by Mason King
With that, it clicks off. Silence. No more crackling. No more voices.
I press the button as hard as I can and call out to her. “Hello? Hello?”
No response.
Was it her? It had to be her…right? She called me Daniel. She knew I was still in Madison. If it wasn’t her…who could it possibly be? And where was she? Who was she with? Why did she sound scared?
It was too much for me to comprehend. My brain raced with possible scenarios. Was it really Vanessa? Had someone taken her somewhere against her will? Was she being held? How could I possibly get out of here?
The voice sounded like Vanessa. I think. Or was my brain playing tricks on me? No, it had to be her. I would know that voice anywhere, anytime. It was the voice of my future wife. The love of my life. It was Vanessa. And she sounded scared. I need to get out of here.
“Go to the boathouse” she said. I think about what that meant. Then it hits me. The campus boathouse, down by the Memorial Union Terrace. We used to sit out there after classes, having a beer, watching the boaters, and just generally enjoying life. I had thought about going there a few weeks ago, before it became so dangerous to move around. But I had to try. Maybe she’s in danger. Besides, sitting around my apartment, surviving off of snacks from the CVS isn’t really a long-term solution. I need a new Plan A.
I decide to head towards the boathouse at first light tomorrow morning. I’ll spend the night packing as many supplies as I can into my backpack. I don’t want to carry too much – it’s dangerous to be a slow-moving target. But this may be my last night in my apartment, so I want to take enough to survive as long as I have to on the road.
I start packing and try to stay focused, but I keep replaying her voice in my head.
“Please, come up here. I can’t…I can’t talk. They’re coming”.
I’m scared, but I’m convinced it was Vanessa. I need to find her.
*****
I’m up well before first light. In truth, I couldn’t sleep last night. You’d think it’d be easy to sleep after The Collapse. No TV to zone out in front of, no internet to browse endlessly. Not last night though. Too much going on in my mind. Too many possibilities, not enough answers.
I kept replying that voice from the Walkie-talkie – her voice. I had convinced myself it was Vanessa. I was ready to risk everything to go and find her. Of course, I shouldn’t make myself out to sound all that heroic. I mean, what am I really leaving here? I have some semblance of a life, sure, but there is no real long-term future to surviving in my apartment, alone, with beef jerky and pretzels to eat. No, if I wanted a real chance at survival, at finding something worth living for after The Collapse, I had to leave. I always knew it. Now, I had the reason.
I grabbed my backpack that I had stocked full of as many supplies as it would fit. Took one last look around the place that I had shared with Vanessa just a few short weeks ago. Strange how much things had changed. I double checked my pack to make sure I still had the Walkie-talkie; it was my only hope of talking to that voice again. With everything there, I head out.
It’s strange walking past all of these places that used to be so teeming with life. The bar where our friend worked at, offering way too many free drinks. The library where I didn’t do nearly enough studying. Everything is so quiet now. It makes you a bit paranoid. I’ve learned that you always need to be on the lookout these days. One mistake and it could be your last.
I make it down to the Union Terrace. It used to be the perfect spot to grab a beer and stare out over the lake. It’s filled with garbage and bodies now. I guess a lot of people instinctively came down here right after The Collapse. Bad idea. They look pretty well picked over by scavengers.
The voice, Vanessa, had told me to go to the boathouse, but when I got there, it was locked up tight. I looked around for a way inside, but it was no use. I see a couple of kayaks in the water, and remember the time Vanessa and I took a kayak out on the lake. It was a lot of fun, but also a lot of work. There was no way I was going to paddle across this now ocean-sized lake by myself. I wouldn’t even get halfway before becoming exhausted. Had to think of something else.
I remember when we were kayaking we saw a private dock tucked into the woods to the east of the Union Terrace. It must have been the home of one of Madison’s very old, very rich professors, because it had a couple of boats tied up to it. I figure it’s worth a try, and sprint down the Terrace steps into the woods.
Just a few minutes later, I see the dock. There’s still one smaller speed boat there. Owners must have taken the other bigger yacht and got out of here right away. As I’m walking up to the dock, I can see signs of a struggle. The dirt and leaves are scattered, as if they were trampled and kicked all around. Drops of what look like blood dot the steps up to the dock. When I finally reach the boat, I see why.
Inside is an old man. Must have been the owner. He’s spread out in the boat, a single shot to the back. On the floor in front of him are empty duffel bags, a broken cell phone, and some keys. Looks like he didn’t make his escape in his other boat after all. Someone beat him to it. I feel terrible. But I’m still alive, and I want to keep it that way, so I grab the keys and drag the body back up on to the dock.
Hopping back down to the boat, I’m a bit scared to test out the keys. If they aren’t for this boat, I’m out of ideas. I need this to work.
I try the first key. Crank it hard. Nothing. Shit.
One key left.
I turn it slowly. The engine sputters a few times. I turn it harder and it wheezes to life. My lucky day!
I know the noise is sure to draw anyone nearby, hoping for a way out. Maybe they would ask nicely to come with me, but I can’t take that chance. I back the boat up, turn it around, and speed out of there as quickly as I can. I don’t even look back twice to see the group of people running out of the woods towards the dock.
I’m on my way.
*****
I’ve been making my way across this lake for what seems like hours. I can’t even comprehend how big it is now. Before The Collapse, this trip took maybe 20 minutes to go from side to side, tops. Now? It feels never-ending. The shore where I left from is somewhere behind me. All I can see is blue water, on all four sides, as far as my eyes can see. I’m not feeling very confident right now.
Where did all this water come from? What caused it to multiply so drastically? I suppose this is one of one million questions relating to The Collapse that I have. It all happened so quickly that there wasn’t really any time to process what was going on. A deafening bang, a crack of blinding white light, and that was it. Everything flickered off.
I was in my apartment, but I heard from others closer to the lake that the water had simply exploded out the far side. Gobbled up the docks and houses on the other side, and just kept on rolling. The shore on our side, the isthmus side, stayed the same, however. This led to wild speculation about the causes of The Collapse: maybe the Earth had shifted direction; maybe the ground had sunk on the other side, letting the water escape in that direction; maybe it was terrorism, or something extraterrestrial. The truth is that nobody had the slightest idea what had happened.
So I soldier on – what other choice do I have? I need to find Vanessa. I need to make it to the other side. I should have reached the other side by now. On a normal day, before The Collapse, I would’ve been there already. I look up and everything is a haze. Hard to tell which way the sun is shining from behind the mask of grey. If there is a sun, even. Who knows, at this point.
I hear another motor. Could it be that someone is following me? I can’t…
*****
Watch for April 3rd: A Survival Memoir, coming soon to a bookstore near you!
NORTH SHORE
I hadn’t slept for three days. Not for lack of trying. It was just too much to ask my brain to shut down completely, even for a few hours, now that I was on my own. Of course, it’s not like I slept like a rock when it was the three of us. No, too much to worry ab
out then even. Different things to worry about, but worries all the same. Still, at least there was the odd hour or two that I managed to drift off, when Carly or Scott were wide awake and on guard for whatever may have come our way. Those days were long gone now. Now I was on my own. I hoped and prayed that Carly and Scott were still together somewhere, still surviving. I had my doubts.
We’d been traveling together for maybe three months. It was hard to keep track of long periods of times anymore. We forget how tied to our cellphones and the Internet we really are. Take those away and we’re like babies, trying to figure things out on our own. I’d guess that it was nearly three months we were surviving together, since late summer and noticeably changed into deep autumn. There was less sunlight and most days brought a brisk wind that had some teeth in it. We were worried about what we were going to do when the first snow hit. We needed to find a shelter by then, something sturdy. That much we all agreed on, though that’s about where the agreements ended.
I wanted to head back towards Duluth, into the city. Carly and Scott wanted to stay outside of Brainerd, where we had been camping on the outskirts of Mille Lacs Lake. Of course, we still had our pickup back then, so traveling back up to Duluth wasn’t completely out of the question. In the end I was outnumbered, two to one, so we stayed near Brainerd. Despite what we had seen, I just couldn’t convince them that our best bet, our safest move, would have been to try and get back to Duluth, where there was safety in numbers. We could head to my house, near the police station, I had argued. Surely that would be a bit safer than trying to wait things out at the little lake house we had rented. At least, that’s what I thought. They didn’t buy it. I think Scott would have gone with me, but after what we had seen, and how shook up Carly had been, he would have done whatever she had wanted. That’s just how they were together. Him, always the protector. Her, always getting her way.
God, how I wish I could have convinced them now. I think about it every day.
Of course, I couldn’t blame her for not thinking clearly. We had just witnessed a human, so we thought, feasting on another human. That’s the sort of thing that could make anyone lose their common sense for a while.
*****
Watch for North Shore, coming to a bookstore near you!