“Hopefully that won’t be necessary, but we’ll be prepared either way.” She’s got me thinking.
“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.” She starts to get up.
As we head out of the laundry room, I pick an after-dinner game. “Alright everyone, after dinner it’s Cards Against Humanity time. We need some good laughs. Everybody in?”
“Let’s fill the waterBOBs first, just in case, okay. Then we can eat and play.” Sam gets one set up by each bathroom. “These will hold 100 gallons each and will keep the water pure for three months. If shit continues to hit the fan, and water quits coming to the faucet, these will be a tremendous help! Simon, you and Eli go fill this one in the other bathroom.” When they’re both full, we all sit down to chicken vegetable soup with ham and cheese scones. Then we push vitamins on the kids.
“Wow guys, this soup is fabulous!” Sam exclaims.
“The scones are delish!” Dixie swoons with delight.
Then we gather in the living room to play and plan. “Do you think anyone was in class today?” Gracie asks, taking one foot in her hand and pulling it up over her head from behind, touching her nose.
“Only fools!” Dixie pipes in, practically bouncing. “Hey, Eli, were all the pretty girls sick the other day?” She elbows him, practically tickling him, possibly flirting with him. She’s been like this with him since she was in first grade.
“Most of ‘em,” he teases. “Thankfully there were still a few in class or I’d have left. Read that black card again. I don’t think I have anything good.”
“Don’t go in the bathroom, there’s blank in there,” Sam reads dramatically. “Come on, guys, give me some cards, I’ve only got three.” With six of us playing, she needs a couple more.
Eli tosses his card, “Okay, fine, that’s all I’ve got.”
Sam picks up the cards, “All right, then, don’t go in the bathroom, there’re 72 virgins in there!” There are a sprinkle of laughs. “Don’t go in the bathroom, there’s a big black dick in there!” More laughs.
“Alright.” She dumps a couple immediately. “Don’t go in the bathroom, there are crumbs all over the god damned floor in there!” She and I always laugh about that one. We’ve been laughing about our sloppy kids, now adults for years. She sorts through the remaining choices. At the end of the evening, Sam tells me they’re going home to gather everything useful, returning in the morning to face this together. We acknowledge our kids are adults, but 20 is different than 40.
I head into Gracie’s room to hug and kiss her. “I love you, sweetie. Duermete con angelitos!” Sleep with angels.
“Do you think they’ll be okay?” Gracie asks, worry in her voice.
“They got through today, didn’t they?”
She barely smiles in acknowledgement. I turn to Eli’s room, telling him the same message, including, “Have a good chat with God or Rasheen!” I know he believes in the spirit world, while Gracie isn’t sure.
“I love you, too, Mom.” He’s always been more comfortable with his feelings than Gracie. He gives me a squeezy hug back. Going to sleep is challenging, but I focus on meditation rather than worrying about our friends, traveling to their home safely.
Six
Eliana
Fear of the Illness
The next morning, I wake up hearing Eli talking with Gracie.
“This situation is totally fucked. People were hypothesizing about what’s going on in class the other day.”
“Walking to Dixie’s yesterday was pandemonium!” Gracie agrees.
“Yeah,” Eli agrees. “Me and some guys were talking about what we all have in common. We hammered out what we know about friends of ours who are gone. They got flu shots. One guys suggested a biological weapon leak.”
“In the flu shot? Crazy, but… Everyone I know who got sick had the flu shot!” Gracie shakes her head. “I haven’t gotten a single text back.”
“I haven’t either. It fucking sucks!”
“Do you really have to swear all the time?” Gracie’s disgusted.
“Ah, whatever.” Eli groans. “Anyway, it was super weird that the guys I was hanging with are all vaccine free. They didn’t get immunized, didn’t get flu shots, and no processed food. When we processed what we know about the guys we’re missing, we realized they all got the flu shot, and have really different lifestyles. Can you believe that shit?”
“I’ve always been concerned about immunizations,” I say walking in. “From my perspective, they weaken the natural immune system and you don’t know if the immunization is for the right flu.” Gracie is sitting on a chair with both her legs tucked behind her head. She’s often stretching herself into what appears to be impossibly painful positions.
“Immunizations are crap,” Eli agrees.
“No one was showing up for appointments either, but I know I’ve been exposed,” I muse. “We probably all have. I’m glad we got the Bug-Out-Bags all geared up. I’ll make some more tea.”
I get out my yoga mat after starting water to boil. I’m not comfortable going out for a walk right now, although I prefer walking outside. I know exercise is crucial for the brain, outdoor exercise is even better.
Gracie pipes in. “It was so scary yesterday. Walking to Dixie’s was freaky, and then waiting for Sam and Simon was almost worse!” She unfolds her body and slides into a split on the floor, with one foot on the chair. “This is really scary, Mom. I can’t believe how many are sick and we haven’t seen Alex or Jonathan yet. I don’t want to lose another brother!”
I stroke her foot, all I can reach. “I know, sweetie. This is uncharted territory.” She gets up then, beginning to eat a kale potato frittata. Sheba starts growling at the front window and there’s a knock at the door. I get up, look through the peep hole, seeing Sam and the kids. I figured it was, given the friendly sound of Sheba’s growl. I yank the door open. “I’m so glad you all made it back!”
“I brought every important thing in the house. Good thing we unloaded the RV last night.” She punches the air above her head. “We’re gonna do this thing!” She always has a positive attitude in any situation. I usher them all in. Dixie and Simon collapse at the table with Gracie and Eli, philosophizing about what’s going on with our world. Dixie play punches Eli, “Think there are any hotties left?”
Eli groans, “Sickies, not hotties…”
“Let’s go to the garden and see what needs to be canned,” I suggest, restless and fidgety. “I need a distraction…this is so surreal. I wonder how long it will last?” It feels wrong to be home when it’s not a snow day.
“Look for anything we can put up for winter.” Sam says, the prepper in her talking. “There’s no way of knowing how long this will last.” Together we can keep our spirits up.
“I’m going to check to make sure the generator is working.” I explain, needing activity. The anxiety is pushing me to prepare for an emergency, even though I still haven’t fully absorbed the current situation. I sense my guides pushing me. “Eli, Simon, could you please chop wood, and finish the outhouse for the composting toilet?” After it’s out of my mouth, I wonder what made me say it.
“Let the boys do that,” Sam teases me. “They’re grown men!” She gives them the evil eye. Simon opens his eyes wide at her.
“Don’t give me that look!” she scolds. “Get with it!”
“Gracie, Dixie, could you please help me with the produce?” I ask. I figure its harvest season, so we might as well can our produce. It’ll give us something to do, keeping our minds and hands busy on something useful.
They soberly murmur assent as we head out into the back yard. I survey the yard, the green house, shop, and food gardens. I feel grateful that Jose moved the trampoline to the north end, increasing our garden size, adding asparagus and several more rows for veggie planting. I glance at the additional blueberries he put in while my mom lived with us. I miss him now as I appraise all he’s done for us, considering how sustainable he’s made this urban haven. I pu
ll out my phone and take the risk to call.
“Jose, when you get this message, could you call me?” He doesn’t answer. I sag in disappointment.
“I’m glad papá finished the cellar before moving,” Gracie mutters.
We head for the fig tree with a bucket, reviewing who we know with the flu and who is healthy. We decide who we want to check in with, talking about the farm where we buy meat and milk. “I’ll call them and see how they’re doing.”
When we get back inside, we grab a handful of plums and frozen produce from the freezer. I begin making a fruit smoothie while I call my friend at the farm to check in. One of the original homesteaders, they started Polyrock Ranch with 450 acres just outside of Eugene in the tiny town of Crow. I call on the landline and get an answering machine. I use my cell, both calling and texting. Though their farm isn’t organic, everything is raised sustainably and with love, so we like their meat.
“I’m texting Papa,” Gracie tells me, pulling one leg up behind herself, all the way over her head, touching her forehead. Sam hands her the phone, her foot sliding back to the floor.
“Yeah, mom, me too,” Simon tells his mom. He and Eli both used to be shy, but they’ve outgrown it. We sink into chairs, the changes weighing on our nerves. I watch the younger kids texting their dads, praying we’ll all be together, even as friends. I wonder about my older kids, hoping they’ll show up. I pull my phone out, rapidly texting them, begging them to come home. I lost Rasheen, but I have two other adult sons who I want with us. Alex is thirty, working for the government as a botanist, studying local plant life. Jonathan is twenty-eight, and just started interning at the hospital to complete his medical training.
We text family, friends, important people, hoping someone will get the message.
We work together freeze drying some of the fruit, canning the rest.
“I wonder about the water…” Sam begins. “Rob would know….” She pauses again.
“What are you thinking?” I urge her to continue.
“I wonder how long the water will be good if things get bad. I don’t know…” She pauses again as if she’s trying to grasp an idea which isn’t quite reachable. “If people are dying outside, maybe there are fewer people manning EWEB. I wish I could reach Rob. He’d know.”
“Maybe we should start boiling it before drinking it just to be safe?”
“It’ll be okay for a few days. Hopefully Rob will be here soon, to ask,” she clarifies.
“Do you like fig glaze? We can drizzle it on stuff for flavor.” Since there aren’t many figs, I’m making a glaze. They’re not sweet enough to eat fresh this time of year. I find myself looking through the fig glaze at nothing. “I’m so grateful you’re here with me. I wouldn’t want to face this with just the kids.” I think of the land we bought a few years ago, closer to town, two houses side by side with 2 1/2 acres. I file that away in my mind, wondering if we’d be better off there where the men are.
It’s getting on toward lunch when Sheba starts a friendly rumbling in her chest. Excitement sizzles inside, knowing it has to be someone she knows. I rush to the front door to look out the peep hole. My whole body relaxes in relief seeing Alex. Thank God! He comes in, locking the door behind him, dropping several bags on the floor. “Good Gawd, Mom, I’m fucking glad you guys are here and…” he looks around, “everyone’s okay?” He tosses a coat he was carrying on a chair and we hold each other briefly.
“Yeah, we’re okay, a little traumatized, but okay. You?” I say, stroking his back.
“The same. It’s fuckin’ crazy shit out there.” His shirt reads: ‘No, I don’t want sex. I’ve been fucked by the government enough already’. It’s short sleeved with a long sleeved one underneath, the all black material contrasts sharply with his blonde curls, which he wears pulled in a long ponytail. “I left work early. There wasn’t anyone left there. Those guys are so fuckin’ unhealthy. What about Jose? Have you heard anything?”
“No,” I say quietly, disappointed he’s not here despite the problems we’ve had in the past. I know the kids need him and I’m beginning to need him, too. “The kids texted him, but I don’t know if he’s getting the texts. What about your dad?” Alex strides into the kitchen, grabs some food from the fridge and sits down to have a snack.
“I can’t reach him.” I look out the back window. The guys are still chopping wood and it looks like the outhouse is coming together. “I’ll get the guys some lunch. We should all eat. It takes food to keep the old brain functioning well. Then we can work together to process the rest of this stuff, okay?” There’s a murmur of agreement.
After lunch we start prepping the food to be canned from the garden. “Mom, I’d like to go look for Jose and my dad, okay?” Alex consults with me privately. “I think we need Jose here.” He always recognized and appreciated Jose, his carpentry and agricultural knowledge.“I wish you would.” I rub his back. “I think we all need him here. I just don’t want you to go alone. It’s dangerous out there.”
Sam walks in at the end of it. “I’ll go with him. Can Eli come? Simon, come on.” Sam jumps right in. She walks back to the laundry room and I’m relieved knowing she’s taking weapons with her.
“Yeah, I guess, but you guard him with your life!” She returns, strapping on an arsenal; knives, guns, and ammo. We embrace tightly before they leave.
“Stay safe!” I admonish. “Alex, if your dad doesn’t want to stay in his house, he’s welcome with us!”
“Thanks, Mom.” Alex says, the four leaving in Alex’s car. “Rob is with Jose, right?” I hear Alex asking on the way out. The jitters return, but at least I know they have protection.
“Ladies, let’s stay busy while they’re gone.” I head outside with the apple corer.
“If you get the machine set up, I’ll get them started,” Gracie offers.
“Thanks, babe. Here are the buckets. See how many of these apples you can get through.”
I left several buckets of keepers in the cellar to eat later. I set up the apple machine, as Gracie cranks the handle with Dixie helping the production line at the backyard table. It’s not that cold and sun warms us as we work. Between apples from our trees, the buckets of apples from Jose’s friend, and the bags I picked up today, we’ve got our work cut out for us.
I’m grateful for the canning we did over the summer, particularly the last few weekends, canning apple sauce, tomatoes, tomatillo salsa, pickles and dilly beans. I felt my guides pushing me at the time, but had no idea why. Now I know. I think back over the summer, realizing I did more canning this summer than usual. I always can the food we can’t eat to avoid waste during fall harvest abundance. An image flashes in my mind of our wall of jars, either empty canning jars or full of canned fruit. Right now, they’re mostly full with only a few empty canning jars.
I turn the radio on but instead of music, we hear news:
“Thousands are dead today in the worst flu epidemic to hit the country in centuries. The flu vaccine seems powerless, as many vaccinated are dying. The hospitals are overflowing…” I change it, finding music, sweet, calm, classical, but the horror of the numbers of dead fills the air. Nausea flares, thinking about my sons out with Sam, their dads unaccounted for, Jonathan at the hospital, and only the girls here with me. Tears prick my eyes. I can’t lose another child, makes an endless loop in my mind. I feel the weight of being the only grown up in the house.
I’m working on prepping more tomatillos while I wait for the girls to come in with apples. I find myself praying that more return than the numbers who left. Rob and Jose live nearby in our rentals. It’s barely a ten-minute drive and they should be back by now. My mind begins a frantic list of possibilities that could have occurred, keeping them from returning. I try to focus on the music as a distraction, but anxious tears threaten to spill, so I head to the bathroom. I sit down on the cold ceramic edge of the bath tub, letting them fall, crying with silent grief. Hard, racking sobs tighten my muscles as I slide off the tub to the flo
or. ‘I can’t lose another child, not another child!’
Seven
Sam
Searching
“Let’s head straight up to the house. They could both be there if they stayed home,” Alex suggests.
“Yeah. They both have government jobs, so they’ve got to be home by now.” Sam’s convincing herself as well as them. They take a residential route with cars abandoned on the side of the road, more people down, motionless. Her world is showing considerable destruction outside and it sends shivers down her spine.
“Gawd, it’s a fuckin’ wreck out here,” Alex fumes, threading through the cars left on the road. They turn east, down a hill, finding a group of wild-eyed men staggering out from behind a house. Their lips are swollen and cracked, they moan, gasping, beginning to throw rocks at the vehicle.
“Duck!” Sam screams, her heart galloping in her chest, as Alex stomps on the gas and the car flies forward. The windshield explodes with the impact of a large, dark, object, whacking Alex’s head.
“Fuck!” Alex screams, grabbing his head with his left hand as the car lurches to a sudden halt with a sickening crunch of metal on metal against a nearby parked car. Heavy rocks begin smashing the car.
“Let’s go, let’s go!” Sam screams.
The gang gets closer as the engine whines, attempting to catch. Alex tries repeatedly, and at the last minute, the engine turns over. He slams the car into reverse, screeching away from the curb. He rams into the crazed gang, hitting the leaders. He slams it in first gear, stomping on the accelerator, squealing away from the screaming mob. Eli groans, “Thank God we got away!”
Sam adds breathlessly, “I think we’re safe.”
Within a half a mile, steam erupts from under the hood, the engine sputtering and dying. Alex eases the vehicle to the side of the road, looking back at the boys. Sam sees Alex’s large gash over his left eye, gushing blood, flowing over his eyebrow and cheek.
Considerable Destruction Series (Book 1): Evasion ( Page 6