Those living outside the town were given the options of joining us on our journey, relocating on their own or staying put. The same options were given to those residing inside the town; although, I doubt very much that any of us will be staying.
After a brief recess in which Gerald met with Chase and several others, a schedule was announced for our departure preparations. Every person would be allowed a single suitcase of personal belongings to make more room for supplies aboard the train. It was announced that a break would be given after the meeting adjourned (a break we’re currently on as I write this) to allow people to return to their homes and gather their belongings.
No one knows for sure – even Ronald – how long we have, so we aren’t leaving it to chance. We are all to meet back at the courthouse at eight o’clock and will work in shifts throughout the night to get things moved from our supply depots and loaded onto the train. I’ve been assigned the first shift that goes from eight tonight until midnight. I figure that Violet and Dylan can work with me until around nine or so, and then I’ll send them home to sleep while I finish up. I’m to be back at six tomorrow morning. Gerald says there will be time for people to sleep once everything is loaded and we’re on our way. He makes a good point. We need to get as much loaded aboard the train and get moving as quickly as possible. There likely won’t be any way to know when the first traces of radiation start to reach us, and we don’t want to unwittingly expose ourselves.
This whole thing comes as a complete shock. I think everyone is still absorbing the entirety of the situation. It has really blindsided us. I mean, the attack last week was one thing. We could all foresee something like that happening even though it DID catch us by surprise. But this? Who could have guessed such a calamity would befall our town? I think even Gerald was caught off guard.
So it looks like we’ll soon be on the move again. Here I thought we’d found our new home…but I was wrong. At least THIS time we’ll have more supplies to keep us fed along our journey…AND we’ll have companions.
For now, I’m going to help the kids finish packing their suitcases. In an attempt to be positive about the whole situation, at least we get to leave with a suitcase full of stuff. It’s certainly more than we arrived with.
Tuesday, October 22 nd
5:44 a.m.
Everyone worked their tails off last night. And as I look out of our windows through the darkness of the pre-dawn hours and across Main Street to where the railroad tracks run, I see nothing but piles and piles of supplies waiting to be loaded aboard the train that sits idle alongside the courthouse.
Guess they were busy last night after I finished my shift.
Gerald got us generator-fed lights to work by last night and most of my shift was spent loading and hauling supplies from the armory. Another team worked bringing stuff from the post office, and another worked taking supplies out of the old library. Another group moved refrigeration units onto the train to store our cold goods.
It also appears that Gerald has gotten the train reorganized with the boxcars all moved closest to the engine and the coal cars placed to the rear. I’m guessing that he had Hank (the man with prior work experience on trains) handle that late last night.
I find myself filled with a strong sense of nervous anticipation. I remember having this same sort of feeling as a kid preparing to leave for vacation – the difference now is that it’s more nervousness and less excitement. There’s no telling where this next stint of our apparently extended post-flu adventure is going to take us. It’s not something I was expecting, and not something I’m particularly looking forward to. I was actually finding myself settling quite nicely into our new life in Spencer. With the exception of the attack last week, which sadly was tame compared to our experiences in Chicago, and missing Chris, I was reasonably content here.
But I’m doing my damnedest to go into this with a positive outlook. There are too many negative emotions flowing through me right now to do otherwise. I think I would have been quite happy settling in and spending the rest of my life here with the kids…and possibly with Chase. But now I find myself uprooted again with no clear picture of what lies ahead. But it’s really not about me. I feel terrible for the children, although I think that at their ages, they’re actually a bit more adaptable to such changes. As long as they have food to eat, a few games and toys to play with, and maybe a friend or two, they seem to be reasonably content. I know that they’re still dealing with the effects of not having a dad around (heck, I’m dealing with the effects of not having a HUSBAND around), but there isn’t anything I can do about that right now. Chase has helped fill the void a little bit, but it’s not the same as having Chris here. It’s strange; when I have dreams, many of them still take place in Chicago, back in our old life before the flu. Chris is usually there, but not always. I wonder how long it will take before those memories start to fade…or if they ever will.
Sometimes I think back to the last moments I spent with Chris, both when he was alive and once he was already dead. Then I think about what happened to him, to his body, after I left him in our condo. Is he still there, decomposing alone in our old torn and tattered kitchen? Is our condo building even still standing or was it burned to the ground? Is his body now buried under a pile of bricks and rubble?
God, what terrible thoughts. Why do I have them and why are they coming up now? I need to focus on the job at hand – helping to get the kids, myself, and the rest of the town safely away from this place before we’re all green-glowing malformed monsters. I’m going to be late to work if I don’t move my tail. It looks like a light snow has begun to fall. Great – perfect weather to work in.
11:14 a.m.
I’m on my lunch break. There are sandwiches, cookies, hot coffee, and hot chocolate set up inside the courthouse so that people can grab a bite to eat and get back to work. Dylan is here with me. Violet helped for a while, but she kept getting in the way and then she started complaining that she was cold so Edna offered to watch her.
I’m pretty exhausted, especially after being up late last night and then up again early this morning, but we’re all pushing hard to get as much stuff as possible loaded on the train. We want to be on our way by early this afternoon – 3 p.m. is our target – to stay ahead of the radiation that’s supposedly headed toward us.
When the sky starts glowing green, I guess that’ll be our cue that it’s too late.
I’m sitting here on the courthouse steps watching several forklifts load pallets of supplies inside the boxcars. It’s cold, but I’m still warm from working. Dylan and I have been assigned to the inside of one of the boxcars where we offload supplies from pallets, stack them inside the car, and then secure them with bungee cords and ropes. Down the way, there are several lifts and a small crane being used to lower bulkier objects or things that will weather the open air better – containers of gasoline, propane, generators, tools, etc. – down into the coal cars. The bottoms of several of these cars were fitted with plywood and grated metal sheeting so that we could put livestock into them. There are some pigs, goats, a couple cows, and several crates of chickens. Big tarps are being used to cover the tops to help keep the animals dry and warm. It almost looks like the circus has come to town.
There’s another train car – one of several being used to haul most of our residents – where the luggage is being loaded. People are lined up in a sort of fire brigade tossing bags to one another and then up to people loading them inside the car. It all reminds me of scenes of Jewish refugees preparing to be herded onto trains during the Holocaust.
I certainly hope our ride is more comfortable and has a better ending.
There were several empty boxcars left on the east side of town, an industrial part of Spencer. They have been linked to our train to give us some additional carrying capacity. With all the supplies we have, and now with the 20 extra residents from outside town, we’ll need the space. Of the 20 new arrivals, I’d say about 15 or 16 are men, and the other four are w
omen. They’ll all adults. Most of them look to be at least in their 40s or older. From what I’ve heard, the remaining county residents who didn’t join us on the train mostly decided to attempt to link up with friends or family members in other parts of the state or country.
It’s good that we have a lot of supplies. It looks like we’ll need them with these extra people. We were going through a lot of food and water with 40 people; now we’re up to 60. Gerald has sent a small team of people to the well outside town to collect as many containers of clean drinking water as they can fill before our departure. We’ve also refilled the train’s water tank.
It’s amazing to see all the stuff we’ve collected on our scavenging missions. It didn’t seem like all that much since we were accumulating it a truck full at a time and then stashing it away in our supply depots. But now that it’s all been hauled out and piled before the train, the amount is impressive. There are guns, ammunition, tools, blankets, clothing, medical supplies, toiletries and paper products (several portable toilets have been loaded inside the boxcars too), feed for the animals, bottled water, a vast array of canned and pre-packaged foods, and just about anything we think we might need to make a home for ourselves in a new location. That’s good. Having to hit the rails again and find a new home – that may or may not have the supplies we had here – means we could be in for a long, hard winter.
I just pray this isn’t a gimmick and that Ronald wasn’t associated with the group that attacked us earlier. If he was, now would be a perfect time to strike. We only have a couple lookouts posted on the outskirts of town since everyone else is involved in the evacuation efforts.
Everyone who knows how to handle a firearm is carrying one right now and will continue to do so once aboard the train. According to Gerald, each car will have several lookouts. A heavier security detail will be placed aboard the engine to guard against the possibilities of an armed takeover.
Well, I’d better get back to work. They need every hand on deck, and Dylan and I have finished our sandwiches.
2:27 p.m.
I’m taking another brief break from our loading efforts. We’re getting close to wrapping things up. It’s definitely a communal effort. Everyone is giving it their all to ensure we get as many of our supplies loaded and out of harm’s way as possible. Edna even took the kids over to the well to help fill water jugs – a perfect job for them.
Who knows how long we will have to go before we find a new spot to settle. It might only be a day or two…or it could be weeks. My question is, when we find it, will others already be there? And if so, how happy will they be to see us?
While the rest of the country may have been hit just as hard as Chicago and Spencer by the flu, there are likely survivors just about anywhere we’ll go. And I doubt they’ll greet us with open arms. I’ve seen just how willing WE are to accept outsiders here (and we’re good people), so I can only imagine what other places are like – probably more like Chicago.
Personally, I’d like to find another small town just like Spencer (preferably uninhabited). But I’m not sure how realistic that desire is.
As I sit here writing (I’m inside the courthouse, drinking a cup of coffee), I’m watching the work proceed outside through one of the windows. The last few preparations are being made, the final supplies loaded inside the freight cars, and extension cords run from outlets aboard the engine back to where several large refrigeration units are set up inside the lead boxcar.
It’s all extremely depressing – a very somber affair. I find myself feeling quite down about our situation and sad about leaving Spencer – and WE’VE only been here about a month! I can only imagine what it’s like for longer-term residents. I guess I can relate since we were forced from our home in Chicago. That was hard enough, but I hadn’t lived there that long compared to many of the people here. Quite a few of them have been born, lived, and had planned on dying in Spencer. There are a lot of quiet tears being shed while people continue their work. These are good people, hard-working people, people that understand they’ll likely never see their homes or their home town again but are resigned to get on with life and start anew.
Watching the last few suitcases coming in from stragglers among the group – those who haven’t had time to pack until the last minute like Gerald and Chase – and being loaded aboard the train, those mental images of the Jewish refugees of WWII keep flashing to mind. I try to push them away in favor of more positive thoughts. I can only hope our outlook is brighter. If only they had known what was coming, I bet they would have done things differently. I hope that doesn’t foreshadow what lies ahead for us.
I feel like we’re dystopian refuges fleeing for our lives. I guess I’d rather think of us as pandemic pioneers setting out to seek and hopefully to settle a new world.
Right now, I have that odd feeling like I’m forgetting something. That’s because I probably am. It’s a feeling like right before you leave for vacation and you’re sorting through that mental list trying to make sure you don’t leave your toothbrush behind or forget you’re cell phone. I just hope that collectively we remember everything we need to make our resettlement transition as seamless as possible. As long as I have the kids, that’s all that really matters. At least we can’t leave with any less than we arrived with.
This sucks. I was really starting to get attached to Spencer. I suppose I’d better finish this entry. It looks like people are starting to board the train. Gerald has asked me and the kids to ride up front to start the trip. I’m finally feeling kind of important. He said that I have more time than anyone else actually operating a freight engine (which is kind of scary when I stop and think about it, but he’s right). Even Hank, the guy who has experience working on the railroad, hasn’t spent as much time as I have actually driving one. He started as a freight loader and then moved into more of the logistics side. It’s nice having these people counting on me, but kind of scary too. I think the kids like it, especially Dylan. He’s strutting around here like he’s king of the roost. It makes me feel proud…like we’re finally necessary. I haven’t felt that way since we arrived – just the opposite in fact. I’ve almost felt like we’ve been a drain on the town’s resources. Even though Dylan and I have been earning our keep through contributing our labor to the scavenging efforts, I never felt like the town actually NEEDED us for any reason. We were just more physical labor…extra pairs of hands. I know it’s stupid, but now I can bring something to the table that no one else can. It’s a nice feeling.
4:11 p.m.
We were a little late getting started, but now we’re on our way, riding the rails (once again for some of us, for the first time for most). But ALL of us are headed into the unknown together.
We just passed through the town of Freedom, cruising along at a steady 15 miles an hour – not too fast, not too slow. We don’t want to dawdle with a nuclear dust cloud headed our way. We’ve been snaking alongside the White River since beginning our route south. After speaking with Gerald before our departure, we’ve decided to adopt my own personal travel strategy. We’re traveling slow enough to be able to pick up any Owen County residents who might decide they’d like to accept a last-minute ride, but fast enough that we can kick it into high gear to escape any danger.
We have security details on all the cars, and right now, everyone is still on edge. For some people, this is their first time traveling on a train, so there is also a little nervous excitement. We’ve cut small ports in the sides of the boxcars for ventilation and so people feel less claustrophobic. Dylan wants to go play lookout on the engine’s catwalk, but between his lingering cold and the ever-present possibility of danger, I’ve told him to help us by keeping lookout inside the relative safety of the engine.
I find myself filled with an odd mixture of hope, fear, anticipation, and dread. I want to find a new place to settle, but I fear what we’ll discover when we arrive. It seems like we had finally gotten settled in Spencer, and suddenly, here we are, in almost the same situa
tion we were in just a month ago. Will we ever find a place we can finally call home again?
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 1
AFTERMATH: PART 2
AFTERMATH: PART 3
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: PANDEMIC PIONEERS
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: Pandemic Pioneers / K.W. Callahan
ISBN: 1-533-08978-7
The Pandemic Diaries [Books 1-3] Page 25
