into the house. If he had known that this was the last chance he would have to tell his father he loved him he would have done just that.

He was awoken by the tumult coming from outside. Sitting up in fear, Jonathan jumped from his bed and ran to find his father. "Dad! DAD!" Jonathan screamed as he ran through the house, opening doors as he went. As he opened the door leading out into the garage the noise erupted into a bevy of screams and chaos. The garage door was open, and he could see his father running toward the front gate. As the gate opened he could see the blue Dodge Magnum sitting across the street up on the sidewalk. It looked as though it had been hit by another vehicle, pushed into the light posts, and was unable to move.

Jonathan could just make out the woman driving and her two children sitting in the back of the car. Their screams tore through the air like a bolt of lightning causing all the hair on Jonathan's body to stand up. There was so much terror in their screams. Before Brian made it to the car another group of people had gotten there first. They looked angry with the woman, beating on the windows trying to get to her. Jonathan realized they were being attacked, and his father was trying to save them.

As Brian reached the driver side door he looked at the attackers all around them, then back to Jonathan. "Close the gate!" he shouted to Jonathan as he realized he was not going to make it back through. "Close the gate and get inside! I will get in on my own!"

Jonathan did what his father told him and regretted it instantly. He ran into the garage and hit the b.u.t.ton that closes the gate, followed by the garage door. He turned back just in time to see his father pull the children from the car and signal for them to run up the hill. The last image he saw of his father was him shoving some of the attackers away from the ladies car. Soon his father was lost in the chaos, and then the entire world outside vanished as the garage door slide into place against the floor. The unsettling screams were only m.u.f.fled by the walls around him. Jonathan dropped to his knees on the hard concrete floor and didn't even try to hold back the surge of tears.

Chapter 2.

The cool rain drops fell gently onto the roof of the house. It only rained a few times a year in Clay Hills, and the sun still tore through the thin clouds like a lighthouse through the fog. This rain only lasted a few hours and created an underwater effect in the house as the light refracted through the water before s.h.i.+ning through the skylight. It was the first week of August. Four months after the attack Jonathan sat at the bar in the kitchen facing out into the family room. He no longer referred to it as the family room. Instead it was just "the room" to him.

It was his sixteenth birthday. He had baked his own cake using boxed cake mix and a can of frosting from the supply room in the bas.e.m.e.nt. He was surprised by how well it turned out. The white cake was a little bit dry, but there was enough frosting to make up for it. The only thing his father didn't stock up on was birthday candles, and it seemed as if frosting wasn't high on the list of necessary supplies either. He wasn't even able to write "Happy Birthday Jonathan" on the cake. None of that mattered much anymore. How happy would this birthday be with n.o.body to spend it with?

He looked down at his cake and closed his eyes. "I wish that my family is alright, and that they will find their way back home soon." Jonathan inhaled deeply and blew out the imaginary candles. He found that it made him feel silly afterwards.

Cell phones found their way onto his list of things to hate. Because his parents each had a cell phone, they had the home phone disconnected. The only thing they kept was their cable, and the internet was the first service he lost the day of the attack. Over the next couple of days TV channels started to go off the air.

On the day after the attack he was able to catch the end of a news broadcast. "- and families are being advised to stay indoors until the attack can be stopped or contained," the reporter warned in a smooth voice as the TV came on. The man had short dark hair, black plastic framed gla.s.ses, and a handsome face. Jonathan recognized him from the billboards as Bradley Andrews from Channel Thirteen News.

"The National Guard has been dispatched from as far north as Los Angeles down to San Diego to try and head off the attack as it quickly spreads into neighboring counties. We are going off the air until we have more information, but be sure that we will remain right here with you to provide any news as soon as it comes in. Until we return there will be a list of safe zones posted along the bottom of the screen, but we advise you to only try to make your way to any of them if it is absolutely necessary. Thank you and stay safe."

Jonathan looked through the list of safe zones hoping for something close. Most of the list was made up of hospitals and schools with a few military bases. Panic set in as the list started for the third time with no listing for a safe zone in Clay Hills. "If there is no place safe in town, how long do I have to live?" he said out loud. The reporter never returned, and the channel went off the air later that afternoon.

The day after that, Jonathan caught a portion of a presidential broadcast from the white house. "We are still unsure of who is responsible for the attacks on the western half of the United States," President Granderson stated calmly in his firm voice. He was in his late forties, short brown hair with deep hazel eyes. He wore a black suit with a red tie and a white s.h.i.+rt.

He pushed his thin wire framed gla.s.ses back up onto his face and continued his speech. "We believe that if it was the work of a terrorist group then they would have stepped forward to claim the attacks. At this time we have not received any such claim. Once again, the attacks seemed to have started in southern California. From there it spread quickly along the coast.

"The danger zone reaches from the southern tip of California, Western Arizona, Nevada, Utah, and Oregon. We are urging citizens in the connected states to stay indoors for the time being. The National Guard is working around the clock to contain the spread.

"We have received word that the attack has also spread into Mexico. The Mexican government has contacted us just a few moments ago. The reports from around the U.S about cannibalism have yet to be confirmed. I urge you all to please stay indoors. New counties are being added to the danger zone as we speak. I'm being told that the T.V stations will run a continuous broadcast of the danger zone as we move forward. Please, stay safe and G.o.d bless us all."

That was the last time he had seen the President on television. Jonathan a.s.sumed that after this broadcast he would be flown to a bunker somewhere in the mountains. A map of the United States appeared on the T.V screen with a red area to represent the danger zones. A large red blotch filled most of the western side of the map.

The next day, Jonathan had turned on the T.V to see that a much larger portion of the map was now red. Was.h.i.+ngton, Idaho, New Mexico, and Montana were now red, as well as Maine, New York, and Pennsylvania. All of Mexico had been consumed by the red blotch. The southern parts of Canada on both the east and west were also being filled with red.

Scrolling text along the bottom of the screen reported that a plane had crashed in upstate New York. The survivors of the crash began attacking the rescue workers as help arrived. He was relieved to see that Iowa was not yet in the danger zone. This gave him hope for his family.

Jonathan had started listening to the radio every day for months after the TV stations went out. He was hoping that there would be some news of what was happening. He managed to catch the end of a broadcast one morning. There was a man urging people to stay indoors and wait for help to arrive. That was back in October. Help hadn't found him yet. There was always the thought that maybe he should go find help, but he knew if Michael and his mother were ok then they would look for him at home.

After months of being isolated in the house, Jonathan found himself talking to everything. He knew he was doing it and that he wouldn't receive a response, but it was comforting to him to pretend he wasn't completely alone. He feared becoming unattached from reality. At some point he believed he would find his questions answered, or his jokes laughed at by a poster or even a lamp. He dreaded that day.

For now he at least believed he still maintained his sanity, so he continued to keep himself busy by creating housework to be done. He cleaned different rooms on different days of the week. He took care of things in the greenhouse every morning. He also alphabetized the food in the pantry. Much of the remainder of his time was spent learning.

He spent time over the next seven months reading and watching old instructional videos his father had acquired over the years. Jonathan's knowledge of biology increased rapidly. He consumed books like a hungry wolf consumed its prey, yet he couldn't find comfort in reading or the knowledge he was gaining. He needed to know if there was still a world outside. At the very least he needed a place where he could find normality and civilization.

Upon waking up one morning and making his way down the hall, Jonathan decided it was time to go into his parent's room. He hadn't been in here since before his father disappeared. Standing there in front of that door now made his body feel numb. He hadn't even noticed it in months. It's been over a year, and Jonathan had just about forgotten who his parents even were. He was over them. That was the only way he could describe his feelings for them now.

His hand trembled slightly as he grasped the bra.s.s doork.n.o.b. Clunk. The sound that came from the latch was soft, yet it had sounded much louder in the quiet hallway. Like the sonic boom from a plane flying overhead as it breaks the sound barrier. The door hinges creaked slightly as Jonathan pushed it open. He had been in this room many times in the past, but it seemed so foreign to him now. The ma.s.sive four poster bed stood out like a beast as it lay sleeping in its cave. On the left side sat the bathroom. To the right was a walk in closet.

Jonathan could only stare. His legs wouldn't move. The thought of turning back came barreling into his mind, but there was nothing to fear here. The room was empty, as it had been for all this time. After a deep breath, he finally gained control of his legs and stepped into the room. With the first step behind him he felt calm and relaxed. Not really sure what he was doing, Jonathan decided first to check out his father's personal collection of rifles that he kept in a large safe in the back of the walk-in closet.

Standing in the closet entrance he looked left at the side that held his mother's clothes. He knew from watching his father that behind these racks was a wall that slid to the side. After moving this panel over, Jonathan stood face to face with a large gun safe. Turning the large dial to the numbers thirteen -twenty-one - thirty-four, the safe door unlatched, and with putting his weight into it Jonathan managed to pull the heavy door open. His father had told him how to figure out the combination to the safe. It was the numbers from the Fibonacci sequence. He would change the combination to a different set of numbers each week even though there was little threat of anyone trying to break in. He hasn't been around to change them, and Jonathan was with his father the last time he opened the safe.

Among the guns in this safe is a magnificent looking Steyr HS50 fifty caliber rifle. This rifle was more of a vanity purchase for his father. Jonathan had only seen it shot by his father once. Also inside were several Springfield handguns. Jonathan's favorite of these was the two nine millimeter XDs that he frequently shot. He removed them from the safe along with an AR-15 and plenty of ammunition for both. He slid each XD into the shoulder holster, where they came to rest comfortably. Jonathan picked up the AR by the shoulder strap and carried it to the bed where he sat it down.

Looking around the room Jonathan started to wonder more about what he should be doing. Surely Michael and is mother should have made it to him by now if they were alright. His father would have made it back too by now. Jonathan turned to the Steyr sitting in the safe, "I guess it must be time to go out," he spoke softly to the rifle as a playfully sinister smile crept across his face. Walking back to the safe he grabbed the Steyr and one round out of the box and left the AR behind.

With the rifle slung over his shoulder Jonathan made his way up the ladder in the garage. The rifle felt very heavy to him. This was the first time he had ever been able to hold it. Jonathan felt the warm air rush in to greet him as he opened the hatch on the roof. The sun was bright, and it took his eyes a minute to adjust. He stayed low to the roof as he looked around into the town for the first time in a year. He felt as though he had been punched in the stomach. It was gradually becoming more difficult to breathe. He rolled onto his back, closed his eyes, and began to count.