Personal Narrative: My Horse

My electric fence stopped working, for there is no electricity. I found out the evening of the day I woke up. House lights went out, electronics stopped functioning, vehicles wouldn’t start. ‘They had set off an EMP and now the world I know has been cast back into the dark ages.

I decide to go to the next city instead of my hometown. I’ll have a better chance of going unnoticed and a lesser chance of someone recognizing me. It takes me about an hour to get there, alternating between walking and a steady lope. My horse is in good shape and quite healthy for his age of 25. By looking at him, you can’t even tell that he is old or aging.

When I finally arrive, I can see the city has already been hit by catastrophe. It’s worse than it was yesterday

when I came to find out what was going on. That was when I found out about the Rebel Groups forming. Now, looking around, I see store windows have been broken. People roam the streets, looking desperate. They stare at me as I ride past and I get an uneasy feeling. There are several vehicles along the road that have been short-circuited by the EMP blasts. All around me are signs of havoc and fighting.

Heading towards the park, I see a huge crowd surrounding a group of tents. There must be at least 500 people there. All of them are males, from teenage boys to men. A few of the younger look battle-hungry, and are strutting around, eager to show off their stuff. Most seem unsure of themselves, probably worried about death. I’m not afraid of death right now. If I died, no one would miss me, unless Peter is still alive. But have no way of finding out.
Then there’s the scattered middle-aged and older men, who talk amongst themselves, engaging in what seems very important conversations. They seem like ‘ready-to-do’ people. Dismounting, I tie my horses to a bike rack next to a few other horses I predict belong to smart, well-prepared people who know what they’re doing. I join the crowd and push my way slowly to the front.

No one seems to notice me. Nobody gives me funny looks or asks if I’m a girl. I feel a bit proud of myself. To keep busy, I focus on watching how the boys my age walk and react. The better I can blend in, the less of a chance of anyone noticing anything at all.
Eventually, I find myself at the front of the crowd. It is very loud and I am being jostled at every angle. The men are raising their hands and yelling. I am feeling a little pressured. Looking ahead, I see three brown tents are set up. Underneath each one is a table with two men at each table. Each man looks tough and hardened, like they’ve had experience in combat and warfare. The way they hold themselves tell me that they must have been high-ranking, and are given a great amount of respect.

In front of the roaring crowd, they sit calmly and quietly, as if five hundred plus weren’t yelling at them. They aren’t angry yells, they are desperate yells, eager yells, wanting to get away from the new life they see, so they can fight. For what reason though?
Get the old life back? That’s not happening.
Revenge? Possibly.
After a table man is done with a recruit, he looks up, and the crowd yells louder.
“Take me!”
He scans the crowd and points to one of the males who walks to his table. Another man is finished and I desperately stare at the man in charge, hoping to catch his attention. I want to get out of this crowd immediately.
He makes eye contact with me and beckons me out.
Thank goodness!

I take a deep breath and walk to the available opening. Stepping up the table, I stand tall and upright.
“And what would your name be, boy?” the man asks, his voice rough.
“Ross Hansen,” I say, trying to harden my voice.
“How old are you, Ross?”
“15.”
He writes on a piece of paper in front of him and looks up at me.

His gaze studies me and I hold my breath. Please, don’t see I’m a girl.

“You look a little young, sonny,” he says.

Crap. I should’ve picked a different age.

“I can pull my own weight, sir,” I say.

“I’m sure you will. Do you have any experience with firearms?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve hunted and shot before.”

He nods, still looking me over, “Does you Pops know you’re here?”

“My parents are dead.”

“Ah, so we got a young man, bent on revenge, with nothing to lose.”

The thought of being rejected and turned away troubles me.

“Please let me join, sir. I won’t cause you any trouble, and I assure you I’ll-,”

He holds up his hand.

“What have you got that you can contribute?”

“Uh, I got a couple of good horses, and-,”

“Horses will do. Ross, boy, I expect to see you at the high school football field in the morning. You will be part of my squad. I am your squad leader, Stern’s the name. Will you be there?”

“Yes, sir! I’ll be there!”

“Good, see you then!” he gestures for the next person and I walk

away.

I mount Willow and take the horses out of town, away from the highway, on the outskirts of the city.

When I find a secluded place, I pitch camp, where I plan on staying for the next few weeks or months. When I’m finished, I grab my rifle and slingshot and head out into the woods, looking for some dinner. I’m a pretty good shot with a slingshot, and it isn’t hard to shoot. Plus, I can hunt without alerting anyone of my presence, whereas my rifle would let people know that I am here. It doesn’t take me long to find a pheasant that I killed silently with a stone. After starting a fire and eating the bird, I sit back and listen to the horses grazing around me. It’s nearly nightfall. I have successfully pulled off my disguise. I feel somewhat

accomplished.

But this is not even the beginning. Tomorrow, I will start my training, so I can make up for the horrendous night when I didn’t do anything. I screamed and ran like a coward. I would rather die fighting, like Charlie. My dear, brave Charlie.

A rustle in the brush startles my thoughts. I am not alone.