by Bobby Akart
“Did you hurt my granddaughter, mister?” she said in an eerily calm voice. She never raised the gun at Peter, but one squeeze of the trigger would put a hole in his stomach.
Peter slowly lowered his bags to the ground and allowed the backpacks to slide off his shoulder on top of them. He was relieved to be rid of the excess weight, but he didn’t dare relax with a gun pointed at him.
“No, Mamaw,” said the young woman, who glanced at Peter. It was the first time she’d taken a good look at the man who’d crashed her head into the wall. “It was an accident. He helped me get away.”
“Get away from who, child?” the grandmother asked.
Peter’s eyes darted from the woman to her injured granddaughter, who’d taken a towel off the kitchen table and pressed it against her head wound, which continued to ooze blood.
“There’s people at the mall, Mamaw. Bad people.”
For the first time, the woman raised the gun and pointed it in Peter’s direction. He instinctively stepped backwards a pace or two.
“He one of ’em?” she asked.
“No.” The young girl sensed her grandmother’s hostility toward the stranger in their apartment. “We just kinda bumped into each other. His name is, um …” Her voice trailed off, so Peter spoke up.
“Peter, ma’am. Peter Albright. I live. Well, I lived in Falls Church. I’m not sure it’s there anymore.”
“There ain’t nothin’ left over that way,” she said, waving the gun like she was a teacher using a pointer during a lecture. Peter really wished she’d put the gun down. He tried to take her attention away from him being a threat.
“We really need to look after her wound. I have some medicine in this duffel bag right here.” He pointed toward the one full of medical supplies and energy bars.
“I’m okay,” the girl said. She walked around the kitchen bar and entered the galley-style kitchen. Peter made eye contact with the three younger children, who sat nervously on the sofa, side by side.
“Hi, I’m Peter,” he said to them with a smile. Their icy, emotionless stare spoke volumes. They didn’t trust him.
“My name’s Asia on account my daddy was from Thailand,” said the woman, who finally lowered the gun. “He wasn’t no good and left me and my momma alone. Just like Jackie’s daddy and my daughter did.”
Jackie, the young woman Peter injured, returned from the kitchen. “They didn’t leave us, Mamaw. The government took them.” She glanced over at her three siblings, a boy and two girls. “My father’s in prison. Our momma is too. Mamaw takes care of us, and I’m an assistant manager of the Cinnabon at the mall.”
“That group moved in yesterday and began threatening people,” said Peter. “They shot at least one person, maybe more. I wanted to get out of there, and that’s when we, you know, ran into each other in the hallway.”
She removed the blood-soaked towel from her forehead and dabbed the wound with another towel. She smiled when she saw that the bleeding had stopped.
Relieved that her wound wasn’t more serious, Peter asked, “Were you looking for food?”.
Jackie laughed, as did her little brother and sisters. She playfully waggled her finger at them. “They said they’re tired of the cinnamon rolls. We didn’t have much in the cupboard because Mamaw’s check is deposited on Friday, but, you know ...” Her voice trailed off as a sadness swept over her.
Peter nodded. They weren’t the only Americans living paycheck to paycheck or on some form of government assistance.
Despite his concern for Jackie and her family, Peter was ready to get on the road. He was concerned that the longer he stayed in the area, the more likely it was that he’d be exposed to radiation. Plus, people would become more and more desperate. He was anxious to get out into the countryside.
He turned his attention back to the grandmother. “Well, um, Asia, it was nice to meet you, even under these circumstances. You have a very nice granddaughter.”
“I’m gonna die.”
Asia blurted out the words without emotion. She said them in such a way that the statement stunned Peter.
“We all are at some point, ma’am. Help is on the way, I’m sure of it.” He lied. Peter was sure of one thing. Help would not be on the way anytime soon.
“Mamaw, I wish you wouldn’t talk like that. I’ll try again to find your medicine.”
Peter realized there was something more to the grandmother’s statement. “What kind of medicine?”
“I have the diabetes. I only get a week’s supply of insulin at a time. Friday was my refill day. My insulin pump quit working when the bomb hit. I had a couple doses to inject but I used ‘em. I can’t keep it cold nohow.”
“Ma’am, I’m no expert, but I think I heard once that people with Type 2 diabetes can go without insulin for many months. Maybe even a year.”
“She has regular Type 1, right, Mamaw?”
The woman closed her eyes and nodded.
“Aren’t there some kind of drugs you can take besides injections?” asked Peter.
“She keeps glucose tablets around for low blood sugar. They’re not prescription but she ran out of those, too. I was supposed to buy them yesterday.” Jackie hung her head down in despair.
Asia explained what they were for. “I use them to prevent low blood sugar from the insulin. They don’t matter now.”
Peter sighed. If she was out of insulin, the last thing she needed to be eating was Cinnabon sugar-infused buns.
“Do you have anything to eat that is low carb?” asked Peter. “Cans of chicken, tuna, or meat?”
“No, not really,” replied Jackie. “Like I said, we both get paid on Fridays. Saturdays, I go to the store and get her meds. That’s when it all happened.” She hung her head and took a deep breath. She seemed emotionally overwhelmed.
Peter knew nothing about caring for a diabetic. The woman was probably correct in her assessment. He just didn’t know if her death would come quickly and if it was painful. All he knew was that she was going to die and leave Jackie, who was in her late teens or early twenties, with three kids ranging in age from eight to twelve.
Asia explained, “I know what’s gonna happen to me. They tell me in all those classes I go to every year to get my government supplements. I’m gonna start being really thirsty. It’s gonna be hard to breathe, and then I’ll be spending all my time on the toilet. I just don’t know what to do, but Jackie thought there might be something at the store that sells vitamins in the mall.”
Peter addressed her granddaughter. “Were you going to the Vitamin Shoppe?”
She nodded.
He imagined the place would be looted at this point, but likely they were looking for anything edible, not vitamins or supplements.
“What were you going to look for?” he asked, glancing over at the three children on the sofa, who continued to remain quiet and aloof. He was surprised the family was discussing this life-and-death matter so openly in front of them.
She shrugged. “Anything I could find that was high protein without carbs.”
“Jackie wants to starve me.”
Peter’s eyes grew wide, and he once again studied the young kids for a reaction. None of them moved. He suspected they’d live through a lot of heartache in their short time on earth.
“I don’t think she wants to—” began Peter before he was cut off by Jackie.
“It’s the only way to bide time. We’ve had two days to talk about this. I’ve even knocked on our neighbors’ doors to see if anyone is diabetic and would be willing to share.”
“Child, I told you. Ain’t nobody comin’ to answer their door.”
“I know, Mamaw. I had to try.” Jackie began to well up in tears. The young woman was carrying the burden of the world on her shoulders.
Peter faced a crossroads. He needed to leave, but he felt terrible for the predicament this family was in. The grandmother was most likely going to die if she couldn’t get medical attention soon. Even if a hospital was open, he do
ubted she had the strength and stamina to get there. She had to weigh three hundred pounds.
“Where is the nearest pharmacy?” he finally asked.
Jackie pointed to their north, away from the mall. “Her meds are at the Safeway Pharmacy across the street from the apartments. She rides in her electric scooter, and the rest of us walk with her.”
Peter had noticed the mobility scooter outside the apartment. It had a heavy-duty chain wrapped around its seat support and a porch support post. Maybe the hospital was an option?
“Have you tried the scooter?”
“Battery’s dead,” replied Jackie. “I can’t even get the screen on the handlebars to light up.”
“Have you been over to the Safeway since, you know, everything happened?”
“It’s boarded up, and there were some guys watching over it. They said they were security, but I think they’re lyin’.”
“Is it in a shopping center or by itself?”
“Strip center. There’s a hair salon on both sides of it. Other stores, too. T-Mobile. TJ Maxx. Mattress store.”
Peter paced the floor for a moment, running his hands through his hair as he thought. This would be too difficult. He stopped and turned to Jackie. “What about CVS? Walgreens?”
Asia responded, “There’s a CVS about a mile from here on Fair Lake Parkway. It sits by itself next to the Sunoco.”
“It’s a new store,” offered Jackie.
“Shopping center?”
“Nope. By itself.”
Peter smiled. That meant he knew the floor plan.
Chapter Eighteen
Sunday, October 27
Placerville, California
Owen drove his family south along California State Route 49, backtracking along the Golden Chain Highway toward Placerville, which was located southeast of Auburn. Cars were stalled periodically along the way, but traffic would’ve been light at the time of the nuclear explosions near San Francisco. They reached the outskirts of Placerville right about the time the sun was rising over the mountains. Except there was a murky, gray smoke hanging over the valley like gauze wrapped over a wound. And the wound was oozing all around them.
“Look at all of these people wandering around, Dad,” said Tucker, who’d managed to arrange all the gear so he could sit on the edge of the back seat with his arms resting on the backs of the front bucket seats.
More deceased vehicles had filled the narrow two-lane highway as they entered town. Groups of people were huddled on the front lawn of the Calvary Faith Pentecostal Church as parishioners handed out boxes of food. Others stood in wonderment as the Bronco slowly drove past them. Thus far, the McDowells had not seen any sign of electricity much less another operating vehicle.
As Owen approached Highway 50, which they’d driven on just two days prior, his eyes searched out the Shell station where they’d last filled up the Expedition. Other than a few cars parked haphazardly in the parking lot, there was no sign of life. The Bronco’s fuel mileage wasn’t the best, and Owen had mentally calculated he could barely make the ninety-mile drive to South Lake Tahoe on a full tank. However, as he suspected, the gas stations were closed because it required electricity to pump gas, and the town of ten thousand didn’t have power. If the same was true as far east as Nevada, it would be a challenge to find gas.
They continued on their escape from the coming wildfires on the eastbound lanes of Highway 50. Full of stalled cars, Owen also had to drive slowly to avoid all the evacuees from the Bay Area who’d abandoned their vehicles and walked toward the east. Some climbed over the decorative fencing that separated the town’s business district from the once busy six-lane highway. Others stopped to follow the progress of the McDowells’ Bronco.
“I don’t like the way they look at us,” observed Lacey. “Some seem confused, but honestly, others look pissed.”
“I noticed that, too,” said Tucker. “A few of them actually turned and began jogging toward us. I think we need to get out of here.”
Owen eased the truck into the left-turn lane at the center of the highway. He nervously gripped the wheel and sped up until he was driving on the wrong side of the highway. There was only a fraction of the stalled cars in the westbound lane, so he was able to drive faster. Although he mentally prepared to avoid any oncoming vehicles, none ever materialized.
They were able to get out of Placerville without incident. However, seeing the hungry and desperate refugees was a wake-up call for them. Their tense silence eventually gave way to a conversation about the task at hand.
“We’ve gotta avoid the cities,” began Owen. “Heck, even the towns if possible. If this power outage is the same all over, there are gonna be people who will want our truck.”
“You’re right, Dad. We’ve got maps. We can even find state maps along the way.”
“I agree,” added Lacey. “We’re used to driving back roads on our trips anyway. We just need to plan ahead.”
“What about gas?” asked Tucker, who’d noticed his father glancing at the gauge often.
“At some point, we’re gonna need to keep an eye out for a place that might have a gas can.”
“Everything’s closed,” said Lacey.
Owen furrowed his brow and nervously fiddled with the gear shift knob. “I know. I’m talking about, um, on a farm or in someone’s garage or something.”
“Steal it?” asked Lacey.
“It won’t be of any use to them, honey,” said Owen matter-of-factly. “We’re also gonna need a siphon hose of some kind. If the gas pumps don’t work, then we’ll have to suck it out of other cars or even lawn equipment.”
“Do you know how to do that, Dad?”
“Um, well, no. We’ll have to figure it out. We’re kinda learning as we go, right?”
Tucker shrugged.
Lacey stared out the windows as they passed several farms. She wondered at what point they’d need to pull down a driveway and look for fuel. She was struck by the appearance of the sky. Naturally, she’d seen cloudy skies before, but this was different. It was if the sun wanted to fight through the smoky blanket thrown over them, but it couldn’t. Suddenly, a chill came over her body, and she unconsciously wrapped her arms around her midsection for protection.
“There’s another thing,” continued Owen. “We need to think about when it’s safe to drive. By that, I mean day or night.”
“Don’t you think most people will still sleep at night?” asked Tucker.
His dad nodded. “Yes. If we can make ourselves sleep during the day, I really do believe traveling at night will be a good idea.”
Lacey continued to look outside. Off in the distance, a man was slowly riding his horse from a barn to his house. He either wasn’t interested or hadn’t noticed them driving up the highway toward Nevada.
She decided to weigh in. “I don’t know, guys. We can’t control what people hear, but we can control what they see. Think about how dark it was in Auburn and on the highway to Placerville. Our headlights could’ve been seen for miles. In the daytime, unless they heard us coming, or happened to be close enough to see us like in town, we could travel undetected.”
Owen jutted his chin out and nodded. “The headlights are like a beacon.”
“Exactly,” said Lacey, who then explained her thought further. “Also, I hope nothing like this happens, but if somebody really wanted to take our truck, they could set up a roadblock if they saw us coming from a distance. That’s more likely to happen at night than during the day.”
“During the day, we can see them, too,” Tucker added.
Owen glanced over at the South Fork of the American River, a pristine blue stream that ran from the peaks of the Sierra Nevada Mountains until it found its way to the Sacramento River. He thought about the fact that all of their water had been stolen.
Up ahead, he noticed the sign for the Sand Flat Campground that was on the lower side of the highway adjacent to the river. They’d stopped by there once before to check out the river. H
owever, they’d never stayed at roadside campgrounds, which were typically frequented by bikers and motor homes. Owen certainly didn’t plan on doing it during the apocalypse.
Nonetheless, it would give them a chance to regroup and fill their water bottles. He eased off the highway and slowly drove down the slope toward the river. He was relieved to see that the parking lot was empty, and there weren’t any campsites in use.
“Let’s catch our breath and repack the truck. Also, we need to fill our water bottles.”
As he pulled to the bottom of the access road, Lacey asked, “Is the water safe to drink? I mean, it came from the mountains, but what if it’s contaminated?”
Lacey and Owen exited the truck, but Tucker remained behind. He stretched his arm down to the floorboard of the back seat and retrieved one of the medical kits he’d taken from the bunker’s closet. He had a hunch, so he opened it for the first time to explore its contents.
He leaned forward in the seat and hollered for his parents. “Mom! Dad! I have something that might help.”
Because he was wedged in by their duffel bags, Tucker crawled through the seats and exited the passenger-side door. He held the medical kit in one hand and a flat package labeled Health Metric in the other.
“What is it?” asked Owen as he twisted and stretched his back. Lacey had raised her right foot behind her, and she grabbed it to stretch her thigh muscles. Both of the adults were still recovering from the cramped quarters in the bunker.
“It’s a water-testing kit,” responded Tucker as he handed it to his dad.
“We’ve got something similar,” said Lacey. “I keep a TDS water-quality tester in my backpack. I don’t know if it works, though.”
“Do you mean the one in the sewing tin?” asked Owen.
Lacey took her job seriously and studied every aspect of outdoor survival. The only part she’d never covered was the aftermath of a nuclear war. This was on-the-job training at its worst.