Pandemic- We’ve Run Out of Toilet Paper!

by Declan McCreary

  The two children scurried like mice before a storm to what had been their home, a grey drab apartment complex that had quite endeared itself to them. It no longer held the spark of life and ceased be a place of joie de vivre. Mary looked around at where they had collected various memorabilia, she had collected a few Barbie dolls, one which she had outfitted to resemble the vogue of their epoch. Had Mattel sold this particular model it might have been the Mad Max Barbie line—the right side of her head shaved from the temple, with one eye, a gun(likely from a Terminator action figure), a knife for a hand, and rags instead of the latest fashion accessories. Jesse was fond of the doll, he remembered what it used to look like and what his dad would say if he played with it, “that’s your sister’s toy,” well now it seemed the new Barbie was more fit for this hell-hole lifestyle than dad, maybe he was wrong about the doll.

  “What are we going to do now?” asks Jesse, still fazed from his parents passing.

  “I’m not sure, but we’ll think of something,” she says, not without a hint of doubt.

  “Who’s gonna tell us bedtime stories and protect us, how are we going to eat, what if those people come back?”

  “I can tell you stories and protect you Jesse,” she says, feeling in that moment her duty as eldest.

  “But you’re just a kid!” which startles Mary. It’s true, she’s just a child and uncertain where to go, how to acquire food, and she isn’t even sure she knows a whole lot of good bedtime stories. But they must go on, this she feels without question.

  “I know, but that’s ok, let’s get ready for bed and we’ll make a plan tomorrow, ok?”

  Jesse looks skeptical, pathetic even in his Ninja Turtles t-shirt, with a hole on the shoulder, then he nods in acquiescence.

  The next morning they’re awoken by loud footsteps and they both freeze in panic. A strange man, bedraggled, with a broken Swiffer, smelling quite awful storms into their apartment wild-eyed. He looks like he’s homeless but mostly harmless. They look at each other and then back to the intruder.

  The Band Sets Out

  Upon awaking my eyes creak in my skull. My mouth feels like I haven’t brushed my teeth in a couple months and a fox climbed in to make its coffin there overnight. Life ain’t grand, but I’m still alive so that’s something. I wade through the wrappers and bottles and notice the siblings playing some weird game with trash, I get my backpack and have a little breakfast and take in some water. The kids hear me and come out from the bedroom and I share my canned beans with them, these aren’t spoiled kids and they seem to enjoy them. Once society stopped abetting a system of decadence, you’re happy to get what you can.

  “We can’t stay here you know, eventually we’ll just die or run out of food, we need to keep moving,” I let them know.

  “But there’s nowhere to go.” Mary frowns and Jesse nods his head.

  “We’ll find a place doesn’t matter how far away we’ll get there, maybe we can find my friends and family,” I reassure them. “Get everything that’s important to you and put it all together in a bag or something you can carry, food and water is obviously important if you have any stashed away here.”

  They spend the next few minutes putting some broken trinkets, what looks like garbage, and some Gatorades and bagged chips into a torn up back-pack. I make sure I’ve got my broken Swiffer/Broom still intact, food and water, the gun, and all my sundries.

  “If you guys come with me there’s just one simple rule you need to follow, otherwise you’re quite likely to get really hurt. Listen to what I say, what I say is high priority like when your mom or dad.....” I cut myself off realizing this is no place for kids, in fact this isn’t a place for anyone. “I mean, just make sure you listen to me guys, I don’t want anything bad to happen.” They look at one another and utter a few things I don’t catch and then both say okay.

  “First plan of action is to avoid the people from the other day. Second we need to get a car and drive East, we can stop at city centers and look for more supplies like snacks and food, let’s go.”

  We head downstairs and as the stairs creak I feel a new weight, or maybe just heaviness I haven’t felt since the collapse. I’ve just taken on a responsibility without even considering it, this isn’t normal behavior for me; I usually frantically check every single website for reviews before I make even the most trivial of purchases, but adopt two strange kids, sure why not. That reality hits me pretty hard and my fears flood back. They are baggage with needs—they are slow, if they get hurt it’s my fault. I shake my head rapidly as if that’ll undue the new etching that has branded my brain. I open the door to the outside world slowly and light floods in as I narrow my vision. My hand flies up behind me to signal them to keep back as I check the coast. My car from yesterday is in worse shape than when I left it, it says Face Rape Death on the side in red paint-pleasant people. The building opposite to us is new but retro fucked. It hasn’t been weathered by age but by complete chaos and rapid suffering. The brickwork is covered in a patchwork madness of posters about quarantine and bio-hazards, elsewhere vague warnings of religious significance. The sun is warm on my face and I look back at Jesse and Mary as I feel a resurgence of good feels and maybe even what some think of as happiness. A cool tranquility and ease caresses my heart and I take Jesse’s hand and tell him to take Mary’s hand and we start our march down the street in search of wheels.

  As we walk amidst debris it’s like New York City during a city workers strike, garbage and refuse galore without a soul to care. Three dogs trot out from a side street ahead and stop once they become cognizant of our presence. My feet slide apart and plant firmly, I hold the Swiffer death stick in front of me like an untrained Samurai—I try to remember the wisdom of Aang’s uncle Iroh-keeping balance. I search my memory of Samurai Champloo for fighting tactics. The lead one-eyed dog cocks his head for a brief interlude and then trots off and his two companions follow. We move on cautiously and take a left around the next corner, I put my hand on the revolver this time as we keep moving. I eye a cop car up ahead with a body slumped over the steering wheel. We rush over to it and I pull the body out, keys still in the ignition with a quarter tank of gas. The kids don’t even seem to mind the dead body, go figure. They get in the back and by the grace of god the car starts. I look behind me at the kids, “Buckle up for safety, you wouldn’t want to get hurt would you?”

  We start the drive for round two. This time I’m armed and carrying precious cargo, if the marauders show up someone is dying. As we drive slowly I take in the city; a landscape littered with cars, bodies and unusual messages canvass the city. I don’t know the layout nor where to head so it becomes a matter of trial and error; suddenly as if out of a different world and unreal space-time the kids ask “are we there yet?”

  “I’ll tell you when we get there, your job is to look out for highway signs and bad guys,” I respond.

  Eventually we get onto I-76 East and pick up speed with our windows down-I look back to see the kids beaming, the speed always feels good. Speed has a way of out-running fear and the faster you go the further back it seems. After a couple hours we pull over because they want to pee and we do so at an abandoned rest station and check for gas. Pumps still work and the kids feel refreshed, not much to raid in the stores though except a few Slim Jims they found underneath the fridge, crafty kids. We get back on the road and eventually see an exit for a small town ahead.

  “You guys want to check it out?” I ask.

  “YEAAA!” they scream back, I feel like I’m back teaching middle school again.

  The exit takes us onto what looks like a main avenue and we head down in the direction of buildings. Not too far into the town there’s a large gathering of people so I slow to a stop a good quarter mile off. My hands start to perspire the palpitations return as my mind turns from neutral to uncertainty and doubt.

  “What are they doing?” Jesse asks.

  “I’m not sure, I’m going to pull up slowly, then get out and approach the
m because it looks like they are trying to get inside that store, they might be good.” Internally I second guess myself, maybe this isn’t wise, but it could also be a group of people to join. The prospect of community slightly stills my anxiety like a blanket of warm water. I pull the car up slowly and some of them notice me and notify others. As I pull up I stop with enough distance between us that should I need to I can book it back to the car. I get out of the car and tell the kids to stay put. I stop and reconsider, “Do either of you know how to drive a car?”

  “I’ve seen momma do it lots of times,” Mary says.

  “Ok, sit here in the driver’s seat, if I start running really fast back at the car put it in reverse and as soon as I get in hit the gas pedal all the way down to the floor. Can you do that Mary?” I question her gently.

  “Uh huh, I can,” this makes me feel somewhat fine, on the other hand my fate is now potentially in her hands, a young girl I barely know.

  Walking slowly towards the group I start to piece together the scene. They are essentially all clumped around a convenience store with a metal grate protecting the entrance and windows. Some of them have sticks and others are armed with rakes and axes. Most of them are completely unkempt, farmers from a bygone area that’ve never heard of or cared about personal hygiene. Before I know it a somewhat familiar smell wafts into my mind, except it’s even more horrendous and I realize it’s the group of people before me. Putrid, horrible, piss, shit, and suffering all combined with barbarism give rise to a pungently powerful aroma.

  “Who are you, where you come from?” one of them yells out.

  “I’m just looking for a safe place running from marauders, what’s going on here?” I ask.

  One of them steps forward, a white man with a dirty bandana on his head. He’s tall, strong built but not athletic, the kind of man that once he gets a hold of you there isn’t much light left for you in this world. Should you be quick and light on your feet he’s not insurmountable.

  “Truth be told, we got ourselves a minor inconvenience. You see here, this shop be the last place we got to get food. Problem is, Rodney done locked hisself up in here and ain’t comin out. Now usually we’s all sharin’ between ourselves of what’s left since the incident. Rodney got hisself some ideas bout taking it all on hisself. Now we’s all gathered here but it’s locked on the inside o’ the gate, we already did shatter the windows, but ain’t gettin in,” he explains.

  I come closer and look at what he’s described. It’s a normal, but packed, corner store with a metal gate—near the top of the gate are slitted openings through which arms can reach, and shattered store windows. I imagine they threw rocks through the slits in an attempt to entice Rodney back out. People yell out to Rodney on occasion, mention a crushed skull, and the rights of man, etc. All are fairly intent on letting Rodney now the present impropriety of his behavior, but to little avail. Further inspection finally yields the culprit sitting with his back to the stacked goods eating what looks like canned peaches. It looks quite delicious to be honest.

  “How long’s this been going on?” I ask.

  “Long ‘nuff so as we gettin’ real hungry. We been travellin’ from town to town see, and finally Rodney cracked.”

  “Well I got an idea, but it’s risky and messy.” From the darkness of my mind, out of some obscure problem solving region an idea arises for which I take no credit for, but was in fact a rather brilliant thought-idiotically gifted at the same time. Maybe it was partly a desire to just do something insane, maybe I genuinely thought it would be helpful, and partly because things just mattered in an altogether different way at this point in humanity’s life that I actually thought we should do it. What happened next is one for the history books. When humanity gets restored to the glory it once had or alien historians document the occurrences that took place at these coordinates, what happened on this day will have its own chapter, and a bio all about me and my extraordinary exploits. I tell everyone to start shitting into a bucket and putting anything else nasty they can find into it. As we’re doing this I notice an old newspaper on the ground, trodden by foot but still legible. I pick up it the headline is “Climate Change now thought to be central factor in spread of disease,” I don’t think much of it but subconsciously I feel an old cynicism rise up in me. We just couldn’t live peacefully on this rock and just had to fuck it up. Well this is the finale of post-industrial society, it isn’t what it was cracked up to be.

  The yokels in this part of town follow along with what any rational agent would take as lunacy and actually start shitting in a bucket. Some of the younger members of their party find a dead rat, bird, and vomit to add to our witch’s brew. I spit in the bucket not really wanting to actually get close to the concoction we’ve made. The questions start coming at me from our new potential friends.

  “Biological warfare fellas, you smoke him out for lack of a better term,” I tell them. At first a skeptical grimace ripples through these people and slowly knowing smiles show their jubilation.

  “So we gon’ throw all this shit at Rodney? Hahaha, this gon’ be good, real good!” yells a woman with a face that has felt the winds of many moons.

  “That son’fo’bitch gon’ see why you listenun to us!”

  I peer into the bucket from afar on tiptoes. A real witch’s brew, a miasma of gunk and goo fit only for a soul bent beyond death. Mary and Jesse stand nearby-smiles blazing-their white teeth a stand out component in an otherwise grim globe. I reckon that’s what kids are into these days, what a time to be alive.

  “Alright you hooligans, now all you have to do is go and show him what’s at stake. A simple question will suffice, would you like us to throw this at you?” My eye closes slightly, like Robert DeNiro with a grimace to match.

  “I’ll throw it,” chirps an eager redneck and he whoops and hollers towards the store gate. As he descends upon the store, like a centurion coming upon a castle to siege, he says “Rodney, you stupid motha’ fucka’ you gettin’ what’s comin’ to ya.” With his feet spread apart, mouth agape smiling.

  “I ain’t comin out,” says the beleaguered Rodney.

  It’s at this point that our American centurion with the bucket whips it forward, a perfect trajectory of liquid suffering gently cascades over the gate and into Rodney’s once sanctuary. A shriek pierces our ear drums like a bat twisted in two. Rodney yells with indistinguishable ferocity; a string of unknown adjectives said with such panache that one had to smile that such a game wasn’t illegal, not anymore. Judge, jury, and executioner—a quick witted industrious person could really make a name for themselves in a world like this.

  Moments later the gate flies up and he scuttles out like a rat escaping a flooding drainpipe. “FUCK YOU BASTARDS,” he garbles covered in crazy goo and in that moment everyone descends upon him, violent intent in the air.

  “Don’t, you already got what you wanted!” I yell hoping to avoid bloodshed. I hadn’t foreseen the moral weight or the political intrigue that would lead to murder. A woman with a bat runs at him and I take out my Swiffer and jump into her path, she draws aback confused. Behind me two men make their way towards Rodney with chains ready to whip his stinking body into a carcass.

  “Please, don’t!” I yell as they raise the chains.

  Rodney bewildered with the new chain of events, suppliant with hands drawn together in prayer. The chain swings up, my heart jumps, and in that moment the man vomits. The other man covers his mouth and retreats, Rodney saved by the utter wicked pungency of our biological weapon. My body relaxes as they realize he’s got a defense matrix of their own creation and laugh. Some rush into the store to get water, snacks, medicines, and anything else of value.

  “Thanks stranger, you don’ right by us,” a woman tells me. Jesse and Mary stand astounded, unsure of exactly what happened, knowing only it was great fun. I nod and we start to head back to the car.

  “Uhhh, you know, have a good day guys,” I say while the kids wave and the crowd jeers us on, we g
et in the car and start cruising on.

  Surviving the Human Extinction Part 2

  Day X: Jesse, Mary and I drive on and on. To where we go, only uncertainty is certain. A train headed into a wall that speeds up is foolish because eventually it crashes, we’ve already crashed so we may as well accelerate. The rednecks were kind enough to give us a nice re-supply which the kids munch on, without greed—a kind of serenity has taken over their minds; I wager it’s on account of having me around.

  With the windows down we feel the cool drizzle coming in, refreshing on a hot day. The sun shining, trees dancing with the wind, and the kids smiling in my rear-view mirror renews the wellspring of goodness in my heart.

  The revolver lays on the passenger seat granting its own kind of happiness-but possibly only the illusion of invincibility.

  “I have to pee,” shatters my thoughts, so I pull over. I get out with the kids and scan the area as they run off into the trees.

  “Not too far stay within ear shot….. stay close enough so I can hear you!” I shout.

  Jesse and Mary run back giggling, I don’t question their mirth and back on the road we go. As the sun begins to descend we hit a long clearing and I make out what looks like a farm in the distance.