He stretched, poured himself a cup of coffee, and pondered the pile of papers in front of him.
This was a project that was going to take awhile.
-28-
Hi, sweetheart.
I feel really stupid. I guess I owe you an apology. And, truth be told, I owe Jesse Simpson an apology too.
I still think he looks like the world’s biggest nerd, but I apparently misjudged him.
I was looking through another of your old yearbooks last night. This one was from your senior year. Great pic, by the way. You were already a doll even way back then.
Anyway, something caught my eye.
I don’t know if remember one of your friends named Tammy Crenshaw, but she signed your yearbook as follows:
“Sarah Anna, Thank you for letting me be the first to sign your yearbook…”
There was more after that, but that’s all I read before the light finally came on inside my dumb head.
It finally dawned on me that in the other yearbook, when Jesse Simpson said thank you for letting him be the first, he wasn’t talking about taking your virginity. He was talking about being the first to sign your yearbook.
Boy, do I feel stupid. And I guess it’s a good thing I wasn’t there with you in high school. I’d have pummeled poor Jesse for nothing.
As dumb as I feel, at least my faith in your judgment is restored. It’s been bugging me lately that you’d once been intimate with someone who looked like Jerry Lewis in The Nutty Professor. Now I know that you’re really only interested in big strong handsome types.
Like me, for example.
I’ve been going through all the stuff you printed off the internet and sorting it all out and trying to rearrange it so we can easily find what we need. I started a few nights ago, and I’m making pretty good progress.
I have to say, I’m impressed by all the information you thought to save. I mean, I never would have thought about saving information on how to build and set traps for small animals, or how to tell a fox track from a raccoon track. But everything you printed, no matter how bizarre it may be, might come in handy some day. And you, my little angel, are also my hero. I’m so proud of what you were able to accomplish all those nights you were huddled over your computer while I was watching ball games.
I love you.
I’m hoping this project will keep me occupied and keep me from going insane. That worries me because of a new habit I’ve developed lately.
This will either worry you or make you laugh. I’m not sure myself whether it’s just stupid or dangerous.
But I’ve begun carrying on long conversations with Mikey, the dead guy in our kitchen.
No, he hasn’t started answering me. If he does, that’ll be a sign that I’ve really lost my mind.
But here’s the weird part. I started out talking to him when I apologized for killing him every time I went into the kitchen and saw him. Then, I started chewing him out for breaking into our house and stealing our things. And for some reason, talking to him seemed to give me a little bit of comfort.
I know, you think I’m nuts. And maybe I am. But talking to Mikey is the closest thing I can do to talk to another human being, without having to walk two blocks to Frank and Eva’s house and exposing myself to the outside world.
And the nice thing about Mikey is he’s a great listener.
He never argues or interrupts me like you do. He’s always there when I feel a need to cry, or need a shoulder to lean on. Granted, his shoulder’s pretty cold. But it still makes me feel better to talk to him.
I haven’t decided whether talking to a dead guy is a step up from talking to rabbits or not. But I seldom see Lindsey and Beth anymore. They’re always in their burrow.
I can’t say that I blame them. I found a note from Frank and Eva. They want me to come over and talk to them about something, but I keep putting it off.
I keep saying I’ll go when the weather breaks. But it never does. It’s been no higher than twenty degrees for three weeks now. And that’s in the hottest part of the day. At night, when I’d have to get out, it’s always below zero.
And you know I’m not a cold weather person, which is why we live in San Antonio to begin with.
I’m starting to wonder why this winter is starting out so vicious and whether or not it’s just a fluke. I mean, I’ve lived in San Antonio nearly my whole life, and I’ve never seen a winter like this.
I’m also starting to worry whether or not the EMP damaged the earth’s climate somehow, or did something to the weather patterns or something. Maybe it’s eighty degrees in Anchorage right now.
Such thoughts defy logic, I know. But after all, I really needed something else to worry about, right?
Give the girls a kiss for me. Tell them I love them lots. And tell them when this is over, when the world is back to normal again, never to let some geek like Jesse Simpson sign their yearbooks “Thank you for letting me be the first.”
Unless of course, they hate the geek and want their boyfriends to beat him up.
Love me forever, sweet princess. That’s how long I’ll love you.
-29-
A week later, Dave finally got a respite from the cold snap.
He couldn’t exactly call it a heat wave, but the daytime temperatures were hovering right around thirty or so, and a couple of days it actually went above freezing for a little while.
Not long enough to thaw anything.
But long enough to let him know that the world wouldn’t always be a popsicle after all.
It also reminded him that he owed Frank and Eva a visit, and he was tired of putting it off.
He set his alarm clock to go off at eight p.m. He knew it would be getting dark outside then, but the temperature wouldn’t drop to the place where it would be a few hours later.
Dave despised cold weather.
The worst part about going to visit with Frank and Eva was that he’d have to delay building his fire until after he returned.
It was tempting, cranking up a fire before he left, so he had a nice warm safe room to return to an hour or two later.
But it just wasn’t worth the risk. If a stray ember floated out of the fire and onto the carpet, or his bed, he’d come back to a raging inferno. He wouldn’t have to worry about what to do with Mikey’s body, sure. But in the ashes of his home, mixed in with the ashes Mikey would leave behind, would be the charred remains of his food, his water bottles… everything.
If that happened, he’d have to ride out the winter in the Castros’ house, foraging for food and water, like all the other poor souls who’d been caught totally unprepared.
It just wasn’t worth the risk.
By nine, Dave was through the fence and in the Castros’ back yard, slowly sliding open their patio door. He sniffed the air, to make sure there was no fire in the fireplace. That would have meant someone was taking refuge in the house.
There was no fire, meaning no one was there. If there had been, they’d be dead within hours without a fire to warm them.
His night vision goggles in place, he made his way through the house and to the front door, where he repeated his usual procedure. He opened the door slowly, careful to watch out for anyone approaching from either direction on the street. Then he crept out onto the porch, using the low shrubs in front of the house as cover.
Once in the shrubs, he had an unobstructed view up and down the street. When he was convinced it was clear in both directions, he could dart to the next stand of shrubs, or behind a stalled car, or a car in a driveway.
Then he’d repeat the process.
He expected the cold weather to keep most people indoors. If he were a scavenger, he’d be holed up somewhere, in front of a fire, trying to stretch whatever provisions he had until the cold snap ended.
So he didn’t expect to see anyone out tonight. But he still had to be cautious.
It took him just under half an hour to cover the two blocks to Frank’s front door. He knocked, noticing how much
louder his knock seemed to be in the frigid temperatures.
He tried to whisper a yell, and found it was impossible to do so. To get his voice loud enough for Frank to hear him, the neighbors would be able to also.
But he had no choice. To knock without announcing himself might be suicide. Frank might be the kind of guy who shot first and asked questions later.
He reasoned that it really didn’t matter much if the neighbors heard him. The whole neighborhood knew that Frank and Eva lived there. They weren’t trying to hide their presence as Dave was doing. He knocked a second time, then a third, while shouting, “Frank! It’s Dave!”
Finally, a voice from inside the house:
“Hold on a minute, Dave. Let me get my gear on.”
It was another thirty seconds before the door cracked open.
“Are you alone?”
“Yes, sir.”
The door opened all the way.
The room was only moderately warm, but it felt heavenly to Dave.
He took off his goggles and looked around. The room was lit only by the fire in the fireplace, which was going strong but having to fight hard to heat the lightly insulated room.
A double mattress lay on the floor in front of the fire. On the mattress, under half a dozen comforters and blankets, was Eva. She was either sound asleep or trying to get there. Only the top of her head was visible, peeking out from beneath the covers. And it was covered by a bright pink knit stocking cap.
Frank looked at Dave with a finger to his lips to keep him from talking. Then he picked up a flashlight from an end table and motioned for Dave to follow him into another room.
In the kitchen, Frank spoke in a low voice.
“Pretty cold out there, huh?”
“Colder than the devil’s heart.”
“Yes, sir, buddy. I reckon that would be pretty cold.”
“You know, Frank, I can help you insulate your living room so it would be a lot more comfortable in here.”
“That’s okay, my friend. It’s tolerable during the days. And at night, it just gives us a chance to snuggle, like we used to do when we were youngsters. All in all, it’s not a bad way to live. We’re both from the upper peninsula of Michigan, you see. The cold normally don’t bother us much. Now, granted, this is a lot worse than it usually gets down in these parts. But it’ll pass, I reckon. We’ll just tolerate it until it does.”
“Frank, I’m sorry it took me so long to come back. I left one of my bags full of empty bottles outside my fence when I went home that night. It just happened to be the one where you put your note. I just found it a few days ago.”
“I figured something like that happened. Eva told me to staple it to the outside of the bag, but I rarely listen to Eva. Maybe I should start.”
“What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Wait right here. Let me crank up my generator.”
Frank disappeared into the garage for a minute, and Dave heard the meaty roar of a generator come to life. A floor lamp in the kitchen immediately came on.
Frank returned and said, “Follow me to the spare bedroom.”
-30-
Dave was impressed. The spare bedroom was configured much like his safe room, with a love seat piled high with blankets, a television and DVD player, and a microwave.
“This is where Eva and I hang out a lot during the daylight hours. It’s cozy and gives us something to do to pass our time.”
The most impressive thing in the room, though, was sitting in the corner at a small desk.
“Do you know what this is, Dave?”
“It looks like some kind of two way radio.”
“It’s a ham radio. I can use it to talk to people all over the world. It was a hobby of mine even before the blackout, and a lot of the people I conversed with back then were also preppers. Many of them, like me, had a backup unit stashed inside their Faraday cages to help everyone stay in touch after the world went to black.”
Dave was impressed, but failed to see how Frank’s radio could help him personally.
“Wow, Frank. That’s pretty cool.”
“You thought to save bunnies and seeds, Dave. I thought to save a portal to the outside world. And that’s why I wanted to talk to you. You said your family was flying to Kansas City when the blackout happened, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“One of the guys I communicate with sometimes lives in the Kansas City area. I’m not sure where, exactly. Most of us keep our exact locations a secret, so we don’t draw in bandits looking to see what other goodies we may have been able to save. But he’s usually on around this time of night if you want to try to raise him.”
“Sure. Why not? Maybe he can answer some of the questions I’ve got about the situation up there.”
Frank sat in front of the radio and turned it on.
“Run into the dining room and get a chair to sit on while I’m trying to find him.”
Dave did as he was told, and sat down beside his friend.
“Mark in K.C., are you on tonight?”
Dave said, “I thought when you used the ham radio you had to use your call number or FCC number or something.”
“Those days are long gone, Dave. Now it’s more like a CB radio.”
“A what?”
“A CB radio. Citizens band. Like truckers used to use. At one time, they were pretty popular among the non-trucker crowd too. That was back in the 70s and 80s. The fad petered out a long time ago.”
“I don’t remember it.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. I reckon it was a bit before your time.”
The radio remained silent. Frank tried again.
“Mark in K.C., this is Frank in south Texas. You on board tonight?”
Ten more seconds of silence ticked by. Frank said, “I guess he’s taking a night off.”
Then, as though Frank’s words were its cue, the radio sprang to life.
“Hello, Frank. How are things in south Texas?”
“Cold, Mark. Very cold.”
“I hear you and feel your pain. Do you guys have any snow down there yet?”
“No. Too dry for that. Knock on wood. Just bitter cold and bone chilling winds.”
“Well, consider yourself lucky, Frank. We’ve got over three feet now. It comes down a little at a time and doesn’t go anywhere. The temperature hasn’t been high enough to melt it in three weeks now. I’ve got a path to my outhouse with snow over my waist on both sides now. If it gets over my head I’m gonna walk to Tahiti.”
“I guess it’s hard for you to get out now, huh?”
“Yes it is, Frank. But we see that as a good thing. Those of us who prepared for this thing are hunkered down. We’ve got food to eat, and the snow is giving us plenty of water to drink. So we don’t need to get out. The good news is, it’s keeping the bandits and looters away. Hopefully most of them will starve to death because they can’t get out to steal food anymore.”
“Yeah, that would be a good thing, I guess. But most of the other survivors who are just scavenging to survive are in the same boat.”
“True enough. I’ve been hearing an awful lot of gunshots lately in the neighborhoods around me. Not gunshots like in shootouts. Gunshots placed evenly, a few seconds apart. Families giving up. But I can’t dwell on that. There’s nothing I can do to help them, and maybe they’re going to a better place.”
Frank winced at Mark’s words, unsure how Dave would react to the news that it was so bad in Kansas City.
“Mark, before we go any further with that, I have a friend here who has family up in your area somewhere. I was hoping you might be able to answer some of his questions.”
“I’ll try. But I haven’t been off my property since the blackout began, so I’m not sure how much help I can be.”
This was finally Dave’s chance to get some of his questions answered.
Frank handed him the microphone. Dave was excited, yet a bit apprehensive. Almost afraid at what the answers might be.
He reached out for the microphone, and was surprised to see that his hand was shaking.
“Mark, my name is Dave. My wife and daughters were flying into Kansas City right around the time the power went out. They were never able to call me to tell me they’d landed, so I don’t know if they made it.”
He didn’t want to finish his question, but he had to.
“Do you know what effect the EMP had on airplanes that were in the air?”
Instead of answering Dave’s question directly, Mark reached out to another operator.
“Stan the Man, this is Mark. Are you on tonight?”
“Yeah, Mark. Just sitting here listening in.”
“Stan, I’m too far away from the airport to answer Dave’s question. You’re closer to it than I am. Can you answer that one?”
“No. I mean, I don’t know what happened to the airplanes that were in the sky. I never saw any of them falling out of the sky, if that’s what he’s asking. But you have to remember, I was taking a nap on my couch when the blackout happened. By the time I woke up it was an hour after. So if they fell out of the sky it would have happened long before I got up and looked outside.
“I will say one thing. I could see a lot of thick black smoke coming from the airport area the rest of that day and into the next. I don’t know what was burning or where it was coming from, but it was in that general direction. I remembered wondering why it burned for so long, and then finally figured out the water plant was down, and they had no water to put on the fire. And no fire trucks to get to it. It finally burned itself out by the second day.
“I remember also seeing a couple of other plumes from fires. They could have been from crashed airplanes. Or maybe from vehicles that crashed into each other when their engines all died. I don’t know. I wish I could give you a better answer.
“If your family made it in, did they have a safe place to stay?”
“Yes. They were going to visit with relatives.”
An Unkind Winter (Alone Book 2) Page 11