12/11/2024
By mid-morning, the rest of the crew began to stir. I spent the night awake. Not thinking. Not dreaming. Just staring. A zombie on watch.
“Blake,” Kaitlyn said. “You’ve been up all night?”
“Yes,” I said. I did not turn around. I did not move.
“We ready?” Zero asked after all the adults were awake. I stood up and took the position as lookout facing forward over the cab, the rifle with me. Drew to watch the back. Same arrangement as last night, only now we needed to keep one eye on the sky.
The drive to my home was slow as molasses. A hundred feet here. Four hundred yards there. The police drones had taken over the duty of patrolling the evacuated areas. We did our best to move when we supposed we were out of range of the cameras. Every time one began to travel overhead, we would tell Zero to stop. Then Drew and I would hop out and hide under the truck. The rest made not a movement inside the cab. Each stop was for thirty seconds, and then the drone was on its way elsewhere. I hoped the truck would appear abandoned on the side of the road. They were just doing a cursory patrol of the area, not looking for anyone in particular. The way I figured it and what I told the group was, we had twenty-four hours at the most to become ghosts. That was how long I calculated it would take for the Army to start looking for us. Well, for me anyway. Then the drones would become real threats. For now, we just needed to avoid drawing attention to ourselves. Again, this was presented as fact to the group.
What would have been a fifteen-minute drive (discounting Friday nights) took three hours in this scenario. It was afternoon when we pulled onto Seagull Dr. The neighborhood looked like we left it. The exception? The spray painted front doors. Every door had a large “X” and a number on top. Most of the homes had the number zero. When we pulled into my driveway, right next to my abandoned car and Kaitlyn’s rental, the number above the “X” on my front door was a nine.
Drew and I jumped out of the truck bed, and everyone appeared eager to get inside. Drew was watching Jane and Natalie as Alicia grabbed a bag from the back.
“Leave the bags,” I said. “We’re not staying long.” She did.
They all looked so skinny. Jenna’s cheeks were gaunt and dirty. Her jeans were torn at the knees. Natalie’s pink jacket was now a pale pink, with brown spots like a spoiled salmon and the bright white puffy ball on the hood, was now a grayish-brown. Alicia’s red hair seemed darker and lost all its shine. Drew always had stringy hair, now he appeared to have a black mop on his head, and his clothes hung on him as hand me downs would look from a much larger older brother. Kaitlyn’s red converse were faded to a light pink, and the white trim was covered in the desert dirt. She probably weighed a hundred pounds. We were in the camp for just three weeks and two days, yet the changes were evident.
As I approached my front door, I noticed the small piece of wood The National Guard had used to drill the door shut, since they blew out the deadbolt and door knob, was broken, and the door was open an inch. A stiff southerly breeze would open the door on its own.
Kaitlyn, who was following me, grabbed my arm. I turned and whispered, “Keep everyone out here.” I pointed to the broken door so she would understand. The rest were just now coming down the walkway toward the front door. I made eye contact and raised my hand. Palm outward. They all stopped. Jenna in front stopped and tilted her head. The Welles family stood behind her. Kaitlyn stepped back in line with the rest of them.
I slung the rifle off my left shoulder and used it to push the door open. The blinds were all closed, and as the light entered from the open door, I could see dust particles floating in the air.
The house looked as we left it, with a few small items out of step with the room. A box of crackers on the dining table, along with seven plastic bottles of water. A backpack that belonged to no one in our group was laid flat on the red couch. But, it wasn’t the dust nor the out of place crackers that put me on edge, it was the smell. A mixture of rotten eggs, spoiled pork, and shit. The smell of death. Of decay. It was a scent I was unfortunate enough to be familiar with.
I entered the living room, rifle at the ready, still in my socks, not too concerned about finding the living, more concerned about who was the culprit behind the smell. No one alive would willingly live in such a place. Keeping to the left. One eye on the kitchen, the other on the opening to the hallway and back rooms. As I came up parallel to the hallway entrance, I side-stepped my way through. The smell was stronger here, making it difficult to breathe. Keeping both the kitchen and hallway in my view. I looked right, then left down the hallway. Slowly I crept down toward the bathroom at the end of the hall. Nothing. The guest bedroom. Nothing. The office, nothing, except it smelled like stale cigarettes mixed with death. Down to the master bedroom. I opened the master bedroom door. The smell overwhelmed me. I turned away from the stench and tried not to vomit on my hallway floor. Took a deep breath and entered my bedroom.
On the bed was a corpse, in an advanced state of decay. A bloated face in a death grin and gray skin peeling away from the cheek bones of a dead man. White liquid oozed around the eyes, ears, and mouth. The eyes appeared brown, but with an egg white coating. Thankfully, my comforter was covering the rest of the body.
I left the room, ran through the house and out the front door. Outside, I sucked in a breath of fresh air. Bent over, my hands on my knees.
“What is it?” Drew asked.
I forgot they were there.
I looked up. “There is a body of a man in my bed.”
“What? Who?” Kaitlyn asked.
I shrugged. “I have no idea.”
With the door still open the smell began to follow me out into the walkway, and I could see my friends catch a whiff of the decay, as their noses crinkled and their eyes widened.
“What now?” Alicia asked with a hand over her nose.
“We still have to grab some supplies and either find the GPS device in the guns or abandon them?” I said. None of them made a move forward. “And I still need to get a new pair of shoes.” I laughed. It was probably inappropriate, and my friends did not seem to think it funny.
Zero and Kaitlyn volunteered. Kaitlyn was to grab whatever was left over in the kitchen. Zero, the camping supplies, and the canned food in the attic. The Welles family and Jenna, waited outside, with an eye on the sky.
I took a deep breath and headed straight to my bedroom. Trying to ignore the body, I opened my closet and found my empty gun safe. It was completely empty. Damn. They took everything. Next to the dresser in the closet, I found my running shoes that had to be at least five years old. But, they would be better for post-apocalyptic survival than the black converse next to them. I ran out of breath and sucked in the rancid air that made me choke. I grabbed some underwear, a jacket, a pair of jeans and another black sweatshirt.
“Blake!” Kaitlyn yelled from somewhere in the house. I gladly left my bedroom with my new clothes and closed the door behind me. Zero was throwing canned food down through the attic opening onto the hallway carpet. Each can landed with a resounding thump.
“What?” I asked as I entered the living room. Kaitlyn was standing in the dining room holding an envelope. She had covered her nose with a kitchen towel that wrapped around her face.
“This was on the kitchen counter,” she said.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know, but it has your name on it.”
I walked over, and she handed it to me. On the envelope were two handwritten names: Blake and William Anderson. A shudder ran from my toes to my fingertips. I dropped my clothes on the floor.
There was a scratch at the back door. Kaitlyn turned and looked.
“What was that?” Zero asked, from the hallway.
“You heard that too?” Kaitlyn asked. Zero nodded and walked past Kaitlyn and me to the back door. Ignoring me and I him. I sat down on the red couch, in a daze. Who could have left this? I, being of absent mind, began putting on my new shoes in a robotic fashion.
“William
’s your brother, right?” Kaitlyn asked, and I nodded.
“What the hell!” Zero yelled from the kitchen.
I opened the envelope and pulled out a two-page letter. From my right, I saw a dog run into the house. It was a white and black Siberian Husky. It ran right up to Kaitlyn who jumped ten feet at the sight. The dogs tail whirled back and forth, a hundred miles an hour. The dogs face had a black mask around the eyes like a villain from an old Three Musketeers movie.
“He was scratching at the door,” Zero said. Kaitlyn bent down with caution to pet the dog as he ran around in a circle in a heightened sense of excitement.
I, meanwhile, found myself attempting to make sense of the letter. Once I saw the handwriting, I knew who had written it.
“Dear Blake and William,
Please forgive me. I know this is the most important thing I needed to say. To say I am sorry. Not that it matters now. If you are reading this (which given the circumstances is highly unlikely), I want you to know I love you both and always will. When I left, those many years ago, I had no inkling that would be the last time I would see you. When I made the arrangement with your mother (It wasn’t my idea). My move to Ohio was supposed to help out the family financially, but instead drove a wedge between us. I won’t bore you with the details, except to say, again, that I am sorry. I was supposed to be there. To see you grow up. To see Blake graduate High School. To see William, get married. To see your Mother happy. Instead, I am now dying of radiation poisoning. For the last two years, I have been living in West Hollywood. A week ago, I was on my porch smoking a cigar. Yes, your mom would’ve forbidden it. I was enjoying myself when I saw it. A sun forming out of nothingness. The warmth went through me, and somehow I survived. At least for a little while. I made the decision to try and find you Blake and hopefully William. But, when I got to this old house, everyone was gone. Already evacuated. I really don’t know what else to say. I am in alot of pain now and won’t last much longer. I love you both and wish we could’ve seen each other one last time.
I am sorry.
-John Anderson
P.S. If you could please check the backyard for my dog, Strider, and take care of him, I would appreciate it. He’s a good dog. A little stubborn, but loyal.
P.S.S. If you are reading this and are not Blake or William, please leave this letter, but take care of the dog. Thanks.”
I sat stunned.
“Doggie!” Natalie said, from the front door. The Siberian Husky ran over to Natalie and almost bowled her over. Jane was there as well trying to hug the dog as soon as it would stay still.
“Who’s?” Alicia asked.
“I don’t know, it was outside,” Zero said.
“We saw a drone overhead, so we came in,” Drew said. His nostrils flared. “Damn it does smell nasty in here, let’s open some windows.”
Kaitlyn sat down next to me. Jenna was still standing by the front door.
“What’s its name, mommy?” Jane asked as both girls had corralled the husky in a group hug, by the front window.
Alicia walked over to the girls and bent down. “I don’t know, does he have a collar?”
“How do you know it’s a he?” Natalie asked.
“I just do.” Alicia grabbed the collar around the dog’s neck and examined the tags. “It looks like the dog’s name is...”
“Strider,” I said.
Alicia looked at me. They all looked at me. “How did you know that?” Alicia asked.
“It’s my dad’s dog,” I said, as I stared at the letter.
“That’s your dad in there?” Kaitlyn asked.
“Yep,” I said.
My dad. My father. Typical of him to write a letter saying he is sorry. What a crock of shit. He left us. He left me. He’s been living forty miles from me for the past six months, and I heard nothing from him. Nothing. He is sorry now? Fuck him. And now he’s dead. I could feel it building in my stomach. My father was dead. Lying in my bed. My mother was dead. All that remained were the books she read. My grandparents were dead. While I live in their homestead. My brother was M.I.A. Long gone and far away. My lips began to quiver. My eyes watered. My best friend from childhood? Dead. At my own hands? No. But not without regret with all I could and should have been. A friend until the end? No.
“Look, mommy, he’s kissing me,” Natalie said as Strider was licking her face, the tail still wagging a hundred miles an hour. The smiles on their faces as the dog licked away was pure joy. The dog had kissed the girls so often you could see lines on their faces where dirt was removed from the cleansing kisses.
I burst at the seams. Crying a deathly wail. My whole body shook. My shaking hands tried to cover my face. Kaitlyn wrapped an arm around me, and still, I wept. I had forgotten how to cry. But, it all came back to me in a giant burst. The girls stopped their assault on the dog and stood up. Drew and Alicia kept quiet, trying unsuccessfully to not stare at this grown man crying with such fervor. Jenna sat down next to me and joined Kaitlyn by embracing me in a hug. I took their warmth and compassion gratefully.
“Oh shit. What happened now?” Zero said as he stood in the kitchen archway holding a large plastic container filled with dog food.
I burst out laughing. A tearful laugh. I couldn’t help it. “Nothing,” I said or at least tried to say in between laughter and tears.
“What now?” Alicia said.
I calmed myself down to a point where I could speak and stood up. Jenna and Kaitlyn stood up along with me. Catching the eyes of everyone I said, “Now? Now we go.”
“What about your dad?” Jenna asked.
“Leave him,” I said and saw the eyes of those around me flicker suspiciously. “I think he would be happy to know we found him and left him where he died.”
EPILOGUE
12/25/2024
As I sit here now and write this last section, a small candle providing my only light, we are ready to celebrate a makeshift Christmas. Natalie and Jane are asleep in front of a fake Christmas tree. The tree we found in an attic. The presents are wrapped (two tablet’s with games preloaded for the kids, and a solar powered charger we discovered in a house in north Fontana, for all of us.) On the couch, Drew and Alicia sleep together, arms around each other, a blanket draped over them. Jenna and Kaitlyn are asleep next to the kids, wrapped in sleeping bags. Strider is asleep as well at the feet of the children. Zero is upstairs, in a second story bedroom on the lookout.
For the past two weeks, we have been house-hopping day to day. We’ve stayed off the radar of the drones by slowly moving east. Through backyards. Through neighborhoods. Through towns. We have found water. Food. Pet supplies.
This house, which we made into our temporary home for the past three days, is at the northernmost point of San Bernardino, a block away from the road that will take us over the mountains and on our way to Utah. A new suburban development, surrounded by homes built fifty years ago.
We are beginning to look like character’s out of an eighties post-apocalyptic movie. Zero started to wear a bandanna around his head, another over his face and an assault rifle slung over his shoulder. (We found and destroyed the GPS tracker embedded in the bolt carrier group.) He moves the vehicles as we traveled east; his truck and Kaitlyn’s rental car. Kaitlyn is the nanny of our group, watching after the dog and kids during the day, while the rest of us explore our surroundings and pillage what we need. Drew and Alicia, became our rear guard. Jenna and I, the front scouts. We have run into no one. The Inland Empire is deserted. If there are others out here, we have not seen them. A vast suburbia, ripe for the picking. And pick we do. The truck has been packed to its capacity.
As the first light of morning is approaching, I will finish this portion of the story. We have survived. It will not be an easy trip to Utah, with winter in full swing and an unknown world out there. But, we are ready to go.
If we make it to Utah, I will write that story as well. For now, this is it. I end this as Jane begins to stir and, eventually sits up.
“It is,” I say from the small table in the dining room. She turns and looks at me with a broad smile. I smile back. My new family begins to stir, and I feel happier than I have in a long time.
About The Author
Aaron M. Carpenter was a Theatre Arts Major, a Real Estate Tax Searcher, a Data Analyst, owner of a Video Production company and, now, an Author. He lives with his dog, Strider, in West Jordan, Utah.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
EPILOGUE
About The Author
The Ending is Everything Page 23