I came to a major intersection that had once been a local mecca of shops, stations, and restaurants. Everything was flattened. Cars all over the roadway and in the ditches—all smashed. A pack of dogs who had no doubt once been pets of the neighborhood now roamed the debris looking for food.
The once nicely manicured grass around the buildings and parking lot was already showing signs of neglect. I wondered how long it would take before nature fully reclaimed it all. Once again, I fought against the urge to try to answer that question, as it would only lead to endless idle speculation.
That intersection was only four miles from my sure-to-be-former workplace, and I had to go see. Without the familiar structures along the roadway I was so used to seeing every day, I had to double and triple check my bearings. Upon arrival at Ringwells, I had confirmation that I was no longer employed. Fifteen years of my existence had been snuffed out in an instant with a hiss and a thud.
I had been away from the bunker for more than two hours and was starting to feel like I was pushing my luck. It was a hot July day and ole Suzie had no AC, so I turned back toward the cool and comfort of the bunker. There would be plenty of time for more scouting in the days ahead.
The next day, I drove into the nearest town. The navigation turned out to be much more difficult there because the level of destruction was far more intense. City block after city block had been completely leveled.
Flattened cars littered the streets, making many of them impassable for the Mercedes. The stench of death was overpowering, and I had to resort to breathing through a cloth I had earlier doused with a coconut-scented sunscreen. The coconut was overpowering itself, but it at least masked the smell enough to keep me from getting nauseous.
The more densely populated an area had been, the more difficult it was to travel through. I had to rely on a compass to keep my bearings because many of the street signs had been crushed along with the surrounding structures and cars.
It took me nearly five hours to get to the outskirts of Orlando. That had normally been a thirty-minute ride. Not a single building larger than a toolshed was standing in all the ground I had covered. And most of them had been pinpoint flattened as well. Our visitors had been thorough in their destruction.
Had it not been for my neglect of the roof over my bunker and the surrounding brush, I would have been lying flattened in a pulverized concrete coffin. Sadness began to overtake my conscious thought. The area had been dealt a deadly blow and yet somehow I had survived. I turned and hurried back to the bunker and to the security it offered.
Chapter 7
* * *
The new day brought a decision to get more of my little survival empire in order. I buried the Kendalls’ dead cows, gathered the remaining, fenced them, and saw to it they had water. I picked a load of vegetables and did some mild weeding in the garden. Keeping myself busy was the only thing keeping me sane.
Several more days of local labor brought a desire to go all the way into the city. On my previous trips, I had begun to map the passable roadways. That strategy paid off by cutting my travel time down to two hours. As I made my way further into town, the level of destruction increased with the density of the structures. With the flat terrain, if I stood on top of a pile of rubble, I could see in all directions for miles. Only the occasional tree was left to add any vertical aspect to the city.
I was in amazement at how effective the alien weapons were. It was as if everything had been squished flat in place. I had also come across what appeared to be the partial remains of a fighter jet. The nose, canopy, and much of the fuselage looked as though it had hit a block wall and been pushed in like an accordion. I couldn’t fathom why it had not exploded and burned. It was as if it had been smacked from the sky and had fallen to the earth.
All the smart missiles in the world would’ve been useless against a weapon with that capability. The alien ships could stop a bullet before it reached their hulls. Our slow-moving inertial weapons technology wouldn’t stand a chance. And it hadn't.
I thought perhaps a high-power laser or maybe even a rail gun might have a shot. But good luck getting either of those close enough to be used. After all, the delivery platforms for those weapons were big and bulky, and there was no way you were sneaking up on anyone with an airborne laser on a plane the size of a 747... or with a Navy destroyer.
The more I thought about it, the more alone I felt. I wasn’t holding out much hope of any earthly military defending against the concussion weapons’ apparent destructive power. For whoever these attackers were, squashing us was probably like squashing bugs. There was no real threat of retaliation, retribution, or revenge.
I returned to my camp that evening with depression eating away at my will. The following morning, I went back to the garden. I had decided to go every other day to harvest whatever I could. Even if it rotted before it could be eaten, it was still worth gathering just to maintain my sanity.
As I squatted in a row of green beans, I noticed something moving over by the tree line. One of my cows then let out a lengthy bellow, and the chickens began squawking. Moments later, a huge stampede of rats began pouring out of the trees and into the pasture, hundreds and hundreds of them. They were everywhere. The cows kicked and stomped, and the chickens fluttered for the trees or fence posts. I sprinted back to my bunker.
It was a plague of rats, and they were probably going to eat everything in their path. I could only guess it might be the first of many such plagues, with the constant dominance of Man removed. After the rats, there would probably be cats, and after the cats there would be dogs. And all of these would most assuredly bring about a massive gator explosion, as small prey was their favorite food. I had already noticed an increase in the mosquito population, which would also bring about a growing bird empire along with the increased possibility of disease.
As I sat in my bunker, I could hear the rats skittering across my roof for what seemed like hours. Later that night, I could hear the howl of dogs in their chase. The plague of cats was most assuredly happening somewhere else, but it seemed the dogs were next in my little corner of the world.
I poked my head out of the bunker the next morning, expecting a pack of something to be sitting there waiting for me, but the scourge of rats and dogs had gone as quickly as it had come. After a bit of checking around, I made my way back to the garden to check on the damage. To my surprise, the cows had survived and were grazing as usual. And the chickens had also held their own, with what looked like only a pair having been caught and devoured.
The garden was a different story. The rats had stripped it of every ripe or nearly ripened tidbit. The plants themselves still looked good, so in several weeks I might again have fresh vegetables.
With the plagues subsided for the time being, I ventured back to what had been Orlando. As I reached downtown, I stopped at Lake Eola Park to have lunch. The fountain wasn’t working, but the small lake otherwise looked like it did any other day. Only there were no people, and the complete solitude in a place that had once been bustling... was eerie.
The swans and ducks happily paddled around. Birds and squirrels fluttered and hopped about in the few remaining downtown-area trees that bordered the lake. The band shell and the surrounding buildings were flat, like everywhere else, but the lake looked quiet and peaceful.
I checked my watch. It was noon, so I got out my cooler and fumbled for some food to quiet my growing hunger. That day it was an egg-and-green-bean sandwich, courtesy of the Kendalls’ pre-rat garden.
The taller buildings bordering the lake had been so compacted from above that they actually pushed the surrounding ground out and up from its previous position. As I surveyed the devastation and began thinking about my lunch, something caught my eye—movement in a nearby mound of pushed-up rubble.
I drew a pistol and began backing toward my car. I was in no mood to tangle with a pack of dogs at this point. They probably wouldn’t bother with me, but I was not willing to take the chance. I shove
d the cooler into the passenger seat, climbed in, and closed the door. My feeling of security returned.
Whatever had moved in the rubble was certainly worth investigating, but I was not going to check without the safety of the car. I drove Suzie down the sidewalk for a ways, trying to get a look around behind the mound, but I still couldn’t get a good view from my lower vantage point, so with no further visible threat, I decided I could once again abandon the safety of the car.
I left Suzie running just to give a little added noise cover and began to work my way slowly around the rubble. I continued to circle the debris until I saw something—or someone—attempting to hide.
It was a girl!
I was so excited at the thought of seeing another human being that I began waving my arms and shouting as I ran toward her.
The girl darted away and was followed closely by another. They moved quickly, and there was no way my shouting and waving was turning them around. So I hustled back to Suzie and headed their way. With all the flattened structures and trees, there were very few places to hide. As I drove in their direction, I saw them disappear into what was once someone’s well-manicured hedge.
I stopped Suzie just short of the hedge and got out. This time I was calm enough to avoid the excited arm-waving and able to speak in a reasonable tone. I would be trying to let them know I was not a threat. As I slowly walked around the hedge, I saw a large plastic dollhouse with the name Sparkles on it, situated in what was once the corner of someone’s back yard.
As I drew closer, a German Shepherd appeared in the dollhouse doorway. It stared me down and bared its teeth, which prompted me to stop my forward progress and to place my hand on my sidearm. I called to the girls to try to let them know I wanted to help. It took me several minutes of talking before I saw one of them move inside the dollhouse.
I could hear some quiet discussion, so I kept my calm and my distance. A few minutes later, a teenaged girl emerged from the doorway. She had ratty hair, disheveled clothes, and a dirty face. She stood looking at me suspiciously while one hand stroked the shepherd’s back.
I again told her I just wanted to help and that I too was alone in all this destruction. The other girl slowly emerged as well. The second girl looked to be about twelve and was obviously a younger version of the first. Somehow these two sisters had survived for more than a month on their own. No doubt their loyal German Shepherd had been there to help against any small dangers such as other animals.
I sat down and continued to converse in an effort to calm their fears. As I talked, I noticed a small pile of cereal boxes and cans not far from them. They had been resourceful enough to scavenge enough food to stay alive... so far. They were evidently survivors, and I respected that about them.
As I sat and talked, I couldn’t help but think about Renee and how these two girls would have been about the age of any kids Renee and I might have had. Those thoughts finally shut me up for a moment, drawing me deeper into thought of the past, giving the girls an opening to speak. They pointed out a nicely camouflaged tree house in what was once a neighbor’s backyard. It had been concealed enough to escape being flattened on that first evening and night of destruction.
Once again, the invaders had only targeted larger structures or vehicles, any obvious signs of Man. A summer night’s camp-out in the tree house had saved their lives. Their own parents were buried in the rubble of what had once been their house, only a few hundred feet away.
We spent almost an hour talking from the short distance before they felt comfortable enough to come over beside me. Their German Shepherd, Heinz, eyed me, regarding my every move and gesture with suspicion. It was a big dog and could no doubt take me down if so prompted, but I had no intention of giving it a reason. The older sister went by Rachel, although her first name was Caitlyn, the younger sister by Janie Lynn. I was extremely happy to meet them both.
Once they had come closer, it only took me a few minutes to realize they were on the thin side. Their pile of cereal boxes had likely been few and far between and certainly had not provided the full nutritional needs of the two.
I had food in the car, and the hunger in their faces showed their interest. I tried to travel with at least three days of rations in case old Suzie gave me trouble, so I had more than enough to share. They tore into the sandwiches I offered. I did all I could to try to get them to eat slowly.
By the time they had stuffed themselves, they were at ease around me. This in turn put Heinz at ease too. He was obviously a very loyal and usually docile and friendly pet. As a reward for his behavior, I opened a can of hash. I was on such a high after finding other survivors.
Our conversations continued, and eventually I invited them to come back to the bunker where food, water, and shelter were plentiful. After further talk, the girls, Heinz, and I climbed into Suzie and began our journey home.
I was excited at the thought of having some companions and of having some helpers. Survival, after all, did not come without a great deal of planning and manual labor. The girls had not bathed since the invasion started, and coupled with the smell of the dog, they had me riding the whole way back with the windows down. My coconut rag was again put to good use.
Most of the daily shortcuts we had previously taken for granted during life were no longer available. I dreaded the day, which would soon be upon us, when I no longer had my stash of toilet paper. I wasn’t sure if I would soon be using a handful of leaves or scooching my butt along on the ground. Neither option held any appeal. But the girls had somehow managed during their time alone, so I guessed I would have to one day man up and figure it out, too.
I had an air mattress and some spare bed linens in the bunker, and after I gave the girls a quick tour of my fortress and the immediate area, they each had a shower. I then gave each a pair of shorts with a drawstring and a T-shirt to sleep in. As they showered inside, I took Heinz down to the canal and gave him a good scrubbing, an event some dogs hate. He seemed to be one of the few who enjoyed the water. Once clean, he would be joining us indoors.
I fired up the washer-dryer so in the morning the girls would have their first clean set of clothes to wear in more than a month. Once they were situated on the air mattress, Heinz assumed his position on a nice, cool spot on the concrete floor beside them, and the three quickly drifted off to sleep.
My world had changed and with it my outlook. I now had reason to live other than just to be alive. I sat back in a chair with a smile. I was no longer the lone survivor.
Chapter 8
* * *
The girls slept until almost noon the next day. It was the first night in a month they had both security and comfort, and it showed. After our morning meal, we spent hours just talking about our lives before the attack. When they started to discuss their parents, they became sad and were each soon sobbing. I would guess this was the first chance they had to really think about what had happened. I attempted to comfort them with words, but with no experience in such things, I wasn’t sure if what I was doing was helping or not.
As the discussions continued, Rachel talked about how for the first two days, neither of them moved from under their sleeping bags in the tree house. They had a backpack with some snack food in it they had shared and several bottled waters. Part of their reasoning for not moving was they could not hear. They had been so close to the concussions that it was a miracle they were able to recover their hearing at all.
It was then when Janie Lynn revealed she still could not hear from her left ear. She had kept that little secret from her sister all that time and never complained. I had no medical training and didn’t know the first thing about one’s hearing, so I could not offer treatment or advice. I was lucky to get past getting the wax out of my own ears, and I sometimes did a poor job of that.
I felt so bad for these two sweet little girls and what they had been through on their own. It was different for me, as an adult without anyone close to lose. Sure, I had lamented Renee’s almost certain death, but I
had not been close to Renee for almost fifteen years; these girls had lost their parents while just a few hundred feet away. One couldn't help but feel guilty for being a survivor.
I began to wonder why I was selected to live while so many others weren’t. My life’s accomplishments certainly didn’t qualify me for any humanitarian awards. As I pondered further, I began to get the feeling that maybe, for me, this was a second chance at being a caring person, a normal person. I began feeling a real need to watch over the two girls.
It was at that moment I decided I was going to do whatever it took to care for and protect them for as long as I was able. I felt a rush at having a new purpose in life other than just surviving. I had not cared for anyone up close in a long time, and it felt good to once again have those emotions.
We spent the next month mostly at the bunker. I tried to teach them everything I could, and they were eager learners. Anything that kept us busy and passed the time seemed to really help with the anxiety we each had been having over our situation. Rachel took to Joanne’s garden, Janie Lynn to the chickens and cows, and Heinz to chasing off rats.
The new help freed up some time for me to work on our little fortress. In my foraging of the surrounding county, I had managed to find six more solar panels. It gave us enough electric power in the daytime to run almost everything we had at once. At night we switched to the hybrid battery pack and tried to conserve; it was mostly used for lighting and electronics.
I had a PC in the bunker along with the rest of my electronic equipment, and the girls spent many an hour during the evenings mastering the couple of games that were on it. It only had a CD player, but I didn’t have any DVDs or CDs other than the few games anyhow. I had a police scanner and weather radio that ran every evening also, just in case anyone out there was able to broadcast.
SODIUM Trilogy Part One Page 19
