by Ned Sahin
My brain cells send another signal to go back, like the last warning to myself.
I glance back. A green jungle with everything the beautiful nature offers. The road lays under the bright sun. It’s the route that goes back to civilization or to whatever is left of it.
In one of the post-apocalyptic TV shows I watched before, a couple buried their bunker underneath an abandoned cabin with all windows and doors wide open. Hiding in plain sight strategy worked for them. This family might be following the same tactic. The basement stairs might be going down to their bunker door. It might also be going down to a dungeon full of ghosts and beasts as well.
No matter what there is, I must find out. I am too desperate for the supplies that the family can help provide for my California trip.
I enter the place and take a few steps. There is an open door on the left for the living room and another open door on the right for the kitchen. They both look very small. I lean my head forward to check each room, but nothing captures my attention.
Through the hallway is a half-open bathroom door. I don’t bother checking it out.
I walk toward the last door in the hallway. This one is closed. It must be the bedroom. Placing my right ear on the door, I try to listen in to pick up any sound that may come from the room.
There is nothing but radio silence. I turn the doorknob slowly with my left hand while holding the spray on the right. I gently push the door.
There is a twin-size bed with a drawer next to it. Whoever the ranger was who lived here, it looks like he or she was not into interior design.
A piece of paper on the drawer gets my attention. More than half of it is missing. There is a header on the remaining piece.
“C19 DEPLOYMENT PLAN”
The date “December 7, 2019” is written in small letters at the right top corner of the page.
This was about six months ago. The world was a better place at that time.
I am not sure what to think about this piece of paper. It’s obviously not an address or map to find the family or uncover a buried treasure.
With the encouragement of my archivist inner voice, I stuff the paper in my pocket. As my mom always says, “It may come in handy one day.”
My protective instinct was wrong after all. There is nothing life-threatening here. There is no sign of the family either. I decide to go back to the road and get to my safe hilltop.
After getting a few yards away from the front door, I look back at the cabin one more time. I wonder about what happened here months ago and where the ranger is now. I hope his or her story finds a place in history books in the future and I come across it somewhere.
I smile at my optimism for thinking that I will live that long.
I walk on the right side of the road going back to my safe place. I see leaves on the side of the road piled on around two lines. It looks like the track of the SUV’s tires. How did I miss it before?
I take out a can of chickpeas from my bag and follow the tracks on the rough dirt road. It feels like one of the hiking trips I used to do in my favorite national park near Lake Norman. Except for this time, I don’t have a home to go back after hiking, and certainly, I am not doing this for fun or exercising.
A thin line of smoke rises in the air. It’s not too far from me. If the family is using fire to cook, they must be poorly educated about surviving after doomsday. They say smoke could be seen from 50 miles on a clear day. It is well in the range of Old Fort. I hope Saviors in the town are too busy loitering and drinking to pay attention to this smoke.
I walk for a few minutes toward the source of the smoke. As it gets bigger, I move slower and make less noise. Even though they seemed to be a reasonable family, people are unpredictable in challenging situations.
I was right. It’s the family. I see the father putting out the fire. There is a big iron container next to him. He probably needed to heat some water. Whatever the reason he used the fire for, I hope I am the only person who saw the smoke.
He carries the container back to the farmhouse and closes the door. I decide to wait before taking any actions.
The sun is going down, painting the sky in red. It will be a golden hour soon. I always love this time of the day. I remember my days doing photoshoots with my friends in front of a city skyline or scenery view before sunset.
I hope this family agrees on helping me to get back to some kind of normalcy.
I think about a way of showing myself to them without alarming them. I can just wait for someone to leave the house so I can say “Hello.” I can knock on the door and wait with my hands in the air. Or I can leave a note to give them a heads-up and express my harmless intentions.
Knocking the door seems to be the least threatening way. They would have a chance to see who is at the door and they can scan the area for threats before deciding whether or not to talk to this stranger. There will be probably at least three guns pointing at me but it’s a risk I am willing to take for my grand plan ahead.
I leave my backpack and spray behind. I approach the door slowly and knock. I raise my hands slightly to show my intent for peace.
I see a small wave in the curtain at the window on the right side of the door. I am pretty sure that there is at least one person pointing a gun at me behind the curtain.
“What do you want?” the father yells.
“I... I am sorry to bother... I’m not here to hurt anybody. I just need help. Can we please talk? I don’t have a gun or anything.” I hope the next thing I hear is not a gunshot.
“How did you find us?” he asks.
I like the logical pattern he follows. He sounds like a person with analytical thinking. The next question will probably be, “Take off your jacket” or “Show me your pockets.” I feel like I can land a good deal with him about exchanging supplies.
“I saw you driving on the country road. I was resting nearby. I just followed the road and then saw the smoke,” I say. I think being honest and straightforward would play to my advantage here.
Recounting that I had come back from a fight with an ultra-aggressive human-like thing was not a detail I wanted to reveal for now.
He unlocks the door and points his rifle at me. He first checks me from bottom to top and then scans the area behind me.
He knows I am aware of their safe location. He can’t let me go. He also won’t kill me for having this secret. He has to have a conversation with me.
“Hi… I am on my way to California to find my family. I just need a few things to survive on the road. I can offer a huge stockpile of food and protective gear in return... After today, you will never see me again,” I say.
“That’s what you said at the gas station too,” he says. I can’t stop myself smiling.
“This is really why I am here, sir. Trust me… I have no intention of sticking around.” This is the truth. I hope he can read it on my face. I keep my hands slightly in the air.
“Why should I trust you?” he asks. I feel like I am in an interview with a recruiter. Talking about my previous experience and giving practical examples always helped me in those interviews.
I pause for a second to gather a few talking points before I speak.
“I was working at Smartsoft as an engineer before the world turned upside down. I can show you my laptop with my badge photo and email ID on it... I had to leave my apartment in Charlotte to run away from Saviors. I am… just a guy who is trying to survive… and get to my family. I don’t want to bother anybody, and I certainly don’t want to be like Saviors or… whatever the creature I came across in the woods,” I say.
He pauses for a second and looks at me with a disturbed face. “You saw them too?”
“I saw only one. There are more?” I say. Having more of that human-looking monster in the world was what I was afraid of.
“There are. Come in,” he says.
Chapter 8
“Do you want more salad?” Yolanda asks. Her steel grey ey
es peer out through a wild tangle of hair. She is Miguel Hernandez’s wife.
I am sitting at one edge of the table. Miguel is on the other edge. Yolanda is on my left side. Their daughter Valeria and their son Mateo are on my right side.
“I’m good, thank you, ma’am,” I take another bite of the beef stew and smile. The rich sauce is mixed with fresh tomatoes, wine, olives, and capers. I haven't had dinner this delicious since last year's company dinner.
After Miguel allowed me in the house, they made me sit in the entryway and asked me questions about my family, pre-apocalypse job, apartment, and my escape from the city. I answered their questions with complete honesty. I have nothing to hide.
I think my uncensored responses helped me to gain their trust. Being invited to stay for dinner proves that I passed the initial test.
“How is downtown Charlotte doing?” Miguel asks.
“It’s a mob-town now,” I say. I relay how the mob surfaced after the destruction of social order, and how they outnumbered the local police with the growing number of new recruits who were desperate for food and masks. I never saw the military, at least in my side of the city. They were probably focused on saving Raleigh, the state’s capital.
“Kathleen… Do you think she is one of them now?” Valeria asks. I was hesitant about telling them my attempt to invite my neighbor to join me in escaping the town, but I decided to give the full picture of the events. Valeria must be feeling empathetic for her. She is probably only a few years younger than Kathleen.
“I believe that she is not. I hope…” I say. Saviors are probably giving her daily tasks like preparing food and running errands if they are not holding her locked up somewhere. I hope she is around people like her, and she is away from the violence.
“Can you develop an antivirus to kill the virus?” Diego asks with a curious expression on his face. I like how innocent he is. It’s also a good question for a 10-year old.
“I wish. The kind of antivirus I can develop could kill computer viruses only, but I can develop a simple video game to catch bad guys,” I say, smiling and shrinking my eyes like detectives in movies do when they are on a lead. I see how interested Diego has been in everything I’ve been saying.
“That’s really cool!” he says, impatiently moving on his chair side to side. I chuckle.
“Are you planning to stay here until life goes back to normal?” I ask and turn my head to Miguel.
“Sí. I hope it won’t take too long for presidente to rebuild the country,” Miguel says.
Soon after the second wave hit the country, the president stopped appearing at the press briefings. When the vice president was questioned about his whereabouts, he responded, “The president is in a safe place,” whatever that means.
“I would like to mention a few things to improve this place against intruders, if I may,” I say nervously. I hope I am not being rude.
Miguel nods. “Sure.”
I recommend them not driving their car anymore and hiding it with branches and bushes, using the candles even though they have electricity coming from the generator with the propane tank, moving their little garden to the back of the house, not using fire unless it’s an emergency, setting up booby traps around the house, digging a foxhole to improve the defense, taking turns to watch the area, building a small shelter on a nearby hill to retreat if this place is attacked, and finding ways to connect to other survivors and gather information.
They listen to my recommendations attentively. After I finish, Miguel nods in agreement with my suggestions. He seems to be musing over my ideas.
They all seem impressed by my survival preparedness. I think I get sympathy points for my lone wolf approach as well.
“I saw Saviors in Old Fort. It looks like they are starting to invade rural areas,” I add.
Miguel put his fork on the table, then rests his elbows on both sides of his plate. He locks his fingers together. It looks like he is getting ready to say something important.
“Matt, we may use a hand here,” he says with a friendly look in his eyes. “You are welcome to stay with us.”
As much as I love the comfort of a shelter, I have only one goal I am planning to pursue to the end. It is reuniting with my family.
His wife seems to read my mind.
“Why don’t you sleep on this idea? No rush… We have a guest room,” she says.
I nod, accepting their offer for staying tonight. I can’t hit the road during the dark anyway. I also need time to think through my cross-country trip on foot.
I go outside to grab my bag while Miguel waits for me at the door and scans the surroundings with his rifle—ready to shoot.
I feel happy about having a bed to sleep on tonight. I am amazed by seeing how basic needs like feeling safe, sleeping on a bed, and having warm food can quickly become a luxury after the outbreak.
They plan to take turns to stand watch starting tonight. I offer my help, and my two-hour watch will start at midnight. I don’t think I will be able to have a full night’s sleep anyway. Being on alert, especially at nights, is a new normal in my life.
Diego takes me to the guest bedroom.
“Did you bring your computer?” Diego asks me as he glances at my bag.
“Of course!” I say, showing my pride. I take the laptop out of my bag and turn it on. He sits next to me on the bed with curious eyes on the screen.
I show him one of the applications I worked on. It shows the routes, speeds, break frequency, signal usage, and several other parameters of our driverless cars on the map. We used to have this application to flag possible bad choices of our automation so we could improve the safety of vehicles.
I briefly tell him how we decide if turning or accelerating is not the best idea in certain scenarios. I flag a few actions and their color change to red on the map. Diego loves its game-like interface.
“Diego, let Matt rest a little bit. He must be exhausted,” Valeria says, entering the open door.
“Oh, it’s fine, Valeria. I miss talking about tech,” I say. I give the laptop to Diego. I watch him excitedly clicking on the map and moving the cars around.
“Please call me Val.” She sits on the chair across the bed. “I am sorry for pointing my gun at you in the gas station.” She seems embarrassed.
“You did what you have to do,” I say, smiling.
“You looked very funny hunkered down at the corner of that aisle,” she says while trying to hold her laughter. I can imagine how funny I must have looked at that moment, and I start laughing.
I ask her about what she was doing before the outbreak. She was a dental assistant in a town called Leesburg in Virginia. Since the dentist’s office was closed before the second wave, she came to North Carolina to stay with her family.
“Do you know L’amour?” I ask. It was my favorite coffee shop in that area. I used to live in Virginia as well. The city I lived in is probably about two hours away from her city.
“I love that place! You can’t believe how much I miss their Nutella plate!” Her eyeballs get bigger and her smile gets wider. It’s hard not to get excited when you think about the banana waffle with Nutella on the side to dip strawberries in. It was kind of a reward for me when I completed a challenging project at work or just to celebrate making it to Friday after a long week.
“No way! Nutella plate with hot chocolate on the side is my favorite combination there! We should check it out once this is over!” I say.
“I would love that!” she exclaims. Talking about what we used to do in the pre-apocalyptic world brings good memories back and makes both of us feel happier.
However, the sound of a plane flying above us interrupts this beautiful moment.
I quickly blow out the candle and go to the window to look outside. Moving the curtain slightly, I see only a small light on the horizon. It disappears in seconds. I don’t think it’s a passenger plane. Considering there are no big airports nearby, they shoul
dn’t be flying this low. It’s probably a private jet or a small military carrier.
Maybe the government is rising from its ashes and preparing to save the country. Or it could be from a foreign government that restored the social order in their country and decided to help the United States as well. Either way, I feel relieved about seeing a high technology product of civilization again.
The president will defeat the virus along with bad guys and unite the country soon. I hope.
Chapter 9
It’s my third day with the family. I decided to stay with them a little longer than I planned because I wanted to help them make their place safer.
We moved their garden to the backyard and surrounded it with bushes. It’s not visible anymore to anyone who may walk by in front of the house. We also removed the recently flourished flowers on both sides of the front door. There is no need to inform anybody that survivors might live here with a stockpile of food.
The hardest part was to hide their SUV. We had to destroy one side of the little farm cabin to move the car inside. We built a large wooden door to cover it.
It’s now difficult to tell from a distance if people are living in this house. I know that there will be people wandering around anyway. We need some sort of security.
We built a white picket fence around the house. It’s not for preventing anyone from entering the property, obviously. Anyone can easily jump over it. The plan is to cause invaders to use one of the two openings we left.
One opening is in the front of the house. It’s wide enough for an average size car to drive through. The other one is in the backyard. One person can easily walk through it. We dug trenches under both openings. Each trench is filled with sharpened stakes vertically placed. They are covered with branches, leaves, and dirt. I saw these booby traps in a documentary about the Vietnam War. Locals were able to slow down the soldiers by using these affordable and easy to build traps.
The trenches are the first layer of defense, but they won’t be enough if there is more than one invader. As a second layer of our defense strategy, I placed my laptop’s built-in camera above the front door. I had to detach it from my laptop and connect it to a long copper cable I removed from the vacuum. The laptop is now in the storage room and shows a live image all day long. Just like we take turns for standing watch at night, we now have a lookout schedule during the day as well. There is always somebody in the storage room checking the camera footage.