Earth's Survivors Apocalypse

by Unknown

  “You know, Amanda Bynes will not care for that at all,” she had told them as she stood in her doorway, clutching her dressing gown to her throat.

  “Well, fuck Amanda Bynes,” Adam had told her. He turned to her. “Not to put too fine a point on it,” he added. She had shrunk back.

  She blinked. “Well, I don't suppose she'll be back. Do you?” She hadn't waited for an answer, but answered for herself. She lowered her eyes to the floor. “No. I don't suppose she will.” She looked back up. “Well, you're welcome to it, I guess. I guess it doesn't belong to anyone anymore. You just scared me is all.” She stood blinking. Tosh walked across the short distance and stuck out her hand.

  “I don't think anyone who isn't here right now will ever be back,“ Tosh had told her. She had held the old woman’s cold, thin hand.

  “Alice,” the old woman said as Tosh told her, her name. “Jefferson,” she had added.

  Adam chuckled from across the hall. Tosh had turned her eyes to him. “Just found it amusing is all,” Adam had told her.

  “I wonder what Mister James might think about all of this,” Alice had said. “We've never had... trouble like this,” she had finished quietly.

  “Mister James is your husband?” Adam had asked kindly.

  He tended to snap at people and then regret it after. He was so big that he scared people when he did that. Six foot three, and at two hundred and ninety, very close to three hundred pounds, but he was really an easy going soul, Tosh knew. He had been trying to make up for snapping at the old woman a few seconds before.

  “No, dear, our doorman. He's not supposed to let anyone in at all.” She had clutched at her throat and the collar of her housecoat once more.

  Tosh had looked at Adam. He had opened his mouth and then closed it. She had turned her eyes to Alice. “Alice... Alice, they got him. They got your Mister James... I'm sorry,” she had told her.

  Alice had blinked. “I see. Well he'll probably lose his job if he's... well if he's unable to do it,” she had looked at Tosh. “Do you think he's unable to do it?”

  Tosh nodded. “I'm pretty sure,” She had said.

  “Well, I wonder who will do it then?”

  The silence had held in the hallway for a short time and Adam broke it. “Do you think you might want to come over here with us? We're going to try to ride this out. Can't last forever, right?” He had finished with the lock-set, swung open the door and looked into the gloomy interior of Amanda Bynes' apartment. He turned back to face her.

  “No. Thank you, but I have always lived alone, and I can't see changing it now. Have you seen these gangs of people? I saw it on the T.V. before it quit working.” She had peered up at Adam.

  “Yeah. We've seen them. Had to fight our way through them.” His hand had come up and scrubbed at his face and the beard that was beginning to grow there.

  Alice had nodded. Her long robe lifted at floor level and a small white dog had stuck his head out from under the hem and looked up at Adam and Tosh. Alice followed their eyes down. “Ge-boo,” she had said. The dog looked up at her and then slipped his head back under the hem of the robe once more. He had poked his nose back out a few seconds later, fixed his eyes on Tosh, and then slipped back under the robe for good. It seemed to Tosh as though it hadn't really happened.

  “A dog,” Adam had said.

  Alice had nodded. “I have been walking him in the daylight. They said... the T.V. said... they don't come out in the daylight. Afraid to be seen or something. They haven't bothered Ge-Boo and me. Have you seen them in the daylight?” She had asked.

  “No,” Adam had told her.

  “No,” Tosh had agreed. “But you shouldn't go out. There are bad people out there... not just the gangs.”

  “You mean people that break into people's houses?” Alice had asked. She had looked from Tosh to Adam.

  “Yeah, well, okay,” Adam had agreed. “Just be careful... Alice,” He had added her name as an afterthought. “Tosh,” Tosh had nodded at Alice and then stepped into Amanda Bynes' apartment.

  Now she looked out over the fires burning in Jersey. The air was full of ash and smoke. It seemed like it was always now. She turned and went back into the apartment, sliding the balcony door shut behind her.

  Harlem

  Madison and Cammy

  The street was empty. Madison went first, taking her time, then called to the others. Cammy and Mickey came around the corner a few seconds later. Cammy stopped, watching Madison where she waited. Mickey came slowly, trying to look everywhere at once, holding the machine pistol he carried pointed up at the sky.

  Harlem was crazy. There were dead everywhere, because the gangs were running all the sick and elderly out of the neighborhoods. They had watched from the safety of a rooftop that overlooked the projects, as some gang members had gone apartment to apartment in the projects, running the people there out into the street.

  They had lined them up in the middle of the road and run them out of the projects, past the buses. Three different times one of the oldsters had turned to argue, or maybe just to make a point and they had clubbed them down, dragging them unconscious, out past the buses, and then shooting them in the head. After that they had begun going house to house looking for any other old people, sick, injured. Yeah, it was crazy in Harlem. They had decided to get out. There was no telling what might happen if they stayed.

  Mickey finally lowered the machine pistol he carried to the ground, took one more look around, and then his eyes came back to Madison as he walked.

  The shot rang out, and they all flinched. Madison went into a crouch. She had reached out and grabbed Cammy, pulling her low too, so she did not see Mickey begin to fall. Did not look that way until he was crumpled on the ground like a small pile of dirty clothes. Her eyes shot up toward the buildings quickly, but they dropped as a voice spoke.

  "Get the fuck up, bitches." A tall, dark-skinned kid - a kid, no more than that - walked from the darkened doorway of a building across the street. "I said, get the fuck up," he repeated as he walked toward them.

  Cammy stood from her crouch and Madison stood with her. "You don't have to hurt us," Madison began.

  "Good... Good. You bitches just get your asses moving and it'll be cool then." He motioned back the way they had come with his gun. Madison looked down at Mickey crumpled in the street, blood pooling around him, and got her feet moving. She held Cammy close as they walked slowly back into Harlem.

  Old Towne: Conner

  March 9th

  Maybe it’s March ninth. I guess I really don’t know, but that’s what I think it is, so that’s what I’m going with.

  It’s late. I spent today getting food, canned stuff mostly. It was rough. Almost everything is flattened, and what isn’t flattened is badly damaged. I spent about five hours a few days ago digging my way into a market in Old Towne. The roof was down, but held up by the tops of the aisle stacks, so I was able to make my way through. I just had to be really careful of broken glass. That was where I went back to today.

  I had no flashlight at first, but I managed to get a small flashlight and batteries. I had to take so much stuff out of the front area of the store, that all the impulse stuff they sell was right there, candy, little radios, and of course flashlights and batteries. I tried a small portable radio. Nothing but static on the A.M. and F.M. bands both. I brought it back with me along with some extra batteries. I listened to it a short while ago; still nothing. Maybe tomorrow.

  I spent the day at the market digging out canned goods and bringing them back here.

  Here is an old factory. The building is down in back of the square, Towne Square as it’s called. I knew about it from growing up here. I was worried about the factory itself collapsing, but it seems to be fine, solid, and it's huge.

  I don't know what it once was, but it has been there for as long as I can remember back into my own childhood. I think it had a short life as a warehouse or a storage building. I remember trucks coming and going. Holding m
y mother's hand and walking to the market. The same market I was gathering supplies from now. Watching the men load and unload the trucks. They bricked it up to keep kids just like me from playing in it when it was shut down. The bricks are in a pile, scattered around the entrance. I guess the quake took care of that.

  It’s only about a mile and a half from here to the market, but with no vehicle it’s slow going. I’ve been piling stuff up on a large sled I found, and making trips back and forth.

  I found several cars and trucks, snowmobiles, but none of them will run. Most of them have no juice, but even the ones that do just turn over and over and won’t fire up. Maybe if I was a mechanic I could do something, but I’m not. So it’s the sled and a lot of muscle work.

  I did notice today, after not going there for two days, that no one else had been there either. No tracks in the fresh snow. It’s depressing. No way can I be the only guy here, right? And that made me wonder, what the hell am I writing this for? I mean, if there’s no one left who will read it? I guess those are questions for another day. Another day because, truly, I don’t want to deal with them today.

  So I spent my day getting food. There are maybe two dozen buildings still standing in the square. And that’s where I was when I left off writing yesterday, heading for downtown, so I’ll pick it up from there.

  When I got downtown there was no one there, only the handful of buildings standing as I mentioned, and two of those went down a short time later from an aftershock. The Police department... Gone. The Fire department out Washington Street… Gone. I know I walked out there. Ditto the high school. All the old houses, the newspaper, the museum. Really, it’s all gone.

  There were some tracks, but how old were they? I couldn’t tell. And I couldn’t tell where they were headed either. I got pretty down about it and ended up walking back down to the square and then down towards the river in back of the square. There was a porn shop, still there. It seemed like the dirtiest place I’d ever seen. I mean, why would a place like that still be there, still be standing when almost nothing else was? Is that a statement or what? Hey, maybe it is, but since I was down that far, I thought I’d take a look at the river, and that made me think about the factory.

  It wasn’t hard to find it. It’s on an old abandoned road below the level of the square, but a good hundred feet or so above the level of the river. Some rock cliffs that towered above it had fallen. The factory itself seemed okay. It's built from what looks like rock from the surrounding area. Not just brick and mortar, or concrete block. It's really solid. Some rock from the cliffs had come down near it, but not much. Most of the rock lying around looked pretty old, like it had been there for some time. Given the buildings in Old Towne, which were still falling, or the factory, I chose the factory. It just seemed to make more sense.

  The open area in front is huge, and dry, more room than I could ever use, so there’s no need for me to go into that darkness, and explore the rest of the building. I have vague memories from childhood of a second story that seemed to be nothing but glass windows the entire length. From the outside those windows are gone. Probably blocked in when the rest of the changes were made. Whatever there is up there, and I suppose I will go look before too much longer, is all dark and dust. Maybe I would need the space someday.

  And that’s funny, isn’t it? What is it that I’ll need? Might need? Could need? I don’t know. I do know I won’t be spending the rest of my life living in a factory, that’s for sure, but it’s winter. I have to stay somewhere for the next few months. Then maybe I’ll head south if no one shows up to rescue me. I guess it would be me, there’s no one else here. It shouldn’t be that way though. There has to be more than me.

  I spent the rest of the day looking around. I walked all the way out to Arsenal Street as well as Washington Street. The mall, or most of it, has collapsed, but I should be able to get some stuff out of it. The turnpike is car wrecks and bodies everywhere. I could see it from an overpass. I didn’t feel a need to go down there to see it in person. I didn’t want to. Same as I don't need to go into Manhattan to know that it is as dead as everything else around here is. There is an odor on the wind that tells me all I need to know about the city.

  I havn’t really seen many bodies. Some at the mall, some at the market, a few others here and there, but there is so much ground, houses, things missing, that I think the other people just got swallowed up by the quake. There is a lot of raw earth. Most of the streets are messed up. The turnpike is like that in places, what I can see any way, but close to Arsenal Street, it’s all wrecks and bodies, wrecked and burned vehicles; and it smells horrible. I could smell it long before I came up on the overpass. I’ve decided it will take a lot to get me to go back out Arsenal Street again.

  There are five entrances to the subway. I walked down into the dark but I couldn't go any further. They aren't flooded. I expected them to be. Dry, from what I can see, but it's what I can't see that will keep me from going down there. The smell of death is there too. Strong, drifting up out of that darkness.

  The market has that smell also, and I found two people up by the checkouts when I first dug it out, but none since then as I’ve dug out other parts of the store. Maybe it’s the meat department at the back of the store that smells like that.

  I spent most of the next day wandering around, trying to start cars and trucks, calling out to the people I had hoped were there. Nothing. I heard something that sounded like an engine running, but it came and went on the wind and I couldn’t tell where it had come from, but I took that as a good sign. It has to be someone, right?

  I can’t imagine being alone.

  I tried to start new cars, old cars, new trucks, you name it. None of them do anything except turn over, but at least the batteries are working.

  That was the day I realized that the daylight seemed to last way too long. My watch wasn’t working, so I can’t say for sure, but the sun just seemed to hang in the sky for hours that I had no way to keep track of, then it sank in the wrong direction once it did set. And I was sick all day. My stomach. And I was light headed.

  The night lasted a long time, and the sun came back up in the wrong place, unless my sense of direction is off. Maybe it is. In any case, I don’t know what happened. Maybe it was the earthquakes? I don’t know. It could’ve been, but it doesn’t seem possible.

  The end of the world people were saying the Earth would stop and then run backwards. Maybe it did, but I didn’t feel weightlessness if it did, or at least I don’t think so. I thought about the vehicles, magnetic poles. Maybe because everything is electronic now they can’t work? I don’t know. It’s just an idea, but I’m thinking I’ll look for an older vehicle to try out my theory on. Like I said, I wish I were a mechanic then I’d know.

  When I found the factory my mind was pretty much made up: I spent a lot of time clearing out the rock and broken bricks, bringing food in and even some chairs, blankets, things like that. I’ve collected a lot of firewood, and every butane lighter I could find. Paper plates, plastic forks and spoons. And, man oh man, coffee. I found a small metal coffee pot in an aisle with household utensils. Probably something no one would ever use in the old world for anything other than camping. It works pretty damn well. I got some heavy duty pots and pans there too.

  All of that over the last few days, but still no other people. It makes me wonder about the tracks that went past my house. Where did they go? Where is there to go? I turn the radio on every once in a while and give a listen, but nothing. Even so I’m keeping my attitude upbeat. Positive. There has to be other people. Doesn’t that just make sense? Winter can’t last much past May, and then it will be time to get out of here... hopefully with other people.

  Katie

  March 9th

  I saw him! I know there is this other person just across the river. It was while we were on the way back, and I happened to look back across the river from the rail trestle, and there he was by the river bank. Climbing it? I think so, but why? And
how can I say it was the same man that belonged to the footprints? I can't. I feel it though. I believe it was him. Who else could it have been?

  I wanted to go back right then, but Jake refused. There was no reason for him to refuse, but he did. We argued about it. I mean really argued. I hadn't realized or really even thought about what it is about Jake that I don't like. Maybe a better way to say that is, what keeps me away from him. Why didn't I, in all this destruction, hopelessness, just fall into his arms, or love, or whatever would pass for love in this world? Isn't that logical? Shouldn't I have? I didn't, and the reason is that he's got this attitude about what place a woman has in his world. It came out today when we argued. I think I picked it up subconsciously before that though, and it kept me away from him.

  Anyway I'm not going to go there. I'm leaving in the morning to go over there and find the man that I saw. I know that sounds crazy. I know it does, but I'm going. I'm getting up at sunrise, and I'm going. Jan and James said they would go with me. If Jake doesn't want to go he doesn't have to. We're not speaking at all. Lydia seems upset by that. She wants him, but not at my expense. I guess that makes me like her a little more than I did.

  I was outside until way after dark looking for firelight on the other side of the river. I didn't see any at all. I don't know that area though. Maybe I wouldn't see a fire over there. Maybe he is being careful. I want to know so much. When will I know it?

  Mexico NY: Mike and Candace

  Early Evening

  Mike had been able to pick up speed once they had left Mexico. The pavement was fairly even, but after the first three or four miles the traffic began to block the highway and they were down to a slow crawl. He could go no faster than ten miles per hour. There were several blind hills, and curves, and there were a lot of abandoned cars and trucks that seemed to be in the least likely places.