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Authors: E.E. Borton

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Chapter 7
(Day 3)
Tiny Bubbles

 

 

After walking twenty miles at a brisk pace, sleep came easy.
The only uneasy part was the dreams. They were a mosaic of fire, light, fear,
and love. Sam didn’t come to me in my sleep. She seemed to have made the
transition to a more comforting form while I was awake. I looked around the
room for her but only saw pastel colors and stuffed animals stacked to the
ceiling. The memory of her perfume was replaced with the smell of bacon.

The light storm was less intense than it was the first
evening but it lasted much longer. It seemed to have reserved most of its power
for the city, leaving the windows of the house intact. I made my bed and took
great care to leave the room as I found it.

Noticing the water pressure had dropped, I filled her
bathtubs to the rim. With no power to run the pumps, the pipes would soon be
dry. And before they dried up completely, the clean water would be mixing with
raw sewage. I wanted to leave Ms. Emma with every ounce of clean water
possible.

I found her hovering over the grill, flipping those
wonderful strips of meat. She didn’t notice me as I stood behind her thinking
about the day before. My morning and evening couldn’t have been more different.
I started the day blasting my way through trouble and ended it in a soft bed
with few worries. The thought of leaving that kind woman alone was weighing
heavy on my mind. I knew she didn’t have much food in the house, but she was
offering the best that she had.

“That smells delicious,” I said.

“Good morning, handsome. Did you sleep well?”

“Like a baby.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. This is almost ready. Why don’t you
fetch us some plates and something cool to drink? I think it’s going to be a
hot one today.”

Opening the freezer, I saw several small cubes floating in a
container of water. Once again, she was offering me the best that she had.
Neither one of us would be having iced tea again for a very long time; if ever.
Setting the table, I sat down to enjoy another meal.

“I already know your answer,” said Ms. Emma, “but I’m going
to invite you anyway to stay another day or so. I slept like a baby, too. Most
of the reason being you under my roof.”

I put my fork down and looked at her. “Ms. Emma, I’m not
going to tell you how things started for me yesterday, but I will tell you it
wasn’t good. I thought I wouldn’t be seeing good for a long time. Then I met
you and Scarlett, and that changed.”

“There’s always gonna be good out there, child,” said Ms.
Emma. “In the coming days it may be harder to find out there on the road, but
it’s there. You just gotta trust in people sometimes. You gotta trust that
there’s good in their hearts. The same way I saw the good in yours.”

“I can’t stay, Ms. Emma. But I’m having a tough time
thinking about leaving you behind. You’ve lived a beautiful life. You don’t
deserve to be hurt. And that good out there you talk about, it won’t be enough
to stop the bad.”

She reached across the table and patted my hand. “I dream
every night about being with my boys again, my son and my husband. When the
good Lord decides it’s time for me to go to them, I fear not how I get there.”

“Ms. Emma, I –”

“Don’t you worry about me,” she said, knowing what I was
going to say next. “If trouble comes to my door, I’ll be answering it with the
Word in one hand and a frying pan in the other, amen.”

“Amen.”

We finished our last meal together – talking about her
babies – and I gathered my gear. I tried once again, asking her to lock her
doors and prepare for the worst in people. As I reached the top of the hill
that would take me out of sight of her house, I turned. Ms. Emma was still
defying me, standing out in the open at her front gate, watching my back.

She raised her arm, waving with a final goodbye. I could
only hope to meet another person as warm and comforting as Ms. Emma. But I
doubted it. That woman was one of a kind.

Thank you, Sam.

Ms. Emma’s weather prediction was correct. It was early
morning, but the temperature was beginning to soar. I knew the area well,
deciding to enter the woods of a national park and use the canopy of the trees
for shade. It would add an hour or so to my trip for the day, but I wasn’t
exactly pressed for time. Being pressed would come soon enough.

At that moment, before entering the woods, I realized I had
walked along the road for a while without seeing another soul. Three days into
the event, people were starting to understand this was more than just a power
outage. They were realizing that they were disconnected from the rest of the
world outside of their immediate area. All their information, all their
communication, and all their personal contact were reduced to a tiny bubble
around them.

Understanding the disturbing changes, people were staying
inside the only environment they felt they could control. (It would be the end
of most of them in populated areas.) Their homes would only temporarily keep
out the fear – and the cowards. But eventually both would find a way inside.
And when they did, they would take everything. They would leave nothing but
bodies in their wake.

I knew in a few days most would have to venture out looking
for supplies. A short period after that they would no longer care about how
they got them. The have-nots would take from the haves. Good people would be
forced – by fear – to turn bad. Like me, they’d be looking to save their own
lives or the lives of their families. I had the advantage. I was the only mouth
I needed to feed. I was the only life I needed to preserve.

In less than two weeks, I wouldn’t be able to walk among
them. I’d already faced a few opportunists. A father looking to save his babies
from starvation would be far more dangerous than any thug. Loving parents would
become my new enemies. They would become lethal obstacles between me and
survival.

I can kill a coward. I didn’t know if I could kill a
family’s hero.

Not far into the woods I was overwhelmed with the smell of
fuel. After a few more steps, looking up, I found the source. A small commuter
aircraft was wedged fifty-feet above the ground between two trees.

I found myself reaching to my hip where my cell phone was
normally holstered. Feeling nothing there, I stood silent, shaking my head.
Even if I could’ve magically transported them to an ER, if anyone in that plane
was alive, they wouldn’t be for long.

The nose of it was pointing straight down. A man, I’m
guessing the pilot, was draped over the front of the fuselage. A wide streak of
dried blood painted the panel of the engine compartment. A vulture and several
black birds were fighting and eating at the same time.

Something had ripped open the side of the plane as if a
giant hand had used a can opener. I saw a woman held suspended in the air by a
seat belt. Birds were perched above her seat, waiting their turn.

More of them fighting twenty yards away got my attention. I
don’t know why I felt the need to investigate. I wish I hadn’t.

A young girl, maybe seven years old, was lying on the other
side of a fallen tree. There was nothing I could do for her. I needed to keep
moving. I wasn’t ready to become one of the birds, scavenging the scene. I
wasn’t ready to take from the dead. Not yet.

I returned to the trail and saw a woman in the distance,
kneeling with her back to me. I looked up to see more vultures perched on limbs
above her. When she stood, turning to face me, I smiled.

It was Sam, motioning me to hurry.

When I was close enough to see the reason, she started
walking away. I called out to her, but she didn’t stop. There would be no warm
conversation this time. No hand holding and scent of her perfume. She knew what
had to be done. And Sam didn’t want to be there when I did it.

I knelt beside the man who was struggling to move. He had
been crawling an inch at a time for two days. He had fashioned a tourniquet
around what was left of his leg. He was in shock and didn’t know I was there
until I spoke.

“What’s your name?” I asked, leaning in front of him so he
could see me.

“P-Paul,” he answered through torn lips on a ghostly white
face. “My family…they…my daughter…my wife –”

“We’ve got them, Paul,” I said. “We’re taking them to the
hospital now. They’re hurt, but they’re going to be fine.”

“I-I was trying to get help. I couldn’t find them. My girls,
I couldn’t find them.”

“You did good, buddy,” I said. “Help is here.”

“They’re okay? Both of them?”

“Yes, Paul. You saved them.”

“Are you sure it’s them? I couldn’t find them.”

“Your little girl has light brown hair. She’s wearing a blue
T-shirt and white pants. Your wife has black hair, wearing a green blouse and
jeans. Is that them?”

“Oh, thank you, God,” said Paul, crying. “Yes, it’s them.
Thank you.”

“Paul, I need you lie still, buddy. Rest here while I get
more help. Don’t move. We’ll take you to your family in just a couple of
minutes, okay?”

“Okay.”

He complied and lowered his head onto his arm. I heard him
whispering “thank you” as I took aim. I’d like to think the reason he was
crying was because he knew he’d be seeing his girls again soon. That part of what
I said wasn’t a lie.

In my pack I carried rudimentary medical supplies. I had
butterfly sutures and various sized bandages for minor cuts, one full suture
kit for larger wounds, scissors and a small scalpel. Most of it was filled with
items to treat things you couldn’t see. I had two full doses of antibiotics, a
large bottle of ibuprofen, anti-diarrheal pills and water sterilizing tablets.
None of those things would replace the blood – or the leg – Paul lost.

The single shot was followed by fluttering wings as the
frightened birds took flight. I was regretting not having the time or energy to
bury Paul and his girls. I did risk injury climbing the tree and cutting away
his wife. For some reason I wanted to lay them on the ground together.

I walked back down the trail to where I had seen Sam. I
looked in every direction as I waited. She didn’t come back. As I was preparing
to leave, a vulture landed a few feet away from me. I stared at the bold
animal.

“Following me would be a bad idea, bird. You’ll starve to
death waiting.”

With contempt in its beady, little eyes, it turned and flew
back to the plane. I looked around one last time before heading down the trail.
It wasn’t long before I became angry.

“I did what needed to be done, Sam,” I said, walking. “I couldn’t
do anything for him. He was bleeding to death, thinking he let his family down.
Did you want me to stay and try to help him? He was going to die anyway. There
are thousands – hundreds of thousands – of people just like him right now. Do
you want me to try and save them all? Goddammit, Sam, talk to me. What did you
want me to do?”

Involved in my silly argument with a memory, I wasn’t paying
attention to the trail. When I saw them it was too late. We all made eye
contact at the same time.

All four of us stopped dead in our tracks.

Chapter 8
Goodnight, Sweet Girl

 

 

My mind was transported to the streets of the Old West. We
all stood there for a moment in silence, sizing each other up. One of the men,
the oldest, said something to the two younger boys with him. They stayed behind
as he continued to walk towards me. I didn’t see a weapon, so I decided not to
draw any of mine. He extended an open hand to me.

“Good morning,” said the man. “My name is Marcus Booker.
Those two characters back there are my sons, Andrew and Conner.”

“Pleased to meet you, Marcus,” I said.

“Do you have any idea what’s happening?” asked Marcus.
“We’re a little cut off from everything out here. My boys and I are heading
into the city.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I was in it yesterday and barely made it out
alive,” I said. “Nobody there knows what’s going on either. They’re just as cut
off as you. The best thing to do is turn around and head back home. Prepare you
and your family for things to get much worse. Besides, Atlanta is burning to
the ground right now.”

When Marcus dropped his head, I didn’t need to ask why he
and his boys were on the road heading south. He took a deep breath and then
turned around to look at his sons. The reason was obvious.

“My wife, their mother, is a nurse at a hospital downtown. I
told them to stay behind, but they wouldn’t have it. She’s everything to us. We
need to find her and get her home.”

I stared at him for a moment and then looked back at his teenage
boys. I knew at that point nothing I said to convince them to turn around would
be heard. They were all healthy and strong. No need to lie about what they’d
find on the road to the city.

“Are you armed?”

“No, I don’t believe in guns.”

You will
.

“There are already gangs of looters and cutthroats roaming
the streets,” I said. “Regardless of your personal beliefs, they
are
armed and you need to be. As each hour passes more of them will come out of the
woodwork like cockroaches.”

“Do you…think she’s –”

“Alive?” I said. “More than likely, yes. It’s good that she
works in a hospital…for now. That’s going to change quickly. She’s with people
she knows well, and they’re looking out for each other. She’s much safer than
you’re going to be.”

Marcus motioned for his boys to join us. He was absorbing
every word like a sponge. Confidence is a magnet attracting the unprepared.

“You may be able to find stores along the way that haven’t
been looted yet,” I continued. “You and your boys are going to become those
looters. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No,” said Marcus. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get to
her.”

(I never thought I would become a contributor to the
inevitable decay of social order. But what the hell, at least they weren’t
trying to set me on fire.)

“Gun stores, pawn shops, any place that you suspect may sell
weapons, get those weapons. Take whatever you can find that shoots but try to
get ahold of shotguns and buckshot shells. Just point it in their general
direction and don’t stop firing until they’re down. Are you with me?”

“I am,” said Marcus. “I’ve used shotguns before. I know what
to get.”

“Good,” I said. “Travel along the roads during the day until
you get to the perimeter interstate. Then travel only at night. When the sun
comes up, find a place you can hide and easily defend. Okay?”

“Got it.”

“Get those guns,” I said. “Get her and then get the hell out
of there as fast as you can.”

“I will. Thank you.”

It was a good sign he was anxious to start moving again. I
wished him and his boys good luck, shook their hands, and watched as they
disappeared into the woods.

Marcus didn’t know it, but he was at an advantage over most.
He had a goal; he had something to do and somewhere to go. He was making
decisions and he was on the move. (Albeit in a dangerous direction, but at least
he was moving.) Marcus was going to learn a lot over the next few days. If he
survived the city, his chances of surviving everywhere else were greater.

Reaching the end of the trail, I left the shade of the trees
and resumed my route north along a highway. I looked up to see the blazing sun
directly overhead. Putting on my wide-brim floppy hat, I took a few sips of
water and hit the road.

As I entered a town on the north side of the park, I was
amazed to see most of the storefronts intact. I was even more amazed to see the
number of people on the streets. Some had backpacks, some had bags, some were pushing
shopping carts, but they all had a blank stare. Fear was tightening its grip.

When I approached a strip mall with a large department store
as its anchor, I saw the warning signs lying near the entrance. Items they
tried to loot were scattered among the four bodies. A man with a rifle was
sitting in a recliner at the entrance. Another was inside the doorway talking
to a woman. All three stared at me as I walked by. They weren’t employees or
security guards for the store. They were the winners of king of the hill.

These were the people who were going to survive longer than
others. They had staked their claim on a valuable piece of property. Inside
were enough supplies and food to last a small group of motivated individuals
several months – or as long as they could defend it.

It was a scene that was repeating itself along my route. Two
days out from 8:13, the laws of man were being replaced by the laws of nature.
And those laws would be enforced by a death penalty for any offense. They
didn’t leave the bodies in the parking lot as trophies. They left them as a
line for others not to cross.

I could survive off the food in my pack for a week, maybe
more. But I only had enough water for two days. Walking in the heat of summer
would dry up my supply quickly. I didn’t plan on using either until all other
options were gone.

As I approached the edge of town, the number of people
milling about dwindled. The easiest source of undefended food and water were
vending machines. I spotted two of them in front of a barber shop. It was a
stand-alone building with no obvious activity, but I approached it with extreme
caution.

I peered through the lower corner of a window. If someone
was barricaded inside with a gun, I wanted to give them the smallest target possible.
If I’d seen anyone inside I would’ve kept moving, leaving my prize behind. I
knew a day was coming when I’d have to kill for it. Today wasn’t that day.

After seeing no movement I moved up to the front door. I
looked around, drawing my shotgun just in case. It was locked. Again, it wasn’t
the time to smash through and pillage a store. There wouldn’t be much inside a
barber shop that I could use or carry. What I
was
after was outside on
the porch.

As the glass from the snack machine shattered, I once again
looked around to see if the noise drew any attention. When it didn’t I removed
the only two tools I carried: a pry bar and a hammer. They were the heaviest
objects in my pack, but they were keys to any lock I would come across.

Drinking and eating my fill while I stayed on alert, I
stuffed any space in my pack and pockets with the high calorie food and
refilled my bottles of water. I was impressed with the insulation of the drink
machine. I treated myself to a cold soda before continuing down the road.

As the sun was lowering in the sky, my destination for the
day came into view. The lake was shimmering as a breezed skimmed across the
surface. It brought cooling air to my overheated face.

Popular access points and the public beaches were dotted
with people with the same idea. More than a few were setting up tents and
campsites. I wouldn’t be joining them. My home for the night was still an
hour’s walk away.

Skirting the shoreline trail of the lake, I felt a sense of
relief when I saw it moored to the pier. I didn’t think my friend would be
onboard his houseboat, but I knew he wouldn’t mind if I made it my home for the
night. On the side of caution, I reached behind me and drew one of my pistols.
After using my key I cleared every space onboard that could hide a human.

Climbing to the sundeck, I scanned my surroundings. There
wasn’t another soul in any direction as far as I could see. I removed my pack
and stretched out in one of the loungers. As the sun was setting in my peaceful
world, I thought about Marcus and his boys. I wondered if they made it to the
perimeter; I wondered if they found guns. I didn’t wonder if they were scared;
that much I knew.

When the light started to fade, I became cavalier with my
caution. I lit several Tiki torches that lined the railing. I went down to the
galley to take stock of any provisions. I smiled when I saw the fully stocked
bar.

Why not
?

With a bottle of whiskey and a plate full of food, I
returned to the deck. After my meal by the warm glow of the Tiki torches, I
poured a glass of the good stuff. I leaned back in the lounger and looked up
into the night. I watched in amazement as the tiny white dot traveled across
the sky. When the power was on, it would’ve been impossible to see the
satellite tracking through space.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” said Sam, sitting beside me,
staring into the blanket of stars.

“Yes, it is,” I said.

“I’m sorry I had to leave you today,” said Sam. “I couldn’t
bear to watch. It broke my heart seeing him struggle to find help for his
girls. He didn’t even know they were dead.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I didn’t want to do it. But I didn’t
want to leave him there suffering.”

“I know you didn’t, baby. I don’t think I would’ve been able
to end it for him. You’re stronger than I am.”

“Did you see the father and his sons on the trail?”

“No.”

“He was heading into the city to find his wife. He had no
idea what he was walking into, but I wasn’t going to try and stop him.”

“Why?”

“Because if I knew there was a chance I could’ve saved you,
nobody would’ve been able to stop
me
. I just wish I had that chance.”

“You’ll be safe here tonight,” said Sam. “I need to go.”

“So soon? Where?”

“To help them find her. Goodnight, sweet boy.”

“Good luck, angel. I love you.”

In a blink my Sam was gone. Knowing she wanted to help them
wasn’t a surprise. Like I said, she was just built that way.

I finished off my glass as a sense of calm and peace settled
over me. I don’t think it was the whiskey. I think it was because I knew Marcus
had a better chance of finding his girl with Sam watching over him.

Knowing I had another long walk ahead of me, I went inside
the cabin to find a secure place to sleep. One of the rooms had a porthole wide
enough for me to squeeze through that was several feet above the water. Nobody
would be able to climb up from the lake and get to me.

I secured the flimsy door with two thick planks of wood,
nailing them into the frame. Pulling a mattress off the bunk bed, I placed it
on the deck. I rested my head on the pillow with my feet against the door. (If
someone tried to bust through, I’d hear
and
feel it at the same time.) I
curled up with my shotgun like a child with a teddy bear.

My thoughts drifted to Sam, hovering over Marcus as he
guided his boys into harm’s way under the cover of night. He would never know
she was there. I did.

Goodnight, sweet girl.

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