by Dell, George
On their way through the city they had seen very few bodies. It had been unsettling to both of them. Fewer bodies meant more undead. They had both wondered aloud if the changing was happening that fast. Raising the dead faster as time slipped by. The bodies they had seen had not been killed by the Earthquakes. They bore head wounds, and appeared to have been dead for only a short period. Possibly only the last two or three days, they decided.
The bodies at the airport were concentrated around the terminal building. The huge glass windows were peppered with holes, and in some cases completely blown inward, as if a battle had taken place for the terminal. Most of the bodies inside were concentrated behind the long rows of seats in the main lobby, as if they had been trying to use the seats for cover. It had apparently done no good. They paused only briefly, wondering what had occurred before they moved on. The overwhelming stench in the shattered terminal building drove them out. The wrecked planes, where they had expected to see bodies scattered all around, were empty.
Occasionally they heard gunfire around them, and twice explosions from further north, behind them had startled them. They had hurried along fearing the sounds, but fearing more the possibility that the owners of the guns might find them. They walked in silence across the remainder of the shattered airfield, and they were both glad when they left it behind them and eventually came to 91. 91 was traffic packed and they made their way across the steel roof tops once more, crossing under 91 on South Central and making their way along the sides of the road to E Del Amo Boulevard.
Here, like the Martin Luther King Highway, black topped parking areas fronted all manner of fast food restaurants, store chains and shops, which bordered both sides of the strip. It wouldn't necessarily assure a way around the stalled traffic, Billy realized, but it appeared as though it would give them a much better chance of getting to 405.
Billy led them towards the rear garage area of the dealership, where they found a full size four wheel drive Chevy pickup. Billy had worked at a dealership before, and recognized the garage area as the prep shop.
“When someone buys a new car,” Billy said, “or truck, or whatever, they have to prep it. Take the plastic off the seats, fill the tank, wax it, sort of get it ready for the customer, you know?”
“I thought they came from the factory all ready to go?” Beth said.
“Well... they do, sort of,” Billy agreed, “but, they have plastic over the seats to protect them, and oil drips from the cars overhead on the transport trucks; dirt gets tracked into them when the guys move them around the lot. Sometimes they may have a scratch, or small dent that the body shop guys have to fix, and they get paint over-spray all over the car; dust in it, you name it. I used to have to prep cars, and it's not much fun. Minimum wage type of job and the salesman who sold the car is usually breathing down your neck all the time you're getting it ready. I hated it. I figured though, if we're going to find a truck all ready to go, this would be the first place to look. Gassed up and the whole nine yards. They even waxed it for us.” Billy finished, trying to break the somber mood that had set in as they crossed the airfield.
His effort worked partially, Beth offered him a small smile as she spoke. “You know a lot of things don't you?”
“Not really,” Billy said. “I just worked at a lot of different jobs. Mainly just to stay employed, but also, I guess, because I believe you should learn as much as you possibly can. It worked for me. I grew up with a lot of guys who were constantly unemployed. Maybe they were carpenters, or roofers, or auto mechanics, whatever. When things would get bad, they'd get laid off. Not that I never got laid off, I did, but if I got laid off I could go to work somewhere else fairly quickly. I can practically build a house from the ground up, and do all the rough and finish, electrical, plumbing, and carpentry. The same with cars. I just learn well I guess, and it paid off. Someday I'd like to build my own house.”
“I've always wanted to own a house,” Beth said, the tentative smile had grown wider as she listened to Billy talk. “I never thought I would live anywhere except that crummy apartment. If I never own a house I guess that would be fine with me, as long as I never have to live in that dump again.”
Billy was nodding his head as she finished speaking. “I know what you mean. I had a crummy little place in a little town in northern New York. I used to take all the overtime I could get, so I wouldn't have to go back to it too soon. I really hated it, I mean totally. I had this dream of buying some land and building my own house, when this is over that's what I would like to do. Just find a nice place and build a house. Maybe have some cows, I don't know much about cows, but I could learn. I guess that sounds kind of stupid, but it really is what I want to do, and if I make it through this in one piece, I'm going to.”
“It doesn't sound stupid to me at all,” Beth said, “in fact it sounds like a good plan, a good dream to hold on to. I've never really dared to dream. I guess you know that. I'm not making any excuses, and I'm not really ashamed of how I lived. I really didn't have many choices. It seems now though as if I do. I guess now it's okay to dream. You think?”
“I think so,” Billy agreed. “I mean if you can't dream, what's the use, right?” she nodded her head as if to say yes before Billy continued. “Like, I live my life, and you live your life. You believe what you want, and I'll believe what I want. You see?”
“I do,” Beth said. “I guess I'm sort of the same way. I always tried to live without hurting people. I was getting pretty bitter though, I have to admit. I just saw too much that didn't make any sense to me, and I could never understand why, if there was a God, he would let so much bad exist. I guess though, if people want it, it's going to be there. People thought I was bad, but I never really dared to look at myself. I guess I was bad, to a certain extent, but what was I supposed to do?” she seemed pensive.
“I had family, but... Well, you know.... I guess I don't want to get into that. Suffice to say I couldn't be with them. So I was on the street before you came to L.A. ... Before this last time, and I had to live. I prayed. I prayed a lot, but God never seemed to hear me. I guess I just gave up. I lost a lot of friends on the streets. It's sort of like a family, I don't know if you can understand that, or not, but it is. We all tried to watch out for one another, but it didn't always help. When you live your life that way, you can't expect to get any help from the cops either. I guess I just tried to stay alive from day to day.” She laughed, “And it was all about to change... I didn't see you, but they gave me the job singing.” She had lost her smile as she spoke, replacing it with a wistful pursing of her lips and a sadness that sat deeply within her eyes.
Billy nodded his head and they both fell silent for a few seconds.
“Beth,” Billy said. “It really doesn't matter anymore. I'm the last guy who would ever think of judging you. Believe me. I've screwed my life up so many times it's not funny. As far as I'm concerned what you did, you had to do. It doesn't make you a bad person at all, and it doesn't have any bearing on who you are now. I mean that sincerely.”
Now it was her turn to nod her head. She hadn't realized it, but his opinion mattered to her, and what he said allowed the small smile to re-surface on her face. She had told herself that she didn't care what he thought about her, but she knew even as she told herself that, that she was wrong. It did matter. It mattered a great deal.
They walked together to the back of the garage, and pushed up the steel overhead door. It took a few minutes to move a couple of the cars out of the way, so that they could drive the pickup out of the garage and into the lot behind the dealership.
Billy drove the truck across the grassy back lot, and stopped at the rear of a gas station to look for a state map. Beth followed him into the deserted station.
She filled a paper bag with some groceries, mostly canned goods, while Billy opened the map and studied it on the counter at the front of the station.
“Looks like the best way out,” Billy said, “Is still going to be 91. We passed it,
we'll have to back track to catch it. We should be able to skirt around most of the traffic, shouldn't we?”
“Believe it or not, I don't really know,” Beth answered. “I mean I live here, or did, but I didn't get out of the city at all, or hardly ever, so I don't know what its’ like.”
She paused and looked at Billy as he bent over the map. He smiled as he spoke.
“I actually understand that,” he said. “I didn't really know a lot about getting around outside of Watertown. I guess you learn how to get to the places you need to get to, and that's about it. No real big deal though. According to the map there are a lot of loops, sort of side roads that go around, and run parallel to 91, and hey, we've got four wheel drive, we can cut through the fields if we have to, right? That will get us to 10 and ten is our ticket east.”
Beth shrugged her shoulders, as she replied. “I guess?” The attempt at humor was not lost on her, and she flashed a smile at him as she shrugged her shoulders again. “I guess if the cows don't mind.”
Billy grinned back, and they both laughed a little as they walked back out to the truck.
“You know,” Billy said as they climbed into the cab of the truck. “We should stop and pick up a couple of sleeping bags, and maybe a tent too. We still need to pick up a couple more rifles too.” He didn't want to alarm her, or make her start to worry, by bringing the subject up once more, but the truth was that he was fairly worried himself. If there were armed people running around killing whoever they chose too, it would be kind of stupid, he thought, not to have better weapons. Beth had the pistol, and her rifle. Billy had his own pistol and a rifle, but he wasn't sure it would do a lot of good. He wasn't a good shot. She surprised him when she not only agreed, but didn't seem to lose her smile when she did.
“I think it would be stupid not to stock up on whatever we can, guns included,” she said, echoing Billy's thoughts. “You know much about them?”
“Not really,” Billy confessed, “I've never even shot a rifle, you know, just never learned, I guess, or even wanted to. I think I could learn though. You know anything about them?”
“Well, now that you mention it, I do. At least a little. Not from shooting one, but more from seeing them. There are a lot of pawn shops on Beechwood, sort of goes with the territory, I guess. That's where I got this,” she said, holding up her small pistol, “I got the rifle from a smashed in pawn shop... The has to be a pawn shop or sporting goods shop out here somewhere.” Almost as she spoke Billy spotted one across the crowded interstate.
“There is one,” Billy said as he pointed.
They left the truck beside the stalled traffic, and walked through and around the cars to the large shop. They spent the better part of the afternoon outfitting themselves from the racks in the shop and carrying what they needed across the road to the truck. The pickup had a black vinyl bed cover. They opened it, stored the tent and the sleeping bags along with the other camping gear inside it, and then snapped the cover back into place.
“It probably won't keep everything totally dry,” Billy said, “if it rains, I mean. This is kind of more for show than actual protection,” he said indicating the cover. “But it should still do all right.”
They had both picked up weapons in the shop. Billy had picked out a deer rifle, a fairly impressive looking Remington. He had also picked up several boxes of the ammunition the rifle took. Beth had settled on an entirely different sort of weapon. It looked more like a machine gun of some sort to Billy, and she also picked up several boxes of ammunition for it, and several spare clips. She explained to him that it really wasn't a rifle, but a machine pistol, and that it could fire better than seventy rounds a second if it were converted to full automatic. This one wasn't, she said, but she had seen some that were. To Billy it still looked like a machine gun, and he joked that the sight of it alone would probably scare anyone off.
By the time they had loaded the truck and gotten under way it was late afternoon. Even with the late start, and the slow going due to the stalled traffic, they managed to make it to the Colorado River in Ehrenberg Arizona just before nightfall.
The country had been turning more arid as they drove, the river was a oasis. Off to the north giant plumes of smoke blanketed the sky, seeming to spread across the entire length of the horizon. They had both wondered what it might be. Beth had checked the map and she though it could be Yellowstone or something close to Yellowstone.
Shops, stores, and even an RV park had sprung up around the interchange. They foraged for food in the late afternoon and gassed up the truck before evening began to take the sunlight. The air had a bitter hot smell to it, the river flowed sluggishly, the water gray, and a scum of yellow white foam and ash rode the slow current. They sat in the truck and ate quietly while the map lay open across their legs and the seat top. Their eyes would drop to the map and then jump back up to scan the area. It had seemed too quiet, and there were no bodies anywhere. No sign of life either, and the stores and shops had not been looted. Some were still locked up. Empty RV's in the park when they rolled slowly through it. Neither liked the feeling, the whole place just felt wrong.
“Billy,” Beth waited until his eyes left the map and met her own. He lifted them to follow her own gaze. “The silver building over to the right. The door just opened and then closed.”
Billy frowned. “Not something the dead would do, is it?”
“We didn't think they would use sledge hammers either, or come out in the daylight,” Beth said.
As billy watched he saw the door edge open slightly and then close just as slowly. “Saw it... I don't like it. Dead or alive they know we're here and they're checking us out.” He dropped his eyes back to the map.
“Okay,” he said after a few moments. “Lets get back on the road. That takes us away from civilization to a degree. Eventually that will bring us into Arizona, but there's a lot of desolation between here and there, at least on the map.”
“Desolation is fine as long as the dead aren't there.” Beth said quietly.
“Less likely to be,” Billy agreed.
A few minutes later they were running through the desert that ran alongside I 10. There were not a great many cars or trucks there, but in several places there had been wrecks that closed lanes down. With no one to clear them they would have ended up in the desert anyway. And there seemed to be a dirt road that ran beside I 10 for as far as they could see.
The landscape in the distance had been changing as they drove the day away, but with the sun setting a few hours after they set out once more it was hard to tell what the surrounding countryside was like. Billy dropped speed and flicked the trucks high beams on. A short while later Beth was sleeping, her head heavy against Billy's arm. He drove through the night and into the early morning before she woke again.
Watertown New York
Mike Collins' Journal
March 13th
Man, it’s been a long day. We walked out to Washington Street to where the car dealerships are. Everything’s torn up out there, but there are tons or cars and trucks. We found three trucks that we got running, and we drove them back. So we have a pickup truck, a suburban and a big four door state truck, one of those you always used to see along the highway when they were doing road repair. There were a few others we found that also ran, but they were in such bad shape that we left them.
Tom wanted to build one. I mean take one of the new trucks and put old parts on it. I got the idea from Bob that it probably wouldn’t work out the way Tom thought that it would. The right parts would be hard to find. I could see the idea, the appeal of a newer vehicle so we wouldn’t have to be concerned about break downs, but I could see Bob’s point of view too. I think it pissed Tom off though, but it seems that almost everything pisses Tom off.
I didn’t write this in here yet, but Candace and I are together. It just happened that fast. I was surprised in a way, but in another way I wasn’t all that surprised. Who knows how long this world will last, what it was that real
ly happened? Maybe there is no time for slow anymore.
Candace said that, and once I thought about it, I agreed. Things are so different. And she’s right for me. Maybe it wouldn’t have happened this fast in the old world. Maybe it wouldn’t have happened at all, but everything’s changed. It’s all different, and this seems right. It seems like the way it should have happened with her and me, the right way for it all to work.
It also seemed to work out for the others as well. By that I mean Tom ended up with Lydia. She’s a lot younger than he is, but like I said, it’s a different world now. They seem to be happy together. I thought I felt some animosity from both of them at first, but either I imagined it, or they’ve moved past it, gotten over it, something like that.
We haven’t discussed leaving again. It’ll come up. Candace and I want to go. I think Bob and Jan want to go too. Tom and Lydia seem to be against it. Lydia keeps talking about how none of us know what it might be like anywhere else, like she wants to throw that out before we even discuss leaving at all. Here we have food, shelter, what’s so bad? I guess we have been talking about it without really talking about it at all.
Tom backs up everything she says with a nod of his head. He pointed out we’re in an area of mainly limestone, that’s what made this cave, and we may not find that anywhere else. At least not easily. Maybe they’re right. Hell, they make sense, but it’s the attitude. The rest of us bend. They refuse to.
We decided to go out to Arsenal Street tomorrow to the sporting goods store, and also look at some super markets out there, something else I didn’t check out while I was out there.
Lastly, I’m glad Candace and I have each other. It makes all of this easier to deal with.
She asked me why I’m writing this journal. I felt kind of stupid. I told her why I started it though, and that I’m continuing it for someone in the future. Maybe a child? Someone to come later on?
I expected her to laugh that off, or look at me like I was crazy, but she only nodded as if that made perfectly good sense. She told me she has a journal too. A diary, she said. Of course Lydia jumped on that as well. At first arguing against it, then saying she thought it might be okay. Tom said he wouldn’t do it. He said he’s not leaving to go anywhere and if someone shows up here, he’ll be here, not some journal. Okay.
