Gary And I: The Survivors of Field Springs

The Apocalypse. Everyone’s heard of it, and though the details are vague and the chance of survival even more so, you can bet that everyone believes it’ll happen at some point. But when is some point? No one ever believes that such a world-changing disaster would ever strike in their lifetime. I didn’t believe it either. Until I did.

No one saw it coming. No one had the chance. One day, I was sitting on my skateboard, eating a popsicle, trying to fight off the August heat. Then the sky started falling. Literally. Thousands of meteors are crashing towards the Earth. Little did we know, the rocks had brought stowaways. News Flash: aliens are definitely real, and not at all friendly.

At first, we were all just confused. The government was having a field day with the craters that now speckled everywhere but Antarctica and a few stray islands. For a few months, the world thought that was the end of it. Then people started disappearing. New diseases tormented humanity. As for my town? Field Springs had become the home of two things: Zombie Syndrome and the Hive.

When I say Zombie Syndrome, I don’t mean walking dead with no brains trying to infect other civilians. I mean, grey skin, dull eyes, rotting bodies, destined to die. The disease was transferred by saliva, and there was no cure. Man, was I glad I didn’t have a boyfriend or anything in the beginning.

The Zombies, unfortunately, were the easy part. The thing that really sent people running was the Hive. The home of giant, poisonous, unfairly cute, and colorful space maggots. They had an insatiable hunger—those who weren’t eaten either fled or died of other causes.

This whole ramble leads to me. Now you may be wondering, how the heck did I survive? Simple, I got lucky. I’m fairly active and quick-witted, but what really gave me an edge was my observation skills. I noticed things others didn’t. For example, the space globs were controlled by the queen. They were an extension of her mind and received “orders” per se, from the antenna on their heads, which weren't much more than little nubs behind their bulbous eyes.

Those who survived the initial attack had to learn to survive. I taught others how to kill the space globs and skin a deer. They taught me how to run a garden or mend clothes. I actually thought things were going to be fine living off the grid. Can you believe how stupid that was? After a while, no one was left but me, me and a bunch of space globs.

The ironic part, as my neighbor always said – before he was eaten by a space maggot – was my name. Nova, star, new, whatever meaning you give it, it symbolized the extraordinary. Mr. Fisher always said that I’d pull the cosmos to us. I always laughed and politely told him I thought he was crazy. The old man died two months before the meteors, and now I can’t help but wonder if he was right. That maybe he knew all this was about to happen.

Sometimes I wonder who else survived. Sometimes I’m afraid I'm the only one left. I haven’t seen a single other living human being for five months, three weeks, two days, and twelve hours. Yeah, I’m counting. If you lived alone in a little mountain town, smack dab in the middle of Colorado, you’d be counting too. I mean, I live in a baby blue R.V. for goodness sake. My sanity is slowly fading into oblivion. Not really, but still, I think I deserve to be dramatic.

I sigh and toss a tennis ball at the ceiling again. After two years, there’s a considerable dent in the roof of my R.V. It’s raining today, so I don’t really feel like hunting. Besides, the only hunting store in town is almost out of ammo, and I don’t want to go down to Little Rock for more. A soft squishing sound catches my attention. I turn off the lights and peek out my blinds as much as I dare. Sure enough, there’s a neon yellow striped blue space maggot munching on the asphalt left on my road. Gary has quite the appetite for gray things. And yes, I named a deadly space-maggot Gary. Deal with it.

Since it was only Gary, I turned the light back on. He had been abandoned by his queen because she couldn’t control him. He was a survivor, like me. After a moment of consideration, I turned the light off again and slipped on a pair of grubby black combat boots and headed outside. I pulled my hood on before the rain could get in my eyes.

“Hi, Gary,” I said, “You know you should eat that stuff, right?” Gary looked over at me and took another bite of asphalt. I rubbed his side gently. He was the closest thing to a friend I had.

“I have to go to Little Rock tomorrow.” I told him, “Think you could give me a ride?” Gary huffed, which meant yes. I’d learned pretty early on that Gary and the queen could understand English but didn’t have the right vocal cords to speak it. Gary would’ve been the king of the space maggots if he’d won the fight between him and his sister. I’m glad he lost. I drew spirals on his peach-like skin, not knowing what else to do. Sometimes I wished he could talk; it would make my descent into insanity a lot less probable.

A roar in the distance pulled me out of my impromptu nap. I startled and fell off Gary’s back. What in the world was going on? Then I remembered that the spider-wolves were migrating again, and the space maggots hated them. I relaxed and stared up at the overcast sky, still feeling a little uneasy. Something was wrong. Then I realized that the roar had been intermingled with a scream. A human scream. I patted my cargo pants, checking to make sure I had my pistol and serrated hunting knife, then ran as fast as I could toward the center of town.

From a distance, I could tell that Juniper had picked a fight. Juniper was the princess of the hive, Gary’s sister. Her purple skin stood out like a bruise in the mall’s parking lot. I climbed up a strip of flat buildings interconnected with bridges that’d been built before we realized how big the space maggots could grow. It was the fastest way to the mall by far. I fired a panicked warning shot, adrenaline rushing through me. The slightest possibility that a human could be fighting Juniper made my insides buzz.

Juniper reared her giant head in pain; it seemed my shot had landed. By now, I was on top of the building right behind her. I shot another three bullets, relieved when they each hit their mark. She reared again, and I got my first sight of her target. I was right, there was a human, with a rifle, standing in the middle of the parking lot. And they were definitely panicking. A shot from the rifle brought Juniper’s attention back to the boy. That gave me time to jump on her back and run my knife down her side until I reached her head. I stabbed my knife into her brain. She roared and fell to the ground – as I held on for dear life – dead.

The boy, who couldn’t have been much older than I was, stared in shock. I casually slipped off Juniper’s head and stuck my hand in her ear. I pulled out a shiny jewel-looking thing, the core, and crushed it under my foot. Then I looked up at the boy.

“You have to do that,” I explained, “Or they’ll come back.” He nodded, rifle hanging limply at his side. The full weight of what had just happened suddenly came crashing down on me. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. The very presence of the boy in front of me made no sense. Thousands of questions raced through my head, so I started with the first. Gripping my knife tighter, I stepped toward him.

“Who the heck are you?” I asked. The boy seemed to regain composure at the question.

“I’m Callum,” He said, “I’m part of the survivors.” I laughed, almost hysterically.

“Aren’t we all?” I snorted.

“No,” he says quickly. “I mean—organized. Bases. Supplies. People. We’re looking for others.”

Callum, if that was his name, wasn’t a very trustworthy-looking person. He was covered in dirt, his clothes were patched and tattered, and his brown hair was greasy. Then I realized I probably looked as crazy as he did. People. The word feels foreign. Fragile. Dangerous.

“You could come with us,” he adds. “We have a van. And… snacks.”

I narrow my eyes.

“What kind of snacks?”

He smiles.

And for a second, something in my chest shifts—like a door I nailed shut a long time ago just… creaked open. I hate it. I really do. But I’m tired of talking to something that can’t talk back. Tired of counting days like they matter. Tired of being the only proof I exist.

“You better not make me regret this,” I say.

“I won’t,” he promises.

“What was your name again?” he asks.

I smirk. Did this guy seriously not realize I hadn’t even told him my name yet?

“Nova.”

I glance back the way I came, toward the road… toward Gary. The scared, vulnerable moment breaks when I see him. He’s chewing asphalt as if nothing happened. I rolled my eyes. Maybe having an alien best friend wasn’t the best idea.

“Let me grab my stuff,” I say. “Then you can show me this miracle van.”

As I walk away, something twists in my chest. I smile. Because even now, even with someone standing right in front of me…Part of me still feels like the girl who got left behind. I shake my head and trust that the feeling will fade. Eventually. Because for the first time in forever, I have hope that things will get better.