by Mason King
The first house that he saw movement in was, ironically, his own. A flashlight appeared from the window that he knew as his bedroom, and shined down directly into his windshield. Within minutes everyone was outside and the gate was easily sliding open, welcoming him home.
***
The drive back to San Francesco headquarters felt like an eternity to both Lillian and Sam. Once back, they were greeted with a lot of hearty slaps on the back, and the news that they had had another accomplice come forward. They’d been skeptical at first, until they had been able to describe Paul to a T, down to what he was wearing the day of the attack.
Once Sam told this to Paul, it wasn’t long before Paul came out and told them the name of the other 2 accomplices.
Paul had said, quote “If I’m going down may as well take those pricks down with me.” Before he’d written down names, and descriptions, of all of his counter-parts.
They had two in custody, and were hunting down two more.
“Not bad.” Sam said to himself.
“Not bad.” Lil, who Sam hadn’t even heard coming, said as she wrapped her arms tightly around Sam’s waist from behind and pressed her cheek against his shoulder blades.
It had been suspected for several months that Sam and Lil had been more than just partners. They had been right in the middle of deciding if they should put in a transfer now that their bosses were becoming suspicious. However, now there were way bigger fish to fry within the bureau. They knew they were better as team, on the field and off, and they knew now that they’d caught America’s current #1 most wanted, they didn’t anticipate ever having an issue with their relationship mixing with their professional careers.
***
Hunter’s Jeep pulled into the development and the gate closed tightly behind him.
He had barely stepped his foot out of the vehicle before he was tackled by Kendall. While he expected her to hug him, she took him, and the entire group, by surprise when she grabbed him and kissed him. Not passionately, but urgently. Hunter didn’t even have time to decide if he wanted to kiss her back before her lips were gone, and she was crying as she hugged him tightly.
The rest of the group joined in, and Hunter was quickly surrounded by his entire family, happy to have him home safely.
No one made any move to go into their houses. Instead, they grabbed some candles and all set up camp for the night at Hunter’s house.
Hunter told them what had happened, and let everyone use his phone to call any one they wanted to get in touch with.
Kendall called no one. She simply took up camp beside Hunter and remained quiet, scarfing down two packages of pop-tarts and a handful of Oreo’s. Hunter looked at her quizzically, but didn’t ask.
Hunter’s heart got lighter and lighter as he watched Frank and Diana make contact with several of their siblings. Trevor was finally able to reach his parent’s and Hunter saw him cry for the first time as his parent’s told him that his girlfriend was safely with them. Trevor asked Hunter if he was okay with his parents coming to the development. Hunter told him of course, and Trevor told them where to find the neighborhood. Brad, who had already lost the most important people in his life, made no phone calls. Still, he remained genuinely happy for those who were able to make contact with their loved ones.
The air in the house was lighter than it had been. Even though they had been managing, there was a distinct sense of peace hanging over everyone that had not been there before. As everyone began to say their goodnights, Frank and Diana went into the guest room, Brad and Trevor took up space on the couches, and Hunter made his way towards his room.
He didn’t have to wait long to see where Kendall was headed, because as soon as he went upstairs, Kendall did too.
Hunter crawled in to bed, and was not surprised to see Kendall follow suit. Hunter was about to protest, “Kendall I’m not sure…” but she shushed him.
“We’re not doing anything. I’m just glad your back.”
And with that, she slid beside him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Within minutes, her soft snoring was all that could be heard in the quiet of his room. He slid his arms around her and let himself enjoy the feel of her beside him.
The next morning, everyone congregated, as usual, in the common room. Everything was back to normal for days. Trevor’s family came and were welcomed in with open arms.
It became an unspoken nightly routine that Kendall started sleeping at Hunter’s. No one questioned it, and nothing ever progressed beyond sleeping. The two had been through so much together in such a short time, no one thought it inappropriate that they would seek solace in one another.
It wasn’t until 8 days after the Paul fiasco that Hunter finally heard from Sam. He called, as promised to fill him in on what was going on.
They had been able to match the first outbreak site with the final vial, and Paul and his companions all stuck to the fact that there was no cure. While the odds were against their favor, the FBI was making this case an indefinitely open one, where there would always be at least one person working to find a cure. The FBI was releasing an official statement today in regards to what was going on. Their plan was to keep everyone in their evacuation sites and send out the military to start rallying up the Dead so that they could begin slowly integrating everyone back in to the community.
“It will take years,” Sam maintained, sounding much older than he had even when Hunter had met him, “But we’ll get there. You and yours alright?”
Hunter looked around at everything he had, “Yeah, Sam. Me and mine are all right.”
THE END
*****
APRIL 3RD: A SURVIVAL MEMOIR
April 3rd. My 30th Birthday. Instead of my traditional birthday cake (homemade Angel Food with strawberries and whipped cream on top), I was scrounging around for anything I could get my hands on. I dug my hand down deep into the dumpster again, hoping for scraps of something sweet. I came up empty – big surprise.
Of course, I didn’t really expect to find anything. The power had been off for three weeks already. Still, I held out hope that, by some Birthday Miracle, I might find an indestructible cookie or two or, better yet, a box of Twinkies. “The snack that can survive anything!” I couldn’t help but laugh at how right they were
It wasn’t supposed to be like this, of course. Nobody could have predicted, a few weeks ago, that my birthday celebration would be ruined by a complete downfall of modern society as we know it. Everything was going along swimmingly. I was engaged, had just received a promotion, and was about to turn 30. Cheers all around!
And then: The Collapse. That, my friends, is what they call Cosmic Irony. Right when things were picking up for me – whoosh; it’s all taken away.
Of course, I shouldn’t complain. It’s not like I’m the only person affected by The Collapse. Hell, as far as I could tell (which wasn’t very far, admittedly, what with the absence of T.V., Internet, cell phones and the like), the Collapse had swept the entire globe into a state of general disrepair.
I would imagine some are faring far better than others. For some Brazilians in the Favelas, or, oh, I don’t know, the sprawling shantytowns of Mumbai and New Delhi, April 3rd was probably just another day, nothing out of the ordinary. No electricity? No problem. No running water? What else is new! I envy them now.
The area where I was searching dumpsters for birthday treats had been, one could say, rather profoundly affected. Decimated, even. Madison, Wisconsin. It used to be a buzzing city – thousands and thousands of college students mixing with twenty and thirty-something techies, living side by side with aging liberals and political junkies. A nice little slice of heaven, in my mind. It was, after all, where I had graduated from law school, where I had met Vanessa, where I had just become a Partner at an old firm downtown, next to the state capitol.
It’s funny. I still think of my life in terms of the “Old” me. Of course, none of those things matter anymore. So I’m a lawyer? Doesn’t matter. Just got eng
aged to Vanessa? Meaningless. Funny how two weeks can mean the difference between that life and this one. I suppose that’s why they call it The Collapse then, and not just “a Brief Interruption to Your Everyday Life”.
No, I don’t imagine I’ll be going back to that old life anytime soon. Madison is, for intents and purposes, a ghost town now. Thousands of people died that first day. I suppose it’s even higher than that, but then again, I can only make guesses based on my own eyes and ears. I guess we really did take all those toys and gadgets, iPhones and internet, for granted. It’d sure be nice to hope onto cnn.com and see if I’m living in a dream or if the whole world is in survival mode. Not that it would matter much, I suppose, but maybe there’d be some comfort in that.
Where was I? Right, digging for birthday presents. I’ve noticed how much the mind wanders when you’re alone and just trying to get through the day, every single day. Perhaps it’s our need as humans to communicate – in the absence of anyone else, I just communicate with myself. Of course, it’s all a bit one-sided but, as my Dad used to say, desperate times call for desperate measures. Pun intended. He probably would have loved this situation. He was always going on and on about how our ancestors had it right, how much modern man has lost by sitting behind a desk 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. He was probably right. My typing skills and poor posture aren’t exactly helping me these days.
Finding no goodies to satisfy my sweet tooth on my birthday, I headed back to my apartment. Or, base camp, as I call it now. I’m looking for a better name, if this becomes a long-term situation (which it certainly is looking like it will). Until then, base camp will do. It’s only about a half-mile from State Street, which was great in my college years. No drinking and driving required – it was drinking and walking. Now, though, it’s not the greatest location for surviving. For one thing, it’s surrounded by loads of other apartment buildings. We’re an easy target for anyone looking to loot (and believe me, there are plenty of people who spend all day doing nothing but looking for others to loot). On top of that, it’s a pain to climb six flights of stairs every time I need to leave and /or think someone is coming and need to hide. If this ever goes back to normal, I will never take another elevator ride for granted, I swear.
The apartment complex was great…for the first day or two. We had a mini-community, a support group, a shoulder to lean on. Nobody knew what the hell was going on or what we were supposed to do now. As the days passed though, things changed. People left, while they still had gas in their tanks. Others went out looking for food and just never came back. Others were attacked in their apartments. People got spooked. Fled the scene. Apparently I was the only one without anywhere to go, because I’m the only one that’s still here. I’m either stupid or brilliant – time will tell.
*****
I should have left right away, of course. Hindsight is 20/20. Well, to give myself at least a little credit, I did try to leave, the very first day. After The Collapse, I only thought of one thing: Vanessa. I know, it’s cheesy, but she really was the love of my life. The sunshine in my day. She had the cutest freckles, and wavy red hair. I’m getting sentimental just picturing her.
Of course, I’m sure she still has the cutest freckles and bright red hair. I only speak of her in the past tense because, well, for me, she’s past. I’m sure she’s still alive out there, somewhere. That’s not just foolish hope talking, either. She was always the outdoorsy one in the relationship. Her dad had been taking her camping since she was just a little girl. Teaching her the tricks of the trade. How to start a fire. How to build a shelter. How to hunt and fish with hardly anything but your bare hands. She put me to shame in those departments. So, if somehow I’m still alive and kicking, I have no doubt that Vanessa is still alive and well. In fact, she’s probably flourishing. I picture her as the Queen of the Survivors, probably up near Green Bay somewhere, rebuilding civilization, one step at a time. Maybe I’ll be able to join her someday…
As I said, I tried to get to her the first day. It’s not like I would choose to go it alone here in downtown Madison. That would just be crazy. But downtown Madison, for those of you who don’t know, is built on an isthmus. “What’s that?” you ask? Why, dear friends, an isthmus is a small strip of land, connecting two larger pieces of land, but surrounded by large bodies of water on either side. Think of it as the middle ring on an hourglass, or the belt on a very curvy woman. I live on that isthmus. 99% of the time, it’s beautiful. Water on both sides, picturesque scenes everywhere you look. It does have its downside though, as I’ve recently discovered. Living on an isthmus is a terrible situation when society collapses.
I tried to get out, of course. First I went west down Washington Avenue. I live slightly closer to the west-side, and it leads to bigger population centers, so it was a natural route. Of course, everybody else in Madison had the exact same idea, and the roads were backed up for miles. People were not dealing with The Collapse very well either, I must say. Common curtsies went out the window and I saw more than a handful of people waving small handguns out of their car windows. Not my type of scene.
So I turned my moped around and headed east. Side note: I know. A moped isn’t the greatest idea when you’re dealing with a collapse. But fun fact: Madison has the highest moped ownership rate per capita of any city in the United States. So, at least I was in good company.
I passed downtown, the state capitol, and was heading east, when that damn isthmus came into play again. Whatever caused The Collapse had apparently been violent enough to shift the ground beneath our feet. Because where there once was a road leading directly out of town, there was now a lake. It seemed the isthmus had ceased to be an isthmus, and the two lakes on either side had joined forces to create a super lake. Nope, there was no way my little moped was going to motor across that expansive sea. So I turned around and drove home.
*****
Apart from not being able to get out of Madison after the life-altering event, aka The Collapse, things weren’t actually that bad. I was a foodie and I loved to cook, so my kitchen was always stocked with plenty of food, drinks, and treats. At first, it seemed like a mini-vacation, if you didn’t pay any attention to the lack of electricity, water, or anything else, of course. I thought things would go back to normal in a day or two. I t wasn’t the first time we have been without power in the upper Midwest, of course. Have you ever seen a blizzard here in January? Nothing new!
But by the third day, my mood had changed. Most of my food was fresh food, and that was starting to spoil. There’s only so much fresh food that a man can eat with no way of cooking! I had started to venture outside of my apartment during the day. Occasionally I would run into a neighbor or a student here or there. We’d nervously shoot the breeze, contemplate when things would be back to normal, and be on our way. After a few days though, these random meetings became less and less common. Either people had found a way to get out of the isthmus (lucky rich people with boats!), or else everyone had gone into hiding, not wanting to be seen. I suspect more of the latter, based on the figures I would see quickly darting out of the corner of my eye and the rustling noises of people trying to move slowly in the alleys and around each corner.
I’ll admit; it was creepy. Vanessa would have been fine with it, no doubt. She probably would have given me a crash course on how to sneak around myself, so that I wouldn’t be such a sitting duck every time I left my place. But Vanessa wasn’t there, so I wandered around aimlessly, as if I didn’t need to worry about anything. Silly me.
That all changed around the sixth day, maybe the seventh. I was walking behind The Moon Café, hoping to find some type of leftovers that wouldn’t be spoiled yet, when I heard what sounded like a firecracker, shooting off to my left. I should have ran, of course, but I didn’t know any better. “Strange” I thought, looking around. I didn’t see anyone, or anything out of the ordinary, so I kept on searching for food. A few seconds later, another bang, this one whizzing by my ear before striking the ground in fr
ont of me.
“Shit.” I thought. Even I knew what the second one was. Someone was shooting at me. Luckily for me, they were a terrible shot. I quickly ran around the side of the building, turned towards home, and ran past the point of my lungs feeling like they would burst. When I finally got inside, locked the door, moved all my furniture in front of the door to block it, and lay down on my living room floor, I was exhausted. Dumbstruck. Perplexed. “Had that just happened?” I wondered aloud.
I had never even seen a gun in person. Never held one, certainly never fired one. I was the luckiest idiot in Madison that day, I knew. Somehow I narrowly escaped being shot…for what? I had no food on me, no weapons on me, nothing of value, I thought. Of course, everything had changed. After that day, I knew that nothing would go back to how it had been. Things had changed. Society had changed. There was no hope of The Collapse just being a passing thing. It was here, it was real, and I needed to adapt, if I wanted to survive. It was times like that when I really wished Vanessa were around.
*****
I first saw her on the very first day of law school. I had moved to Madison from Chicago. I was used to the Chicago life, and all it had to offer: food, entertainment, and women. I was expecting to find none of those things in Madison, and was fully focused on surviving law school and moving out of there as quickly as I could. Of course, life never quite works out that way. Probably for the best. Where was I?
Oh, right, the first day of law school. I didn’t know a soul in Madison and, probably because I wasn’t the only one in that situation, the law school divided all of the first-year students into little groups, who had every class together, would study together, and, in a way, would become mini-families for everyone. It seemed a bit like middle school, but I went with it. And there she was. Not in my group, sadly, but in the group right next to us. Smiling, with a dimple, freckles all over her face, and her long, curly red hair. I was awestruck. I had never seen anyone so beautiful, not in Chicago, not in Madison, not in…well, anywhere. I tried not to stare, but I failed miserably.