by Nathan Jones
Although to be fair, with millions of people packed into a relatively small area even what seemed like a lot of food would disappear pretty quickly into so many hungry mouths.
Trev had been right. The government wasn't going to save the day any time soon and things weren't going to get any better, at least not before they got much much worse. Matt couldn't see any real reason to stay when even a lot of the professors were abandoning their classes, and he was starting to see why his friend had been so worried about being in a city during a disaster. It was as he was filling the last of the bottles that Matt's budding resolution to get out of the city crystallized into a determination to not wait another minute. It was time to head home, not just for his own sake but to be there for his parents when this chaos eventually reached even their small town down in Carbon County.
Before he left, though, he wanted to implement one of Trev's other good ideas: stocking up on essentials.
Sure, he wasn't stupid enough to think that there'd be any food left in stores at this point. But food wasn't the only thing people needed in an emergency, and there were a lot of things people might have overlooked in their desperation to meet their more immediate needs. Things like toothbrushes, floss, soap, blankets, over the counter medicines, even toilet paper. If he could spend all his remaining savings on stuff he might be able to use or trade later then he'd still end up in a better position than if he came home with nothing but the clothes on his back.
He had to at least try, especially after Trev and Lewis had made him look like a blind fool caught with his pants down in a disaster with nothing prepared. He had enough fuel left in his car to take him home, or at least most of the way, and even if he didn't quite make it he could always ferry the supplies the rest of the way. If worse came to worst he could borrow Tom Hawsett's horse and parade wagon for the trip. To go shopping meant he'd have to walk to the nearest store and bring the supplies back to campus pushing a grocery cart, maybe making several trips for everything, but that wasn't so bad.
But before he could head back out the door to walk to the nearest superstore, which was about a mile away, the door to the nearest room opened and his roommate Trent shuffled out. The tall, gangly student made his way to one of the couches in the living room, slumping down in the dim light coming in through the windows and staring at the blank screen. The twenty-five year old, who was still working on his bachelor's, had always been a bit odd and rarely socialized with his roommates, but this behavior was strange even for him.
Matt paused in heading out the door and made his way over. “What's up?”
Trent didn't even look over at him. “Nothing, man.”
He usually would've left it at that and walked away, but this didn't feel like a leave obvious problems alone sort of day. “Nothing? You're sitting in the dark staring at a blank TV. Come on, what's up?”
His roommate made a low noise and dropped his head into his hands. “Just stuff.”
“Yeah.” Matt went and sat on the opposite end of the couch. “I just went to a canceled class after walking away from a riot in the cafeteria, then decided to finally give up on my college education and worry about getting home instead. I know about stuff.”
Trent laughed. “Yeah, education. We won't be able to wear our little square hat and gown and get a rolled up piece of paper anymore. Too bad.”
Matt frowned. He actually cared a lot about education, which was why he was here. But he really wasn't in the mood to argue, especially not with the roommate he barely even saw.
So he kept silent, and eventually Trent began talking. “I visit a psychiatrist, you know? I was going to the university services and talking to one of their psychologists, but he thought I needed more than just counseling.”
“Okay.” Matt didn't quite know what to say. He wasn't surprised, not with the way Trent acted, but he hadn't expected it.
“So for the last year he's had me on antidepressants for generalized anxiety disorder. I don't know if it's been helping, I guess. But with prices really getting out of control in the last six months I told him I couldn't afford the prescription, that maybe it was an expense I could do without. A few months ago I tried going off it.”
Matt nodded. That seemed reasonable, he supposed. The time to figure out if you can do without something is when it's hard to get.
Trent made another low noise, almost a moan, and clenched his hands into fists at the sides of his head, gripping clumps of hair. “It was bad. I felt like, I don't know, I don't really want to talk about it. But after about a week off the drugs I was so messed up I tried to kill myself.”
“I had no idea.” Matt clamped his mouth shut, embarrassed about his response. But what did you say to something like that? “I'm sorry, man.”
His roommate shook his head slowly from side to side, and kept it up as he started talking again. “My psychiatrist told me I should get back on the meds. He dropped my dosage down to more affordable levels, but it was enough. Things got a bit better.”
“Well that's good.”
Fiercer head shaking. “No it's not! As soon as I heard that the trucks wouldn't be bringing in shipments, not even of necessities, I called and asked my psychiatrist about my medication. He said he wasn't sure whether or not pharmaceuticals were going to be shipped in, but that local distributers were withholding SSRIs and antipsychotics for treatment of the criminally disordered and those who were a danger to themselves or others.”
Matt frowned. “But that's you, isn't it?” As soon as he said it he was afraid Trent would be offended. “I mean sorry, that's a messed up thing to say, but aren't you on some suicide watch list or something?”
His roommate shook his head with another low moan. “I never told him about it. I just said it was really bad without the medication and I couldn't handle it anymore. I figured maybe I was just being overdramatic or something.”
A short silence settled and Matt shifted on the couch, unsure what to say. He was glad Trent was turned away from him so his roommate couldn't see how uncomfortable he was. “Can't you go to another doctor? Or maybe tell your psychiatrist how serious it is?”
Trent shook his head again. “I'm afraid he won't give me any even if I tell him, but he'll think I'm unstable and have me committed or something. It's not really that bad. It isn't.”
It sounded pretty bad to Matt, but he couldn't say that. “Well what if you cut your doses down even more? Just took it when it got really really bad?”
A shrug. “I think that's what I'm going to have to do. But it's not going to be good. It's going to be an awful few weeks until gas starts flowing again. And not just for me. Did you know Utah ranks highest for percentage of people with mental disorders in the US?”
Matt hadn't known that, and he wasn't sure how much he liked hearing it. Things were already looking bad only a week after the attack. Add in the highest percentage of people with mental disorders in the country, all of them off their meds, and what did that equal? Heading down to Aspen Hill was looking more and more attractive, and the sooner the better.
Trent abruptly stood up. “You think I'm a nutjob, don't you?”
He stood up too. “Hey no, no man. Sounds like it's the meds that're causing your problems, that's all.” He didn't know how convincing he sounded. This was his first time really seeing mental problems firsthand, and even though he felt bad for the guy and sympathized with his problem he also felt a bit uncomfortable.
Trent glared at him for a second then turned and stalked to his room, closing the door quietly behind him. For some reason that made it seem all the more odd to Matt, who'd been expecting a slam.
Now seemed like a great time to get out of the apartment and go shopping, but as he left the dorms and campus grounds behind he couldn't help but wonder about other medical problems. Mental issues were certainly serious, but what about people who required insulin or dialysis or chemo or other critical treatments? What about people waiting for transplants? For now it would just be missing their meds, but
once the power went out would the government have enough fuel to power whatever backup generators hospitals needed to keep running?
It wasn't just starvation or violence, the death toll from those reliant on modern medicine was going to be devastating as well.
Those thoughts put Matt in a bleak mood as he walked the distance to the store, and he felt a sudden urge to call his parents. He pulled out his phone and dialed his mom's number, who answered within moments of the first ring. “Honey, is everything all right?” she demanded in a frantic voice.
He closed his eyes and opened them again. She'd called at least three times a day during the last week, usually in response to some news story she'd seen about violence erupting in a nearby city. “Nothing like that, Mom. I just wanted to call ahead and let you know I'm coming home.”
“Thank God,” she said. “What with Trev having left a week ago and still not here I've been extra worried about-”
“Hold on,” Matt interrupted. “Trev isn't there yet? He left the morning after the attack!”
“Oh I know, it's a terrible story. Apparently he ran out of gas less than a third of the way home and had to walk, but then he injured his leg and that slowed him way down. Last I heard from Lewis his phone had died but he was going to take it slow to avoid any more accidents. It's amazing how such a small thing can become so serious, isn't it?”
Matt was getting more and more experience with small things becoming serious. “Yeah. I hope he makes it safely. But anyway I just want to do a few things up here and then I'll be heading down. I'll let you know when I'm almost there.”
“Okay honey. I'll get your bedsheets cleaned and have a hot meal waiting for you.” His mom paused, then continued in a hushed voice. “I've had word from Mayor Anderson's office that our area's power plant is running critically low on fuel. Even with all the City Council announcements about cutting down to strictly necessary appliances and only using lights at night, and to add to that Officer Turner's warnings about fines for disobeying the new policies, people are still not reducing their consumption. I just wanted to let you know in case the house is dark when you arrive, so you won't be worried.”
That news did worry Matt, although not for the reasons she thought. It seemed like Aspen Hill wasn't immune to all this trouble either, which meant going home wouldn't be some magical cure to all his problems until the government solved this disaster. Intellectually he'd known the reality of things, but it was still a bit of a shock to hear.
“All right, Mom. I'll try to get some candles and flashlights for us.”
His mom's tone turned surprisingly stern. “Oh we're all right with that for a few weeks. You just worry about coming home, honey. I'll finally be able to get a decent night's sleep not having to worry about you up there where a riot might start any minute. Between fretting over you and April and the boys it's a wonder I'm not bald from stress.”
They said their goodbyes and Matt hung up, not liking the reminder about riots. He sort of wished he'd thought to bring the Glock Trev had given him. It had stayed in his room since he'd gotten it because it was prohibited on campus and Matt spent all his time there, but he had a feeling it might've been a good idea to bring it along.
Or was it? He didn't have a concealed carry permit like Trev or Lewis, and even if it was legal in Utah the sight of a gun being openly carried might spook people and end up causing more trouble than it prevented.
Besides, it was just a twenty minute walk to the store.
Chapter Five
Day Seven: Afternoon
Lewis had picked a small lot a mile or so northwest of town to build his shelter on.
Trev hadn't cared too much about the location when he'd agreed to help his cousin with the project, partly out of boredom and partly because he really had taken Lewis's warnings about preparedness to heart and the opportunity to earn himself a place to sleep in the apocalypse seemed like a good deal. Now, though, footsore and shoulders aching from lugging a cripplingly heavy pack for 50 miles, he blessed that one mile less he had to walk with every step down the dirt road leading to the pair of low hills the shelter was nestled between.
A hundred steps. That was it, after the hundred thousand or so he'd just walked getting here. He was almost home.
He saw a sudden movement on the nearer hill, which turned out to be Lewis rising from the concealed post they'd constructed up there to watch the approaches to the shelter. Trev had helped dig it when it all seemed like a game, imagining hordes of zombies converging on the position while he blew them away with his newly purchased Mini-14 and his trusty 1911.
Now, in the middle of a pretty grim situation, it didn't seem quite so lighthearted. Especially when he saw his cousin sling his prized HK G3 across his back as he started down the hill at a trot, waving excitedly.
Trev waved back just as excitedly, taking the opportunity to unbuckle his pack's belts and let it slip off his shoulders even though he wasn't quite to the finish line. With his phone dead and occupied with making it home he'd been pretty much cut off from everything for the last week, and as eager as he was to finally rest he was equally eager for news about what was going on out in the wider world. After all the planning and speculation he'd done with Lewis it seemed almost unfair that when it all finally went down he was trapped on the road missing everything.
His cousin threw his arms around him, not seeming to mind his sweaty back, although he did back up after a moment and wrinkle his nose. “Well, even if I hadn't seen you coming I would've smelled you before you got too much closer. You've definitely been on the road exercising hard for a week.”
“Nah, just a bit of light backpacking,” Trev replied as Lewis helpfully picked up his pack to carry the rest of the way.
His cousin grunted slightly. “Light? I can't believe you came 50 miles carrying this much weight! Are you crazy?”
Trev grimaced. So he had overpacked after all. “I even left 20 pounds or so of stuff wedged between a couple rocks after I'd gone a mile. I didn't want to leave anything important behind.”
“Like your brain?” Lewis hefted the pack. “No wonder you injured yourself and it's taken you this long!”
“Yeah, it's good to see you too.” Trev clapped his cousin on the shoulder, nearly overbalancing him. “Have you talked to my folks recently?”
“Yeah, they've been calling at least once a day asking if you'd made it yet, every single time making me promise I'd call as soon as you arrived. Checking in with them is probably one of the first things you should do.”
“Definitely. How about your family? You heard from them?”
His cousin nodded, smile fading to seriousness. “They're doing pretty good, all things considered, although more worried than they'll admit about being out of the country during all this. My dad tells me Russia has been demanding more concessions for the oil Norway exports in from them. It looks like the Gold Bloc is trying to grow their influence now that the U.S. is collapsing on both the fuel and economic fronts and they're the only game in town. The Scandinavian countries will suffer along with the rest of Europe during this mess, but all things considered my folks might actually be better of there than in Aspen Hill.”
“Except here you'd be able to help them with all your preparations,” Trev pointed out.
Lewis hesitated. “Well yeah, there is that. I was just trying to look on the bright side.” That sort of dampened the mood, and his cousin quickened his pace. “Let's get you settled in and you can wash up and change into clean clothes, then sleep if you want. I've installed a shower to go with the sink and toilet in the bathroom since you were here last.”
“All on solar power?” Trev asked incredulously.
His cousin shook his head. “The water's gravity fed from a tank I buried on the hillside above the shelter to keep it from freezing. It's not heated and we'll have to refill it by hand now that vehicles aren't working, but we may as well enjoy it while we have it. Luckily we've got the stream running out of Aspen Hill Canyon not too
far away, and there's always the spring in town so drinking water won't be an issue. One of the reasons I'm glad I built the shelter here.”
“If you've got a water tank and functioning bathroom I guess that means you haven't stopped working on this thing the entire time?” Trev asked as they came around the hill. In a small depression between it and the second hill was a shed butted up against the nearer hillside to provide slight insulation, not far from the aforementioned buried water tank. But that smaller shed was just for storing tools and Lewis's gas tank and other outdoor things: most importantly, a stone's throw from it rose a rounded hump of earth that stretched 20 feet wide and 40 feet long.
That was their shelter, a corrugated steel half-pipe shed planted in a six foot deep hole, then reinforced and covered over with three feet of dirt for insulation. On the top of the mound an array of solar panels pointed towards the sun overhead, while on the sides of the mound it looked as if his cousin had made a garden with terraced rows of the sorts of hardy plants that could survive with little water.
At the front of the mound, pointed southward facing the smaller aboveground shed, a gently sloping ramp led down to the front doors, which were recessed behind a wooden entryway with a heavy metal-sheathed door to provide added insulation as well as security. By all appearances that was the only entrance, but Lewis had also created a bolt-hole in the back to a hatch covered over with a foot or so of dirt.
His cousin led the way inside, flipping on a switch to a string of low-power LEDs that did a pretty good job of lighting the wide open interior, which was partitioned with screens around the bathroom area on the side closest to the tank on the hill above and a sleeping area across from it. Farther back the shelter was mostly filled with storage, Trev's modest stacks of buckets, boxes, and cans alongside Lewis's far more impressive pile that rose over his head.
The ceiling was ten feet tall in the center, sloping down to about 5 feet before it steepened to form the walls. From the outside the space looked impressively large, but inside it was cavernous, even with all the storage it was filled with and the living and bathroom spaces partitioned off.
