The Survivor Journals Omnibus [Books 1-3]

by Little, Sean Patrick

  “I don’t think anyone has been here for at least a year,” Ren said. “I would have thought people would have come here to live. Resettle the country.”

  “I guess they did at first.” I opened a drawer and poked through a desk in one of the bedrooms.

  “Maybe thirty or forty people still alive in New York. About half of them, maybe more, came to New York after the Flu was over, though. The first weeks after everyone died, there were only a handful of us roaming New York from what I saw. You said you found at least three others, though they’re dead now. Judging from the damage around here, maybe five or six more people. That sound about right?” Ren closed her eyes to do the math. “That’s what, let’s say fifty people we can be sure are still alive.”

  “Okay. Let’s go with that. If that figure holds true, and we project it throughout the rest of the US, maybe we hit what—two hundred? Two-fifty?”

  “Safe estimate.” Ren poked through a different drawer, found a solar calculator, and hacked in some numbers. “If that’s true, that’s like a tiny fraction of the population. If it held true throughout the world, we’re looking at something like maybe only six-thousand people still alive in the world, give or take. Six thousand out of what was almost eight billion. That’s like what, one ten-millionth of the population or something?”

  I knew towns back in Wisconsin that were comprised of six thousand people. It was hard to picture one of those little places being the entire world.

  Ren fell back into a desk chair. She looked defeated. Her face was slack. The melancholy etched into her expression was unmistakable. “There’s no coming back from that, is there? The world is really done, isn’t it?”

  I didn’t know how to answer her. I had the same sentiment. Humanity was over.

  We walked through the second story to the West Wing of the White House. The West Wing had survived the anger of an unknown crowd no better than the East Wing. We went to the Oval Office. The door was hanging wide open. At some point, someone had battered it from the frame, probably with a sledgehammer. The door was heavy reinforced steel. The person or people who’d breached the room had to knock the door from its hinges. The wall around the doorframe was wrecked.

  The Oval Office looked like pictures I’d seen, except the office had been entirely trashed. The couches in the center of the room had been slashed with knives. Stuffing was everywhere. The pictures on the walls had been ripped down and spray-painted or slashed. The sculptures were shattered on the floor. The chair where the President normally would have sat behind his desk was slashed to ribbons. The desk drawers were all dumped. And, as a crowning glory, someone had left a healthy defecation on the desk, dead center.

  “Lovely.” Ren eyed the dried pile. “Looks like he had a lot of fiber in his diet.”

  “I can’t believe this place got destroyed like this. I would have wanted to live here or something. Maybe declare myself President of the United States of America. I don’t understand the mindset of someone who sees this place and thinks that it needs to be wrecked.” I moved to the desk. On the side of the wood, someone had carved Good-bye America. Good-bye World.

  “Anarchy. True anarchy.” Ren flopped on one of the couches. “The country fell. The world fell. Everyone died. No more governments. No more world rulers. It was all done. Why not destroy the symbols of it?”

  I crossed to the couch opposite Ren. I sat carefully on the shredded cushions. “I guess I hadn’t expected anyone to still be alive here in D.C. If anyone is still alive, they’re in that bunker in Virginia.”

  “Probably. I know the Vice-President was showing signs of the Flu before TV went off. He’s dead now; I guarantee it.”

  “The President looked okay,” I said. “That speech before television signed off was pretty good.”

  “The First Lady didn’t. Did you see her nose? It was all red. She had the start of it. If she had it, the Prez was infected, too. That bunker in Virginia is probably a mausoleum now. The only way you and me got through this was dumb luck. We won a genetic lottery.”

  I leaned back on the couch. The cushions did not feel right. It was uncomfortable. “You ever think about why you’re still alive? It doesn’t seem right, you know? Out of eight billion people, the Flu didn’t affect you. You ever remember being sick in your life?”

  Renata’s eyes looked up and off to the left. “No. I remember being angry at my brother because of his CF. He got to stay home from school a lot, and I never did. Neither did Elena.”

  “Me too. I used to have to fake sick just to stay home. I’d hold a heating pad to my forehead to fake a fever just so I could stay home and play a new video game or something. I was never sick.”

  Renata glanced around the Oval Office. “Ever just stop and think, Why me?”

  “Every second of every day.”

  “Would have been easier to pull a trigger on myself after my sister died, you know? Less heartache. Less struggle. Less worry.”

  “Less fear.” My voice came out as a whisper.

  “Yeah!” Renata leaned forward. “Less fear! I spent too many nights scared to death, scared I might get taken by the Patriots, scared I might starve or freeze. Why are we here, man?”

  I couldn’t answer her. I was searching for that meaning, myself. I told her about the Indiana preppers, Jim and Nancy. I told her about their supply store and how they left the world with a gun in their garage.

  Renata shook her head and gave a weak laugh. “I never watched those prepper TV shows, you know? I figured anything that came down, it was gonna kill me, too. I was expecting nuclear war or maybe zombies. I figured being prepared for an apocalypse was a waste of time, because no one sane would want to keep living after the power grids and sanitation stopped working.”

  “So why did you keep living?” This is a question I came to terms with in the first days after the end of the Flu. The only answer I could come up with was that I was still living just to spite Nature.

  “At first, it was for Carlos. He needed help. After he died, I still had Elena. We had each other. It was almost fun sometimes. We broke into people’s places and took what we needed. We took batteries and played CDs and danced. We broke into stores and took haute couture, you know? We dressed up like fashion models and swam in rich people’s pools. It was fun, for a while. But, after she died…I guess I don’t know why I’m still alive. Maybe it’s because I’m too much of a coward to end it.”

  “Did you ever…try?”

  Renata licked her lips. She looked at her hands. “Once. Had the gun in my mouth, finger on the trigger, but I couldn’t find the strength to pull it. I just started crying.”

  That sounded familiar. “Me too.”

  “Do you believe we’re here for a greater purpose? Like, maybe there is a God and this is His test for us?”

  I shrugged. I had no real answers. And even if I did, it felt sort of moot at this point. “I don’t know. Maybe. Seems like a pretty extreme test, though. Like, I would have been fine if God would have just let me find a wallet with a thousand dollars in it to see if I would have kept it, or if I would have turned it in. That’s probably all the testing I really needed.”

  Renata laughed. “Yeah. This is like when you went to school expecting a pop quiz and instead the teacher throws a research paper at you.”

  “I don’t miss those.”

  “Me neither. I’m kind of mad that the Flu didn’t hold off for another month, though.” Renata held out her thumb and forefinger almost touching. “I was this close to getting my B.A. I almost had a degree.”

  “In what?”

  “Nursing. Like my sister.” Renata stood up from the couch. “It would have been nice to take that walk and get the paper. I was really looking forward to seeing my dad cry. He cried when Elena got hers. Bawled his eyes out during the ceremony. He came to this country from Venezuela when he was sixteen. He never went to school or anything. He just got a job and worked his ass off as a garbage man to provide for us.” Ren moved toward the d
oor. She swiped a tear from her eye with her fingers. “I just wanted him to be proud of me, too.”

  “I’m sure he was proud of you.” It was a hollow condolence, but I had to say something.

  “Oh, I know he was.” Renata’s voice steadied. “He told me so before he died. I just really wanted to give him that gift of seeing me in that cap and gown. I wanted him to see me be successful.”

  There was a Bible on the floor of the Oval Office, a thick, leather-bound version near the desk. I leapt off the couch and grabbed it. “We can give him another gift, how about that?” I held out the Bible. “Renata, how would you like to be sworn in as the President of the United States of America?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Stupid. I’m not thirty-five.”

  “Speaking as the only other human being in Washington D.C., which makes me the senior lawmaker in America, I’m waiving that stipulation. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I just held an emergency election and you won unanimously.”

  Her eyes narrowed for a second. “What if I become a tyrant dictator?”

  “There will be a general election to remove you from office.”

  “And how will you accomplish that?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Are you ticklish?”

  She raised her own eyebrow. “If you try to find out, I’m gonna kick you in the balls.”

  “That’s a yes, then. If you become a tyrant dictator, the people shall tickle you until you relinquish your office.”

  Ren hesitated. She jutted out her hand. “Deal. Swear me in, man.”

  I held out the Bible. She put her hand on it. “Repeat after me: I, Renata…”

  “I, Renata…”

  “Uh…I don’t know your last name,” I whispered.

  She whispered back, “Lameda.”

  I cleared my throat. “I, Renata Lameda, do solemnly swear to uphold the Constitution of the United States of America.”

  She repeated my words. “Wasn’t there supposed to be something about ‘executing the Office of the President of the United States?’”

  I looked around at the debris around us. “I think the office has already been executed.”

  “Good point. I accept your appointment of me as President, so help me God. I look forward to leading this nation into a bleak, unknown future free from corruption and big corporations. I shall hereby be known as the Back to Pioneer Times President.”

  I tossed the Bible aside and clapped. “I guess we’re starting to rebuild America, aren’t we?”

  She bowed. “Thank you. I agree. I bet one of those Patriot assholes has already thought to declare himself President, though.”

  “Did he get sworn-in in the Oval Office? I think not. We shall refuse to accept his declaration.”

  “I agree,” said Renata. She picked up her shotgun. “I declare the Patriots enemies of the State, and refuse to acknowledge their sovereignty. As my first official act of office, I declare that Washington D.C. is no longer the capitol of America.” She started heading for the door.

  “Really? Where’s the new capitol?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know, yet. Somewhere in the South.” She looked over her shoulder at me. “C’mon, Twist. Let’s go find a home.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Long Empty Roads

  We left Washington and went south toward Richmond, Virginia. The sun fell low in the sky near Fredericksburg. I pulled off the highway and found a gas station near some woods where we could set up a decent campsite well away from the gas pumps. I started to erect camp, and it quickly became apparent that Renata’s camp skills were almost nil. She’d been purely scavenging, living day to day since the Flu. She knew how to light a fire off of newspaper, and only had wood because she’d used an axe to hack up furniture. I had to show her how to hunt down firewood and simple comfort items like camp chairs, which were always available from someone’s front porch nearby. I had to show her how to unload the necessary gear from the RV. She was a quick learner, though. She watched me with fascination as I moved around setting up wood in a pyramid shape and starting the fire with dry pine needles as tinder. Instead of a match, I used a magnifying lens that I found in the gas station. It only took a few seconds of concentrating the sun through the lens and angling it to the needles before a few embers sparked and quickly caught flame. I was showing off, I admit.

  “That’s some real Boy Scout stuff right there,” she said. “Amazing.”

  “How’d you survive the past year if you didn’t know how to do this?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I made it somehow. Sheer force of will. You look like you really know what you’re doing, though.”

  “I’m no outdoorsman by nature. I learned over the past year. A real trial by fire. It’s not too difficult once you get the hang of it, but to maintain, it’s really time consuming. I don’t know how people used to do it. Like the pioneers, the pilgrims—how did they survive? We might have been thrown for a bit of a loop here, but at least we still have a lot of modern advancements.” The fire bit into the wood and climbed to a nice little flame in moments. White smoke streamed upward.

  Ren inhaled the wood smoke deeply. “This is like real camping.” She sat back in the lawn chair I unfolded for her and put her feet toward the fire. After a few seconds, she kicked off her shoes and peeled her socks. She wriggled her toes gleefully in the heat of the flames. “I could get used to this.”

  “I don’t think you have much of a choice in the matter,” I told her. “This is how it is now whether we like it or not.”

  I showed Ren how to pump gas for the RV. She watched me pump for ten minutes, and then I gave her a chance to help out. After five minutes, she was looking at me like I was insane. “And this is how you have to do it every time? My shoulders already hurt.”

  “Every single time. Takes about a half hour of solid pumping to fill the tank.”

  “No wonder you look so ripped.”

  I never once in my life had been told I looked ripped. I was a little doughy until the Flu struck (thanks, job at McDonald’s…), and then I had to start working harder for my daily existence. I guess not eating a Big Mac a day and being forced to work constantly just to continue to live had made positive changes in at least one aspect of my life. I know I blushed when she said it. I wanted to issue a smart comeback, but I was tongue-tied at that moment. I didn’t say anything. I guess I was a lot more “ripped” than I used to be. Figures, though: best shape of my life and only one person to see it. If society ever magically rebuilds itself, I will write a book and call it The Post-Apocalypse Pioneer Diet Plan: One Year of Starvation and Daily Struggle to a New You.

  For dinner, I made ramen with canned chicken. I found some green onions in an overgrown window box planter of a house near the gas station so I cut them and threw them in for color and flavor. After dinner, I showed Ren how I washed dishes and silverware. I showed her how I repacked the gear for the next day’s travel. Then, that was it. We each sat in a canvas-covered, steel-framed lawn chair staring at the fire and sipping on warm root beer.

  These journals I am writing are for the future, a hopeful future where the American people have rebuilt society and my little stories provide a record of how we lived in the early days of the Flu until rebuilding was possible. If you’re reading this far in the future, let me recommend the activity of staring at a campfire to you if you’ve never tried it. Flames are hypnotic. If you have never spent time seriously watching them, you should. Don’t become an arsonist or something, but sit back and learn to appreciate the beauty of flames. There is something supernatural about them. They dance and weave, they swell and dive. One moment it shivers like a dancer, and the next a tongue of flame can crack like a whip. Fire can be destructive, but when it’s controlled and contained, it soothes. Flames have always made me feel myriad emotions. It feels like they tap into something ancient, something primal. I can be swelled by comfort, and then destroyed by melancholy in a matter of seconds. When I sit before flames and cle
ar my mind, I feel at peace with the Universe, like I’m where I’m supposed to be in the grand scheme of the cosmos. Maybe I’m not. Maybe I never was. But, those flames erased doubts and fears. I was able to take a vacation from the world every night for a few minutes. Looking back on those many, many nights of sitting in front of the hearth in the library, or sitting in front of small bonfires outside, those nights might have been the only thing that truly kept me from losing it out there.

  Or maybe I’m just full of myself.

  “What do you miss most?” Ren’s voice roused me from my flame hypnosis.

  “What?”

  Ren sat up in her chair and leaned forward to poke the ashes on the edge of the fire with a long, thin stick. “What do you miss most?”

  I thought for a second. “My parents, I guess.”

  Ren rolled her eyes. “Not who. What. What thing or things?”

  “I don’t really know.” I thought for a bit. A year ago, I would have said TV, the Internet, movies, football games, taking everything for granted. I closed my eyes and sorted through everything I’d done without for the past year. I finally came up with something. “Pizza.”

  “You already told me that. Out of everything in the world, you really miss pizza the most?”

  “I think so.” I thought for another second. “I will never again get Pizza Hut, or Domino’s, or Little Caesars…so, yeah, I think I miss pizza the most right now.”

  “Chain restaurants.” Ren made a face. “New York had great pizza. Real pizza. Mom-and-pop restaurant pizza. I could go for a big floppy slice right now in the worst way. What was your favorite kind?”

  “Brand, or toppings?”

  “Toppings, man. Of course.”

  “I’d eat anything you put in front of me, but I really loved any sort of bacon cheeseburger pizza. Extra cheese, of course.”