by J. F. Krause
As I expected, the front door was locked and going through the garage wasn’t a better option, so I went out to my back patio and called up to Esther. Martha whimpered back indicating that she at least was able to get to the balcony. Retrieving my ladder from the garage, I leaned it up to the balcony sidewall and climbed up. Martha knows me well since I’ve puppy-sat her on a few occasions not to mention all the back patio man-puppy conversations we’d shared since she arrived. Martha is less than six months old and very spoiled by Esther. No one would expect anything else really. Martha’s a beautiful girl, and Esther has all the time in the world to look after her since retiring from a lifetime of teaching. Esther retired this school year from my school where she taught fifth grade just like me. Maybe not just like me, since she knew what she was doing after thirty-six years in the classroom. She was a sweet lady as well as being my landlord. She liked having control over who got to live in the apartment under her own and she liked me. When the apartment came empty, she offered it to me, even reducing the rent to make it more affordable on my beginning teacher’s salary. Of course, I jumped at the chance to live here and to be able to walk to school. It also doesn’t hurt that I get along really well with older women. I’m a nice guy and just a little protective of old people and children. I’m a teacher; what would you expect?
Martha was a one-dog welcoming party. Her dog bowls were both empty: no water and no food. Her puppy pad was full so she had been left unattended for quite a while. I pushed the patio door open and I could already smell the waste from the sickness. It didn’t take me long to realize that nothing was going to make any difference for Esther. I quickly closed the patio door and took Martha into the hall outside Esther’s bedroom. I knew where her bag of dog food was so Martha and I went there first. Esther had the same floor plan I did for the most part, but she also had a bonus room above her two-car garage. I didn’t have any reason to go anywhere but to her kitchen pantry for the dog food so, after grabbing the bag of puppy chow, I harnessed Martha up, and we made our way down the stairs to Esther’s front entry next to the garage in front. Martha was barely whimpering as we made our way to my recessed front door entry just a few feet away.
Now, going through my front room to the kitchen, I set about watering and feeding Martha. Somehow, having something to do seemed to calm me down a bit. As I mentioned earlier, I always look calm in bad situations, but inside, it’s a bit different. That’s a good personality trait for a teacher, I suppose, but I’d learned it growing up in a family of drama loving sisters back in Georgia.
The sun was higher in the sky by now, and I decided to take Martha out for a walk up our cul-de-sac so I could look around. My apartment was in the last building on a rather long, quiet, mostly retired-people-occupied lane right next to a medium sized park. If I went out the access gate at the end of the lane, I could cut across the park and be at my school in about five minutes (as long as I hoofed it). The gate was supposed to be locked, but it had never been since I moved in just this past the summer. Driving up the cul-de-sac and then around the park with a stop at the intersection next to the school before getting in line for the teachers’ parking lot actually took over twice as long as just walking through the park. Walking also had the added benefit of keeping the principal guessing whether I was there or not since she couldn’t tell by my car parked in the teachers’ lot just outside the office windows. That might have been a little snarky of me, but being just in my second year, I was still probationary and the principal, while pleasant enough, was a little prone to giving me a few extra duties now and then, like staying at school alone with the three little girls yesterday.
I really needed to see some people, living people. I also figured that if I died outside on the cu-de-sac Martha might be able to fend for herself instead of being locked up in my apartment. I hoped I would be able to at least let her out of her halter when I got sick. It might take my mind off things for the last few conscious seconds. I thought of letting her off the halter right then, but even in my existing state of mind, I couldn’t break the habit of keeping a dog on a leash when they were on the street. Making our way up the cul-de-sac. Martha stopped to sniff frequently and generally kept us at a very slow pace throughout the walk. No one was around, just dogs barking and no traffic, no people. Near the entry to my street, I saw two little dogs that looked sort of like push brooms standing at the gate to their back yard. They were nearly identical except for size. Since they weren’t barking, I decided to check on the owners. Maybe they were ok and I’d find someone to talk to. For the next few moments at least, my attention was focused on something besides the horror of what was going on around me, but unfortunately, not for very long.
The front door was locked, of course. This is California, not Georgia, and most people don’t know their neighbors, and everyone locks their doors. I rang the bell, but no one came. I knocked, hard. Nothing. Then I noticed the sounds of the two dogs now on the other side of the front door. The back door must be open! I ran to the side gate, but it was locked. After climbing over the fence, I rounded the corner of the house only to see the dogs coming out of a tiny little dog door in the wall next to the back patio door. Of course the people door was locked, but I could see through back windows into the house just enough to identify a woman’s body, or rather the shoulders and head of a woman’s body lying in a hallway a few feet beyond the patio door. She was lying in a pool of what was becoming a familiar sight by now. There were dried dog prints leading from the waste in both directions and up to the area where the dog door must be open. I looked down at the two dogs who appeared to be an adult and a puppy of the same breed, whatever that might be. I was inclined to think they were a mix of Maltese and poodle or yorkie. In contrast to a lot of things I don’t know, I do know a fair amount about dog breeds even though our dogs growing up had been selected at the pound purely for size and gender. (Mom favored small females.) Their little feet and muzzles were stained. I almost lost it, but fortunately I didn’t have anything down there to come up. The first thing I did was grab the hose and clean the feet and mouth of the bigger one (female). The little one was easy to catch and quickly cleaned. He was an intact male puppy who I assumed was the offspring of the larger female. Now that I had met them, I couldn’t just leave them so I carried the little male and the female followed.
My explorations so far had garnered me three dogs. I decided I needed to go home and try to come up with a plan. I was alone, and there were dogs running free, dogs that would soon become hungry and thirsty. And despite everything that had happened, I was starting to get hungry, too. I dropped the dogs over the locked gate next to Martha who I had leashed to the water meter in front of the condo. Thank god I was in better shape than some of the other teachers I worked with.
Back at my apartment, I fed the dogs and promised myself I wouldn’t rescue any more of them. There’s no way I would be able to keep my vow, but at least my practical side was starting to assert itself. I made myself a sandwich and dialed 911. I didn’t even get a sound and realized my cell phone battery was drained. More and more, I was coming to terms with just how really screwed up this situation really was. I might be alone and not die! What if there weren’t any other people out there!
I began to wonder when the electricity would go off. Maybe it wouldn’t. What I didn’t know about electricity would fill a college textbook. It made perfect sense that electricity would go off sooner or later, but I wasn’t ready for it no matter when it happened. When you think you’re going to die any minute, you don’t plan well for the future. Nevertheless, as long as I had electrical power, I was going to make sure my cell phone was charged even though no one I called was answering. I figured I was on my own, at least until I died, which I also figured might be fairly soon. This was really in a quandary: I didn’t expect to live, and I definitely didn’t want to die, but I didn’t want to live if I were all alone, either.
The knock on my front door almost caused my heart to explode. My first thoug
ht was that the police were there, and I was in trouble for stealing dogs or breaking into dead peoples’ houses. What it was, however, was two little boys. The older boy was familiar to me, Jerry something from the class next door to mine at the elementary school. I taught fifth grade next to Kathy Chiang, a good, experienced teacher who had given me a lot of great ideas and advice over the last couple of years. Now, one of her students, Jerry, was standing at my front door holding the hand of a slightly smaller boy.
“Mr. Caldwell? Can we come in?”
“Of course, Jerry”. Like I said, I’m certainly calm appearing in a pinch. “Jerry, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Of course he wasn’t okay, but why was he at my door?
“We saw your map at the school. We…, we didn’t know where else to go so… so we went to the school and…and, and everyone’s dead, Mr. Caldwell!”
It was clear that both of them had been crying and were almost traumatized. I brought them into my kitchen to the table to sit. Then I noticed the dog with them. It looked like a beagle. The other dogs were welcoming it to the house in their own way so I looked back at the boys. I asked them if they wanted something to eat.
The little one nodded his head, so I got out the bread to make them a sandwich. “A sandwich ok?” I asked. Again a nod, but now from both. “Peanut butter and jelly?”. Nods. “Is there anyone at home for you?” They looked at each other and both of them started to cry again. Jerry shook his head.
O god! No one can prepare you for this conversation. “Jerry, is this your brother?” Nods. “What’s your name?” to the littler one.
“Charlie. I’m in third grade. Jerry’s my brother,” he said with his mouth full between sobs. There was a slight resemblance between the brothers with Jerry having light brown hair and blue eyes with the same head shape and the same straight little nose with a slight upturn at the end as his brother. Charlie had darker hair and brown eyes. They were average height and weight for their ages, again, something a teacher will notice. While I didn’t know anything about Charlie, I knew that Jerry was a good enough student and seemingly well behaved.
“Is anyone left at your house?” They looked at each other, looked down, and shook their heads no. “Ok, you can stay here with me if you like. I’m alone too.” Their relief was immediately obvious.
They had brought nothing with them, but by now, I just figured it didn’t matter. Something in me still figured I was going to die soon, and that the boys would do what the girls had done earlier. My major thoughts were about making sure the four dogs survived when we all finally succumbed to the sickness. (Did I mention that I’m somewhat practical?) On the other hand, I was aware that there were a few stray dogs showing up here and there, and I didn’t want the house open to them in case they got hungry and aggressive. I decided to leave my patio door open just enough for them to get in and out. I would have to do for now.
As I was thinking about that, Jerry spoke up. “Do we have enough food for us to eat until someone comes to help?” So Jerry had a practical side, too.
I didn’t want to just come out and tell him that I didn’t think anyone was coming to help and that we were going to die anyway. So I said, “What do you have in mind?”
“You don’t think anyone is coming do you?” Jerry was pretty astute.
“I don’t know. I don’t think there are many people left, and they probably need help as much as we do.”
Jerry just nodded. Jerry wasn’t expecting to die any minute, evidently. Not wanting to burst his bubble with what I thought was reality, I suggested that I go upstairs to Mrs. Lopez’s and see if she had some food and water we could get. Like a lot of Californians, I have an earthquake survival kit with some water and food, but not enough for three and not for very long. I knew she had water and hoped she had some food.
The boys wanted to come, too. They probably didn’t want me out of their sight after what they had been through. I told them Mrs. Lopez had died and that it wouldn’t be a good thing for them to see. The assured me they could take it and that they could help me.
Right then, I didn’t feel up to being tough on them so I agreed that they could come with me. Since I’d left the door unlocked when I rescued Martha, all we did was open Esther’s door and walk up the stairs to the apartment. Already, I could smell Esther’s decaying body. The closer we got the stronger the smell became. I thought the boys would turn around or at least complain, but they stayed right there with me. This was truly my first experience of anything like this. It was hard to shake the feeling that I was stealing Esther’s food. On top of that, two little boys were assisting me. Stifling my conscience actually took a conscious effort. Regardless, we quickly became efficient burglars as we went through the pantry gathering food. Esther had reusable grocery bags hanging on the pantry door so we began filling those up. I suspected she had more food and water somewhere, maybe under the stairs, and I made a mental note to check that out as soon as possible.
Looking for supplies was actually fun in a really twisted way. It may have felt wrong, but it was just a little invigorating and might be really necessary, too. That was when the certainty of our getting sick and dying began to fade just a little. Doing something proactive like getting several meals taken care of was a tonic for all the despair that had begun to settle in my mind. The boys had to drag their bags down the stairs, but I was able to carry a couple in each hand.
The dogs welcomed us back into my apartment as only dogs can do. The natural leader was the female mop dog whose dog tag identified her as Carla. The little male with her didn’t have a collar or a name so we would have to choose a name for him ourselves. According to his collar, Jerry and Charlie’s dog was Buster. Little No Name was still intact, but Buster had been under the knife. It looked like Jerry and Charlie came from a responsible home, pet-wise.
Dragging our newly liberated supplies to my kitchen, I announced my intention to check what was stored underneath the stairs in Esther’s condo. Of course, the boys came along, too. My guess was that the entrance to the stairway storage was through the garage since there was no room for a door in her entryway. It was way too dark to see properly so I had to go back into my house to get a flashlight. The boys were following me around like the little shadows they had become. I keep lots of really bright LED flashlights around the place so I gave each boy one to carry. I even have a couple that have windup handles. They work as well as the regular battery ones.
Going into Esther’s garage, I gave a quick look at her almost new SUV. Esther bought it as her retirement gift to herself. She said it would be the last one she ever had to buy. She was right, I guess. My garage contained my old college Honda; probably the last one I’d ever buy, too.
The door to the stairway storage was right where I thought it would be and sure enough, we hit a bonanza of earthquake preps. Water, a tent, a Coleman stove, an ice chest, and lots of breakfast and dinner packets were neatly stacked into the fairly roomy storage area. I spotted the light switch after I opened the door so we had light. It hadn’t occurred to me there would be a light in the storage area since I don’t have stairs or that kind of storage. Looking around the rest of her garage, she was pretty nicely set up with a Sears tool chest, cleaning supplies, and various yard tools. I decided to just leave everything in her garage for the time being since it was right there and handy.
As we went back into my place, I became aware I was still hungry. I started thinking what I could make that didn’t require cooking. Simultaneously I also started to realize how really unprepared to be a survivor I was when electricity or any of the other things I took for granted before the sickness actually did stop working. If I didn’t die, I was going to have to come up with a plan to survive.
We had another sandwich and washed it down with cold milk for the boys, and tomato juice for me. I was going to have to get practical very soon or dying of the sickness was going to be a piece of cake compared to slowly starving or dying of thirst. Southern California can be a pretty dry place
without water from someplace else.
Without realizing it, I’d pivoted from expecting death any minute, to planning how to survive post electricity and all the things that came with it. I also realized that very soon we wouldn’t be able to bear the stench of thousands of decaying corpses literally everywhere. We couldn’t stay here much longer.
Since talking things through helped me think more sensibly, I decided to tell the boys what I was thinking.
“Guys, we aren’t going to be able to stay here much longer.”
“What do you mean?” Jerry was the spokesman for the brothers evidently.
“We need to try to find other people.”
“Maybe no one else is still alive.” That was Charlie. It was good to see he was willing to join in.
“I suspect there are others around since we’re ok, so far. If we are still alive there must be others, maybe a lot of others.” I’m used to having discussions with children so talking through a survival plan almost seemed familiar. The longer we talked the more a plan began to emerge.
We needed to see if we could find other survivors, and living in a very densely populated place would make that easier than it would be if we were on a farm someplace in the middle of Nebraska.
“Where do you think is the best place for finding other people? Since most public places and stores were closed by the government, what other places would still be open?” Even as I asked, I already knew a couple places to start looking.
This was a little over their heads so I didn’t really expect an answer, but, surprisingly, Jerry came up with one right away. “The hospital!”
There’s a hospital about a mile and a half from my condo. It’s not as big as the one about five miles away, but it had all the makings of a hospital and was worth a look.
By this time, it was about 1 PM. Before we could even think about that, we heard the faint sound of a siren. We all froze in place and listened. Clearly, we weren’t alone. Maybe there were police out and about! Maybe we were about to be rescued!
