I hated leaving them, since in this new world I’m never sure if I’ll ever see them again, but I felt I needed to know what was happening outside. I don’t want to get caught in another Chicago type situation.
So I headed outside, Dylan locking the back door behind me when I left. I stuck to the alley that runs between our block of homes and the ones behind us. It gave me more cover than using the street out front. I walked for several blocks toward the center of town and stopped near where the alley met with a cross street just before route 46. There, I saw a pickup truck turn off the highway and onto Main Street, only about a block from where I was crouched watching. The pickup’s bed appeared to be loaded with supplies. I decided to follow it – cautiously. I checked for signs of any other vehicles and then darted as quickly as I could across the open two-lane highway. Once across, I followed the direction I’d seen the pickup travel until I neared the town’s square, which is built around a towering, three-story courthouse complete with massive clock dome. I snuck closer until I could see a number of vehicles parked on Main Street in front of the courthouse. People were clustered around the vehicles. Most were pickup trucks, their beds full of supplies, their rear tailgates open. From what I could tell, it looked as though the people were conducting a sort of open-air market, which I took as a good sign. I hoped that people who were civilized enough to conduct commerce in this way – rather than just stealing things as they had in Chicago – would be civilized enough to accept the appearance of outsiders.
I watched from afar for about five minutes. During that time, I saw a few more vehicles arrive from different directions around town. There were about a dozen vehicles and maybe 20 people there at one point, which surprised me considering the quiet nature of the town I’d observed so far.
I know it was probably stupid, but I decided to make my presence known. To cut a few pages off my entry here (since my hand is starting to cramp up a little), let’s just say the townspeople weren’t exactly thrilled to see me. In fact, they quickly took me into custody, put on surgical masks, and ushered me off to an empty building – a quarantine unit of sorts I guess. There were three men – I guess they’re kind of like the leaders here – that inspected me and took my temperature. They were abrupt and kind of gruff at first (I can’t say I blame them), but as soon as they realized I wasn’t infected with the flu, they became more amicable. They questioned me for a while regarding my post-flu history and seemed satisfied with my answers. I decided not to mention the kids right away since I still wasn’t positive about just where the situation was headed. But rather than something to be feared, I think I quickly became more of a curiosity to my interrogators. They allowed me out of “quarantine” and back to the marketplace. There, the people seemed quite friendly and wanted to know all about where I’d come from and how I’d ended up in Spencer.
And so I told them. I didn’t think it’d hurt. If anything, I think it helped. I guess there has been very little news from areas outside the county over the past few weeks. The people said they were hit extremely hard by the flu and have recently had some dangerous outsiders come through on scavenging raids. The townspeople have stuck close to home since then for fear of losing their stockpile of goods.
I explained to them that I’d come from Chicago and how it was a complete mess up there. They told me that they’d heard similar stories about Indianapolis, and I confirmed what they’d heard was correct. I then told them about what had happened at our condo, that my husband had been killed trying to defend our home, and how I’d found the train and had ridden it south and ended up here.
I didn’t think there would be any harm in mentioning the train. Hopefully I won’t need it anymore.
One of the older men who seemed to be in charge – Gerald was his name – explained that the citizens of Spencer and surrounding Owen County had been decimated by the flu. He said that of the town’s population of around 2,200 residents, only about 44 (most of whom were at the market that day) had survived. He went on to say that the reason for this horrendously poor survival rate was two-fold. First, there were no major medical facilities in Spencer. The closest hospital was in Bloomington, about a 25-minute drive away. It wasn’t far, but the facilities there were quickly overwhelmed in the early stages of the flu. And Spencer, being a small community, didn’t exactly rank high on the state’s list of areas to send what little assistance they had available. More major urban areas like Indianapolis, Fort Wayne, Gary, Evansville, Terre Haute, Lafayette, and Bloomington got the most attention. The lack of outside support meant that Spencer was left largely on its own to fight the flu. This was the second reason it was so hard hit. Rather than sticking to themselves, the tighter-knit community banded together in their time of need. Before it became evident just how deadly the virus was, a makeshift triage facility of sorts was created at the high school. The gymnasium was used to house the sick, many of the healthy lending their support to come and care for those who couldn’t care for themselves. While their hearts were in the right place, this only led to quicker and more widespread infection throughout the community. Many of the family members or friends the infected came into contact with or lived with were infected as well, and the contagion spread rapidly. Soon, only a small portion of the town remained healthy, and by then, it was too late. It was only the people who lived alone or had little interaction with the community who remained healthy, and even then, many of these residents eventually got sick when they went out for supplies.
It was a heartbreaking story he related, and by the time he was done, much if not all of the crowd gathered on the square was in tears…including me.
Gerald then went on to explain that once they were sure the flu had passed, the few remaining survivors decided to move from their various homes sprinkled around town into buildings on the square. The structures around the square were mostly brick and several stories tall which made them good spots to watch out over the rest of the town. These characteristics also made the structures easier to defend against outsiders potentially looking to plunder the town, and the square provided residents with a place where they could reside in relative privacy yet in close proximity to one another.
The remaining survivors now spent most of their time guarding the town against roaming groups of scavengers and collecting supplies from around the town to bring to the town’s square. Each Saturday, a farmers market of sorts was held so that the few people still living in the farther reaches of the county could come and barter for the things they needed.
One of the men I was introduced to while there – Hank – used to work on trains. When I mentioned that our engine was still sitting idle (as far as I knew) up the line (which runs through the center of town, passing about 50 yards from the courthouse), he perked up. I explained that it still had plenty of fuel when I left it several days ago. He said that he and a couple of the others would go check it out later and bring it into town if it was still running. The engine, he explained, could serve as a valuable source of fuel and energy as well as transportation for hauling large amounts of supplies from around town back to the square.
Once everyone had a chance to get to know me, they all seemed pretty comfortable, and vice versa. Gerald offered me some biscuits and gravy for breakfast, an offer that I accepted. Upon finding out where I was currently living, he also offered me a spot in one of the buildings on the square with the condition that I’d have to work with the others collecting supplies to pay for my room and board. I thanked him for the offer and told him I’d consider it.
After meeting more of the group (I can’t remember most of their names), and being barraged with questions from people who have gone without news from the outside world for far too long, they provided me with some canned food as a welcome gift, and we parted ways. Before I left, Gerald told me that they use the courthouse as a central meeting place and someone is there most of the time during daylight hours if I need anything or just wanted to stop in to say hello.
Overall, it was a very p
ositive experience. They weren’t too pushy about me joining their community (which makes me want to join it more), and most importantly, they didn’t appear dangerous. It gives me hope that there might be a future here. I didn’t see any children at the market, but I guess that doesn’t mean there aren’t any. It’d be nice if there were some kids for Dylan and Violet to play with and maybe eventually go to school with.
But enough writing for now.
Oh, one last thing. I noticed I was getting some lingering stares from a couple of the younger men. The number of men definitely outweighed women at the market. I think I saw two somewhat attractive (and I use the word “attractive” loosely) birthing-age woman while I was there. They weren’t nearly as friendly, and I think one was giving me the evil eye. Probably worried I’ll be moving in on her turf. With pickings apparently slim in ol’ Spencer these days, I guess I’ll have to watch my step when it comes to BOTH sexes.
Maybe once they find out I have two kids, those men I caught eyeing me won’t be quite so interested.
Sunday, September 29 th
8:42 p.m.
Oooo, I drank almost an entire bottle of wine I found in one of the kitchen cabinets. I’m a bit toasted but feeling good.
Today was a “rest-and-recover” day. We mostly just lounged around the house, took a nice long afternoon nap, read, played with some toys, and took it easy.
This evening after dinner, we played a few board games. It was nice but tough at the same time. It reminded me of the family game nights we had during the flu when we were stuck inside the condo. A lot of memories and emotions all came flowing back. At one point, I had to excuse myself for a pretend bathroom break during a game of Sorry just to have a good cry for a few minutes.
This is all hard…very, very hard.
Monday, September 30 th
8:29 a.m.
I’m sitting here in the kitchen waiting for the kids to finish their breakfast – dry cereal. In the few minutes I have left until they’re done, I’ll write about the decision I made last night.
We need to try to integrate ourselves into what remains of this community. We can’t just hide in our big house. While I’m still not 100 percent certain that the people here are well-intentioned, from all outward indications, they seem like decent individuals. At some point, we’re going to have to establish contact with a community of some sort if we have hopes of surviving in a fashion that has any similarities to our previous lives. So once the kids are done eating, we’re going to walk over to the courthouse and take them up on their offer to move to one of the buildings on the square. I think it will be safer there. While we have our dream house here, with its sprawling floor plan and big picture windows, it’s not the most secure of settings. And I have no one else to help me protect the place. Should bad people like the ones Gerald mentioned get into the town, they might stumble across us here, and then we’d be in a world of hurt. At least on the square, we have other people to help protect us.
It’s the best decision I can see moving forward to pair our safety and security with some semblance of a normal life. I have no illusions that the world will ever be like it used to be, but the closer we can get to living in a community again, the better I think it will be for all of us, especially the kids. I think they could use the human interaction and the grounding that a regular schedule and secure living environment provide.
4:44 p.m.
Okay, I need to write all this stuff down before I forget. There was a lot to absorb and try to remember today.
So this morning, I woke up early, got dressed, made breakfast, and then walked in to town – more specifically, to the town square. This time, I took the kids with me. I thought it was safe enough. I took the .38 too. Sadly, in this new world, it’s becoming a constant traveling companion. I never EVER thought I’d have to carry a gun. I hate guns. Well…I USED to hate guns. Now I take comfort in having one. Boy, that’s something I never thought I’d say…write…feel…whatever.
There were several new additions to the square that weren’t there yesterday – most noticeably, my freight train. It was parked on the tracks that run through the square and beside the courthouse. There were also several new street blockades formed from vehicles that had been strategically positioned to block vehicular access from the four corners of the square.
The people here seem to work fast. I guess they have to in order to survive. Speaking of work, that was one of the main reasons for our trip to the square this morning. I wanted to find out more about how things were being handled here, like what sorts of job assignments were doled out, to whom, and what I could do to help.
We got to the courthouse just after eight. It was chilly – I’d say somewhere in the lower 40s. Inside, I found Gerald (who I estimate to be in his mid to late 50s). He was talking with several people. There was Bud and Fred (who I’d say were in their mid-40s), and Chase and Erika, both of whom I’d say were closer to me in age. From my time spent with them today, I gathered that these are the leaders of what remains of the town’s populace. They were grouped around a large map of the town pinned to a bulletin board.
After introductions were made, I explained that we were interested in taking Gerald up on his offer of moving to the square and helping with the town’s work. Gerald then took a few minutes to explain what they were doing and how the work within the town was divided. He said that currently, the two main roles were security guard and scavenger. He guessed (and rightly so) that since I had children, I’d be more interested in a scavenger role. He also said that the kids could help if they’d like. Otherwise, there were people to care for them, although he seemed to think that Dylan could be helpful in scavenging smaller spaces like attics and crawlspaces where it’d be more difficult for adults to fit. Dylan seemed excited about the idea. Me, not so much.
Gerald then showed me on their map of the town where they were working and how the townspeople had been divided to fulfill these jobs. Currently, out of the 44 survivors available to share the work, 15 were assigned to security roles. He explained that the White River created a natural barrier on the south and west sides of town. Five people guarded the Highway 46 river bridge (the only access point to the west side of town) that headed toward Ellettsville and Bloomington. This was the same bridge around the bend from which we had left the train when we arrived. They had assigned more personnel to this entry point to town than any other since Bloomington was the largest city in the area, and therefore the biggest security risk in Gerald’s mind. Four people were stationed on the north side of town (I can’t remember exactly where). Four more were assigned to guard the east side of town. There was only one access to the south side of town, a bridge that crossed the river and linked with Potterville Road. This point is only guarded by two security personnel. All these major routes into town have been barricaded, and the security units manning them carry radios to alert the rest of the townspeople in the event of any issues.
There are a total of 20 people involved in the town’s “scavenging and reclamation” efforts as Gerald terms them. The scavengers work from 8 a.m. (most of them had just left before we’d arrived) until 4 p.m. From 8 to 12, they scavenge. After lunch, they offload and organize the goods they’ve brought back to the square with them from 1 to 4 p.m.
Most of those who work the security detail (they’re mostly single men) camp at their posts at night while a few come back to the square to eat and to sleep in the comfort of a real bed. Every couple days, they rotate who stays on watch and who comes home.
I was kind of surprised that I was being told so much about their security setup, but I guess they figure that if I was a spy, I wouldn’t have brought my kids along…although they would have made for great cover if I was.
Gerald also pointed out on the map certain areas of the town that had already been picked clean by their scavenger teams. They were crossed off with red X’s. Places like the gas stations, drug store, grocery store, and local Wal-Mart were emptied early on in the flu outbreak. He
said that they are currently working their way across the town from west to east, house-by-house and business-by-business, taking whatever might be useful. So far, it looked as though they’d covered about a quarter of the town.
Erika is in charge of inventorying all the supplies and stashing them in stockpiles around the square. Currently, they are using the old library, the post office, and the armory (located just off the square) as their supply depots. She said they have more stuff than they need right now, but they’d like to get everything from around the town properly stored in close proximity to the residents. The supplies could then be safeguarded from any outsiders who might get into town unnoticed (I detected a kind of shitty tone when Erika mentioned “outsiders” – I don’t think she cares for me much). I got the feeling that there is something between her and Chase (who I have to admit is not too shabby to look at), but I don’t know for sure. Maybe that’s why Erika didn’t seem too friendly. She thinks I’ll go after her man – like I don’t have more important things to worry about. It’s hard enough surviving the apocalypse, losing my husband, traveling hundreds of miles with my two young kids on a train to a new and unfamiliar town where I have to try to incorporate my family into a community I know nothing about and who knows nothing about me. Sure, the first thing I want to do is start playing homewrecker. Sounds like a great idea, Erika!
The Pandemic Diaries [Books 1-3] Page 17
