Disclaimer and trigger warning: This chapter take place when Andy is almost fifteen and she has to witness something very difficult. If you know you might get triggered by what could happened to someone losing a child, then skip this chapter. It's not graphic, or described in detail, but the emotions are real.

Gun

Andrea’s walking behind Ogden along the empty street. Briarly, a subdivision on the east side of Remerton, a part of the area she’d never had a reason to visit before, looks empty if you disregard three dogs of different breeds that keep following them at a distance. She recognizes two of the breeds. One is a German shepherd, and the other won is a labrador. The third one is black with long legs and raggedy fur, but she can’t identify its origin. Andrea grips her enhanced baseball bat. The dogs don’t appear aggressive, but they can very well see her and Ogden as prey anyway.

“Over there’s the local grocery store right next to the library,” Ogden says and points further up the street. “I would have parked the truck closer, but as you can see, there’s something like a barricade here.

In front of the grocery stores sits at least fifteen vehicles. Some are parked correctly, but most of them are placed haphazardly and three of them are driven up on top of the others. Perhaps they were truly used as barricades once.

On the other side of the street, Magnus and a new member of Ogden’s collective, Azim. He was born in Eigype and has lived in the US since he was three. Now he’s thirty and has worked as a teacher in central Remerton. Andrea feels especially responsible for Azim since she sort of found him when she and Ogden were out on one of their scavenger hunts.

Azim was staying all alone on the second floor ont top of a larger grocery store and had carefully approached them when she was grabbing what was left on the picked over shelves. Ogden had been over at the sports section, true to habit, and come close to shooting Azim in the head when he came toward them and saw a stranger talking to her. Only the fact that Andrae got between Azim and Ogden’s hunting rifle saved Azim from being shot, possibly killed.

Ogden had roared at Azim who had backed up in terror, his hands in the air. Andrea first thought she had made a big mistake, but it all ended with Azim fetching his backpack and riding with them back to the Hudskill.

Now Azim raises his hand and motion pointedtly at the dogs. They are slowly closing in on them, and the one in charge keeps their head low and seem to study them with calculating eyes.

“Ogden,” Andrea mutters. “Check out those dogs again. We need to pick up the speed a bit.”

Ogden stseps and then frowns. “You’re right. They’re herding us. German shephers are good at that.”

Andrea doesn’t need any further explanation. She walks quickly toward the car barricade and rounded it with practiced caution. Nobody was on the other side or inside the cars, as far as she could see. Now she could easily see the door leading into the grocery stores and the library’s entrance further down.  Its door was hanging from its upper hinge, and one of the bookshelves lay askew across the doorway. Andrea used her well-trained eyes to scan what she could see through the windows. Ogden had grilled her at how important it was to keep track of the smallest details. She saw no movements, and she heard no sounds. The others joined her, one after another.

“If Ogden and I keep guard, you and Azim can climb inside. If the dogs come to close, I suppose we have to risk shooting them.

“No!” Andrea flinched. “I mean, not if there’s a chance, they’re not hostile.”

“Of course not,” Ogden said. “Just be careful in there. The building stretches far toward the back of the library, and we don’t know what, or who, can be in there. You know what books to prioritize.”

“Absolutely,” Azim said firmly. “Book about herbs, first aid, medicine, surgery, weapons, military strategies, survival, etcetera. Don’t worry, Ogden. We’ll take care of it.”

“Good.” Ogdeen looks serious. “And the most important thing of all?”

“We protect each other.” Andrea answers automatically, but knows that for Ogden, it’s not big deal if they return without a single book, as long as they emerge from the library alive and uninjured.

Ogden nudges her arm in a friendly way. “You got that right.”

Azim goes in first, his new weapons, an assault rifle attached to his back, but with a sidearm in his hand, ready to defend them. Andrea has no firearm yet. Ogden is adamant that she should train more, and reach a certain age, before he allows it. In stead, she keeps her baseball bat at a forty-five-degree angle downward on her right. It’s a good angle if she needs to engage it. A hard quick blow from beneath to someone’s jaw…and if they don’t go down and still pose a threat, she’ll follow up with a practiced full swing from the side to the temple.

Inside the library, they first do a quick search of the premises. Adjacent small rooms and the staff break room don’t show signs of anyone spending the night. She moves agilely behind Azim and tries not to make a sound. 

Seeing all the books in the library brings her back to Christmas Eve, and the memory of how happy she had been about the book Ogden and Annemarie gave her. She still cherished it, but it would forever be tinged with the anxiety she struggled with after that evening. She tries to not let Azim notice how her brain tortures her by replaying the events, blow by blow. 

It’s been two months and she’s closing in on her fifteenth birthday. Each day, she sees Emma and her slowly fading scar. It’s healed, but it will always be there to remind Emma, and everyone else, about how vulnerable they all are, and especially the youngest among them. Andra winces at the memory of Emma’s panic when she realized the scar would never fully go away, despite Annemarie’s encouragement that it is early days yet.

“Here. What do you think about this one?” Azim holds up a book. “Living in the Wild. It’s a children’s book. I thought for Emma?”

“Let’s get that one,” Andrea says quickly. “I’ll se if I can find anything about horses.” Ever since a few of the other grownups in Ogden’s ever-growing collective had found four horses grazing in the forest and brought them back to the camp, Andrea has been part of the team that has scavenged for oats, hay, and such. Emma loves horses and dreams of riding the smallest of them.

The children’s section is practically untouched. It makes Andrea’s stomach churn, as this is only proof of all the children that are gone—and not in need of something to read. She walks along one of the shelves, her index finger bouncing along the spines of the books.

Then she spots a familiar title. Even Andrea went through a brief period of intense horse interest, and now she remembers loving the books about a horse named Flicka. Without hesitation, she pushes three books into her backpack for Emma. They’re not important for survival per se, not in a practical sense, but to keep Emma entertained and happy, will do wonders for her mental health. They can read them together and make her forget the damn scar for a moment. That can mean survival for them both.

“Ah!” Azim’s groan startles her as it echoes around the library. 

Andrea pivots with her bat raised. “Azim?” she calls out.

“Stay…away…” Azim is gasping now, and Andrea hears heavy boots against the floor. She makes her way to the almost empty shelf and moves carefully to not slip on the book pile on the floor. Has Ogden and Magnus heard them? She prays they have.

Andrea rounds the shelf slowly, and instinctively wants to close her eyes when she sees a large man stand over the thin Azim with a sneaker clad foot pressed against his neck. Azim is on the floor, his back painfully bent backward over the full backpack. The man is wearing a long, beige overcoat and black jeans. Andrea knows she can’t chicken out now. Azim is her responsibility now that he’s in trouble.  The stranger seems unarmed, but who knows what he carries under his coat.

“Let him go,” Andrea says, her voice dark. It comes out automatically when she’s training and obviously it shows up when it’s crunch time too.  “Turn around. Slowly.”

“What the fuck…?” The man sounds hoarse and is breathing heavily. Then he steps off Azim’s neck and turns half toward Andrea. “A damn kid.”

“Perhaps.” Andrea keeps a sturdy grip of her bat, but not as hard as she used to in the beginning. “But a damn kid that can knock your head clean off. How many of you are there?” 

The question seems to surprise the man who looks over his other shoulder.

Andrea in turn keeps looking for Azim’s weapon. She can’t see it anywhere. Why hasn’t the man taken it from him? Then she sees the barrel of Azim’s assault rifle. It sticks out from under Azim’s backpack. In case Azim can manage to roll onto his left side, he might be able to reach it.

Andrea contemplates forcing the man to step over to the entrance. Or she might attempt to call Ogden and Magnus. The initiative is taken from her when the man takes a step toward her. Andrea pulls the bat backward and then it describes a fast, and as it turns out accurate, semicircle, landing it against the man’s right arm. He raises it and tries to turn away from her bat, but she’s practiced the exact steps so many times that she easily changes position and lets the enhanced bat slam into the man’s shoulder from the side.  A nasty crackling sound is heard, and the man screams in pain.

Azim rolls to the side and yanks his weapon from the floor, snaps the safety off, and aims it at the stranger who’s moaning and holding his shoulder. “Keep your distance,” Azime says with a growl. “We don’t want any trouble. We’re just here for some books.”

“Damn. She broke my arm. Or my collarbone.” The man is howling and then gives a startled scream when Goden’s sudden presence scare him enough to back up even more.

“All well in here?” Ogden swept the room with his weapon at eye level. “Who’s this guy? Where did he come from?”

“We don’t know,” Azim says.

“Maybe through the door that was close at the end of the corridor over there?” Andrea is still ready for more people to show up, or that the man has faked the severity of his injury.

“Who are you?” Ogden asks the stranger who is wiping tears of pain with the sleeve on his uninjured arm.

“Ah. I have to sit down. I feel sick.” The man sits down on one of the small kids’ tables. His tall, gangly body looks completely foldable as he sits there with his knees almost to his ears. “My name’s Christopher. My wife and I, we’re staying toward the back of the building.”

“Why did you attack Azim?” Andrea asks.

“Someone pulled the door. My wife…she’s scares easily. I mean, really badly. She’s in a perpetual state of terror.” Christopher pulls trembling fingers over his eyes. “And now she’s ill again. I can’t risk anyone getting in. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.” He covers his face with his good hand.

A piercing scream from the inner regions of the building makes Christopher go rigid, and Andrea jerks, gripping her bat firmly again. Christopher gets up and takes a few steps toward the sound but slips on some books on the floor. Ogden and Azim catch him and put him back on the small table again.

“Guard him,” Andrea says. “Azim and I will investigate.

Another scream, which is more like a howl, makes Christopher sob. “Don’t go in there.”

“Wy not? In what way is your wife ill? Bird flu?” Andrea turns hastily and looks at him.

“No. Not that. Beryl is…our daughters died long after the birds came. They must’ve gotten ill among the very last. We thought they were immune too for the longest time. They weren’t. Beryl, well, she was in complete denial that the girls had the bird flu. She stubbornly insisted that it was regular flu, and that they’d recover.”

The woman screams again. This time she calls her husband’s name.

“She’s panicking in there. Let me go so I can go to her.” Christopher looks pleadingly at Ogden who still has his weapon trained on him.

“Sure. We’ll go with you.” Ogden takes a firm grip of Christopher’s uninjured arm.

Andrea calls out to Magnus through the entrance, letting him know what they’re doing.

A damp and strange smell comes toward them from the half-open door leading to the back rooms. Before the birds, Andrea would have crinkled her nose and refused to enter. Now, more than a year later, she’s tougher.

Azim raises his assault rifle while Andrea pushes the door open with the tip of her bat. The woman in there is whimper now, rather than screaming.

“Beryl. Please. It’s just me,” Christopher says and pulls his hand across his eyes again. “I have some people with me. I ran into them out in the library. Just take it easy and I’ll join you.”

“No. No-no-no-no...” The woman murmurs and Andrea can hear how she’s moving around. Something is rustling. “The girls are asleep. Can’t disturb them. Please. Chris. Not disturb them when they sleep.”

Christopher sobs and slumps down along the wall, ending up in a crouch. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

“Andy. Come. You and I’ll go inside,” Ogden says, his jaws working. “Don’t let her see your bat.” He shoots her a quick glance. “You don’t have to, of course.”

“I’m coming with you.” Andrea doesn’t hesitate. She thinks of her Mom, how she would have felt if she lost her and Theodor. Mom was strong and extremely capable in all situations, but existing among strangers without her kids—that’s asking a lot of a person. The least Andrea can do is see what they can do for this mother. Surely, you’re a mother still, even if your kids are dead?

Andrea goes in after Ogden, who is carrying his weapon by his side, trying to keep it out of sight. “Hello, Beryl,” he says, his voice warm. “I’m Ogden, and this is Andy. We just thought we’d check on you and see how you’re doing.”

Andrea knows she’ll never forget the sight that meets them in the room. A woman about Mom’s age sits in the barren room, surrounded by sleeping bags, piles of books, and a multitude of grocery bags. The stench is worse in here, and it’s not just from the unkempt, dirty woman. Her hair of undeterminable color hangs in greasy tresses around her face, the light-blue cardigan has holes in it, and is just as dirty. 

“No-no-no,” Beryl whispers and pulls back toward the wall behind her. “No.”

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Ogden says. He smiles kindly and crouches after giving Andrea a pointed look. She knows what it means. ‘Cover me.’

“No?” Beryl’s swollen eyes look drugged when she’s trying to fix them on Ogden. She manages perhaps, because she stops plucking at everything. Instead, she places them tenderly on top of two bundles that she keeps to her right. She rocks from side to side.

Ogden flinches. “Oh, my God.”

Andrea blinks. He’s gone pale in a way she hasn’t seen since Christmas.  “Ogden.”

“We can’t do very much here right now.” Ogden gets up. “Come, Andy.”

“But…we can just leave them? She’s so skinny…” And it could have been Mom. Andrea wants to explain, but she sees that something makes Ogden back away.

“Sometimes it’s just not possible, my girl,” Ogden says softly, his voice hoarser than normal. “Come.”

Andrea doesn’t know if it’s the fact that Ogden calls her ‘my girl’ or because Beryl now has begun to move about more and pulling the bundles closer. She rocks them and hums an unidentifiable melody.

Andrea suddenly understands and now she doesn’t want to remain in the room a moment longer. She has to get out. Out in the fresh air and rather go up against the dogs outside. “Yeah. Let’s go,” she says, and it’s painful to speak. Bile stings the back of her throat, and she knows she’ll throw up unless she gets out—now.

Ogden lets Andrea leave the bunker-like room first, and then joins her. He stops and studies Christopher who hasn’t moved since his knees gave in. “Poor soul,” Ogden murmurs. “I think we have enough books this time around. WE won’t bother you anymore.”

“Thought as much,” Christopher says dully.

Azim looks surprised, but he can probably read something on their faces that convinces him they need to go, as he follows them without protesting. As they exit the library and meet up with Magnus, Andrea draws in one deep breath of air after another. She bends over and spits twice, but she manages to avoid getting sick. Stepping further away from the building, she stands eye to eye with the German shepherd that seemed to be the leader of the three dogs from before. He’s alone now and sits very still and with his paws perfectly placed under him. He studies them closely.

“Shit,” Azim says and raises his weapon. 

“No! Don’t shot!” Andrea isn’t sure why she reacts the way she does, when she gets between him and the dog.  “He’s not dangerous.” Andrea is convinced that this is true.

“You don’t know that,” Magnus says and looks apprehensively at the dog. “At least it’s got a collar.” He pushes his fingers through his hair. “What happened in there, Ogden?”

“The woman looks beyond saving—at least with our limited resources, in the world we’re living in now. If she’d had access to professional care, then perhaps…but now?” He shakes his head.

“She’s still got their dead kids with her,” Andrea says quietly, still keeping her eye on the dog next to them. “They’re right next to her, wrapped in towels. She can’t let them go.”

“God,” Magnus says and he too pales. “That…” He seems at a loss for words, and who can blame him?

“Don’t’ get to close to the dog,” Ogden tells Andrea who is about three feet from the German shepherd. “He’s been wild for a year, I’m sure.”

“He’s not wild that way.” Without hesitating, Andrea takes the last step and crouches in front of the dog. Behind her she hears weapons being readied. “Hello, boy. Are you hungry?” Andrea sticks her hand into her pocket and pulls out an oatmeal cookie that Emma and Annemarie baked. “Want a treat? A cookie?”

The dog’s ears go forward, and his tail begins to wag. He sniffs the cookie, and two clear drops run from the corners of his mouth. Then he takes the cookie with his front teeth and wolf it down in one chomp. The tail picks up speed. 

Andrea leans her head sideways and touches the dog-bone shaped medallion carefully. “Zantana. And a phone number. Remerton prefix.”

“I’ll be damned.” Ogen takes a few steps forward and looks at Zantana and Andrea. “Zantana. Heel.”

Andrea looks in astonishment how the dog leaves her and her cookies and rounds Ogden only to sit down close to his left leg.

“Well trained.” Azim whistles. “A dog like that could be good to have around the camp.”

Yes. Zantana would be worth his weight in gold in the Hudskills. “I vote we bring him with us. He can be our yard dog.”

“You do, huh?” Ogden looks amused as he pats Zantana’s head. The dog is breathing with his mouth open and looks like he’s smiling.

They’re getting ready to leave the sidewalk and climb back over the vehicle barricade when the silence is sliced open by two sharp bangs. They duck behind the cars. Ogden curses and turns to Azim and Andrea. “Was Christopher armed?”

“Not that I saw,” Andrea says, her mind reeling. Had she missed it?

“He used himself as a weapon when he attacked me and wrestled me to the ground,” Azim shakes his head. Then he looks down at himself, wincing. He looks up at Ogden, his eyes pleading. “I must’ve dropped my sidearm.”

“Hou will stay here with Adrea and the dog,” Ogden says firmly, his eyes unreadable. “Magnus and I go inside to see what can potentially be done.” He motions Magnus to go with him and they move with great caution under the ruined door.

Andrea and Azim stand silently, back-to-back, keeping watch. Next to them, Zantana seems to do the same.

Magnus and Ogden come back after just a few minutes. They’re both pale again and have haunted expressions in their eyes. 

“He shot her and then himself.” Ogden comes up to Andrea and puts his arm around her shoulders. “We found the gun.” He hands it to Azim. “Don’t lose it again.”

Andrea glances furtively at Azim who reluctantly accepts the gun back and places it back into his holster. He looks devastated. 

The way Andrea sees it, she can’t judge Christopher for his action, for what he did. God knows how long they’d been in that room together like that. He looked as far gone as Beryl had, just in another way. She hopes they’re together with their girls now.

They walk in silence toward the truck, and Zantana follows them willingly. None of the other dogs are visible down the street, and no people either. Andrea feels the weight of the books against her back, but it’s still nothing compared to the weight in her heart when she thinks about the couple in the library—and of Mom.