by Crane, J. J.
guns. For the night, only those who had weapons experience could handle one. Samantha, Ted’s daughter, had the most familiarity with them. Ted assigned her a short barreled, home defense, shotgun. My son Curtis and Paul Macian each received a .22. Maya was the bow and arrow aficionado. She chose to carry that on her shift. The rest would need training later, but for now, acted as eyes in the sky.
The kids expressed enthusiasm at the idea. They could finally all hang out. None of us expected anything to happen, and if anything did occur, we were right there.
As each person entered the house, June and I greeted them with a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. At times, the emotions became so overwhelming tears welled up in our eyes. The touch of another person, to feel a hug of friendship and gratitude at this time of uncertainty brought much-needed smiles. The neighbors all brought a dish of some kind from deviled eggs, taco dips, cheese and crackers, pigs in a blanket, bean salads, burgers, hot dogs, mashed potatoes, microwaved vegetables, chicken, stuffing, a whole smorgasbord of delights people could indulge and enjoy. As the night wore on, I learned that folks ate very little during the last two weeks due to worry and loss of appetite. I even felt thinner, having to use the next notch on my belt to hold up my pants.
We set one rule – no television, only music. After a couple of drinks, people began to sing loudly to the Beatles, Twist and Shout, Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody, and Bon Jovi’s Living on a Prayer. Laughter became abundant and infectious. After two weeks of isolation, where the days were short, and the news never good, people needed the release. Even the most stupid ‘knock knock’ jokes caused loud belly laughs. People hugged often. From time to time people broke out crying for no other reason than to release the stress of the unfolding events in the world around us.
Ted, Max, Bruce, and I regularly popped our heads out to see the two different teams of guards walking around the cul-de-sac. Some of the kids would make cracks that they could hear everything going on, or if we wanted to stay concealed from the world, we were doing a poor job of it. In all, the kids enjoyed acting like adults. Samantha used the time to show some of the other kids who had no experience with guns, the finer points of the shotgun. She even let them hold it, making sure the safety was on. She displayed poise and leadership skills. Ted beamed.
Whenever one of the adults came out to relieve any of them, they brushed us away and said they had it under control. I think they all wanted to get away from their parents and be with kids in their own age range. The only thing they asked was for us not to eat all the food.
Around eleven, the party began to wrap up. A few people got drunk, but nothing to keep them from walking home. Ted and I offered to stand first shift. Pops offered to do a late shift seeing how Max and Bruce imbibed a little too joyously. Jason then stepped up and said he’d stand watch with Pops. We agreed to a 3:45am shift change.
To keep us on our toes, Ted and I walked up and down the street more than usual. We also talked about the prospects of Pops and Jason standing watch since Max, Bruce and ourselves had done all of them.
“We can’t constantly pull these shifts,” Ted said as our feet crunched away in the quarter inch of freshly fallen snow.
“Yup, I know. We have to get others involved,” I answered. “This means we have to develop a protocol that is universal for all those that participate – not simply, show up and stay awake.”
“Agreed,” answered Ted. “How about the kids tonight? How cool was that?”
I smiled thinking how well Curtis, Maya, and Samantha performed their roles as mentors during their watch. “They took a lot of pride in running that watch.”
“Yes, they did,” Ted said.
I nodded in agreement. “We should have them take part in some of these shifts. Curtis expressed he wanted to help out. We’ll have to figure out how to do that.”
“Teams of three; two adults and one of the teenagers, this way there is strength in numbers. It’ll take pressure off the kids should something unfold,” Ted added.
“You’ve thought this through I see,” I said with a laugh before shifting my tone. “Shitty to think it has to come down to this; posting guards. But, before we get the kids involved, we must have the parents on board. I think that might take a little more time.”
“I agree, but we’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto. The world is going to have a lot more evil in it. Vigilance is key in looking out for ourselves.”
“I hear ya,” I said. “What if we encounter others who truly need our help and don’t pose a threat? What then? Do we take them in or turn them away?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. Ted stopped and looked up at the sky which had cleared and now revealed stars and enough moonlight to cast slight shadows. “I guess it would depend on the size of the group. I also think we would have to quarantine them.”
“Jeez, I let that slip my mind,” I said in a frustrated whisper joining my brother’s gaze at the heavens. Silence abounded as we stood there staring at the little points of light.
Thoughts about our future raced through my mind. Do we have enough food? Do we have enough medicines? How soon before people just needed to get out of the neighbor- hood? What would we do if we lost power? What happens if a fight amongst us breaks out? What happens if we have to seek out supplies? What if we are attacked? The, ‘what ifs’ cascaded through me in an endless flow.
“I think we may have to draw up some kind of By-Laws for the neighborhood,” I said, my voice heavy with the actual thought of it.
I could see Ted nod in thoughtful agreement. “Yeah, at some point something like that might be needed. Might come off a little heavy-handed at this point.”
“You think the others are thinking along those lines?” I asked more rhetorically than literally.
“I don’t think anyone has any clue as to the gravity of our situation,” he said as we continued to walk back and forth up the street. “I think most believe this will end in a few weeks and we’ll go back to normal.” He stopped again. “Think about it… who the hell can possibly conceive that things are going to be radically different for a very long time? I can barely wrap my brain around it, and I’ve lived off grid.”
“It’s so hard to believe,” I said looking at the track marks in the snow we made. “I’ll tell you what I learned from Superstorm Rebecca; you can’t comprehend the devastation or what a societal collapse is like until you see it for yourself. The TV, the internet, all that stuff only goes so far. You have to taste it in the flesh to know its barbaric potential. I tasted a little when I watched those gunmen rob the gas station and kill that cop. That moment is so etched in my mind.”
“I hear what you’re saying. We all have to understand what we once knew as normal society is gone. I just hope your neighbors realize this… because if they don’t… it’s going to be some tough sledding ahead,” Ted said.
We fell silent for a couple of minutes before I spoke. “We aren’t going to have enough supplies to last a long time isolated from the rest of the world. I think it’s inevitable some of us will have to see what we can find to replenish our stock.”
Ted smirked. “Good to hear brother,” he said as he slapped my shoulder. “Glad to see you’re grounded in some kind of reality.”
“So, you agree with me?” I asked looking for affirmation.
“Like you said, it’s inevitable. Betty told me she heard a few whispers at the party that cabinets are becoming thin with food.”
June had said the same thing to me as the party ended. I could only shake my head in despair when she told me.
“Depending on how events turn, we will have to venture out and see what the world has become,” Ted said.
“I’m in no rush for that,” I added. “And, it’s not like the world is all that far away either.”
“Just around the corner,” Ted said. “So how far is Hartford from here…in miles?”
“About thirty-five miles, give or take a few.”
“So, a long two days walk i
f not three,” he answered.
“Really?” I questioned.
“Absolutely,” he answered. “The military can march about twenty to thirty miles in a day on a relatively flat surface. The average person who isn’t in shape or used to walking long distances probably couldn’t knock out more than ten. Someone in average shape can do about fifteen, give or take. So, let’s say we wanted to go to Hartford for whatever reason, it would take an in-shape team about two if not three days to get there. So, between there and back we are looking at a week.”
I was amazed at the reality of the duration. I had actually thought about such things because of my intrigue with travel times in the colonial era. I remember reading it took John Adams a little less than two weeks to travel from Boston to Philadelphia by horseback. I could only imagine it took a month on foot.
“Or we could take a car, and that would get us there in about a half hour,” I said while laughing.
Ted gave me a smart-ass glance.
“We have plenty of gas in the tanks, and I’m sure the roads are probably clear,” I said trying to contain myself.
“Let’s hope things are that easy,” he said, embarrassed. “Smart ass.”
Three forty-five in the morning couldn’t come quick enough. I felt like a zombie while walking our post, my eyes barely staying open. Ted and I were towards the end of the cul-de-sac when we heard a door close. It was Jason. He didn’t see us immediately, but we saw him sling a rifle over his shoulder.
Jason cautiously walked down to the end of his driveway. We saw him look both ways searching for us. Ted gave a quick, not too loud whistle. Jason immediately acknowledged us. We barely exchanged greetings when we heard Pops close his door. We all walked towards him.
“Brisk,” Pops said clasping his hands, the winter temperature hovering around the freezing point.
“A bit,” I said, getting a mild second wind seeing new faces. “But not too bad.”
“So, what’s the deal?” Jason asked. “How does this work?”
I explained how Ted and I would walk the length of the street at least three or four times an hour. When we became cold, we got into my car, started it, and ran the heat for a few minutes and tried not to fall asleep. When we walked, we mostly stayed on the sidewalk in case anyone came along. They asked if we had spotted any cars and before we could answer, we saw the outline of an automobile up by the entrance to our street come to a slow roll.
“Get behind something,” I blurted in a loud whisper. Jason ducked behind a plastic storage bin on the side of Pops’ house. Pops ducked behind a bush close to his front walkway, while Ted and I each ducked behind the two cars in his driveway. Once positioned, we saw the car was a police vehicle.
Sitting there idling, I looked at Ted and shrugged my shoulders. A moment later the spotlight came on. We watched the beam of light pan the neighborhood then pan into the woods across from our street. When the spotlight went dark, the car didn’t move for about a minute. My heart raced, and my breathing picked up. The car just sat there as if waiting for one of us to reveal ourselves. Then, the police car pulled away. We listened to it disappear before we all came out from our cover.
“So that’s the protocol for cars?” Pops asked half joking.
“Run and hide.”
“Something like that,” I returned with a laugh. “But we try to do it with more grace.”
“Has that happened before?” Jason asked with his rifle gripped firmly in his hands.
“The jumping and hiding?” I said, laughing. “We’ve seen a couple cars go by, but never stop at the top of the street like that.”
“What do you think it meant?” Jason asked.
We shook our heads. “No idea,” Ted answered. “But it seemed odd… like they came out to check up on things.” He paused and made a puzzled face. “I don’t get why he didn’t come down the street and make a simple pass. You know, like a normal patrol. Certainly, they know about us.”
“With all that’s going on, I think we can throw logic out the window,” Pops said as he slung his rifle back over his shoulder. “You guys can call it a night. We’ve got this,” he said to us.
“Yeah thanks,” I said, “But I’m wide awake now. I’ll keep you company if you don’t mind.”
Pops shook his head. “No… You guys have been doing the brunt of this. Go inside, relax… sleep will come.” A cold wind whistled through the trees and bit into our faces. “I’m sure there will be plenty of other opportunities to stand out in the cold in the middle of the night. Try to get some sleep. Goodnight.”
As much as we wanted to sleep, neither of us could. I turned on the television. Flipping through the channels revealed an ever-increasing number of black screens or color bars. TBS and TNT still had programming. Thankfully, someone had the foresight to broadcast nothing but comedies. People needed to laugh. We needed to laugh. I had no desire to seek out the news stations. June, Betty, and others kept up on all those stories. Admittedly, I read some news on the internet, but to unwind, I wanted to laugh and smile.
Ted and I both fell asleep on the couch. The sound of crying woke us up a little after dawn. We heard footsteps thunder down the stairs. Betty entered the family room. Her chest heaved; tears streamed down her face.
“They’re sick, Ted. All of them,” she said standing with her hands down at her sides as if frozen in place.
Ted stood; he knew exactly what she was talking about. He walked over and embraced her, stroked her hair. “I’m so sorry, love.” They melded into each other and began a subtle sway for comfort.
“Does Samantha know?” Ted asked.
“No, I just found out, Mom, Dad, Sissy. My brother texted. He told me. He said he got it too,” Betty mumbled between the sobs.
I could feel the tears well up in my eyes. My family was here. Our parents were long gone. Ted and I didn’t have many cousins, nor were we close to any of them. I could only imagine the pain Betty and others had to endure.
June, always a light sleeper, must have heard something because she appeared moments later. We all sat on the couch and listened to Betty talk about her family. They lived outside of Billings, Montana. Betty went east for college, landed an accounting job after graduation, and stayed on the east coast, eventually meeting Ted. She kept close relations with her family but never desired to move back. She now lamented not seeing them enough the last few years.
As the sun’s light began to break through the trees of the woods and shine into the house, exhaustion set in, but I couldn’t fall asleep. I stood up, stretched, and walked out the front door. Pops and Jason were talking near Pops’ house.
“Up early,” Pops shouted.
I walked towards them. “Nope, really haven’t slept yet.”
“Insomnia?” Jason asked.
I told them what happened to Betty’s family. They shook their heads in despair. There wasn’t anything to say. We stood, talked, and looked around our surroundings, the leafless trees, the snow covering all the grounds except for the main road leading into town and spots on our street. I asked about their watch - nothing happened. They thought they heard a truck in the distance but could not be sure. After about a half hour of talking, I began to feel the weight of needing sleep and said goodbye.
Not five steps from my front door, my phone buzzed. I looked… texts from Frank, then another and another. They read: Under attack… Chaos outside… Currently ok... IDK for how long… My mouth dropped open, stunned, horrified. I walked into the house, my body shaking. I wanted to call.
June saw my expression. “What’s going on?”
“Frank’s facility is under attack,” I said as I stumbled to a chair.
June rushed closer. “Are they okay? Jen and the kids?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
She grabbed the phone out of my hand and read the texts for herself when another one came in. They r inside. June dropped the phone and fell to her knees. “No,” she mumbled as she began to sob.
; I never received another text from Frank.
Chapter 12
Three days after Frank’s last text, snow came. More than an inch fell overnight, and it didn’t look like it was in a hurry to stop. I reflected on how fortunate no big snowstorms hit the area. It had snowed three times since our isolation began. Each time the accumulation kept to an inch or less. Yet, with each snowfall, a growing anxiousness mounted. One question continued to loom in the back of my mind - Would we lose power? The government television channel said military personnel would protect the national grid and major water facilities as best they could. It was a small relief. From all we could read online, (because local news on television had ceased to broadcast) absenteeism from the workplace was near 98%. With that in mind, I certainly didn’t expect crews to come out and do repairs should we lose power due to downed lines or a blown transformer.
As I walked with June, Ted, and Betty over to Pam Richard’s house for a community meeting about food supplies, I noticed a long line of Blackbirds sitting along a telephone line that led to a transformer. I had the uneasy feeling once we lost power we weren’t going to see it again.
Pam Richards owned a big house for a woman who lived alone - two floors, four bedrooms, three baths, and a spacious two-car garage. She kept it pristine and modest. She didn’t display outlandish collections of knick-knacks or gaudy art. Pictures of her two sons, most wearing their formal dress uniforms, decorated the off-white walls in nearly every room.
Pam presented a gruff exterior. Plump, graying hair that draped a couple inches past her shoulders, she also bore the scars of a bad case of teenage acne. Her thin lips sat on her face in the shape of a scowl. And, she wasn’t all that friendly. June and I on a number of occasions tried to engage her in conversation, but she would either semi-politely decline such overtures, or feigned having other things to do.
We learned that Pam’s two boys were from two different fathers. Her first husband died in their son, John’s first year of life. She remarried within three years and had another child, Matthew. That husband then abandoned her and the two boys just as John was entering middle school. The episode left her shocked and betrayed, a feeling she never came to terms with.
