We are all dying, journal.
Slowly but surely, since the first breath we ever took, each of us has been inexorably plodding along to our own demise. The only real question for any of us would be: How are you going to live the short life you do have?
At one point in time, my answer to you would have been to have as much fun as possible. I drank, smoked, ate, and fucked myself into a blessed oblivion. I honestly didn’t care what I was doing in life, because I didn’t care about my life. I wished I could end it all.
I wished I would die.
Then I found the true answer.
It is our families. It is the people that rely on you to keep them safe, to take care of them and provide for them. You know those few individuals that, when all other chips had been cashed in, were always there for you. They weep when you were sad, and laughed when you were happy. No matter what, they were there for you and stood by you.
I have failed my family.
As of the writing of this page, journal, I have not seen my family in almost half a year. I have searched and searched, and so far, my efforts have meant nothing. I am no closer to finding them now than I was a few months ago when I awoke for the first time to Hell on Earth. I sit here now, writing in you, and feel completely useless. Once more though, there are people relying on me, depending on me to get them through a tough situation. I hate to admit this journal, but I have no idea what I am doing. Why are these people, people I have grown to trust and care about, looking at me for leadership? I am as lost and confused as any.
Now here we are, the wolves literally at our doorstep, and they look to me for answers.
So I sit here, sharpening my sword, and writing in you, for in moments I am going to unveil my genius solution to all of them. I am going to; quite possibly, lead all these people to their deaths. Yet someone needs to know, someone has to know what happened. That is why I pen these pages in you my new friend. For from our first breath we are dying, and in a few minutes I may be dead.
I hope not though, for I still must find my family.
I must find my beloved.
And I kind of like you, journal.
Hope to see you again soon.
- The Journal Of Edward J. Eaton II
And I heard, as it were, the sound of thunder,
One of the four beasts sang: "Come and see!"
And I saw, and behold, a white horse,
And the name that sat on him was Death.
And Hell followed with him.
-Johnny Cash, "The Man Comes Around"
It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine.
-R.E.M., "It's the End of the World (As We Know It)"
1.
What the hell do we do now? I asked myself.
The smoke was thick in the air, choking our breath and obscuring our sight. But, even through it and the thick haze of ash, we could see the devastation. A crater, easily half mile wide, lay before us, the remnants of Champaign-Urbana seen smoldering on its far side.
"Eddy, I'm so..." a voice began. The voice was female, with a thick Irish baroque.
"Don't," I said as I raised a hand to silence her. "Just don't."
There were other voices in the haze. There was a male, with a deep voice and carrying the air of authority. Then there was two speaking together, both young, a boy comforting a girl. Somewhere, someone wept softly.
My mind spun with the implications of what I was looking at. With all that I had heard, all that I had seen, since waking up mere days ago, this almost seemed unreal. Almost like a dream. My thoughts had been solely to make it here, to make it back to the arms of my family, and now...
I fell heavily to my knees, lowering my head and placing it into my hands. I felt the tears, hot on my face; mix with the layer of soot and ash that was clinging there. I did not care. My family was more than likely gone. I had failed them. I started to weep uncontrolled, new realization finally sinking in.
I felt a soft hand on my shoulder, heard a voice close to my ear.
"Eddy..."
2.
Soft, small hands nudged my shoulder. A small, quiet voice whispered in my ear.
"Eddy..."
I lifted myself up onto my elbows from my position on my bed.
"What the fuck?" I asked as I opened my eyes. I could see the outline of a small child standing at the end of the bed. Due to the lack of light, and my lack of glasses, and the overall sleepiness of my mind, I could not make out which of the two youngest it was, Seth or Christopher.
"Um... Something is wrong with Cat." It was Christopher, his voice quiet and sleepy.
I reached over onto the windowsill and fumbled for my glasses. After planting them rather drunkenly onto my face, I proceeded with the chore of getting out of bed. I clambered over my girlfriend, trying not to wake her up also. With a few pops, and more than a few groans, I finally got out of our bed. I smiled down at Christopher, and gave him a little push on his shoulder towards the bedroom door. A few seconds later I heard the sound of the boys’ bunk bed creaking, and I knew he had made his way back. I stretched, feeling my back crack, and made my way into our small living room.
The haze of sleep was lifting from me, and the dim light in the room made it so I could see a little. I could make out my oldest, Jasmine, curled up on the couch, and saw the lump of covers and pillows that was my youngest, Seth, on the floor. I smiled as I sat down. This was the first time all of our kids had been under one roof at one time for a couple of years, and I was happy for it. I figured that our dog, Cat, could wait just long enough for me to roll a cigarette, so I proceeded to do such. I was just finishing when a thunderous boom split the air, rattling the house. It had been raining for almost a week solid, and the storm that had started the night before was the worst yet.
I finished rolling my smoke and got up, walking through the boys’ room and into our cramped kitchen. As I swept the curtain back that served as our kitchens door I immediately noticed that Cat was indeed acting strangely.
He was up on his back legs, front paws resting on our backmost windows sill. His ears were perked up, well at least as much as those floppy things would allow, and his tail was out behind him, stiff and straight. Most would look at his posture and ruffled fur and instantly thought the hundred-pound pit-bull was at point out of anger. It took only a second of hearing his whimpering, and seeing the shaking, that I realized he was scared of something outside.
Yet afraid of what is what I wondered.
"What's up boy?" I asked and his startled response both supervised and confused me. In a flash he was to the floor, head down and tail between his legs. I watched him slink out of the kitchen as fast as he could, considering his belly was literally touching the ground. I shot a quick glance out of the window, and seeing naught but darkness and rain, went back towards the front room.
I heard him before I saw him again. He had managed to shove himself up under the boys' bed as far as possible to the point that I could not see him. I could see the bed shaking lightly though, and swear I could hear his teeth clacking together. I knelt down beside the bed and went to reach under it, figuring I would pet him, assure him that everything was going to be okay. When he growled at me, and a second later I felt hot breath as his inch long fangs snapped closed a mere cunts hair in front of my fingertips, I fell back onto my ass, and I fell hard.
My heart beating rapidly in my chest, and breathing just as fast, I scrambled to my feet to go and get Crystal up. In my panic and terror, I was paying little attention to my footing, and my right foot slammed hard against the edge of our coffee table. Searing pain shot up my leg clear to my hip. My breath caught in my chest with a whimper, and I hit the floor with a r
esounding "THUMP!"
"No ducks!" Jazzy said as she shot up off the couch, her eyes wide. I sat on the floor, clutching my throbbing foot and trying to draw breath. Jazzy stared down at me like I was insane, confusion and wonder in her eyes. I held a finger up, beckoning her to wait for just a moment. I heard movement to my left, and saw my baby come out of our room, the look on her face a mirror of her daughters.
"What?" she asked the fog of sleep still heavy upon her.
"I was coming to get you up," I started as soon as the pain subsided enough to allow me to speak. I picked myself up gingerly and sat my ass in or big, fluffy armchair. "Cat tried to bite me. It scared the shit out of me, and when I turned, I slammed my foot into the gods be damned coffee table. Think I may have broken my fucking toe."
"Okay, what?" she asked me, shaking her head a little to clear it.
"He tried to bite me," I reiterated, speaking slowly. "He's under the boys' bed right now, shaking so hard it’s making the whole thing vibrate. I don't know what's going on, but he's terrified of something."
As if on cue, timing straight out of a horror movie, a loud crash of thunder, followed by a piercing howling, broke through the silence. Our other dog, Fudgie, was going off about something, and not sounding the least bit happy about it. I looked up as I heard the fence he was tied to crash as he pulled against it. I rolled my eyes with exasperation, unwilling to see how this morning could get any worse.
"What the hell?" Jazzy asked, looking out the window.
"I don't know," I said, shaking my head, "but I'll go and find out. Baby, would you want to roll me a cigarette while I do? Before you check on Cat?"
"Yeah," she said back towards me, smiling with annoyance.
"Thanks baby," I said to her as I knelt down and gave her a kiss on her cheek. "You're a peach."
I saw her roll her eyes at me as I grabbed my boots. I threw the big bastards on without tying them, and threw my leather jacket on over my shoulders. Grabbing the smoke from her outstretched hand, I threw her a wink and turned to head outside.
3.
I was drenched instantly when I stepped outside, the downpour soaking and chilling me all the way to my core.
I saw nothing coming out my back door, at least nothing that would constitute the actions of both my dogs. Coming round the corner of my house, what I saw baffled me just as much as what I had seen inside.
My dog, small as he was, seemed much larger than normal, and much more ferocious. Snarling and baring his teeth, I could see small particles of white spittle fly as he barked and snapped his jaws. My eyes widened as he jerked against his cable. The other end pulled hard against the fence, and I saw the post it was attached to sway.
I looked around, trying to establish the cause of his irritation. I saw nothing. Then, in a brief flash of lightning, there it was. At least, what it may have been. There was someone walking down the tracks behind my house. Shambling might have been a better description. Even in the short instant of light, I could see the person was drunk, or high, something, stumbling through the dark and the rain.
What fucking morons.
I threw Fudgie the large beef bone I had grabbed on my way through the kitchen, and to my heads gratitude, watched as he immediately sat down to begin chewing on it. I turned to go back inside, glad he wasn't barking anymore. As my hand hit the back doors knob, I hesitated for the briefest of moments, the image of him only a few moments earlier flashing in my mind. An eerie feeling washed over me, and I looked over my shoulder towards the train tracks. Even with the lightning, I could see nothing.
I shook my head and laughed at myself.
I was a fucking moron.
I opened the door at the same time a large rumble tore through the air. I stopped and looked up at the sky, and, not for the first time in the last week, threw my middle finger up into the air.
4.
I came back into the house to multiple voices speaking. I hung my head down and shook it in exasperation. The thunder must have woken the kids up, either that or my unceremonious crash into the living room floor a few minutes before. No matter the cause, I really didn't want the kids all up at four in the morning.
I threw my jacket onto the hook, water pouring off of it and drenching the porch floor. I then made my way back into the living room, stopping only to grab a towel to help dry my hair. Pulling the curtain back yet again, I was met with a scene of my entire family sitting in the front room, save for our oldest boy, Tyler, who was still in a blessed slumber, and sighed.
No more sleep for Daddy tonight, I thought.
"What's going on?" I asked my old lady when I noticed that she was holding our younger daughter, who was in turn weeping quietly on her shoulder.
"She screamed a minute ago," Crystal answered, stroking her hair. "Woke right up and came in here. Right after you went out. She said she had a bad dream."
"It's going to be a long day." I said. Crystal's only answer was a small smile and a raised eyebrow.
"Hey Eddy, look at this." Jazzy was holding her phone out to me, so I slid onto the couch next to her and grabbed it up. Seth climbed up onto my lap, dropping his head onto my shoulder.
"What is it?" I asked her.
"News cast from last night. It's about Newport."
A little over a month ago, there was an explosion at the military chemical depot right across the state line from us. We had all watched breathlessly, along with most the rest of the city, as the news covered the incident. Military and local departments had contained the blaze within a few hours, but it was not that that had people in a hundred mile area around the depot waiting for news.
Newport Chemical Weapons Depot was an U.S. Army weapons manufacturing and storage facility that had existed since around the start of World War II. Most people in our little slice of Mid-Western Heaven knew little about it, other than it had been the storehouse for the infamous VX nerve agent. It had also, at one time, been a manufacturer of heavy water, a substance used in nuclear weaponry. In 2008, a huge ceremony was held at the site, decommissioning the depot once and for all. For a few years before that, the Army told us that it had been neutralizing the agents stored there.
Or so we had been told.
I hit the play button on my daughter’s phone, and began watching the small woman behind the news desk start to talk.
"Breaking news from Fox 59," she began her face grim. "This reporter is sad to have to tell you that Susan Wright, our very own on site investigative reporter, has been found dead this afternoon in her home here in Indianapolis. Susan had called into the office a week ago to tell our producers that she had found out information regarding the explosion that happened at the Newport Chemical Depot.
"When Susan had not contacted or came into work these last few days, our head producer contacted the authorities, who went to Susan's house.
"Police tell us that the scene appeared to be a routine home invasion and robbery that went horribly wrong. Susan was found on the floor of her kitchen, dead from a gunshot wound to the head. But it was what was discovered later that interested this station most and why we have interrupted your viewing schedule tonight.
"Jerry, would you care to roll the footage?"
I watched the woman disappear and be replaced with a scene that looked like some ones kitchen cabinets. I saw pots hanging from pegs along the wall, and dishes stacked neatly in a dish drainer. I looked over at my daughter questioningly.
"Just wait a sec." Jazzy said, pointing back at her phone.
After a few seconds of staring at naught but cabinets, a blonde woman appeared before the camera. There was a slight delay in her speaking, a jerkiness to her movements, that suggested that the video was captured on a web cam. Though through the whole of the short video the woman looked disheveled and worn, I could see that she was a pretty lady, and guessed that it was the reporter, Susan, the other had spoken of.
When the woman spoke, her words caught my attention, and I knew nothing else.
"I have
n't got much time, Jerry, so listen closely. You know I have been looking into what happened over in Newport, and I found something big. Scratch that, and make it HUGE!"
She looked nervous and tired, the rings under her eyes indicated little to no sleep. She was constantly looking off camera, and her eyes darted this way and that. I could tell she was scared.
"Two days ago I was approached by a soldier that was stationed at Newport Chemical. He said he had information indicating that the explosion that had happened was not an accident, but rather a deliberate act by the U.S. Army under commands of the Federal government. At first I didn't know what to believe Jerry, but the more I talked with this kid, the more I did believe. He was terrified. He told me that the government hadn't decommissioned the depot, but was still using it to store chemical and biological agents, some worse than the VX we all knew about.
"But then he dropped the bombshell.
"He informed me that they were given orders to blow the depot. Apparently the U.S. Army was under instruction to make the incident look like an attack on us by an outside source. I of course, at first, dismissed him as crazy and paranoid. Yet he insisted that he had proof, and that he could bring it to me. We were supposed to meet two days ago, and he never showed.
"But Jerry, someone did. I found him in a bush at the park we were going to meet at. He had been shot dead."
She looked up abruptly and a loud bang could be heard off camera. A second time it sounded, and in a panic, the reporter returned to the camera.
"Jerry, someone is here. They're trying to get in. If you find this, find the truth. It may be the only thing that can save us. The soldier said the explosion released something." Loud banging, like someone trying to break a door down. "That something was never supposed to be released like it was. That something happened during the explosion, and we were all in terrible danger" A loud crash and glass breaking was heard off camera. The reporter was seen reaching down and apparently grabbed the computer, for it tilted crazily. Then the screen went dark.
My Apocalypse (Book 1): The Fall Page 1
