“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.
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 them 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.