by Nancy Isaak
Like Jude, Porter was also an extremely hard and diligent worker. He was also one of the smartest kids Jude had ever met; it was that and his kindness that had initially attracted her to him.
Also—and more importantly—Porter had been the first person who had seen past the anger and the bullying to the true character that could be Jude.
He actually liked her.
Porter and Jude shared an interest in Blues and Old Jazz music and often could be seen on their breaks—sitting on the loading docks behind Vons—listening to old Billie Holiday numbers on their phones.
And—although I had never seen them together at school—Jay insisted that she had once seen them in the Chemistry lab during lunch. Apparently, Porter had been trying to tutor an uncomprehending Jude in the difference between ‘intensive’ and ‘extensive’ properties.
Somehow, the age difference between them didn’t seem to matter—Porter was fifteen and Jude had turned seventeen on that very Halloween.
For Porter—Jude was simply one of his many friends.
For Jude—Porter was her only one.
* * * *
While Jude was overweight and struggling with acne and her bad temper, Porter was a skinny six inches shorter, with a crooked nose way too big for his face. He definitely wasn’t a ‘physically-cute’ boy, but he had such an incredible sweetness about him that it just didn’t matter.
Everyone liked Porter.
Well—almost everyone.
That evening—when Brandon, Frank, and Denny walked into Vons—Porter had just finished pushing a line of shopping carts into their corral outside of the store. As bad luck would have it, he parked the last cart right as Brandon and his crew were passing by. Unknowingly, he then fell in step right behind them, as they all walked into the store. Not paying attention—when the bigger boys stopped at a display—Porter continued walking, ramming right into Brandon and pushing him into a tower of cereal boxes.
Now in a movie, those cereal boxes would have come tumbling down and Brandon would have wound up on his butt with a humiliated expression on his face. But the truth here was that the cereal boxes stayed upright, Brandon barely moved (being well over 6 feet and more than 200 pounds), and Porter was the one who got hurt when his largish nose got mashed up against Brandon’s mutant-sized back.
Still, Brandon turned on Porter with fists up and vengeance in his eyes.
The younger boy immediately backed up, uttered an apology, and tried to walk away. Frank and Denny, however, had a different idea; they grabbed Porter by his collar and pushed him back toward their angry friend.
“I’m sorry,” Porter quickly apologized. “It was an accident…I swear!”
“Yeah, well—I’ll accident you, dick-wad,” snarled Brandon, in what no doubt was the ramping up of a steroid-induced rage. With one hand snagging Porter’s orange reflective work-vest, Brandon pulled his other back, making a fist and preparing to strike.
But, while Brandon might have been acting on steroids (or, more likely, just plain meanness), Jude was acting on love and friendship. And at that moment, those were her drugs and they were way more righteous than Brandon’s.
Jude shot forward from where she had been standing—bagging behind a nearby cashier’s stand—and launched herself straight at Brandon. With a carefully placed fist, she clocked him behind one ear. The other she used to reach around his head and pull him to the ground.
Moments later, Porter, Frank, Denny, the Vons employees, the customers, and most importantly—the manager—were standing there in a circle, watching in horror as this young teenage girl literally beat the crap out of one of their local high school football heroes.
And as often goes with athletes—it’s never their fault when bad things happen. Even though there were witnesses to Brandon pulling a fist on Porter, it was Jude who lost big that night. It didn’t matter that she was protecting her friend, said the Manager. What mattered was that she had used violence against a customer.
Jude was fired.
* * * *
Running out of Vons—humiliated and ashamed—Jude eventually found sanctuary behind the baseball stands in Chumash Park. There, she drank some beer that she had stolen from her parents’ alcohol cabinet and smoked a little weed, gifted from a stoner walking by (who was dressed in a lobster suit, by the way).
It was Jude’s intention to get messed up just enough so that she could return home, fall asleep, and forget everything that had just happened. What Jude hadn’t expected was that she would do exactly that—only not in her own bed, but right there behind the baseball stands.
When she woke up the next morning (ironically, it would probably have been right about the time Jay and I were investigating the Tesla on the other side of the park), Jude found herself aching all over. Her clothes were wet and stinking—courtesy of the park sprinklers—and she was nursing a nasty hangover.
Jude’s first thought was that her parents were going to be furious with her for not coming home the night before. Her second thought was that Porter probably hated her now for being such a dumbass—which meant that she was about to lose her one, true friend. (And, of course, Jude’s phone wasn’t working, so she couldn’t confirm either one.)
Hurt and ashamed—with her hair tangled and her clothes soaking wet—Jude slowly walked toward her home, a few blocks away from Chumash Park. If there were cars abandoned in the middle of the streets, Jude says that she didn’t notice. Instead—head down and aching badly—she stumbled toward her home, hoping to get there before she met anyone she knew.
It was the day after Jude’s seventeenth birthday and she was feeling like her whole world had just ended.
She had no idea.
* * * *
When Jude finally reached her home, it was—of course—empty.
There were breakfast dishes on the table, which confused Jude for a moment; half-eaten bacon and eggs were drying out on the plates and the coffee in the cups was cold. Deciding that her parents had simply stepped out for a moment, Jude swallowed down a couple of aspirins and went into her room where she passed out on her bed.
Jude figured that her parents would wake her up when they returned home. She knew that she was in for a good yell-down, so she figured that she might as well get as much sleep in while she could. As it was, Jude slept right around the clock—not waking up until the very next day.
Of course, she didn’t realize it at the time.
It was only when Jude stumbled drowsily into her parents’ bedroom the next morning that she began to sense the truth.
Beside the empty bed—on the night table—her mother kept one of those old wind-up clocks that also displayed the date as well as the time.
According to the clock—it was the 2nd of November.
Over a day had passed and still…no parents.
* * * *
When Jude picked up her phone to call her mom and dad that morning, it was her first realization that the electricity was out. Even though she had been hungover the day before, Jude had instinctively placed her phone in its charger just before she had collapsed onto her bed.
The next morning, when she tried to call her parents, Jude discovered that, not only had her phone not charged—it was completely dead.
A short while later, she also realized that there was no electricity anywhere in the house.
Nothing worked.
* * * *
Because she stank from sleeping in the park, Jude decided to have a quick shower. Like Jay’s and my townhouse, Jude’s house still had running water; it wasn’t exactly hot, though—more tepid and cooling fast. Then she threw on some clothes and went in search of her parents. Since both of their cars were still in the driveway, Jude first tried knocking on the neighbors’ doors; both sides were friends of the family.
Nobody, of course, answered.
Becoming suspicious that something was terribly wrong, Jude went up one side of her block and down the other—knocking on every door.
And still—
no one answered.
Confused and a little scared, Jude walked to the end of the road, where it connected to Argos Street—and found the Tesla.
Like Jay and me, she circled it warily, trying to comprehend what she was seeing. When she finally realized what the buckled seatbelts and key in the ignition meant, something inside of her broke a little.
And she began to run.
* * * *
Jude instinctively knew that she needed to find someone—anyone who could tell her what was going on.
She got as far as Kanan Road—and all the cars just sitting there.
Seeing them, Jude wondered if—while she had been passed out behind the baseball stands—there had been an evacuation because of a terrorist attack or a fire or who-knows-what.
If, because nobody could find her—Jude had been left behind.
* * * *
Knowing that she probably shouldn’t—and feeling embarrassed and very stupid that she still was—Jude walked up Kanan Road to where she knew Porter lived. She stood outside his door, knocking politely, then a little more urgently—then, finally, pounding frantically.
But no one answered.
* * * *
Finally, defeated, Jude headed back toward the shopping malls.
She had initially intended to go into Vons and drink herself into oblivion. However, Ralphs came up first (and also she was still a little gun-shy about returning to Vons after what had happened).
Inside Ralphs—Jude’s ‘comfort-store’—she grabbed some junk food and a bottle of vodka. Then she sat down in the condiments aisle to eat and drink her way through her terror and sorrow.
So, while the first few nights after the event might have been dark and scary for Jay and me, Jude wound up ‘drunk-sleeping’ through most of it.
* * * *
When Jude finally woke up again—dazed and hungover—she walked the half-mile down to the 101 Freeway. Even though there was no traffic noise, Jude kept hoping that she’d find the world somehow still alive along those busy lanes. But when she arrived at the overpass and looked down at all those dead cars stretching for miles, Jude gave up once again.
It was confirmed—the world had ended.
And she had been left behind.
Might as well just go back to Ralphs and eat and drink, she decided. After all, what else could she do in this dead world? It wasn’t like she could even play her beloved Blues music anymore. As far as Jude-the-Rude was concerned, the only thing left for her now—was food and booze.
Of course, Jude never made it as far as Ralphs.
Instead, she hiked up her big girl panties and went back to the scene of her ‘Brandon-humiliation’. In the back of her mind, she even had a ridiculous hope that—somehow—Porter might be camped out in Vons, as confused and scared as she was.
But when she finally jammed the shopping cart between the doors and entered the store, it was obvious to Jude. For whatever the reason—she was truly alone.
Jude had been abandoned.
JOURNAL ENTRY #10
“Guess it would be wrong to just leave Jude here.”
Lily looked at Jay, horrified.
“I’m just kidding,” Jay insisted. “If we left Jude here, she could get sick and choke to death on her own vomit.” She frowned at me—obviously unhappy. “Of course, we have to take Jude with us.”
We were both on our knees beside Jude. The older girl was curled up on her side, snoring slightly. Meanwhile, Lily was seated by her head, patting at what I could see was very greasy, unwashed hair.
Frankly, it kind of icked me out.
But I guess you had to give Jude a pass, hygienically (end of the world, thought she was abandoned—pretty good excuses, I would say).
Jude was wearing a khaki pair of board shorts, with pockets that were bulging with candy bars and Slim Jims. Her top was a simple green t-shirt, but it was as filthy as her hair—covered in food stains and what looked to be remnants of vomit.
“Eww!” said Jay. “I don’t think she’s had a bath in days. Lily is right. She smells.”
“It’s scary,” said Lily, in a tiny voice. “Having a bath.”
We both looked at her, confused.
“When you take a bath,” she explained, “it’s scary now, because you’re alone and there’s no light in the bathroom. I bet she was too scared to take a bath. In case the bad guys come.”
I know it was stupid, but that brought tears to my eyes. All I could think of was this little girl—all by herself in a dark townhouse with only a tiny dog for company—trying to figure out ways to feed and keep herself clean.
It made me feel ashamed somehow—that I should have been more brave, less fearful; that as far as Jude was concerned, I needed to be more understanding. Because even though she was Jude-the-Rude, the fearsome bully of Agoura High, right now, she was just another teenage girl who had been left behind in this strange, scary world.
A girl who needed our help.
“We can clean her up later, Lily,” I said. “Let’s see if we can wake her up first.”
Lily reached out and pushed gently on Jude’s shoulder. “Wake up, please,” she said, in her squeaky, little girl voice. “Time to wake up.”
If anything, Jude’s snores got even stronger.
Swallowing my revulsion at her stench (sorry, Jude), I reached out with both hands and grasped her shoulders, giving her a really good shake. “Come on, Jude,” I spoke loudly. “Wake up!”
Her snores stopped, but she didn’t wake up.
I looked over at Jay, who was staring down at Jude with obvious distaste. “Any ideas?”
Jay pushed at Jude’s shoulder. “Wake up, Jude! It’s time to get up for school! Come on, you’re going to be late!”
No response.
Jay looked over at me and shrugged. “Your turn.”
“There was a wagon in the display at the end of that last aisle,” I said. “We can load her into that and pull her home with us.” I stood up. “I’ll get the cart. Lily, you stay with Jude. Jay, you’re going to have to load whatever supplies will fit into one cart. I think that’s all we’ll probably be able to take with us, so just get the necessities.”
“I can push my cart,” said Lily. “We can use that, too.”
“You’re right,” I said, smiling down at the little girl so eager to help. “We can put some of the lighter stuff in there—like the toilet paper. You’re certainly strong enough to push that. And Pugly can ride in there, too. He’d probably like that, don’t you think?”
I was rewarded with a shining smile from Lily.
It warmed my heart to see her finally responding to us. I knew that Jay and I could never replace her mom and brother, but it was still important to me that she knew she was part of our new family.
Because whatever happened now…we were all in this together.
* * * *
The wagon was actually quite large, both in length and width. It was one of those gardening wagons, with the high, slatted sides and thick wheels. When I lived in Malibu, my dad’s gardener used one just like it, so I knew that it would easily hold and move Jude’s weight.
I stuck a couple of rolls of paper towels at one end to cradle Jude’s head, then opened the small gate in the side to help make it easier to maneuver the girl into it. Jay was back by that time and she grabbed onto Jude’s legs, while I reached under her arms from behind.
“One, two, three…”
We both lifted, hoisting Jude up and onto the wagon. It tilted a little and we had to quickly push and jiggle, until her weight was distributed evenly and the wagon fell back onto the ground.
Because Jude was a tall girl, her legs didn’t quite fit. I tried folding them at the knees and tucking them into the corners but—even passed out—Jude resisted and kept throwing them over the side.
“She should be okay like that,” I finally decided. “As long as her legs don’t hit the ground, we’ll still be able to pull her.”
“And we can take her str
aight down the middle of the street,” added Jay. “That will make it easier.”
* * * *
“My mom says that guns are bad.”
Jay and I turned and looked down at Lily. She was standing beside her small shopping cart, fiddling with its orange flag.
“They’re very dangerous,” I agreed. “You have to be very careful when you touch them. You have to know what you’re doing or you could hurt yourself or somebody else.”
“Do you think Jude knows what she’s doing with her gun?” asked Lily.
“Jude has a gun?!”
“It’s under the wagon,” said Lily, pointing. “It dropped out of her pocket when you put her into it.”
Jay and I both bent down to look. Sure enough, there was a handgun on the floor.
“Holy cow!” I whispered.
“Jude really does have a gun!” Jay looked amazed. “I wonder if it’s loaded.”
She reached out a hand to check, but I quickly smacked it back. “What do you think you’re doing?!”
“Getting the gun.” She looked at me as if I was an idiot.
“What if it goes off?”
“My Auntie took me shooting last summer in Pakistan. I know how to be careful.”
“Just don’t aim it our way!”
“I’m not stupid!” Jay reached down and pulled out the gun, careful not to point it toward Lily or me. “That’s weird,” she murmured, turning it over in her hands. “It doesn’t have a safety.”
