by Mason King
Like all attractive girls in law school, Vanessa had a boyfriend back home in Michigan. It was serious, in the way that relationships during our undergraduate years always seem so serious. So, I was stuck with being her friend. Which, I suppose, was better than nothing.
She had an infectious laugh. Her whole face would smile when she laughed. Her eyes would light up, her dimples springing into action as she scrunched her cheeks. We became good friends. We bonded over our dogs. She had a German short-haired pointer (“the best hunting dogs!” she would always proclaim), and I had a tiny Cairn terrier (think Toto from the Wizard of Oz). I’m sure we looked like an odd couple when we went to the dog park – her tiny five foot two frame next to her big hunting dog, and me, nearly six feet tall, following a tiny little dog that looked more like a stuffed animal. We had fun. And, wouldn’t you know it, her relationship couldn’t survive the long-distance and, by the spring of our first year, she was single again.
It didn’t take long for me to take her off the market again. We were already practically a couple, spending most nights together, going on long walks with our dogs, me showing off my cooking skills during long study sessions. I had no doubt that I wanted to marry her. Sometimes you just know, right? So in the summer of our second year, I popped the question. Thankfully, she said yes. That was the happiest day of my life. Cliché, I know, but true.
Our third year flew by. I was busy looking for a job in Madison after graduation. Vanessa had already found a job as an environmental lawyer (of course; she always belonged outdoors). We were looking at houses together near Lake Mendota, on the other side of the isthmus. Our apartment was littered with bridal magazines and court documents. It was as close as I would come to a perfect life. Looking back now, it seems like a different world. Well, it was a different world.
So, why am I alone now? Vanessa was up in Green Bay, visiting her parents, when The Collapse happened. I had just spoken with her the night before. Skyped with her, actually. She had both the dogs and I was missing my little family, so we video chatted for about an hour. She was planning on coming home in two days. I couldn’t wait. Of course, that wasn’t to be.
The funny thing is, I wasn’t really that worried about her, after The Collapse. As I said, she was a natural in the outdoors, and if anyone could survive and flourish in just such a situation as this, it was her. On top of that, she was at her parent’s farm, outside of Green Bay. Protected from the madness in the city, sheltered by familiar surroundings. Yes, I’m sure she and the dogs were just fine.
This assumes, of course, that The Collapse happened everywhere. Maybe it didn’t. Who knows! She might be up there right now, trying to call my cell, trying Skype, watching TV for any sign of life in Madison. Maybe the world as we know it is still alive and well outside of this isthmus. Who knows! All that I can be certain of is what I see around me. And all I see around me is collapse and chaos. As I have no way of getting out, and I haven’t seen any signs of anyone trying to get in, I have to assume the worst – that the entire globe has collapsed.
At any rate, I’m sure Vanessa is alive and well. I hope.
*****
I’ve done some bad things in the past three weeks. Well, maybe not in the first week, but certainly in the past few days. It’s funny how situations like this tend to bring out either the best or the worst in people. I guess I fall into the latter category. Vanessa would fall into the first. In my defense, the things I’ve done are victimless crimes. And I’ve seen things far worse than I’ve actually done. At least, that’s how I justify it. One still needs to be able to sleep at night.
I’ve stolen. I’ve looted. I’ve pillaged. Yes, pillaged, that sounds better. Far more heroic, like the Vikings. I’ve pillaged. I found a knife that I carry. I’ve never actually had to use it, and I suppose I should be thankful for that. But, if given the chance, I’m guessing I wouldn’t feel bad letting the knife do some work for me. I’ve heard a few gunshots; someone must have some weapons around here somewhere. For the most part though, my crimes have been minor transgressions. No felonies here. I’ve pillaged, but that’s it.
When my food ran out, I had to do something. Luckily, I live next door to a CVS. You know, one of those drugstores that also carry a wide selection of food products. Do people actually buy their groceries from places like that? At any rate, I’m glad they stock those goods now. For the first few days after The Collapse, people lived as though society was still intact. Sure, we could tell that something major had happened, that the situation was dire, that there seemed to be no way out. But we are the good people of the Midwest, after all! We still have manners. Nobody looted, nobody rioted. For the most part, the neighborhood remained calm and orderly.
In the beginning, at least. After a week, when my food ran out, I became desperate. I was hungry, and when one is hungry, the hunger is all-consuming. It drives you to a primal state of needing food and doing anything you can to get it. I had noticed that nobody seemed to be watching the CVS anymore. No guards around, no former workers. Most of the neighborhood had either gotten out of the isthmus, or had gone into hiding. So I broke in. It was really much easier than I expected. One glass door, one big rock, and one strong throw was all it took. The sound of the breaking glass was louder than I expected, but I looked around and saw no reaction. So I went in.
The first trip, I only took enough to feed myself for a day. “This won’t last much longer” I thought. “Someone will come save us. The National Guard, Army Reserves, someone must be on their way.” But, of course, I was wrong. And so, a few days later, I went back with a couple of backpacks. It seemed that nobody else had noticed the broken door, because the store was still fully stocked. Jackpot. I loaded up the bags with beef jerky, crackers and pretzels, sugary candy, and bottled water – things that would last for awhile. I made a few trips that day and hauled it all up to my apartment. A nice little stockpile. After my numerous trips, I had enough food and water to last for three or four weeks, by my estimation. Surely, someone would come by then, right?
Of course, looting is probably the most benign of crimes that happens these days. I’ve seen things in front of me that I have only ever seen in movies before. Terrible things. Apart from nearly being shot behind the Moon Café that first week, I have remained safe, somehow. But I’ve seen plenty of others who have not been so fortunate. As the days have dragged on and on, the numbers of bodies I’ve seen has grown steadily. The first one shocked me beyond belief. Now, it would seem strange to not see a body or two every time I leave the house. Funny how that works, isn’t it? I guess we can become conditioned to anything.
The first body I ever saw was terrible. It was a girl. She looked younger, was probably a freshman at the university here. Away from home for the first time. Starting the next, exciting chapter of her life. I saw her on State Street. It’s the most popular street in Madison, running all the way from the state capitol at the exact center of the isthmus, all the way to the center of the university campus. Full of eclectic shops, every kind of restaurant you can imagine, and, this being a college town, plenty of bars and nightclubs. This poor girl was laid out on the sidewalk in front of a pizza place. Her purse was still on her, so she obviously wasn’t killed for that. Maybe she had food, or supplies. God only knows. She had one hole in her chest. One shot. Just like that, The Collapse had ended her life. I was pretty shook up that night. Couldn’t get her out of my mind. Didn’t sleep a wink.
Now? I see at least a body a day, whenever I go out. Still sleep soundly at night. I don’t know what that says about me, but I’m pretty sure it’s not a good thing.
*****
Hope is a funny thing. It’s supposed to help you carry on in times like these, help you cope with the awful reality all around you, right? I don’t have much hope. The first week or so, I had some. I thought that somebody would be coming to the isthmus to rescue us poor suckers who were stuck there. I’ve seen rescue efforts in natural disasters before on the news; someone always comes,
eventually, right? Well, nobody came. After the first week, my hope slowly drained, day by day, hour by hour, when nothing came. There was no rescue in sight. I doubted that I would ever get off the isthmus, that life would ever return to normal, that I would ever see Vanessa again. I resigned myself to my lot and, with that, my hope was gone.
Well, not completely. I’ve had one glimmer of hope. Just a few days ago, actually. I was walking along Wilson Street, looking over Lake Monona. I walked along this path usually once a day. Looking out over the lake, looking for any signs of life. Before The Collapse, you could see houses on the other side of the lake, lots of big houses, right on the lake. Docks for their boats and everything. Vanessa used to talk about living over there. “It’d be a great place to raise kids” she said. My heart would race when she mentioned things like that. It was exciting to think about.
Now, however, looking across the lake, the houses are gone. Actually, everything is gone. There’s just more water. Endless water, as far as the eye can see. What happened to the houses, to the docks, to the trees on the other side? Hell if I know. As far as I can see, it looks like the lake just decided to grow and swallow everything in its path. No more dream houses over there. Nothing but water.
So I walked along the street, looking out over the water. I don’t know what I expected to find. Maybe one day I would see a boat. Better yet, a fleet of boats! Rescue boats. Coming to save me and anyone else still stuck on the isthmus. Maybe I just felt like I needed a job to do, something to put some structure into life after The Collapse. I felt like a sentry, keeping watch for signs of life. It felt like the most important job in the world.
Of course, I never saw anything. Not a sign of a boat, no movement, no sounds. Until a few days ago. Well, I didn’t see something, at first. I heard something. Which, in itself, was a pretty strange occurrence. I’m usually surrounded by silence on my daily walks. Anyone that could have gotten out already did. Anyone that was stuck here on the isthmus learned to stay inside or out of sight. Doing otherwise was putting your life at risk.
So it was more than a bit strange, when I first heard those sounds. Static. White noise. Sounds that reminded me of civilization. My ears shot up like Vanessa’s hunting dog out in a field. The sound was coming from a patch of grass just a few feet ahead. I had no idea what to expect. I was not prepared for what I found.
A Walkie-talkie! A functioning communication device…Was it really? It was silent. I thought that maybe my ears were in cahoots with my brain in order to play tricks on me. I hadn’t seen any functioning machines for a few weeks now. No electricity. No phones. No internet. No radio. Nothing.
And then – screeches. Crackles. Static! I raced over to pick up the device, held it against my ear, strained intensely to hear anything. It didn’t sound like anything. White noise. And then I heard it – a female’s voice. It was choppy and I couldn’t understand what she was saying.
“….we have to….or else…please, Daniel….follow this…”
Did she say Daniel? That was my name, of course. It was also a popular name in the Upper Midwest. Hell, I knew three other Daniel’s just in my law school. Could have been anyone. Still, there was something odd about that muffled voice. It almost sounded like…Vanessa. No, it couldn’t have been, right? I mean, I knew she was alive and well up north. I had no proof, of course, but I knew it. But for her to be calling this exact Walkie-talkie at this exact time? That seemed too much. I’ve never been one to believe in fate and destiny and all that. I’m a big believer in coincidences. But this seemed too much.
I pressed the call button and spoke hesitantly – “Hello? Is anyone there? Can you hear me?”
Silence. Not even static.
“Hello!” I repeated, a bit more urgently. “Is there anyone there? Please!”
I listened, completely fixated on hearing even the slightest sound.
There was a click. Some brief static. And four words: “Daniel, is that you?”
The Walkie-talkie fell silent. The static had ended. I knew she was gone. Still, I pressed the button and nearly shouted – “Vanessa! Vanessa! Help! Anyone!”
I knew there was nobody there now. I was in shock. I stood in a daze until I was snapped awake by a rushing sound behind me. I whirled around, but didn’t see anyone. Those of us still left on the isthmus have gotten pretty good at seeing, while not being seen. I figured somebody must have heard me screaming into the Walkie-talkie. Somebody probably wanted the Walkie-talkie. And would likely do whatever was necessary to get it from me. I turned around and started sprinting towards my apartment.
I ran while glancing over my shoulder. I could hear the footsteps following me, but every time I turned around, there was nobody there. It wasn’t the first time I’ve been followed. Certainly won’t be the last. Still, it never gets any less scary.
As a turned the corner onto Washington Avenue, just two blocks from home, I heard a voice.
“Hey! Stop! Come back here!”
I didn’t stop. I was in no mood for a conversation. I ran and ran until I reached my front steps, quickly turning the key to get inside, and ran up the six flights of stairs faster than I ever had before.
I knew they couldn’t follow me, at least, not without breaking down the front door of the apartment complex. And unless they had a battering ram, that wasn’t going to happen. I was the only one left in this building, and it had quickly become my fortress.
I sat on my couch, trying to catch my breath, and stared down at the Walkie-talkie in my hand. It couldn’t have been Vanessa, my Vanessa, right? I turned the device over and over in my hands. Battery-powered. That explained the tiny miracle of it actually working after The Collapse.
That was a few days ago. I’ve powered on the Walkie-talkie a few times since then, but there’s been nothing but silence. If I could just hear that voice again, maybe I could figure out if it was really Vanessa…What was she trying to say? We have to…what? Follow…what? It didn’t make any sense.
Yet, it was the most hope I’ve had since The Collapse. Maybe there was someone out there after all. Maybe someone that could help me escape this sliver of land and find some safety. It was a small, distant hope, sure. But in a situation like this, any amount of hope is better than nothing.
*****
I remember one time in our third year of law school, when Vanessa and I went to her family’s cabin right on the other side of Lake Michigan, near Holland. Just us two for an entire weekend, outside of Madison, outside of Wisconsin, far away from school, far away from stress, just us. After The Collapse, I often think of that weekend. I’m a city boy, through and through. I loved going to the country, away from the busy city, but I didn’t know the first thing about surviving in the country. Vanessa amazed me.
She insisted that I couldn’t bring any food with us for the entire weekend. As much as I loved cooking for her and playing the role of chef, I was barred from bringing along any ingredients. Her family had a garden, she said, and anything else we needed, we could get ourselves! I wasn’t convinced. It’s not that I didn’t trust her, it was just so far out of my comfort zone, that I had no idea what to expect.
The first night, Vanessa wanted fish. “Okay” I asked her, “Does your family have some in the freezer, or…” I was poking around the freezer, which was ominously empty.
“Of course not!” she squealed. “We’re going to get it ourselves!”
I must have looked dumbfounded, because Vanessa came over, grabbed my hand, and dragged me out the door, laughing the whole time.
We went to the edge of her family’s dock on Lake Michigan, and I remember watching in awe as Vanessa readied a fishing pole, baited the hook, tossed a perfect line in, and sat on the edge, waiting. She was radiant. Gleeful. You could tell she was really in her element. I didn’t even try fishing. I was enjoying just watching her. And of course, as I should have expected, she was an excellent angler.
That night we dined on freshly caught rainbow trout, a salad made from ingredie
nts out of her family’s garden, and some white wine (she had let me bring alcohol along, at least). It was the best food I’d ever tasted. All in all, it was an amazing night, and one of the nights when I knew how much I loved her. And how much she loved me. She tolerated my city-boy ignorance and was always so patient with me.
It’s comforting to think of now, as I sit in my apartment, looking out over what has become of the neighborhood. Here it’s all debris strewn around the streets and sidewalks, shadows bobbing in and out from the alleyways, bodies laying where they fell (or where someone made them fall). It’s a mess.
Vanessa is in a better place. This much I know. At least she’s out of the city. She’s in nature. She’s in her element. If anyone can survive The Collapse out there, it’s her. But, if that had been her voice on the Walkie-talkie, why did she sound so scared? So…in danger? Who was she with? How could I ever get there?
*****
My thoughts are interrupted by a crackling sound. Jolted back to reality. Static noise. The Walkie-talkie. I gasp. I’m caught by surprise.
“Daniel? Are you there?”
That voice…it has to be her. I know it.
“Vanessa? Is that you? Where are you?” I’m nearly screaming into the Walkie-talkie, praying she can hear my voice.
“Daniel, listen very carefully” she continues “I need you to come here. You need to come get me. Go to the boathouse. Remember the boathouse? Things are bad. I don’t…I don’t know what happened. Everyone is just…”
“Vanessa? Where are you?” I’m nearly screaming into the Walkie-talkie. I need to know if it’s her.
“Listen, you need to get out of Madison. Please, come up here. I can’t…I can’t talk. They’re coming. You know where to find me. Call me when you’re out”