You don’t know that for sure. And even if he did have murderous intent, it still doesn’t make what you did any less forgivable. You killed a man, girl… killed him in cold blood without batting an eye.
There was a bit of loose change in one pocket, a half pack of cigarettes and lighter in the other. Angela had made it this far in life without smoking, she wasn’t about to start now with the world burning all around her. She would have to turn his body over to see if he had any identification in a back pocket. He was surprisingly light, but it didn’t make the grisly task any easier. There was no wallet, no identification. It didn’t much matter anymore; Angela went instead for the revolver handle sticking up from the pants waistband. The gun was dull black and cold to the touch. And it was heavy, much heavier than she expected a revolver would weigh.
Don’t even think it. Put that gun back, it doesn’t belong to you.
“I’m doing what you always wanted me to do, Dad.” Angela dropped the weapon into the pocket of her dress. It pushed down on top of the squished chocolate bars. She could feel the pressure of it pulling at the dress collar around her neck. “I’m not going to rely on others. With this I can protect myself… I can warn bad people away without hurting them.”
Killer.
Angela gnawed at her lip and crawled out through the window without answering. She moved in the opposite direction of the church, her eyes now unwilling to look back upon that bell. Dad’s right. He knows what I did, and he knows what I am. God knows.
You’re darn-tootin’ he knows. You ever stop and think in the last few days why you survived the blast? Don’t go believing for a single second it was some kind of divine intervention… Just the opposite, girl. It was Jesus-justified damnation. The only ones left walking the earth now are the corrupt, the sinful, and the lazy.
Angela let him go on while she made her way further into the suburbs. Surely more people had survived the attack. Most of the houses had been blown off their foundations, but a few were still standing; those nestled behind larger buildings, behind the churches, the shopping centers, and schools. Where had everyone gone? Why were they hiding from her?
Maybe they know what you’re packing in that dress. Maybe they know you’re a murderer.
Far away, a dog started barking. It sounded hungry and afraid. With no owners left to feed them, she wondered how long it would take before the animals turned on the remaining humans. Angela picked her way through back yards where green grass had turned to ash. She knocked softly on doors, but didn’t enter without permission. Trespassing was a sin—she’d learned that lesson the hard way. Stealing was another matter. Angela had taken what didn’t belong to her but had justified in her mind that it was alright to do so. It was only borrowing after all; she would pay it all back. She entered the North Kilpatrick Shopping Mall through a blown in display window of a sports wear store. This would be a good place to find something better to eat other than candy and soft drinks. And if there was anyone else to find still living, this was the place for that, too. She remembered the familiar radio ad—fulfill all of your shopping needs at North Kilpatrick Mall, where friends meet, and families grow.
Where were all the friends and families now?
People had been there since the bomb had dropped. As she worked her way from the sports store into the main plaza, Angela could see where they’d looted and ran. Most of the damage inside hadn’t been caused by the shockwave. Thieves had been busy smashing display cases, stealing cell phones and jewellery—for all the good it would do them. But where had they gone? She began to think that she’d wasted too much time cowering beneath her desk. The survivors had already found one another and moved on.
There was a bad smell in the air, like spoiled food. It got stronger as Angela made her way past the abandoned and emptied stores. There was a big Hudson’s Bay outlet at the end of the walkway. Maybe she would find someone there. The smell got worse. Angela had to plug her nostrils as she entered the store. And then she found the people she was searching for. Hundreds of them.
Dozens of display bins filled with clothing, cosmetics, shoes, and earrings had been pushed up against the far walls, leaving an immense space for dead bodies. Angela prayed that someone had gathered all the store mannequins and placed them there as some kind of sick joke. But even a shopping mall the size of North Kilpatrick didn’t have that many display mannequins to spare. These were people—men, women, and children—and they had been slaughtered. They had been herded into this open space and shot down. A few had gaping holes in their chests and stomachs, most had taken it square between the eyes. Angela was standing in the outer edge of an immense pool of blood. She stepped back and tried to wipe it away from the bottom of her shoes along some cleaner sections of white tile.
She started to gag and turned away, reaching for the gun in her pocket. She ran back the way she’d come, gasping for cleaner air and finding none. Angela staggered to a bench and vomited into the potted plant sitting next to it.
You don’t have much of a stomach for this kind of thing, do you?
She wiped her lips dry against her
