Time was another concern. How long was the wall going to take? The power could be back on before it was finished, and they’ll have spent a lot of the local resources trying to build it. Burt argued that if everyone pitched in, they might have it built in under a month.
A month? Molly mused. Could the power really be off for another month? Jimmy’s warnings echoed in her mind, but she didn’t think even he thought it would be out that long.
She brushed her building panic aside and shook her head. “What about know-how, Burt? Who’s going to design and actually be in charge of building this wall? I don’t know about you, but I’m an English professor. I don’t know anything about architecture or how to build a wall that will stand up for any length of time.”
“Well, I’m willing to bet that there’s someone here who knows about this stuff. Craig, aren’t you a general contractor?” Craig nodded, and Burt continued. “You might be able to get us started at least.”
Craig looked irritated. “I don’t know anything about building a wall from scratch, Burt. You can’t just volunteer me for such a giant undertaking and expect me to go along with it. Anyway, why should I waste time on such a ridiculous idea? I have my own family to look out for.”
Burt frowned. “Craig, if you help to protect the town, your family will be protected, too.”
He scoffed, and all Craig’s cronies nodded. “Who died and made you king of the Blackout?” His supporters chuckled.
One of them piped up, “Yeah, we don’t have to do anything you say.”
Molly could see this wasn’t constructive. “Listen. It’s only been a week. I say we wait one more week, and if there’s still no power and no word from anyone about when this is going to be over, then we start to build. In a few days, we can even start gathering materials if you like. But I just don’t want to waste valuable resources if we can help it.”
She paused and looked at the hostile dissenters. “Listen, if the power is still out, we’ll need to reevaluate. You guys will want to decide which side of the wall you want to be on. Because let me tell you, if you’re not willing to help, you’re not going to reap the benefits from it, either.”
Craig and his companions shifted, exchanging glances at Molly’s bold assertion.
With that, it was decided they would wait a week. Molly hoped the power would be back by then, and this wall business would be a non-issue.
It was ten days after the Blackout when it happened – nearly Halloween. It was still warm in Florida, but the nights were nice, and most were comfortable sleeping with the windows open.
They were even starting to adjust to a farming way of life. They went to bed earlier and got up earlier in order to save candles. Most homes were pretty dark inside that night.
Molly was upstairs with Sally and Dug when she heard it. A crash, but it didn’t sound close. Dug and Sally weren’t bothered by it, but Molly was concerned.
She had been sleeping for at least a few hours. Who would be moving around at this hour? she thought.
She went downstairs in her pajamas and peered out the front window, trying to discern the direction the sound came from. That’s when she heard the scream, followed by a gunshot.
Molly ran outside towards the noise. Later, she would wonder what she thought she would do in her bare feet, Eeyore pajama pants and a Central Michigan University t-shirt. At the time, though, all she cared about was that someone needed help and she was going to provide it if she could.
However, once she got into the middle of the street, it was quiet again, and she wasn’t sure where the sounds had come from. Molly knew they were in front of her, but there were several homes in that general direction. Burt eventually came out of his house a few doors down and saw Molly standing in the street.
“Are you OK? What happened?” he said as he juggled his baseball bat while tying his robe.
“I don’t know. It wasn’t me. I heard a crash, then a scream and a gunshot, so I came out, but I haven’t heard anything since.”
They listened to the crickets for a moment longer before a kid ran out between two homes in their direction. “Help! It’s my dad!” It was one of the neighbor boys from the next street over. Molly didn’t remember what his name was. Their family had a few blonde-headed kids ranging in age from eight to twelve.
They followed him between fences and hedges to arrive at the backyard of his home, where the back door was wide open. There were cries coming from inside. Burt led the way with his baseball bat ready for action.
The boy’s mother was sitting on the floor of the kitchen with her husband’s head in her lap. She was crying and stroking his hair. It was dark, but from the flickering candlelight, a dark pool could be seen accumulating under his body. His eyes were closed, but he appeared to be breathing.
Burt dropped the bat immediately and went to the man’s side. “What happened here?”
“It was a Wanderer. He broke in, and Kyle came to see what the sound was.” She hiccupped a bit, like you do when you’re crying hard, and went on. “He had a gun.” Hiccup. “Kyle didn’t want any trouble,” hiccup, “he didn’t,” hiccup, “even have,” hiccup, “anything to,” hiccup, “fight him with.” She sobbed openly for a few moments.
When she regained some composure, she explained, “By the time I came downstairs the man was running out of the house with an armful of our food.”
There was no doctor living in the neighborhood. The best Molly could think of was the woman who worked in the pharmacy. She lived just around the corner.
“Should I go wake Betty?”
Burt looked at Kyle and lifted his shirt. “Probably. Although I’m not sure what she’s going to be able to do.”
Molly looked at the man, bleeding in his kitchen. “Well, it’s the best chance I can think to give him.” She turned her gaze to Burt and lowered her voice. “We can’t just stand here and watch him die.” Burt nodded and she sprang into action.
The boys were hovering around, so Molly gave them something to do. “I need someone to boil some water, and someone else to collect some towels; can you boys do that?” They nodded gravely and set about their tasks.
“I’ll be right back,” Molly said as she ran out the door.
Molly arrived at Betty’s house in record time and banged on the door. “BETTY! WAKE UP! There’s been an accident! We need your help! Betty!” It all came out in a single stream, covered over by her rapping on the door.
Betty’s husband answered. “Molly. What’s this about?”
“George! We need help! Kyle from a few streets over has been shot by a Wanderer. We need Betty to see if there’s anything she can do. She was the closest person we could think of.”
Betty peered out from behind her husband and nodded. “Just let me get my shoes and a few supplies from the store room.”
George sprinted back to the boys’ home with them. He didn’t like the idea of two women running around in the dark when there was an armed Wanderer on the loose.
By the time Betty arrived, Kyle’s breathing was shallow at best. Sandra looked at her with pleading eyes. “Please, you have to help him.” The boys had the water boiling and Burt had already applied a few of the towels to the wound in his chest.
“I’ll do what I can.”
She toiled over him for only a few minutes before he stopped breathing. She instructed Burt to start CPR and explained how to properly administer it while she continued working to stop the bleeding. The candle burned a half-inch of wax while they handed her supplies and tried to help her save Kyle’s life. But in the end there was nothing she could do. He might not have survived even with the help of an ambulance. He was shot at close range, right smack in the chest.
Molly had never experienced such tragedy so personally before. The boys cried, their mother cried. Burt, Betty, George and Molly didn’t know what to do. They were all grimly considering the implications of what had happened. Why this house? Why this family? Why this night? Where had the Wanderer gone? Was anyone
else in the neighborhood in danger?
Burt and George started digging a grave in Sandra’s backyard. It may not have been the best burial ground, but the cemetery was several miles away, and the men wanted to busy themselves.
Betty and Molly tried to console Sandra, but what can you say? Just as the sun was coming up, Burt came in to tell Sandra the grave was ready. It was very overwhelming for her. Not twelve hours ago her family was safe in their beds. Molly couldn’t comprehend how Sandra’s life had been changed so dramatically in such a short period of time. She shuddered to think about how she would have reacted to such a shock, and silently thanked God for the small shred of hope she clung to that Gary hadn’t shared Kyle’s fate.
A crowd had gathered, and some of the men looked like they’d brought shovels and had been helping dig. Burt, George, and four of Kyle’s closest neighbors carried him to the grave. His family followed behind, crying softly. The crowd was mostly quiet, shocked into silence by the night’s events.
A few of his friends spoke about what a great father and man Kyle was, and Sandra thanked everyone for coming, but it was inadequate in the end. They were all unprepared in every way for what was taking place.
It wouldn’t happen again.
As people were dispersing and Burt was filling in the grave Molly walked over to him. She looked at the remains of Kyle’s family, sitting on a bench across the yard. “Build the wall, Burt. Now.”
12.
It was Gary’s sixth day of walking alone. He fished the river pretty successfully, and hadn’t had to tap into his food supply in a while. All things considered, he hadn’t wanted for much. He had a supply of lighters to make fires with, the weather hadn’t been too terrible so far, and he’d been sleeping under the stars. The biggest problem was drinking water, but that time of year it rained a lot in the North East, so he just had to take time to stop and fill the water bottles when it did.
He was averaging around ten miles per day. If he walked at that pace every day, it would take him just short of three months to get home – if he had to walk the entire way. But he knew walking every day, seven days a week, for ninety days wasn’t realistic. He was bound to have to stop for one reason or another. He’d get sick, a bad storm might come, some distraction was liable to present itself. He still hoped he wouldn’t have to walk the entire way, though. Eventually he had to get far enough away from the epicenter, right? Assuming, of course, that Philadelphia had been the epicenter.
It’d been about ten days since the power went out, and so far, each town he’d come to was the same. No power, no friendly faces. In fact, there weren’t too many people moving around at all. Gary heard whispers of people who were being called nomads, wanderers, and other less pleasant things. They were thieves and people who might take your supplies from you, and people who didn’t have a home to protect. It occurred to him that he was a Wanderer, and he wondered how that stigma might impact his journey.
When Clint and Gary had parted ways in Chester, he followed 495 south, so he could stay nearer to the coast. Then he caught back up with I-95 south of Wilmington, in Delaware. He loved that about the Northeast. The states were so small, he really felt like he was making good progress, even if it was only about ten miles per day.
Gary decided that even though 95 took him away from the coast for a few days, he needed to stick with it, based on the fact that he didn’t want to walk the perimeter of Delaware just to get a fresh meal every day. He caught up with Chesapeake Bay in no time, though, and spent the night on the north side of the bridge.
By his calculations, he only had about thirty more miles before he reached the outskirts of Baltimore. He was counting heavily on finding more information there. It was the biggest city he’d come to so far, and someone there had to have information about what was going on, if the power was out there. It might even be on, that many miles away from Philly. His mind was reeling at the prospect and he had trouble sleeping that night.
It took Gary three and a half days to close the distance between the Bay Bridge and Baltimore. Because he wasn’t following the coast as much anymore, his supplies were running low, and he was hoping to restock in the big city.
It was nearly two weeks since the Blackout. People seemed to be becoming more and more hostile as time went on, or as he traveled further south, he wasn’t sure which. Although there were more people milling around in the city proper, no one made direct eye contact. In fact, most folded their arms protectively over their chests, and watched Gary out of the corners of their eyes. No one seemed approachable. Some even looked like they might lash out if they were challenged.
He sighed heavily. This wasn’t the situation he’d imagined. Obviously the power was out there, as it was everywhere else.
And there was a new problem brewing. After so many miles of walking in his work shoes, not only were his feet becoming tired and blistered, the soles of his shoes were wearing thin. He had a roll of duct tape that he patched them with, but he knew that wouldn’t last. He had to come up with a new pair of shoes soon. He was discouraged that his shoes were already wearing out. He wasn’t even out of the Northeast yet.
At this rate I’ll need over ten pairs of shoes to make the journey. He shuddered at the thought, and reminded himself that he was still hopeful that he wouldn’t have to walk the entire way. Perhaps the next city will be different. Perhaps.
Gary spent the night in an alley on the outskirts of Baltimore, and it was anything but restful. It was cold in Baltimore that time of year, and he did his best to conserve body heat. He curled up in a spot he thought would be out of the way, but he was wrong- the alley he picked belonged to someone. Lucky for him, he’d taken to sleeping with his packs under his coat, so they couldn’t be stolen while he slept. Just as he was drifting off he was grabbed by the collar and jerked to his feet by a rather large man. Gary was no slouch at over six feet tall, but this guy had bulk.
“Whaddya think you’re doin?” The bulky fellow asked. Gary was so groggy it took a moment to process what he was asking through the thick accent.
He socked Gary in the gut. “I asked you a question.”
The breath quickly fled Gary’s lungs and he doubled over. He put his hand up to try and stem further assaults and the man backed up a step. “Well?” he asked.
“I’m just … passing through.” Gary gasped. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”
“This alley’s taken. See that you keep passing, huh?”
“Sure. No problem.” Gary started to limp away, but he turned. It was the first conversation he’d had with anyone in a few days, and despite the obvious hostility, he thought it was worth a shot to ask him if for information.
“You stupid or somethin’? Move along!” In the dark, it was difficult to make out any features besides the outline of his bulky body. His voice was loud, deep and had a bit of a gravel to it. It was intimidating enough that Gary nearly turned back around, but he couldn’t lose this chance.
“Have you guys heard anything?”
“Bout what?”
“About what’s going on. About when things will start going back to normal, about when we might hear some news, about when we might get some relief.” Gary looked at his shadow as the big man laughed.
“There is no relief. This is the situation, so you better learn to survive. You can start by moving along.”
“How do you know that?”
“Look around you! It’s anarchy! No one’s coming to help you.” He approached Gary menacingly.
Gary took a step back and cleared his throat. “Thanks.” He hated to turn his back, but he thought it might placate the man, so Gary turned and started walking.
This wouldn’t do. He had to find some place to rest or his progress tomorrow would be even slower.
Eventually he came across an empty shop. It had already been broken into, and there was glass everywhere by the sound his footsteps were making. He walked around the little shop as quietly as he could. He didn’t want to surpris
e anyone if there was someone already sleeping here. He wished he had a flashlight that worked. By the lack of response to Gary’s presence, he could only assume there wasn’t anyone else in the shop. So, he found a spot in the back corner of the store and laid down. That gave him as much time as possible to hear someone approaching. It was a restless night, though, despite the fact that he didn’t see anyone else. He was rattled by the encounter with the bulky man in the alley. It seemed like the situation- his situation, the U.S.’s situation, humanity’s situation, - was becoming more dire by the day.
It occurred to Gary rather suddenly, as he lay there in the dark listening, that for the first time in his life, he’d completely missed a holiday. He’d forgotten all about Halloween, and had done nothing to observe it. Although he and Molly didn’t have kids, they always passed out candy – assuming of course that he was home. If he was on the road, he listened to Molly tell him which neighbor kids had dressed up as what that night. Last year’s popular costumes were princesses, werewolves, and the latest animated movie character. Gary couldn’t remember what the thing’s name was.
Normalcy. I missed out on something normal, he thought.
You could argue he hadn’t had anything normal in over two weeks. No showers, no regular meals, no transportation, no phone calls. But a missed holiday?
Gary sighed and rolled over, trying not to focus on the situation as a whole, but on his immediate condition, and the fact that he needed sleep.
In the morning, he took out the map to study it more closely. He still had about a half-day’s walk until he was the other side of Baltimore. He had two choices, as he saw it. He could either keep on his original course and follow I-95 all the way home, or he could take the more rural roads along the coast. That way, he’d at least have more consistent access to food. But winding along the coast would also take longer, and would keep him away from most of the bigger cities. He hadn’t decided if that was good or bad yet. After the experience in Baltimore, he wondered if he should avoid the big cities for now.
The Blackout Page 7