“A 30-minute drive on a good day,” Jo observed. The waters had pushed all the vehicles on the highway against a wall around the development. “I wonder if we’ll be able to walk around this.”
“There are a few hills on the far side, opposite the golf course a few miles down,” CJ told her so they continued to walk.
All of the houses they encountered were damaged to a greater or lesser extent to make them unsafe for even brief habitation. Fire had consumed hundreds of the houses and water damaged the ones that hadn’t been consumed by fire.
CJ had thought about settling in for the afternoon when they found a food store that was not so badly damaged that they couldn’t find some food and refreshments. Jo’s repeated warning of beasts kept them all moving. “We still have four or five hours of daylight, how much farther are these shelters you talked about?”
“There’s the treatment plant,” CJ said pointing. “A couple two or three hours and we’ll be there.”
“Tell me more about the beasts you keep talking about,” CJ asked her.
It was the professor who answered. “They’re some kind of mutant and you don’t want to meet one of them. Two of them were able to kill six of our group before we killed them about two weeks ago.
“They’re bipedal like us, but they’re extremely strong and fast. They have oversized eyes and a protruding brow like the Neanderthal of earth’s history. They are extremely vicious and feed on human flesh for some reason. You don’t want to run into one because they’re the sickest thing heaven ever put on this earth. There’s nothing good about them,” the school teacher explained with vehemence as they walked.
“I think I’ve encountered some of their work. Something tore up the cemetery where my family was buried. Whatever it was tore the bodies apart, even pulling them out of the ground,” CJ recalled to those listening to him. “I guess I got lucky.”
“Can any of us still alive call ourselves lucky?” asked Chloe.
“I’m still alive,” Jo said, putting her arm over the younger girl’s shoulder. “And after what we’ve all been through over the past month, I’d say we are all lucky.”
CJ didn’t agree with her. He didn’t feel lucky and his life was nothing but one step in front of the next.
The 20-plus people crossed a few more fences and skirted the fields that were filled with water, vehicles and decomposing bodies. The water was receding, but the smell was horrific. Two of their number lost what little food they had eaten and CJ was close to losing his before the wind changed directions.
It was late afternoon before CJ saw the driveway he was looking for. The gully made from the earthquake must have re-routed the water that had rushed through the area because while the house and construction building were on the ground and demolished, seven of the 12 survival shelters that had been completed but not shipped were still in the quality control area on the back hill, which meant they were habitable without any work from the survivors.
Jack had designed his survival shelters as 18-foot-in-diameter, two-piece octagons that were 21 feet long. The two sections could be transported on a standard flatbed trailer for shipping. When onsite, most often buried in a hillside, the two pieces were locked and sealed together like Ikea furniture, but with rubber seals to prevent leaking.
According to the marketing brochures, when the Apocalyptic Survival Shelter was properly erected and plumbed, it would “give six people enough room to live comfortably until the crisis abated.” The entire system came complete with air and water filtration, a built-in five kilowatt gas generator, rechargeable lithium batteries, storage space for six months worth of MRE-type meals, canned and dry goods, bathroom and shower, a 100-gallon water bladder, on-demand hot water heater, two-burner stove, refrigerator, beds and furniture which folded into the walls to allow more room during the day.
The higher-end models also came with flat panel monitors and external cameras, communications gear, tablets filled with books, movies and other entertainment, environmental suits and an extra generator.
The focus group that had tested the A.S.S. executive model, said they felt no isolation issues with the communications and surveillance gear to the outside world, comfortable and able to keep busy with the stationary bikes and treadmills that re-charged the lithium batteries if the generator failed. It wasn’t a perfect solution and Jack had been looking at more ways to improve his design, but it had been a solution that was marketable.
“ASS Executive Model?” Jo asked. “Isn’t that a really vulgar name? After all, who wants to live in an executive ass?”
“Brand-name recognition,” CJ explained. “It was a name you couldn’t forget when you heard it and Jack was all about name recognition.
“I had to get special permission from the Professional Tennis Association to sew his logo on the side of my sweatband, and even then, some people balked.”
Some water had flowed across this area, but the gully from the earthquake and the different heights of the two sides of the yard kept the area where Jack ran through his quality control checklist dry.
CJ had heard about the executive survival shelters but hadn’t even seen or been in one, but he was the only person in the group who had an idea how they might work. None of the generators had any fuel in them and it took more than a half hour for them to find something to put fuel in and then a vehicle from which they could siphon enough to fill one of the generators.
While some of the other men went searching for more fuel for the other shelter generators, CJ, Jo, Chloe and the boy Teddy entered the first of the shelters. There was a heavy steel lever that needed to be lifted with both hands to open the heavy door.
The inside of the shelter was stark and utilitarian. It was also very dark except for the light that came through the door. CJ knew the control panel for the generator was in the middle area of the shelter.
Jack had showed him how easy the control panel was to use on the prototype model, and there was just enough light still coming through the doorway for him to see. The executive model had more switches and gauges, but the layout was similar. CJ closed the connection between the batteries and the generator, primed the motor and turned the key. Through the thick reinforced concrete and insulation, CJ could barely hear the motor turn over and start up.
There was a panel of eight electrical rocker switches and CJ pressed the four on the right to the on position. The lights in the shelter all came on and Jo patted CJ on the back. The pitch of the motor also picked up.
Chloe and Teddy walked through the rest of the shelter and opened the rear door while CJ and Jo checked out the first two sections. The professor went off to help others start up their shelters.
Each of the three sections had two levels, the upper level reached by indents on the wall and a hand rail. This unit must have been set up as a demo because it had bedding and a complete set of furniture.
CJ climbed up the steps in the center section and found the bed already for someone to climb in and fall asleep. There was a light strip embedded in the wall rather than a lamp. There was a chair and desk with a laptop and a portable printer and a HDMI cable that went to a 42-inch flat panel monitor.
This, he decided, was his room because he saw it first, he was in the room and he was going to say it was his now. The twin bed that had been folded out of the wall was surprisingly comfortable and had two pillows. There was also a bureau for clothes and an aluminum mirror.
There was another light strip by the ladder that went back to the lower floor.
Instead of climbing down however, he lay down on the floor and looked over the lip of the ladderway. “You guys find your rooms okay?” he asked, voice echoing a little louder than he expected.
“There’s an intercom in the night stands,” he heard Jo say through a hidden speaker. CJ hadn’t known that. He got up and sat on the bed and then noticed that behind the book someone had set on the stand six switches, five for the other rooms and one for all of them together. He pressed the #1 and asked
whoever heard his voice if they had found everything. Chloe answered that there was only one bed in her room. CJ told her there were two more that folded out on the level below her.
There was no #2 on the intercom, so he suspected his room was #2. He pressed the #3 and Jo answered to tell him the room was bigger than the sleeper in her truck and would make due. CJ heard Teddy opening up the bed down below in the first section giving everyone a bed.
CJ climbed down the ladder and pulled the door to his upper room closed. He walked through the shelter and saw that Teddy had already fallen asleep on his bed. The boy had been walking with the adults on pure automatic. Chloe was climbing down quietly from her loft. “I got a bed, a desk, computer, a dresser and a TV up there. I think it’s probably the master bedroom and if you want it, I’ll let you.”
“I think all the sleeping rooms are the same because mine has got the same accessories,” CJ said to her quietly so as not to wake up the child.
They found that water had been plumbed into this unit for testing, but doubted the pump that pulled the water from the well was working, so they couldn’t use the bathroom or shower yet. There was some water in the bladder, but CJ didn’t know how much, so they were going to save it for an emergency.
Jo climbed down and the three went to check on the others in the group. The Professor had gotten the generator in his shelter started and all the furniture was there, but only a single sheet and pillow on the beds. They helped three other shelters get settled for the night and by the time the sun sat over the plains to the west, everyone had a place to sleep and steel doors between them and the outside world.
Tomorrow they would see if they could get water working to the shelters and find more food.
CJ made a comment about needing a bath and one of the women pulled several wet-naps from her pack and handed them to him. She then hugged him and thanked him for helping them find safe shelter. She was a homely woman with sagging breasts, short tangled graying hair, small teeth sticking out of too much gums, and hips wider than her shoulders. She was the kind of woman CJ had never found attractive and avoided when he could, but he felt good being complimented and hugged by her.
Back in his loft, CJ removed his clothes and used the wet-naps to wash his body the best he could. Before the fall of civilization CJ often showered twice a day when he was playing tennis and on the days he didn’t play, he showered at least once.
He felt dirty and grimy, and when he was finished all four of the napkins were dirty. The skin on his feet was wrinkled from being wet most of the day, but he found a towel and dried off best he could and felt better than he had.
He crawled into bed and turned off the light strip, plunging the room into total darkness. CJ didn’t like the darkness and turned the light back on. He found it had three settings and so the light was left on the dimmest level.
The intercom startled him. “Good night CJ, and thank you for everything today,” Jo’s voice came from the speaker. He was about to say the same to her when Chloe’s voice said essentially the same thing. He pressed the buttons to both their rooms and said “Thank you and thanks for your help as well. See you in the morning.” It was generic enough he only had to say it once.
CJ fell asleep in a warm bed thinking things were still as bad as they were 24 hours ago, but now he had people sharing his fears and that made it easier.
¤ ¤ ¤ ¤
Chuck, Yvonne and Danielle watched as The City of Angels, what they could see of the city which covered over 450 square miles and was once home to more than 12 million people, was crumbling back into the dust from which it had been built.
From their vantage point, they could see explosions as large as any they had ever seen. It was like the land had been bombed. Black plumes of smoke rose from the city and they heard the echoes of building crashing to the ground.
The trio climbed out of the car they were in and stood on the highway for several minutes watching Los Angeles crumble. So much dust was thrown into the air they began to lose sight of the city.
“We got to get out of here, Chuck,” said Yvonne, gripping his arm. “We got to get away because this is bad.”
Chuck got in the driver’s seat of the car while Yvonne got in the passenger’s side after pushing Danielle in the rear. Chuck was able to back the car out of the crack the front tire had fallen in and began working his way to the other side of the highway so they could head away from Los Angeles. They made it only 1,000 yards before they found their way blocked by a fallen overpass.
Yvonne, who was tapping on the GPS, said “See if you can go north on the 110.
Chuck backed the car up, putting his arm on the seat and looking through the back window. He glanced at Danielle who had her hands clasped in front of her and was staring straight ahead like her mind had checked out. He didn’t have time to think about her now.
A building near the I-110 / I-5 interchange exploded and debris rained down around the car. Chuck put the car in drive and accelerated away from the city. More buildings that had collapsed caught fire and off to his left he could see a housing area raging.
The other side of the I-110 had collapsed and parts of the roadbed he was on had cracks and missing pieces. He was limited to about 10 miles per hour as he weaved through the damage and debris.
A foot traffic bridge had collapsed on the highway but Chuck was able to squeeze through an opening between the bridge and the pedestal holding up one end. He had to do the same thing for the railroad bridge and the Pasadena Ave. overpass. It was slow going for Chuck and the two women.
It took more than an hour to go eight miles to get to the south side of the city of Pasadena. Pasadena was as bad as Los Angeles, or maybe worse because they were closer to the city now. Most of the city was on fire and it took the Yvonne’s navigating with the GPS and Chuck’s careful driving of the Cadillac to finally get around the city.
Chuck pulled over at a truck dealership that was damaged but not yet on fire. He found the keys to a Ford F-250 quad cab and they left the caddy behind. Chuck said the damage they’d done to the luxury car was bad enough they wouldn’t get much further in it. He also picked up a garden hose to siphon fuel for the truck. Yvonne broke the window out of a Radio Shack and grabbed a GPS and a CB radio and antenna. She also grabbed some food and bottled water from a gas station while Chuck was putting diesel in both tanks on the truck.
They got back on the road and Chuck said he still wanted to go south to San Diego, but with Pasadena on fire, Yvonne told him they would have to go around the mountain and the mountain passes would probably be blocked because of the quake.
Chuck was stubborn and had his head set on getting to San Diego. He said the women could get out of the truck any time they wanted, but he was going to see if his brother was still alive or die trying.
Yvonne didn’t try to dissuade him any more. She directed him onto State Highway 2 and headed up the mountain. Two hours later they were back at the base of the mountain near Interstate 210. Every road Chuck had tried had been blocked. He tried going off road and almost tumbled the truck into a crevasse.
They stopped one time on a road that gave them a good view to the south. A mushroom cloud was on the very distant horizon. It might have been from a nuclear power plant that had gone critical or a munitions dump. The higher winds in the atmosphere were blowing the plumes from the explosion away from them.
Yvonne didn’t gloat and say “I told you so.” Instead Yvonne brought him a cold beer when he pulled into just a slightly damaged parking lot to re-fuel the truck. It was getting close to dark. The setting sun had been obscured by the smoke from the cities that were burning to the horizon. Chuck was tired and Yvonne found some blankets and pillows for them to sleep in the truck.
Danielle took care of her personal business and cleaned up as best she could with the toiletries Yvonne found. She climbed into the back seat to try and sleep.
Chuck and Yvonne were drinking their beers and eating sandwiches Yvonne had slapped toget
her. They were looking at the horizon and could see the glow from Pasadena and Los Angeles. Chuck speculated more pollution was being thrown in the air every second from the fires in the two major cities, than in all of the past decade.
The bright glow they were looking at slowly began to dim and they felt a strong wind in their face they hadn’t felt all day and could smell the burning cities. Yvonne had lived in California all her life, but had never experienced anything like what they’d been through. Nothing she knew of could be extinguishing the fiery hell in and around Los Angeles the way she and Chuck were seeing now.
“There’s not a fire hose big enough to put out that fire,” Chuck said.
“Shit, shit, shit. Get in the truck! Fast!” She exploded. She pushed Chuck toward the driver’s door of the truck, dropping her own bottle of beer.
Chuck had learned to move quickly without asking questions and jumped in the truck, throwing Yvonne’s blankets onto the ground. She was jumping in the other side and hollering at him to head back up the mountain. “Go! Go!” she encouraged him.
He dropped the truck in gear and got back onto State Road 2 into the mountain. He’d spent most of the last four hours on this road and wasn’t sure what she was thinking. He was driving as fast as he could, trying to remember where he had to leave the road to avoid debris. She kept looking behind or beside the truck as they wound their way into the mountains. She also kept encouraging him to hurry and go faster.
“Why in hell are we driving back into the mountains?”
“Because there is a fire hose big enough to put out that fire,” she said to Chuck. “It’s called a tsunami and if it is putting out the fires in Los Angeles, it might be big enough to reach Pasadena and any tsunami that big, we won’t survive.”
Chuck drove for 20 minutes, finding a path that’d take them higher into the mountains. Yvonne had kept her head on a swivel watching out behind them and encouraged Chuck to pay attention when the truck bounced over fallen tree limbs or rocks. “We gotta go, man,” she said over the noise of the truck’s heavy-duty power plant that was being tortured with the driving Chuck was doing. “We gotta go faster!”
Hell Happened (Book 3): Hell Released Page 15