The Last Tribe

by Brad Manuel

  It was the beginning of December.

  An avid cyclist, Paul pulled down one of his bikes to take a ride. The sun was shining, it was a warm late fall day, and Paul needed to see if there were any survivors. He packed a light backpack with two power bars and two bottles of water. He included a handgun he found in a neighbors house, and pedaled towards the city.

  His house was east of Cincinnati in a town called Anderson. Decades before, it was a rural area, but urban sprawl turned it into malls, banks, and subdivisions. Before the plague, Paul commuted 10 miles into the city for work, and with all the people in Anderson doing the same, it could take up to 30 minutes to go those 10 miles.

  As Paul rode towards the city that morning, he made several detours through popular subdivisions. Trash was everywhere. Not the kind of trash he expected to find. Not burned out cars and destruction, but rather regular trash that accumulated over the last months of civilization. When everyone became sick, people stopped working or going outside. Garbage was not picked up. There were mountains of trash as if there was a garbage strike. Birds and other scavengers ripped and picked at the black plastic bags, spreading waste and debris across the lawns. Grass, unmowed for the last four months, grew out of control and went to seed, once manicured lawns were overrun with weeds.

  Every neighborhood Paul visited was the same, no people, mild damage, lots of trash. There were a few houses where the front doors were open, maybe a few windows were broken, but nothing was on fire or showed signs of malice. Paul was sure the open doors and broken windows were from people scavenging for food when the stores went empty.

  After leaving the last subdivision, Paul stopped at a grocery store. He did not expect to find any usable food, and he did not need any, but curiosity made him hop off his bike to take a look.

  Outward appearances told Paul his peek was a lost cause. Several of the large glass bay windows, typical for grocery stores, were broken. Even though it was dark inside, he could see most of the racks were knocked over and empty. There were paper products scattered about, but most, if not all of the food was gone.

  He took a flashlight out of his pack, walked through the broken front window, and strolled through the store. When the disease began late in the summer, and roads were closed, the trucking industry failed. With no one to move or deliver food around the country, stores could only offer their remaining inventories. The food shortage meant groceries were ransacked and vandalized.

  This market was no different. Paul waved a beam up and down the aisles, but he saw no food, no spoiled meat, not even a box of lentils, nothing. Paul grabbed a few packs of batteries from a revolving display toppled on its side, a box of strike anywhere matches, and left.

  He stopped, turned around, and called “Hello?”

  He waited a few seconds, “Is there anyone in there?” Why a person would hide in a ravaged grocery store instead of one of the thousands of abandoned houses, Paul did not know, but he thought he should at least try and find other people. “Hello?” He called out one more time. There was no answer.

  He slung his pack, jumped on his bike, and continued downtown. He passed the baseball and football stadiums, the financial district, the urban neighborhoods, the university area, and ended his ride through a high end area close to the city named Hyde Park. He pedaled slowly, calling out for people with his “hello?” Paul received no response.

  He rode down Observatory, his favorite street in Hyde Park. It was a beautiful road ending at Ault Park, a wonderful public space that he and Rachel visited regularly. Paul rode through one of the 25 most populated cities in the U.S. and did not see a soul. He did not see any signs of life, a light, a fire, or smoke from a chimney. He did not hear a sound, a horn, a gunshot, a car, or a bike bell. He was alone.

  He sat on a stone bench in the park for over an hour. His head was in his hands for much of the time. Why did he not help? He might have prevented all of this, or most of it, if he had just volunteered to have his blood tested for a cure.

  Paul rode back to his house. He took a shower on his deck using his solar shower, a black rubber bag that warmed five gallons of water in the sun and used gravity to dispense the warm water out of a small shower head onto a cold Paul. He decided to pack his things and ride to Hank’s house in Dayton. There was no reason to stay in Cincinnati, and there was no reason to stay locked in his house. The world was over. He had to find a place to survive the winter, and surviving with his brother was going to be easier than surviving alone. He hoped Hank was still alive.

  The next morning he woke up and hitched a baby stroller attachment, scavenged from a neighbor, to his bike. It was like a two wheeled crib with an orange tent over the top, and zipped a child in for rides. Paul loaded it with memorabilia, food, extra clothes, water, etc… He did not know how the roads would be up to Dayton, and decided to travel light and on two wheels. The roads around Cincinnati were clear, but that did not mean he could get a car to Dayton. There could be parked car jams, accidents, road blocks, and bridge destruction. A bike afforded Paul options and the ability to travel between and around obstructions.

  The ride to Hank’s house was about 80 miles. Paul was not sure he could make it in one day. The days were getting shorter, and he was towing a stroller, which would weigh him down. He hoped to be up there by early evening, but picked a few points south of Hank’s as contingency stops.

  Paul took weather forecasts for granted his entire life. What is it going to be like today? Is it going to rain tomorrow? Will a storm blow in? Paul was riding blind to Dayton. For all he knew it could be sunny in the morning before dropping 40 degrees and snowing by the end of the day. It was December in Ohio. When the current warm front would end was a guess for Paul. He hoped the answer was a few days from this morning.

  Paul went into the back yard to say goodbye to Rachel. He cried, made his peace, and stood at the end of his driveway by 9am.

  Paul gave his home of 10 years one last look. He and Rachel had been happy here, blissfully happy. They carved a wonderful life with each other.

  That life was gone. It died with Rachel. He turned and pedaled towards his new life. There was little chance he would ever be as happy again, but whatever lay ahead for him in Hanover was better than living in the shadow of his former life.

  Paul picked up highway 75 North towards Dayton. Unlike the day before, he did not call out in search of others. He put his head down and rode.

  10

  The rapture began in the U.S. on the east coast, ravaging the large cities up and down the sea board before leapfrogging the center of the country to devastate the west coast. Dayton, Ohio did not have a confirmed rapture death until over a month after Raleigh went dark.

  Hank Dixon survived the rapture. His wife and children did not. He married late in life, and his children were adopted from his wife’s previous marriage. None of them carried the cure, or resistance, or what saved Hank and his brothers. Losing his wife was devastating. The death of his four children was soul crushing. Physically Hank was alive. Emotionally he was dead.

  Hank’s neighborhood was relentlessly combed and monitored for rapture resistant survivors. Many of his neighbors were picked up. Visibly sick or not, they were bused to who knows where for who knows what. Hank’s family died early. They were five of the first confirmed cases. As soon as he had a plan with his brothers, Hank burned his house to give it the appearance that it was destroyed during looting.

  He set the southern side of his house on fire, charred the east and west, and scorched the north side. He control burned the inside, taking out the top floor, and marring the walls, floors, and staircase. He kept the basement free from harm, the first floor structurally sound, and the roof weather proof.

  Hank moved into his basement, hiding under his apparently destroyed house. He collected water from a hose he ran from his downspout into two rain barrels, and scavenged enough food for the two months he planned to live underground.

  He knew everyone would die. He just needed t
o wait them out, or not.

  Hank held a revolver in his hand the first month. He had it to his head or in his mouth most evenings. He alternated between the revolver and a shotgun as he debated joining his family in heaven or his brothers in New Hampshire.

  He stopped eating. The pounds he accumulated through decades of bad food melted off his body.

  Hank was not a drinker. He did not seek solace in a bottle or through drugs. He was not a man of faith, and could not pray his pain away. He lived with his anguish. He stared at the grave markers twenty feet from the basement dormer window, and he held a gun to his head while he tried to think of reasons not to kill himself.

  Hank could think of only one.

  Hank believed his lost teenage nephew, Greg Dixon, was alive and in peril. Without knowing and through no action of his own, Greg Dixon saved his uncle’s life.

  Hank emerged from his basement when his crank radio remained silent for weeks. He was pale, filthy, smelled like a dirty sock, and wanted desperately to talk to someone. Despite the time of year and the insanity of his plan, Hank prepared for his rescue trip to New Hampshire.

  Hank exited the basement with his first stroke of luck since the rapture began.

  “Hank?” A voice called out to the disgusting man. “Holy crap are you thin. You must be down 100 pounds.”

  Paul stood over a bike having pedaled the 80 miles from Cincinnati. He was soaked with sweat, and panted as he spoke.

  The men walked towards each other and embraced in a strong hug, weeping with joy.

  “Okay,” Paul said through tears as he stepped away from Hank. “I’m prepared to stay here, but only if we find you a shower. You really, really smell.”

  “We’re not staying here.” Hank told his brother. “I have to get to New Hampshire to help Greg.”

  Paul replied with a laugh. “Are you crazy? It’s the middle of December. We won’t make it through Pennsylvania. No, we find a house here. We stay safe here, and move in the spring. We’re no good to anyone dead. For all we know, John and his boys are already in Hanover with Greg.”

  Hank spoke in a firm and even tone, leaving no room for argument. “You can do what you want. I’m taking a shower, and I’m going to find Greg.”

  11

  Todd spoke to his brother John by phone one last time in September. They connected an hour after the brothers’ agreement to meet in Hanover. Todd no longer travelled away from his home to use a dead stranger’s cell phone. He called from his living room. Todd assumed and hoped the government and military were too busy to care about a single survivor in Raleigh.

  “What’s your plan?” Todd asked his brother bluntly. “You have to find Greg, right? Do you want to leave Matt and Craig, or maybe just Craig with me? “

  “If I leave one or two of my sons with you, I’m in the same situation I’m in now. Greg is heading to Hanover as soon as he can. I can’t risk all of our lives to get up there. If I leave now, we’d get caught and experimented on. If I wait the 2-3 months I assume it will take for everyone to die, it will be winter and I risk dying on the trip. I have to wait.” John was resolute in his decision, even though it meant leaving Greg on his own for a harsh New England winter.

  “Then what is your plan for coming here from Charleston? Do you want to make the trip to Hanover together? I have young kids. I could use your help and the help of your boys.” Todd could make it on his own, he and Emily were strong. He had two good kids, but the trip north would be easier with three additional people.

  “I’ll be there in April, maybe March if it’s warm, but let’s count on April. Things have started to calm down around here. I’m going to keep the boys in the house and lay low for the next few months.” John’s voice was tense, worried, scared.

  Todd tried to assure him. “I don’t hear planes unless they are very high in the sky. I’ll hold on until April. I won’t think about leaving until May. We’ll go up together. I’m only 30 minutes out of your way.” Todd added a laugh to the last comment. He heard John chuckle in response, but it was hollow. There was no humor in the situation for John and his boys.

  “If the phones go dead before we can talk again, I’ll see you in April. Leave a note at your house if you leave earlier.” John cleared his throat. “Love you, brother.”

  “Love you too, John.“

  Todd hung up the phone and turned to Emily. “We have six or seven months.“

  “Let’s wait another two weeks and start exploring. I know we’ve talked about staying in the attic and living bunker style, but I don’t think that will be necessary. Do you? It will start to get cold at night. We’ll need the fireplace in the living room for warmth.” Emily was bored. She kept the kids home since the outbreak started in July. There had not been another sound in Raleigh since the beginning of August.

  Her children were tired of their yard and watching DVD’s. The neighbor’s pool was too cold to use, dropping to the low 70’s as the nights grew longer. Emily and her kids needed to get out.

  “I think it will be over everywhere soon, it just happened here first, so it ended here first.” Todd patted her knee. They embraced, holding each other for several minutes.

  “Let’s get some sleep, and we’ll see what tomorrow brings.” He whispered into her ear. They went up to their bedroom hand in hand, checked on their children, and went to sleep.

  Brazil was the first country to have the disease, experiencing a mini-outbreak with 100 people dying within one week of each other. It was thought to be the flu, a deadly strain of the flu, but nothing beyond extra hand washing and “don’t touch your eyes and nose” advice was issued by governments.

  When similar cases occurred in three Asian countries, Nigeria, and Ireland, the alarm bells went off globally. The first person died in Raleigh two weeks after the first person died in Sao Paulo. The rapture was worldwide, and more importantly, it was stateside.

  For the next two weeks, while the world panicked and struggled to contain a rapidly spreading pandemic, Raleigh, North Carolina was the only U.S. city with confirmed cases.

  Scientists retrofitted ideas to explain the symptoms and outcomes, trying to calm the public. The Raleigh outbreak occurred one week after the State Fair. All of the confirmed cases attended or could be connected to a person who attended the fair. Some ‘concluded’ the rapture was an animal transmitted flu, similar to swine or mad cow. Another theory believed it was a mutated canine or feline illness, possibly an airborne version of rabies, explaining why domestic dogs and cats perished during the epidemic.

  Others believed companies operating out the Raleigh’s Research Triangle Park made trips to Brazil, were exposed to “the rapture” as it was being called, and brought it back to Raleigh. This theory in particular allowed the U.S. government to believe the disease could be contained.

  Few people knew the truth. The Research Triangle companies brought the rapture back from Brazil 12-18 months prior to the actual outbreak. Containment was not possible, every person in the U.S. had already been exposed, and the incubation period was over.

  Panic did not begin with the first confirmed case in Raleigh, but after one week and more 1, 500 dead North Carolinians, panic was too mild a word. Throughout the country, daycares, schools, restaurants, and stores closed. Public events were cancelled. Downtown streets, typically filled with people, were empty. It was not the 1,500 people dead in Raleigh, it was the 100,000 dead around the world and the millions suffering from symptoms, that caused hysteria.

  The entire population of Raleigh was mandated to leave. Similar to a hurricane evacuation, people were ordered to go somewhere else, anywhere safe. All of the roads heading out of town were jammed with cars for three days. If a person’s temperature was 1 degree above 98.6, Center for Disease Control officials, as well as U.S. military officials stationed on every road, directed the car to a containment area.

  Todd stayed in Raleigh because he was afraid of the containment areas. He grew up watching pandemic and outbreak movies in which the
government was typically a villain. Todd feared Jay would be taken from them, sequestered, hidden, and lost. If his son was going to die, he would die with his parents and brother, not in some cold quarantine room.

  No healthy citizens remained within 100 miles of Raleigh. The residents fled without shopping or looting the stores, packing only clothes in expectation they would soon return home. Food and bottled water sat in pantries and kitchens across the area. Supermarket, big box stores, and warehouse clubs were abandoned, still fully stocked.

  Todd and Emily made smart choices during the weeks of panic. They stayed home, stopped using lights, and powered down their cell phones. They stocked food, used rain barrels to collect water, and prepared for at least two months of solitude. Jay’s benign summer flu, which made them stay in Raleigh when everyone else fled, was a stroke of luck.

  When the rapture struck outside of Raleigh, the government did not have the means to handle an epidemic in every state, city, and town. Just a few months into the pandemic, world governments and militaries collapsed.

  While the globe exploded into hysteria, violence, and looting, the Dixons lived comfortably in their house, safely hidden in the empty city of Raleigh, North Carolina.

  12

  Greg walked for what felt like hours after he left Ms. Berry’s house. He quickly made it to US 495 and then to US 93 North. He was cold and scared in the half-moon light. Despite what he thought was a quick pace, he was moving slowly and looking around too often. The adrenaline rush of starting his journey wore off, and he was exhausted by midnight.

  He was on an overpass when he came upon a large sports utility vehicle abandoned on the side of the road. A white towel dangled from the driver’s side window. Moonlight showed the car was empty. Greg tried all the doors, and as luck would have it, one was unlocked. Exhausted from just two hours of travelling, he decided to take a quick nap inside. He folded the back seats down, crawled inside, unfurled his sleeping bag, and fell asleep instantly.