by Lamb, Lynn
I put the leash on Hershey, our handsome Chocolate Lab, and started at the house next door on the left. Sadly, we had never spoken more than a hello to those people. If I recalled, they were an older couple with a quiet, small, white dog. We have never seen much activity from them, and assume that they owned other homes where they spent most of their time.
I walked down their long set of stairs, that matched our own. Like ours, many of the homes in our neighborhood sat on stilts on the hillside. We all used to have beautiful views of the bay until the trees in our forests grew so tall that we could only see the mostly clear, blue water from the street above our homes.
I took a deep breath, and actually felt that old shyness well up from my childhood as I knocked on the first door. Nothing. I tried the bell, forgetting that we had no electricity. Finally, I knocked one more time, not sure if they were just afraid to come to the door with everything going on, or they just were not home.
I left and tried the next house. Same problem. I guessed that I would be encountering this quite a lot today, and I was right.
Three houses down, I walked down the ramp and I finally found someone willing to open the door. I actually knew these neighbors. Well, at least we had had conversations on the street while walking the dog. I had almost forgotten their last names because we always just called them “The Architects”. The Richmond’s are both architects, and Jill opened the door wide and gave me a hug so hard I could barely breath.
“Thank God you came,” Jill burst out with. I was confused. Had she been waiting for me?
“Hi, Jill,” I just barely breathed out. Hershey jumped up, excited for the group hug.
“Let her go,” exclaimed Joseph, as he rolled to the door in his wheelchair. “Come in, come in.”
“Hershey, down boy,” I commanded.
Jill must be in her sixties. She is of sturdy build, with long grey hair and glasses. Joseph is about the same age, and if I recall, he has been in the wheelchair for around ten years. I am not even sure what put him there, but I would never come out and ask. I was raised with manners. Truth is, it doesn’t really matter.
I had never been inside their house before. There was a giant, floor to ceiling, bay window overlooking the whole bay. The trees had yet to obscure their view. I would be jealous if I hadn’t believed that none of us would be around to enjoy it soon enough. In fact, this house would probably come crashing down when the bombs hit, as would ours.
Jill had been inside our house several times asking to look in our yard for her lost cat. Every day for a month she would put up flyers and searched the neighborhood for her beloved sixteen year old cat. She was a very driven woman. Sadly, she never did find Bunny, the cat.
“I was thinking about coming to see you and your mother. How are you guys doing? We are a mess. I can’t reach my daughter in North Carolina. She must be so scared.” It was like she had been keeping in all of her fear, and with the sight of me she opened up the avalanche of worries she had built up and just let it all out.
“Stop, Woman! Let the girl tell us what she came here for! Please,” Joseph scolded.
“You’re right,” she said. “Come and have a seat.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking the proffered seat. Hershey came and settled in at my feet. I pet him as I spoke. I think petting him was a way of keeping myself calm. “Actually, I just went to the two houses between us and no one answered. I’m glad you did. I was getting ready to give up.”
“Well,” started Jill. “I know that the Kaufman’s are at their home in Chicago. He’s a pilot, as you know.” I actually didn’t know that, but, embarrassed, I just nodded my head and she proceeded. “I heard Chicago was wiped off the map, so I guess they won’t be coming back. Too bad, really. They are, were, such nice people.”
She stopped and I could read the sadness on her face. She was thinking of her daughter, I was sure of it. I reached out and patiently placed a hand on top of hers. A tear slid down her face.
“Anna and Stan are at home,” she went on. I think Anna is in a bad emotional state. That’s probably why they didn’t answer.”
“I thought that might be the case. They don’t know me from Adam, so I completely understand.” And I did. I don’t know that I would have opened the door to a stranger right now, either. I continued, “I thought it might be a good idea to take down some information about our neighbors, in case. You know…” I trailed off.
Understandingly, Jill shook her head, but Joseph took over. “What kind of information are you looking for?” He looked at me with a distrusting grimace.
“Joe,” Jill proclaimed. “Stop it.”
I went on, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “Well, things like, what you do for a living, what you might need in the upcoming days, what you might be willing to give to those who might be in need, that sort of thing.”
“Ah, huh! That’s exactly what I thought!” He said, as he raised a finger. “Can’t you see I am in this wheelchair? What do you think I can do for you?”
Before Jill had a chance to admonish him, I started to defend myself. “Like I said, I thought I could get a chance to find out what you might…”
He interrupted, “Sure you are.”
Jill stood up and looked him in the eye with anger. “Shut up, Joe. This instance! This thoughtful lady came here to help and all you are doing is yelling.”
Jill turned from her husband and continued. “Laura, why don’t I go around with you and see if I can help, too. This is really a great idea. We need to come together more than ever now.”
Jill grabbed her sweater, and blasted a dirty look at her husband who now bowed his head. I wasn’t sure if it was shame or just worry that he had angered his wife, but he turned and rolled away.
I was glad she had put an end to the conversation. My heart was beating hard. I have always cowered at confrontation.
We walked up the ramp to the street and Jill gestured at the bench in front of the house. “Now, let’s try again. What types of questions were you going to ask?
“Like I said, I thought first to ask about occupations, or maybe even hobbies people might have.”
“As you know, we are both architects. We built this very house.”
I looked at it admiringly and smiled. I continued, “Also, what types of things would you be willing to contribute to a community pool. I thought that, if enough of us survive,” I paused, waiting to see how she reacted. She nodded her head for me to go on. She knew the truth. I continued, “We could bring our resources together, at least at first.”
For the second time today, this woman who I barely knew pulled me into to a heartfelt hug. This time I submitted, with relief. I knew that we were no longer going to be strangers after today. It was a reassuring feeling.
We spoke for the next half hour. She threw out ideas and we brainstormed together. With the morning almost gone, I invited her to dinner tonight. I apologized that we had no way to get Joseph down the stairs to my house. “No bother. He has been in such a mood, since…” she stopped as if lost in thought.
It hadn’t occurred to me that Joseph’s surly attitude might be connected to his concern over his daughter. I felt badly for my first impression of him earlier. I couldn’t abandon my compassion for others at this time, either.
“Well, we will see you tonight and tomorrow we will hopefully have enough of a plan to continue with this neighborhood poll,” said Jill as we parted.
I walked Hershey down the street with the first real smile I have had since we had heard about the attacks.
July 14, 4:05 PM
When I got home, I told my mother and husband that I had invited Jill to dinner.
“Don’t you think that we should be saving as much of our food as we can, and not giving it out to strangers,” my mother asked.
Mark’s expression was of anger. Having been raised in Africa, one of 16 children and the son of a road side fruit vendor, he had been taught to give; no matter how little one had. He turned and began
hammering the wood we had purchased during one of our supply trips on to the window frame, but I could practically feel the steam coming from his ears.
After the last week and a half of this ordeal, we had begun to ready ourselves for whatever might come our way. Since the first day they began, as a matter of fact. There have been several types of attacks, so we just were not sure what to be ready for.
Okay, now it’s time to confess. I am an apocalypse book junkie. I have read every free e-book out there. From novel to survival guide, if it was free, I downloaded. Even with this in mind, and my small emergency stash, I had not readied us nearly enough.
This made me think of Bri and Ammie. Are they ready, do they have enough food and water? Will they have enough gas to make it here to their childhood home? I need to stop writing for a minute. My tears are rolling so hard that I can’t see and I am making my “diary” pages soggy.
A Few Minutes Later
Since there were reports of nuclear attacks in big cities, and chemical and missile attacks in the mid-west, we bought enough wood to cover our windows. My mother’s house is so big we had to rent a truck, the kind you use to move residences with, and as much wood, and of course supplies, as we thought would do the trick. That, we reasoned, would cover the windows in case blasts sent glass flying everywhere. It would also keep the light we might have from the lanterns in, so anyone outside looking for possible supplies would be unable to see inside.
But I still didn’t believe it would help enough to keep out radiation or biological chemicals. So, we purchased as many rolls of tarp and duct tape as the store would allow. There were not official store rationings at the beginning. I know that most shops had placed a limit on what you could purchase just a couple of days ago.
With information from the internet (when it was still up) we were buying things I never really thought about, like Potassium iodide pills for low levels of radiation. Although I have read all of those apocalyptic books, I guess I just looked at it as an interesting subject; a hobby. I never thought about it seriously enough. Why would anyone engage in a World War? It would certainly mean that there would be almost none of us left. I still don’t feel like it is happening. At some moments, I am so scared and at others I am light headed with adrenaline. Is this really happening? When will I wake from this? At night, before bed, I think that I might not wake ever again.
Look at the time! Jill will be here any minute now. Company is company, and I can’t be rude by not being ready.
July 14, 11:17 PM
Jill just left. Mark is walking her home now because it is so late. I am not worried about the curfew the city government enacted yesterday in anticipation of problems like those they are having back east. I have not seen or heard one police or military vehicle go through our neighborhood. It is if all officials have simply vanished.
When Jill arrived earlier she hugged Mom like she did with me earlier. Even though she had never met him, she did the same with Mark. And, as always, my husband was very understanding and let her take what she needed from him.
We ate outside. It was Mark’s “experimental,” dehydrated meat and if this is what we have to look forward to meal wise, we are in big trouble. It was so dry it took minutes chewing and breaking the meat down with saliva before we could actually swallow. The fog rolled in around the time we finished dinner, as it usually did this time of year, so we moved inside.
The light from the fireplace was sucked into the room with the wood and tarp over the windows. With wine in hand, we sat and talked to each other’s shadowed faces about the future. Jill began with her thoughts.
“I think what Laura did today was a good start. And the work you have done here in the house is fantastic. We have done some, but with Joe in the wheelchair, well, it’s not happening fast enough for me. But I am getting there.”
“Do you need some help,” Mark offered.
“I built that house with my own two hands. I know I can get it done.”
“I remember you out on the beams. I thought you were crazy, but you did it.” Mom contributed.
Mom was a bit out of her element with everything going on. She wanted to contribute, but she just didn’t know what. She took the back seat these past few weeks while I took us from store to store getting what I thought we needed. She protested when I begged her to get the very expensive ham radio set from craigslist, but she finally gave in. She became the financier of our big, nuclear bunker that we were creating in her home.
Hershey curled his somewhat big body on my lap and drank in the heat of the fireplace. If I didn’t know better, I think he was enjoying this all. We were all home way more than usual. Mark’s job at the school was put on indefinite leave, so even he was home during the days. If only I could be as clueless as my beloved Hershey about what was to come maybe my heart wouldn’t always be beating so hard all of the time.
Jill kept going, “I did, and even though that was a very long time ago, I know I can get the house ready. Well, as ready as it can be.”
“So, how can we bring the neighborhood together, and is it even worth trying?” I asked.
By the time Jill went home we had put a plan into place and were confident about what we were attempting. In the end, at least Jill was in it with us.
July 15, 4:06 AM
I can’t sleep. Everything is going through my mind right now. Mostly, I fear that our neighbors are going to be suspicious of Jill and me. But, in the end, we decided that we needed to get out there and hit as many houses as possible. Although reluctant, Jill finally acquiesced and said she will take our help with her house. And the best news of all, Mark is finally on board with the prep work. With his strength, we can’t go wrong. He is a natural leader.
Mark is snoring peacefully next to me, although I know that he also has had a lot of trouble sleeping since the war began. My husband’s life story is unbelievable, but that is why I fear people will not trust him in the days to come.
As I said, he is from Africa. After earning his Masters, he became a political refugee from his own country because he spoke out against an indifferent dictatorship. And yes, he is Muslim, a Sufi. He ended up in Japan when he escaped Sudan. In Japan he built a life for himself. He learned the language and got a great IT job. At over six foot and being a large African man, he was something of a phenomenon there and he even dabbled in acting. He met his ex online and eventually changed his country of citizenship, this time to the US. After 9/11 he actually joined the Army and went to Iraq. When he came home, he was transferred to Monterey to teach Arabic. He knew his marriage was over, and divorced.
I was on my break from work one day and stopped into the downtown coffee shop for a much needed jolt. A large man in uniform stepped behind me in line. The line was long, and I knew it was going to make me late, but I didn’t care. I needed it!
“Excuse me,” the stranger said.
“Yes,” I replied. I thought he was going to ask to go in front of me, which I would have said yes to. He was a soldier, and I appreciated his service. But that’s not what he asked.
“Are you single?”
Really, that was forward! This isn’t a bar, you know.
“Sorry, it’s just that you are beautiful, and I would like to take you out on a date.”
“Hmm, well,” I didn’t know what to say, so I flushed a deep shade of red and said, “yes”.
And now, seven years later, we have been experiencing relationships ups and downs, and we are now on the brink of nuclear annihilation, together. And I wouldn’t want to go through it with anyone else.
Okay, now I really am tired. I will try and get some sleep.
July 15, 1:10 PM
We did it! We collected twenty two homes worth of information. Yes, it was a long, emotional journey that sometimes brought me to tears. So many people don’t trust us. The war has made us distrust each other as much as we distrust the enemy.
But we did get some real good information.
Here is some of the informa
tion we gathered from the internet and got from our neighbors, as well:
1. Secure all windows and doors with wood. If you have no wood, use whatever you can find.
2. DO NOT leave the house for a minimum of one week, but two weeks if the blasts were bad.
3. Try and use your radio in limited ways. Conserve your batteries if you can.
4. Unplug your car batteries and carefully bring them into the house and place in a windowless room, if possible. This might keep it protected if an EMP (electro-magnetic pulse) should occur.
5. Secure all of your battery operated equipment in the same manner as your car battery.
6. If you have a walkie-talkie, place it on channel two.
7. Keep all of your emergency supplies close to the space you plan to occupy.
8. Keep a supply of your medications and prescription glasses close at hand.
9. And stay calm.
Another important thing we accomplished was to talk to the director of the local Lodge, Ed. I already forgot his last name. The Lodge is a one story building with a giant parking lot, a kitchen, offices and meeting rooms.
“Can we use your building if we need to and it’s still here,” I asked, bluntly. I had nothing to lose.
“I don’t care,” said Ed No-Last-Name. “I’m headed home to Seaside. No one is here now, and no one’s coming back, is my guess.”
Well, okay, Ed No-Last-Name. Thanks for your concern and cooperation.
July 15, 2:45 PM
Mom was again perched in front of the radio. We joined her when we heard something we had never heard before.
“Wait,” Mom said, as a steady high pitched beep emanated from what was now our only source of information. “Sometimes this channel goes out.” Wow, she was really getting good with the radio, or has it become an obsession?
We sat for one of the longest two minutes of my life. I started to feel light headed when I realized that I was holding my breath. I was lucky that I hadn’t passed out.
