Dystopia Road, page 7
part #1 of Dystopia Road Series
So I realized George W Bush had nothing to do with the misery. I realized it was all of us. We've created a society where you are defined by the crap that you have and the car that you drive. And I also realized that the post-modernist feminism I was pushing, was just as much a part of the problem. We turned women into men, but not good men. Too many women measure themselves the same way men do, by how much crap they have. And the traditional women are no better. They measure themselves by how much crap their men can buy for them.
So, now I have to apologize for ranting. I guess my point in all of this is that if this disaster had stuck one hundred years ago, maybe even fifty years ago, life would have quickly returned to normal. Today, there is no chance.
A month ago when a family a few miles away was found dead, they were sitting in the living room. The mother, the father, and their two children. The father had succumbed to the virus. But he had done nothing to prepare his wife and children. So he was lying on the couch, dead. The mother, with no gas in the car, and no telephone, had apparently decided to just sit and wait for help to come. But it never did come.
I know you've had a rough few days, and you've had to kill men to survive. But this isn't anything. When you get to Idaho, and that might be a quiet ride, you'll find that you can't stay. Then you'll head back to Mississippi to your father and the rest of your family.
That is the trip that will test you. Because you will literally be all alone, or you'll have to fight like hell for every mile between wherever you are and home."
He laughed. "I may not know much, but I do know, I'm not going back to Mississippi. There's nothing there for me."
She did not respond with a laugh, rather a stern look. "You will. Everyone who is lost first goes home. You may leave there again, but I'm almost certain you will at some point have to go home.
A week passed and he was nearly back to normal. The bullet was still inside him, but the pain had greatly subsided. A restlessness started to overcome him, and we worried he was becoming a burden to Linda. When he broached the subject, he was certain she was honest in her reply. She wanted him to stay a little while longer.
The lights had stayed on and there had been no more trouble at night. On Saturday afternoon it was bright and warm, so they decided to drive into town and do some shopping.
The nearest grocery was more than thirty miles away, and it was surprisingly crowded. There was a decent amount of canned food, coffee and even cigarettes. There were no chips or pretzels, no fresh meet or chicken, and no butter or milk.
They loaded up two shopping carts. The prices were high, but not near as bad as gasoline. Two carts, mostly of canned and boxed foods came to over one thousand dollars. Linda figured before the problems the price would have been maybe four hundred.
On the way back they took a few side roads just to see some civilization and to pass the time talking.
On one road a string of cars, motorcycles, trucks and bicycles was moving slowly. When they reached the point of curiosity they both laughed in surprise. "A revival? Really?" Linda said.
He just shook his head. "I'm guessing this is an old fashioned end of the world, repent now rally. They were actually fairly common in the Deep South when I lived there. Three or four a year would meander through the counties preaching hellfire and passing the donation baskets."
"We should stop." Linda said.
"Really?" He asked. Genuinely surprised.
"Might as well. I want to be near people. I want to be in a crowd for an hour. I don't care what the preacher says. These people are decent people. They'll be friendly and it will do us some good to have more contact"
So they pulled in and parked into a brown field. The blue sky and the long grey road were the only natural colors to be seen. And though he'd been here several days, the lack of green gave everything an eerie feel.
The strangeness of the environment and the southern revival element added to his apprehension. "Have you ever been to one of these?" He asked Linda.
"Church? Sure, when I was a kid we went to church all the time."
"That's not what this is going to be like. These guys, a lot of them, are hustlers. The emotion gets really high. You have to guard your mind a bit. When he starts telling you that this is the end, and that it's going to get worse, it's hard to pull your mind away from it. It becomes mesmerizing."
"Do you want to stand near the back?" She asked.
"Yes. Way back."
With several hundred people, he thought being near the back would give them a quiet and somewhat concealed escape route. It did not. When the preacher walked up to the podium, he was just thirty feet away.
He expected to see a man in a dark suite. They always wore dark suits. But this man wore tan pants and a denim blue shirt. He was also not very old. Maybe thirty-five or a young looking forty. Brown hair with no grey, and wrinkles around the eyes, but not the mouth. He was also of average height and slender. Not the normal short and very stocky, or incredibly tall and thin as so many were in the Southern revivals. He approached the podium with his black bible at his side.
He placed the bible down, looked into the crowd and started.
"I'm sure many, if not most of you are new to this. My name is Steve, and I'm an evangelical Christian pastor. I have a home church, as many of you know, but I also travel around these badlands to bring church to people who would have to travel quite a ways.
It's good that there's no wind right?" He said with a knowing smile. "That means we don't need to hookup the batteries and the microphones. Can everyone hear me okay?"
The crowd nodded yes in unison.
"Okay great. Let's start with a prayer we all know, then we'll get to the money and passing the basket part, then I'll begin."
"I guess he's going to jump right in to collecting cash for Christ." Linda said.
He chuckled. "Yeah, that's a bit quick even for the preachers where I come from."
The preacher said the Our Father Prayer and everyone joined in. When he was finished he pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow.
"Lawd O' mercy it's a bit hot" He said in an obvious southern accent. Then he laughed. "Sorry, I couldn't resist playing into the stereotype a bit.
Look folks, we're not going to pass any basket. I don't want you to give me any money today. I'm fine. Hold on to your money and help your family and friends. That's the tithing the Lord can get really appreciate."
There were a few chuckles in the crowd.
"Now, know many, if not most or all, of you are here for answers. And, if you think this is the end of the world, one or two may be here because you've done some bad things and you're looking for salvation.
This is not the end of the world. And if you're a Christian, and you still think it is, why are you here? After the flood, even if you take the Bible completely literally, God says he won't destroy the world again.
This, in my guess, is probably just another time in history where man believed he was in control of everything, screwed it up, and we're paying a price. But we will get through this. Some of us will die. And probably all of you know someone who already has. And that is a tragedy.
But, the truth is, all of us knew someone who had died before this latest crisis of humanity. And some of us are going to die of things completely unrelated to it.
So our first order of business, is to realize, that life, for most of us, is going to continue. Adam and Eve found out in the Garden of Eden, that they were naked. Which, we were taught in seminary means they were vulnerable. And yes, you are vulnerable too. More so than a year ago maybe, but we've all been vulnerable since the day we were born.
So my mission today is to turn your hearts, and your minds back to God. And what I mean by that, is let's not contribute to the problem.
It's going to be very tempting for some of you to take advantage of weaknesses in your friends, neighbors, and perhaps your own families. So I won't task you with being good just yet. But while we are getting though this, let's first worry about not doing bad things. That will go a long way towards getting us back to normal."
The preacher continued for more than an hour. By the time he finished it was clear the crowd was getting restless.
He grabbed Linda by the hand. The first time he had ever done that, and said. "Let's get a move on."
They drove for a few minutes in silence. "Well that wasn't what I expected at all." Linda finally said.
"Yeah, neither did eye. But, I have to be honest, it was a pretty good message. I keep thinking about those marauders. I wonder if they were criminals to start with, and are just doing what they have always done. Or if they were fairly decent people, who cracked under the pressure."
"I don't know. But I feel better about things." Linda answered.
"Me too. Do you want to stop and get a cold soda? I could really use a cold Mountain Dew."
She laughed. "You don't ask for much in this world do you? A cold Mountain Dew is just about all you really need I think."
He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not a real complicated man. The funny thing is, I've always desired to be a complicated type of intellectual. But, Faulkner was never going to write a book about me."
"You might be wrong about that before this is all over." She said.
He bought two sodas and another three packs of cigarettes. Linda bought a Diet Coke. As they were walking out the door, the power went out again.
"Shit! Son of a bitch!"
It was the clerk who screamed. They both looked back to the counter and the old man was standing there with his head down shaking his head back and forth.
During the short drive back to Linda's house he finished the first bottle of Dew and smoked two cigarettes. The power was still out. He flipped on the radio as he pulled the truck around to the hidden area on the side of the house. The local station was off, and he could find no other stations that were broadcasting. That meant the power was out in a fairly wide area.
He stayed with Linda for six more weeks. A few weeks ago, a small convoy of National Guard trucks had stopped in front of the house and blasted an air horn. The walked cautiously towards the trucks and men in uniform. But they were just delivering food.
They lied and said that this was Linda's house, but he lived down the street to get two boxes. Linda lied and said she smoked, because they were also passing out cartons of cigarettes. She joked that the risk of lung cancer must have been cancelled out by the benefit of not having to deal with millions with withdrawal.
So far north, the end of August the temperature was already cooler than we had become accustomed to in Pennsylvania, much less Mississippi. The change in weather forced him to acknowledge it was time for a change in scenery.
"Well, the marauders seem to have disappeared. I think you'll be safe here." That was his best attempt at broaching the uncomfortable topic.
"I was safe before you got here." She answered with a soft smile. "I'm going to miss you, it's been great, but I know you have to go. If it doesn't work out in Idaho, and you're passing by on your way back home, stop in if you want to. If not, here's my phone number and address. When all of this settles down, drop me a line or give me a call and let me know you're okay."
They made one last trip to the house of the farmer up the road to fill his truck and the gas cans from an underground tank. They had to manually pump as the power never had come back on. He gave her a hug and drove away.
Chapter 5
Back and Forth
Three hours on the road passed without incident or fear. He was cruising quickly down a two lane road having decided to avoid the highways for a while, when he had to stand on his brake pedal.
A smallish black and white dog ran out in front of his car.
He jumped out of the front seat to see the dog lying in front of his truck. There was no blood and the dog's head was up and it was panting.
There was a small bark of acknowledgement, then the dog stood up and hobbled towards him. Its back leg must have been just clipped, but it didn't even appear to be broken.
He let out a small sigh of relief.
The dog was thin, but seemed in good spirits, for a dog. He looked around and saw a trailer home on the side of the road just down a short gravel driveway.
He walked towards the house and the dog followed. The front door was open and he looked through a screen door. "Hello."
He called. There was no answer. He walked to the back of the house. There was no one he could see. He went to the front again and knocked loudly. "Hello! I hit our dog with my truck. He's okay, I just wanted to let you know."
There was still no answer and he became aware of a foul smell. He looked down at the dog who was still at his heel. He thought about leaving, but patted the revolver in the holster on his right hip. He slowly opened the door.
"Hello. Everyone okay in here?"
He stepped one foot in and noticed a leg lying in the hallway. Startled, he took a step back. The person was probably dead. He wanted so much to leave, but couldn't get his legs to walk back to the truck. He was frozen.
He went back in. He passed a small kitchen to the left. Every cabinet door was open and the refrigerator door was open. We crept towards the legs in the hallway. "I'm just here to help."
When he reached the legs, he noticed that it was a lady. She was clearly dead, and had been for several days. He walked down the little hall and looked into the other two bedrooms. Both were empty.
He walked back to the living room. There were a few empty boxes of crackers and cereal. He turned to look into the kitchen. The cabinet under the sink was also open and he noticed another leg. This one, much smaller, protruded from the cabinet.
Slowly opening the door all the way open he saw a small girl shoved up into the back. She appeared to be dead as well. And then her head turned ever so slightly and her lips moved.
He jumped back quickly. Then regained his composure and pulled her by the legs out of the cabinet. He tried to shake her awake. She muttered something and her head lolled back to the side either unconscious or dead he did not know. She looked to be seven or eight years old, but it was difficult to tell because she was so thin.
Her hair was blonde, curly and dirty and there was a little blue hair clip hanging at the end of a small strand.
He grabbed her wrist but couldn’t find a pulse. He stuck two fingers under her jaw and felt a slight pulse.
He stood up and just looked down at her. He knew she didn't have long. Her breaths were very shallow and you could just make out that her tiny chest was rising.
He pulled the gun from his holster and checked to make sure it was loaded. He aimed it directly between her eyes. This girl was suffering, and he could think of no reason to let it continue.
"Muh." She made a sound. He quickly holstered the gun and bent his face close to hers. "Can you hear me?"
She opened one eye and then closed it again. Her lips smacked. He ran to the truck and pulled a bottle of water from the back seat and ran back in.
He dribbled the water into her mouth. She didn't seem to be swallowing. So he opened her mouth and poured more in.
She started choking and sat up. She coughed for a second or two, swallowed a sip of the water and fell back to the floor.
For several minutes he sat like this. Every minute or so he would put a capful of water in her mouth. She finally started swallowing.
Before long, nearly half the bottle of water was gone. But he knew she had probably only swallowed half of that. Color started to rise in her face. Not much, but noticeable. Her breathing also became deeper and more regular.
She opened her eyes and stared at him. They moved slowly around the room, then rested on him again. "Where's mommy?"
He didn't know what to say. As he struggled for an answer she said, "Oh, I forgot. She died."
He nodded his head yes. He gave her the water bottle and she took a big drink. It was all the sign he needed. He picked her up and carried her to the truck. He sat her in the back seat, moved a few boxes to the front seat and the bed so she could lay down. He found a box of raisins from the National Guard box and gave it to her.
By the time they made it back to Linda's house, she was talking.
"Well that was fast!" Linda said. She then saw movement in the backseat. "Oh. What happened?"
"I hit a dog, went to the house it was in front of and found her. She was alone. I don't think she's had anything to eat in days. She was unconscious when I found her. I have her some water and a box of raisins. Her name is Sara, the dog's name is Boo, and her mom died at least a few days ago.
That's about all I've gotten out of her."
Linda reached into the back seat to pull Sara out. "Oh my God."
"What?"
"She's so light." Linda put her in the back bedroom and covered her.
They sat down on the back patio and he lit a cigarette. "Did you ask her if she had any other family near?" Linda asked.
"I did. But she just shook her head no. I don't know if that means 'no', or if she just didn't know."
"It might be a few days before she's back to normal. I'll ask her then. Try to find out what her mom's name is, and her last name when I'm not around."
"Why?" He asked.
"Because, if she's all alone in this world, she doesn't need to know that. She needs to know, with all of her mind and body, that I'm really her aunt."
"You're her aunt?" He asked.
"Of course not you dumbass."
He laughed heartily. It was the first time he had laughed like this in a very long time. There were tears in the corners of his eyes. It had been so long since he'd had a friend who was comfortable enough to talk to him with such ease.
"I'm sorry." Linda said. "You have to remember, I grew up with brothers. That's how they always talk to each other. It's just important that the little girl believes she has a familial connection."
