by Ann Christy
I passed two more barricades, both present where the highway intersected with other highways or large roads. Both were unmanned, of course. And like that first one, it was clear that humans had been the aggressors. While I didn’t have much hope, I tried the communications on both. No success. Both areas had been stripped, right down to the gas in the tanks of all the nearby vehicles.
It may seem like I was just zipping along, but getting those few miles actually took until late afternoon. Between moving hazards in the road and watching in all directions, it was painfully slow. If not for the protection of my car’s metal shell, I would have run instead. I did take the time to cover my car in dirt and grime at one point. It was simply too shiny after being garaged the whole time. Covered in dirt, it could pass for one of the other cars left along the road when I wasn’t moving.
The suburbs start about six miles down the road. Normally, people take the freeway, but during rush hour, there’s always traffic down our highway as people skirt the freeway crowd during peak times. The freeway overpass gave me a shock when it came into view. I had to stop in the shelter of a gas station for a while to get my bearings.
There’s a sort of mini-district before the suburbs start, the kind with gas stations, grocery stores, restaurants, and the like. It’s all fairly new, because the suburb isn’t old. It always struck me as better than the one nearest our neighborhood. It was modern, making it look more high-end than the 1980s collection of businesses close to my neighborhood. It sure wasn’t that way anymore.
The whole place almost looked like a war zone. Plywood covered the windows and shop doors in the strip mall in many places, but broken glass littered everything. It was so shiny. Trash billowed out of broken storefronts, and carts from the big Kroger’s and the smaller Whole Foods store were all over the place, even in the street.
It must have been mayhem after it all began. Between the people who shopped for dinner on the way home from work and those who went out to eat more often than not, there was probably a crash for food and supplies. It looked like there was. Even the gas station where I was parked appeared to have been looted. The door was broken, and only bare shelves remained. Even the lids to the gas tanks under the station were pried off.
The freeway overpass led to the off ramp for this area, and it was packed with cars. Bumper to bumper. All the way down. The remains of a shirt fluttered from the edge of the concrete side like a stained flag. It was a strange sight.
My brain was churning, but one thought stood out. Like my neighborhood, this is a prosperous area. It’s filled with lawyers, higher level government workers, doctors, senior Navy officers, and others of the white-collar class. One of these developments was going up when I was shopping for my home and I’d looked at the floor plans on offer. I could never have afforded even their most modestly priced model. As I said, a high-end area.
I got a great job after my disability happened, working logistics for one of the big shipping companies based here. Mostly, I worked from home on my computer, but it paid well. I liked the futzy nature of working with complex routes and shipping needs. It was like one of those games where you try to fit odd shaped pieces together as they fall. Well, not exactly, but a container ship isn’t that far off. Even with that secure job, I could never have swung the payments. These kinds of houses require two substantial paychecks, rather than one.
The upshot is that all these people could afford the best nanites…and probably had a good many of them. This area would have been a hotbed of monster activity. I guess sometimes it doesn’t pay to be wealthy. Looking around me at that moment, I could readily believe that.
I sat there for a long time. I’m not even sure how long. I wasn’t sure what to do. I wanted to see the suburbs, to see if there were people, see if there was life, but this didn’t look promising. Once dinner time rolled around, I was also reminded that I either needed to get back home or find a safe place for the night. I didn’t see how I would find anywhere safe there, but it might be worse if I went where there was less debris. I would stand out more in a less chaotic area.
It was clear that this area had been looted entirely, so I didn’t figure it likely anyone would return. There weren’t any monsters roaming that I could see, but there were some inside cars. I could see them pawing at their smeared windows in the parking lot of the restaurant next door, so there were probably a lot more monsters that I couldn’t see.
One thing I’ve learned is that we always find monsters where there are people, so if you don’t see them, you won’t find people. Well, that’s not always true, but you know what I mean. It’s a generality, but a valid one.
None of the buildings or businesses in the strip mall filled me with a feeling of security, but that long flat roof above the strip did catch my eye. Likewise, the flat expanse above the tilted, red tiles of a restaurant looked good. All I needed was an access, but I knew I could jump it in a pinch too.
That bears mentioning here. Before I left, I changed my legs from the standard model that look like legs to the sport models. While I can run fast with the regular legs, I don’t really get top speeds until I put on the sporting ones. The only problem is trying to drive a car. The long blades don’t exactly work well with a gas pedal.
So, I had switched out one sport leg for a regular leg while driving. Yeah, it looked weird, and it might slow me down if I got into a situation outside the car. The sport models are slightly shorter than the regular ones, because of shoes and compression and so on.
My thoughts at the time were that I would be able to switch out my driving leg for a sport model if I needed to run. I mean, wouldn’t it be faster to switch out one leg instead of two? And if I had to leave the car and run, I would definitely want top speeds. I was overthinking things. I was way too optimistic about my ability to swap appendages in time to avoid trouble. That part is for later. I’ll get to it.
I settled on the strip mall for a couple of reasons. The roof was lower, but also longer, which gave me more space to run if needed. More escape routes, as it were. Also, it was further back from the road, giving me more time if someone came into this complex of stores. Set in the back, it also gave me a better view of the area. The area closest to the road was taken up by all the free-standing businesses, which somewhat shielded me from view, but allowed me to see. Also, there were more cars I could hide my car behind.
It took me a while to get up the courage to move the car again. I felt very exposed. Avoiding glass was another issue. Eventually, I parked near the end of the strip mall, my vehicle sheltered from view behind a very large SUV with four flat tires and broken windows. Then I got myself ready.
Let me tell you, trying to maneuver around to change my leg in a compact car is an exercise in hilarious fumbling. I got the job done though.
I shouldered my pack, scanned the area with field glasses, then got out of the car as silently as possible. Even the tiny click of the door closing made me flinch. The signs and frontage of the strip made the jump harder from the front, so I scooted around the end where there was no need for decoration. While it was taller than a standard one story, it was still only one story tall, so I jumped.
I didn’t realize it was covered in gravel over tar, so I slid right onto my butt when I landed. Those were my first injuries of this trip, a bunch of very nice abrasions on my palms. They stung like crazy. And getting hot, nearly-melted tar in scratches hurts like the devil.
Long story short, that’s where I slept. I saw a decent number of monsters, but only in the distance. None of them were headed my way. The most amazing thing I saw that night was a cat.
A real cat!
It slunk out of the scrubby trees behind the complex. I wouldn’t have known it was there, but I just happened to see the movement as I crouched near the edge and scanned the area. I had brought cans of tuna to eat. My can for the night was open on the roof next to me, so maybe it smelled it.
The cat was skinny and wearing a bright green collar. It was cute too. I
said, “Hey, Kitty,” but real softly. The cat stopped short and looked around, so I repeated my words and it looked up. As soon as it saw me, it raced away, back into the trees. I guess it has realized the sad fact that human-looking things aren’t always safe.
I watched for the rest of the evening, but it didn’t return. When I left the next morning, I opened a can of tuna and put it near the spot where it came out of the woods. I hope it gets the food.
The bread machine just dinged, so I’m going to eat fruit and nut bread. I’m also going to search for some dates. I used all mine, but surely there must be more. Grant probably has some. I could seriously go for some date and nut bread. I’m really craving carbs. If I ever leave the neighborhood again, I’ll have to be sure to bring more food. A bag of pancakes and a few cans of tuna simply didn’t cut it.
Day 43 - Evening
I had a lot to do today after my leisurely morning. A good deal of it had to do with what I learned while I was out in the world. Doesn’t that sound odd? Out in the world. What does that even mean now?
Anyway, the report on my bread is as follows: I apparently do not have the baking gene, even when it comes to bread machines. The loaf was good, very tasty, but it was a full inch shorter than Marcy’s and quite dense. Experimentation is called for.
Now, onto the important stuff. While I definitely looked for dried dates, I was really searching for other things when I went out today. There were two monsters, one of the screaming sort and one of the slow and grayish sort. I smashed the screaming one in the face with my feet. Since I had a running start, the thing barely got a noise out. The other one shuffled to a stop, perhaps not comprehending what it was seeing, but it only paused a moment.
They’re committed little fellows.
That one didn’t give me a running start, since it was close to begin with, so I got it with a machete…a very, very sharp one…and then kicked it when it was down. Considering how unskilled we were when this started, I think I’m doing pretty well. It helps not to have another human around for me to be concerned about. I can focus entirely on the task at hand.
Anyway, I found dates. They’re my favorite kind, Medjool. Lovely and sweet and meaty.
My real treasures were the electronics, though. And that’s what I learned while I was gone. Let me go back and explain, because if you don’t know this yet, it’s a nugget of pure gold when it comes to surviving.
On my second day out, late in the day, while I was looking for a safe spot to hole up for the night, I came upon a strange sort of caravan. No one was there anymore, but it had clearly started out as a line of vehicles, all traveling together. How do I know? Well, I can’t be sure, but it seemed obvious.
It was no more than a quarter-mile from the main entrance to a gated community, a big one with some pricey houses. Most of the cars in the caravan were expensive, so I figured later that these cars probably came from there. The convoy was facing me, as if it had been headed in the direction of the freeway entrance. At the front and rear were Humvees, both with the remains of mounted guns, though I think the front one must have exploded. I couldn’t see the back one well, because of the distance and all the vehicles between us.
At two spots within the caravan were big military trucks. I think they must have had supplies, because there were a few torn pieces of boxes and straps that secure things inside trucks. Again, there was nothing in there of use, but there had been. I didn’t know that until later though. At first glance, I merely saw big trucks in the line of cars.
The weird thing was that aside from the front Humvee, which was blackened and charred, and the front wheels entirely gone, almost all the vehicles were pulled to the side a little. The parking was badly done, but they were pulled over with purpose. All the driver’s doors were open too, along with a good many of the passenger doors and all the trunks.
It was like something happened to the Humvee, so everyone pulled over, got out, and walked away. Even the keys were in the ignitions or the fobs were left on the seats. Many gas tanks were open and all the tanks were dry.
Can you imagine such a sight? It was surreal. I stopped for a long time, just looking. It didn’t seem possible that so many people would simply walk away. From a distance, I couldn’t see the rain-damaged interiors yet, or the keys in the ignitions, or all the rest. During those first looks, all I could see was the strangeness of it.
While I sat there, the thought went through my head that this was like those places where all the living things disappeared, leaving behind everything intact, including food on a plate and a fork resting on the side. It was like that, eerie. A ghost ship in the form of cars. Only instead of an urban fairytale, it was real.
There were also no monsters around. I waited a while, then carefully crept along the line of cars along one side. That’s when I saw all the damage, which made it clear that whatever happened here was quite some time ago. The smell of dead things got stronger as I neared the back of the convoy. Again, since the convoy was facing me, I was walking from the front to the back.
At the last Humvee, I saw the source of the smell, but I was enormously confused by the sight. Because of the dead smells, I was careful on approach, so that I could run quickly. Peeking around the corner of the Humvee until I was sure there was nothing there to run after me, I scanned the piles of bodies.
At first, I wondered if these were the people from the cars, but even after the decay, I could tell most of the people were barely clothed or naked. The brightly colored wristbands stood out and told me with certainty that most of those lying on the road were original Awakened.
What confused me were the lines of slender rope trailing from the bumper of the Humvee to the piles. Were the monsters tied up and being dragged? Were they some bizarre form of prisoner? I don’t suppose I’ll ever know the precise dynamics at work, but following one of the lines to a body, I did discover something.
The line wasn’t tied to the monster. It was tied to a bundle of components, like the insides of a computer, or maybe a game system, but without the case that hides all the electronics from view. A monster, now dead, still had its hands and mouth around the components. Even with the decay, I could see the tears and cuts all around the mouth.
At first, I had no idea why this would be. Was the component making noise perhaps? Maybe it was set to mimic yells or human noises. That’s the only thing that made sense to me. So, I looked further.
The pile was messy and rank, slippery with decay. It sounds bad, but while it was nasty, this wasn’t the nastiest or grossest thing I’ve done since this all started. How awful is that?
Anyway, I followed all the lines. Every single one. Almost all of them led to the mouths or hands…or both…of a monster. A few didn’t, but that didn’t mean much, because the monster could have dropped it when they were killed.
So, the question became one of why. Why did they want the electronics, if they did? And then; why did this convoy lure them along with electronics?
It was an enticing mystery and I aimed to find out. I snipped several of the lines near the bumper and took the lines and components with me. That night, I slept in one of those ritzy houses, but doing so was nerve-wracking. I know why they left now. The houses are moldering after a summer of no air-conditioning. The smells inside are almost unbearable. Mold, sewage, rotten things. I felt like I was breathing poison.
In the house I chose, large patches of black were seeping through the ornate wallpaper in the two-story foyer like irregular handprints. It was creepy. I’d noticed this beginning in a few of the houses in my neighborhood, always in homes that don’t have solar and no one home to create airflow. We’d started a routine of opening and closing windows in those houses to try and delay that process, but we all knew it was only a matter of time.
The modern homes here were even worse than the ones near my house. These McMansions were never built with the possibility of no electricity to power the AC, nor were they designed for our humid, southeastern climate. Not even close.
Like most such places, the design was meant to make someone feel like they’d made it in the world. This kind of house would be plopped down anywhere in the country, regardless of climate, by a huge developer. That was showing now. The black mold would take all these expensive places quickly.
I guess I’m glad I couldn’t afford a house in any of these subdivisions after all.
I took the smallest room in the house, one with an upstairs window that opened toward the street. It was a good place to keep watch from. Since it was a room further from the rapidly blackening bathroom, it seemed safest to breathe in. A median boasting a meandering walking trail divided the street just outside. Without gardeners and chemicals, the flower beds had gone to weeds and the grass grown tall, more like a narrow field.
There were also trees of a kind I adore. We have them all along the street where I live. Southern Crepe Myrtle is the name. If you’re here at my house, I hope you get a chance to see them blooming. It’s glorious. Anyway, this place had them in their median. The blooming time is coming, but isn’t yet here, so I decided to use one of those trees as a test.
There are monsters in this neighborhood, so I’m guessing the gated nature of the place doesn’t mean the whole suburb is fenced. It was easy enough to creep past the few roaming monsters once I left my car at the gate. The houses are large and provide good cover for a single person on foot. Getting to the median was more difficult, but doable. I tied one of the components to a low branch so that it swung in the breeze.
While I was going from house to house, I also noticed the large amount of electronic gear on the ground. Broken tablets, laptops, phones…you name it. There was little else in the way of litter, but lots of electronics. Such a singular type of litter had to mean something. These people knew something I didn’t. I hoped I would find out what it was, which is why I tied a component to a tree.
