Is she ok?  Where is she?”

“She’s at home.”

“Where exactly is home?”  My mind floats over the next twenty three questions I want to ask and things I want to know.

“Olympia.  By CapitalHigh School.  Over by where you used to live.”

“Is anyone else there with her?  Her parents?  Where are they?”  Bringing the number of questions on my mind down to twenty two.  Yes, that was only one question.

“I don’t know,” he says turning his attention back to his cell, fingers speedily working their way across the buttons.

“Robert,” I say to get his attention.  Yeah, that didn’t work.  His mind is focused on the next letters in his text.  “Robert!”  I say a little louder.  He looks over at me in mid text.  “Ask her if she can talk and just call her.”

His fingers start hammering out yet again on the keys.  I look over at the girls and Mom.  Bri has rested her head against my mom’s shoulder and mom’s arm is around her shoulders.  Nicole is sitting there with her hands in her lap watching Robert.  I can tell Michelle’s response by Robert’s action as he stands up and starts to walk over to the kitchen area punching buttons and bringing his phone to his ear.  Some things must just be genetically coded.  He likes privacy when talking on the phone just like me.  It doesn’t matter who it happens to be, both he and I will walk away to be alone to talk on the phone.  Not really sure why, it just is.

He walks over to the back door looking out of the windows by the desk.  I see his lips moving as he starts speaking into the phone.  No words reach my ears but that is not uncommon.  My hearing has declined from years of jet engine noise in the Air Force.  We wore ear plugs while in the jet, but not on the ramp and, at any one time, there were many aircraft with their engines either starting up or already running.  The cumulative effect has been an overall hearing loss.  Others refer to it as selective hearing but I beg to differ otherwise.

I walk over to Robert and stop a few feet behind.  “What is she saying?”  I ask trying to get my number of questions down into at least the single digits.

“She’s alone in the house,” he replies covering the microphone end with his hand.

“Where are her parents?”

“She doesn’t know.”

“Okay.  Tell here we’ll be there within the hour to pick her up.”

A flash of relief passes through his eyes as he relays this back to her.  I can tell he is about to end the conversation and hang up.  “Wait,” I say.

“Tell her to gather up some changes of clothes, some warm stuff like coats and sweatshirts, shoes, a sleeping bag if she has one, and whatever toiletries she thinks she needs.  Oh, and tell her we’ll call just prior to getting there.”

He relays this request before closing the cell phone and heads toward the back door.  I know he thinks we are leaving right then and now to get Michelle.

“Wait one,” I say.  “I want to talk about something first.”  A quick look of annoyance and frustration crosses his features as he turns to look at me.  Another genetic aspect I guess.

Robert walks back to his chair and sits down, leaning over with his elbows on his knees.  I sit beside him in a similar fashion.  I look over at Nic, Bri and mom, water bottle in my hand, and tell them, “I’m going to get Lynn.  Or at least try.”

Through my peripheral, I see Robert raise an eyebrow and look sideways at me.  “I’m going with,” he says like there is no other possibility.  “Isn’t she in Kuwait though?”

“Yeah, she is.  We’ll have to fly over.”

“Dad,” Bri says, the first sounds uttered by her since asking about her mom, “you can’t go without me.”

“Nor me,” Nic chimes in.

I realize that they don’t know where their mom is, where the rest of their family is, with the exclusion of my mom, nor their friends.  I am the only one left to them.  It is at this moment that I understand and see that my kids are coming with me.

“Mom?”  I ask with the rest of the question left unsaid.

“I think I’m staying here,” she responds understanding the unasked question and not attempting to talk me out of my decision nor reason that the kids should stay as well.  She fully understands that this is something I have to do and that I want my kids with me.

“I can’t very well leave you here alone.”

“I am not without my own resources and abilities,” she responds back.

“Okay, we’re leaving in the morning and may be gone for up to ten days.  I’m not sure we will be able to maintain contact.  Robert, let’s go get Michelle.”

Robert heads toward the door again.  I start to follow him but turn quickly back to mom and the girls on the couch, “You should probably grab blankets and nails while we’re gone.  We should think about covering up the windows at the very least.  Maybe bring those pallets up from the shed so we can put some form of barricade up on the windows.”

“You two go.  We’ll dig some things up around here,” Mom says giving both Nic and Bri reassuring hugs.

Robert picks the shotgun up and continues toward the door.  I pick up the Beretta, holster it, and follow him out.

Outside, on a day where we would normally be gearing up for a hike along the river or on our mountain bikes tearing up and exploring some new trail, I instead tell Robert to put the shotgun in the Jeep and then meet to me back here.  He looks at me in askance but heads there anyway.  I walk around to the side of the front porch, really just a small deck, pick up one of the hoses coiled there and cut off three sections of hose approximately five feet long laying them on the ground beside me.  Robert finishes and is back beside me by the time I have finished.

“Go down to the lower shed.  There should be two or three metal gas canisters in there.  The tall ones.  Bring those back up here.  Oh, and that big, long-necked funnel on the shelf,” I tell him.

As he heads down to the shed, I walk over to my place.  Beside my bed, I have two TAC-II Gerber knives.  These are double-edged knives with serrations and 6 ½ inch blades.  I grab both of them and head back out.  Robert is lugging two metal five gallon gas cans and funnel up the path from the shed and we meet by the hoses.

“Are they empty?” I ask, handing him one of the knives.

He lifts first one, and then the other shaking them.  I hear liquid sloshing around in both.  Picking one up, I walk toward the road as Robert picks up the other and follows.  Whatever is in there may be old or have condensation so I do not trust the content of the cans.  Unscrewing the cap, I dump mine on the gravel road.  Robert does the same.  I do not feel overly guilty about this as I have the feeling mankind’s carbon footprint is now going to be drastically reduced.

Securing the equipment in the back of the Jeep, we start her up, back out of the drive, and head down the road.  “Don’t worry,” I tell him once we get up to speed, “we’ll get her and she’ll be just fine.”

“I know,” he says reaching over to the radio and starts going through the stations.  Good idea, I think to myself.  After going through all of the stations twice, he leans back into his seat.  Nothing but light static.  “Try the AM,” I suggest.  Again, there is nothing but an increase in the static noise.

We make it to the highway with both of us looking out of the windows drifting in our own thoughts.  I still have not seen a single living person other than us.  Nothing moving but wildlife – I notice that I have now put the dog I saw earlier into this category.  The roads are still empty and the only thing moving is the sun as it wends its way westward toward the hills.  The hills are bald in many places due to the logging in the area.  Well, that’s a bonus, I think to myself, at least we’ll have the trees back.  Not that I will likely live long enough to see it fully forested again but the thought is reassuring nonetheless.

A gas station sits to our left at the corner of our road and the highway with only a white, newer model Ford F-150 parked in the lot.  Newer model means locking gas caps but I pull into the gas station nonetheless hoping the keys are nearby.  Well, hoping the keys and not some transformed, crazed owner.  We park about ten yards from the pickup and don’t see anything inside through its windows.  I look at the gas station front and see nothing there except dark windows staring back.

“Okay, let’s get out but keep your eyes peeled,” I say as Robert reaches for the door handle.  “Is that thing safetied?”  I nod toward the shotgun.  He looks down at the button on the trigger guard and nods.

We meet in front of the Jeep.  “I’m going to go check the truck.  You stay here, keep an eye out around us and keep me covered.  Get my attention if you see anything moving and be ready to get back into the Jeep quickly,” I tell him taking my gun out of the holster.

“Do you want me to come with you and cover you?”

“No, just stay here.  You have the back.”

“Okay, Dad.”

I slide the safety off and check for a round in the chamber as I approach the truck in a semi-crouching, sidling walk, angling to the cab from the rear.  I can’t see anyone inside but I also don’t want to be surprised by a suddenly opening door slamming into me.  About ten feet from the driver’s door, I glance around, checking the gas station store and the drive-up coffee stand in the corner of the lot.  This county probably has more of these drive-up coffee stands per capita than anywhere else in the world.  Reaching the door, I stand next to it but away from its range of motion.  Rising, I peek in the window.

I wasn’t expecting to see anything so the vision that catches my eye sends a small adrenaline shot through my body.  Inside, a man is slumped sideways on the front seat with his legs resting on the driver’s side floorboard.  The one eye I can see stares blankly at the dash in front and there is a wet mass of something on the seat and floorboard in front of his head.  I know what this is from the couple of years I spent as a firefighter/EMT following the military.  The adrenaline junkie part of me had not left by then.  Those years also told me that death is never pretty.

“See anything?”  I call out to Robert.

“No,” he calls back.

It is a king cab, extra cab, extended cab or whatever they are calling it nowadays.  My eyes venture to the back seat.  Nothing there.  Well, at least, nobody is there.  A Styrofoam coffee cup on its side and an empty candy bar wrapper are all I see from this vantage point.  I look to the steering column and see a patch of leather dangling on the far side.

“No way!”  I breathe quietly.  I step back, reach for the handle, and pull open the door.

The stench pours out of the door like a physical presence.  It is overpowering and I swear the light of the day grows dim.

“Whoa Nelly!”  I say waving a hand in front of my face and hold my breath as I stumble backwards a step.  Okay, more like two or three steps.

He hasn’t had enough time to decompose that much; the smell is a lovely combination of feces, vomit, and who knows what else.  Regaining some semblance of composure, I make mental note to self: Have Vaseline handy.  That was one thing I disliked when in the fire department or riding along with the ambulance; the call of someone who had died in their sleep or, quite commonly, on the toilet.  I didn’t mind death or bodies, have worked many gruesome and messy scenes without being affected, and witnessed and been a part of countless others in the military but it was the smell of bowels letting go that bothered me the most.  Vaseline under the nose seemed to help some with the smell.

Holding my breath, I walk back up to the truck and pull the keys out of the ignition.  I think of pulling the guy out or at least rolling down the window.  That way, if we need to use the truck, it won’t smell so bad.  But clarity once again comes.  If we need a pickup down the road, there are plenty of new ones available, so I just close the door.  The sound of the door shutting is unnaturally loud in the stillness.  There is indeed a gas key on the key ring and I open up the fuel tank.

Back at the Jeep, I grab a section of hose and a gas can.  “Bring that other one over to the truck,” I tell Robert.  He grabs the can out of the back and follows.  “Do you know how to siphon?”

“Not really.”

“Okay, watch,” I tell him putting the hose into the fuel inlet hole.  “Slide the hose in all of the way but don’t force it once you meet resistance.  You want it close to or at the bottom of the tank.”

I slide the hose down until it comes to a stop.  “Now notice how I put the hose in so the arc of the hose is arched up.  That’s for two reasons.  If it was arced the other way, the hose would merely slide along the bottom with the top of the hose then possibly rising above the fuel level,” I say looking up at him.

“And the second,” he asks.

“Kneel down here with me.”  I point to the tank.  “Now listen.”  I move the hose up and down slightly.  “Do you hear the noise of the hose sliding against the inside of the tank?”  He nods.  “That lets you know you are actually in the tank.  Some later models have anti-siphon screens on the inlet tube to prevent you from putting a hose into the actual tank.  If you arced the hose the other way, it would be harder to tell, or hear the hose in the tank.”

“Now, here comes the fun part.”  A friend many, many years ago would cup his hands around the inlet and blow into the hose forcing an overpressure inside the tank.  Once he took his mouth away from the hose, the added pressure would start the gas flowing in the hose.  I, for whatever reason, could never make this work.  Not that I ran around siphoning.

Glancing around quickly to make sure we were still alone, I put my hand on the hose just past the highest part of the hose on my side.  “Here, put your hand on the hose next to mine.”  He did as I asked.  “You want to feel for a slight decrease in temp as the gas flows by your hand.  The idea is to drink as little gas as possible.  The ideal being zero.  Once you feel the gas pass by your hand, quickly put the end of the hose into the can and then let gravity do its thing.”

Opening the gas can, I create suction on the hose, feel the gas pass by my hand, and quick-jam the hose into the gas can.  I hear it pouring into the can, and, yay, no drinking of the gas.  Ideal conditions achieved.  Filling both gas cans, we carry them to the Jeep.  With me holding the funnel, Robert pours the gas in from both cans.  Whatever ideal conditions were achieved during the siphoning process is quickly lost putting the gas in.

“Try putting some in the Jeep,” I say after like the fourth time my hand becomes soaked.

“I’m trying.”

“Well, try harder.  Maybe we aren’t going about this the right way.  Try not getting a bit of it in the funnel.  Maybe that’ll work better.”

He gives me a big grin, the first in a while.  We have always joked around like this and a sense of normalcy settles in on us with a warm glow.  Our relationship has always been close, I mean very tight, and we both get a sense that perhaps things will be alright as long as we have this between us.

He gives as good as he takes.  I can remember playing a co-op game on our 360.  We were in the middle of a battle against the aliens on Halo 3.  Greatly outnumbered but holding our own, he comments, “You are a really good shot.”  I get ready to thank him when he continues on, “I mean every single shot you fired hit me.”  Yes, my gamer tag in Halo should have been ‘friendly fire.’

We finally manage to get the fuel in the Jeep, well, at least some of it, secure the cans and put everything back in.  I make mental note to secure a larger funnel and walk back to the white F-150 to put the cap back on, set the keys next to the cap, and close the fuel door.  Robert has retrieved the shotgun from the front seat of the Jeep and is surveilling the area.  Good, I didn’t even have to tell him.

“Okay, ready?”  I ask.

“Yep,” he says and climbs in.

The fuel gauge reads a little over ¾ of a tank.  Good deal.  That should be good enough for today, tomorrow, and to get back.  I pull out of the gas station, up to the stop sign on the highway, look left, right, and left again - yes, old habits, only, they aren’t really that old - before pulling across the northbound lanes and turn.  Southbound toward Olympia.

I drive by the casino on our right after about a mile down the road.  I think it may make a safe place but realize there are far too many entry ways and it would be difficult to secure.  I mentally strike it off of my list of secure places in the event we need one.  With the casino sliding past us, Robert asks, “What kind of plane are we taking?”

I fully expected him to be concentrating on picking up Michelle but he is already ahead of that now that we were on the way.  He always surprises me with his thinking abilities and inner toughness.  That same fortitude that I noticed when he hadn’t texted Michelle back that night.  Now, that would have been tough and must have gnawed at him.  He is also one to keep his head about him.

“I’m thinking about a C-17 from McChord if there isn’t anyone there,” I answer back.

“Do you know how to fly one?”

“Um, sure,” I answer back with a shrug.

“Why not a C-130 like you used to fly?”

“Too slow.  And besides, they don’t have any up there anymore that I know of.  Traded those out some time ago.  I think the ranges are about the same in any case.”

“Wouldn’t you want one you were more comfortable with though?”  Robert asks knowing you can’t just arbitrarily fly any aircraft you choose because you know how to fly.  He was close to getting his Private Pilot license and would have completed that this summer.  His grand master plan was to head off to the Air Force Academy and go fly fighters.  He is fully capable of doing just that.

“Well, yes, but it’ll take us twice as long, and, like I said, there aren’t any there anyway.  It’s going to be a bitch enough with all of the refueling stops along the way, I don’t want to poke around at it too,” I say looking over at him.  “I’m not saying there won’t be a steep learning curve needed,” I add after seeing a guarded look cross his face.  “And, I will need you to be my co-pilot.”

I see flash of fire and excitement course through his eyes.  To the extent that I am thankful there isn’t anything flammable in the immediate vicinity.  Oh wait, there is the gas on my hand although evaporated, I think as I mentally tuck my hand under me.

“Okay, grab that note pad”, I say nodding toward the tablet sitting in the glove box in front of him with a pen attached.  “We need to make a list of what we need to bring with us tomorrow.”

He grabbed the paper and prepared to write.  We think of items and potentialities as we drive to Olympia.  When we finish, this is what we have:

Water – from gas station – 1 bottle person per day – 40 min

Food - canned (from gas station)

            Bread – if it is still good

            Jam and peanut butter

            Plastic silverware

Can opener

Flight suits *I have about 10 of them with rank and patches

Flight jackets * I have one summer and one winter jacket

Sleeping bags – 4

Clothes

            Changes

            Gloves

            Warm coats

            Sweat shirts

Toiletries

            Toothbrush

            Toothpaste

Flashlights

Batteries – D and AA

Battery operated cell phone charger – in Jeep

Toilet paper – 5 rolls

First aid – in aircraft

Sunglasses

Tool box

Towels and washcloth’s – 4

Rope – 100’ in shed

Charts, maps, approach plates – worldwide – base ops or wing scheduling desk

Knee boards – in briefcase

Flight computer – in briefcase

Paper tablet – writing on one

Felt pens – red, black, and blue

Binoculars

Weapons - shotgun, Beretta, knives, ammo

I pull off of the exit ramp just as we finish our list.  This list is going to put a serious dent in the available space we have in the Jeep.  Especially with four people.  I am assuming that Michelle is going with us.  I think about using the truck at the gas station but we may manage with the Jeep.  This has been a long day.  It feels like a week has passed since getting the kids just this morning.

“Okay, tell me where I need to go Robert.”

“Just go up by Capital, it’s only a couple of blocks away from the school,” he answers putting the tablet with the list on it back in the glove compartment and pulls out his phone. 

After several seconds, he says, “We’re just pulling off of the highway and almost there.”  He listens says, “Okay,” after getting what I can only assume is a reply and closes his phone.

“She’s waiting outside for us,” he says turning to me.

I had expected a little traffic or to see someone at least but we are met with the same severe lack of movement as we drive through the west side of Olympia.  There are very few cars on the road, meaning off of the road on the side or in parking lots.  At the stoplight about to turn left, the Safeway to our right gives the same message as did the Wal-Mart and Fred Meyer earlier.  No one is here.  The stoplight ahead blinks red, the only indication that mankind was here not so long ago.

I turn left and a high school baseball field appears to our right.  To the left, the new strip mall is vacant.  Well, almost; I see two cars sitting in the lot.  It’s a little warm inside, I think as the sun gleams through my driver side window.  On any other day, I would take down the Jeep top for a nice, summer day in the sun.  Not knowing what to expect, that is just not going to happen today.  Instead, I unzip and pull the window down to the inside and tuck it along the door to let a little air in.

“Well?”  I ask as the baseball field slides past us.

“Turn right here and then a left in front of the school,” he nods toward the street we are approaching.

A cat wanders out of the trees and dashes across the street vanishing between two houses as we approach the high school.  The normal things you would see as far as animals go thrown in with the total lack of people just makes everything all that much more eerie.  A painted rock appears on the right by some trees.  This is the high school rock that the seniors paint as the school year progressed; changing colors throughout the year.  I remember that rock well.  Not that I attended here but I used to live fairly close.

One night, a girlfriend of mine decided, along with her friend, that it would be a good idea to paint the rock.  Oh, I might add that there was a little alcohol involved with that decision.  As was seemingly usual, I was tasked to go along.  There was my girlfriend, her friend, several Mike’s hard lemonades, a can of spray paint, and me.  Every time a car would come by, they would whisper-scream ‘a car’ and scramble back into trees and bushes.  I would just stand there and watch them do their ninja impressions.  I mean, we were just painting a rock; hardly something that was going to get us anything like solitary confinement or pounding rocks with hammers.

With the addition of more drinks, the whisper-screams became less of a whisper and more of a scream and the scrambles into the trees would get a little further from the road.  Oh, did I mention there was a large, steep hill.  Well, it was inevitable.  Like an apple hanging from a tree, it was only a matter of time before the apple let go and fell to the ground.  Then, the apple let go.  One of the many ‘a car’ notifications and subsequent ninja moves was followed by a screech which was itself followed milliseconds later by a second one.  I turned to look as both of their flawless ninja impressions transitioned into that of an avalanche; both literally going head over heels and tumbling down the hill.  That was when I learned that laughing heartily, until tears streamed down my face, at two women who had just scraped a hillside free of shrubbery with multiple parts of their bodies was not conducive to one’s health; note taken.

I turn left in front of the school and see a blond girl sitting by the curb about a block and a half away.  I have never met Michelle but have seen her a couple of times when dropping Robert off.  Beside her sits a suitcase with the handle still up; must be a roller-style and she is sitting on a military-style duffle bag.  We pull up next to the curb.  She brushes off her jeans and picks up her duffle.  Robert jumps out as soon as we stop and walks to her as I scan the neighborhood.

Just your normal middle-class neighborhood; houses built close together, small front yards, concrete driveways leading up to double car garages.  Not that there is absolutely anything wrong with that, just that the contractors building these neighborhoods only build three or four different varieties and use paint colors to provide the variety.  The road we are on ends a half block up in a “T” intersection; houses at the end and across the intersection continue to the right and left in the same styles.  All of the windows stare back emptily.  Some of them have the drapes pulled across the windows and some with curtains drawn back revealing only darkness.

I continue to watch the neighborhood looking for movement of any kind as Robert gives her a quick hug, grabs her suitcase, and both of them head to the back throwing her gear into the rear seat.  My thoughts once again turn to how much room we are going to have versus how much we are going to need.  The truck, or any truck, is sounding like a better idea for packing our gear and driving up to McChord tomorrow.  The thought that crosses my mind for seemingly the hundredth time is that I would love to find and raid an armory at either McChord or at FortLewis.  I feel though that time is of the essence and there won’t be time to play hide and seek with an armory.

I step out as they finish with the gear and walk back to them.  “Hi Michelle, I’m Jack,” I say and she sticks out her hand.  I shake it and continue, “Sorry to meet you for the first time under these circumstances and doubly sorry to ask you this, but do you know if your parents had any weapons?”

She looks up at me with blue eyes; a shade darker than either Robert’s or Bri’s.  Damn, does everyone surviving have blond hair and blue eyes? I think as my thoughts drift to Lynn.

“Yes, my dad had, or has guns in his closet.”

“Do you think we could get them?”  I ask bringing myself back to focus on the now and feeling a little embarrassed about asking.

“I can run in and get it,” she says.

“Is there anyone or anything in the house that was with you?”

“Not that I saw or heard and I’ve been in there since yesterday morning,” she answers starting toward the front door.

“Robert, go with her.”

Better to put Robert into a controlled scenario knowing that, at some point, he is going to need confidence and experience in various situations and that I am going to have to get past the protective mode.  Michelle had been in there for some time and is unharmed so it seems like an ideal situation to start.  He has been with me for many years so he knows some things, but well, I don’t know what I would do if I lost him, especially if it was through something I caused or allowed.  Same for Nic and Bri.  And hoping Lynn was truly okay.

Michelle stops her door-bound trek on the green grass of her lawn waiting for Robert.  He trots around to the passenger side to pick up the shotgun and then heads toward Michelle.

“Robert,” I call over to him.  An almost disguised sigh escapes him before he turns and comes over.

“There’s probably nothing in there but it’s going to be fairly dark and so make sure you know where Michelle is at all times, especially if you see movement and are thinking about firing.  Your best bet if you do see or sense anything is for the two of you to back out of there.  Stay with her but cover your six and any doors you come across.  There’s no need to open any doors that are already shut and check the rooms.  The doors opening will be your early warning system.  No risks.  In and out.  You got it!?”  I tell him is a low voice so Michelle can’t hear.

I know he wants to look good in front of her, I mean, he’s seventeen, but wanting to look good or act the hero can make one take foolish risks or make mistakes.  Sometimes you have to do what you have to do but this is different.

“Okay,” he says.

This could possibly turn into one of the longest minutes of my life and it’s eating me up.  I watch them enter the house leaving the front door open only to immediately see movement in the front window to the right of the now open front door.  The drapes are moving in the window.  This brings back memories of this morning inside their own house.  Oh fuck!  I should have gone in!  I’ve made a huge mistake! I think as I rush toward the front door.  I step onto the lawn and, before I realize that I am moving, my 9 mil materializes in my hand.

The drapes pull to the side and I skid to a stop as I realize I am now looking at Robert standing in the window pulling the curtains to the side.  He looks over at me and smiles, knowing full well what I was just doing.  I shake my now hung head slowly, turn, and walk back to the Jeep, holstering my gun once again.  Any more adrenaline pumped into my system today and I will either launch free of earth’s gravitational pull or just fall down face forward.  Back at the Jeep, I turn back to the house in time to see Robert finishing with the other side of the curtains.  I need to perhaps give him a little more credit, a little voice in my head tells me as I continue to alternate my attention between the neighborhood houses and Michelle’s.

I start to think they are perhaps building a gun from raw materials when Michelle appears in the doorway carrying several objects in her hands followed by Robert carrying several more.  I see she has what appear to be two handguns, one a revolver and the other a semi-automatic, and several boxes of ammunition.

“This is all I could find,” she says handing the pistols to me.

Both handguns are holstered and have trigger locks on them.  I must have frowned somewhat looking at them because she sets the boxes of ammo on the front seat and reaches into her front pocket, pulling out a couple of keys on circular, wire key ring.

“Looking for these,” she says smiling at me.  “My dad keeps them in his sock drawer.”

A sense of humor and an apparent good head on her shoulders.  My favorable impression meters climbs substantially.  I remove the handguns from their holsters and set them on the seat with the boxes of ammo.  A shadow appears across the seat and an arm appears in my vision as Robert sets two more boxes on the seat.  I pick up the semi-automatic and fit the first key to the lock.  Of course, it isn’t the one I need.  The second key fits in and a slight twist later, I remove the trigger guard.  It is a nice Colt Commander .45.  I remove the magazine and glance on the side to find that it’s filled to its capacity.  I set the magazine on the seat in front of me.  Shadows fill the seat; Michelle and Robert are each observing, Michelle over my left shoulder and Robert over my right.

I crack the chamber of the .45 to find it empty and work the slide several times.  Smooth action.  It seems to be very well taken care of.  Inserting the mag back in, I chamber a round and flick on the safety.  I pop the mag back out and press down on the rounds still remaining.  The spring still seems in good shape.  Inserting the mag, I release the safety and ease the hammer down into its second safety position.  I set the gun back on the seat pick up the other handgun.  It is a very nice Smith & Wesson six shot .38 revolver.  I see from the butt end that it is loaded.  I take a key to remove the trigger guard.

“Damn,” I mutter going 0 for 2 on the keys.

Removing the trigger guard on the second try yet again, I flip the cylinder to the side, and dump the ammo in my hand.  All rounds look in decent shape.  I flick the cylinder back into place and dry fire a couple of times.  Yes, I know, you shouldn’t dry fire.  Nice, it is double action and is smooth.  Replacing the rounds, I flip the safety on this one and set it in the seat.

There are 4 boxes of ammunition on the seat and I open each one.  One contains full 50 round box of .45 ACP 230 grain ammo and another has eight rounds missing.  Okay, I think to myself, not bad.  I would have preferred 200 grain but for close quarters 230 grain is nice to have.  Especially if you need to go through walls.  Besides, I am quite sure there is plenty of 200 grain lying about for the picking.  The same is true for the .38 ammunition boxes with the exception that the used box only has six rounds missing.  The .38 ammo boxes are also fifty round boxes and 125 grain.  I notice that the .38 loads are standard loads so the kick should be substantially less.  Our firepower has basically doubled.

“Do you know how to use these or shoot, Michelle?”  I ask setting the last box back on the seat and turn around.

“My dad took me to the range a few times but I’ve only fired the .38.”

I turn slightly reaching back to the seat, pluck up the .38 and slide it into the holster.  “Okay, this is yours for now I guess,” handing it to her.

She takes the gun, looks down to her right and then her left, apparently searching for some place to put it.  She shrugs, lifts the back of the red t-shirt she is wearing, and slides the holster into her waistband at the small of her back.  Looking over at Robert, I holster the .45 and hand it to him.  He unfastens his belt and draws it through the loops looking a little sheepish.  Picking up the gun, he fastens it to his belt and reverses the process.

“Okay, let’s go,” I say.  Robert starts around the Jeep and Michelle stands there uncertain.  “Other side is easier,” anticipating that she isn’t sure which side to get in on.

I am putting the ammo boxes in the center console when I hear the rear gate door open.  “What are you doing?”  I ask looking over the seats to the rear. 

“Putting the shotgun in back,” he replies.  Yep, definitely going to have to give him more credit, I think.

Robert shuts the back and walks to the passenger side.  He reaches inside and lifts the seat forward.  I am curious as to what he will do next.  Without hesitation, he climbs into the back pulling the seat back once he is there.  Good, I raised him right.  Michelle then climbs in, closes the door, and buckles herself in.

With all of us buckled in and Michelle’s stuff situated to make room for Robert, we leave.  When we arrived, I contemplated leaving the Jeep running to enable a quick exit but wanted to be able to hear any noises.  Nothing except the occasional sound of a bird greeted us during our entire stay.

“Time check,” I say looking in the rear view at Robert.

“Ten to two,” he responds.

I don’t wear a watch except when I am running so I am forever asking Robert.  I usually use my phone for a clock but am going to have to rectify that very soon.  As a matter of fact, I might as well do it now.  There is this one watch I have wanted for quite a while but didn’t want to spend the money.  Plus, it has a very useful aspect to it that comes to mind right now.  It has a flight calculator on it.  I wore a similar one many years ago in the Air Force and found it to be a great tool many times when flying.  It even helped save my bacon once.  And I had a lot of bacon to save back then.

I was an instructor pilot and we were flying to Colorado Springs.  Just a bunch of other instructors who were in my class and doing this as kind of a reunion flight and get together.  The plan was to fly there, get skis and passes from MWR, cars from the motor pool, and go skiing up at Breckenridge.  Our current wing DO (Director of Operations) was in my class and therefore along with us.  It was actually his idea to do this so we had no trouble getting the aircraft and didn’t foresee any problems with the motor pool upon arrival.  It was nice having a full bird colonel along with us.  There were ten aircraft in total so we divided up into (2) four-ship formations and (1) two ship.  I was only one of two Americans; the rest were German pilots.  I think I was the lowest ranking as well. 

So, off we went, stopping at Amarillo, Texas for gas before heading on.  I was the lead for our 4-ship at that point.  It was a gorgeous day and we landed at Colorado Springs without incident.  The skiing was great as well except for the time I found myself on a double black diamond slope.  Yeah, that was the last time I let the Germans ‘guide’ me up a lift.  They just powered down the slope: the term slope being a relative term.  I am pretty sure that skiing is most effective if there is some sort of slope involved.  This ‘slope’ looked like it actually angled back in towards the mountain in places and the moguls looked like Volkswagens were parked under the snow and glued to the side of the mountain.

The German’s just tipped their skis over and performed some sort of ballet through the moguls and down the slope.  I couldn’t very well cry mommy and slide down on my ass so I tipped my skis down as well.  That was a freaking nightmare.  I arrived at the bottom checking myself over because I was pretty sure I had lost an arm, a leg, both kidneys, and expected my intestines to be trailing behind me along with most of my gear.

Our DO pulled up next to me.  “You ski pretty well for an American,” he said and off he went.

I looked quizzically after him.  I didn’t know if he was joking or what because I must have looked like a one-legged goat doing an interpretive dance while falling down a cliff.  I remember only touching snow like three times as I ricocheted my way down and looked up at the slope expecting to see a yellow trail marking my route down.  “That’ll never happen again,” I remember telling myself as I pushed off to catch up.

Well, that was Saturday and we met at base ops Sunday morning for the trip home.  It was overcast with clouds around the mid altitudes.  So, a little weather on the way home, no big deal.  I received the weather brief for my flight.  Another pilot was the designated lead for this leg back to Amarillo.  The weather wasn’t that great with moderate to severe icing conditions enroute.  We were flying trainers at the time so we didn’t have any de-icing or anti-ice capabilities.  Oh, and icing sucks if you can’t get rid of it in some form or another.  I thought about cancelling the flight but the weather reports for the next couple of days were even worse and the DO wanted to get home.  I at least talked him into breaking the flights into 2-ship formations.  That provides a little more flexibility.

I was with the original flight lead and the other two formed their own flight.  I was not all that fond of our lead and remember him telling me in the crew bus, “Now, I’ll show you the way to truly lead a flight,” making me even fonder of him.

Well, off we went.  We were the third 2-ship off of the ground and were separated by 15 minute departure times.  He asked for clearance and leveled us off at 11,000 feet which was below the cloud deck.  Okay, that makes good sense but we burn fuel at a higher rate down that low.  Plus, after leveling off, he kept the throttles up.  I was snugged up into fingertip but glanced at my rpm to find we were still around 95%; burning fuel like crazy for no reason I could fathom. 

The clouds and icing forced us to ask for and receive clearance down to 9,000 feet a short time later.  I had the approach charts for Amarillo out and dialed in a secondary frequency for Amarillo approach.  The weather there was not forecast to be the greatest either.  Normally, we would have fuel to destination, to an alternate, and 45 minutes after reaching the alternate.  We had this on leaving but our current fuel burn and altitude took our reserve down considerably.  I would switch between our enroute center freq and the approach freq to determine what was going on there.  We still had enough fuel to get to our destination, but it was even odds getting anywhere else.  I heard a buddy in another flight flying into Amarillo notify approach that he was initial approach fix inbound.  A short time later he called final approach fix.  Approach came on asking him if he saw the airfield.  Apparently the ceiling was pretty low there.  The final approach fix is close to the missed approach point – the last point at which you either see the airfield and land or put the throttles up and go around for another try or head somewhere else.  “Negative,” he replied back to them.

Oh, this sucks, I thought.  I then heard him say, “Missed approach.”  Approach came back asking him if he would like another approach.  “Negative approach, Cider 34 is diverting.”

I missed his clearance switching back to our freq but knew where he was heading.  Then that wonderful radio call, “Amarillo approach on guard, Amarillo is now closed.”  Yay for us, I thought.  And here Mr. “I’ll show you how to lead a flight” has brought us way low on fuel.

I could see scrambling in the aircraft next to me.  After a moment of this, he looked over at me and gave me the hand signal to take the lead.  “You have got to be fucking kidding me!!!” I said into my mask without transmitting.  Not only had he gotten us into a mess but now expected me to get us out of it.  My disgust meter pegged against the upper stop into the red zone.

I took and verified the lead, focusing on where we were.  This led to a slight scrambling on my part.  Part of me wanted to separate him off to get his own clearance and fend for himself but that was only a thought.  Breaking him off would save fuel on both of our parts but it was obvious his clue bag was empty.  I looked at the fuel gauge and damn near had a heart attack.  Holy shit!  We were damn low.  I pulled our throttle back to a more moderate cruise setting after signaling the upcoming change to him.  I looked at the clouds right over my head brushing against the top of the canopy.  We had flown through some clouds enroute and ice immediately started forming up on our wings.  I notified center that we were diverting to Altus and requested a vector direct.  “Roger, Otter 39 flight, turn left heading 130.”

I keyed the mic button on the throttle and responded back, “Otter 39 flight, left 130.”

Looking again to the cloud base I could reach out and touch, I knew we had no choice but to climb.  We were flat going to run out of gas before reaching Altus if we didn’t and the higher altitude would give us a better fuel rate and increased performance lengthening our range.  But there was the icing to think about.  Well, a certainty versus a possibility.  “DenverCenter, Otter 39 flight requesting flight level 250 (pronounced two five zero).”

The reply came back, “Otter 39 flight, standby, expect flight level 250 in ten minutes.”

Well, that wasn’t going to work, I thought.  “DenverCenter, Otter 39 flight declaring a fuel precautionary at this time and requesting flight level 250.”

The military is different from the civilian world in that we could declare a precautionary without having to go to a full-blown emergency.  This notifies our control facilities that we were in a situation that wasn’t quite an emergency but could result in one.

“Otter 39 flight, Denver Center, copy precautionary.  Climb and maintain flight level 250.”

Yes, we were just bumped up on the priority list.  I looked over at the aircraft tucked against my wing and gave the throttle up signal getting a nod back.  Moving the throttles up into mil power, I raised the nose.  We immediately went into IFR conditions meaning we had only the instruments to guide us as we lost visual reference.  Ice immediately gathered on our wings.  Not only does this decrease aircraft performance, but interrupts the airflow.  Enough disruption and the aircraft ceases its ability to produce lift and turns from a high performance fun machine into a brick.

As we climbed higher, I kept expecting and wanting to break out on top of this.  By flight level 180, I realized this may not happen and was questioning my decision.  Ice coated the leading edge of our wings but we were still flying.  This, incidentally, is a good thing.  At flight level 210, the clouds began getting thinner and I could see the sun shrouded in mist above me.  The ice stopped increasing and I fully expected to break out on top soon.  But as we continued to climb, the sun only became a brighter disk in the sky, however, visibility increased.  I leveled out at flight level 250 - that is really 25,000 feet but we use flight level designations beginning at 18,000 feet.

“Denver Center, Otter 39 level at flight level 250,” I transmitted.

“Otter 39, DenverCenter, roger.”

The visibility wasn’t too bad so I sent my wingman to chase.  This is basically a loose formation where the wingman flies about a 1,000 feet behind and to the left or right of the lead aircraft.  This position lends to a flexible position where I could maneuver easier and the wingman wasn’t constantly adjusting the throttles giving a better fuel consumption rate.  I looked at the fuel gauge again.  Not good!  I dialed in the navigation aid at Altus (TACAN) and looked at the DME (Distance measuring equipment.  This tells how far from the nav aid you are).  Once I locked on, I saw the DME which will also give you your ground speed.  Looking at that and at my airspeed indicator, I realized we were also battling a 40 knot headwind.  “Aw fuck, of course!  Why not?”  I said into my mask.

I was actually beginning to get a bit nervous and worried at this point.  Peeling the glove on my left hand back, I used the flight calculator on my watch, setting the ground speed on the distance.  I then looked that the fuel flow rate which gave me the fuel required.  I compared that number with what I had on my gauge.  Uh oh.  Those numbers were damn near the same.  Totally not good.  That was to just fly to the airfield and didn’t include the fuel required to fly an approach which would most likely be required there.  I had one ace up my sleeve and that what was called and enroute descent.  That is a fuel saving request where you start your descent into the airfield from a farther distance out.  This allows a shallower descent path allowing gravity to work on your behalf for a longer period of time.  Normally about 100 miles out.  Still, it did not save that much fuel.

I continued to calculate fuel required about what I thought was every couple of minutes but was in reality about every 30 seconds.  The fuel required and fuel onboard differential kept shrinking.  I had serious thoughts that I would have to bail out; to the point of going through the controlled bailout checklist.  The thought of bailing out didn’t exactly please me.  It would be a long silk ride down through some very cold clouds.  There was also the chance that the chute could freeze up with ice and cease being a parachute and more like a large piece of cardboard.  Plus, there was the inquiry that would follow.  See, the Air Force severely frowns on planting their aircraft into the earth.  I knew I could probably skate on this one but still, not a pleasant thought.  I liked my companion even more now!

The fuel differential finally became a negative one.  I should have declared an emergency much earlier on but I always hesitated on doing that.  “DenverCenter, Otter 39 flight, declaring a fuel emergency at this time,” giving out particulars with regards to position, fuel remaining and intentions, “request enroute descent into Altus for the PAR runway 35.” (Precision Approach Radar.  An approach option for military aircraft whereby the controller guides the aircraft in with very precise headings and altitude corrections).

“Otter 39 flight, DenverCenter, copy emergency.  Turn left heading 125, descend and maintain 15,000 at your discretion.”

“Otter 39 flight emergency, left 125.”

About 100 miles out, with my hand having furiously checked and rechecked calculations on my watch, I signaled my wingman back into fingertip formation, completed our approach to field checks, and we started down towards Altus.  During my numerous fuel checks, I would also inquire as to my wingman’s fuel.  We were about on par with him being a touch lower.

“DenverCenter, Otter 39 flight emergency out of 250 for 15.”

“Otter 39 flight emergency, DenverCenter, roger.  Contact Fort worth Center on three four eight point six five.”

“DenverCenter, Otter 39 flight emergency, three four eight point six five.”

“Otter 39 flight, three four eight point six five, go,” I tell my wingman.

“Two,” he answers.

I dial in the frequency and check in with the flight.  “Otter 39 flight.”

“Two.”

“Fort WorthCenter, Otter 39 flight emergency, descending through 220 for 15.”

“Otter 39 flight emergency, radar contact, come left heading 100, vectors for Altus.  Expect vectors for the PAR runway 35 Altus with approach.”

“Otter 39 flight emergency, left 100.”

I was still constantly looking at the fuel gauge and calculations.  We had gained a measure of fuel savings on the descent and, after switching to approach, they gave us short vectors to the airfield.  The cloud ceiling was considerably higher here and when we broke out, approach asked us if we had the airfield in sight.  I answered in the affirmative and we were given instructions to circle to land runway 17 which basically gives us the freedom to maneuver to and align ourselves with the runway.

We touched down in formation and taxied to base ops.  My fuel gauge read zero; I mean absolute zero while taxiing.  I was pretty hot and furious and stormed over to base ops to give Mr. Know It All a pretty big piece of my mind after shutting down.  As I walked in, the DO walked in behind me.  I think he felt the mood and swept his arms wide and said, “My friends, at least we all made it.”  That put a pretty good perspective check on me and settled my mood considerably.  He was pretty good with stuff like that and it made an impression on me.  Always keep things in perspective.

Pulling my mind back to the present, I make a U-turn retracing our route.  We ride back mostly lost in our own thoughts after Robert shares our plans for tomorrow.  Michelle seems to take it in stride only mentioning that she doesn’t have a sleeping bag with her.  “We have some extras,” I tell her.  Those being only words I say as we drive through town and back down the highway towards home, still thinking about the watch, maybe later.

On the drive back, I am lost in my thoughts about various aspects of the planned flight out; gathering some supplies on the way back and putting another to-do list together.  I think about asking Michelle where she thinks her parents might be or what happened to them.  I also want to ask Robert what happened that he, Nic, and Bri ended up in the basement but the time doesn’t feel right.  I feel they all have to sort things out in their own minds before reliving those experiences.

“We should probably gather up some supplies for tomorrow,” I say as we turn off the highway by the gas station with the white F-150 still in the lot.

I pull into the gas station and park in the same location as before with the Jeep running.  I pull out the duct tape sliding the tube onto my left arm like a bracelet.

“That’s just like the .45 I used to have,” I say nodding toward the gun at Robert’s side.  We used to go off into the woods periodically to target practice so he knows how to shoot, “Remember, it has a lot of kick so make sure you refocus the sights on your target before squeezing off the next round.  It may be a semi-automatic but that doesn’t mean rapid fire.”  He merely looks down at the gun and nods.

“Let’s take a walk around,” I say grabbing my gun and walk towards the store.  Both of them do the same and follow.

The store itself is your standard stop-and-rob gas station store built with cement blocks.  The cream-colored building has double entry glass doors with a door-sized window to either side.  It also has two additional large glass pane windows, one on the facing corner to the left of the doors and another just around the left corner that looks into the checker stand.  Both Robert and I know the interior well from the many, many times we have stopped there for soda or the occasional Subway pizzas or sandwiches.

Just inside the front doors, the double register check stand sits to the left with a counter to the right holding automated coffee and other drink machines.  This then opens up into the main store.  Refrigeration sections line the walls to the rear and right of the store with the Subway station situated against the front right.  The middle of the store is comprised of several food and sundry shelves with the aisles angled toward the front door.  To the right, between the Subway station and the refrigeration unit to the right, I remember a door leading to the outside with the kitchen part of Subway to the right just before this exit door.  A bathroom is located on the left hand side with a hallway extending to the rear of the building after the bathroom between that and the rear refrigerated section.  I assume there is an entry into the refrigeration unit, a stock area and such, and a rear door.

Outside, to the rear of the building, I see the beginnings of a chain link fence with wood slats in the links common to dumpster areas. It’s to that area at the rear of the building we walk to checking the surrounding area out.  The warm summer breeze gently stirs against my red Jeep t-shirt and jeans; my shadow extending slightly to my left across the pavement.  I see two other shadows behind mine as Robert and Michelle tail behind.  We round the corner to the rear of the store remaining alert to anything that might be there.  A green dumpster shows through the reddish brown slats in the fence verifying my previous assumption.  I want to check out every place to make sure.  Minimizing surprises is a good philosophy to live by.

The gate has a lock but is hanging open.  The gate itself swings out towards us and to the left when open.  I see through the slats but can’t see everything inside clearly.  I gather Robert and Michelle around me.

“Robert, you take the gate from the right, remove the lock, lift the latch, and swing the gate open stepping back to the right as you open it.  This will minimize the possibility that the gate will swing open into you.  At no time are you to step in front of the opening unless I tell you.  I’ll cover the gate from the front a few feet back.  Once the gate is open, you step a few feet back my direction and to the left.”

“Michelle,” I say, “You stay here covering the area around us.”

They nod and Robert moves in a wide circle so as to approach the gate from the right.  I set up in a kneeling stance a few feet in front of the gate.  My guess is that nothing will present itself due to the lock being on the gate, but you never know.  Once at the gate, Robert grasps the lock and looks back at me.  I glance back at Michelle.  She has her back to me and is looking around the area with her pistol out.  I must admit that I am quite impressed with Robert’s exceptional choice for a girlfriend.

I give Robert a nod.  He removes the lock and drops it to the ground as he lifts the latch.  Swinging the gate open to his left, with the metallic rattling sound common to all chain link fences, he steps back away from the gate bringing his own gun up.  I’m greeted by the sight of a dumpster hidden in the shadow of the store.  Nothing moves except for the gate slowly swinging closed apparently not being quite level.  I approach the gate noticing that the left lift door on the dumpster is open to the sky with the right one closed.  A couple of smaller cardboard boxes lie open on the ground at the foot of the dumpster.

“Cover me,” I say at the entrance.  He moves up behind as I edge toward the open end of the dumpster.  A quick move up to my toes bringing my gun to bear toward the dumpster opening reveals nothing immediately apparent other than a dumpster half full of miscellaneous paper wrappings, cans, boxes, and the standard things one would expect in a garbage bin.  I feel kind of foolish for tactically assaulting a dumpster.  However, if that dumpster were to spring up as some transformer and attack us, we would have had it covered.  More so, I wanted to use this to teach tactical operations and this was a safe way to do it.

Proceeding out of the enclosure, I shut the gate behind me.  “Michelle,” I call out and she quickly joins us.

We continue around the enclosure along the back of the store.  In the middle of the rear wall is a gray, steel door that opens outward.  Against the other rear corner is an enclosure similar to the one around the dumpster.  The difference is a small aluminum tube jutting out from the top.  I was hoping to see something like this.  I guess I never paid very close attention to the surroundings before as I don’t remember this.  But then again, I don’t remember not seeing it either.  I rather expected something like it though.  Out here in the country, there are frequent power failures during storms and winter months with some failures lasting several days.  Stores would keep small generators handy in order to keep the refrigeration units going in the event of such failures.  This one would likely be attached to those and the emergency lighting.  It might even be connected to the gas pumps.  Something to think about in the future.

“Same as before?”  Robert asks.

I nod and tell Michelle she has the door and the surrounding area.  She stations herself in front of the door about twenty feet away and the assault on the generator begins.  We go through the same motions and find that it is in fact a generator and is clear.  Emergency generators are usually set to automatically engage, triggered by the loss of normal electrical power.  Some have a manual starter switch for maintenance check purposes.  I press the green ‘on’ switch.  Nothing happens.  The fuel tank with the ‘diesel only’ placard sits on the front and to the bottom and, as I tap the tank lightly working my way down.  A hollow sound follows all of the way down to the bottom.  I test the fuel level with a small, square pole sitting to the side of the generator to find the stick reveals only a dark, wet line about a quarter of an inch deep.  Empty.  I seriously doubt there is enough residual diesel fuel in the hose lines at the pump to power it up.  If we want to ever use this generator and the gas pumps, we’ll have to drain diesel fuel from some vehicle at a later point.  There’s too much to be done today with the light remaining for us to search for one now.

Exiting and closing the gate, I walk to the steel door.  There’s no latch, just a handle and a key slot above it.  I give the door a light pull, not wanting to open it, just to test if it is locked or not.  It doesn’t move.

We head around the building to the far side.  The paved area extends fifty feet completely around the store allowing people to drive away by completing a complete circle back to the entrance.  A tree-lined hill, really more of small ridge, abuts the pavement to the rear and leads up to a shellfish plant on the other side of the trees.

Only two things greet us on this far side; an outside door similar to the rear door, and a darker blue four-door Honda parked nearby.  With gun in hand, I approach from the front to get a better look into the interior, angling up to the front corner of the car and peer inside.  Nothing out of the ordinary and, more importantly, no one inside.  I slide around to the passenger side keeping slightly away from the car to find there aren’t any keys in the ignition.  Moving closer, I try the front door.  Locked.  I test all of the remaining doors only to find that the car is completely locked up.  No keys on the seat or floorboard.  This tells me that whoever was driving the car either was picked up in another vehicle, walked out of here, or is still around.  Maybe more than one if there were passengers.

I test the steel door in a similar manner as at the back and find that it is also locked.  We retrace our steps around the building as I don’t want to walk in front of the store just yet.  If there is someone here and alive, they most likely know we are here already but I don’t want to publicly announce that fact.

“There’s the possibility of at least one person around,” I say as we turn the corner to the rear.

“How do you know that?”  Robert asks.

“The car is locked with no one in it,” I say and relate exactly what I think that means.  He nods thoughtfully.

“Looks like we’re going in through the front door,” I say once we are back at the Jeep.  “We’ll do a visual check through the side window, and then see whether the front door is locked.  If it is, then I’ll tape the front door,” I hold my left wrist with the duct tape bracelet up slightly, “and break the glass.”

“Once inside, both of you will be right inside the door.  Michelle, you’ll have the door itself.  Robert, you cover toward the back of the store.  I’ll go right to check the aisles and the Subway station.  If it’s clear, I’ll head back.  I’ll then check the back and the refrigeration units.  While I’m doing that, Robert, you’ll switch to covering the right,” I say outlining a quick plan.  “If something happens, our best bet is to just get out.  If it does come down to where we have to shoot, make doubly sure you’re not firing towards each other.  Make sure you have a clear shot.  And,” I say with emphasis, “I mean a very clear shot.  Any questions?”

“How do we tell if they’re alive or one of those, well, things if someone happens to be in there?”  Robert asks.

“I’ll call out once we are inside.  If no one responds, then we’ll assume that anything is hostile,” I say after thinking about it momentarily.  “Always know where everyone is.”

“Any more questions,” I ask looking from one to the other.  They shake their heads.

“Robert, get the flashlight off of the shotgun.  You’ll be using that,” I say reaching to pick up my monster flashlight.

Robert returns and I see from the tape still on the light that he chose to cut it off rather than unwrap it.  Okay!? I think.

I walk towards the wall a little ways from the window waving them behind.  Against the wall, I edge up to the window and peek in the corner.  There’s something blocking my view from the inside and I have to rise up until I can see in.  The light streaming inside through the door in front reveals the first cash register on the front counter, along with several drawers, and the drink machines by the front door on the other side of the entrance aisle.  I’m not able to see all of the way to the floor.  Crouching under the window, I proceed to the other side of the window and peek in the opposite corner again having to rise up slightly.  I see the interior aisles, or at least where they should be.  The light from the windows and door doesn’t penetrate very far in due to the building being angled away from the sun but there’s nothing moving that I can see.  The rear of the building and the Subway side remain blocked.

I put my flashlight against the window with my hand between it and my eyes to cut down some of the glare and play it around the interior.  I see end displays with candy and donuts and can only glimpse items peeking out on the shelves themselves.  The aisles look to be clear and the light reflects back off of the glass cases of the refrigeration units in back.  I move to the first window situated just around the corner.  From this vantage point, I see more of the front counter and some of the floor.  Again though, it is more of the same.  I glance back around to Michelle and Robert to find them crouching behind.

Ducking under the window again, although I’m not quite sure why after the light display inside, I move to the front door and peek inside.  Again, the natural lighting only extends a few feet inside before fading off into shadows and darkness.  I play the light in towards the rear of the store again but it doesn’t penetrate all of the way back and only stillness prevails.  I think about driving the Jeep to the front and using the headlights to give us more light inside but I don’t think I can get it angled correctly between the pumps and the door.

I set the light down to reach up to the handle on the front door and give it a slight pull.  Very cool, I think as the door opens.  No demonstration of breaking taped windows today apparently.  But my thoughts also drift to the locked car parked on the side.  Locked car plus unlocked store possibly equals someone inside.

I turn back to my shadows and motion them forward.  They don’t have to come far as they are beneath the front window right behind.  I tell them what I saw and my thoughts.  “If I tell you to leave, you both leave through this door immediately.  No questions, no huh’s, no ‘let me see what’s going on’, you just leave immediately.  You got it,” I whisper to them.

“Yes, Dad,” Robert whispers with a nod.

“Yes, Mr. Walker,” whispers Michelle.

“Just make that Jack from here on out.  I’m rather used to it and more or less respond to that,” I whisper back to her.

There’s a concrete cigarette butt stand next to the door across from me with a garbage can on the other side.  I notice a concrete block at the foot of the butt stand, nod to myself, and reach across the door dragging the block over.

“As I open the door and go in, Robert, you grab it and move in behind me.  As you move in, Michelle, you grab the door behind him and block it open with this.  Robert, you stop about five feet inside focusing on the rear of the store, I’m going in and around to the right.  Michelle, you have the door,” I whisper reiterating the plan and push the concrete block out of the way of the door and our path.

They both nod.  Crouching by the front door, I swing it open and enter, low and quick, stopping about five feet inside.  I look quickly around, my light playing around the interior as Robert settles in beside me.  I hear the scraping of the block behind me as I search out the interior.  Again, my light still doesn’t shine all of the way to the back but I can see a very faint line of light close to the ground back there that must be coming from the back door.  The first aisle looks clear.  I lean over the counter clearing the floor behind the registers.  I kneel down by Robert who is shining his light around the interior.

“That’s your area,” I say pointing to the back of the store with my light.  “Stay right here until I return.  I’ll be to the right,” I add.  He adjusts his light and focuses on the rear of the store.  It isn’t penetrating as far as mine did.

“Okay,” he whispers back.

“Is anyone here?”  I call out, my voice seeming to echo around the interior.  “Come out slowly if there is.”

Silence.  “Okay then,” I whisper slowly walking low to the end of the drink counter and focus my light down the second aisle.  Nothing but the front end of peanut cans, bags of cookies, and potato chip bags shine back at me.  I peek around the corner and see the side door along with the Subway kitchen area entrance.  All clear.  The third aisle in front of the cooler section to the right is blocked but I notice a musty odor that permeates the air.

There is a sharp corner to the right a couple feet in front of me that leads to the Subway counter itself.  I edge up to the corner keeping my light alternating between the aisle, the side door, and the Subway counter as more and more of it slowly appears.  At the corner, I now play my light across the whole counter.  It looks alien here in the darkened building, so different from the place I so often came to.  I angle toward the counter focusing my light on the area behind and on the last aisle.  I still can’t see too far inside the refrigeration units because of the reflection.

Looking to the rear of the Subway, I see that the various cheeses, meats, and vegetables are strewn on the floor and counter; some squished beyond recognition.  Adding to the mess, bread pans and loaves are scattered about.  The once spotless plastic shield is covered in dried spots and bits of cheese.  I play the light on the floor once again and the hair on the back of my neck stands straight up.  There is a partial footprint in some of the cheese.

I turn my light quickly to the back of the store.  Nothing.  I move further in order to see the entire third aisle.  Nothing.  I turn to the kitchen entrance.  There is no door there but only an opening.  I focus on the floor near the entrance.  There, faintly on the linoleum, I barely make out greasy footprints; a partial one here; a full one there.  These could have been made any time, but with the footprint in the cheese, I don’t think it was that long ago.  Unless, this was ransacked before.  But why not take the items from the shelves and only mess with the Subway items.

I shine my light around the interior once again.  Everything seems in perfect order.  I have the feeling like something is here but just out of sight or reach.  Like when trying to remember a song or name; it’s there and you know it but you just can’t quite bring it to mind.  I trace out the prints with my light.  They are very faint but head up the third aisle a few feet before disappearing altogether.  I inch over to the kitchen entrance keeping as much distance from it as possible.  The kitchen reveals itself to my light as I draw closer.  I get into a position so that I can see the entirety of the kitchen, my gun held out and ready.  But there is nothing but more food littering the floor.

“I’m opening the side door,” I call out reaching for the door wanting to get a more light in here if possible.

I close my left eye and squint with the right as I push open the door not wanting to be blinded by the light nor lose what night vision I had acquired.  Light floods into the small area and I feel the sun cascade down on my body.  It feels good, the sun in some way filling me back up.  The fact that I feel this way about being outside leads me to think there is something quite abnormal about being inside the store.  Perhaps it’s just the tension and weirdness of the past few days, I think yet another aspect within reminds me that the subconscious will pick out clues that the conscious doesn’t and relate them to the mind in the form of vague feelings; intuition.  I do know that a small amount of tension leaves knowing there is another way out.  Another concrete block sits to the right of the door and I maneuver it to hold the door open before heading back in.

“Coming back your way,” I say and walk to the front near Robert clearing the aisles again as I go.  Still nothing; for which I am grateful.

“Okay, we still need to check out the back and the coolers.  Shift up by the corner there and cover the right,” I say to Robert nodding to end of the drink counter.

I glance back to Michelle at the door, “I’m heading into the back.  You doing okay?”

“Yes, Mr. Walker.”

“That’s Jack, remember.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I give up,” I mutter and orient to the rear of the store.

Creeping past the register counter, I approach the bathroom door on the left switching my light between the area in back and the store interior.  I give the handle a twist, push the door inward, and immediately flash the light inside expecting something or someone to be hiding there.  It’s a standard store bathroom with a toilet, sink, and wall-mounted paper towel dispenser and no one seems to be using it at the moment.

From this position, I can see the far wall of the back room.  The flashlight has a pretty intense beam so there is little radiant light splashing around the room; just a circle of light where the light shines.  From this point, I see the back door and part of the back wall with the room opening up on both sides.   Shelves are filled with cardboard boxes, cans, and such with more on the floor next to them.  My current angle prevents me from seeing the room entirely although I see the door of the cooler.  With trepidation, I venture slowly up the small hallway leading to the back room.  The light reflects off of the cooler doors so I cannot see what is behind them.  Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the small line of light at the bottom of the back door darken momentarily as something flashes between me and the door.

“Oh shit!”  I half breathe to myself.

“Get out!  Get out now!”  I yell bringing the light and my gun around as the sound of footsteps quickly heading my way explodes into my consciousness.  My light seems to take forever to sweep around whereas, in truth, it is only milliseconds.  A loud shriek pierces the once silent room and I see something large flying in the air toward me, caught in the light as my flashlight finally comes around.

I fire and shift to the right attempting to dodge the thing coming at me, the action coming instinctively.  My round must have hit as I notice its trajectory alter in mid-air before slamming into my chest and left shoulder.  The impact spins me around and drops me to my knees.  It knocks the flashlight from my hand and I hear it hit the floor with a metallic thunk; thankfully not breaking and the light still shines.  I feel like I have been hit by a truck and put my hand out to catch myself from falling completely over.  I begin to rise and glance up only to be met with the sight of something large once again hurtling toward me; temporal distortion causes everything to appear as if in slow motion.

I make it to my knees but can’t get the gun up in time, but I do manage to bring my left arm up in front of me before the impact hits me square on; blanketing me.  The impact is so hard that I become airborne momentarily before slamming down on my back and skid along the linoleum with this thing on top of me.  Looking beyond my feet, I see Robert and Michelle silhouetted against the light from the front door.

“Get the fuck out of here!”  I yell while attempting to twist out from under whatever it is on top of me.

The flashlight, somewhere on the floor, casts a pale light around revealing the outline of a human form on top straddling me.  My left arm is being twisted and shaken violently around as this thing has taken hold of my forearm with its teeth.  Shock must be preventing me from actually feeling its teeth ravage my arm let alone the damage it must be doing.  A dank, musty odor assaults my nose; a mixture of body odor, wet dog, and breath that hasn’t been introduced to toothpaste in some time.  The weight and violence of the tugging on my arm brings the now growling thing down close to my face.

I tilt my face slightly to the side and notice the flashlight has come to rest against and facing the wall.  With this feeble light helping me see, I raise my right hand with the gun and lock the muscles of my left arm.  I need to slow down the twisting and shaking movements so I don’t actually shoot my own arm.  I bring the gun closer, putting the barrel against the head of the snarling and growling thing and pull the trigger.  The muffled gunshot is followed a millisecond later by a wet sound on the floor beside me.  There is a second explosive-like sound and then the full weight of the thing settles on top of me.  Something wet and warm trickles down the side of my face and neck.  Gunpowder and burning hair are now mixed in with the musty body odor along with the iron-like smell of blood.  There is another smell in the air.  It is hard to describe but is associated with death.  Not decomposition or anything like that, just the smell of death.  If cold and nothingness had a smell, it would be similar.

I push against its shoulder, rolling it over and sliding out at the same time.  Crawling over to the flashlight, I shine it around, the light shaking slightly because of the adrenaline still coursing through my body.  Breathing heavily, I check the back hallway and then focus the light ahead.

The body is lying on its back against a shelf, staring with bulging, lifeless eyes at the ceiling.  The exit wound just above the right ear stares back at me.  The once shoulder length, blond hair is matted with blood and gore on the side; a flap of skin and hair hangs down with blood leaking out, forming a slowly widening pool on the floor beside.  A trickle of blood runs from the nostril and over the cheek.  In the light, I see this was once a woman but the skin appears to be a pale, mottled gray with darker veins showing through the skin on the cheek as if the skin were translucent.

Continuing to pan my light, I see her right arm extends out from a red, flowered, short-sleeve blouse over tan slacks.  Blood covers the shoulder of the blouse, causing it to stick to the skin.  The first three fingers twitch spasmodically and I notice the same pale, mottled skin with dark veins running down her arm.  I place my fingers on her wrist.  No pulse.  As I rise, my light shines on the shelf above her which is now covered with the spray of blood and chunks of bone, hair and brain.  There is also a spray of white, foamy liquid mixed in and slowly running down part of the shelf.  Curious.  Raising my flashlight, I notice that a can of shaving cream has exploded, apparently being hit with the round or part of the round exiting her cranium.

I look back toward the front and see only the sun shining through the front door and windows.  The door is still open and blocked by the concrete block.  No sign of Robert or Michelle.  Good.  I’m afraid to check my arm as I don’t feel any pain or injury and flex my fingers while holding the flashlight.  They appear to be working fine, however, with my arm having been twisted and gnawed like that, I should feel something wrong.  I turn the light on me only to be both fairly amused and relieved.

That thing, I guess I can’t really call it a woman, had latched onto the roll of duct tape around my wrist.  The tape itself has bite marks and is shredded in places.  I am amazed and thank the spirits for their protection.  I feel over the rest of my body, and, except for a sore shoulder where I was first hit and my hip where I hit the ground, I seem to be doing well.

I turn toward the back room and edge once more to the hallway, slipping on the now wet floor and edge into the back room against the cooler wall, exposing more and more of the room with my light.  I am only greeted by more shelves and cardboard boxes on the ground.  Inside the room, I see only a nook with a desk and chair against the far wall of the opening to the right; a monitor and various sheets of paper littering the desk.  I open the back door and notice yet another concrete block on the inside by the door.  Blocking the door open, the light now penetrates most of the room.  I walk to the cooler door and pull it open, ready.  With the adrenaline fading, I now just want to get what we need and be gone.

Shining my light inside, I see cases of various items stacked against the rear walls.  The cooler makes a right at the end.  Grabbing a case of beer, I set it against the cooler door propping it open and head toward the corner with my light leading the way.  Oh my god, there’s not going to be anymore beer!?  A quick glance with my light reveals only more boxes so I head out of the cooler and walk out the back door.

Walking around to the side of the store where the Jeep is parked, I replace the two rounds I fired.  There isn’t any sign of Robert or Michelle.  I walk towards the front and finally see the both of them a slight distance away from the front door by the pumps, aiming at the front door; the tension in them screams outward like physical waves.  I am rather glad I didn’t come out that way.

“Expecting something?”  I call out standing a short distance away.

The startled way they jump and turn in my direction makes me glad I didn’t follow through with my thought of walking up behind them and asking what they were looking at.  Wouldn’t do at all to go through what I had only to be nicked by one of them.  Plus, considering what they have both been through today, it just wouldn’t have been a very cool thing to do.  Amused me perhaps, but in light of everything, maybe not really that funny.

They walk over with their eyes opening wide as they get closer.  “Are you okay?”  Roberts asks staring at my head.

“Yeah, I think so,” I say walking to the side mirror of the Jeep to look.

There are streaks of blood drying along the left side of my face and neck with small chunks of other miscellaneous matter in my hair.  I walk to the back of the Jeep where I keep several rags.  Soaking one with some of the bottled water I keep close by, I wipe the gore from my face.

“Better?”  I ask walking back to the front.  They both nod.

“The store appears clear now so let’s get some supplies.  I’m going to see if I can find the keys to the Honda.  If I can find them, then let’s load that up with the supplies.  Concentrate on getting canned food and water.  You two get the supplies and load the car.  I’ll keep an eye out.  I wouldn’t highly recommend going up the aisle between the bathroom and the first shelf.

“Oh, and next time I say get out, do so!  When I tell you to do something, do it immediately!”  I tell them as we start toward the front door.

“What happened?”  Robert asks and I give a very brief and non-detailed answer, showing them the duct tape on my arm, as we walk to the front.

The darkness within is a lighter shade of gray due to the doors being propped open allowing us to see in greater detail.  I walk over to the corpse still lying on the ground.  The fingers have stopped their twitching and I reach down patting the front pockets checking for keys, noticing the slacks have a hole with a large, dark stain surrounding it on the left side at about the mid-thigh.  This must be where my first round hit.  I feel a lump in the right front pocket and, reaching in, pull out a set of keys.  A small amount of change falls out and a quarter rolls along the ground.  My eyes follow it as it makes a complete circle around me, falling over only when it hits the pool of blood on my other side and disappears beneath the dark liquid.  In the back room, I find a couple of green aprons and cover up the corpse as best I can.

Jangling the keys, I walk out of the side door to see if they are indeed for the car outside.  Inserting them into the driver’s door and giving a twist, the lock pops open and the dome light comes on.  Good, the battery is still good.  I wonder what drove the woman inside to come to the store.  She must have been ill.  I’m guessing that she came for supplies or some sort, and transformed while within the store.  At least I hope that’s the case and these things can’t drive.  Unlocking the rest of the car, I open the trunk then start it.  The fuel gauge shows just under ¾ of a tank.  Alrighty then, I think shutting down the car.   Back inside, I tell Robert and Michelle we are good to go on the car.  Passing the keys to Robert, I tell him, “You’re driving.”

The two of them pack the car with all of the canned goods, water, aspirin and other meds, beef jerky, nuts, plastic silverware, plates, cups, batteries, and other miscellaneous food items.  There are several cases of both water and canned food in the stock room.  The single items go into empty cardboard boxes we find in back.  I grab several six-packs of Blue moon and hand them to Robert.  “What’s this for?”  He asks smiling.

“Never mind.  Just make room for them,” I answer smiling back.  “I have one other thing to take care of.  You two wait outside.”

I walk over to the corpse and start dragging it by the heels to the back door and outside.  We may need to use this store in the future and I don’t want to leave the body inside to decompose.  The body leaves a wet trail behind for the first few feet like a mop that has been soaked in a dark liquid; the hair having soaked up part of the liquid pool lying around it.  Hauling it outside into the shade, I head toward the trees on the hill.  With the arms dragging above its head like it is reaching for the door, I see the body better in the light of the day.  The skin does have a translucent aspect and is light gray in color.  The paleness does not seem to be totally from a lack of blood.  Darker splotches blemish the grayish skin tone with the surface veins clearly visible and of the same darkish gray.

Leaving the shade of the store, the sunshine, streaming down from its afternoon westering position, illuminates the body.  The exposed skin changes from a gray translucence into a reddish color.  Because I am walking backwards with my hands pulling on the ankles, I see this transformation clearly.

Stopping there in the sun, I set the ankles down and kneel down by the left side.  Peeling up the blouse sleeve a little, I see the skin there is still the translucent gray but quickly changes to the red color once it is exposed the rays of the sun.  Hmmmm, interesting.  It almost looks like a sunburn.  The skin is cool and dry to the touch.  I reach my hand up the bottom hem of the pants to the skin there and find that it is also cool but clammy as opposed to dry.  Picking up the heels once again, I drag the body into the trees, leaving a faint trail of hair, skin, and blood behind as the body scrapes against the pavement, and leave it lying there inside of the tree line.

The car pulls around the corner of the store and Robert parks by the Jeep.  He sits behind the wheel with the window rolled down and with Michelle in the passenger seat.  The light gray interior of the car and back seats are filled with assorted boxes.  It is so strange to see him driving without me sitting beside him.

“We need to get whatever gas is left in the truck,” I say grabbing the gas cans and hose from the back.  “You get the gas.  I’m going to see if some of those keys are for the store and lock it up.  We may need it again and locking it up will keep others out.  At the very least, we’ll be able to tell if someone is in or has been in because they’ll have to break in,” I say holding my hands out for the keys.

Robert hands the keys through the window.  He grabs the siphoning gear from the Jeep and heads over to the truck as I head over to the rear and side of the store closing the fire doors along the way.  I am having a bad key day as it seems to be the last key I try works every time.  Luckily though, there are keys that do work, even the front door.

Approaching the cars, I see Robert has finished and is walking my direction spitting on the ground every couple of steps.  I see we still have a little ways to go on the siphoning techniques.  He has managed to fill one can and part of the other before the truck ran dry.

“Time check,” I ask replacing the tanks, hose, and now almost worthless duct tape into the back end of the Jeep.

“Ten after three,” Robert tells me.

“Let’s head home then.”

On the drive home, with the fir trees passing by on my left and right soaking up the afternoon sun, and the blue Honda in my rear view mirror, I think about the events at the store.  How could I have done things differently or better?  Should I have just left when I thought there might be someone in there and no one answered?  Should I have allowed Robert and Michelle in?  How many of these things are there?  What happened to everyone else?  No answers readily come to mind other than using this experience for the future.  I start thinking about these “things”, I can’t think of any other way to put it.  My mind ponders over what I have learned from the encounters putting everything into an almost list-like compartment in my mind.

1. They are obviously extremely violent nature.
2. They seem to have a cunning aspect as “it” didn’t attack immediately but waited for an advantage.  I’m not sure of their cognitive ability as the food that was scattered inside was seemingly solely limited to what was in the open.  The rest of the foodstuff on the shelves was untouched.  I’m not sure whether “it” can use doors to go in or out.  In both encounters, speech seemed limited to growls and shrieks.
3. They seem extremely agile and strong, at least this one was.  Pain also did not seem to affect it as it should as it was able to turn around and attack again so quickly even with a round in its leg.
4. The reports and assumption of shying away from light seems accurate judging from the way they both hid in the darkness and the reaction of the skin to sunlight, however, I’m not sure how or in what way light affects them.  One thing does seem sure, light from a flashlight doesn’t seem to affect them in the same manner as the sun or I would have noticed the redness appear when I shined the light on the exposed skin of the corpse.  My assumption is that night may not affect them at all and so they can operate freely then.
5. The best course of action appears to be avoidance and not drawing attention due to my limited understanding and knowledge.

I pull up to the driveway and back in wanting the Jeep parked in such a way as to make a quick exit if needed.  Leaving the keys under the seat, I notice Robert parked in a similar manner and walk over to where they are.

“We’ll leave the water and stuff here.  Leave the keys on the seat.  I’ll bring a case of canned food in.  Robert, take Michelle, get the generator from the shed and put it over there,” I say pointing to the side of the house by the front door.  “Oh, and make sure you bring the spool of cable that’s next to it.”

Walking up to the front door with my arms wrapped around a case of chili, I notice four pallets lying on the ground at the foot of the small deck in front.  Setting the case down to open the door, I look up and see the sun is about to touch the tops of the trees but there is still time before it heads down behind the hills lying between here and the coast.  There’s a few hours of daylight left but there are a lot of things to do and time seems short.  Walking through the now open front door, I step into a house darker than when I left and the sound of hammering coming from the living room area.

“Hey there,” I say loudly setting the case on the kitchen counter.

“Come on in,” I hear Mom say as the hammering stops.

“You’ve been busy,” I say rounding the corner of the kitchen.  Blankets cover the windows and doors.  The only light in the house comes from lit candles placed throughout the rooms.

Mom is standing on a step stool by the far window with a hammer in one hand and holding up a corner of a blanket across the window with her other.  “How did it go?”  She asks turning back to the task at hand.

“We picked up Michelle, some water, and some food.”  Mom nods and the pounding resumes as she hammers in the last nail.

“Robert and Michelle are getting the generator and I’ll wire it up here shortly,” I say also relating the events since we left, including my assumptions and thoughts about what we are looking at.

“Are you okay, Dad?”  Nic asks coming over to give me a hug.

“I’m fine, babe,” I say turning toward the sound of the screen door shutting in front.

“Done,” Robert says emerging from the kitchen with Michelle close behind.

“Get the list out of the Jeep and you four gather the items up and put them in the Jeep and car where there’s room.  Leave the front seat of the Jeep open,” I tell them after Robert introduces Michelle.  “And no arguing,” I say over my shoulder heading back outside.  This has become a ritualistic saying with all of us knowing that peace will last perhaps three minutes at best.

The next two hours are spent gathering the items necessary for the trip, wiring the generator into the house fuse box to the main fuse, breaking up the pallets, and nailing them across the windows and doors leaving only the front and side door clear.  This will not stop anyone or anything determined to get in but will slow them down and give us warning.  With the generator, we will have running water and electricity.  That’s the nice thing about having a well.  After a dinner of chili and a few cookies from our loot from the store, we settle back into the living room.

There is a load of wood brought in from outside but the wood stove remains unlit.  Robert sits in one chair, Michelle in the other.  Mom, Nic, and Bri are on the couch.  I take a seat on the floor against the wall.  A few bottles of water are against the inside wall and the sleeping bags we will be taking with us come tomorrow are scattered in the room.

“We’ll have to turn off the generator in a little while.  Our objective is to not to attract any attention through noise, smells, light, or movement tonight.  Therefore, no fire or light, including candles, after the sun goes down.  If you have to use the bathroom, wait until morning to flush.  No running water.  We need to make ourselves like a deep, dark hole,” I say looking around the room at each of them.  “I want to be off early tomorrow morning but we should keep a watch tonight.  Robert, you take the first watch and I’ll take the second.  Wake me at 0200.”

Robert is a night owl and I have a tendency to wake up in the middle of the night and not be able to go back to sleep so this schedule should work out.  I still don’t have a watch.  Need to rectify that tomorrow.

“If something does happen tonight, we’ll form a semi-circle against the inside wall,” I say nodding to where the water currently sits.  “I have toward the kitchen and back door, Michelle, the two windows, and Robert, the side door and hallway.  Mom, Nic, and Bri, you stay behind us and down.”

Mom gets off of the couch and disappears down the hall to the back bedrooms.  “I can help,” she says reappearing with a six shot .32 revolver in her right hand.

“Alrighty then.  You back up the person who seems to need the most help.  If things get too messy and we can, we’ll try for the Jeep and the Honda.  I’ll lead, Robert in the rear.  Michelle and Mom to either side, Nic and Bri in the middle.  Mom, Michelle, Nic and Robert in the Honda, Bri, you’re with me.  We’ll all move to the blue car and then Bri and I will head for the Jeep.  The keys to the blue car are on the seat.  If we can’t do both cars, the keys to the Jeep are under the driver’s side seat.  Just pile in as best as you can from the passenger side door and we’ll sort it out down the road.”

I grab some duct tape and string from the laundry room and empty tin cans from dinner and the recycling bin.  Rinsing eight cans clean to get rid of food smells so the raccoons don’t rummage through and displace them, I head outside and place pieces of gravel from the driveway in the cans.  I measure lengths of string that will stretch across the stairs leading up to the front, rear, and side decks.  Two sets of stairs in front, and one each in the back and side.  Cutting the string with my folding blade, I tape the string to the cans and set the cans on the railings with the string across the stairs.  The string is about torso high and, should something or someone approach the doors, we should have some warning.  Throwing the tape in the Jeep to replace the shredded one, I make a circuit around the house checking every window and door to make sure they are locked up tight, and then head back inside.

The rest of the evening is spent rehashing our list to see if we have everything, the day’s events, speculations about what happened, making sure Mom has enough supplies, trying to talk her into coming with us to no avail, and our planned flight.

The sun sinks behind the hills bringing on that summer twilight, the orange hue showing behind and above the hills fading to a darker blue on the opposite horizon as I head out to turn the generator off.  The summer day temperature is falling to that warm, summer evening making me think of late BBQ’s and friends; sitting outside feeling full, drinking beer, and watching the stars slowly appear in the night sky; that feeling of contentment and peace.  A melancholy feeling settles inside thinking that those days are now gone.  No more.  The world moves on and doesn’t seem to care.  I look up at the sky overhead and think about Lynn looking up at the same sky, hoping she is and is okay.  “I’m on my way, hon,” I breathe into the deepening twilight sky.

I Hate Flu Shots

In almost total darkness, we unroll our sleeping bags on the living room floor that is lit only by our flashlights.  Mom has plenty of flashlights and so we each have one that we will keep by our side.  Mom is getting the couch ready for her with the remaining blankets from the spare bedrooms.  The flashlights play around the room like the light flashing off of a disco ball on the walls in slow motion.  Moving, coming to rest, and moving again.  Bri and Nicole climb into their sleeping bags like they are part of a synchronized swim team.  Michelle appears to be having trouble undoing one of the strings on her bag so Robert crawls over to help her before sitting once again against the inside wall.  I climb into mine after laying my gun on the floor next to my head.  It’s a lot harder climbing into a sleeping bag with your shoes still on.  We are all sleeping with our clothes on with a flashlight handy.  My light is the last one shining as I settle myself in.  I switch it off and lay there staring upward into the darkness that is now the room.  My mind goes over the day’s events before drifting off to replay the beginning…….

Cape Town, South Africa - Health officials expressed concern about a new flu virus that has infected more than 1,000 people in Cape Town.  The concern stems from the fact that so many have fallen ill in a short period of time.

"This situation has been developing quickly," said acting WHO director Dr. Tom Alderson. "This is something we are worried about.  This could quickly escalate into epidemic proportions."

A team of World Health Organization doctors and staff are preparing to depart to the South African resort town after many reported coughs, fever, sore throat, aches and pains.  Dr. Wilhelm Schoff comments that…..

Oh my God!  Why do the media have to be such drama queens?  Everything has to be such world-ending news.  Perhaps in order to keep the masses looking one direction and having to look out for themselves; part of the ‘keep the masses in order doctrine,’  I thought looking through the headline news while waiting for my sweetheart to come online from the Middle East.  We talk most every night and morning waiting for her deployment back to the states.

Cape Town, South Africa – The World Health Organization has issued an alert for South Africa for what is now being dubbed as the ‘Cape Town flu.’  Medical teams from WHO are reporting more than 2,500 deaths from this new flu virus and an estimated 30,000 cases most of which are in the Western Cape Province in which Cape Town sits.

“The majority of cases are occurring in adults between 25 and 44 years of age,” reports Dr. Wilhelm Schoff, the leading WHO official responding to this crisis.  This new strain of flu has resisted most antiviral drugs.”

Most of the reported deaths are occurring amongst the elderly, young children, and the malnutritioned.  "I can say with 100 percent confidence that a pandemic of this new flu strain will spread," Dr. Schoff continues to report.

Reports of outbreaks are being reported in Johannesburg and in the capital of Pretoria.  Schools in the Western Cape Province have been closed……

Wow!  First there was the Hong Kong flu virus that was supposed to reduce human existence, then the Avian flu, and the Swine flu not that long ago.  Although it seems like a lot of cases, we have been here before.  But that is also what happens when we hand anti-viral drugs out like they’re candy.  More drug resistant viruses come into play. 

Atlanta, Georgia – The Center for Disease Control today issued a travel warning for all of South Africa…..outbreaks of the Cape Town flu virus have been reported in Amsterdam, Paris, and London.

Pretoria, South Africa – The South Africa government issued a notice that all government services will be operating in an emergency capacity.  The statement issued by the government in Pretoria included, “Only those services necessary for the essentials of government operations will be functional.  All public schools will remain closed until this epidemic passes.”

Yeah, like I was planning on going to South Africa to begin with.  I really don’t know why I continue to read this.  It only enhances the reason why I stopped watching and reading the news in the first place.  It seems like the same old news; just insert new name and place in the old news and call it new, I thought downing the rest of my coffee and getting ready to start my day.  I had just finished talking with Lynn and was getting ready to head out to run some errands before dialing into clients’ servers and doing my daily work.  I had the kids that evening and was looking forward to seeing them.  I had a new movie for us to watch.  The thought of what to do for dinner crossed my mind as I grabbed my keys and headed out of the door.

Geneva, Switzerland – The death toll directly related to the Cape Town flu has risen to over 5,000 in South Africa reports the World Health Organization in a statement issued today.  “The number of confirmed cases has climbed to over 50,000 and is really now beyond our capabilities to contain,” Dr. Wilhelm Schoff said in a press interview.  “Our resources to combat this virus are stretched to the limit.”

Atlanta, Georgia – The CDC has expanded it travel warning to include European travel.  “With over 10,000 reported cases of Cape Town flu within Western Europe, we feel it is necessary to expand our scope,” reported Dr. Wendy Johnson from within the CDC.  “We are continuing to focus our efforts on finding a vaccine and anti-viral drugs to combat this new deadly flu pandemic.  It is only a matter of time before cases are reported within the border of the United States.”

You know, it really does seem like these outbreaks and epidemics are becoming part of normal life.  It seems they are much closer together in epidemic proportions as opposed to the once usual 20 year epidemics.  Maybe it is just a matter of time before one becomes a deadly force that sweeps over the world.  I always thought that the more we messed with stuff and pressed deeper into unexplored areas of the world, the more deadly the viruses would become.  And, the more we use and depend on anti-viral drugs, the less we will actually be able to combat those deadly strains.

DEATH TOLL CLIMBS

Washington DC – The death toll from the Cape Town flu continues to climb.  In an unconfirmed report, the estimated death toll from this deadly virus has reached 20,000.  The number of cases has climbed to an estimated 250,000 worldwide with cases being reported in almost every major country.  The first cases have now been reported in Los Angeles and New York. 

The House and Senate are meeting to pass emergency legislation authorizing funds for vaccine research.  The expectations are……..

Atlanta, Georgia – The CDC has confirmed reports of the first cases of Cape Town flu within the United States.  “We have eight confirmed cases within Los Angeles and ten within New York,” reports Dr. Wendy Johnson of the CDC.  “We expect this number to rise over the next few days and weeks.”

The CDC reports the symptoms to look for with the Cape Town virus are nausea, headache, sore throat, and fever.  “What really makes this one different is the extremely high fever associated with the Cape Town flu,” said Dr. Johnson.  “We have reported temperatures reaching 104 degrees which puts us into a danger zone.  If you have any of these symptoms, please report them to your nearest medical facility at the first sign.”

I really have to stop reading this stuff, I thought noticing that Lynn had come online.  We talk about it some but are both under the impression that there is a fair share of media hype involved.  Yes, we both think that the numbers are pretty high and it is perhaps fairly dangerous if your immune system is not up to par.  She even told me that there are a few people in her unit and other surrounding units that are getting sick.  She has even had to pull extra shifts to cover those sick.  More of an annoyance than any fear.

Washington DC – Both the House and Senate passed an emergency funding bill authorizing vaccine research for the deadly Cape Town virus that has truly reached pandemic proportions.  The bill authorizes government health officials to use every means at their disposal to find a remedy to this threat.

Federal government health organizations have formed a coalition with 7 major worldwide pharmaceutical corporations to combine efforts in order to…….

Oh boy!  Here we go!

Washington DC – Federal health officials issued a statement today that, with the combined efforts of the world’s major pharmaceutical corporations and government experts, that a viable vaccine has been discovered to combat the Cape Town flu virus.

“With over 100,000 confirmed deaths worldwide, and, with an estimation of that many deaths within the United States alone, this couldn’t come soon enough,” said Senator Jesse McCaffery in a statement issued by his office.

FDA approval of this vaccine within days is expected as this vaccine is expedited through the approval process……the military will be the first to receive this vaccine with it becoming available to the general public as soon as 24 hours later.  Special clinics and locations are now set up in locations around the world and are now only awaiting the FDA approval and arrival of the vaccine.  A list of facilities can be found in your area at http://……….

I am not taking this when it comes around, I think reading the story in a fit of boredom.  I have not had a flu shot, well, since the Air Force and I don’t plan on taking this one.  The flu shots I have had generally made me sicker than the actual flu itself so, no flu shot for me.

These are the last thoughts I have before succumbing to sleep.  I find myself lying in a boat on the water, drifting slowly in the lake.  The boat rocks me gently as I stare up at the blue sky above.  The sun shines down onto my face, its warmth caressing me.  The boat is not rocking in a constant motion but more in sporadic waves.  A rocking, then nothing, then another after a moment.  I stare into the blue sky to see an eagle soaring above me.  I hear its screech as it rides the winds.  It wheels and circles back around dropping lower until its shadow is large across me, blotting out the sun as it passes between it and me.  Calling out as it passes by.

“Dad,” it calls out.  “Dad.”  What the fuck, I think starting to sit up in the boat.  I open my eyes to Robert gently shaking my shoulder and his flashlight staring straight into my eyes.  “Dad,” he softly whispers once more.

“Yeah, I’m up,” I reply back.

“It’s two,” he says removing the light from my eyes.

“Okay.  Anything going on?”  I whisper taking a moment to adjust to waking up.  The radiant light from his flashlight illuminates the room slightly showing lumps on the floor around me like tiny hills.

“No.  It’s been completely quiet.”

“Okay, I’m good. Get some sleep,” I tell him climbing out of my sleeping bag, grabbing my own flashlight, and sliding my Beretta into my holster.  I inch along the floor on my butt to the wall, dragging my sleeping bag with, and drape the bag over my legs.  It is a little chilly in the room after the warmth of being in the bag.

Robert climbs into his bag and his light goes off.  Everything is completely dark and I am not even sure I have my eyes open.  I blink to make sure and things slowly become a lighter shade of darkness.  The soft breathing of everyone sleeping come to my ears in the darkness.  Robert moves in the gray darkness, adjusts the bag and drifts off.  I remember the times when it was just him and I on our weekends and we would talk the night away about some story or another once the lights were out.  We would probably be doing just that right now, talking about the day’s events, if it weren’t for the exhaustion that those events brought about.  My mind drifts to Lynn, hoping she is truly okay, wanting to be there now, to what the future may hold, to the peacefulness of the dream, and once again to the beginning of all of this…..

Washington DC – The Food and Drug Administration reports approval of the Cape Town flu vaccine.  In a statement issued by the administration, the armed forces will be receiving the first vaccinations within the next 24 to 48 hours.  Vaccinations will be available to the general public within 48 hours.  Local flu shot locations can be found at http://.......

“This is a worldwide effort and vaccinations will be delivered to all world countries at the same time it becomes available to the general public here in the United States,” reported a spokeswoman for the FDA.

With the death tolls reported to reach over 200,000 and over one million confirmed cases worldwide, the lines at flu shot locations are expected to be long as fear of the virus spreads.  “We have produced enough vaccine to inoculate approximately 75% of the world population with more being produced daily,” The FDA reports.  “This is due to the world governments and major pharmaceutical corporations focusing their efforts the production of the Cape Town vaccine.

I am so not going to ‘get my flu shot’ nor stand in line to do so.  I don’t usually find myself in groups of people and so I am not overly worried about getting the flu.  I avoided all of the other ones to date and was sure I will not be getting this one either.  More than likely, this will become old news once the vaccine has been distributed.  I talked to Lynn that night, asking if she knew when she was getting hers.  She mentioned that they were required to get theirs within 48 hours of deliverance, the first of which were expected to be the next morning.  She also mentioned that there were an increasing number of people going to sick call, to the point that she had to fill in double shifts and she no longer had her usual day off.  ‘Well, that sucks,’ I told her at the time.  ‘That means we won’t have our usual long skype session.’

“Are you going to get yours right off?”  I asked.

“I won’t have time tomorrow but will have to find time within the next couple of days.”

Washington DC – The Pentagon reported that the first soldiers received the Cape Town vaccine yesterday as the first vaccines were administered to the general public today.  While the death toll and reported cases continues to climb,……..

In my talk with Lynn that night, she mentioned that there were a lot of people who were reporting into sick call.  This was annoying her because her unit was getting ready to deploy back to the states.  The people who needed to be there and help with the deployment were not showing up and it was becoming a huge cluster fuck.

Washington DC – The Pentagon today denied reports that service members were reporting into sick call in vast numbers.  It also denied rumors that armed forces personnel have died as a result of either the Cape Town flu virus or the associated vaccine.

“We do not release details of deaths until the next of kin have been notified,” a spokesman for the Pentagon said in an issued statement.  “We can neither confirm nor deny reports at this time.”

In my nightly talk with Lynn, I mentioned the article.  She gave that look she always gives when she can’t talk about something.  “I can only say that things are a little crazy around here right now,” she mentioned looking back over her shoulder.

“Did you get your shot yet?”  I asked.

“No, but I am supposed to get it tomorrow.  We were given an extra 24 hours to get it done as the waiting lines are huge.  Did you get yours yet?”

“Hell no,” I told her.  “I don’t plan on it either.”

“Well, you’re a big boy now and can make your own decisions.”

“I love you!”  I told her.  “I can’t wait until you are back home.”

“I love you too!”  And that was the last I have heard from her.

Washington DC – Rumors continue to circulate today about large numbers of deaths within the armed forces supposedly associated with the Cape Town flu vaccine.  Other reports indicate violent attacks upon armed forces personnel by unknown assailants.  In one report being circulated by various news sites, these personnel are being attacked by other service members.

A news blackout has been enforced by the armed forces from all bases.  The Pentagon has refused to comment……..

Wow!  What the hell!  I tried to see if Lynn was online.  Nothing.  I tried her phone and sent a message via email.  I even tried her army email address.  I never use that one but I was a bit worried.  So far, nothing back.

A noise outside intrudes on my wondering thoughts.  A shriek very similar to those I heard in my encounters with whatever these things are or have become.  This one sounds far away; almost like the coyote howls I would hear on some nights.  Lonely yet calling their message to others.  Another one answers out in the distance of the night.  I sit against the wall thinking about waking the others.  I will if I hear them get any closer, I think listening for more sounds.  Only the continued soft breathing intrudes upon the night.  After a bit, my mind heads back……

New York, NY– Hospitals have been swamped today with people reporting into emergency rooms citywide.  Sore throats, headaches, and high fevers are being reported similar to those symptoms associated with the Cape Town flu.  Sirens have been a constant sound within the city as emergency personnel respond to the numerous calls.  City officials report that emergency resources have been stretched past the limit of being able to respond to any emergency in a timely fashion.

Numerous deaths in the thousands have been reported within the city of New York alone.  Other major cities across the United States and other countries are reporting similar stories.  The death toll could possibly reach in the millions by the end of the day according to reports being received.

Los Angeles, California – Fear has spread across this city as the reports of deaths and sicknesses continue to mount.  Many businesses and government offices have shut down due to very few people showing up for work.  Hospitals and clinics have been filled up since early this morning from people showing up with high fevers and flu-like symptoms.  Most people are being sent home as emergency services are unable to cope with the sheer volume of the sick.  This is a trend being seen nationwide.

Attacks and riots have been reported within the city and in many of the outlining areas.  The governor has called in the National Guard to restore order to the cities but response has been limited so far.

Reports of people attacking others continue to mount with many deaths from these attacks reported.

Atlanta, Georgia – The CDC has issued a joint statement with the FDA today recalling all of the Cape Town flu vaccines.  All clinics and flu shot locations have been instructed to cease the administration of the vaccine.

Washington DC – The Pentagon is continuing its media blackout and remains quiet refusing any comment.  Rumors continue to circulate through the capital that the armed forces have established quarantine areas within its bases.  Many rumors mention violent attacks by armed forces personnel.

Schools and public service buildings have closed across the country until further notice.  Many businesses…….

I called the kids to see if they were alright.  They said they were doing fine but I could tell they seemed a bit worried by all that was going on.  I don’t have TV service and haven’t in a few years so they were probably getting quite inundated with reports.  They told me that even Shelton here has had reports of deaths and attacks but that was only hearsay.  “Okay,” I said.  “Don’t go anywhere if you can help it.  I’ll see you this weekend.”

Amsterdam, Netherlands – Reports coming out of the Netherlands capital city tonight are staggering.  Government and emergency services seemed to have come to a standstill. 

“The infrastructure has collapsed,” commented one citizen standing in front of his home with his wife and two children standing beside him.  “Riots and fires are burning out of control in some places.  There has apparently been a number of attacks by others and even reports of cannibalism,” he mentioned shepherding his family back into their home.

“I can confirm the reports of attacks on others,” one emergency worker commented while helping another worker lift a stretcher into the back of an ambulance.  “Many of the people we are now responding to have bite marks taking gouges out of their flesh and report these attacks are being made by other people.”

Deaths in the hundreds of thousands have been reported in the city.  Government sources……..

Washington DC – The Pentagon, after maintaining silence for the past 48 hours, has issued a statement today stating that it had established quarantines in many of its bases but that the quarantine has been breached.  It admitted that it has lost contact with a majority of bases worldwide.

Atlanta, Georgia – In a statement issued today, the CDC indicates that the Cape Town flu vaccine has apparently interacted with human DNA on a base level.  These base level changes seem to invoke a violent reaction in those that have not succumbed to the vaccine.  Preliminary figures indicate that the mortality rate from those that have received the vaccine at around 75 percent with a margin of plus or minus 5 %.  The wide margin is due to the small amount of confirmed data currently present.  Reports seem to indicate that approximately 1 percent of the population has a natural immunity.

“The interesting thing we are seeing in this data is that the natural immunity seems to be familial,” Dr. Roberta Kline said speaking from her desk inside the CDC.  “That is, we are seeing that immunity bestow within family groups.  We just don’t have enough data to fully support this but the preliminary figures seem to indicate this.  Another interesting thing that is coming from our data is that the ones who are mutating due to the vaccine seem to have an aversion to light.  Again, our data is limited and needs further study.”

Seaside, Oregon – Fear has spread through this small Oregon coastal community as the number of attack and death reports continues to mount across the nation.

“I have seen people attacking others in the middle of the night,” says one Seaside resident.  “There only seems to be the dead, the sick, or those attacking around.”

“They don’t look right,” chimes in another resident, “and they attack everything in sight.”

It is at this point that a little notice appeared at the bottom right of my laptop.  ‘Network Connection Lost’ it said on my network connection icon.  I looked up at the router on top of my big screen TV to see most of the lights have gone dark.  The link light was still blinking at me but the receive and send lights were dark.  Damn!  No Internet!  That totally, totally sucks, I think as my phone rang.  It was Robert on the line.

“Hey, bud,” I said after pressing the send button.

“Hey, Dad,” he whispered back.

“Are you okay?”

“There’s someone or something in the house,” he said.  “I have Brianna and Nicole down in the basement with me.  We can hear something moving around upstairs.  I have the basement door shut.”

“Can you get out of the basement?  I mean through a window or something?”

“No.  The windows are too small.”

“Okay, keep very quiet and put your cell on vibrate.  Tell Bri and Nicole to turn theirs off if they have them with.  I’ll be there shortly.”

“Okay, Dad,” He said and hung up.

I grabbed my weapons, my keys, and walked to Mom’s house.  After telling her that the kids called and I was going to pick them up, I stepped outside, sliding my Beretta 9mm into the speed draw holster at my side and carrying my 12 gauge pump shotgun.

Mowing the Yard

The sound of a dog barking outside startles me out of my reverie.  The barking is frantic and sounds as if it is coming from the driveway in front of the house.  I am not sure what time it is but it feels like I have only been awake for a short time.  But then again, reveries like that will do funny things to time.  I pick up my gun and scoot over to the darkened lump that I think is Robert, turn on the flashlight but cup my hand over the end to control the light escaping.  I barely make out Robert’s face lying there with the bag pulled up to his chin.  I set the light between my legs as I kneel over him and gently cup my hand over his mouth.  He instantly comes awake and gives his head a twist trying to shake free.

“Ssshhh,” I whisper in the dark.  “It’s dad.  I think there might be something outside,” I whisper as he comes awake and I remove my hand from his mouth.  “Quietly wake the others and watch your light.  Cup your hand over the end.”

I hear him slide out of his bag and move over to the other mounds on the floor silhouetted by the faint light escaping from his flashlight.  I move over and wake Mom.  A light stabs into the darkened room.

“Lights out!”  I whisper sharply and the light disappears, darkening the room once again.  I hear the rustling movement of sleeping bags being moved as the girls slide out of their cozy beds.

“Against the wall like we talked about,” I say softly to everyone amidst the sound of the dog barking outside.

The barking has taken on the continuous aspect of when a dog has spotted something and is doing the territorial thing; sort of that alpha dog thing.  Over the frantic barking comes a shriek.  Like a threatening scream.  I want to head over to a window or the front door peephole to see what is going on but feel this is one of those times to become a black hole, only without any of the gravitational affect.

The frantic nature of the barking is now replaced by silence outside.  One additional bark sounds out followed by more silence.  Now two barks and silence.  A high pitched shriek once again interrupts the silence but with a different tone.  If I can put a tone on it, it seems like a surprised and pained sound.  I hear a loud thump against the house solid enough to be felt followed a split second later by the sharp, short yelp that a dog emits when in pain.  I hear Bri emit a soft moan of sympathy.  She has always loved animals and is, well, was, wanting to become a veterinarian.  The yelps are now coming in a continuous series.  Five, six, seven, and then total silence once again descends upon us in the darkened room.

I look around at everyone through the dim light emitting between my fingers from the flashlight.  Robert has his gun out and is on his knees pointing at the back hallway.  Michelle is facing the windows against the outside wall on the other side of the room.  Mom is behind me with her pistol pointed down at the floor between us and the back door.  Bri and Nicole lean with their backs against the wall surrounded by us; their knees drawn up to their chest, one arm around each other with the other grabbing their outside leg below the knee.  They look like bookends.  It is amazing how they seem to do this without thinking.  Their habits are so similar.   I have a theory that many habits and motions may be DNA based.  I guess it could be mimicry from them being around each other so much but I don’t think so.

We sit there in silence for what seems like an hour but in all actuality is only a matter of about fifteen minutes when I hear the rattle of cans coming from the front of the house.  The noise goes on and on, like someone playing Yahtzee with a tin shaker and metal dice.  One set of the cans on the front porch has been knocked off, and, somewhat amusingly, may be tangled up with whatever is out there.  That would be nice if the cans have in fact become a more permanent part of it.  That way, we will perhaps know where that one is at least; sort of like a cow with a bell around its neck.  I swear I hear a muffled growl and the cans stop banging around.

“Everyone keep absolutely quiet no matter what happens outside.  If something gets in, then different story, but until then, quiet,” I say as silence once more dominates the world around us.

BANG!  The sound at the front door startles me and does a kick start to my heart.  My heart pounds hard as it starts the adrenaline flow through my body.  Another bang as something large slams into the front screen door.  A shriek sounds out amidst the sound of glass breaking and falling to the ground.

“Flashlights on but stand them with the ends on the floor,” I whisper glancing to the darkened shapes around me.  “If anything gets in the front door and there are too many, we are out the side door.  Robert you lead to the door and I’ll cover the rear.  Once outside, we’ll switch and I’ll take the lead.  Everyone else as we talked about before.”

We are quickly illuminated in momentary strobes as lights come on but the dimness returns quickly.  Quick enough that night vision is not drastically affected.  More sounds of glass breaking come from the screen door followed by a grinding, metallic twisting sound.  The aluminum of the screen door screams in protest as though it is being bent in ways it was not designed to.

“Don’t concentrate on the sound in front but focus on listening for sounds in your coverage area,” I whisper not taking my eyes from the kitchen entrance.

I can’t see the kitchen from this angle so the first visual sign I will have of anything will be when it enters the room some twenty feet away.  This is where I keep my gun aimed.  I’m on my knees holding my gun in my right hand with my left hand wrapped around the shaft of the flashlight on the ground next to me, ready to bring it up if necessary.  More of the metallic, twisting sound comes to my ears and then a loud pop.  I am guessing either the screen door latch or hinge has popped off.  I hear Bri sniffle and Nicole whisper to her, “It’s going to be alright Bri.  I’m here.”

A loud, thundering boom comes from the front door.  I don’t hear the wood give way so I think the door is still holding.  I should have put something across the door, I think as another booming thud sounds.  I wanted to leave two routes open to leave from in case we needed to but I never thought anything would be slamming into the doors with a semi.  I feel my heart beat faster as it keeps my adrenaline flow up.  My gun is still pointed at the kitchen entrance.  My hand is steady but my mind is shaking as I think about my kids being here.  I also feel myself bracing for another impact but only the deadened sound of silence prevails but with the afterimage of the thuds still ringing in my mind.  The silence worries me almost as much as or more than the banging.

Another shriek reverberates through the night.  This one seems to come from a little distance away.  If I have to hazard a guess, I would say from a neighbor’s house or a little further.  Another scream erupts from about the same area.   It sounds more human and of someone experiencing total fear.  Oh my god, I think, there’s someone still alive.  Another screams shatters the night but is overshadowed by an ear-piercing shriek from just outside the house.  Tin cans rattle outside once again.  The last sound of the night is another shriek but a ways off in the night.  I hear no more screams or shouts.

“Everyone wait here,” I say and edge to the kitchen entrance with my cupped light and gun.  At the corner, I peek around low and let a little beam of light escape from between my fingers toward the front door to see it is still shut tight in the frame.  I creep silently toward it, steeling myself in case another sudden thud comes.  Damn I have to go to the bathroom, I think edging up to the door to look through the peephole.  If something bangs against the door right now, I may just let loose.

The clear, starlit night is the only thing that greets my vision as I look out of the peephole.  It is amazing just how much light reaches the earth and lights it up from stars millions of light years away.  Many of them probably no longer in existence but their light still comes to rest on us.  Mind boggling sometimes.  The end of the gravel driveway and small rock wall across from me are lit up by these far away stars.  I see a corner of the screen leaning outward to the right.  Nothing is moving.  I pull the door slightly, testing its integrity.  There is only a little give.  I thank whoever it was in the night that screamed, drawing that thing away from us, and send my prayers their way asking the spirits to help them as they did us.

I walk back to the group.  “Is everything okay, Dad?”  Nicole asks from the shadows.

“Yeah, babe, I think so.  For now at least.”

I head into the bathroom to relieve my bladder brought on by my over-worked glandular system making a mental note to flush come morning.  We drag our sleeping bags to where we were sitting, draw them over our legs for warmth, turn out our lights, and wait.

An hour or so passes by before everyone settles back into their bags to try to get some sleep while I keep watch.  Judging from the rustling of the bags, not much rest is actually getting done.  I am exhausted from the day and night and want to drift off.  Luckily, my mind is still keyed up and going a mile a minute with various thoughts, so I don’t quite head off into dreamland.  The only indication that morning has arrived is the sound of birds greeting the dawn outside.

I walk to the back door peeling the blanket back a bit to ensure that the day has indeed come to us.  The light of the coming dawn shows through the crack between the blanket and the door’s window.  “Up and at ‘em,” I call out but am met only with groans and the motion of teens rolling over in their bags.  Well, apparently they did drift off at some point.

“Come on everyone, get up, we have a busy day,” I call out heading outside to start the generator.

I am greeted by the morning sun peeking its way through the trees; just rising over the mountains to the east.  The world spins around as it has in the past and will continue to do regardless of what happens to the life inhabiting this rock flying through space.  The day is beginning to warm up.  The screen door hangs outward and to the side, held on only by the bottom hinge.  Broken glass lies on the deck in front.  I look at the jamb and find it has come marginally loose but held up amazingly well considering how hard the front door had been hit.  The cans lay twisted on the deck with the string still attached.

After heading back in to check that everyone is up, I tell them to roll up their bags before heading over to my place to gather my stuff together.  Arriving at the front door, I take out my gun and throw the door open.  Light reaches inside through the door turning the darkness into a lighter gray.  No movement.  I reach in to the right of the door and flick on the lights.  It is only a large single room so I can see at once if there is anything inside.  It is just as I left it the day prior.  I switch into a flight suit and gather clothes, toiletries, and such putting them into my olive drab duffle bag, heading back to Mom’s house once I have finished.  I also put my abalone shell, cedar, wooden matches, and my black and red paint into a red bag to take along.

“What’s that for? Cool factor?”  Robert asks as I walk back in referring to my flight suit.

“Nah, lots of convenient pockets, and, if there are any military personnel left, I may be able to bluff my way through.”

“Can I wear one?”

“No.  Although we may be able to pass you off, the chances are slim.  Not with them both having the same name tag.  Besides, I only have one flight cap.”

We grab a quick breakfast and throw most of our gear into the vehicles.  I grab a ladder from outside and bring it in to provide an access to the attic for Mom to use as a last bastion of refuge.  I also store some candles, food, water, matches, flashlight, and batteries so she will have items already there in case she has to move fast.  She is still adamant about staying.

“If you have to use that, bring the ladder up after you and shut the access hatch.  You may be able to get down during the day but be very careful about that as it’ll be dark inside the house at all times.  You may have to stay up there for a few days.  Don’t forget to bring your gun and ammo if you have any more,” I tell her standing at the foot of the ladder.  “We’ll be back in a few days.  You can set the cans up on the deck steps each night to give you some warning.”

The water has had a chance to heat up some by this point and so we all bathe.  With the last of the gear loaded, and feeling a little refreshed, we head to the vehicles.  Robert and Michelle will be in the Honda; Nicole, with Bri on her lap, will ride with me in the Jeep.  Robert, Nicole, and Bri all give Mom a hug before I step up to give her one.  “I love you Mom,” I tell her with our arms wrapped around each other.  “I am so thankful for you.  You be careful.”

“I love you too!”  She says and I leave her embrace with tears welling up in my eyes.

 “Stay right behind me,” I tell Robert as he opens the driver’s door.  “If you need to stop or pull over, flash your lights or pull up beside me and let me know.”

“Okay, Dad.”

“If I pull over, pull over with me but keep a little distance.  I’ll wave you closer if I need to.  I’m planning on stopping at Kennedy Creek for a little bit and then the Fred Meyer in Tumwater before we head up north.”

He gives me an odd look and a nod before picking up the keys and climbing into the car.  The sun hasn’t yet cleared the top of the trees as we pull out of the driveway and begin our journey.  I look into the rearview mirror and see Mom waving to us from her position on the front porch.  We turn out of the driveway and she disappears from sight.  I feel an immense sadness fill my heart.  “Be safe,” I say under my breath.

We head down the road and onto the highway.  I glance over at the gas station as we pass.  Everything still looks as it did yesterday; the white truck still parked as it was before.  The roads are quiet.  Passing by the casino once again, I notice oddly that there are significantly more cars parked there than there were at any of the stores or any other places we have been.  Funny, I think shaking my head, how people would still flock there despite all that was going on.  Perhaps a little indication about human nature.

Further down the road, I make the turn toward Kennedy creek.  We have spent a lot of time there in the past, whether hiking up the creek, mountain biking in the hills and woods, or just climbing around.  We park the vehicles and climb out.

“Are we going to your place?”  Nicole asks stretching her legs.

“Yeah, babe.”

“Can I go with you?”  She asks.

“Sure, hon, I would love to have you with.”

“Are you guys coming with?”  I address the rest of our little group. “Or do you want to wait here?”

“How long will you be?”  Robert asks.

“Not long.  Under an hour.”

“I’ll stay here with Michelle,” Robert pipes up.

“No offense, Dad, but I really don’t want to walk that far,” Bri comments.

“Okay guys.  Watch out for others and honk the horns if you see anything,” I say as Nicole and I begin to head up the dirt road.

We all have our own special place in these hills.  For Robert and me, we have our mountain which we have dubbed Mt.Robdad.  We have spent the better part of summer days riding our mountain bikes up there; prowling around the ridge lines and exploring various trails.  It takes us around two hours of hard riding to get up there.  We also hike the creek for miles under the hot sun.  Sometimes I’ve taken Bri to the creek down a little lower on hot summer days.  There are several pools there where we play in the water all day long.  But Nicole, I take her to my special place in the woods.

We hike up the road, mostly in silence, enjoying each other’s company even in our present circumstance.  This place has always been a place of peace and harmony for me.  We turn off of the road after a bit and start up through the trees.  The land slopes upward into the firs and cedars blanketing the area and we climb up to where an old cedar stump sits on the hill.  The stump stands taller than me and is about six feet across.  The scar of an old lightning strike is sliced into it with bits of still scorched wood and bark lying about its ancient roots.  This is where I gather the charcoal for my black paint.  Beyond is a little clearing between sharply rising hills ending against a cliff.  A very small creek flows through the middle originating from beneath the cliff at the far end.  I found this place long ago.  It is a place where the spirits live, showing themselves from time to time.

“I love coming here with you, Dad,” Nicole says as we place our phones, money, knives, guns, and anything along those lines at the base of the stump.  “It’s so peaceful here.”

“I love you here with me, hon,” I say reaching my arm around her shoulder and giving her a quick hug.

I pull out my abalone shell, cedar, and matches.  Putting the cedar in the shell and lighting it, we smudge ourselves before stepping past the stump and out into the clearing.  The sun beyond the cliff wall has not reached the bottom of this small valley but casts streaks of light as it glows through the trees growing at the top of the cliff.  Walking across the spongy ground, I lean down to the small creek splashing my face and hands.  We climb and take a seat on the ground a little ways up the hill.  This is a place where I come to settle my mind and contemplate.  Nicole comes with me when I do.  I sit and let the place fill me.  Squirrels run up and down the trees chasing each other and who knows what else as Nic sits there by my side, taking in the place herself.  Sometimes clear answers will come to me here and sometimes it is just a spiritual filling up.

As the sun’s rays touch the small valley floor, I reach over and pat Nic’s knee a couple of times, “Ready, hon?”

“Yeah, Dad,” she says looking up at me with a smile.

We head out of the valley, gather up our stuff, and head back to our vehicles.  On our stroll back, I think about this whole area and how we have all enjoyed exploring here, wondering if we will still be able to in the future or whether all of this and our time here will just be memories.

Back at the vehicles, we take our places once again and drive away, leaving the trees to go their way and perhaps reflect on our passage.  Hitting the highway, we turn right to continue our journey to the beach.  If all of this had to go down, why couldn’t it have happened in another month?  Then, Lynn would have already been home.  Everything for a reason I guess, I think glancing into the rearview to see Robert driving along behind.

Reaching the Interstate, I turn southbound heading toward the next exit which will take us to Fred Meyer.  The flight computer and watch will come in handy.  While that is a mostly true statement, I also know it is a little bit of a rationale.  Part of it is that it is a nice watch, I want it, and it is just sitting there.

The lanes of the Interstate stretch out before and behind us.  There are a couple of cars to be seen on the shoulders of the road but for the most part, it is as empty as any other road we have seen.  A semi is pulled off just prior to the exit with triangle hazard reflector sitting along the road behind it.  Passing by the semi, I take the exit ramp up to the right.  I had expected the exit ramps this close to town to be partially blocked or at least have a few more cars on them but it is completely clear.  Coming to the intersection at the top of the ramp, I notice the traffic lights are dark.  Either the emergency power that was operating yesterday has now failed or just in this part of town.  Proceeding across the street, with Robert behind, we pull into the parking lot.

I stop just before and in front of the first doors in the shadow of the building.  There are no cars in the parking lot and the front glass doors stare back at us with darkness inside.  I leave the Jeep running as I step outside and walk to the back meeting everyone else there.

“The jewelry store is just inside these doors to the right so we won’t have to go in very far,” I say nodding in the direction of the doors.  “It opens up in front and to the left as well.  I want Robert and Michelle inside but just at the doors.  Nic and Bri, you stay here with the cars.”

I open up the back of the Jeep and pull out flashlights we brought with us.  “Robert, you cover to the left with your light and Michelle, you cover ahead.  I’ll be going in and to the right,” I tell them passing out the lights.  “We don’t need anything here so we leave if there is anything inside.  Call out if you see anything.”

Before closing the rear door, I take the new duct tape and slide it around my left wrist once more thinking, this would have been a great ad for duct tape.  Bite protection.  I actually plan on using it to tape and smash in the glass in the jewelry counter.

“Robert, go start your car and leave it running,” I tell him as I slowly move toward the front door.

There are two sets of double doors with glass panels set in between.  Looking inside the glass panel to the right, I see that the radiant light from outside stretches a fair ways inside.  Clothing racks to the left and fruit stands ahead.  Looking to the right, I see the security fence to the jewelry store is still open.  Thank god, I think flicking on my light.  Pressing the light against the glass in the same manner as I did at the gas station, I move the light around the inside.  A Starbucks counter comes into view as does a deli counter stretching into the darkness next to it.  I play the light into all of the area I can see but there is no movement within.

“Test the doors,” I tell Robert as I continue to run my light around the inside.

I see one of the doors open slightly in my peripheral.  “They’re unlocked,” he says.

“Okay,” I say pushing myself away from the glass panel glad for 24 hour stores.  Pushing the door open with my shoulder, I step inside followed by Robert and then Michelle.  “You two hold these doors open.”

Glancing back outside, I see Nic and Bri leaning against the Jeep.  “Robert, you have that area there,” I whisper sweeping an arc with my light to the left.  “Michelle, you have that one,” lighting another arc in front.  I step ahead and to the right as their beams sweep the various areas around.

It’s a little darker in the jewelry portion of the store due to the angle it sits with not much radiant light from outside.  The same goes for the rest of the store.  An inky blackness swallows up the areas where my light doesn’t reach.  I edge up to the jewelry entrance and peek around the corner with the flashlight extending past the corner.  A slow check of the inside reveals nothing but the glass cases of rings, bracelets, and watches.  Inside, I lean over the first counter to my right shining the light along the aisle behind the counter.  Nothing.  Moving to the far glass case, I do the same.  Nothing.  Checking back out into the store proper, I flash my light down the aisle stretching away.  Nothing.

I set the light on the glass in front of me with the light playing out into the store, covering that area as best as I can while ripping off several lengths of duct tape.  I cover a section of glass with the tape to prevent glass flying and it cuts down on the noise.  I pull out my knife and smack down on the glass with the butt hearing the glass crack below the tape.  I smack down again and the glass gives.  I tap a few more time to clear away the glass around the edges and lift the tape peeling the broken glass with it.  Reaching in, I grab the watch sticking it in my pocket for later as a loud CRACK-BOOM fills the inside of the store.

I grab the flashlight and spin around toward the front entrance, going to my knee and bringing my gun to bear.  My light stabs out toward the entrance.  I am just in time to see a strobe-like light flash out and another gunshot sounds rolls through the interior.  I don’t see Robert or Michelle as the wall to the jewelry store blocks my view of the front doors.  I see both of their lights are flashing over the clothes section where Robert was covering.  “What is it?”  I call out.

“I saw something moving over by the clothes racks,” Robert calls back.  “I think there were a couple of them.”

“I’m coming out,” I say and walk to the entrance, panning my light once around my area and then focusing it over where theirs are flashing.

My light catches something lying on the ground under and next to a section of clothes racks.  I can’t really make out what it is but it does resemble a shoulder or something like it.

“Anyone there?”  I call out circling around to the right to get a clearer look.

No answer.  I continue to circle around.  “Did you hit anything?”  I ask panning my light to check out the area to my side and behind me.

I look over to Robert and Michelle who are holding the front doors open with their bodies with their lights and guns pointed into the area I am circling toward.

“I think so but I’m not sure,” Robert answers.

“Michelle, cover the area behind me to your right,” I say and see her switch her positions.  Her light momentarily flashes over me as it transitions behind me.

I approach whatever is lying on the ground.  It is definitely a shoulder with pale skin but not the pale gray skin of the things I saw yesterday.  The body is wearing some kind of light halter top.  I also see what appears to be another body on the ground next to the first one.  The head must be at an awkward angle as I can’t see it or any hair.  And, if they were hit, where’s the blood?  Then, a sudden flash of understanding goes off in my head; the light bulb comes on shining brightly.  I chuckle and then my flashlight wavers as this turns into a full blown laugh.

“What?”  Robert asks confusedly.  “What?”

“And the score after a round one is Robert – 2, Mannequins - 0,” I call back noticing they were actually pretty nice shots from that distance with a .45.  It looks like he hit the mannequin closest to me in the neck, turning that into dust and launching the head somewhere off into the darkness.  I don’t venture closer to the other one to find out where he hit.

“”You’re kidding!”  He calls over.  “But I saw it move.”

“Trick of the darkness.”

I start to turn back toward them and catch a trickle of movement out of the corner of my eye.  I drop to my knee once again, focusing my light toward where I caught the flash of movement.  My light focuses on the end of a row of shelves and such where underwear and socks hang on display.

“What the hell!?”  I whisper trying to focus my eyes even sharper.

Yes, I talk to myself quite a bit.  I swear I am looking at part of a hand poking out slightly from the end of the shelf about twenty five feet away.  I am at an almost right angle to the shelf unit and so I can’t see down the aisle much.  Really not at all.  It looks like the pale fingers of a hand poking out in an almost sprinters start position.  Fingertips on the ground; fingers rigid and palm raised off of the ground.  A thought crosses that perhaps Robert’s second round hit the arm and the hand flew over there.  Possible perhaps.  But what moved then?

I start to rise from my knee to a crouching position when I see the hand move back slightly into the aisle.  Not much, just an inch or two.  Okay, I’m outta here, I think rising the rest of the way and back toward the front doors.

“There’s something back there,” I mention as arriving at the doors.  “I think you maybe did see something.  Nice job.”

“What is it?”  Michelle asks as we step out into the shadow of the building and let the front doors swing shut.

“I don’t know and I’m not all that keen on finding out.”

“Time check?”  I ask as we step towards Nicole and Bri.  “Oh, wait.  I don’t need to ask that anymore,” I say reaching into my pocket and pull out my new watch.

I see the hands move as it automatically synchs up.  As long as the satellites stay in place, we will have auto time.  I don’t how long we’ll have the use of satellites but I don’t think it will be for that much longer.  Satellite orbits decay fairly quickly if they don’t get their boosts to help them stay in orbit.  Even if those boosts are set automatically, they will eventually run out of fuel, fall back towards Earth, and burn up in the atmosphere.  I set the watch for Greenwich Time on the digital display and the analog time for Pacific.  The watch hands wind to 07:27.  Time to head north.

We head out of the parking lot and catch the Interstate northbound.  We have about a thirty minute drive north to McChord providing the roads stay clear and all goes well.  The sun continues its climb across the cloudless summer sky.  A sky devoid of any human activity.  As motionless as the roads below.  I have only witnessed such a sky devoid of any contrails once before and that was on a fateful September day years ago.  It is amazing just how much sensory input we notice yet on a more subconscious level.  A certain piece here and another there; forming a picture of our reality at any given moment.  We know what should be there and our mind automatically forms it.  We know birds should be flying around but we don’t really see them.  But take a piece out and we notice.  Our subconscious notifies our conscious that it needs to be aware of something.  And then there is the part that filters out things so bizarre that it just automatically drops them.  We have to train our minds to bring those filtered aspects back in.

A couple of miles into our northbound journey, I notice cars lining up in the right hand lane.  At first there were no cars and then suddenly, a traffic jam of cars all in the right lane.  I slow down and pull over into the right middle lane with the Interstate being four lanes wide at this point.  I look into the rearview and see Robert mimicking my lane change.  We proceed a little further and soon the middle right lane begins filling with abandoned cars.  There are some with their doors open but not in one of them do I actually see anyone.  I move over to the far left lane.  We are separated from the southbound lanes by a concrete divider and there is only the random car off the road or on the shoulder in those lanes.  This is a puzzling but we continue north, hoping that the road does not become completely blocked.

The abandoned cars now begin to fill the lane next to us as we drive further north.  It appears like they were trying to edge into the far right lanes, like you find at rush hour when a lane become blocked ahead and vehicles have to merge into one less lane.  I slow way down.  Again, I don’t see anyone; alive or otherwise.  I imagine if the Christian rapture were to ever happen, then this is what it would look like.  No, I take that back.  There are far too many people gone.

We proceed along this strange procession until, up ahead, I see the traffic jam has continued up the ramp of the next exit.  Cars are completely blocking all lanes of the ramp and I see the jam continuing across the overpass.  Again, the light bulb brings clarity to the fog of the unknown.  This is the exit to the hospital.  Okay, note to self:  the hospital areas and roads leading to it will most likely be blocked.  I imagine all the roads leading to the hospital are blocked like this.  The on ramp to the southbound lanes remains clear.  Funny how we tend to be such cattle at times.  Why didn’t they think to just use the other lanes?  Well, that is a Monday quarterback-type of question.  I might have done the same thing.

Passing by the off ramp, I notice a couple of bodies on the sides of road leading upward.  I guess people just got tired of waiting and tried to walk to the hospital.  That’s why I don’t see anyone in the cars.  I also see cars now backed up in the southbound lanes leading to the hospital off ramp there.  The road clears on our side and I accelerate.  I start hoping the off ramps to McChord and FortLewis aren’t like this; or worse.  I am not so keen on having to walk to the flight line with all of our gear.  And yes, I am aware that these two installations had recently merged.  It is just that I still think of them by their former names.  Just past the exits, five dogs stand on a grassy slope next to the road.