Aftermath: Into the Unknown (Love and Survival) by Lena Gibson follows sheltered, resourceful Robin and disillusioned biker Kory as they trek 800 perilous miles through a ravaged America—battling danger, trusting each other against all odds, and racing toward the bunker city that may be their only chance at love and survival. Below is an excerpt from the novel.

Chapter 1: Robin

Robin’s youth ended three years ago when the asteroid smashed into the Earth. Everything she’d taken for granted in her previous life was gone. To survive, she had additional responsibilities—such as scavenging for food and taking care of her grandfather. She looked around her sparse surroundings and a sense of unease crept over her as she finished dressing in the cold, windowless room.

The odor of wet concrete overpowered the smell of her meager breakfast, while the shadows where the light from her flickering candle didn’t reach seemed ominous. The feeling persisted while she ate. Something nagged at her, something more than the regular struggle for survival.

Maybe it had to do with the numerous flocks of geese flying south yesterday. The changing seasons lent urgency to her daily errands. It might be autumn, but with winter
imminent, she had further preparations, so she and her grandfather didn’t starve. She glanced over her shoulder to where he still slept. Time to go.

Poking her head through the small crack she’d made opening the door, she scanned the almost dark, empty parking garage on the P3 level under the Towne Square Mall. She dashed out from the secure windowless room she now called home and headed for her shortcut upstairs. Afterward, she’d proceed outside for a gathering excursion in town.

Robin peeked around a cement column on P1. It was lighter here than on the gloomy lower levels, and she stared at the rust-flecked, sky-blue door across the final stretch of gritty pavement. This last open expanse before the stairs was the most nerve-wracking. Only the faint drip, drip of water, and the faint sound of her breathing met her ears. Waiting for the pounding of her heart to subside, she glanced back the way she’d come. If someone saw where she came from, she and Grandpa could lose their secure hideaway—they didn’t have the strength to protect it, so she was always careful.

Her pulse normal, Robin dashed the last fifty yards along the cement wall toward the blue metal door—another quick check. Nobody else was around. With the key clutched in her sweaty hand, she inserted it into the lock and eased the door open. The interior was as black as the inside of her eyelids, but she didn’t flick on her lighter until she’d closed the heavy steel barrier.

Lighting one of her two half-candles, she climbed the stairs by its amber glow, careful not to clink her backpack against the metal rail. She always listened for out-of-place sounds—people might be anywhere—but there was nothing. Still, best to play it safe.

On the top landing, she opened the door with the same key, closing it with a faint click as she stepped into the windowless hall that connected the mall service areas. With no natural light, there would have been total darkness without the warm glow of candles that lit a path for her quiet feet. There was less chance of discovery here, but the most dangerous part, the mall itself, was ahead.

Last fall, she’d discovered the desiccated corpse of the security guard in the main concourse, still clutching his key ring. That gruesome find had opened up a world of possibilities. The keys allowed Robin and her grandfather access to little-known places in the mall they’d never have found otherwise. It had surprised her how much space was behind the scenes and not intended for the public. The stock rooms had been incredible treasure troves.

The air in the hall was warm and stale, but not a concern as she walked, the smoke from her candle the most pervasive scent. She hadn’t been upstairs for a few days, but it appeared undisturbed. One needed keys to access this hall, and as far as they’d been able to determine, they had the only set. Several locked doors branched off in either direction, but there was no point in opening them. She and Grandpa had already cleaned out anything useful.

She turned left, heading for the exit at the other end, ignoring the openings in this section. There had been little of value in the old kitchens and prep rooms on the right, behind the food court. Without electricity or refrigeration, most of the food had spoiled long before they’d arrived. They’d eaten the remaining cans last winter. Some offices upstairs had held surprising treasures, such as stashes of stale candy, a handgun with half a dozen rounds of ammunition, and a bottle of whiskey. Grandpa had savored the amber liquid, a tiny glass at a time, eking the alcohol out over several months.

The two of them had lived in the parkade below the Boise Towne Square Mall for close to a year now.

At the end of the dusty hall, the pale glow emanating from the main concourse shone through the window inset in the last door. Beyond this lay the section of the building where anyone could have wandered around, long ago. This mall had been, like many others, scattered across the country, filled with high-end clothing shops, designer handbags, and jewelry stores that suited a lost lifestyle. Most of the merchandise had little value now. Well, diamonds and gold might be worth something, but she’d need to interact with people to find out, and that was a situation they avoided.

Robin laughed aloud, the sound startling her as it echoed through the confined space. Three years was now long ago—a different life. Not that there were many people left in Boise since the final evacuation order. Or Idaho, it seemed. Once the military had pulled out, it had gotten quiet.

Here in the city, they’d seen half a dozen sets of travelers in pairs and a few family groups at a distance on separate occasions. There’d also been a few additional lone wanderers on the road since leaving the farm. Gangs and convoys were the greater danger. Several had come, but luckily they were just passing through.

She grabbed the plastic milk crate she left stationed by the door, climbed up, and peered through the window. They’d seen no one else in the mall, but twice they’d encountered people close to the Walgreens up the street. She preferred to avoid that part of town if possible, making this shortcut useful. As pickings became slimmer, it was only a matter of time before others risked the upscale mall, even if it contained few shops carrying practical items.

Looters had targeted and gutted the big box stores in the early days of the apocalypse. Opportunists had grabbed the alcohol, junk food, and valuable items first. The next wave had been more practical. People had taken non-perishable food, equipment from sporting goods stores, and everyday medicines—things now in short supply, unless you knew where to hunt.

By the time Robin and her grandfather had left his farm, those stores had been stripped of anything useful. Still, they’d made do by thinking on a smaller scale. She and her grandfather hadn’t boarded up the smashed plate glass entrances of the mall. Instead, they’d lowered the security grates and dividers where possible. The barriers wouldn’t hold back someone determined to enter, but they made the Towne Square look closed and inhospitable, discouraging the casual intruder.

She watched for several minutes before determining that the coast was clear. No sign of movement and no strange sounds. She jumped down, returned the crate to its storage position, and unlocked the door. Taking a deep breath, she slipped the key into her right pocket and checked she still had the second one she needed—an inside master key, which provided access to the individual stores of the abandoned mall.

She blew out her candle and shoved the door open, relying on natural light filtering in through the dirty overhead glass. The leafcovered roof over the food court proved it hadn’t seen maintenance in a long time. Despite living under and exploring the mall for a year, she and her grandfather tried not to disturb it, allowing dust to settle everywhere. She stuck to the edges by the wall where they’d made a footpath so they didn’t leave obvious footprints.

Still in a reflective mood, Robin worked her way toward the far mall exit, considering her life. Not everyone could pinpoint the pivotal moment when they’d transitioned from teen to adult. For some, it might have been losing their virginity to a high school sweetheart, graduating, or leaving for university. Those were typical landmarks that separated childhood from adulthood and responsibilities. None of those things had happened for Robin.

Before the asteroid, this change would have been gradual, but in one fell swoop, civilization had died and obliterated her innocence. She’d been one week from high school graduation and had secured a full scholarship to Yale university. Then the chunks of NR 2025 collided in a series of destructive strikes across North America, changing her life forever—so much for a lifetime of straight A’s. In the end, they hadn’t mattered. She should be bitter, but there was no point. Everyone had lost everything normal.

After the asteroid, she’d become just another survivor. And she’d like to keep it that way.

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