by Lynn Lamb
“I hardly got any sleep last night, getting ready for today, and that’s why I look so tired. Maybe I could nap for a bit later,” I said, pointing to the couch she was sitting on.
“That’s a start,” she continued her forced therapy session. “Being physically fit will add to your sense of well-being, but we know there is more to it than that.”
And that led us into a one hour session, where there were tears from the both of us. I couldn’t help but wonder who Katie talks to when she needs it. I will try to be that person from here on out.
~~~
After Katie left, I decided she had a point about my physical stability, but instead of napping on the couch, I laid flat on the ground, eyes to the ceiling. My ribs still ached, and it helped to be on the flat ground. I could hear the kids next door, the happy voices of the children playing, and that sense of normalcy eventually gave way to a deep sleep.
~~~
I was jarred awake by Jackson’s nasal voice on the walkie, “Jackson to Laura, today’s cremation services are being held momentarily. Mark’s coming with the golf cart to get you. Meet him in front in the Town Square.”
Oh great, now the Villagers are going to think that I am acting like I deserve some kind of chariot to whisk me away.
I got on the walkie. “Tell him to meet me by the MV sign instead.”
I pulled out a brush that I had in my desk drawer and tried to make myself presentable. I hoped my brief sleep helped me prepare for this moment.
I walked down to the sign just as Mark was pulling up with Reverend John. Both men were somber. I climbed in next to my husband, and we proceeded down the broken street to the hotel with the swimming pool that had made it through the attacks in order to become an inferno for the dead.
As we approached, I could smell the stench of the bodies and the fuel that would remove them from this earth. From ashes to ashes, dust to dust, I recalled from my Catholic school days.
And then I saw my first dead body –make it thirty dead bodies. The biochemicals had been brutal to these unnamed souls. I expected them to look serene, as if getting ready to walk through some pearly gates. Instead, their faces were twisted, with boils and burns.
I wish that there had been a way to identify them, just in case someone came looking for them. There were about twenty of us in all at the funeral. Some of these mourners must have been related to the deceased in the pool. They were arranged carefully, arms folded across chests, with bodies head to foot, but there was overlap. At least they were being treated with care and respect.
“Today is a difficult day,” began the Reverend. “Not just because we are putting our loved ones to rest, but because we also know that each of these souls represent a million others who will never be mourned and lead into the afterlife like these here today.”
That had multiplied my grief, and I felt my face that had been respectfully sorrowful change to inconsolable in a matter of seconds. I selfishly thought not of those bodies before me that had been horribly disfigured, but for my own loved ones not here with me in the Village. Was someone caring for their bodies right now, praying for their souls?
Mark moved to my side and gripped my arm. He held me up, as we both bowed our heads and waited for the Reverend to finish giving his last rites to the dead.
Mark is my rock in this furious ocean of sadness and decay.
~~~
We went back to the Village, and then it was time for the meeting we had set for 3:30. I told the Villagers about our plans for the bodies of our neighbors. They took it well, and I suspected that the rancid smell that filled the area had something to do with their being understanding of the way we were disposing of the bodies.
After that, it was time to pick up the kids for our group supper.
“Laura, can I go to Ronnie’s house tonight? He invited me for a sleepover, please,” Jared begged.
Lizzie was gathering her kids at the same time. “It’s fine with me. He can wear a pair of Ronnie’s pj’s if he wants,” she offered.
“They moved your mother to the medical tent, so I will go there after dinner and ask her if it is alright,” I said. I had already told him that the Doc wants to wait for a bit before he visits his mother. But she was still his mother, and she needed to make the decisions for him.
“Okay,” he said, as he took a seat next to Ronnie at the table.
Tonight we had spaghetti, and it was absolutely wonderful. My hat’s off to Annie.
After dinner, I did as I had promised and visited Crystal. She was both tearful and thankful. I told her this was not just me, but her whole Village.
As all of the Villagers walked up the hill to their homes, I watched their faces, as one by one their smiles turned and their heads bowed. They saw the now empty houses that had entombed their neighbors, and those numbers were great.
But as I passed each home, I saw something very different. I saw the chance for other survivors of the war to find shelter, a community in which to find refuge, and a port in the storm.
August 21
It has been one month and one week since Monterey, California, was attacked, and we still do not know for sure who did the deed.
I have been too busy and too exhausted to write nightly, so I wanted to take this evening to record the events, lest we forget.
On August 14, the Villagers came together in honor of all who were lost. It was a somber day, filled with friends coming together to talk and tell stories of their fallen loved ones. We all sat at our dining tables, waiting for a turn to memorialize our dead.
I began the memorial with my own story. “I want to tell you about my nieces who are among those believed to be lost. My nieces lived with me until their teens, and they became the most amazing adults. Amanda was eighteen and Brianna was twenty when the bombs hit. In fact, today is Amanda’s birthday and Bri’s is next week. We always combined their birthdays and they never minded,” I choked up and had to take a moment. The sympathetic Villagers waited patiently for me to continue.
“They were brave young women, who charged into all challenges bravely and with everything that they had. So, Bri and Ammie, if you are somewhere you can hear me out there, I hope that you did not suffer in the end. I love you both, today and forever.”
I passed the mic to my right, to Mark, who did not look at all happy about showing his hurt in front of all of the 120 people who had come together to mourn their losses.
“Um, I don’t know what happened to my family in Africa, but there have been reports that much of the continent fell in the attacks, some countries turning on their neighbors,” he said, as he turned and put the mic on the table, he raised his head to the heavens and his hands cupped in front of him in silent prayer.
He then passed the mic to Annie. “I want to talk about my son, Jacob. I only hope that he was with his two precious daughters when he went. He would not have wanted to be anywhere else.”
The mic passed from one hand to another, with everyone saying a few sentences about their loved ones. It was a long and difficult day, with grief still so raw.
Bailey had been sitting to my left, so her turn to speak came last. She couldn’t, and she turned her head into my arm to hide when the mic came to her. I took it, and tried to speak for her. “Bailey’s parents were happy, lively people. Bailey told me that they used to take picnics to the beach and they were teaching her to surf. I know that they are very proud of her.” She looked up at me with a weak smile.
Later that day, Jared returned to his home in the loving arms of his mother.
“Laura, Mark, thank you, thank you,” she repeated over and over as she held her son.
Seeing her with him in her arms was more than enough thanks.
~~~
The Village work has been going well, mostly.
I have found someone who has a degree in Agriculture to lead the Food Growth Committee. I named it that, because we need to have fresh fruit and vegetables soon. I have volunteered our back yard for one of the gard
ens. It is a huge and largely empty yard, perfect for the crops that we would need.
The woman leading the effort is Charlotte Copeland, a retired employee of the Freshy Fresh Vegetable Company based in Salinas, which is only seventeen miles from here, and is known as the Salad Bowl Capitol of the World.
When we met, I noticed that she is a sturdy woman, in her mid-sixties. Her husband died in the attacks, and she was adamant from day one that she did not want to talk about it. Everyone mourns in his or her own way.
“One of our biggest problems with crops up here in the hills of Monterey is the damn gopher population,” she said. “Above the ground beds are best. We can use some of the downed fences to help defend against those dirty rats, but they are sneaky, so we are going to have to be very careful still.”
“I was thinking of using the pallets from the Big Box stores when the Out-bounders get back. I am hoping for packaged soil and seeds from the plant center, too. And I have a seed vault that I bought before the war. The Doc said that the ground isn’t giving off too much radiation, but we should be cautious, just the same,” I offered.
Charlotte nodded in agreement. She started to map out the backyard, using a stick to draw grooves in the ground for each row. She had some awesome growing ideas, too. We would create teepees of wood for beans to grow up on, and she had some sustainable water barrel ideas for boiling water right there in the fields to purify it, using PVC pipes with holes drilled into them to release the water to the plants. Finally, she had an idea for a greenhouse of sorts over the crops. They would bend over the plants and you could raise an entire row of the coverings all at once. She was adamant that all of the garden boxes be easy to break down and portable, just in case. This woman is a genius.
Charlotte’s garden was next on Jill’s list; right after the wall got started. Our backyard would be the prototype. Bailey was very excited about the new garden, and she asked me if she could help. Of course, I said yes. Whenever Mrs. Copeland came by our house to plan, Bailey was right at her side, soaking up everything she said like a sponge.
~~~
The Out-bound party was a source of great concern to me. They had been gone for days without any communication. They had one of the ham radios, but no one in the party was sure that they would be able to figure it out and make it work, even after Joseph’s careful directions.
We sent them out with instructions to find the biggest truck they could maneuver the streets with so that they could get everything on the list.
The list contained many of the things we need to survive. Annie asked for as many dried food goods as possible. On the top on her list was flour, beans, rice, sugar, coffee and powdered milk, and that was just the start of what she needed. Like I said, I had made a request for lots of bagged soil and seeds. Billy told us he knew where to find generators, and Mark added dog food to the lists. Our pets were becoming a pivotal part of the security of our Village.
Let’s put it this way, they had a long list to go through. So, we waited for their return; however, Jackson and I had come up with a Plan B, just in case.
~~~
And the moving parts just kept on moving.
The Village streets, that just weeks ago were eerily quiet, were now buzzing with hammers, nails, generators (which were much louder than I expected), and even the sound of children playing on the growing play structures. Everyone had been adding to them with items from their own backyards, and we were trying to figure out a way to bring some of the sand from the beach to place under the climbing children for safety.
We also needed sand for water purification; sand and charcoal. Apparently, layers of each could be used to sift out decent amounts of impurities. So, I was hopeful that the Out-bounders found some charcoal at the Big Box stores.
I was in the middle of preparing the stores in the strip malls for what was to come.
The movie theatre turned ballroom was now where we were storing our goods. We had several rows with items rescued from the neighboring shopping center. We now had some good supplies, and Villagers could go through and take limited quantities of what they needed.
Matt and some of his crew were helping our two electricians in the MV Market to rebuild and rewire so that a generator could be brought in to make it a food warehouse. The Bakery next to it was being similarly prepped. The kitchen in there would be perfect for baking bread and cookies, or so said Annie.
Security was another one of our moving pieces. Katie finally gave Jackson her list of the best recruits for the Security Team, and those who should not be allowed anywhere near a gun. It was good, because the military people were in need of a rest – especially Mark.
The night Jackson had his new recruits out training, Mark and I finally had some time to ourselves. We made small talk, awkwardly at first. It sort of felt like we were starting from scratch, until I broke the ice.
“What do you really think about the Village?” I asked him while we sat on the bed in our room.
“Well, first off I think that ‘the Village’ is a stupid name,” he said, purposely jabbing me with his words.
“If it means so much to you, than why didn’t you say something weeks ago?” I asked. I knew that he was just in a mood and wanted to irk me, and I gave him his way. I don’t really know why. I had been ready for some support, love and maybe romance that evening, but he was obviously festering something inside, probably for a while.
As much as I wanted to resolve whatever it was that was bothering him, I just didn’t have the energy.
I went out to the fireplace where Annie and Bailey were playing a board game, and Mark followed, probably out of boredom.
“Laura, will you read to me?” Bailey asked.
“Sure,” I said, ignoring the look on Mark’s face.
“Laura, did Laura Ingles’ family have electricity?” she asked.
“No, they didn’t. She was born before electricity,” I explained.
She looked thoughtfully at me and asked, “Then why did they do alright without it? We aren’t.”
“No, we aren’t. I guess that is because we are all used to having it and they weren’t,” I replied.
She made a valid point.
~~~
During one of my “on the floor of my office breaks,” Jackson came in to talk security.
“Heh, you spend a lot of time down there, don’t you? Who’s getting all that work done while you grab a piece of the floor?” he said, laughing at his own joke.
Much to my chagrin, he got down on the floor and lay next to me.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He looked over at me and answered with a straight face, “I think we should have all of our meetings down here.”
“Shut up,” I said. That had become my usual response to his insanity.
“No, I’m not kidding. It’s comfortable down here.” I could feel him stretch out his lean body next to me, but I refused to look at him.
I decided to turn the tide and put him in the hot seat. “So, why didn’t you ever tell me you had kids before?”
“Never came up,” he replied.
“Yes, it did. It came up with your daughter’s cheerleading bullhorn,” I told him.
“I guess it did come up. What do you want to know?” he asked.
“Everything,” I was in a mood. “I am on a break, so I have time.”
“I was married, a long time ago,” he started. “I have three kids who haven’t talked to me in years. One girl and two boys. My ex-wife poisoned their minds against me. She told them that I was a porn addict, and that I never wanted them in the first place.” I raised one eye brow at him. “Okay, so I am a man. Who cares if I like to, occasionally…” he trailed off as I turned my head to look him in the eye.
“Please don’t finish that sentence,” I said.
“But I never once said I didn’t want my kids. I loved my kids. And she ran off, and went into hiding. She told the military that I beat her and the kids. Of course, there was no actual
evidence that I had ever touched one of them, but it didn’t matter. Once that is out there, everyone believes it. It’s easier than finding out the truth, I guess,” he said, his mind off somewhere else, as if he was reliving it.
“Sorry, that had to have been rough,” I said, feeling badly that I brought it up. “Maybe you will find your kids someday.”
“Ya right,” he scoffed.
“Well, you big idiot, you have a new family now,” I said.
“Heh, so the world ended, and I got this community as the booby prize,” he said.
I laughed. “We’ll it’s not like those boobies from the internet…”
He softly pushed me, and we just stayed there, looking up at the ceiling, both lost in our own thoughts.
~~~
Reverend John came to my office to have a private conversation with me. When I first heard about the Reverend, I was not sure if or how he would fit into our community.
“Laura, may I ask you a question?” he began.
“Please, feel free to be frank, Reverend,” I told him, sensing that he was reluctant to talk with me.
“Alright, I will be. What religion are you?” he asked.
I felt queasiness at where this conversation was headed.
“I was raised to choose my religion,” I began. “But I went to Catholic school, so that is the religion I am most familiar with.”
“But that doesn’t answer my question,” he said, pulling me where he wanted me to go. “What do you believe, Laura?”
“I’m not really sure,” I told him. “I have a gut feeling that this War to End Humanity had its roots in religious zealousness. So many people, no matter what label they put on religion, are willing to kill everyone and everything over perceived differences in beliefs. But it’s not just those people who are responsible, or even the politicians and governments that ordered the buttons pushed; it was everyone who saw the problems and did nothing to stop them. And I have to admit that I am included in that group.
“I have never followed any one religion. I have studied all of the major religions, in search of one that spoke to me,” I tried to explain something that has always been a complicated subject for me. “I struggle with how many people act the opposite of their religious beliefs.
