Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
-"The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost
Chapter One
Angela
"How's it lookin' out there, Mikey?" She didn't look up as she shoved supplies into her knapsack. Michael, her younger brother, was standing guard at the window, out of sight from anyone passing by but able to clearly see if they had company. He looked left and right up the dirt road upon which the old general store sat. It was empty of biters and of people. The store had mostly remained untouched by looters; this area of Georgia was heavily wooded, leaving hardly any room for human population. A few cabins had been built around the area, but so far, that was as far as inhabitants went.
"Looks okay. You almost finished there?" His grip on his bat tightened as a biter came into view. Before he did anything about it, though, he waited just in case more were behind it. "Got one biter at the front exit. So far it's alone."
"Hold up a sec. I'm almost finished." Angela picked up the remaining boxes of cold and sinus medication, as well as a bottle of anti-itch ointment. The kids were always getting mosquito and chigger bites, and they were running out of Benadryl spray. She closed up the knapsack and threw it over her shoulder. "All right, let's get the hell out of here."
The biter was making its way toward their horses, which were pawing and stomping the ground anxiously at the threat of a predator. Michael and Angela hastily left the building and mounted their horses, spinning them towards home. As he galloped past it, Michael swung his bat and knocked the biter on its ass. Laughing triumphantly, Michael bent over his horse's neck, spurring it faster to catch up with his sister. They raced up the road and veered off to the left, onto a dirt path. As they continued their pace, Angela kept her eyes open for any stray biters that might have broken off from a larger group. So far, all she could see was the blending of the red, yellow, and orange leaves as autumn fell upon Georgia. The weather had cooled considerably since the summer, dropping from a scorching ninety-eight degrees to mid-seventies, and the leaves had begun to turn. Birds had begun to migrate further south and most of the mammals, like skunks and squirrels, had started their food stores for the winter. Black bears had also become slightly more active as they foraged for enough food to get them through the winter, and therefore Angela and whoever she brought along on missions had to keep their guards up. Thus far, they'd had no run-ins with bears, and Angela hoped to keep it that way.
Angela and Michael slowed their horses to a trot as they reached a narrower part of the path and Michael reined his horse behind his sister's, drawing closer to the compound they'd set up. Then the sunlight became brighter and the horses emerged into an open field. Fifty yards ahead of them sat the compound. It had once acted as a military base, with a solid concrete wall all around it, but once the government and the military met their untimely ends, it served as a reliable safe haven for its new inhabitants. Inside the base, cabins had been built to house the numerous families that had either stumbled across the base or who had been brought back by Angela when she went out on missions. In all there were close to one hundred people inside the base, and it was a fight to keep them all fed and cared for, but with the help of her brother and some of the other adults they'd made it work.
The large sliding chain-link fenced was pulled open—it had once been activated by the push of a button, but it was lost when electricity became extinct—and the two riders trotted inside. As they dismounted, two attendants took their reins and led the horses away. Children and adults alike crowded around them, asking about their findings, how the trip went, if they'd had any trouble. Angela handed her knapsack over to the main caretaker of food and medicine. Fred Dubont was the closest they were going to come to a doctor. Before the world ended he was simply a pediatrician, but he'd proven valuable in this new world when such things as surgery were obsolete. Fred left the circle to sort out and take inventory of the contents, and then later he would get back to Angela with the final count. Meanwhile, Angela sought to get dinner prepared and a fire started.
A large circular fire pit was situated in the center of the base with rocks surrounding it to keep the fire from spreading. With endless forest on all sides of the compound, firewood came easy and was chopped and stacked against the westernmost wall. Many of the survivors that had been welcomed into the haven had brought all of their food stores with them and were willing to share with everyone else. Tonight, Angela and the rest of the adults prepared a meal of meatloaf—which many of the children protested at first—canned peas and corn, and baked potatoes. Along with a pediatrician, more than a few farmers had stepped up to help plant the field just outside the gates, and soon the compound had fresh vegetables almost every harvest.
"How was the trip today, Angie?" one of the older kids, a thirteen-year-old boy named Morgan, asked. He piled a generous portion of potato on his fork and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing loudly. Angela sent him a small, chastising look, but there was a smile in her eyes.
"It went well. One biter showed up but Michael took it out pretty easily. You should've seen him. Dropped his reins and hit it like he was at batting practice." Morgan laughed and a few of the adults sent disapproving glances in Angela's direction for giving such a mental image at dinner.
Out of all of the survivors, Angela ate the least, and so she was finished only a few minutes into the meal. Not everyone in the compound joined in on the meals; some families chose to bring their food back into their cabins and eat as a family. Usually only about thirty showed up at dinner. Tonight was no exception. Michael was seated on her left and one of her former kindergarten students, Amanda, sat on her right. The five-year-old was almost always the last to finish, but Michael stayed at the table with her when everyone else gathered by the fire. Angela glanced further down the table. About eight of the children in the base were her former students before the world ended; their families hadn't made it, but a few of the families here had been accommodating and welcomed them into their homes. They'd been lucky enough to get along with the other children, but Angela knew that deep down, they sorely missed their families and would have preferred to have them here. There were Jacob and Johnny, two brothers whose mother had been bitten and turned. Angela had been forced to put her down herself when the woman broke into the school. Jacob hadn't spoken much after that, and Johnny typically had to tell others what Jacob was thinking or wanted to say.
Seated across from Jacob and Johnny was Sam and Alice. Sam was a small, African-American boy who had been bullied on a daily basis for his size. Alice had always stepped up to his defense, telling off even the largest boy on the playground, Daniel. Unfortunately, Daniel hadn't been able to be saved after his older sister bit him on the arm. Unable to shoot a child, Angela had brought him along with them, and when he died of the fever, she took him far into the woods to put him down for good. Before she returned to the minivan of children, she spent a few minutes alone to cry. She'd leaned her head against the rough bark of a tree and let the tears fall. When the end of the world began, she hadn't had time to think of what she was doing—her motto now was "act now, think later"—and she hadn't even been able to let a single tear slip. Not only was she constantly fighting to stay alive, she also knew she couldn't break down in front of the kids. She was their only hope; out on their own, they surely wouldn't make it. She had to be strong for them, and she was determined to do so.
There were the twins, Maggie and Monica, who no one except Angela could really tell apart; then was Eddie, a six-year-old Latino boy. His parents had left town before he could get home, leaving him abandoned at the school. Kendra was a special case; seven years old and she had been diagnosed as deaf at a young age. Fortunately, one of the adults in the compound had taken sign language in college and had taught Angela and Michael how to sign. They were a bit rocky, but Kendra had been able to pick up on what they were saying pretty easily.
Once the dinner plates had been stacked and placed in wash bins, Angela left Michael to tend to the children. After dinner, Angela sought comfort in grooming her horse. It helped to relieve the stress of living in this new world. She stepped into the building that had been converted to a stable and her horse, a large grey animal, stuck his head out over the door. Angela cooed softly to him. She'd named him Hercules for how muscular he was. When she was younger, she'd only ridden at pony rides or trail rides her parents surprised her with. She'd never taken lessons, but after the horses were discovered on an abandoned farm not too far from the compound, she decided to learn.
She reached up to stroke Hercules's forehead and the horse lowered his nose into her palm, sniffing for treats. He let out a loud sneeze, spraying Angela. She chuckled and wiped off her hands on her jeans before moving to the door. She attached his lead rope to his halter and led him out into the aisle. Hercules's had already been trained in ground-tying* so she let the rope drop. The building had one room that acted as the tack room. The farm where they'd taken Hercules and his three companions from had also been abundant in riding and grooming equipment, as well as food for the animals. The small room barely held three bales of hay as well as handmade racks for the two saddles and bridles. A small bucket of brushes sat on top of one of the bales. Angela picked it up, as well as a handful of hay to keep Hercules occupied. He was waiting patiently in the aisle and his perked up when she returned. She gave him a pat on the neck as she set the bucket down and pulled out the hoof pick. Hercules obediently lifted all four feet when she asked, and soon she was using the curry-comb on his coat.
When she brushed Hercules, she took her time, letting her mind wander away from what she was doing. What would she be doing now if the world hadn't ended? Would she still be teaching preschool? Would she have a boyfriend? Would she be married? The world had ended how long ago? Two months? Was that all it had been? It felt like ages that she and the children were out in the wilderness, surviving off roots and berries. What were her friends doing? Were they dead? Were they undead? Were they trying to survive, just as Angela was? Endless questions and possibilities swam through her head as she finished grooming Hercules's left side. Dropping the final brush in the bucket, she returned it to the tack room. After returning the horse to his stall, Angela heaved a hay bale into the aisle and gave each horse two flakes* of hay for the night. She swept up the small mess she'd made between picking Hercules's feet and the hay and then she left, closing the door behind her.
As she strode across the compound to her cabin, Fred ran up to her, a clipboard in his hand. She smiled at the man, and he returned it. He slid his glasses further up his nose as he reported the inventory.
Angela hummed in thought. "I think we need to ration the cold and sinus meds. Who knows how long it'll be before we can find a place with more? As for food, we're definitely going to need to pick up on some hunting skills. These kids can't go on just spam and whatever meatloaf we have left. So if anyone comes to you asking for cold and sinus, let them know that we need to ration them even further. Give them some of that rub you brought with you until we can find another convenience store. I had to clean the last one out completely."
Fred nodded, and then a somber look fell over his face. "What do you want to do about Gertie? She doesn't seem to be improving." Gertie, or Gertrude, was an older woman who'd come down with pneumonia after she'd caught a cold. Her condition hadn't improved since, and Fred and Angela were running out of ideas.
"She's not responding to the medication?" Fred shook his head sadly, emitting a sigh from Angela. "Then I'm not sure there's anything we can do. We'll just have to wait and pray she pulls through." Fred ducked his head and sighed. Angela set a hand on his shoulder and offered a small smile. He gave her a nod and turned to head back to his cabin. Angela watched his retreating back for a moment before giving a terse shake of her head.
The cabin she shared with Michael looked bigger on the outside. On the inside, there was hardly enough room for two single beds, and they'd had to share a nightstand. Michael was already lying in bed, reading a book he'd packed from home. He looked up as Angela walked in and immediately noticing the frown on her face.
"What's wrong?" he asked, politely looking away as she changed into sleepwear.
"Fred says Gert hasn't gotten any better. She's not responding to the medication we have, and he doesn't think she's going to make it." She tied her hair back and crawled into bed. Michael dog-eared his book and set it on his half of the nightstand, and then propped his head up so he could look at her.
"Well, you have to remember that we don't have the resources anymore to treat things like pneumonia. Just gotta let it run its course, for good or for bad, you know?" Angela nodded as she settled into the blankets. Michael reached over and doused the lights.
"I know, but it doesn't make this job any easier."
"Who said it would be?" A corner of Angela's mouth lifted up slightly at Michael's jesting tone, but she heard the underlying truth to it. No one said taking care of a hundred people would be simple, but if she didn't, who would? Aside from Fred, the compound was filled with former lawyers and big-business execs. Neither knew how to care for people, to make sure they were kept safe and fed. Angela stared up at the dark ceiling for a while, her mind too busy to let her catch any sleep just yet. She wasn't sure how she found herself in such a position to care for so many people, but she had to admit that it was at least one thing she'd done right.
*ground-tying: meaning a horse will stay put if the lead-line or reins are dropped on the ground and left
*flake: a "section" of hay in a bale; four flakes to a bale