Outpost 9: An Apocalyptic Memior

by Crane, J. J.

  “I’m going to do this,” June insisted. “We have the plan. We stay on mostly county byways which keeps us out of potential population centers. We will only be out of supposed effective range for a short time because the route takes us that way.”

  “By this point,” Dave added, “I doubt people are going to make much fuss about a car passing through. It’s not like our intent is to stroll through neighborhoods – it’s scouting, take notes, return.”

  I cringed inside that June was going. Never-the-less, I had to bite my tongue.

  We allotted two hours for them to at least get back into radio range before a backup team would go out and drive their route to see what might have happened.

  Linda and Ted operated Vehicle 2. Their task was to attain a more detailed survey of two neighboring towns using the main roads as much as possible. Some didn’t want Linda to go. She countered that having grown up in the area and with intimate knowledge of the nuances of the region, it qualified her as a perfect candidate for the mission. Their assignment was closer to home, and even if they fell out of CB range, they brought walkie-talkies as a backup.

  On the day of the expedition, the whole neighborhood stood around the two cars. No one knew for sure what would come of it, but everyone was excited for some kind of news. A half-hour before launch, Pam Richards came out of her house crying. Not just crying, but a helpless, lose your coordination crying as she stumbled towards us.

  “The water is gone,” she stuttered. As if sensing we didn’t comprehend what she said, she repeated it. “There’s no water. I checked my faucets. It stopped.”

  Several people ran back into their homes and came back

  confirming Pam’s news. Excitement for the excursion evaporated into confusion and worry. Had this happened two weeks earlier, we would have had plenty of snow to use as a substitute. Now, however, the snow was almost all gone. Many had bottled water, but current consumption rates would render that supply moot in no time. I reminded folks that I had a well we could tap into. Thankfully it wasn’t too deep, and Ted and I made sure we could bring water out a few times over the last few weeks. I also reminded them that the lake provided an ample source of water as long as people boiled it. These simple solutions quelled fears, but running water was the last staple of normalcy we had. I worried that ‘no water’ would unravel an already fragile cohesion.

  Some suggested we postpone the expedition. Most protested that notion. If anything, some pleaded, it was more vital than ever to see what the world outside the neighbor-hood looked like. We agreed to continue with the plan. I thought it best to keep our minds on the mission. The water bombshell would be stressful enough to deal with later. Ted even whispered to me that we might have a potential sewage problem on our hands in the near future.

  “Let’s do this expedition first,” I said, feeling like two heavy bags of sand landed on my shoulders. I exhaled long and slow. “If you have any solutions, I’m all ears.”

  “I do,” he said. “But we’ll tackle it later today.”

  I acknowledged. “Sounds good.”

  June and Dave managed to keep in contact for the first eight miles of their trip. The report was dour. They saw no activity aside from stray pets, three wild turkeys and a couple of deer. They said it felt strange being the only ones on the road. Traffic lights didn’t work. Every store they passed, dark, some with smashed windows. They even pulled through two gas stations and saw the pumps had no power to them. Shortly after that report, we lost contact.

  Linda and Ted, on the other hand, stayed in near constant contact with the CB. Only on a few occasions did their transmissions become garbled. They too sent back news of eerie quiet. Every neighborhood they visited showed no signs of life. On a few occasions, they honked the horn to see if it would elicit a response. Ted sat in the passenger seat with a pair of binoculars in hand scouring houses to see if he could spot anyone peeking out a window but reported he saw nothing. It became increasingly hard to believe we could be that alone. Yet, as I thought about the notion some more, I began to wonder how many people died from other medical issues, or starvation, exposure to the elements, even suicide?

  Subsequent drives through other neighborhoods proved fruitless. They reported how bizarre it felt to not see a single person anywhere; as if standing on a deserted movie set, homes in perfect order, cars in driveways, nobody around. Once again, no one was walking a dog, checking the mailbox, sweeping a driveway, going for a run, nothing.

  At one point, Ted reported seeing a pack of dogs run through a couple of yards before disappearing into some woods. Linda wondered aloud how many pets died in the homes of their masters because of starvation. Ted called back and said if the area was really this deserted, it might be wise to organize a crew to sweep through these homes and collect as many canned foods and siphon gasoline as possible.

  As they entered the next town over, Stewartsville, and cruised into one of the neighborhoods where Linda had played cards for a decade, they spotted what looked like several ransacked homes. They noticed doors open, and several smashed in windows. Ted picked up his shotgun as well as unclipping the harness securing his Glock. Linda, who preferred a pistol, also reached for hers to make sure it was within easy access. As they continued through the area nothing occurred, their surroundings remained lifeless.

  Driving into another neighborhood, a strong smell wafted into the car.

  “Oh, what’s that?” Linda winced. Her face contorted as she rolled up her window.

  Ted smelled it too, and only one thing made sense. “Death rot.”

  “Really?” Linda asked, not quite believing it.

  “Why not, temperatures are up, any frozen or really cold bodies will now rapidly decay in this weather.”

  “Then why haven’t we smelled it elsewhere?” she asked.

  It was a good question, and they soon found their answer.

  “That’s why,” Ted said as they drove near an assisted living facility. On second glance, he noticed many open windows.

  They both looked at each other with questioned expressions, but Linda asked first. “Why would windows be open?”

  “I don’t know,” Ted answered, staring at the strange site.

  “Do you think someone got in there and did that?” Linda asked trying to figure out the purpose for such a thing.

  “It looks like it,” Ted said.

  “Food,” Linda said as if a lightbulb in her head went on. “Food,” she repeated with more purpose.

  “Food?” Ted questioned.

  “Yes. Think about it, these facilities have large kitchens, and they feed lots of residents. I’ll bet there’s all kinds of bulk canned goods in there or were in there. Whoever went in probably saw all these dead or dying people and opened up the windows to fumigate the place as best they could.”

  Ted nodded. “Makes as much sense as anything.”

  Linda brought the car to a stop. “See if you can make out any movement going on in there,” she said, motioning for him to use the binoculars.

  Ted searched the expanse of the building, taking a moment to investigate individual windows but saw no movement. “Pull up a little,” he pointed. “I’m getting an odd glare on some of these windows.” Linda did. He spotted nothing. The smell engulfed them, but they began to tolerate it.

  “Did you hear that?” Linda said, turning around, looking about.

  “Hear what? I haven’t heard anything,” Ted answered still peering through the binoculars.

  Linda continued turning, searching. “I thought I heard a whistle.”

  “Sure it wasn’t the wind?” Ted asked.

  “Is it windy out?” Linda answered kind of snarky.

  Ted jerked his head. “I heard it now.”

  “What is it?”

  Ted thought for a moment before his eyes went wide. “A signal. Let’s go! Get the car moving now!” He put the binoculars down and grabbed his shotgun. Linda began to pull away when they saw two armed men step out into the middle of
the street no more than fifty feet in front of them. Ted glanced back at the building he was checking out and saw two more people standing on the roof with weapons.

  “What do we do?” Linda asked.

  “Stay calm,” he said before sticking his head out the window. “It’s good to see people. Thank God. We thought we were the only ones.”

  The two thin men remained motionless. One looked at the other, before turning back towards them, their eyes a dark blank stare. With weapons held against their chest, one of the men spoke. “We got nothing here to share.”

  “Nope, not asking. We got lost, and we found ourselves here,” Ted responded trying to wear a friendly smile.

  “Looked more like you were scouting us out,” the man said still holding both hands securely on his rifle.

  “Oh no,” Ted replied innocently. “I mean yes, but when we saw the windows open we started looking for life. There isn’t any that we’ve come across until now. It sure is good to know others are alive.”

  “Sorry, but it's best you be moving on,” the man said. He looked haggard. Both men, in fact, looked malnourished. Their dirty clothes hung from them as if they were human hangers. It also appeared both men hadn’t bathed in quite some time, their matted hair caked together and flat against their heads.

  “Don’t mean to cause you any worry, we’ll be on our way, thank you,” Ted said with a wave before ducking his head back into the car.

  The second person grimaced and positioned his rifle under his armpit but with the barrel pointed towards the ground. “You can’t let them go; they may tell others about us.”

  “Reverse and hit it,” Ted yelled at Linda.

  She jammed the car into reverse and slammed on the gas pedal. The car jerked and took off. She handled herself well with little swerving. Just then, a shot rang out. Linda screamed as she hit the brake. The car spun around perfectly.

  “Go, go, go!” Ted screamed. Another shot rang out, then another, the last one hitting the car with a loud bang. Linda screamed as she floored the accelerator. Another person, a woman, her hair wild, like she had stuck her fingers in an electrical socket, dressed in rags, appeared in front of them running out into the road. She lifted a rifle to shoot. Linda could see dark, vacant eyes as the woman aimed her weapon and continued to come out into the street like some starving zombie. Linda didn’t swerve or slow down. She just gripped the steering wheel harder as the attacking woman closed in on their car. Before the woman could pull the trigger, her body clipped the right front edge of their vehicle. This sent the woman hurtling over the hood, followed by a thundering whack in the upper corner of the right windshield splattering blood and shards of bone across it. When Ted looked back the woman rolled onto the ground, blood squirting into the air like a red colored fountain. Two more gunshots rang out, both missing before Linda made a hairpin turn and disappeared from the scene.

  That was enough exploring. Linda drove with great haste blowing through every stop sign until they came within our town’s border.

  “Now that was action,” Ted burst out with a wild grin, the first words he spoke. “You did good, girl,” he shouted with a certain rejoice.

  Linda cracked a small smile. She still felt shaken up. “I kinda did kick its ass.”

  As they pulled down our street, Linda looked over at him with a giant sigh of relief, “I guess you could say I had my cherry popped.”

  Ted let out a howl of a laugh. “Me too,” he roared back.

  He held up his pinky to her. “Shot at lovers?”

  She laughed as she clasped his pinky. When she finally stopped the car, they gave each other a huge embrace.

  Moments before the two-hour deadline hit, we heard from June and Dave over the walkie-talkie.

  “Base, do you hear?” came June’s voice, the signal crackling, telling us they were probably a few miles away from home.

  “We read you. Signal’s weak, but we have you,” answered Betty, who wanted the communication’s job for their car.

  “Roger that,” June said, the relief in her voice palpable. “Listen, Betty. We have a slight situation.”

  Standing next to Betty and hearing this, my heart began to race.

  Betty remained calm. “Go ahead, June. I’m listening. What do you have?”

  “Get Jenny or Beth to retrieve some sweat pants, a sweater, and slippers,” June said.

  “Everything okay?” Betty asked, more inquisitive now.

  “We’re good,” June said. Her voice sounded like she wasn’t quite sure how to express her predicament. “Umm, yeah, something from their size, small, petite.”

  I wanted to take command of the walkie-talkie but asked instead for Betty to press June for more information.

  “Not a problem, June,” she said. “What’s going on? What do we need to know?”

  Silence ensued for a good minute. Betty called out again, but no response came.

  “Get Max. Get Jason,” I called out. “Let’s get a car ready.”

  “What about the clothes?” Betty asked.

  I shook my head, more concerned about my wife and Dave and whether they were in danger.

  “Fine,” I finally said. Since we were already standing outside with many of the others who meandered around the yards waiting for news, I called out to both Beth and Jenny to get the requested clothing, emphasizing the small size.

  “We have a situation here,” June answered. “Everything is fine. I think it will be best to explain when we get in. We are a couple of miles outside of town. We’ll be in shortly.”

  When June and Dave finally arrived, I immediately noticed something different about their car. It had an extra guest. Red flags shot through my mind. I couldn’t believe they brought back a possible contagion.

  June immediately jumped out of the car and could see I was far from pleased.

  “Before you say anything, we know we have to quarantine ourselves. We know… We also had no choice,” June said. She motioned for Dave to join her.

  “It’s true,” Dave said as he glanced back towards the car.

  I could see a head, dark hair, scrunched into the corner of the backseat, passengers’ side. The figure looked like a child from my vantage point.

  June stepped back and opened the door. Maya and Jenny handed over a few clothing selections. June took them and put them in the car and closed the door.

  “Her name is Emma,” June said.

  “We don’t think she is contagious, but we understand the protocol,” Dave said.

  “She’s scared,” June said. “If we could all just spread out a bit. I know everyone is curious, but I’m certain, given her state of appearance, that the poor thing has been abused. If we couldn’t all gawk at her like she’s some circus act, I think that will help make her feel more comfortable.”

  June looked toward the back seat, whispered something then held out her hand. I watched as this bony, dirt smudged hand grabbed hers. Out of the car emerged a young woman, short, and no older than college age. She looked rail thin, matted brown hair and in need of a bath. She kept her head down. When she finally looked up, we could see dark hollow eyes and sunken cheekbones. We stood in shock at this frail girl who didn’t stand taller than five feet two, and lucky to weigh ninety pounds.

  “What happened?” I asked, still trying to comprehend the situation. With only a brief glance at the girl, she looked like she could have popped out of a concentration camp photo.

  “First some food and water please,” June said while continuing to shield the car door. “She hasn’t eaten much in a month.”

  Betty took Charlotte and went back to our house to gather up some easy to eat and digest food.

  “It was the most barbaric scene I have ever encountered,” Dave stated. He and June went on telling how utterly quiet and deserted the area looked, aside from some deer, squirrels, stray dogs, and a couple of cats.

  “At first it was spine numbing to think we are the only survivors,” Dave said. “But, as we soon found out, we
are not.”

  They recounted how they drove through neighborhoods seeing nothing but desolate homes. On occasion, they spotted houses with doors open and broken windows; otherwise, the whole region resembled a ghost town.

  “Someone has obviously survived because just about every supermarket and convenience store showed signs of being ransacked,” Dave said.

  June said she brought along her cell phone and twice saw at least two bars register. “I tried 911… but nothing. Still, the fact that I could make a call means stuff is still running. Someone has to be able to maintain these things, right?”

  No one had an answer.

  June and Dave escorted Emma into the Peterson’s house – our quarantine home. June cleaned her up a little with a washcloth. Within an hour she was fast asleep on the couch.

  It was after Emma fell asleep that June and Dave told me, and others gathered on the Peterson’s front porch what happened.

  “We were outside Warrenville heading towards Ashford along Route 44,” Dave said. “We didn’t see a whole lot… some cats, a couple dogs, etc... but no people.”

  “That’s right,” June interjected. “But, there’s a gas station in Warrensville with a convenient store attached. The windows were smashed, so we knew someone was alive or at least had been.”

  “Yup. We slowed down for that, checked it out from the car,” Dave said. “We listened for any kind of sounds but heard nothing.”

  June nodded.

  “So, instead of taking the county road we decided to take the scenic tour,” Dave said.

  “Yeah,” June continued. “Dave said he knew the street we were going to try would catch up with 44 in a couple of miles. I was in. We hadn’t seen anything along one of the major roads, so why not try one of the side ones that ran parallel to it?”

  As she spoke, my head spun and boiled. ‘Why not?’ I thought, ‘because it can get you killed.’

  “We swung off 44 and headed towards the Ashford area. If you’ve been there, it’s fairly rural, lots of woods,” Dave said.

  “We drove slow,” June said. “No sounds, just… the day, some wind… no cars, no noise whatsoever.”