Other than a human smorgasbord, it was once a place where people holed up. Probably traveling, saw the sanctuary information and stayed for the night. Canned goods and other food items were scattered about on the floor. I spotted a large backpack and lifted it. I would take those items. Even though Leah and I had packed the car, I didn’t know if I would need more.
I didn’t have time to dally and I looked around.
The entire place was nothing but a shrine to surviving.
On the far wall was a huge map of West Virginia, one of those ‘you are here’ jobs. Next to it was one of the United States. Circled on the map in thick marker were the areas of sanctuary cities. Along with notes on the map.
Avoid this route. Take this route.
A string was taped to a marker than dangled on the frame of the map. Written big on the wall was the instruction, ‘Leave info for others that may pass through.’
People did and they left more.
John and Cindy Gray were there.
Melvin Hayes was looking for his daughter.
Along with factual speculation information about what was ahead.
Carver Town Vee Free
Bruceton infected
Heard I-79 was clear.
EAS reports highway blocked at mile marker nineteen.
When I saw that, I looked at the map. A blocked highway wasn’t good. It meant I had to get off the highway either at Bruceton, the infected town, or before and take backroads to get to I-79. My gas situation was still good, but the loop around meant using more fuel. I could still make Carver Town, but there was now a chance I’d have to stop for the night.
The slight noise from my newborn son reiterated that.
I embedded the information I needed in my mind, then stuffed that backpack with things I’d need. I especially looked for bottled water. That was important for Edward and feeding him, keeping him clean. I would also check the cars outside for fuel.
Every little bit helped.
After I grabbed what I could from the floor, I lifted a map from the holder on the map wall and I walked out of the center.
As soon as we stepped outside, Edward started to fuss even more.
I had to change and feed him before I drove any further.
It was early, not even noon. I had a good six hours to get to Carver town or find a place for the evening.
It was doable.
RECALL
17 DAYS EARLIER
August 17
Early on, when we first hunkered down inside our house, only occasionally would scores of Vee mob outside, moving around in no particular order. It was as if they knew we were in there, but the journey up to the house was a bother.
At first they did. A few pounded relentlessly at our house. Then with simply blocking the windows and staying quiet, they moved on. Not far, but they were pounding on the house like a mini rerun of Night of the Living Dead.
After a week, they just moved on. They were still in the area, occasionally when we were really quiet we could hear an agonizing scream. Someone in the distance dying. The Vee were still finding people to attack.
We had become complacent.
Our home had a feeling of sanctuary. We lucked out, the Vee never returned to our neighborhood and we had no desire to leave. I made frequent trips out of the house to scavenge from the neighbors. Occasionally we’d venture out to be daring, to break the monotony and boredom. We had more than enough food and water.
Eventually the Vee would die off… eventually.
For the time being, the world was ours.
I kept trying the television after the programming ceased. Every day, twice a day just in case it returned.
Leah didn’t bother or care to. She had her own routine. Surprisingly, we still had power and while we used minimal lights, she spent a lot of time in the back room, windows boarded and the small air conditioner running. The only room in the house with an air conditioner.
The constant hum of the cooling machine never garnished attention.
She kept the door closed and I loved going in there after the house got too stifling. Walking in was like a blast of refreshment to my entire body.
In her pregnant state, the heat made her hands and feet swell, so she needed to be cool.
Leah always looked peaceful. Either on the bed or in the rocking chair.
“Hey.” I opened the door and walked in with a ‘aw’ of relief.
She was on the bed and looked up to me from her hardback journal, and smiled. “You’re welcome to stay in here.”
“No, you say that now,” I said. ‘But then you’ll kick me out saying I am making the temperature go up.”
She giggled.
I lay on the bed next to her. “I’m making food. Did you want to eat in here?”
“No, I’ll come out. Let me finish this entry.”
I tried to peek and she pulled it away.
“What?”
“You can’t look. One day when I’m gone, you can read my thoughts. Until then…”
“Considering I’ll be gone before you, you should let me see now.”
“Cal, you’d be bored,” she said. “Most of these are how I feel about the pregnancy. They’ve become more interesting lately though.”
“I bet. I mean they can’t be all that boring considering your pregnancy journal takes place in the middle of the apocalypse.”
“It could be worse, Cal.” She shut the journal, marking her spot with a pen. “We could be out there, lost, wandering, hiding… starving. Running for our lives.”
“Without electricity,” I added. “Yeah, we have quite the comfy apocalypse happening here.”
“Yes, we do.”
I rested my hand on her stomach, waiting to feel the baby move before I left. When I felt the thump against my fingers, I slowly sat up. “Well, I’ll let you finish and make us something to eat.”
“Thank you, I’ll be right out.”
I slipped from the bed and walked to the door and lingered there taking in the cool air for another moment. “Don’t be too long.”
“I won’t.”
I watched Leah open her journal and start writing again, I took that as my cue to leave.
Even though the world was dying around us, it was simple, calm and fear free in our home. I didn’t take a single moment for granted, not one, because I also knew in the back of my mind, it wasn’t going to last.
7
MARSHAL
September 3
We made it was far as Marshal, and I had to stop. It was during the drive that I realized newborns didn’t really cry, they screamed and Edward did that constantly. He was hungry, I was aware of the problem, but I was so afraid to stop to tend to him.
I took the exit to avoid the blockade. All signs about sanctuary cities or for any help were gone. I saw nothing to indicate I was even on a safe route. I contemplated going back to look to see if the highway was really blocked.
There were no hand-painted signs, and like other places, there were no flyers lying on the ground from being dumped out of a plane.
Then again, only larger metropolises were told when to go, the rest of the country wasn’t at risk of extermination.
Not by the government anyway.
What I did see were Vee. Groups of them, they didn’t just stagger the streets, there were times I saw them at a building trying to get in. This told me survivors were there inside. The Vee were only relentless like that when they knew there was something they wanted.