by Rick Tippins
Jared authored a gear list, which included several things he would need to survive while traveling across California. He needed a water-purification pump, and light nonperishable foods he could carry. He would need a small tent, toothbrush, clothes, a bike…the list went on and on. Next Jared mapped out a strategy for obtaining the items on his list, possible locations, routes to and from, along with tactics he felt would afford him the best chance at getting what he needed without enduring another physical round of violence.
When he was done, the wall and half of another wall were covered in black marker. The tiny room looked like a cross between Jared’s work conference room at the start of a new project and the walls of a madman’s home. When he finished, Jared sat back, sore, swollen, and just gazed at his handiwork. It was the first feeling of accomplishment he had in what seemed like an eternity.
Chapter Eleven
Jared was a very practical man in his own environment, which was the electronic world. In the current world, not so much; he felt vulnerable, unsure what to do about his current situation, and more than a little scared. He glanced at the walls covered in all the information he would have usually have needed to make quick and decisive decisions in order to move forward. He sat trying to formulate a plan, thinking of ways, he could overcome what was happening.
Jared rose to his feet after a long, thoughtful, but ineffective thinking session and inventoried his food stores. He did this mindlessly and for no other reason than he hadn’t really come up with any hard and effective ideas about how to get through this thing that was happening. This was easier to think about and not that hard to come to the conclusion that he had about a week’s worth of food in his apartment if he stretched it, missed a couple of meals, and was careful not to overeat.
The water was still flowing, so he wasn’t overly concerned about hydration, but he had started to hear more gunfire, and the occasional scream had evolved into a more common occurrence. He heard a human cry for help about every hour now, and it chilled him to the bone as he sat huddled in his apartment, waiting, planning, but in the end really only wasting time and precious resources. He knew he had to get out of the populated area, and he was fast realizing he had to do it sooner than later, before society completely caved in on itself.
The following morning, day four since the event, Jared opened his front door, surveying the courtyard. He watched as a Mexican family who lived three doors down loaded their belongings onto a red Radio Flyer wagon, using twine to tie the load down like a miniature covered wagon from some old western flick. Jared cocked his head and watched, wondering where they planned on going with two toddlers and using what amounted to be a child’s play thing to haul their life belongings. It seemed absurd to him they would take the children out into the streets, until Jared noticed the father, with a large black pistol gripped firmly in his right hand. He looked determined to protect his family at all costs, willing to sacrifice anything for them, including his own life. Holy fucking shit, the guy has a gun right the fuck out in the open. Jared just stood there, mouth agape, watching the little family preparing the wagon.
People were getting desperate and it was only four days into basically what amounted to a power outage. How had society slipped so quickly into this abyss? Jared eyed the father, who was eyeing him back, pistol held low as he began pulling the wagon, quietly prodding his small family to follow closely. Jared caught the wife’s eye briefly; she looked scared, but not in the way Jared was scared. The mother looked scared and uncertain, as any mother would be with two small children; she was scared for her offspring, for their future, and for their safety.
“Where you guys headed?” Jared called out.
The father turned, walking backwards, pulling the wagon. “Mexico,” he replied, so matter of fact, Jared just stood there for a moment processing what the man just said.
“Mexico, with the kids, walking?”
“Yeah, walking,” the father said flatly.
“That’s like five hundred miles,” Jared said, his mouth hanging slightly open.
“Closer to six hundred where we’re headed,” the father returned as he swiveled back in the direction he was walking.
Jared watched as the doomed family slowly walked out of the courtyard, turned south, and disappeared from his view.
He knew it was time to go. If families were willing to drag wives and children across six hundred miles of land on foot, pulling a wagon with what they hoped would be enough to survive the arduous journey then he needed to get the hell out of this town and go someplace he could scratch out an existence. Jared stepped back inside his dim apartment and took a deep breath.
This was going to be extremely difficult and even more dangerous, but he was going to walk or ride a bike or pull a wagon to Florida where his parents lived. His plan was simple: Make contact with as few humans as possible. Find a sporting goods store, round out his gear list with a tent, water-purification system, and several other essentials Bob had insisted he would need in to not die.
Jared wore jeans, a cotton pullover shirt, and a pair of sneakers. The shoes were great for walking around town, going to and from work if he drove, but he found that the walk home from work had caused him quite a lot of foot pain and even a couple of blisters. He’d have to replace the shoes, along with the small North Face pack he had stuffed with food, water and extra clothes. The pack was small, like the pack a college student would use, had a ton of pockets, and was the only pack he had. Jared packed the evening prior under the light of a small candle he found under the bathroom sink. He planned on bringing everything he felt would assist him in his endeavor to procure lifesaving materials.
Jared left the small apartment, using side streets and staying off the main roadways for fear of contacting any more unsavory folks like the ones he encountered in the supermarket. He figured people he came across in the neighborhoods would more likely be holed up in their homes with their families. He wasn’t carrying much and didn’t think he would look like a target worth pursuing; still, he worried about being accosted again. Jared walked in the shadows as much as he could and, whenever he was forced to cross a large intersection, would wait and watch, trying to determine if anyone was out there watching the intersection, waiting to pounce on some unsuspecting traveler.
During these stress-filled exercises, Jared saw other people slinking along the sidewalks, heads turning this way and that, always looking for signs of danger. In just four and a half days—or was it five days, the days were starting to blend together at this point—the world had gone from a fairly safe and functioning place to a place where people walked around like deer, always on alert for danger.
Jared continued to avoid all human contact as he picked his way across town to the REI he knew held some of the answers to his needs. It took him three hours to travel what normally would have taken five minutes in a car and maybe half an hour on foot under normal conditions. He was committed to not being a victim again even if it meant skulking around in the shadows like a rat. His face was still swollen and sore to the touch, from the beating he had endured at the Safeway a few days before.
Once he was within sight of the store, Jared scanned the surrounding area, looking for a suitable spot to wait and watch without being seen. He decided to approach this problem like he would have at work; he’d solve it through thought and planning. This would become the norm; it would have to be the norm if he planned on surviving. Most new projects were driven by the latest technology, and Jared knew all too well that if the proper research was not done, his project could have a faulty component that would likely render the entire project useless. He would test, research, and then retest before ever committing to any new unproven piece of technology.
Jared used the same approach before he committed to entering this store; he would know everything there was to know about the building and anyone associated with the store. He failed to do this research at the supermarket and nearly paid with his life. He wouldn’t make that mistake tw
ice. Jared rationalized that most people would not think of REI as a place they needed to loot. The store wasn’t a place normal folks shopped for food, and REI wasn’t known for its sixty-inch televisions. He silently wished he came here days ago before people were as desperate as they’d become.
Jared settled on a low row of hedges across the street from the front of REI, where he had a fairly unobstructed view of the front and left side of the large structure. There were no doors on the left side, while the face of the building had a large roll-up door for deliveries as well as double glass front doors. Both entrances were closed, the interior was dark, and Jared could not see more than a few feet inside the darkened business.
He was using a small pair of binoculars he bought years earlier before going to watch a baseball game. They were cheap, had performed poorly at the baseball game, and were doing the same here today. Jared tried the finest of adjustments on the focus ring in a futile attempt to see deeper into the darkened store. The more he looked at the front doors, the more he thought the glass might be missing; he just couldn’t be one hundred percent sure. One thing was for sure: when he went into that store, he was taking a pair of binoculars, and they would be the most expensive ones he could find since he had little to no working knowledge of what qualified as good binoculars.
Jared lay in the hedgerow for an hour before making his way to the rear of the building, which took nearly an hour and a half. He had to keep telling himself not to cut corners, to slow down, not to just bolt across open areas, and to take his time because deliberate action would be his savior. If he was more patient than the other guy, he would avoid conflict or injury. Jared formulated a plan to climb the fence accessing the freeway, then move along the east side of the building, using the drainage ditch for cover. Once he reached the northeast corner of the building he would wait and watch some more before making his approach, which would be well after dark.
Jared wondered how many minutes of patience would translate into a non-beatdown shopping spree. As the sun began to dip into the west, Jared decided to move closer. He got to his feet, and scurried across the street before he broke into a sprint toward the northeast corner of the structure. When he reached the building, he dropped to his belly and laid in the weeds, watching, but nothing seemed to have changed. Jared laid there, panting and scared after having exposed himself in his dash across the open area, but as his heart slowed and he gradually caught his breath, he was half tempted to just get up and walk into the store, get the things he needed, and leave.
He ran his hand across his still swollen and sore face and quickly decided against that ill-advised tactic. He lay not ten feet from highway 101, which would have been a deafening place to be in days gone by, but now it was so absolutely quiet, it was downright spooky with the absence of all motorized vehicles.
Jared shifted his body on the hard ground and looked around his position, suddenly feeling very alone. He had been in the new hide site for about five minutes when he heard footsteps on the highway behind him. He froze before slowly turning his head, scanning for the approaching noise maker. Jared saw the culprits, a young couple in their early twenties and probably wearing the same clothes they had been clothed in the day of the event.
The woman was wearing sandals, jeans and a lightweight blouse, while the man was clothed in jeans and a T-shirt. They carried nothing and looked exhausted. Jared could tell the woman’s feet were deteriorating by the way she limped alongside her hipster man. The woman’s limp was further confirmation of his need for good shoes once he started his shopping spree. Jared made a mental note moving the procurement of shoes to the top of his list. He surveyed the couple, barely moving his head as they passed behind him, picking their way through the litany of cars marooned on the highway.
The two didn’t even have a water bottle, as far as Jared could see. He wondered where they had come from and where they were going and how long before some family pet was feasting on their dead bodies. Jared quickly pushed the thought out of his head. That was too close to home, thinking things like that, being they were all in the same mess, and he wasn’t much better off than the two miserable-looking souls passing him on the vehicle-littered highway. The couple passed without so much as a word spoken between them and never once glanced off the road in his direction, which Jared was thankful for.
As the day wore on, more and more people passed Jared on the highway. Some folks were by themselves, while others were in groups. Some appeared to be families, while it was apparent that others were most likely neighbors or co-workers.
One group that passed on the highway was the nefarious type. These people were not intent on where they were going, but instead went about looking into every stopped car. Occasionally they smashed a window and took an item they felt was of value to them. There were three of them, and Jared hardly breathed as they worked their way past his position. His heart beat so hard in his chest, he could almost hear it and half believed that if he glanced down, he would have seen puffs of dust emanating from under his pounding chest as he lay in the dirt. He could definitely feel it and almost moved his hand to his chest in an attempt to quell the rapid beating, but thought better of moving a muscle.
Eventually, the recalcitrant men moved on, taking their thieving endeavors south into Redwood City’s jurisdiction, not that there were jurisdictions any longer. Jared wondered if that word could just be erased from Webster’s dictionary, along with a whole lot of other words like law and order, police, firemen, and a list a mile long he didn’t even want to imagine.
Chapter Twelve
Later in the afternoon, the sun hung low on the horizon, elongating the shadows, seemingly stealing the heat from the air, eliciting a shiver from Jared’s overwrought frame. He saw hundreds of people pass on the highway that afternoon, the number growing as the day went on. The sun sank lower on the horizon and, as night approached, the number of travelers slowed to a trickle.
Nighttime travel is dangerous, but why is it dangerous? Jared wondered. If folks were traveling during daylight hours, wouldn’t it make sense for criminals to go out hunting during those times as well? Then everyone could sleep the night away and do it all over the following day, like that cartoon with the wolf and sheepdog. Jared pondered this, making a mental note to think more about the possibility of traveling at night in order to avoid roving gangs like the ones he’d been beaten by and the ones he’d seen breaking into all the stranded vehicles on the highway.
It suddenly dawned on him that the reason night had been dangerous in the past was due to criminals using the darkness to their advantage against detection from the cops. Now that the cops were gone, the darkness would only make acquiring victims more difficult due to reduced visibility and availability. Most people were still living life like they had before, staying off the streets at night and moving about in daylight. Apparently, the criminal element had already begun to adapt, coming out and hunting their prey in broad daylight. When it came to traveling, day was the new night.
There was just so much to think about; it was worse than any project he’d ever been a part of, mostly because failure to make the right move would likely result in injury or even death. Poor decisions related to a work project would, in a worst-case scenario, result in termination. That meant a three-month vacation, a severance package, and then a new job at a competitor’s business. It happened every single week, and the people in his industry were not afraid of quitting or even being fired, knowing they’d have a new job before their replacement unpacked. Jared knew people who had been fired, then given three years’ salary and sent on their way. These people usually left with some of the biggest smiles ever recorded.
Darkness finally blanketed the Bay Area, but still Jared lay in the grass, watching and listening. It seemed sound traveled even better at night after the event, or maybe the lack of night- vision caused his ears to work more efficiently, he didn’t know. Not one person had so much as entered the REI store’s parking lot, much less entered the store
itself during his observation exercise. This gave Jared a small dose of relief as he thought about being inside the store with no one watching his back. He had begun to make a new list of personal preferences in his life, like having an entire store to himself when he shopped.
Jared lay for a while longer, thinking about how lost and completely reliant on city, county, state and federal government assistance people had become. Yes, people had ravaged many of the stores where food could be found in abundance, yet here was a store that had nearly every essential item one could ever hope for in the current world situation, and not a soul had stopped or even peeked in the front windows.
Jared rose to his feet and scaled the fence, making his way along the northern wall towards the front doors. As he reached the doors, he realized they had not been broken out and that the glass doors stood completely ajar as if some employee knew people would need what was inside the store, leaving them open as a gesture of kindness to his or her fellow man or woman. Jared thought about the employee and wondered if the person had known the world was becoming a very hard place to survive in.
Had the person felt compelled to make it just a little easier on some poor soul? He wished he could shake the employee’s hand, knowing that had the doors been locked, he would have had to smash the glass. This act alone would have made dangerous and unnecessary noise, most likely sending out an invite to unwanted guests.
Jared had to avoid all human contact until he figured out how to defend himself properly. Jared had never been one to wallow in denial, but in light of current events, he was fast becoming a true blood realist. He was swiftly beginning to understand he sorely lacked any skills needed in dealing directly with hostiles. He’d never been a fighter, never fired a gun, and pretty much avoided any and all conflict both growing up and as an adult. Self-defense was certainly the elephant in the room, and he knew it had to be addressed sooner or later. In fact, he hadn’t even addressed it on the apartment wall back home, not because he was in denial, but because he hadn’t the slightest idea how to address it.
