PROLOGUE
Year One after Impact
The cabin is way too crowded, so I set off on a hike in the morning with the excuse of foraging for food.
I mostly want to take a few breaths in peace.
The woods aren’t what they used to be. The trees are struggling from the climate upheavals over the past year. The weather has been thrown into chaos ever since the asteroid hit. The squirrels, birds, rabbits, and deer are just as stretched as the plant life, getting thinner, hungrier.
Only the carrion eaters are satisfied lately.
But even a hike on a gray morning through dying woods is better than sitting in a one-bedroom hunting cabin packed full of too many people. It felt crowded when there were only four of us—me, my sister, my mom, and my stepfather. Now there are ten.
Getting away is the only way to be alone.
A year and a half ago, I was Esther Hamilton. A freshman in college on an academic scholarship. I was making As in all my classes and had been accepted into a special summer program with NASA, Being an astronaut was my goal since I was twelve. Achieving it was always going to be a reach, but I was making progress.
Then, while I was home for spring break that year, the news broke that a large asteroid was heading toward Europe. Not an extinction-level event but the worst global catastrophe in human history.
I never went back to college. No one did. My family hunkered down in the small Missouri town where we lived, and we tried to survive. Our town made a good effort, but looters wiped out most of the food and supplies and gangs started forming, taking control of what was left.
So we ran. Retreated to my stepdad’s cabin, which is too isolated to be a target for raiders. Here we can fish in the river, hunt for food, and try to grow a garden. It’s been far safer than staying in town. So safe that extended family came to join us.
That’s why it’s so crowded now. I try not to complain because at least we’re all surviving in a world where half the population hasn’t.
But still…
It’s so incredibly crowded.
I desperately need some time alone.
When I left the cabin, my mom insisted I bring my gun. It’s small and easy to carry in the belt holster Zed rigged up for me. I know how to use it now, but I don’t much like it. I’ve never been a gun person. Even if I spot a deer or rabbit, I’m not sure it’s in me to shoot it dead.
I assume I’ll be able to muster to the will to hunt if we get hungry enough, but we’re not there yet. There are still a lot of fish in the river, so we’ve been okay so far.
Hopefully we’ll stay that way.
I scan the ground foliage as I walk, but the chances of spotting something edible are slim. I’m not a woodsman or a botanist or a village wisewoman with knowledge of herbs and roots. If I try to gather leaves and mushrooms, I might end up poisoning my entire family.
In a few months, I’ll be twenty years old. I should still be in college. I was finally starting to make a few friends, and I was a favorite with most of my professors. I had a chance to work with NASA. I was dreaming of being an astronaut. My life was good.
Now my primary goal in life is spending a couple of hours alone.
I wander around for a long time, having only a vague idea of direction or destination. I know I’m east of the cabin. As long as I can see the sun, I’m sure I’ll be able to find my way back.
Eventually I hear a low rumbling sound. It takes a minute to figure out it’s the river. I didn’t realize I’ve come this far, but it doesn’t matter. At least that gives me a landmark to follow.
As the sound of the river grows louder, I break out of the trees unexpectedly. The ground collapses under my feet.
That’s what it feels like anyway. The rocks and dirt are looser than I expect, and my foot slips down a sharp decline toward the rushing water.
I catch myself before I plunge headfirst into the river, but my ankle twists and I have to sit down hard to brace myself.
The jarring impact stuns me. I sit on my butt on the edge of the rocky slope and grip an exposed tree root to be safe.
My ankle throbs. My ass and head ache. I can’t seem to take a full breath.
I’m going to die alone on the bank of this river.
When my mind clears, I’m able to assess my condition more accurately, and I realize I’m actually fine. I twisted my ankle, but I doubt it’s too bad. Hopefully I can still walk on it. I’ll limp home and be more careful next time.
It takes five or ten minutes to muster the energy to haul myself to my feet. My ankle hurts like hell, but I am able to put weight on it. It’s not broken or even really sprained. It’s twisted, and that’s not the end of the world.
My stepdad, grandfather, and Zed are all fishing today. I waited until they’d gone before I left the cabin since one or the other of them—probably Zed—would grumble about my going off by myself. But right now none of that matters. If I follow the river awhile, I’ll run into them. That will be smarter than trying to hobble through the woods and back to the cabin on my own. So, holding on to tree branches and trunks, I shuffle my way along the line of the river, being careful not to slip back down the rocky descent again.
I hate, hate, hate getting injured. Not because of the pain as much as the helplessness. I’ve always been a self-sufficient person, and an apocalypse shouldn’t change that.
Of course, an apocalypse shouldn’t require quite so much sitting around for hours, bored and restless in a crowded hunting cabin.
I’ve been limping along the river for several minutes—not making nearly as much progress as I’d like—when something shifts in the air.
I have no idea what it is or what triggers the instinct in me, but my hands grow cold, and it feels like the hairs on my arms suddenly stand up straight.
Something is here. Hiding in the woods. I can feel it, although I can’t yet see it.
I take another step, searching my surroundings for whatever might be lurking, and I miss a step because I’m distracted. My good foot slips again, and I have to grapple to catch myself so I don’t slide down the bank.
Once more I sit down hard.
Damn it.
This is ridiculous.
I might never have been a natural athlete—I always hated community sports programs as a kid—but ever since I decided I wanted to be an astronaut, I made a point of staying in shape. I used to jog every morning even though I never liked it. I’m usually much more physically competent than this.
And there’s still something lurking out there in the woods.
I give my surroundings another scan before I get back to my feet. This time a motion behind me catches my attention.
I squint into the shadows of the trees until I recognize what I’m seeing.
It’s a coyote.
My crisis instincts immediately jump to full alert. I wouldn’t normally fear for my life around a coyote, but I’m alone and injured and on the ground right now. And that animal is obviously stalking me.
He’s probably starving like every other creature in these woods. Maybe he sees me as a meal too tempting to resist.
I pull out my gun slowly and point it in the coyote’s direction. I aim.
The animal looks like a dog. A pitiful dog, gaunt with hunger.
I can’t—I just can’t—pull the trigger.