by Brad Manuel
Emily shook her head. “That is the same paranoid mindset I had to fight John about. This isn’t the Road Warrior, we aren’t savages.”
“No, Emily, we aren’t savages, but who knows what a larger group might be by now. Imagine 10 mouths to feed instead of 4. Imagine New York City, which was looted and burned, bridges destroyed, tunnels blocked. Imagine the desperation some of those people feel or at least felt during the rapture. I’m not saying they will take the pizza oven because they are evil. I’m saying they take the pizza oven because they are trying to survive. If you had to steal an oven to feed your children, you’d do it, right?”
“I wouldn’t think twice.” Emily conceded.
“Now imagine that you meet the only doctor left on the east coast. Imagine you meet a woman who can bear children, and you are a group of men. Imagine you have no other way to make food other than a fireplace in an old building, and now you see a portable pizza oven. There are going to be choices made, decisions about joining our tribe or staying with another tribe. We need strong selling points, but not key strengths. Not ‘we have a doctor,’ but rather, we have good, honest men, women, and children, and we are going to this place to start a society.”
“So you don’t think we can just drive up there and say ‘hey, we’re the Dixon’s from Raleigh, North Carolina. Want to come with us to New Hampshire to pick up our nephew, and then figure out where to live?’” Todd joked.
“No, I don’t. I think you got lucky with Solange, Peter, and me. We need to have a better plan for meeting a larger group.” Melanie looked up at the sky. “I’ve lived in a city my entire life. I knew there were stars in the sky, but who knew there were so many?” She stretched her feet out and put her hands behind her head. The sky was clear save for a few light puffy clouds drifting across the brilliant stars and a three quarter moon.
“We have a few days to hone our pitch. I don’t know where Peter is on all of this. I will speak with him tomorrow. I’m with you, and Solange is with John, so worst case, we have all of us.”
“What do you mean Solange is with John?” Todd asked.
Melanie and Emily exchanged glances. “You haven’t noticed how she looks at him? She’s usually not more than a few feet away from him. Trust me, she’s with him.” Melanie wore a smile on her face.
“Are you crazy? She’s half his age. You two have no idea what you’re talking about.” Todd shook his head. “Solange and John, he wishes.” He mumbled.
“Let me guess, you had to ask him out first?” Melanie said to Emily.
“Yep.” Emily replied.
27
March roared into Hanover like a lion, and did not become a lamb until the final days of the month. A warm sun was slowly melting the snow. The daily temperatures crept into the high 30’s and low 40’s.
The residents of Webster Cottage were ready for spring, and even more ready for summer. Winter was harsh in Hanover, particularly without power or water.
“We can’t spend another winter here.” Paul declared. “We won’t survive another winter here. We need crops, animals, there is no way we’ll have enough of each to make it through.”
He and Hank had been with Greg and Rebecca for five weeks. Frozen cottage living was taking its toll. They melted snow for their water, but it took a large volume of snow to generate a small amount of water. The daily gathering was a grind. Canned food was plentiful, but fresh food was scarce. Hank and Greg spent endless hours trapping for small rewards. They cut holes in the local ponds for minimal fishing gain. The group was surviving, but it was not thriving.
Today’s project was emptying the full port-a-john. Greg decided on a path to a sewer opening on a street near their cottage. The drain was far enough to keep the smell away from the cottage. The melting snow would wash the sewage away in a day or two.
Greg, Hank and Paul rocked the full bathroom back and forth until it was on a large plastic dumpster hood they were using as a sled for Greg and Hank to tow to the sewer. The blue bathroom was pulled away using the snowmobiles.
Paul moved the second, empty, bathroom onto the concrete slab before going into the house and sitting down on the couch opposite Rebecca.
Using barometric pressure readings, wind direction, and temperature charts Rebecca found she could accurately forecast the weather over the next few days. She predicted when storms were going to hit, and when they needed to batten down the hatches. She sat near the fire in the midst of one of her weather calculations.
“Are you the Rebecca that won the Westinghouse science competition last year?” Paul ran admissions for a medical school, back when there were medical schools. He was responsible for an undergraduate medical school fast start program. He knew about talented high school students, particularly talented science students that applied to his school.
“Yes. You know they don’t call it that anymore, right?” Rebecca said, keeping her face down as she wrote figures in her book.
“I have been wondering for over a month now. I knew you were from Concord, and it was big news that a 12 year old girl from New Hampshire won. After seeing you work with the weather calculations, well, it makes sense it was you.”
“My mother went to your school. That’s why I applied. I’m sorry I was never seriously considering it, but thank you for accepting me.” She looked up and smiled.
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I was just curious.” Paul paused. “Wait, you know I ran admission at Cincinnati Medical and admitted you?”
Rebecca continued to smile. “I remembered your name from the admission’s letters. When Greg told me his uncle Paul worked at the University of Cincinnati Medical School, I put the two together.”
“Wow.” Paul replied, amazed, “you are smart.” He stared at her. “Have you told Greg about all of your honors and awards?”
Rebecca put her pencil down. “I told him the truth, I was a senior, I was looking at top colleges. He knows I’m smart, or whatever smart meant before all of this. I’m not ashamed of how intelligent I am, and I think it’s an asset to us, but no, I did not go into detail about Westinghouse or how well I did on kids’ Jeopardy or the debate awards, or anything like that. I haven’t had a serious friend my own age since I was five. Greg likes me for who I am, and I’m being who I am, so I don’t want to bring up a lot of baggage from my previous life. You can, I don’t mind, I just don’t think it’s relevant. I mean, Greg was good at baseball. He hasn’t told me about specific games he’s won, just that he played baseball.”
“Rebecca, I get it. I won’t say your secret is safe, because you’re right, it’s not a secret. I was just curious and wanted to know. I thought you were the same Rebecca, and you are. No biggie. Does it mean I am going to treat you differently? Probably. I might rely on your opinion more, or ask for your advice more, if that’s okay.”
“That works.” Rebecca picked up her pencil and started working again.
“One more thing.” Paul said.
Rebecca looked back up. “We can’t stay here. Here in Hanover I mean, for the long term. It’s too harsh. When my brothers arrive, we are going to tell them as much. Maybe you could work up a formula, a system that would give us best locations? I leave it up to you to decide on the final variables, but let’s look at climate, water, food sources, farmland, and proximity. We can’t get to Australia, so even if it tops our list, we need to discount or exclude locations based on availability.”
“You have letters after your name. Are you going to help me with the project?” Rebecca knew Paul was a PhD. Her photographic memory displayed his printed signature as she spoke.
“Yes, but based on our skills and abilities, I’ll be the research assistant. You tell me what you need from the library, I will fetch and deliver.”
Rebecca looked up, not at Paul, but towards the ceiling in the stereotypical way scientists look up when they are thinking. “I do like a project, and we certainly have time. We have to start with variables, like you said, but I bet we can come up wi
th more. Predators, poisonous insects and reptiles, rainfall, natural disasters, there are hundreds of things to consider. I’ll get a laptop from the computer store, something I haven’t turned on in a long time, and we can run some models. Let’s hope Hanover doesn’t come up number 1.”
She looked down from the ceiling and focused on Paul. “I’ve never had an RA before. I am demanding, but it’s for the work. Don’t take it personally.” She giggled.
“Rebecca, this is the most important project you’ve ever worked on, be as demanding as necessary.” Paul did not giggle back, he stood and left her to work on her weather charts.
As he was leaving the room he turned around. “And just for the record, Greg wasn’t that good at baseball. I hope he hasn’t been telling you otherwise.” This time it was Paul’s turn to chuckle.
28
The Dixon tribe rumbled north after a week spent collecting memories, art, and artifacts in Washington D.C.
Peter was on board with anything Melanie decided. He wanted to stay with the group. Peter liked to fish. He and Craig were fast friends, fishing together their last four days in D.C., while the rest of the group took in the sites. Matt had to tag along and sit in the boat for the first two days, maintaining the rule of never being alone with new people. John took pity on him and switched places with him for the last two days.
The Dixon tribe acquired a second RV from a Virginia dealership, doubling their sleeping quarters, and providing guaranteed shelter from the harsh New England spring. They refilled the propane tanks prior to departure, securing warmth and cooking abilities for the next few weeks.
Their stop in Philadelphia produced no new people and plenty of anxiety. The city appeared abandoned. Philadelphia was looted and ravaged. It was the worst case scenario for a large metropolitan area. There were entire sections of the city burned to the ground. No one in the tribe was familiar with the town. They drove aimlessly through neighborhoods, all of which showed some level of destruction. The University of Pennsylvania was in piles of ashes.
They parked RV’s and SUV next to the charred remains of the once prestigious campus.
“The devastation is incredible. Didn’t people know it was pointless?” Emily was shaken by the condition of the city.
“If you are desperate, you do not think like a person. You think like whatever did this.” Solange witnessed similar behavior in Richmond. Peter and Melanie saw the same in D.C.
Melanie continued for Solange. “You were in Raleigh. Your city was evacuated. Baltimore was a war zone for weeks. People didn’t know what to do. It was crazy, and then it just stopped. Everyone was gone, dead. I’m sure these fires were started and just never got put out. They might have burned for weeks.”
They set off fireworks their first night, played music and blew air horns the next day, and left Philadelphia within thirty six hours.
John believed all of the cold weather cities had been abandoned for warmer weather.
“Would you stay in Philly if you were able to go somewhere warm? If I had a car, I’d hightail it for California or Florida, or someplace with food and heat. I’m not staying through a winter by myself.” John had little hope they would find people in New York. He spoke as they pulled off the road at the first “Fireworks” warehouse sign in New Jersey. Per Solange’s plan, they were ready to light up the New York City sky to find people.
The RV tires found snow and ice fifteen miles outside of New York City. Drifts piled against buildings and road signs. The three vehicle caravan rolled over the crusty remains of winter and pulled to a stop at 5th Avenue and 59th Street. They parked next to the Plaza Hotel at the southeast corner of Central Park.
“It’s cold here.” Todd buzzed over the walkie talkie. “I miss the South already.”
They drove around Manhattan, opting for the GW Bridge rather than taking the Lincoln or Holland tunnels. No one was sure where the best area was to find people in a city of such size. They decided Central Park was as good a place as any to start. They would move to the other four burrows if Manhattan was vacant.
It was noon. The sun was shining, but there was a chill to the air.
They piled out of the vehicles, and knew immediately they had crossed from the south into the northeast. The kids screamed “snowball fight” and ran off to play. Casey stayed close to Melanie. She liked playing with the older kids, but the words “snowball” and “fight” did not bode well for a 4 year old against 6, 7, 8, 8, and 10 year olds.
“It looks better than Philly. There are some rough areas, but where we drove was intact. The stores aren’t looted. The shop windows aren’t broken. New York seems to have come through pretty well.” John looked around with surprise in his voice.
“David and I used to come here a lot. He worked for a firm downtown. I’d tag along when I could. We really loved this city.” Melanie was holding Casey’s mitten encased hand. The little girl’s head was covered by a fur rimmed hood.
“If it’s this cold now, I bet it will drop into the 30’s tonight. We’re eating inside until June.” Todd made plans for their stay. He looked around. “There are plenty of cars. Refueling won’t be a problem. I know a parking garage close to here too, one of those year round places. It should be loaded with cars if we need additional gas.” He continued to scan the horizon in all directions. He listened for sounds of life. “Nothing, not a sound or sign anyone was here recently.”
Emily stood next to Todd, watching the kids play in the snow. “Would you stay here? I don’t know. Maybe I’d head for Long Island. John maybe right, people may have left for warmer climates in October and November, when the disease was gone and before the snow flew.”
“We’ll set off the fireworks for a few nights, see if anyone comes. If not, we’ll try to make it up to Boston.” John had an atlas on the hood of the SUV. “You know what Emily? I bet you’re right. I’d head somewhere else if I were here. It’s not like I want to fish out of the East River or the Hudson. I would lay low in the city, if possible, before I made a beeline for Long Island or somewhere south. There is almost nothing that would keep me here. There is no game to hunt, no fish to catch, no food to scavenge. This was the most populated place in the country, but only because it was a city. It’s not the optimal habitat for anyone post-pandemic.”
“People like to stay where they live.” Peter said unexpectedly. “They get attached to homes. Let’s give it a go with the sparklers and if we strike out, we move further north.” If the survival statistics held, there would be 15-20 survivors in the general area of Manhattan. Peter believed most of them would still be in their homes.
Todd found a trashcan on the street corner. It was on its side, knocked over months ago. The can was partly submerged in snow and ice. He picked it up, dumped out the snow, and filled it with trash from the area. He searched the newspaper boxes and singles ads dispensers for old paper. He asked the kids to find sticks and branches from the park, dry wood if possible. Todd went into the RV and returned with a bottle of grain alcohol he scavenged from a liquor store in D.C. He poured some of the bottle into the can, struck a match from the pack in his pocket, and lit the signal fire. The can roared to life. If Todd had not stepped back, the initial explosion would have taken his eyebrows.
“One signal fire lit.” A few minutes later he picked up a handful of wet leaves, abundant near the park, and threw them on the fire. Thick black smoke floated into the sky.
“Do we want to get some tires, light them on fire? It would be the most effective, as long as we stayed away from the smell and fumes.” The tribe employed a similar strategy in Philadelphia. When they pulled out of the city, the black ribbons of smoke continued to billow into the clear cityscape. If survivors located the tire fires, directions to Hanover lay in plastic bags near the blazes.
“You know what? Yeah, let’s see if we can find a few tires, get them going. We have to keep the kids away, maybe start it down on 57th or 56th and over on Madison.” John liked any idea that conserved their fuel. Bu
rning tires meant not having to gather firewood. It also meant not having to man and feed the signal fire.
Todd turned to his wife. “Hey Em? What’s the Met from here? Like 20 blocks north? I watched the kids for you in D.C., any chance you’ll take a turn and let me go up and look at some art?”
“Absolutely. I want to take the kids over to the Natural History Museum straight across from there.” She pointed northwest across the park.
Melanie listened to the exchange. “I’m in on the Natural History Museum. I love that place, and now that I can bring Casey? Done deal. We should drive the Suburban.” She walked over to Jake and Jackie to get them ready.
John turned to Matt. “Can you go with your brother and cousins? I would feel more comfortable if one of the men went.”
“Sure, I can dig on some dinos.” Matt walked to the suburban and pulled a shotgun from the back. The newest addition to the groups supplies, acquired in D.C., was a gun locker in the back of the suburban. It was stocked with several shotguns. There were better guns for defense, but shotguns were visible, easy to use, and loud. None of the adults, save Peter, were comfortable with guns, but firearms were deemed necessary in the larger cities. The tribe hoped the sight of big shotguns would deter an attack. If a small group was attacked, a shotgun blast would signal the rest of the tribe.