Joel’s mind was blank, aside from a dull ache. He tried to open his eyes, but the light sent pulsing throbs through his head. His mind was consumed with the pounding in his head. The intensity of the headache subsided, but he kept his eyes shut, for fear of the light setting his headache off, again. He couldn’t smell anything discerning, but Joel could feel a soft breeze that came and went. He figured it was a fan set to oscillate. He blindly felt around himself and decided he was on a cot. He reached to the sides but could feel nothing besides a cold concrete floor. His anxiety grew and his mind began to shuffle his thoughts. He thought about his dad, which made his heart flutter and his chest tighten. He prayed his father was still alive, but the prayer was interrupted by stray images of the bloody lady from the wrecked car. The empty town haunted his thoughts, then it was replaced by the puzzling yellow fog. It came full circle, and Joel worried about his father, again.

He didn’t realize he was crying; until a tear ran down his cheek and into his ear. He felt the tickle and noticed the wetness on his finger when he rubbed at his ear. Joel knew he needed to focus and figure out what his situation was. His last memories were of speaking to a man, but nothing else. He remembered he was at the gas station, talking to that man, and then getting up, from the ground.

Joel slowly cracked his eyes open and avoided any of the bright lights. Through his overlapping eyelashes, Joel saw four sleeping forms on cots. He did not recognize this building. He did not recognize the people, either. Not knowing how he got here made Joel feel disconnected. Knowing he had been handled, and moved, and being completely unaware of it made him uneasy.

Where am I? How did I get here? Who are they?

Joel remembered walking around; scared shitless. He remembered feeling so hopeless and alone. How did he end up here?

Sharp throbbing interrupted his thoughts. For a few minutes, all Joel could do was squeeze his head and clench his eyes. The intense pain brought a bout of nausea. Joel felt like he was spinning. The throbbing passed and Joel began thinking about how he got there, again.

It has to be my head. I must have hit it on something. These people found me and brought me with them. Living people! Thank God…living people…

It was a weak theory, but it made sense and made Joel feel better. He inspected his body but felt no injuries or pains. Everything seemed fine, besides his head. Joel cracked his eyes, again, and took an inventory of his surroundings. There were three men and a woman sleeping around him. He scanned the rest of the building and didn’t see anybody moving around.

Joel noticed the men’s guns and it made him uneasy. But, after the sights Joel walked through, he decided it wasn’t that strange. It made sense to arm yourself. Especially, with the bizarre yellow air and the bloody people. He could not blame them for being scared. He couldn’t know what happened and that made him not trust these strangers. He decided to look around the building.

Joel worried about making noise. It helped that the building had a very tidy concrete floor. Joel’s shoes had been removed, so his socks made no sound as he stood from the bed. His eyes stayed in a constant rotation as he tried to monitor the sleepers. Joel couldn’t rely on the sounds of snoring or bodies repositioning. The only way for Joel to make sure nobody woke up was to keep an eye on them.

He backed out of the sleeping area. He reached the first aisle and ducked into it. He took a moment to calm his nerves. After a look to make sure the strangers were asleep, he began looking through the rows of shelves. It didn’t take long to make his way around the building. It was very well stocked, with just about everything. He spent a great deal of time looking through the contents of the gang boxes.

Why do they have all these guns?

In Oklahoma...guns were normal. Hell, even Joel, and his dad, had a dozen. But their guns were all hand-me-downs. The only new gun they owned was the one Joel got for his twelfth birthday.

Who are these guys? Are they with the man I spoke to, at the gas station?

Joel was careful not to touch anything in the gang boxes. He knew how possessive people could be about their guns. He wasn’t sure where he stood with this group, but he knew better than to do anything to cause unnecessary problems. The nearby box of MREs caught his eye. He was starving. There were so many different meals. He selected four meals and lined them up on the table. Grabbing one at random, Joel pinched the top of the pouch and began to tear it open.

He stopped.

They might not wanna share their food with me. Should I ask first? Do I wake one of them up?

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Joel ignored his hunger.

I think I’ll just wait until they wake up, and then ask.

Joel put the MRE back on the table. His hunger was even more intense after getting excited about eating. He stood up, but the action sent his head throbbing. He waited a moment, and the headrush subsided. Slowly, Joel examined the nearby aisles. The area close to the table was mainly food-related items. Cookware, utensils, plates, bowls, knives, pots, pans, strainers, and the like. Moving beyond that, Joel discovered a section for crafting. There were anvils, hammers, snips, leather aprons and gloves, and all sorts of specialized contraptions that Joel didn’t recognize. Two entire aisles were just parts for vehicles. There were engine blocks, transmissions, wheels, tires, and all the little bolt-ons that cars needed to be replaced.

There was so much to take in, but Joel’s favorite find was the library section. The fiction selection was scant, but there were books about bushcraft, first aid, primitive skills, engineering manuals, gardening, scavenging, anatomy, biology, and even rows of different religious books.

Looks like the preppers get the last laugh.

Joel took a book about bushcraft and returned to the table. It was a thick volume, complete with technical drawings and pictures. He tried to read, a bit, but it made his head ache, so he settled on looking through the pictures. His stomach began to protest its emptiness and he found it hard to focus on the pictures. Earlier, he stopped himself from taking an MRE, but he never put them away. There were still four MREs sitting in front of him.

If these people mean harm, it won’t matter if I eat one MRE. And if they are nice. They have hundreds of these. I can pay them back with the cash Dad gave me.

Joel snatched up an MRE and ripped the package open. The contents tumbled onto the table. That particular ration was beef ravioli in meat sauce. It came with a cheese spread, a dense cracker, a muffin top, a meat stick, and a beverage powder. The package came with a chemical heater, to heat the ration, but Joel was beyond hungry and ate the ravioli cold. He ravenously tore through the entrée, before sucking down the smaller sides.

Without regret, Joel devoured a second MRE. His hunger satiated, Joel began to feel drowsy. Not wanting to fall asleep, Joel went to get a better look at a few things on the shelves. He went to put the book back in its place, but he knocked a book over and it flipped off the shelf. His chest seized as he watched the heavy hardback volume tumble downward. He stood too close to the shelving to lunge for the book. Joel feared the noise the book would cause. Without regard for the consequences, Joel slid his socked foot over and let the book bounce off it, instead of the hard floor. The book hit like a brick. Unfortunately, the corner of the book’s spine jammed into the big knuckle of his big toe.

It fucking hurt, but he avoided vocalizing the sharp pain. He clenched his fists and squeezed his entire body trying to ride out the intense pain. Like stumping a toe, Joel felt the need to scream or punch something, but it was a strong but short-lived pain. The toe gradually stopped thrumming, but his head was pounding from the spike in his blood pressure. Joel bent to pick up the book and swooned. He stood upright and leaned against the shelf. He let his vision refocus before heading to another section of shelves.

After making sure the strangers were still asleep, Joel snuck to the other end of the building. There was a giant box filled to the brim with pencils. Beside that was a pallet of copy paper. Joel grabbed a reem of paper and a handful of pencils.

I’ll owe them for this, too.

Joel took the items back to the table. With excruciating care, Joel slowly tore the paper wrapping loose from the copy paper. Even though he could not hear, he could feel the vibrations the paper made as it ripped apart. The aim was to tear very slowly, so he tried to move slowly enough to count the little vibrations. Slow vibrations meant a low frequency. Low frequencies weren’t as noticeable to the ear.

There was a direct line of sight, from the table to the sleeping area. Joel sat facing the sleeping strangers. He sat and sketched the face of the man he remembered talking to. Joel was an amazing drawer. The careful detailing and precise strokes hogged his attention, and Joel quickly got lost in the rhythmic scratches of graphite on paper. He got bored with the unknown face and started a new sketch. This time, he worked on a portrait of his father. He didn’t need a reference to draw his dad. He knew every wrinkle on his face. Joel had hundreds of sketches of his dad. The drowsiness hit, again, and Joel pushed his father’s face away. He stood and stretched, but his eyes were still heavy. He knew he was about to fall asleep. He couldn’t fight it. Tears snuck down his face as panic began to flood him.

I can’t sleep. I don’t know what they plan to do to me. Maybe, I can find some--Crap! I’m falling asleep standing up. Think. Think.

Joel began to float. His conscious perceptions were disconnecting as his brain was forcing itself to shut down. Joel sat back down and vigorously rubbed his eyes.

Not yet, dang it. Give me a few more minutes. I gotta keep my heart rate up.

Joel grabbed a fresh sheet of paper and began to write. He waggled his shoulders and bobbed his head. It was all he could think to do from a seated writing position. It helped—a little, but he still nodded off every few minutes. He began to doze longer. Now he would fall completely asleep, only waking when his head sank to his chest. He was nearly done. He needed to finish. He knew at any moment he would doze off, for good.

Getting to his feet, Joel leaned over the table and wrote. His head and shoulders continued their movements, but he began shimmying his hips, too.

Almost there.

Joel finally finished writing and let himself sag into the chair. After placing the paper on the table, he crossed his arms, on the table, and rested his head.

Whoo—almost forgot!

Joel sprang up, snatched another sheet of paper, and wrote another note. This one was only two words, and he wrote them in huge block letters. He positioned the new note next to the first one.

Joel recrossed his arms and put his head back down. This time, he stayed asleep.