by Lynn Lamb
“Only since the minute you put those things up,” I retorted.
“Well, here I go. Enjoy your new view,” he said.
“Ahh!” we both yelled in unison.
A bright, white light shone in through the broken window. Had the world become brighter, or were our eyes that unused to natural light? I hope it is the latter.
The air was brisk as it rushed over my skin. I closed my eyes and breathed it in deeply. The stench of our house had gradually become worse, but we had been getting used to it. Now, juxtaposed with the cool, “fresh” air, I don’t think I could ever go back to living that way. From my lips, to God’s ears, the saying came to me from my early upbringing.
I called Annie into our room. She winced at the light, but had the same reaction we had had to the great outdoors.
The three of us stood in front of the window, eyes closed, and just breathed. We were holding hands. Tears rolled down my face.
While Mark finished with the windows and doors, I got ready for what was going to be a very long day.
An hour and a half later, we were all standing at the front door, hesitant to go out. It still seemed taboo. I took the initiative and crossed the threshold. We were leaving in plenty of time, so we stood there until our eyes adjusted to the sun light.
When they did adjust, we were in for a startling view. The beautiful brick staircase in front of Annie’s house leading to the street level was destroyed. The hillside that lay on either side, the one that contained a beautiful garden, thirty years in the making, had completely eroded. Only one rose bush remained. It bowed its head in shame.
I cautiously looked over at Annie, waiting for her reaction. She simply grabbed the existing railing and began to hoist herself up the hill. In shock at her nonchalant reaction, Mark, Hershey and I followed.
The street level view was no different. The road had buckled some, but was still drivable if you were careful. One of the houses down the street had completely slipped off of its stilts and had slid down the hill. It was still right side up, but I wasn’t sure that anyone could be living in it like it was. The windows were still boarded up.
I looked out at what had been Monterey, my Monterey. The previously tree-obscured view was now open. The trees had mostly fallen, but that was not really what had my attention.
The greatest shock came when my eyes finally adjusted to the day light. The sky was gritty, like after a forest fire. The filthy layers floated above us, casting an eerie orange hue over everything in sight. Even though it had been weeks since the bombs hit us, there was still ash floating visibly through the air. It scorched my nostrils and my eyes watered furiously trying to rid themselves from the scratchy, burning sensation. When I took one big breath, my lungs squeezed tightly, causing me to break into a coughing fit.
Everything, as far as the eye could see, was affected in one way or the other. Some buildings were completely flattened and almost all of them had broken windows. But my neighborhood, while broken, was not destroyed. It looked like it was the only one.
Breathing deeply to keep back an ensuing panic, I headed down the hill to the home of my dear friends, Jill and Joseph. I suppose no one who remained would ever again be able to say that they didn’t know their neighbors.
As we approached the apex of the hill we lived on, I saw Jill, her hand over her visor, still having difficulty seeing. I ran to her, screaming her name.
“Sweetie,” She took me into her embrace. “You are a sight for sore eyes, literally,” she said with a chuckle.
I bent over to deliver a kiss to Joseph’s cheek.
“Hello, sweet girl. We couldn’t wait to see you,” he said. How things had changed in a month.
Mark came up behind me with his hand lowered into a hearty hand shake with Joseph, while Annie and Jill hugged and cried.
The six of us started towards the Elk’s Lodge, with Mark controlling Joseph’s wheelchair down the hill. As we went, we saw a couple of our neighbor’s acting out the same reunion that we just had. I didn’t recognize some of them, but I raised my arm and waved a big hello. They returned the same.
My little tribe was the first to make it to the Lodge. We wanted to get down there early and check on its condition. The windows had been blasted out, as we had expected, but it was better than most buildings we could see. It helped that it sat in a small valley, but was on flat ground and surrounded by that huge parking lot.
When we got to the building, we spread out and looked inside the open windows. Some of the furniture seemed to have made it through with minimal damage and the kitchen looked great, considering.
We carefully passed the broken glass and went inside. On the left of the entry was one of those rolling metal chair racks, with around thirty folding chairs still hanging on. Jill and I each took a corner and rolled it outside toward where Joseph waited.
“This is a good start,” I said. “I think everyone will be happy to have the meeting out here, anyway. We’ll get a group together to clean up inside right away.”
We proceeded to set up the chairs facing away from the warming sun. Mark went back inside and emerged with a rolling, wooden platform that functioned like a stage. I ran over and helped him move it to rest in front of the chairs. Next, he brought out a dry wipe board with some markers. This place was perfect for meetings. I guess I knew that when I went to talk to Ed No-Last Name that day.
I went inside to scope out what else we could use. I came to an office, and on the heavy desk still stood a wooden name plaque. Ed Smith. Smith, it figures. “You will always be Ed No-Last-Name to me,” I said out loud.
I rejoined the growing group, and sat in a chair that had been placed on the stage. Hershey, who had followed us the whole way, took his place beside me, but rather than lying down at my feet, he sat and watched as the people filed in. He acted like all of these people were coming together to see him; that he was in charge. Part of me wishes he were.
I watched each face as it came down the hill and toward the crowd. Even though there was so much destruction in our midst, almost everyone had a smile on their face when they viewed the gathering of their living neighbors.
At exactly 9:00 A.M., we started our first in-person meeting under the dark orange and gray skies.
“Hello,” I stood and spoke in the loudest voice I could muster. As I did, I saw the Colonel make his way down the hill in his fatigues and dark sun glasses. He was the last to join us, of course.
I was surprised that he was actually rather good looking for his age. I had only seen him once, driving by us before the attacks. He shook Mark’s hand as he politely stood to greet him. And when he stood by Mark, I was surprised at how much shorter he was than my husband.
“For those of you who recognize the voice, but not the face, I’m Laura Balous and I can’t tell you how happy I am to see every single one of you.”
An unexpected cheer rose from over forty of our neighbors. They came in all different shapes, colors, sizes and ages, and every single one of them was a beautiful survivor. I had to stop and compose myself before going on.
“Sorry, just a little farklempt,” I said with a smile, my hand to my throat. A little cautious laughter came from my audience.
“Most of us probably never thought that we would make it to this day. We have all been released from our tombs,” I waited while they let out a bigger, knowing cheer. “I know that things don’t look the same anymore. As much as we tried, we could not have prepared ourselves for this.” I felt the mood change as my words became serious.
I continued, “And although we have not been able to look each other in the eye during this time, we have surely pulled each other through our darkest hours until this moment. We have been each other’s support, teachers, friends, and family. I can’t wait to get to know each one of you personally.” Again, the loud cheers came, this time with a roar.
I had been practicing the speech nervously in front of the mirror all week, but as I stood there, my stage fright disappeared. Th
e faces looking up at me were warm and understanding. They were also the faces of people who were desperately looking for someone to lead them. Simply put, they wanted to trust me, so they did.
“As I look out over the scorched and broken landscape that used to be our beautiful home, I hurt. And I know you do, too. As far as the big picture, I am not sure where exactly we go from here. I can’t tell you that we can clean this all up and make it just the way it was. You know that, too.
“What I can tell you is that if we work together, we might survive for a while. And I can only hope that we might even find a way to continue to do so into the future,” I looked at the faces that now wore a hint of disappointment. They wanted me to tell them that we will do more than just survive; they wanted me to tell them that everything is going to be just as it once was. I wouldn’t lie to them.
“I don’t need to tell you to not give up hope. If you had, you wouldn’t be sitting here today. We all survived our first test, but I suspect that is just one of many more. But just because we made it through the dark and back into the light, it does not mean that we are destined to continue. All we can do is work hard, and work smart.
“So, today we will be breaking into smaller groups so that we can get right down to business. Lizzie and I compiled a bio of each member of the neighborhood, and from that we placed you all into groups where it made sense. These lists will be taped to the wall of the building. I know that this has been called ‘The Elk’s Lodge,’ but now it will be called ‘Town Hall.’” I handed the lists in my hand to Lizzie.
“Now, I would like to introduce you to Colonel Phillip Jackson. He has been an important part of us all coming together,” I said. Jackson walked up on stage, shook my hand and gave me a strange look. Do I look different than he thought I would? I thought he said he had seen Mark and I before.
Just before he began to speak, he turned and stared into the distance. I followed his gaze until I saw what looked like a small parade of ants in the distance. As if on cue, our audience craned their necks and gasped.
It was people, more survivors.
They had heard our noise, the noises of life, and had begun to come out of their homes and make their way toward us. They were dirty, disheveled and bewildered, but they were alive.
“Come,” I screamed out. And they did.
~~~
Now, in front of an audience of at least eighty-five people, I stood. I was dumbfounded; unable to speak.
“Hello, neighbors,” said the Colonel. He seemed unfazed by the large number of people who had joined us. Had he expected them? “I am Phillip Jackson, and this is Laura Balous. She has been leading a group of us using walkie-talkie channels from our homes. Please join us.” I don’t think that the fact that he left out that he was a colonel in the army was an oversight.
Mark had already started to bring out some more folding chairs with some of our others. He beckoned them to sit down, and with startled glances at our group, they did.
I composed myself and continued on. “Welcome, neighbors and friends. Please have a seat. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you.”
And I was.
~~~
For the next hour, I did my best to update our new arrivals on what had occurred with our group over the last month. Most of them sat motionlessly, some cried. I can’t imagine what these poor people had been through. It goes to show you, that no matter how bad off you think you are there is probably someone who is still worse.
We broke into the groups that I was trying to convene earlier.
The group of about ten, all of whom belonged to our original walkie group, comprised of most of the Council. They followed me to the house below ours that belonged to the Rajas, as we no longer had a front entrance. We broke through a portion of the back fence that still stood and made our way up more stairs to the living room that held my family’s food, water and emergency supplies.
“Wow, I knew you were ready, but not like this,” said Lizzie.
“Please, help yourself to some water and crackers,” I said.
My mother, who had once been concerned about inviting Jill over for one dinner, happily handed out the cups.
Once everyone settled in, we began.
“I hope you all enjoyed your crackers and water. Can you imagine if this were served as refreshments before?” I started with a joke. There was polite laughter in response. “There goes my stand-up comedy career.” This time there was actual laughter.
“The Colonel will start this meeting. Apparently, he didn’t clean his bachelor pad, so I invited you here. And, without further ado, Mr. Jackson,” I said in my best MC voice.
“You never know, Laura. Maybe this leadership position won’t work out,” he jabbed back at me. The group laughed. Only I realized this might not have been meant as a joke.
“You all saw how many new people joined us today. If my suspicions are correct, we have at least that many people who are still too afraid to leave their homes. We have several problems with this. First, we don’t know who is afraid of the environment and/or enemies lurking around, and, second, which homes contain only the dead,” he said more bluntly than I was ready for.
I hadn’t thought of that. I have never seen a dead body, and I would like to get around seeing them now, but something tells me that’s unavoidable anymore.
Jackson ignored the expression I realized I must be wearing and continued. “This is going to be a two-pronged attack,” he stated. I didn’t think that the word “attack” was appropriate, but I didn’t interrupt.
“First, we need to get out there and get noticed so people will know we are here. After we have lured as many people out of their homes…” he continued. Strike two on word choices. We are not going to “lure” people out.
Jackson handed me a printed script. “Here is what we are going to say using bullhorns. I have my daughter’s bullhorn from cheerleading, and believe it or not, we had two more on our ‘assets’ list. That makes three bullhorns. We have one golf cart from Mr. Gianluca, and two motorcycles to use. I am hoping that people will hear the motorcycle engines and curiosity will get the better of them.”
Jackson has a kid?
“Liz, would you please add Jackson’s printer, the generator he must have used for power when he printed these, and his bullhorn to the list of assets?” I asked.
He continued. “We will be using this script to try and get their attention:
“We are United States citizens. We are assembling to rebuild. We are not the enemy. Please come out and we will take your information.”
That was awful. Strike three.
“I will have a revised script in the morning,” I said. Jackson looked surprised, but if he wanted me to do this job, I had to do it right.
But he quickly took back the reigns. “I will be in the golf cart with Ms. Balous. On the motorcycles will be Matt driving and Shelby with bullhorn on back, and on the other will be Samantha driving and Carrie using the bullhorn on back. Here are your mapped out routes.” He handed me one.
I looked up at Mark to see his reaction to not being part of the outreach party. For a minute, I thought I saw steam coming out of his ears. I knew it was not just about being left out of an adventure around the neighborhood.
I thought it best that I scold him again. “And once more, Lizzie, would you please update our asset list? This time, add one mapping computer program,” I said. This is just work, plain and simple.
The group we had assembled at our house was made up of many of our most trusted members, thus making up the Council. They were the inner circle, at least for the moment. However, the Doc and Katie, Jill and Joseph had their own groups to contend with.
Katie and Malcom were hosting the Committee of Medical Professionals. Between the new group of walkie-talkie people the Colonel had found a couple of weeks ago and the stunned refugees that we just welcomed this morning, there were over a half dozen with some type of medical background. That’s not surprising, considering how clo
se to the hospital we lived. They ranged from oncologists to radiologists, with several nurses and two ER docs. My heart sung Hallelujah when I discovered this.
I put Jill and Matt in charge of the Rebuilding Committee. With her background in architecture and his in construction, they made the most sense. I am not sure why, but the Monte Vista neighborhood had a nicely sized population of people in construction. And from what I saw today, we are going to need it.
After the committees had adjourned for lunch in everyone’s own home, Annie, Mark and I fell on the couches at basically the same moment, causing us all to laugh. We were already tired, and we were just getting started.
Several other committees were going to meet after lunch. Annie was looking forward to leading her Food Committee. That is when Mark, Jackson, Lizzie and I were going to really survey the neighborhood.
Fortified with a lunch of cold canned potatoes for carbohydrates, Mark and I made our way out again. We meet with Jackson and Lizzie at the Town Hall, and we all agreed that we wanted to see the strip mall first. After what we had seen, we were all afraid of how it had fared.
We walked in between what remained of the auto-club building and the town houses. I did a double take when I saw that they were still there. Some were minus all doors and windows; however, many had boarded-up windows. It made me think of what Jackson had warned us of earlier. I let my morbidity of thought take hold, wondering how many of these once beautiful little places housed the dead. I also imagined the living holding their ears to the wood, listening to us as we passed.
We all gasped when we came upon it.
The strip mall stood up better than anything else. The windows were broken, but the buildings looked fairly intact. Of course, the boat that rolled into the parking lot from someone’s driveway was new. I walked up to the market and looked through the sharp teeth of glass that remained. The smell hit me all at once. It was decaying food, and there was a putrid smell I couldn’t identify.
Everyone started scattering in different directions, pulled by something they saw.
