With everything set, she gave some final instructions. “No talking unless absolutely necessary,” she reminded them. “You stick close to me unless I tell you otherwise. Dylan, I hold your hand, you hold your sister’s hand. Got it?”
“Uh huh,” he mumbled softly. “What about Dad? We can’t leave him behind.”
“He’s going to meet us there,” she lied. She didn’t want to get into the issue of their father’s passing right now. It would only slow them down and make things more difficult than they already were…for everyone. At the moment, she wasn’t even sure if she could put into words what had happened to him. She was still processing it herself.
“Going to meet us where?” Dylan pushed.
It was a good question.
“West…we’re heading west. We’ll go out the back and cut up the alley to the train tracks. We’ll start walking toward Aurora. We’ll walk during the night and hide during the day until we get far enough away from the city’s outskirts.”
“How’s Dad going to know where to find us,” Dylan persisted innocently..
“I want Daddy!” Violet suddenly blurted out.
“Shhhh…” her mother hushed her. “He’ll find us. But right now, we need to go. We’re losing valuable travel time. I need you two to be strong and brave right now. Think of this as an exciting adventure…a night hike,” she offered in her best attempt to make this horrible situation somehow appealing to the kids. It was something Chris was great at, and Kate smiled knowing that she was taking a page from his parenting playbook to get this done. He would have been proud of her – proud of all of them.
“Oooo…a night hike,” Violet whispered.
Dylan remained silent. Kate wondered if he had already guessed what had happened to his father, but she dared not press him on it.
“Okay,” she said, leading her children out of the basement and into the rear stairwell that exited to the alley, “we move fast until we’re on the tracks. We don’t stop for anyone or anything. Understand?”
“Yes,” the kids both replied dutifully.
“What about Felix?” Violet asked. The cat had followed them to the back door and was rubbing against Violet’s legs.
Kate took a deep breath, not really having considered what to do with their feline friend.
“We can’t just leave him behind,” Violet whimpered softly, picking the cat up and cradling him awkwardly in her arms.
“He can follow us,” Kate said. “But if he can’t keep up or strays during our hike, then he’s on his own. He’s a cat. He’ll have a better chance of surviving than…” she caught her self. “Well…he’ll have a good chance of surviving. Cats are good at catching mice and stuff, remember?”
Violet and Dylan both nodded silently, and Violet let Felix slip as delicately as a four-year-old could down onto the floor.
Then Kate took a moment to pull Dylan close and kiss his cheek. He was getting so tall. The top of his head already came up to her shoulders, and it wouldn’t be long before he matched her in height. Then she bent and lifted Violet. Her little girl clung to her, wrapping arms and legs around her tightly. Kate kissed her and squeezed her even more tightly to her.
“I’m kinda scared, Momma,” Violet hissed in her ear.
“Don’t be scared,” Kate whispered back. “Just do as I say and we’ll be alright.”
With that, Kate let her slip back down.
“Everybody ready?” she asked.
“Yes,” both the kids responded quietly.
“Everybody link up,” she said, taking Dylan’s hand in hers. She waited as Dylan got a good hold on Violet.
“Come on, Felix,” Violet whispered as they moved toward the building’s rear door. “You hang on tight to your sister,” she told Dylan. “That’s your only job right now; you hold onto me and your sister like you’ve never held onto anything before.”
She reached out with the hand that she was also using to hold the .38 and cracked the door, listening for any signs of people outside. She heard nothing. Even the sound of gunfire had dissipated. Felix was with them, nose poked eagerly through the open crack in the door, sniffing the air.
Kate took a couple deep breaths and gave a slight wiggle to ensure her pack was secured snuggly to her. Then she said, “Ready…set…go!” and shoved the door open, leading all that remained of value from her former life into the terrifyingly new world that awaited them.
BOOKS BY K.W. CALLAHAN
THE SYSTEMIC SERIES: DOWNFALL
THE SYSTEMIC SERIES: QUEST
THE SYSTEMIC SERIES: DESCENT
THE SYSTEMIC SERIES: FORSAKEN
THE SYSTEMIC SERIES: ASCENSION
AFTERMATH: PART I
AFTERMATH: PART II
AFTERMATH: PART III
THE M.O.D. FILES: THE CASE OF THE GUEST WHO STAYED OVER
THE M.O.D. FILES: THE CASE OF THE LINEN PRESSED GUEST
PALOS HEIGHTS
PANDEMIC DIARY: SHELTER IN PLACE
PANDEMIC DIARY: FLEE ON FOOT
PANDEMIC DIARY: PANDEMIC PIONEERS
K.W. CALLAHAN
PANDEMIC DIARY: FLEE ON FOOT
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual person living or dead, businesses, or events is entirely coincidental.
Text and image copyright © 2016 KW Callahan
All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Callahan, K.W.
Pandemic Diary: Flee on Foot / K.W. Callahan
ISBN:1-533-08974-4
PANDEMIC DIARY: FLEE ON FOOT
Monday, September 16 th
7:17 a.m.
My husband is dead, my home destroyed, my children cold and tired. I have no real expectation of any of us seeing tomorrow.
I’m writing from the confines of a dark, damp, and somewhat smelly culvert beside the train tracks somewhere in the far west suburbs of Chicago. I’m not even sure exactly WHERE we are since we’ve just been following the tracks for the last day and a half. Dylan and Violet are snuggled up, asleep beside me, exhausted from having walked most of the night.
It’s strange, I haven’t written in a diary since middle school, but I feel almost compelled to do so. I think I owe it to Chris to continue with a record of what has happened to our family since the appearance of the Su flu and the carnage left in its wake.
It’s been a gruelingly mind-numbing trek since we left home. God, it’s only been about 36 hours, yet is seems so much longer. I’d say we’ve traveled at least 20 miles, but I really have no idea. I’m not familiar with this part of Chicago, so any signs we see aren’t really helping me gauge our progress. It could be more than 20 miles – it feels like more – but it could be less.
I didn’t think that things could get much worse since our home was infiltrated by gun-toting outsiders and my loving husband killed in its defense, but I guess I was wrong. The kids have now come to the realization that Daddy isn’t going to meet up with us. I had to lie about his fate. I was afraid they wouldn’t come with me if they knew Daddy was dead. I still haven’t talked to them about it. We have enough to deal with. I’m not sure I can force myself to broach the subject yet. I don’t even feel like it’s real. I’m pretty sure Dylan already knows. I don’t think Violet does, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, I just have to focus on getting to tomorrow.
Yesterday, we slept during the day to keep out of sight of roving gangs like the one that destroyed our condo. Even then, it hasn’t worked. Early last night, we had paired up with a couple who were also using the tracks to try to escape the city. They seemed like decent people – Ben and Sarah were their names. I think we all felt better about linking up, hoping there’d be safety in numbers.
But our theory didn’t work out. Several hours after darkness fell, we encountered, or maybe I should say we were “confronted” or “accosted�
� by, another group of people. There were at least six of them; it was hard to get an exact count since it was dark. They demanded the supply packs we were carrying. When we refused, they threatened to take them by force. That was enough for me. I grabbed the kids and we bolted, taking shelter in the heavy overgrowth that lines the train tracks. Several of the people pursued us for a short distance, but once we were in the tree cover, I fired a couple shots from Chris’ .38 at them (well, not really AT them, but into the air) in hopes of scaring them off. Apparently it worked. They left us alone.
I have no idea what happened to Ben and Sarah. We hid for about an hour after the encounter, and when we went back to the tracks there was no sign of them. I don’t know if they are okay or not. I guess I probably never will.
We walked the rest of the night without incident. I had to carry Violet a lot of the way. She’s not making the transition to staying up all night and sleeping during the day very well. Actually, I guess none of us are. But at this point, it’s our only option. If what happened yesterday is any indication, it’s still just too darn dangerous to be out in broad daylight.
For right now, though, I’m just going to try to get some rest and pray that no one stumbles across us. I have to admit, I never thought I’d have to sleep in a gutter, let alone doing so with a loaded gun beside me.
Tuesday, September 17 th
6:53 p.m.
We just finished our dinner of peanut butter crackers, a half can of baked beans, and a shared bottle of water. We each got a single cookie for dessert. Now we’re just waiting for it to get dark so we can move again. Dylan is on watch duty. He likes serving as “scout” as he calls it. It’s an activity he enjoys and one that’s necessary. Violet is beside me sulking. She says she misses Daddy and Felix. I can’t force myself to tell her that Daddy is dead. And Felix (our neighbor’s cat who followed us from our condo building) recently departed our company after being chased away by a stray dog. I doubt we’ll ever see him again.
At this point, I’m just letting her cry it out.
I’m still not sure exactly where we should go – we just continue to head west. Everything happened so fast once things started falling apart. At first, the flu just seemed like another one of those faux emergencies that are constantly thrown at us, gets hyped insufferably, and is then allowed to disappear into the mainstream media nether-regions. This time, however, after several weeks, instead of fading quietly into oblivion, this crisis seems to have dismantled the whole of civilization. The sky actually DID fall, and nobody was prepared for it. Now millions (I guess more likely, BILLIONS) of people are dead or displaced.
So we find ourselves wandering aimlessly, refugees of the Su flu, hoping, praying that someone will save us. Our dwindling supplies, however, may force us to make some decisions for ourselves. I never realized how much a four and eight-year-old could consume. When you don’t have the kitchen cabinets or a refrigerator stocked full of food to placate them, you begin to realize just how ravenous these little beasts can be. And unlike adults, they have difficulty restraining their cravings and start to squabble incessantly with one another over the littlest bit of food.
Our current supply situation is bleak to say the least. I’m doing my best to ration what we have, but we’ve been going through our meager supplies so fast. I’m not eating much, giving most of my portions to the kids. I have trouble telling them no. Knowing that at some point in the near future I might have to watch them go hungry is something I don’t relish. It’s something I never thought I’d have to contemplate. Thank God that Chris had us pack these bug out bags before our condo was raided. I’m not sure what we’d have done without the supplies they contain.
Over the past couple of days, we’ve consumed eight of our bottled waters (thankfully it’s not been too hot) and just three packs of our ramen noodles. We’ve tried to avoid eating too many of the noodle packs because we have to use water to prepare them and they’re really salty. Their saltiness makes us thirsty, which in turn leads us to consume more of our valuable drinking water that we’re finding next to impossible to replace. We’ve also learned that ramen noodles soaked in luke-warm water (since we don’t have any cooking apparatus) are not all that appetizing (they’re semi crunchy…ugh). But they fill us up, and considering the circumstances, I guess I shouldn’t complain.
We’ve also eaten two of the small freezer bags of cereal, two similar-size bags of cookies, two cans of beans, one can of fruit, part of a box of crackers, and some of the container of peanut butter.
Here’s what we have left. I just took inventory before dinner.
8 bottles of waters
9 packs of ramen noodles
2 bags of cereal
2 bags of cookies
2 cans of baked beans (definitely not the kids’ favorite)
3 cans of fruit
1 container of corned beef
a partial box of crackers
a partial jar of peanut butter
I’m also down to just 15 rounds of ammunition for Chris’ .38 after firing the warning shots at those people the other night.
I feel bad about giving Chris such a hard time about writing in this journal. Now I realize why he did it. Not only was it a way to express the feelings he was having about what was going on around us without voicing his concerns outwardly, but looking back at the inventory lists he made in here, I realized he was also using it as a way to plan how to survive.
God, I wish he was here. He was so much better at this kind of stuff. I just wish he was here…period. I miss him terribly.
Wednesday, September 18 th
8:27 a.m.
I’m exhausted, but I’m still having trouble sleeping. My mind feels like it’s spinning in a million directions all at once, but none of the directions lead me anywhere except ahead straight down these godforsaken train tracks. In a way, I guess I should be thankful for the tracks. They allow us to travel at night without the aid of a flashlight. Light would certainly draw unwanted attention to us. We just stay between the rails and put one foot in front of the other.
I’ve been carrying Violet much of the way. That means poor Dylan has to carry the supply packs. He’s been good about it, but the additional loads both of us have to bear are slowing us down substantially. Frankly, I’m not sure that it really matters. We have no goal other than to make it out of the Chicagoland area. What happens after that is anyone’s guess.
None of us have been sleeping very well during the daylight hours. Random gunshots, people yelling, and constantly waking up to ensure that the holes where we’ve been sleeping haven’t been discovered means that when sleep DOES come, it’s inconsistent and broken. We all feel completely disgusting, not having bathed in almost a week. I thought it was bad back in the condo when we were only able to take occasional sponge baths and brush our teeth once a day. These memories seem almost heavenly compared to how I’m feeling now.
While I sit here writing, I’m watching Dylan sleep. He reminds me so much of his father. His hair, his facial features, his physique – they’re all Chris. Even the way he sleeps, on his side, looking so calm and peaceful, it’s just like his dad. It’s both wonderful and extremely difficult, this constant miniature reminder of my husband. But Dylan’s presence is somewhat calming, and I think it might be just enough to let me get some sleep. Guess I should give it a try. We’ve got another long night of walking ahead of us.
7:47 p.m.
The sun has set, but it’s still not dark enough to start walking yet. For dinner we ate another small bag of cereal, a can of fruit, some peanut butter crackers, a couple cookies, and shared a bottle of water. The only good thing about our dwindling supplies is that our packs are getting lighter. It helps, considering how often I have to carry Violet throughout the night.
The kids are holding up as well as can be expected. They’re certainly doing their best, like little troopers, but I’m starting to see the defeat in their eyes. Poor things. They didn’t sleep well today. There was a slight
chill in the air. It was a bitter reminder that fall will be here soon, and with it, colder temps. We need to find somewhere to settle down. Where that “somewhere” is, I have no idea. I guess the only other good thing about traveling at night, besides not meeting too many people, is that we are moving when the temperature is at its lowest.
We didn’t bring anything with us in the way of extra clothing, so we have nothing to combat the cold. We’re all in shorts and a T-shirts! We were so damn hot back in the condo with no air conditioning and us all being crammed together in that small living space that the last thing on our minds when we left was warmer clothing. Now I’m wishing we had some. I found a dingy blanket alongside the tracks yesterday morning that I picked up and stuffed inside my pack. It’s dirty, has several holes, and has a funky smell, but at this point, I’ll take it…I think we’ll ALL take it.
Thursday, September 19 th
6:58 a.m.
The Pandemic Diaries [Books 1-3] Page 13
