by J. B. Craig
While waiting, they explored the MRE’s, opening the waterproof bag and looking at the contents. The bulky bags each had a powdered drink mix, an appetizer, a main dish, and a packet with necessities like napkins, salt and pepper, hot sauce, toilet paper, and a plastic spoon. were easier to pack when broken down. When Maria made a face at her beef stew mix, Pete looked over to see what she had gotten and laughed. “Tell you what,” he said. “I’m already pretty sick of beef, but I’ll trade you the chicken if you want it.”
“You can have the drink mix, too,” Maria offered, handing the offending items to him as Pete chuckled. “I’m not a fan of sweet drinks.”
“You don’t think you’ll get tired of water?”
Maria shrugged. “If I do, it’s a problem for later,” she said. Trade made, they packed everything back up. “We were probably okay for food since we still have Margie’s stuff, but I’m glad they gave us a little TP. I feel a little stupid for not thinking of that when we were back at the hotel, or I would’ve brought some.”
“Actually, I did,” Pete said proudly, patting his pack. “I took out the cardboard center so they’d pack flat. We’re good for T.P.”
“Have you ever tried actually eating any of these MREs?” Maria asked. When Pete shook his head, she said, “My dad made my family try some once. The point of them is that they’re a whole day’s worth of nutrients in one little pack - which means they’re absolutely disgusting. And they’re, uh, hard to digest.”
“Some of my buddies at the station were in ROTC,” Pete said. “To be honest, if it comes down to eating those, we may not need TP for a few days.”
“You might not,” Maria said primly, wrinkling her nose, and then shot Pete a teasing grin. “For those of us who don’t have built-in aim, it’s a little more important.”
Pete burst out laughing, and Maria was glad she’d made the potty joke - she enjoyed seeing him laugh, but she’d also been enjoying the more serious conversation they’d been having beforehand. It was nice to talk to someone who understood that life existed outside the college party scene - Maria wasn’t completely un-fun, but even some of her close friends constantly lived by the work hard, drink hard mantra, and there’d be no way she could live that way and still juggle grades and jobs. Pete seemed a lot more balanced than the typical self-absorbed frat boys she’d been disappointed to meet so far.
At dusk, the two reluctantly got up, dusted themselves off and pushed their bikes to the railroad tracks. They decided to walk the bridge rather than risk a ride, since they had just enough light not to fall off it. It was a long, slow push with the tires bumping rhythmically between the railroad ties. They had to stop in the middle once, as one of their ramen packs fell through and loudly clattered off beams and supports to the water below, but no one seemed alerted to their presence, and they were able to make it across without any other scares.
When they got to the other side, they quietly hurried down the embankment and through the small neighborhood on the other side. “Do you want to stop?” Pete asked.
Maria shook her head. “If they’re going to start cordoning off areas, we should try to keep going,” she said.
“You’re the boss, Chief” Pete said. With that, they hopped back on their bikes.
Continuing to follow the sergeant’s advice, they skirted a wide circle around the Army base. Maria lost track of how long they rode - she thought they’d probably made it all the way through Aberdeen and had to be getting close to Baltimore, but she wasn’t positive.
While the April day had been warm, the evening was chilly, and the moonlight they’d been able to travel by had started to gradually disappear under cloud cover as they rode. Maria, so intent on keeping up with Pete and his long legs, hadn’t noticed he’d stopped until she had to pull up short, almost running into him.
“Maria,” Pete said, “I’m exhausted. You’re exhausted. We’ve got to be getting close to the city. I think we need to get off of the road and find a spot to lay low for the night.”
A part of Maria wanted to argue, but she knew it was only her adrenaline talking. She’d be worse off in the morning if they didn’t get some rest. “Yeah,” she agreed, running a hand through her hair. “You’re right. We’ve got some gear to brave the elements, but - maybe we should see if someone will let us in out of the cold for the night.”
“What if we find a hostile homeowner?” asked Pete.
“Honestly, I think we should risk it,” Maria said. “We should still be far enough away from the more crowded areas that the looting shouldn’t have made its way here. And we’re traveling through the same disaster that everyone is living through.”
Pete sighed. “Yeah,” he agreed. After a moment of thought, he added, “You know what I’m wondering?”
“What?”
“What if we’re able to find a vacant house?” Pete asked. “It’s plausible. Enough people have long enough commutes that their cars would’ve gotten stuck; they’d have had to stay somewhere else for the night. Maybe we can just keep a lookout for them to come back, and get some sleep in the meantime.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Maria said. “If we can’t find one, we’ll just knock, I guess. But we can certainly try.”
In the end, they didn’t have to ask for space. They rode past several houses that were clearly occupied, candles burning in the windows and smoke coming from chimneys. After another few minutes riding, they saw a house without a car out front or in the driveway. It was a cute, friendly-looking two-story river house, with a small sailboat docked out back. As Pete pointed out, the angelic garden decor and small pinwheel “didn’t scream ‘armed and dangerous,’” but Maria still approached cautiously to knock on the door. Pete covered her with the rifle, just in case - she’d gone unarmed, as she didn’t want to scare anyone.
After knocking for several minutes, she waved Pete over. “Nobody’s home,” she said. “At least, nobody who can hear us knocking. I think we should be okay to sleep here if we can find a way to get in.”
Pete cheerfully dropped off the front stoop and into the nearby bushes. Maria gave him a sidelong glance. “Uh, Pete?”
“Firefighter,” he said. “I know how to get us in through most commercial windows.”
Maria stood there for a minute, watching as he jimmied the window. “Hey, Pete,” she said. “Know what would be really funny?”
“Hm?” Pete asked. Maria stepped to the side and lifted up the welcome mat - and burst out laughing. “So, I was totally just joking, but I’ll take it,” she said, and when Pete looked over, she dangled a house key between her fingers triumphantly.
Pete snorted. “I guess if you want to do it the easy way,” he teased. “Do people really still do that?”
“Guess so,” Maria said. She twisted the doorknob and let herself in. “Hello?” she called. “Anyone home? Just looking to get out of the wind for the night!” When no response came, she shrugged and stepped into the house, Pete following behind her.
Pete was able to find their cleaning supplies and grabbed a few buckets. He filled them with water from the river and put one in each bathroom. “We’re good to go for flushing. You’ll be glad to know we won’t have to break out my toilet paper or use the tiny packets from the MREs,” he announced, as he walked carefully in an effort not to spill.
Maria looked up blankly, trying to respond to him but failing to find the words. Pete smiled at her. “Why don’t you get some sleep,” he said gently. “You’re giving me the thousand-yard stare.”
“I should -” Maria yawned, stretching out sore muscles from another long day’s ride. “I should be helping you. You must be tired too.”
“Used to double-shifting it at the station when we’re short-handed. I gotcha.” Pete shrugged. “We probably don’t need to keep watch in this area, but I’ll feel better if I at least check the windows occasionally. You can catch a couple hours’ shut-eye in the meantime, and I’ll wake you up for a shift later. We’ll try to leave before dayligh
t.”
Maria gave him a slow, sleepy nod, trudging up the stairs. She went into the master bedroom, slipped underneath the comforter, and slept the exhausted slumber of someone who has never ridden a bike so much.
She surfaced several hours later to the feeling of someone wiggling her foot. She blinked groggily to see Pete, and he gave her a little grin. “All clear,” he said. “I’ve got a small fire going in the fireplace, and I made us a little food out of what they had lying around the kitchen. Luckily they have a propane stove. Your breakfast awaits; I’m going to crash down the hall.”
True to his word, Pete had prepared a breakfast of scrambled eggs from a carton of egg substitute, bacon, and biscuits. “Biscuits?” Maria wondered aloud. “What guy does that?” She looked in the trash and saw the pre-made cylinder that he had popped open, and gained a measure of respect when she realized he had to cook them in the cast-iron skillet on the stovetop gas burners as the oven electronics appeared to be fried.
She ate her breakfast while sitting near enough to the fireplace to keep warm. She was armed with her revolver, reloaded since the attempted grand theft bicycle. Though it went against some safety principles, she had also filled the empty chamber, as carrying an empty chamber wasn’t worth the trade-off of being caught unprepared.
Maria caught herself starting to nod off a few times. After the third, she decided to get up and walk the property to keep herself away. She dressed in layers, including the hoodie that her father packed for her.
The house was a modest river house with three bedrooms and two baths, including the master bath. Both the yard and the house itself were well-maintained, but after her quick tour, Maria suspected that the property wasn’t occupied full-time, judging by how few perishables the kitchen and pantry had. The real treasure of the house was its water access, including the dock she’d seen during their earlier check of the property. A small sailboat was moored, and based on the ‘21’ stencil-painted onto the side, she’d bet that it was a 21-footer.
Maria suddenly realized that this house was probably to some other family what the family home in Virginia was to her. Her Daddy was no doubt worried sick about her, her mom, and Jared, as that’s what he did best. Even the instinct to call him Daddy was rare, as she only called him that when she was in trouble, something had broken, or she needed money. The reality of the situation hit her like a punch to the gut, and she sat down on the dock and cried - for everything that the world had been, and for the losses that they were likely to have to endure now that her dad’s long-foretold doomsday scenario was here.
8. Late-Night Visitors
After a good, indulgent cry, Maria did her best to pull herself together. She could do as much crying as she wanted once she and Pete were safely ensconced in the family house in Rock Harbor - and she needed a plan for the next step of the journey.
Maria let herself in through the back door, heading back to the chair by the fireplace. She heard a sound in the front yard and looked out to see three people sneaking toward the house. They were hunched over and close together as they slowly crept towards the front door.
Maria pulled her pistol and watched out the front door as two men and a woman stopped at the foot of the front steps. The smaller man lifted up the welcome mat and got the key as the larger man watched the road, a gun in his hand. Maria knew she didn’t have time to wake Pete, so as soon as she heard the key turn in the lock, and the door opened, she pointed her pistol at it.
“Freeze,” she called. Now that she could see him more clearly, she could tell the smaller man actually a boy, probably a young teenager. “Please don’t move,” she asked. “I don’t want any trouble.”
The boy did indeed freeze, but the older man - probably his father, judging by the family resemblance - pointed his pistol through the door at her head. “We won’t have any trouble, missy,” he said, “As long as you get that gun out of my son’s face.”
The click of a safety came from behind her, and Maria looked quickly behind her to see Pete, face dead serious as he came up behind Maria, pistol at the ready. Though his face was stern, his voice was soothing as he urged,“Let’s all take it easy, folks. Nobody wants to hurt anyone, right?”
With a gusty intake of breath, the woman standing behind them bellowed, “Settle down, people!” Maria could see now that she was wounded, favoring a bloody ankle. “Everyone put your guns down and let’s get some breakfast before the food in the fridge all goes.” As she limped into the living room like she owned it, she said, “You kids too. Come on.” Everyone with a gun just looked at the woman in surprise, while the boy followed her into the house. The boy nodded and smiled at Maria.
“Hi. Thanks for not shooting me.”
The man, Pete, and Maria all cautiously lowered their weapons as she opened the freezer, took out a bunch of melting food, and dug around in the counter drawers for a match to light the gas stove burners. “Now, you don’t look like bad kids,” she said. “We’ve all had a rough forty-eight hours and I’m sure you didn’t come in here looking to do ill.”
Maria and Pete cautiously shook their heads, and she nodded sympathetically. “My name is Barb Antonio,” she said. “The big guy with the Glock that he is going to holster, now,” she said pointedly, “Is my loving husband Ron, and this is our son Ronnie Junior.”
Ronnie gave them a hesitant smile, looking between Barb and a grumbling Ron as Barb continued. “Now, I’m sure we gave you a fright with us showing up at dawn, but this is our house. So, let’s hear your story while we all eat.”
Maria was the first to speak. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m Maria Creighton. We biked here from Penn - we both go to school there - and we were trying to find a vacant house to sleep in so we could get out of the wind without bothering anyone.” As Barb rooted around in the freezer, Maria also confessed, “We ate your eggs and other perishables from the fridge, and we both slept in a bed. I promise I didn’t wear my boots into bed, though.”
“Of course not,” Barb said. She was calm, as if the whole affair amused her more than it upset her. “And who is this jumpy young man?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I woke up to the commotion and saw a gun on Maria. I’ll put this away,” he said, holstering his own. “Peter Summerville, EMT and starving college kid, at your service.”
“Penn?” asked Ronnie. “That’s a pretty good school, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Maria agreed. “Ivy League. Are you looking at schools?”
“Sort of. I’m a little too young to be seriously looking,” Ronnie admitted. “But my dream is to go to Johns Hopkins in Baltimore. I want to be a doctor, and their med school is amazing.”
“Son, there really isn’t a Hopkins anymore, remember?” Ron reminded him gently. “We saw it burn down.”
Maria was heart-broken by Ronnie’s stricken face. She looked over at Pete, hoping he was listening, but he was gently urging Barb to sit down for a minute so he could look at her injury. “That was Hopkins, Dad?” Ronnie asked.
“Son,” Ron said sadly, “That was most of Baltimore.”
Ron was a company man; he’d spent years managed a plant for a large steel manufacturer over in Sparrows’ Point. He was on third shift, so he had happened to be home with the family when the lights went out. Their ‘little surprise’ Ronnie had come late in life, and both of his parents clearly loved him dearly.
The Antonios’ primary home was in Essex, closer to the steel plant - the river house belonged to Barb’s parents, who had left it to her when they passed. Barb decided that they’d keep it as a weekend house, since Ron was getting closer to retirement than he’d admit.
Barb was an engaging storyteller, her eyes brimming with emotion as she told the tale of their lucky escape. “Hon, it got crazy in a hurry,” she said. “Soon as it was clear the power wouldn’t be coming back for some time, troublemakers started to crawl outta the woodwork. Looters, fire-starters. We think it started in the same neighborhood that rioted a few years ago that started burning f
irst, but who knows.”
“It wouldn’t have been so bad,” Ron said, “Except that all the vehicles got knocked out, too. No police, no firefighters, no EMTs.”
“We saw the fires and decided that it was time to head here,” Barb agreed. “Ron got his gun, I threw our valuables in my purse, and we had to go. I didn’t want us taking any chances.”
“We walked several miles, and that’s not too easy on these old bones,” she said, smiling. “We had to detour around some sort of shootout. I slipped falling down the embankment and cut myself. My men here had to help me hobble through the rest of the trip.” She smiled at Maria and the boys, who were picking through the pantry and cooking while she rested her ankle. “It’s fifteen miles from home to here and I felt every step of it. Thank you, Pete - let’s let bygones be bygones and eat a good meal together.”
