In a small one room apartment on the outskirts of what had been Detroit only a week ago, a man lay face down on his dusty floor. Occasional gunshots rang out in the distance, usually followed by an explosion or two, but more often trailed with screams. Beside the unconscious man lay a syringe with a blood crusted needle, a blackened spoon and a lighter. He moaned from somewhere deep within the reaches of his mind, seeking to awaken once more so that he could fill his veins again. The drug induced haze had gone on for more than two weeks, yet to Darwin Jones, it seemed like only a few hours.
He'd awakened occasionally for a bite of food, usually in the form of canned soup or stale potato chips. Yet these interludes were basked with the thick haze of heroin and exhaustion. He'd fall asleep after eating, his sense of awareness drifting off, not completely understanding why he felt the need to eat or to use the bathroom. Upon awaking, he would simply crawl back to the middle of the floor and inject a little more of the fluid into his veins.
In the past two weeks, Darwin had rarely entered his right mind for more than an hour or two. And he'd fend of the reality with sleep or more drugs. It was a binge that took place at least once every year, sometimes twice and to Darwin it was a holiday of sorts. For one with immediate family or close friends, it was the closest thing to the joy others felt on true holidays.
Darwin Jones stirred silently on the floor, his senses regaining their grip with terrible clumsiness.
In his mind-numbing haze, he'd missed the fact that the world was at war again. Here and there the battles escalated, until suddenly bombs were exploding all across the United States. Had he been a little deeper into the city, Darwin would have undoubtedly been killed in one of the many blasts that tore through Detroit. Ironically, he spent most of his money on drugs and could not afford to live in what was now only a pile of rubble and bodies.
During his occasional lapsing from unconsciousness, he'd heard gunshots and explosions but didn't really take the time to register the facts. His mind was too far off to take anything literally.
A blast tore through the momentary silence.
Darwin rolled over, eyes closed tight.
All of the pleasure of his most recent hit had faded long ago and he was now swimming in shallow dreams as his body fought to regain its energy. He moved a hand to his forehead in an attempt to block out the light that poured through his only window.
Over the past few days the screams and gunshots had grown more distant. Had he been conscious, Darwin would have known that the raging battles were moving west. After all, there weren't enough survivors to utter such screaming any more. Most of the residents had evacuated the city, an even larger portion had fled the state to seek out sparsely populated land where the dangers were decreased.
The day slipped by and Darwin lapsed into a deep sleep. Throughout the night silence prevailed, sending his exhausted body deeper into his dreams.
When morning finally came, Darwin sat up slowly, moaning as he was forced to endure consciousness again. He blinked and looked around the room as his eyes adjusted to the hazy light that fluttered in through the dusty windows. Everything seemed just as he'd left it two weeks ago. The useless battered television lay on its side in the corner, his beat up old couch was still leaning unnaturally to the left where one of the legs had broken off and his cluttered sink was still piled with old dishes.
Darwin Jones stood awkwardly to his feet and made his way to the bathroom He staggered into the musty little room and flicked the light switch. Darkness remained. He groaned and flipped it up and down several more times, knowing that the power was clearly out again. He fumbled to the toilet and relieved himself in the dark, knowing that he was most likely missing the bowl completely, and not caring a bit. When he was finished, he reached blindly for the sink and turned the faucet on. The pipes groaned miserably, yet only a tiny burst of water escaped.
No water. No power. Darwin sighed and turned back towards the dimly lit doorway.
When he emerged from the bathroom, Darwin peeled open a can of chicken noodle soup and sipped it straight from the container. Slowly but steadily his mind was beginning to regain its composure as he was propelled back into reality. He silently crossed to the couch and emptied his pockets, hoping that there was enough heroin left for one more hit.
A sigh escaped his lips as he realized the baggy was still empty, just as it had been when he last shot up.
After a few moments of silence, Darwin reached over and flipped on the dusty old radio that lay at the foot of the sofa. His curiosity had risen and he wondered what day it was. He slid the dial back and forth finding only silence. A frown creased his lips as he slid the useless radio across the floor, remembering once again that there was no power.
His binge was complete, however, and that meant he'd have to hit the streets again for work.
A gunshot rang out.
Darwin glanced at the dust covered window and frowned. There was nothing unusual about shootings in his part of the city. Yet just when he'd begun to relax a string of shots pierced the silence.
Darwin jumped to his feet, recognizing the sound of automatic gunfire. That was certainly something he didn't hear every day.
He crossed over to the window and peered outside.
It took several moments for his mind to register what he was looking at. For miles there was nothing but smoke and rubble. Buildings lay in pieces on the streets, heaps of twisted metal and blackened automobiles were scattered amongst the wreckage.
Only a few buildings remained standing, smaller apartment complexes and random stores. But as he craned his neck he saw that his own building was torn neatly in half only a few rooms down from his.
Darwin fell to his knees, mind reeling.
"What's going on?" he mumbled incoherently.
A series of distant explosions echoed into his room, sending a shudder through his body.
He glanced at the overturned television and cursed himself for not having it repaired or replaced. Not that it would be much use to him anyways, at least until the power came back on. if it ever did.
He recalled the days before he'd entered his binge. As he roamed the streets seeking out his dealer, he'd heard rumors of an impending military struggle overseas. He'd even seen bits and pieces of news reports concerning the unrest on the other side of the continent. But he'd never imagined anything could lead to a disaster of the likes he was seeing now.
Memories began seeping in. Scattered through the haze of the past two weeks. Gunshots? Screams? Explosions? They all seemed so distant, like something from a dream. Could it have been real after all?
Darwin's mind seeped into a reservoir of memories and recollections as he stood silently before the dust covered windowsill. His mind slipped aimlessly through random childhood memories, working its way slowly to his current state, and how he'd managed to become an empty and addicted human being. He'd never really seen anything exciting in all his years, no more than a few tattered shreds of hope from girls, from work and from his own far-fetched dreams. In turn, he started seeking out new pleasures, something more solid and something that money could buy.
His initial bout into the world of narcotics had been simple and natural. He was barely sixteen, not even old enough to sit behind the wheel of an automobile. He remembered his best friend had something new and exciting, something that required simple ingestion to achieve all the feelings that life seemed so eager to hide.
From there it was only natural that Darwin took to drugs. He began stealing money from his parents, from his friends and even from himself in order to try new drugs. New experiences only brought him more questions and before he knew it, there was nothing that he'd not tried in his spiritual search for completion. Of course, looking back, it was not spiritual at all but a mere myth that always eluded him. Perhaps it would be put best to say that Darwin Jones had spent the better part of his life chasing unicorns in the sky.
Yet as time dragged by, reason began to grow clouded and it was no longer possible to enjoy life without some substance or another. When the streets were dry, Darwin took to cheap over the counter medicines. Anything to blot out the never-ending struggle of ignorance that had become his entire life. His parents knew something was wrong with their son, and turned to rage rather than reason, chasing him away from home forever.
At least, that was how he remembered it.
He'd dropped out of school soon after and became like most street urchins; hopelessly trapped in a downward spiral that would hopefully lead to a pleasant, painless end. Darwin's memories poured out, bringing him back a week before his latest binge. He'd been chasing up and down the streets in search of a large enough score to bring his next binge to reality. Yet for some reason things were turning up dry and Darwin had to resort to thicker means.
A local drug lord named Vincent had more than enough heroin, yet it was available at twice its worth. Darwin didn't usually deal with Vincent, he was too business like and far too serious about making sales and profits. Yet this time was different. He needed his binge to survive another couple of months, he needed to ride out a week or two in utter bliss or he would give up everything.
He met Vincent one morning outside the apartment complex.
Vincent was clothed in black from head to toe as were his two "associates" which were nothing more than hired thugs.
"Good morning." Vincent had said with a wry grin, knowing that Darwin was trapped and would have to meet whatever price was demanded.
Darwin nodded silently as he usually did in such situations.
"I hear you're in need of a rather large batch of H." Vincent said nonchalantly.
Darwin shrugged. "Not too large. A few grams."
Vincent smiled. "Well I don't sell small portions like that on most days." He heaved a sigh, "But today is Sunday, so I'll cut you a deal."
Darwin waited, knowing that the price would be ridiculously high. People like Vincent only dealed to large suppliers with large markets. The only reason he'd been able to arrange even a few short minute long meeting with the dealer was because he was a supplier to one of Darwin's usual dealers. Yet the market demand was growing just as fast as the price.
Vincent proceeded to rattle of a few short tales of the difficulty he'd overcome to attain his stash and then finally named a terribly high price. "Come by my office at midnight," he'd said, "And we'll make the exchange. Of course if the price is too steep."
Darwin shook his head quickly, "No, no. Midnight."
By ten o clock that night Darwin had borrowed a pistol and a few rounds from a friend, in hopes of taking the stash for no charge. He knew it was risky and failure would mean certain death, but such an end was preferable to not getting what he was after.
He arrived in deep downtown just before midnight, the loaded sidearm tucked cleverly beneath his jacket. A pair of husky looking guards were waiting on the corner of the dimly lit street.
They seemed to recognize Darwin straight away and led him upstairs without even the quickest of searches. Darwin breathed slowly and naturally knowing that one wrong move would be the end of his days.
Vincent sat behind a massive oak desk, reclined in his chair like a king on his throne. He smiled as the guards shoved Darwin into the room and left the two men alone.
"Welcome." Vincent said. "Have a seat."
Darwin sat down in the only other chair in the room and kept his gaze glued to the floor.
"I have attained your required load." Vincent said slowly. "I presume you have the cash."
Vincent wasn't the type of man Darwin liked at all. He was too smooth, too clean cut and far too professional to be in the drug dealing business. Everything about him spoke of careful planning and detailed articulation.
Darwin nodded and reached into one of the many pockets on his jacket.
"Wait." Vincent said quickly.
Darwin froze, his fingers resting on the pistol that he'd so cleverly concealed.
Vincent smiled pleasantly. "It's Sunday. I'd hate to have everything reduced to mere business. Let's have a drink."
Darwin shrugged and let his hand slide away from the pistol.
Vincent stood up and turned his back, reaching into a beautifully finished liquor cabinet. He spoke from over his shoulder, "Not much of a wine drinker, are you Mister Jones?"
Darwin shook his head, "No sir."
"But quite formal, none the less."
"I guess so, sir."
Vincent chuckled, "Indeed. Respect for the only man in town who can bring you the fix you require."
Darwin said nothing.
"You know there are six armed bodyguards throughout this building." Vincent said calmly. "Were anyone to try and back stab me. Well they wouldn't get out the door in one piece."
Darwin sat silently, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Not that you need to worry about that, Mister Jones." Vincent said with amusement. "Because, after all. today is Sunday." He spun around on his heels, one hand clutching a bottle of fine wine, another holding a bag of fine white powder. He tossed the back onto the desk and pulled a pair of wine glasses out from behind him with his free hand.
Darwin smiled.
"Ah yes." Vincent grinned easily. "Sunday." He sat back down and poured both glasses full with the red liquid. "The day of rest."
Darwin nodded impatiently, almost hoping he'd be shot or thrown out soon.
"Since it is Sunday, and I know you haven't got even half of the money you owe for this." Vincent nodded at the baggy. "I'll cut you a fine deal."
Darwin froze.
"Now, now, don't get all nervous on me." Vincent said. "I'm in an incredibly good mood."
Darwin said nothing.
"Take the stash. Enjoy it and pay me back in two months. I will require interest and you will be watched very closely until the debt is paid."
"But."
"No." Vincent cut him off. "I know that you do not have the money. I am being generous. Take it or leave it. But if you dare touch that weapon again, you will leave here in a bag."
Darwin found himself speechless. No doubt Vincent would double the price again, but then again, he could not leave alive without accepting the offer. "What if I can't raise the money in a month?" He ventured.
Vincent shrugged. "Then you die." He smiled calmly. "But then again, we all die anyways, don't we? Might as well die for something you love."
Darwin snatched up the baggy.
"Oh, and don't leave town." Vincent said. "We're watching. The only reason I'm doing this for you is because I feel incredibly generous on Sundays." Vincent paused and gulped down both glasses of wine, "Enjoy your prize, Mister Jones."
Darwin Jones blinked into the sunlight. A distant explosion brought his attention back to the current dilemma. Surely Vincent and his gang were long gone, probably shot dead in the streets during the initial attacks. His powerful grip on the lower regions of downtown Detroit was most likely shattered and pounded to dust.
Thoughts swirled randomly through Darwin's mind.
He had no idea what to think or how to react to the current situation. He would probably stand a poor chance in survival wherever he went, and further more, the very idea of venturing outside frightened him. Yet to stay would mean slow and certain death. His food supplies were harshly limited, his drug supplies were drained and the entire building looked as though it may collapse.
Darwin began wishing he'd overdosed. At least that way he would have met a calmer end.
A lone figure darted out from across the street, a rifle in one hand and a ragged backpack in the other. Darwin watched as the shadowy figure paused before breaking out of the shadows and into the sunlight. Whoever it was, they had seen the remnants of the building and thought it a good place to hide.
The figure vanished from view directly below Darwin's vantage point.
He'd come inside.
For a moment only silence prevailed, and then the sudden creaking of footsteps could be heard in the stairwell that lay just across the hall. The sound of the stairwell door creaking open caused Darwin to freeze entirely. Had he been seen standing in the window?
Footsteps slammed against the padded hallway floor, occasionally pausing as if to listen.
"Hello?" came a harsh whisper.
Darwin remained silent.
"Please, I know someone's here, I need help." The voice rose in pitch, distinctively female.
Darwin took a cautious step towards the door.
"Help me." the whisper seemed to be coming from directly outside his door.
Suddenly the door flung open and a ragged figure burst through the opening, only to collapse on the floor. Darwin looked down at the new arrival. A filthy and ragged young woman, no more than twenty-five years old. Her chest heaved up and down as she fought to catch her breath.
Darwin peered down, looking into the deep green eyes that seemed to shine out from the blackened face.
"I knew someone was here. I saw." She gasped for air, pointing at the window.
"Are you all right?" Darwin asked nervously. His eyes drifted to the smudged and battered rifle that lay beside her.
She sat up and nodded. "It's chaos out there," her breath seemed to be catching a more even rhythm. "I've been running for almost three days."
He crossed the space to the open door and pushed it closed.
She was rummaging through her bag when he turned around. "I'm Sylvia." she said curtly.
He shivered, Sylvia had been his mother's name. "I'm Darwin."
She chuckled, pulling a stale loaf of bread from the pack. "That's an interesting name."
He shrugged.
"So how long have you been hiding out here?" She asked.
He stared down at his feet, afraid to tell her that he hadn't even known of a war until only a few moments ago.
She frowned and glanced curiously around the room. Her gaze stopped at the syringe, spoon and empty baggy. "I see," she said. "So you've been trying to ignore this whole thing with your little drugs."
He shook his head slowly, meeting her gaze.
Her eyes widened, "Wait. You mean." She laughed aloud, "What a thing to wake up to."
He sat down on the couch and shook his head, "Yeah."
"Don't worry about it." She muttered. "I'm from around here too. I know how it goes. Buy some drugs, get all wasted, sleep it off and a few weeks later go make more money." She smiled at his surprised expression. "My .uh. brother used to do the same thing. Nothing new. I guess I just didn't think I'd meet up with someone who passed out through this whole mess."
He sighed deeply.
"Hey?" She caught his gaze, "Do you care if I use your shower?"
He shook his head, "The water's out."
She jumped to her feet, "Well you never know, maybe I can eek something out of the pipes."
He raised an eyebrow. "There's no power either. Its pretty dark in there."
She shrugged and snatched up his lighter, "I can manage."
He smiled vaguely, "Be my guest then."
She nodded, "One more thing," she gestured to the dusty window, "Cover that window. If anyone else sees us, we're dead."
He nodded.
Darwin sat on the couch listening to the sound of running water and the moaning of the pipes beneath the floorboards. So she'd actually managed to get some water after all. He hoped that he would have just as much luck when she finished.
Sylvia had been in the bathroom for almost an hour now. Undoubtedly cleaning her clothes and scrubbing a week's worth of dirt from her body. He almost felt relieved to be in the company of a fellow American, but in reality he was a little wary of people in general.
All his life he'd avoided friendships and serious involvement. The only acquaintances he had were those who could deliver drugs on time. And they never bothered to ask anything personal. In a way, he'd shut himself out intentionally, hoping that he could avoid any bothersome setbacks. He'd watched his mother wither away to nothing after the death of his father. He had no wish to leave anyone behind in such a state, because he knew that his days were numbered. Drugs were a dangerous business, every aspect brought newfound fear and worries into the situation. There was the risk of shootings, beatings, robberies, overdoses and of course, serious jail time.
He was never in any position to string anyone along for the ride.
The bathroom door swung open and Sylvia stepped out. Her once grimy black hair had taken on a shade of crimson, her bare arms and face shone with hint of gold. Even her clothes were spotlessly cleaned, although a little on the moist side.
She smiled, catching his full attention with her effortless beauty. "Thanks Darwin. I've been out there since it started. Not many working showers out there."
He nodded. "Are you in the army?"
She laughed slightly and sat on the carpet in front of him, her eyes drifting to the empty space on the floor where the needle had been. Darwin had cleaned up all hints of his degrading habit right after covering the window. "No, I'm just a survivor. I pulled this rifle off of a body not too far from here." She sighed, "I haven't had to use it yet. I don't think I even want to." She paused and locked eyes with him, "You probably don't even have a clue what's been going on in the world, do you?"
He shook his head.
"It started with a suicide bombing in Washington, four vans filled to the brim with explosives." She stared sadly into the distance. "The country was still in shock when the first two nukes went off, leveling a good chunk of Los Angeles and most of Manhattan Island." She shook her head and frowned, "I guess after that it was all down hill. We couldn't react fast enough to prevent the final wave of bombings, and within the space of a few hours most of our major cities were rubble. It all happened so fast..."
Darwin frowned, "Who did this?"
"Terrorists." She shrugged. "As far as I know, we haven't even figured out who exactly. The attacks were so close together, they threw the whole country into chaos within days." She sighed, "After the bombings came the riots, whatever the terrorists had left standing was quickly torn apart by our own people. Everyone was angry and frightened; our troops couldn't react in time to quell the riots. Right now there are mostly pockets of gang controlled areas and ragtag militias. They kill pretty much anyone they see, including civilians. There are also small army strongholds here and there, supposedly offering shelter to stragglers like us."
He found himself enthralled by her lips. The way they formed each word with precision and ease. The way they were shaped so perfectly. It had been a long time since Darwin felt the need to notice women. His attentions were always fixed on the next hit or the gathering of resources to afford the next hit.
"What about the rest of the world?" Darwin asked.
She shook her head. "There hasn't been any foreign intervention as far as I know."
"So what now?" Darwin asked.
"We run." She replied. "Find an army stronghold and pray they don't shoot us on sight."
Darwin frowned, a distant look in his dark eyes. Now more than ever, he wished he'd overdosed. Strangely, had he known of the impending war or even guessed at the disaster that had struck, Darwin would have surely overdosed intentionally. In a way, his drug induced haze had only succeeded in bringing unavoidable reality closer than ever.
"What is it?" Sylvia asked, noticing his blank stare.
"I don't know." He mumbled. "This is just. too much."
"Well there's no getting around it, Darwin." Her voice darkened. "We've been dealt a bad hand, its up to us to play it out."
He stared back.
"Tomorrow I'm moving on." She said. "You can come or stay, that's up to you. If anyone finds you here, they'll probably shoot you without warning."
Morning came all too soon. Darwin had spent the night on the floor, offering his beaten old sofa to Sylvia. Yet no sleep came, instead a dull haze of dreamless silence swept in. All through the night he found himself staring into the back of his eyelids, contemplating death and the insignificant hope for life.
When the sun finally broke through the sheet that hung over the window, Darwin was all too eager to do something. He just didn't know what it was. He could stay and brave out his last few days or he could run like a hunted animal.
"Good morning, Darwin." Sylvia said into the silence.
He turned his head and saw that she was sitting upright.
"I'll be out of your hair in five minutes." She said. "Unless you want to come along."
He stared back silently. He didn't want to die alone. In all his years of drug addictions he'd stayed alive only because of that one factor. He did not want go alone, unnoticed. Yet he didn't want to bring anyone to pieces as his father had done to his mother so long ago. It was selfish of him to even consider leaving with Sylvia.
She jumped to her feet and slipped into the bathroom without a word.
A moment later she reappeared and gathered up her pack and rifle. "Goodbye, Darwin. It was nice to have met you." she said solemnly.
"Wait." he said.
She turned, giving him her full attention.
"Where are you going anyways?" He asked.
"Anywhere." She replied without hesitation. "Maybe I'll find help. Maybe I'll die running. Either way, I'm going to try."
He nodded. "All right, I'll go."
She smiled, "Good for you. Now lets move out."
They left the building, sneaking through the shadowy wreckage that lay in all directions. Occasional gunshots rang out, but they all seemed to be far off in the distance. After only an hour, Darwin was panting with utter exhaustion.
Sylvia paused, "Do you need to rest?"
He nodded.
She sank to her knees and gestured to the ground, "Have a seat then."
They rested in silence as Darwin caught his breath.
"You know," Sylvia said in a hushed voice, "Its nice having some company."
He smiled weakly. "Yeah."
"I've been doing this alone for too many days." She said. "Every time I meet up with someone, they're going the other way or they're practically dead."
He shrugged, "And I'm not?"
She raised an eyebrow.
"I guess I've always felt like I'm on the brink of death." He said quietly.
"Take a look at yourself, Darwin." She replied. "I don't think you're dying. Had you stayed behind it would be another story. But now, now you're trying to survive. Now you're living."
He stared back thoughtfully.
The silence was broken by a sudden roar of gunfire.
Sylvia jumped to her feet. "That was too close. Lets move."
Before they'd even made it four paces, gunfire erupted from all directions. Sylvia pulled Darwin down into the mud as bullets tore through the air all around them. She tapped his shoulder and pointed to the north, "Look."
Two billowing American flags rippled in the wind just behind a heap of wreckage.
"An army base?" He asked.
"Looks that way. Even if it's just a single army troop, it could save our lives." She said anxiously. "But someone seems to be blocking us."
"Who?" Darwin asked.
She shook her head, "I'd guess it's a gang or militia of some sort, they're clustered all around here from the sound of it. Picking of stragglers like ourselves for trying to get to safety."
Darwin cursed under his breath.
"Like I said, its chaos out here. Everyone shooting everyone."
He glanced around, the gunfire had died down, but he could still hear the clanking of bullets and cartridges not too far off. He stared back at the flags, a dirty trail wound up from their current position and through the wreckage, seemingly to the American base.
"If we can get through, we'll be safe." She said. "That base wouldn't be there if it wasn't well guarded."
He nodded.
"Lets run for it." She said with a grin. "It can't be more than ten yards."
Darwin gulped.
"Don't worry," she said. "We've got a lot of cover. We can do it."
He nodded uncertainly, his heart pounding away.
She took his hand and locked eyes with him, "Don't stop for anything, Darwin Jones."
And then they were off.
As they ran, bullets slammed through the air all around them, colliding with rubble and broken concrete. The run seemed to take forever and Darwin found his mind wandering. He'd never told Sylvia his full name. Odd.
They rounded a corner of rubble. The American base leapt into full view. A massive cluster of tanks, gunmen and steel buildings. He could see the gates open slightly, ready for their arrival. Safety lay only seconds away.
Sylvia had slipped behind him. Her feet pounding on the mud with utter determination.
Darwin risked a glance back just as a bullet caught her across the chest. Blood shot up in all directions and her eyes went dull.
"NOOOO!" Darwin screamed.
As she toppled to the ground, Sylvia managed to fling her battered old rifle through the air. Darwin reached out and caught the weapon without breaking stride. The feel of the ruff wooden rifle butt and the cold barrel sent a strange feeling of comfort through his terrified bones.
Sylvia continued her descent in slow motion, and her pale lips formed a single word, "Run."
He cursed his cowardice and picked up his pace, leaving her crumpled body behind.
The gunfire stopped as he tore through the partly opened gate.
Soldiers surrounded him in seconds, sweeping their hands over him in search of treachery. The rifle was pulled roughly from his hands, disappearing in the cluster of soldiers. At first glance they appeared to be a rag tag band of US soldiers, each garbed in tattered green fatigues and armed to the teeth. But upon closer inspection, Darwin realized that these weren't American soldiers at all, the fatigues bore no insignias and they each carried a different set of grime covered weapons. A few of the soldiers gripped what appeared to be army issue pistols, but they'd clearly pulled them from the corpse of some fallen soldier.
A burly officer approached, "Welcome to safety, friend." He smiled, "You did well."
Darwin turned around, "Sylvia. She might still have a chance."
The officer frowned, "Who?"
"Sylvia. She." Darwin looked back, seeing the ground empty where her body had fallen.
"Son," the officer said uneasily. "We've been watching you for almost a mile. You've been alone the whole damn time."
Another officer stepped forward, clutching Sylvia's rifle, "I think he's talking about this old thing."
Darwin swallowed hard and starred at the rifle. There was something carved into the wood.
The soldier thrust the weapon into Darwin's arms. "Here you go, kid, I guess you can keep her."
Darwin looked down at the rifle and gasped. The word SYLVIA was carved into the wood, just as he'd remembered it. It was his father's old hunting rifle. He remembered his father carving the name of his beloved wife into the side of the rifle for luck. Years ago, Darwin had stolen it from the old man and pawned it off for drug money.
"Welcome to the club," came a familiar voice. "Darwin."
He looked up, recognizing Vincent, the cunning drug lord who'd provided his last binge.
"We've been holding up here for a while now," Vincent was saying, "We're the closest thing this city has to an army."
Darwin scarcely heard him speak. His eyes wandered to where Sylvia had fallen and he shivered violently. The realization struck. Had he known his mother in her younger years, she would have been the spitting image of the girl who'd led him to safety. He clutched the old rifle to his chest and a warm feeling washed over him.
Copyright © 2002 by Dave VanOsBio:dave vanos is a 22 year old writer from western michigan who enjoys the art of storytelling and hopes for a future in print. when he isn't writing, dave enjoys spending quality time with his guitar.
E-mail: davevanos@prodigy.net
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