Tommy and I entered the master bedroom and I winced at the smell and the site. The woman was in bed, hands folded, like she might as well have been in a coffin. She looked peaceful enough, but her face was sunken, almost falling in. She wore what I would guess was her Sunday Best summer dress, her gray hair splayed out behind her head, and a slight smile on her lips. I'd never seen a dead person before this shit all went down, and now I’ve lost count. My dad never even took me to an open casket funeral. He thought it was pointless. He had my mom cremated - the last image I have of her is her hair flying behind her as she took a nose dive. Memories of my last nightmare of her came rushing back. I couldn’t help but think that any moment now this old lady was gonna spring to life, baring her teeth and reaching for me.
I looked at the mess named Eugene Forrester on the other side of the queen size bed. He had pointed the gun at his face while lying down, so everything exploded behind him through the bed, which was good, it saved us the brainy mess on the wall shit. But it didn’t leave him with much of a face. With any face, really.
The gun lay across his head, his arms splayed out like they just fell to his side. A dark spot grew from his crotch, his body having gone into full release mode after he died. It didn’t help the smell. I had to do something.
I went into the bathroom and came out with a towel. Unfolding it, I draped it across the guy’s head. I couldn’t help but notice the flecks of white bone, the darkness of the blood, the exposed muscle. I dropped the towel as quickly as I could, covering all that mess up.
Across from the bed stood a dresser, and beside that a gun cabinet, standing as tall as me, a solid oak cabinet with a glass front.
“Shit,” Tommy said. “It's locked. How we gonna get it opened?”
I looked at him and unshouldered my M16. One swing and the glass shattered. I looked back to him. Dumbass.
I reached inside and pulled out another shotgun, a bolt-action rifle, and two pistols – probably forty-fives, but I really didn’t know shit about guns. Underneath the cabinet were several drawers full of ammo.
“How we gonna carry everything?” Tommy asked.
“With this?” came Louie’s voice behind us. He tossed several army rucksacks and packs at us. “This stuff is awesome!” He smiled as he wore an old world war two helmet on his head – twice his size.
I smiled. “Nice job Louie G.” I tossed a backpack to him. “Pack it up. I’m gonna check on Ashley.”
I returned to the boy’s room. Ashley still sat on the bed, but her crying had calmed down. “You ok?” I asked, sitting next to her. She put her head on my shoulder – well, the middle of my arm. I wrapped my arm around her.
“I tried to kill myself,” she whispered. “Right before I left. Took some pills. A lot of them.”
What do you say to that? Sorry? I couldn’t think. “What kind?” I said finally.
“Tylenol.”
I couldn’t help it. A snicker escaped. Tylenol? Are you kidding me? I take five for a bad headache. “How many?”
“Thirteen.” Ok, so that was a lot. But seriously, Tylenol? I snickered again. “It’s not funny,” she said, tearing up again.
“No, it’s not. It’s just that…I dunno. That seems kinda lame for a suicide attempt. I think ol' Eugene over there's got ya beat."
She didn't respond, so I pressed on. "Did you really think it’d do anything?”
“I didn’t really want it to. I just wanted to scare my parents.” She stood up, embarrassed and pissed. “It was stupid. Let’s go.”
I grabbed her hand. “No, no, it wasn’t stupid. Did it work?”
“Obviously not – I’m still here.”
“No, I meant did it scare your parents?”
She looked away. Quietly: “they never noticed.” She went through the door and left. I nodded to myself, looking at my cross. I knew what that felt like.
We grabbed a ton of MRE’s, some blankets, all the water we could find, and his oxygen tank, which weighed a TON. I had to strap it on through the backpack, which made it a little easier to carry, but not much. By the time I had the pack on, I needed a hit.
I looked around at the other three. Each had a different size pack on, each pack stuffed to the max. The sun was just setting outside, the flames of the forest fire getting nearer. Ashley looked out the front door and saw the smoke billowing up. “Can we outrun it?” she asked.
“If we leave now. Not much wind. We should be ok.”
The four of us stood in the empty living room, a scene from American history that could’ve existed in the Smithsonian. Should’ve, probably, because none of this meant anything anymore.
Ashley touched my hand. I let her hold it. “Let’s go.”
As the sun set, we pushed through the door, down the steps, and across the front lawn, continuing our pilgrimage on foot on the dark roads around America.
PART II – JULY
PITTSBURGH
You stay here, I'll go look for bread.
And if I can some sugar for the kids.
Dry your eyes, I'll be all right.
I know where they've laid the mines.
16.
It took us over a week to go a hundred miles. Traveling by day was practically impossible, with the heat reaching one-fifteen every day. Dry – no moisture in the air anywhere, and which, combined with the decreased oxygen, made it even harder to breathe. At night the temperature plummeted to around thirty degrees. Our bodies were on a climate roller-coaster, and it was starting to show: Ashley had a cold that wouldn't go away. I waited in dread for someone to catch a fever that would lay them out. Hoped it wouldn't be me.
Travelling from dusk to dawn, when the temperature returned to something somewhat normal, we had a tough time seeing everything in our path with just a torch. We travelled along a stretch of I-76, the Pennsylvania turnpike, along with various groups of people from all over. As we neared a city, the number of wandering travelers increased, and they all looked the same: huddle together, hoodies up concealing their faces, someone in the group limping, someone in the group crying. The groups never interacted. We had formed our own micro-countries, and wanted to keep it that way. It’s been two weeks since the EMP hit, and it’s taken half that time for our social structure to disintegrate.
Abandoned horses gave us a break from the constant march, allowing us to ride along a straight stretch to another tunnel in relative comfort. The horses still showed muscle and rode well, but something in their eyes told me they knew this was the end. I wondered if they knew how valuable they had become. So many things we took for granted, now the most precious items.
A huge sign blared "No Hazardous Material" allowed in the tunnel as we rounded a bend. Turn headlights on. Remnants of things never to be seen again: headlights reflecting off of signs, the dull, hazy glow of city lights in the horizon. The movement of cars, airplanes, helicopters. The ever-present background noise of machinery so quiet it almost seems like a part of nature.
All of that – gone.
Tommy snapped me out of my thoughts. "Hey," he said. "Sun's coming up."
We dismounted the horses in front of the tunnel – the last one before Pittsburgh - and prepared to set up camp for the day. Enclosed areas still provided the best shelter, even though they got stifling hot. We had enough oxygen to last the day, despite our occasional hits becoming longer and longer, especially with Ashley already plugged up from her cold.
Tommy walked the horses down the side of the mountain a little ways to get them into shade. He tied them to a tree and they nibbled at the drying grass hungrily. I scanned the area looking for water for the horses, but there wasn’t anything around. There was a river up ahead, our map told me, but that was still a few miles away. Tomorrow. We'll get water tomorrow.
Tommy had the first watch to guard the horses, and just before heading into the tunnel I saw him crouch down under a tree cradling his dad's rifle. He hadn't had to use it much; just having it seemed to ward off any potential thieves. But between wild dogs and
desperate people, it's a wonder we've kept the horses this long.
I went into the tunnel and found a convertible for Ashley, although the top was up. It took Louie and me everything we had to lower it manually, but once we did Ashley climbed in, curled up, and fell asleep almost immediately.
Louie and I found an SUV with two rows of back seats that we could sleep in, only a few cars ahead of Ashley. We opened up all four doors to let in the air, but it didn’t help much. Heat poured out of the walls like gas in a gas chamber. Another sweaty, sleepless night (day) in the backseat of a car.
I dreamt I was on a beach, my back to a monstrous cliff. The waves rolled in and out, and a bird circled high over head. My dad always told me never to focus on the images of the dream – focus on the feelings they invoke. If you train yourself, you can wake up with those feelings, and that’ll tell you a lot about what’s going on in your subconscious.
I must be feeling pretty fucked.
The morbid feeling of doom created a strong desire to go into the water, to drown myself. To sleep forever. I could almost feel the calm and peaceful rest. Then, in the dream, I heard crying behind me. A sobbing, manly and deep - the kind of crying no man ever wants to hear. I turned, and saw a long, red car on its top, nearly buried in the sand, one wheel still spinning. The crying came from behind the car.
I approached the front bumper, edging my way around. The sun glinted off the chrome, making it hard to see. I shielded my eyes, and I saw my father, one of his hands on the back of a woman’s body as she laid face first in the sand, also nearly buried.
It was my mother - but her hair was darker. My father looked up at me, eyes red and swollen, and sneered. “Why didn’t you save her?” he said. Then he shouted it, “WHY DIDN’T YOU SAVE HER?” He reached down and moving his hands underneath her body, he lifted her up.
I didn’t want to see him turn her over. I tried to turn away, but my neck stiffened up.
“You could’ve saved her,” he said through his tears. I looked at the body, drawing myself closer despite the fear growing inside like the warm spread of brandy I used to steal from my dad’s liquor cabinet. There was something familiar about the face. It wasn’t my mom.
It was Marilyn.
My dad brushed away the hair from her face. He laid her down. She was still breathing – short, raspy, barely audible, but she was alive. My dad stood over her and suddenly had Tommy's rifle in his hand.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?” I shouted. “She’s still alive!”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “She’s suffering. She has to be put down.”
“She’s not a fucking horse, Dad!” I ran to him to stop him, but my feet would barely lift from the ground. Suddenly he was yards away. I couldn’t move fast – everything else moved at normal speed except my running. I crawled at the ground to try and pull myself faster. I couldn’t.
The crack of the rifle shot bounced off the cliffs and sent hundreds of seagulls flying.
I woke up in the car. Louie shot up from the seats behind me. “What was that?” he said. My dream? Did he hear it? Where the hell was I?
The crack of a rifle shot. Another one. Not my dad's. For real. I looked at Louie. Louie G.
Car.
Tunnel.
Tommy.
I bolted out of the car just as the rifle roared again. Ashley crawled out of her car and met us at the tunnel entrance. I had my machine gun with me, and fumbled with the safety switch. Down the hill to our left Tommy stood near the horses, his rifle raised and aimed at something I couldn’t see. I raised my gun too, but didn’t have a shot at anything.
“Tommy!” I shouted. “What is it?”
“Dog. A big. Fucking. Dog.”
I could barely make out his silhouette in the shadows of the dusk. He raised the gun and took one more shot, but the dog dodged just before he pulled the trigger. The metal clip sprang out of his rifle. He was empty. “Tommy!” I yelled at him. I ran towards him. As I got closer I saw the animal, larger than any dog I’d seen, baring fangs from its foaming mouth.
The dog jumped at him, and I fired a random shot in its direction. It dropped like a lead weight. I couldn’t have done that. I think I fired at the top of a tree. Plus the dog fell the wrong way – the shot came from somewhere else.
I reached Tommy, whose shaking hands slowly lowered the rifle. “Jesus,” he whispered. “Holy shit, that was close. Nice shot.”
“It wasn’t me,” I said.
“It was me,” came a voice from the forest. A few seconds later, a guy in full camo gear came out to the clearing where Tommy and I stood. “Staff Sergeant James Tolbert. First Infantry Division, Charlie Company. Nice to meet you.”
He offered his hand. He looked my age, early twenties, no later than twenty-five, and fit his outfit like a poster boy for “Army Strong”. I shook his meat-hook of a hand, and eyed up his sniper rifle.
“Holy cow, is that a PSR-9?” Louie exclaimed from behind me. He came around and I swear startled fondling the rifle.
“Yeah, you know your weapons,” Tolbert said.
“Call to Duty, Special Ops version. Wow. A real army dude.”
Tolbert didn’t look too fond of being fawned over. He introduced himself to Ashley, Tommy and finally to Louie, who he practically had to shove away from him. Tommy straightened himself up, trying to match the guy in machismo.
Something about Tolbert - I couldn’t say what – annoyed me. I shrugged off the first notion of jealousy. That’s bullshit – I mean, this guy could really help us. I'm no fucking leader. Let him run the show.
“Where’s your unit?” I said, hoisting my machine gun back over my shoulder. I turned to walk back to the tunnel as he answered.
“Dunno. We got broken up about five clicks east of here early yesterday morning. Been looking for them ever since.”
“Broken up?” Ashley asked.
“Yeah, we met some organized resistance near Johnstown, a local militia. Heading west, one of them said. Something about the second coming. We took one prisoner and forgot about it. Just another group of rebels, we thought. But they were different – trained, almost. They knew flanking maneuvers, two by two cover formations, it was eerie. Someone was definitely pulling their strings, organizing them. We never saw who. Once they split us up they disappeared. I headed west to follow them, but I’m not sure if anyone else did.”
We stopped in front of the horses. “We’re heading west, too,” Tommy offered. “I was thinking we’d try to stay ahead of them, or at least, ya know, on the same level. Then outflank them and do a pincher move.” He was thinking? He didn’t even know what the fuck he was talking about. Tolbert just smiled.
“Sounds good. Mind if I follow?” Tolbert asked.
“No,” Ashley responded.
“Yeah, sure!" Louie agreed and pointed to Tolbert’s sniper rifle. “You got an extra one of those?”
Tolbert looked at me with a slight grin that I suddenly wanted slap off. "What about you, honcho? You ok if I tag along?"
I turned my back to him and walked on. "No problem."
Except that it was a problem. A big problem. I didn’t trust him.
We sat in the tunnel in the convertible Ashley slept in. Tommy went back to watching the horses – he insisted. Didn’t want to seem shaken up, I guess, now that he had competition for
Ashley. We did switch guns first though. He didn't want to part with his rifle, but the old semiautomatic just wasn’t cutting it. We weren't in home protection or hunting mode anymore, we were in survival mode.
The four of us sat up and talked for a bit, our conversations interrupted by frequent yawns. Except for Captain America over there. He looked ready to take on the world.
Louie spoke first. “It’s Independence Day,” he said, creating a light round of snickers.
“Doesn’t mean much now,” I replied. “Unless you’re a fan of the movie.”
“Hated it,” Louie said, flopping himself down on the front sleep an
d closing his eyes.
“So what’s going on?” I asked. “Out there, I mean. You hear anything?”
“The army’s getting organized,” he said. “Took a while, no communications and all, but we’re getting there.”
“President still in charge?”
Tolbert nodded. “Yeah, heading to Chicago. Some professor dude got word to him that that was the safest place to be. That’s where most of the country seems to be heading. No technology, but rumors still spread like crazy. They’re taking the President some secret way, split up from the Vice President. No one knows their path.
“So everyone’s going to Chicago?”
“Most yeah. Lot of dead people though. I spent three days on body duty. Tag ‘em and bag ‘em. Must’ve put over a thousand people in body bags. We ran out.”
Ashley looked at him. “What killed them all?”
Tolbert looked away like he didn’t really want to remember. “Just got too hot, or they starved, or refused to leave their cars. Plus the oxygen depleted crazies out there. Some just die; others go out with a bang.”
I thought about it. We’ve met our share of crazies. “Is there still a lot of looting and rioting?” I looked at Ashley’s backpack, worried about all the stuff we stole.
“Yeah, but not so much. People don’t go outside anymore, or there’s nothing left. But we’ve arrested plenty of people.”
Ashley looked interested in that. I guessed she had her share of run-ins with the law, too. “What did you do with them all?”
“Put them in prisons, in holding cells, in anything we could find. Some we just had to shoot, but they were mostly the crazies that wouldn’t listen.”
Ashley looked away. “Why arrest them all?"
“This is still America. And stealing is still against the law. We’ll get order restored soon. But not if we’re soft.”
“Is that where the soldiers are? In the city?”
“Yeah. The larger ones especially. Seven million frightened, frying hungry people in New York City alone. Takes a lot more than just the New York National Guard.”
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