by Lynn Lamb
“I also think that the principles of being a good person run throughout all the major religions. It is how each of us chooses to follow through on those fundamental tenets of religion that matters. I don’t feel that I need to give what I believe a name.
“If I had to explain my beliefs; I believe in power of human kindness, and those who act on it,” I concluded. “And I believe that we can have that right here in the Village, now, at the end of the world.”
“I understand and while I studied theology, I too struggled with this. Questioning is part of belief, Laura. I did identify with one religion. I want you to know that I accept you for who you are and what you believe, nameless or not.”
I had been expecting a lecture, but it didn’t come. Instead, Reverend John came to me, and as I stood, he gave me a hug.
“Thank you, Reverend,” I said.
~~~
Last night I went to the kitchen to fetch Annie. She has been spending every day, all day, in that kitchen, and it was time for her to go home now.
“Annie, get your stuff together. Bailey and I are getting a killer Monopoly game together, and we are ready for you this time,” I said, winking at Bailey, who was now by my side as much as she could be. She winked back at me.
“Annie, I am going to get Boardwalk this time,” Bailey sang. It was good to see her teasing and smiling. I think that her time with Katie is helping. So is mine.
I noticed that in the corner there were several hundred aluminum cans. I had been thinking that we were going to have a garbage issue soon, but these had been cleaned up and were stacked neatly.
“I’ll have Stewart come and pick those up so we can get them out of your way,” I said, pointing to her collection.
“No,” she said. “I am saving them. Billy and I had been talking about using them for a house to house alarm system. He said that he would be picking up as much twine as he can find.” Her expression became sad.
“What’s wrong, Mom?” I asked.
I had observed that Annie and Billy were developing a close relationship before he left on the Out-bound journey. It had been five days since they left, and we could only imagine the worse. Our view of what had once been several bustling cities had become broken and still, and I had sent our people right into the middle of it.
I was deep in thought when a call came through the walkie that I was barely aware that I was holding. “Base to Laura,” Jackson’s voice came through. “We need you at the Strip Mall.”
“Annie, will you bring Bailey home and get that Monopoly board set up? And you two, prepare to lose, ha, ha, ha,” I said in my evilest sounding voice.
“Ten-four, over,” said Bailey, officially. It seems that our little Bailey was becoming proficient in what I like to call “Walkie-Speak.”
I watched as Annie and Bailey began to walk up to the house, with the “Laura Ingles” braids that Bailey was now insisting on wearing, bouncing as she walked.
I made my way to the strip mall, walking faster as the many voices in the distance became louder.
Jackson and Mark were standing, armed with guns on their hips, but not pointing them or even holding them. They did not appear to be overly concerned. They seemed to be trying to calm these strangers, who looked really familiar.
I stopped and tried to figure out how I knew these people, and I realized, these are Monterey’s homeless. And the thing that really yelled out to me was that they looked the same as they always had. They were somewhat unwashed, but not downright dirty; like us. Their clothing was a bit worn and torn; like ours. The war had completely leveled the playing field, or had it given these people, with their years of managing on the streets, an advantage?
Monterey had always had a population of homeless. The weather was never too hot or too cold, and the wealthy made it possible for them to exist here fairly easily by giving the panhandlers hand-outs. It was rumored that some of the expensive restaurants on the Wharf would feed them leftovers at night, also.
“Hi, everyone,” I said. At that, all of our visitors began to speak at once. “Okay, okay. I am going to have a brief conversation with these gentlemen, and we will be right back,” I reassured as Mark and Jackson ushered me up to the MV Market where we went inside so that we were not over heard.
“They are looking for a place to go. They were holed-up in one of the warehouses near the car lots. They knew enough to keep themselves boarded in, but they didn’t know when the air would be clear, so they just left the warehouse yesterday. Their food and water ran out, so they had no choice,” Jackson summed up what they had told him.
“Baby, we need to help them. They look healthy enough. I called for Malcom to come down and assess,” said Mark.
Jackson looked hot under the collar. “We don’t have enough for the people we have here, ‘baby.’ We don’t need seventeen more mouths to feed.”
“No, but we could sure use seventeen more able bodies who know how to survive on very little. And who are we to say that this land isn’t theirs, too? A lot of these people have lived here a lot longer than you have,” I informed Jackson. I looked over at Mark’s smug face, and I rolled my eyes. Those two and their pissing matches are going to be the death of me.
“The Peninsula Hotel across the street has been checked out by Jill and Matt. It’s safe and I have been wondering what to do with it. After Malcom clears them, lead them over there and tell them that I will be over to talk to them soon,” I picked up the walkie. “Annie, can you go back to the kitchen? I’ll meet you there. We have seventeen more large meals to prepare.”
As I walked back up to the kitchen, I started to get a knot in the pit of my stomach. The Out-bounders hadn’t returned with the critical supplies we need for the 137 of us and here I was adding more hungry, and more importantly, thirsty people. Our water supplies were so low.
I looked back and caught a glimpse of the line of Monterey’s homeless. I saw a guy who used to walk around town balancing things like cups on his head. One time I was sitting in a downtown restaurant when I swear I saw him walk by with a bunny on his head.
For some reason, Monterey has always attracted a group of colorful characters to its streets. John Steinbeck wrote most of his books about our past residents. I am sure that most students of his work thought they were just wonderful figments of his imagination, but those of us who grew up here know better. The Laboratory of one of his most famous characters, Doc Ricketts’, still stands next to our wildly popular tourist attraction, the Aquarium. Well, used to stand. It’s so hard to think of all of those wonderful man-made places knowing that they were also taken away by man.
August 22
I woke up this morning knowing that I had to make some important decisions. I convened a meeting of the Council first thing, and I had already made up my mind on the two topics we needed to discuss.
The Doc told me that the homeless in the hotel seem to be in fairly good health. Their only real problem was dehydration. To the protests of Jackson, Malcolm sent water to them last night. He does not want us to let them interact for the next three days, just in case. The doctor’s real fear is the pneumonic plague. Apparently, if someone has breathed in the biochems released during the war, and has been left untreated, the bubonic plague bacteria could spread to their lungs. In close contact, it can be contagious and turn into the pneumonic plague. As in the case of Crystal Warner, it can sometimes be treated. I wonder if our medical personnel were taught this in school. Had they been waiting for this to happen all along?
My other decision was whether or not to send a search party for our missing Out-bounders. I knew that they were in the hands of Billy, who said himself that he was more than capable of doing the run to the Big Box store. But I made up my mind. The party must be in trouble, so I would send an armed group of security people out tomorrow.
At noon, all of the Villagers arrived in front of Town Hall. For the first time since our very first meeting, I was concerned about how the Villagers would react to the news of o
ur newest members. Some Monterey residents had a long time dislike of the homeless, and I didn’t imagine that it had diminished since the war. Since we had no idea these people had made it through, there was no need to broach the subject, until now.
With Mark, Malcom, Reverend John and Jackson standing behind me like an impassable rock wall, I spoke into the microphone. I spoke with all of the confidence I could muster. “Yesterday, we saw our first glimpse of life outside the Village. A clever group of survivors made their way to our doors, asking for shelter. They are now at the Hotel across the street from the strip mall. They are physically well, except for some dehydration that the Doc is treating. We are keeping them away from the general population for the next few days, in quarantine, as a precaution only. After that, I believe that we need to allow them to join us here. They could prove to be a valuable asset to our community.
“The group of people who have arrived are part of the former homeless population of Monterey,” I stopped and waited for the gasps from the crowd.
The dissention came out in a roar of voices. “We want to vote,” said one. “They aren’t residents, they never paid taxes,” came another.
I knew it was the time I had expected to come all along. They were questioning my judgment. I would have been alright with that when it came to other decisions, but not this one. I continued over the growing cries.
“Taxes are a thing of the past,” I spoke out vehemently. “I know this is a sensitive subject to some of you. But now is the time that we decide who we are as human beings. If we dispose of a group of people based upon who they were, race, creed, or monetary worth, then that decision will define us. I am not a bigot, and I do not believe most of you are, either.”
It became quiet again as people began to check their motivations.
“The homeless have much to teach us, if we are ready to be taught. They have managed to stay alive under bad circumstances for much longer than we have. I, for one, am ready to learn from them.
“I believe that you are a people of great goodness. I don’t pretend to understand why we have lived and others have died, but I do know one thing: this Village has come together to help each other. I watched as you brought your own food rations to the Town Hall to share with your neighbors. You had no idea if you would starve to death by the end of the week, but you made a decision to stand together. And that decision is air-tight.
“So, we can have a vote, if you wish. But remember this, at any time your presence in this Village might be questioned if we go down that road. Would you like to be voted out of your home?” I finished with that question for them to ponder.
My carefully chosen backups moved to my sides, and the crowd looked up at us, considering. Some of them looked defiant, yet others looked ashamed. I waited to see which side of human nature would win.
“Let them in,” someone cried out. “No way,” shouted others. That started a complete cacophony of voices, all screaming out their beliefs.
I raised my hand up high until it became silent. “If you believe that letting them in is the right thing to do, clap.” A burst of clapping began. I was surprised how long it continued. Almost everyone was cheering. Those who were opposed to inviting in the outsiders turned and slunk away towards their homes.
I drew a deep breath. I won this one, but it could have easily gone the other direction. In this case, the mob ruled on the side of right.
As it stands, the values of the Villagers are fragile, indeed.
A familiar sound broke through the cheering. As if by some divine act of intervention, (which, of course, I don’t believe in) the Out-bounders returned with horns blaring. Those people who had stood against letting in the homeless turned to see the trucks moving toward us. They began to make their way back down the hill to blend back in with their neighbors.
Bailey ran up to the stage and grabbed my hand and then Mark’s and began to pull us down the hill. Mark and I smiled at each other, realizing what a very good day it was shaping up to be.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Hotel rise above the homes of the Villagers, and I realized its proximity to the Town Hall. Could they hear the meeting that had sounded out over the speakers? Was I just an insensitive jerk? My mood dampened a bit, but I went to meet our heroes anyway.
The homeless opened their curtains and watched the festive mood of the parade.
Five large, “Move it Yourself” trucks made their way into the parking lot of the strip mall. They were driven by none other than our now smiling Out-bounders. They looked as if they had a story to tell.
I let the crowd cheer before I climbed up on the running board of the truck Billy was driving. “I need some volunteers to empty the supplies in the trucks into the MV Market and the Ballroom,” I screamed over the crowd.
Every hand went sight went up.
“Okay then,” I said. “Everyone helps. Jackson and Matt are in charge. Any questions go to them.” Was I paying Jackson back a little giving him this detail for not wanting the homeless in the Village? You bet.
Mark, Annie, Jill, Bailey and I led the Out-bounders to the Town Hall.
On the street above the Town Square, a small, old woman sat in her wheelchair. We needed to be more careful of the elderly, I thought. I had never seen her before. She must have been one of the people with mobility problems who received their meals at home. I radioed for someone in security to help her immediately.
Annie went into the kitchen to prepare a hot meal for the group. I let Hershey out of the office, and he ran over to sniff the returnees. They must have smelled like the open road to him; however, I couldn’t help noticing the smell of the unbathed myself.
Mark was getting a fire going, not that it was cold. Mark and I always have a fire when greeting people. It’s our way.
Annie quickly served the food, and we waited patiently for the Out-bounders to eat. When they had finished, Billy said, “My compliments to the chef.” Annie blushed.
I began the conversation everyone was waiting for. “Billy, can you tell us what happened? You all have been gone for five days. We knew you might have trouble with cars and debris scattered on the highway, but… five days?”
“Sorry, Laura. I know, that’s a long time, but we had quite an adventure. The eight of us weren’t ready for what’s out there,” his voice became lower in pitch.
My heart stopped with the realization that now we were really going to know what had happened to our city and those cities surrounding us that once made up our peninsula.
“The motorcycles were a good idea. As soon as we drove up the on-ramp of Highway One, we knew that we were going to have to figure out how we were going to get trucks back into the area. The highway had no cars on it due to the police barricades at the time of the attacks. Cars were not our problem, but downed trees, power poles and other debris were all over. The biggest problem was from the bombs themselves. We all know that we felt a lot of rocking and rolling that horrible day, but we never really figured out what was really being hit.
“I can tell you that Highway One got hit hard. Huge chunks of all of the lanes are gone. Whoever did this to us wanted to take down our infrastructure, and they did. We had to go over the hills to the sides of the highway, which was no easy task on the hogs. We ended up having to get off at the first off-ramp we could find. Then we took side streets. We even went over some completely crumbled homes when we had no other choice. It’s bad. So much is gone, and even though we left in the morning, it was after dark that we made it to the Big Box store.
“The store was partially caved in and the front doors, you know the kind they have, the metal ones that roll down, were broken. We were able to just slide them right up. We decided to wait until light, so that we could see if there was anyone inside. We slept in the tire store next door to it that first night. It was cold, but we made do. The ladies took the office, and we men slept out on the showroom floor.
“It wasn’t comfortable for any of us,” interrupted Samantha. “We had
someone keep watch at all times, and we stayed very quiet. Come first light, we made our way into the store, and we were sort of surprised to find as much as we did still there. We realized why the store was only missing some things when we drove around looking for trucks to haul things away in. We locked the metal doors up the best we could and went out to find a semi-truck, one that still ran.”
“We drove around so long,” picked up Carrie, “that we all ran out of gas and we ended up pushing the bikes to every gas station on Fremont Blvd. Most of them had signs up that said they were out of gas. The others were impossible to get pumping without electricity. That night we slept inside a gas station. The next day we decided to leave the bikes and walk until we could find something to drive. We needed something small like our bikes or something big to plow over the wreckage. Levi found one of those trucks with the incredibly big tires, and we loaded into it and headed to a store Billy knew carried generators.”
Billy chimed in, “Yeah, it’s where I got mine. Real nice guy used to own it. We didn’t have high hopes at that point, because everything we saw was either destroyed or looted. What chance did we have to find a generator?
“But we were lucky. The place we were looking for was near the airport, and was never real popular. I mean, most people didn’t have generators, and those who did mostly bought them in big stores or online. Frankly, I don’t know how he stayed open.”
Samantha continued now. “We loaded it up, got back to the gas station and had to figure out how to get things going. Billy worked most of the night, but he finally did it. In the morning, we loaded the truck with gas cans and hid the generator under the floor of the gas station. You know, where they go under your car to change the oil. We were really careful to make it look like nothing was there, in case we ever needed to go back for more.
“Then, we started back toward the store. We must have been some sight, that is, if there had been anyone left to see us. Billy drove the truck while the rest of us took the bikes. We spread out only a little bit, because we didn’t want to lose anyone.
