When we backed into my driveway, I noticed a black Jeep SUV sitting in front of my garage. I secured the gate and went to investigate. Albert came out the back door and greeted me with a wave. I realized that it was Dawn’s vehicle from across the street. I wanted to get the propane unloaded and had Albert help me. How we acquired another vehicle could wait.
As we carried the last propane cylinder around our new vehicle and into the garage, I told Albert that I was surprised the battery in the Jeep still worked. He told me it didn’t so he had gone to where we stashed the gardening truck and took the battery out of that.
“What happened to not leaving Grace alone?” I asked.
Albert looked at me sheepishly and replied, “I didn’t leave her alone.”
“You took her outside with you?” I asked, incredulously.
We set down the forty-pound cylinder and stared at each other.
“Why didn’t you just take the damn dog with you as well?” I remarked. Albert continued to stare at me, his face flushing.
“You took Chloe? What the hell were you thinking?” My last comment was a little loud and we both stopped and listened to see if I had attracted any attention.
Satisfied, I turned back to Albert, whispering this time. “Albert, are you nuts?”
Albert took a deep breath and replied, “I was careful. And if you’re ever gone again and we need to have a vehicle...”
Albert’s mouth worked but no sounds came out. I’m sure he had thought of a great argument for me in his head, but of course, your own ideas always seems logical until you have to actually explain them to someone else.
I wasn’t actually as mad as I was shocked. Albert was so protective of Grace. As I thought about it more, I realized that if the fires kept moving this way we might be forced to leave here for good. Maybe it’s better to expose Grace to the outside once in a while. I was a little pissed that he took Chloe, but I guess the same rules apply to her as well.
Either way, we now have two working vehicles again. DAY 37
Strong winds blew most of the night. This morning the smoky haze was worse than ever. We checked the radio and turned on the generator to check to see if any TV stations were broadcasting. Still can’t get on the Internet either.
The only broadcast is Wayne’s. He added a new twist to his demented propaganda. I won’t go into the details, suffice it to say he is blaming us for the “worst fires in the history of southern California.” It’s funny; I was thinking they might be his fault. I only lasted through five minutes of his ranting before I turned the radio off.
When I went to retrieve water from the pool to fill the toilet tanks, I saw a film of ash covering the water’s surface.
At lunch, we discussed what we will do in the event that the fires continue to move our direction. We talked about the options of north (northern California or points further), south (Mexico), or east (Nevada or Arizona).
None of us considered staying in the area. For me, Wayne and his goons have a lot to do with that. Although nobody voiced it, I think we are all secretly hoping that there is a normal world somewhere out there.
We pretty much unanimously ruled out Mexico, due to the huge population (probably all undead) there. Neither Nevada nor Arizona really appealed to us, due to water and food issues (although the desert is probably the safest place on earth right now). I figured we had settled on north until Albert said, “What about west?”
Alison and I looked at him like he was stupid.
“That would be great if any of us knew how to sail a boat.” Alison said. Albert looked at us, blinking. “I can sail.” he said simply.
And just like that, a whole new possibility opened up to us. When I asked him where he learned to sail, he reminded me that he grew up in Manila and that his dad was a fisherman. Albert had told me about his childhood a few years ago when we were on patrol together, but I had filed it in the “useless information” category and had forgotten about it.
Later, I went up on the roof to get a view of our situation. The skies were red, and the wind was coming out of the north carrying ash with it. I couldn’t see the fires, but the smoke was everywhere. I had a sick feeling in my gut.
Albert came up on the roof and stood with me, shaking his head as he looked around. “We were arguing about moving to a bigger house.” He said, randomly.
I looked at him and raised my eyebrow. I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Alison and I were arguing about moving to a bigger house yesterday morning when you walked in on us.” he began. “She thought we should move to a big house so you could have a bedroom again and I told her you’d never want to leave this place because it’s yours. I told her if she felt that strongly about it she should give you her room and she could sleep on the couch.”
“Or, you could give me back my room and you could sleep on the couch.” I said.
Albert looked at me, ashamed. He opened his mouth to speak, but I started laughing. He stared at me with his mouth open and then slugged me in the arm.
He smiled with me for a minute, then looked at me somberly and said, “We may have to leave. You know that, right?”
I nodded. That was what had been bothering me so much. I was more than likely never going to see this place again. Albert, Alison, even Grace had been permanently displaced from everything they ever knew, and now it was my turn. I have a new respect for my companions.
DAY 38
It is only a matter of time now.
The fires in North Hollywood are burning out of control. Albert and I went out this morning and climbed a stairwell to the roof of a five-story apartment building nearby. From there we could see up Vineland Avenue and across sections of Magnolia Boulevard. The Academy of Arts and Science Building and its adjacent apartments are blazing infernos.
We watched as the corner building on Lankershim Boulevard. collapsed from view into a cloud of smoke and debris. It reminded me of the twin towers falling on 9/11. The tops of all the palm trees along the street look like giant lit tiki torches.
We could feel the heat in the wind. We witnessed scores of undead racing toward the conflagration. I didn’t see any of them actually run into the fires, but they were extremely agitated by them. I had seen enough.
On the way home, we passed dozens of undead. Only a few of them actually came after us. They were all drawn to the flames.
At home, I pulled out a map of North Hollywood and the surrounding areas. Based on calculating twelve blocks to a mile, the fires are a little less than a mile away. The flames seem to be moving south at a rate of about four blocks a day. Unless the winds shift, they will be here in less than seventy two hours.
I sat everyone down and told them we are going to have to leave. My chest tightened as I said it. I looked around my house. I have lived here for nine years and I spent every summer here with my Aunt since I was seven. There are a lot of memories here. I am going to miss this place.
We spent the afternoon figuring out how much we could take with us. Although Albert and Alison both wanted to take one vehicle, I convinced them that we should take both of them in case one breaks down or gets stuck. We can take more supplies with two vehicles as well.
We have all agreed that we will drive to Marina Del Rey and try to find a boat. Whether we secure one or not, we are going to head north. If we are forced to drive, the Pacific Coast highway will take us as far as we want. Our route to the marina will take us over Laurel Canyon, across Mulholland drive, and down the 405 freeway to the 90 and into the marina.
Our list of supplies (not complete) will include:
All of my firearms and ammunition
Every knife I own (including kitchen knives), 2 sharpening stones
Propane camp stove with 2 five-pound cylinders
Cooking pots and utensils, 4 stainless steel bowls
Blankets and my 2 sle
eping bags, towels, tarp
Camp gear (including compass, fire starting tools, canteens, etc…)
Flashlights, batteries, supply of candles
Tool box with all hand tools, cordless drill, cordless circular saw, screws, nails
Shovel, axe
Car battery recharger, fuel transfer pump, siphons and funnel
All of our spare fuel
All of our soap, sundries, toothpaste, TP, etc…
28 gallons of potable water
4 cases (96 cans) of canned goods (soups, fruits, etc…)
All cans and bags of dog food
4 cases of freeze dried foods, + mac & cheese and Ramen
1 box of spices, salt, pepper, curry, etc…)
2 fully stocked first aid kits, meds, sewing kit
Every foot of rope and cord we can find
Heavy coats, gloves, boots, 3 sets of clothes
Explosive compounds packed in two separate containers,
6 pre-made grenades
1 box containing glues, epoxy, duct tape, cloth tape,
black spray paint, etc…)
Cleaning kit and lubricant for firearms
For personal items, we agreed to one duffle bag each. Albert, Grace, and Alison do not have much other than their clothes (and some toys for Grace), but this will be especially tough for me. When I inherited this house, my Aunt’s book collection was left to me as well. She taught me the value and sanctity of literature.
On my shelf in the living room are over eight hundred books, many of them first editions. The thought of these works being destroyed by fire, in a world where there may not be another book ever printed again, fills me with sadness beyond description. I spent several hours cleaning out my old Meilink fire safe and packing the rarer editions in it. I was only able to fit eighty-four books inside. It is not enough.
I packed another fifty-eight books in plastic garbage bags and sealed them in an airtight plastic storage container. I dug a hole in the back yard almost five feet deep and laid the container in the bottom. I packed a row of bricks on top and buried it.
I can only take eight books with me…I know this sounds idiotic, but choosing those eight books was one of the hardest decisions I have ever made in my life. These were chosen not just because most are first editions, but because they represent my thoughts and values. They are;
Tarzan of the Apes (Burroughs)
1838 ed. of Robinson Crusoe (Defoe)
The Lost World (Doyle)
King Solomon’s Mines (Haggard)
1984 (Orwell)
Treasure Island (Stevenson)
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (Verne)
Island of Dr. Moreau (Wells)
I am taking my two pamphlets on explosives and silencers as well. We packed well into the night. Tomorrow, first thing, we will pack everything into our vehicles.
DAY 39
The ash is falling like snow.
The skies are red and the acrid, sweet smell of wood smoke is everywhere. I can hear the trees and buildings burning several blocks away. We may be out of time. It took us several hours of experimenting to fit everything in our vehicles. It will be a tight fit. The gas cans and propane tanks went on the roof racks. Everything else got packed into labeled plastic storage bins or duffle bags, and shoved in the back.
Chloe is a nervous wreck. I think she must sense disaster nearby. We had to keep her locked up in the bedroom most of the day.
The undead are in a frenzy. We have seen them sprinting erratically toward the fires, wailing horribly. At one point, I could hear something banging two yards over. I finally went to investigate and found an infected man slamming his body repeatedly into the fence in an attempt to escape and run toward the fire. I shot him in the head to shut him up. What I wouldn’t have given to do this to my annoying neighbors six months ago.
I came back to find Albert digging a hole not far from where I buried my books. He told me that we had a lot of excess food that we couldn’t take with us. I am a little ashamed of myself. I’m sure future generations would rather find something to eat rather than read. I helped him finish the hole.
We were completely packed by 6:30 p.m. The winds have died down and the fires don’t seem to be any closer, but the air quality is retched. We have been wearing water soaked bandanas over our noses and mouths so we don’t breathe in the ash.
We are each going to take three hour watch shifts (except for Grace, of course) and try to get some sleep before we leave in the morning.
DAY 40
I awoke this morning at 2:27 a.m. to the deafening high-pitched shriek of my smoke alarm going off. I leapt off the couch and looked around frantically; my heart pounding in my chest, but still half asleep. I immediately started coughing and realized the smell of smoke was heavy in the house.
I tripped over Chloe, who was panicking right along with me, and stumbled to the hallway and the source of my rude awakening. I jumped up and batted at the alarm, finally knocking it off the wall. I pounced on it and pushed and pulled at the housing, trying to shut it off. I finally resorted to bashing it into the floor, like some primate trying to open a coconut. It went silent.
Without thinking, I pulled the 9-volt battery out. I was sure we would need it at some point. I was so focused on the alarm itself that I didn’t even think about its significance until Alison emerged from her room, her eyes wide.
“Is the house on fire?” she asked, fighting down her panic.
I stood up and looked around. I told her that Albert was on the roof and that I was sure he would have woken us up if we were in danger, but the smoke was pretty thick and I could hear the fires outside.
I told Alison to get Grace dressed, pulled on my boots and went outside. Chloe went racing past me and ran through the yard looking for an escape. The smoke and ash was everywhere and the glow of fire lit up the backyard. The neighborhood was on fire. A wall of flames rose up over the houses five doors down.
I scrambled up the ladder to the roof. The winds were hot and dry. I could barely breathe. I pulled the collar of my thermal shirt up over my nose and crossed the roof. Albert was dead asleep, curled up in a fetal position. I kicked him (harder than I intended) and screamed at him to wake up. There was no need for silence now, as the roar of the fires were deafening.
Albert jolted awake and sat up, his glasses skewed at an odd angle on his face. He reset his glasses and rubbed his cheeks, trying to wake up. He looked around and his eyes widened.
“Oh, shit!” he exclaimed.
“What the f--k, Albert?” I yelled.
As much as I try not to cuss, sometimes no other words will do.
Albert rose unsteadily to his feet. I could tell he was lightheaded from the smoldering fumes. I went first and helped him down the ladder as best I could. He slipped halfway down and we both fell the last six feet to the ground. Chloe appeared and jammed her wet nose into my face, pawing at me frantically. I grabbed her before she could get away and put her into the Yukon, leaving her there.
Albert was on his feet and looked at me dejectedly. I told him not to worry about it and to just get ready to go.
I didn’t know how sharp Albert was so I gave Alison the keys to the Jeep and watched as she belted Grace in to the passenger seat. Grace was scared and crying, disoriented like the rest of us.
I put Albert in the Yukon (and caught Chloe before she could bolt out) and shut the door. He let me know his bag was still in his room so I went to go get it, and anything else we needed. I went through the rooms one by one, the sense of urgency making me rush.
At the kitchen door, I stopped and looked back. This was the last time I would ever see my home again. Even in the hazy smoke it looked peaceful and quiet. I closed my eyes to hold onto the memory and then turned and opened the door.
I had only been inside for a couple of
minutes but as the door opened, I felt the blast furnace heat assault me. I got into my truck, pushing Chloe away from me, and started the engine. I picked up the walkie and called Alison. She responded that she was ready.
I pulled forward to the gate, opened it with the remote, and pulled onto the street. Alison followed. In the rearview mirror I could see the tops of the trees in flames.
We drove west on Riverside to Laurel Canyon and turned south, heading up toward Mulholland drive. The undead were everywhere. I hit two of them and kept going. I kept an eye on the Jeep in my mirror. Alison was a champ and stayed close behind.
Albert looked down at his feet, mumbling apologies over and over. I was sympathetic but annoyed with him as well.
“Quit beating yourself up. We’re ok.” I finally said.
Albert looked at me, his eyes red-rimmed. “I almost got us killed.” He replied.
“Yeah, well, horseshoes and hand grenades, man.” I responded. We drove in silence as I led our little caravan up over Mulholland drive.
At 3:45 a.m. we made our way slowly onto the 405 freeway headed south. Abandoned vehicles and even a few semi-trucks littered the road. I drove cautiously, scanning for any signs of movement in the darkness. On several occasions, we passed infected people trapped in their cars. Their movements were feeble and listless. They are probably starving.
As we passed the Wilshire exit I saw what looked like candlelight coming from the top floor window of a medical building. Alison came on the radio and asked if I had seen it. We speculated that there is probably someone alive there.
I had mixed feelings about that. On one hand, I wanted to connect with whoever it was for some reason, maybe kinship, I don’t know. On the other hand, memories of Wayne and his goons are still fresh in my mind.
We took the 90 freeway west to the marina. It was still dark when we arrived. We skirted the marina on Admiralty Way and then turned onto Palawan Way and into the marina proper. The gate was closed at the entrance to the yacht club. I nosed my Yukon up to the gate and moved forward. The gate buckled slightly and gave way. My truck pushed the gate aside.
We stopped in the parking lot in front of the yacht club. Abandoned cars, their doors askew, coolers, and clothing littered about all stood as mute testimony to the chaos that had transpired here. There were several bodies lying on the ground, but no signs of the undead.
100 Days of Death Page 16
