Wednesday Morning

Wednesday Morning

By JMBlondin

 

Chapter 1

 

 

                                                                  My eyes snap open and jerking into a sitting position I look around feeling somewhat confused. Long dark walls going in both directions with doors on both sides tells me that this has to be a hallway, what hallway I’m momentarily not sure. I’m sitting on a carpeted floor, it’s damp and in this gloom it’s of undistinguishable color.

             My clothing is also damp and sticking to me. I stink of dried sweat and rot mixed with other smells that I cannot immediately identify. The smells that is most prevalent is the very strong odor of decay and musty. It’s so strong it burns the inside of my nose and causes me to take very shallow breaths through my mouth. Coughing, my eyes watering, I pull out my tee shirt and pulling it up until I cover my nose and mouth. Its damp and that provides some relief. The movement I make causes several small furry creatures to flee from where they too were sleeping along the hall way walls.

Dim light is coming in from a dirty window on the end of the hall to the right as well as around the edges of some of the warped doors. With a start, memory fills in the details, the storm, the ride for my life, the climb up here for safety.

            Getting up I stretch out the stiffness from sleeping on the floor and again look around. The side of my head feels funny like the skin is really tight. I probe the area with my fingers and can feel stubble. That’s the other smell I realize, the unmistakable smell of burnt hair. I can feel where the hair was burnt off the side of my head just above my ear but I find no burns or cuts in the skin.

Reaching down and grabbing my backpack I see a large piece of jagged glass sticking out of the side of the pack near the shoulder strap. So I did get hit when the window exploded after all, I thought. Pulling it out gingerly and tossing it to the floor where it hits with a dull wet thud. Turning I head left to find my bike around the corner by the stairway door, right where I’d left it last night. Pushing open the door I lift the bike and start down.

 

 

 

 

Journal - Post Storm.

 

Let me try to get caught up here. The storm came in and of itself that was no surprise. I have or I should say I had a barometer in the house, one that I found on one of my many foraging trips, so I knew there was a storm coming. But as I watched the pressure fall quickly later in the day I realized that all hell was going to break lose. What I didn’t know was just how bad that hell would be. I should’ve left sooner I now know but I think I was hoping that it wouldn’t get that bad.

            By the time the storm passed and the water receded everything that I had set up, where I was living, was gone. The flood water came up so damn fast that I had only minutes to dress and grab my bug-out pack as I pushed out the door. Jumping on my bike and peddling furiously away from the beach and towards a part of town I try to stay away from, but there sits the tallest buildings. A tall building is my only hope of surviving this. At this point I cannot make it inland far enough to be safe.  In my haste I forgot the goddamn laptop. I’d left it sitting open on the table as I ran out pushing my bike.

            I don’t go downtown unless I have to. Therein lies dangers that are hard to see and harder to get away from. Animals that are hungry live there, hunt there and die there. On the few times I have ventured in it’s been a nerve racking time. There’s no enjoyment in that concrete jungle. I’m spending more time looking over my shoulder then hunting what I need. Even creatures that are usually shy and hidden are driven to the open by hunger or lack of fear. There are also animals there now that were only in cages or behind fences before. They rule where man once did.

            One of my first trips, of which I have only made three, I found myself between a store wall and a lion that use to be viewed by people but now hunted me, I had become its intended next meal. My escape was through a small bathroom window while it tore at the door trying to get in. it took many hours before I could get my bike back.

By the time that I got into town and to an intact building that I hopped  was tall enough I was struggling in a couple of feet of quickly rising water, floating debris and other trash all trying to trip me up as I peddled.

 The wind had picked up greatly as well, trying to blow me off my bike, although as luck did have it, it was mostly at my back. Again and again the rain blew in horizontally nearly blinding me as I tried to ride to safety. Coming in from behind me, all I could sometimes see in the lightning flashes was my own outline where my body blocked the horizontal sheets of rain.

Early in the ride the baseball cap that kept most of the water out of my eyes blew off in a huge gust. Now the water running down my face is stinging my eyes. I could taste salt which told me the wind was picking up sea water and mixing it with the rain as the storm came ashore.

At this time of night the only light to see by were the flashes of lightning which were nearly continuous, some hitting far too close to me as I struggled through the water. Each flash was like taking a black and white picture. Images of cars, trees and buildings were outlined in super contrasted but blurred detail because of the rain; then darkness would momentarily return to be replaced again by another flash of blinding light. My eyes would barely have time to adjust from one extreme to the other. It was like trying to ride with a strobe light to guide me.

 I don’t have lights on my bike because I don’t venture out at night as a rule and if I do venture out it’s walking with a LED flash light, not riding. I am alone here so riding at night and taking a chance of getting hurt, hitting something or being attacked by some animal is not a risk I am willing to take.

The flashlight was something else that I left sitting in the beach house. It was on the small table next to the door, the table that I knocked over in my rush out the door. Between strikes, the after images burnt into my retinas is what guided me.

 A flash illuminated a car just before I slammed into the front of it. Having no time to stop or turn, the front wheel hit the bumper at an angle causing me to flip sideways. My hands being soaking wet couldn’t hold onto the handlebars so I flew off the bike landing on my right side on the hood of the dead red Ford. Peddling in the water filled street as I was, I could not move with any great speed which kept me from being hurt as well as kept me alive, as I would realize in a fraction of a second.

At the same time I hit the windshield another lightning bolt hit a dozen feet away and directly across the street in front of me taking out the top of a tilted lamp post, the top exploding like a bomb. The air sizzled with the power of it sending fingers of glowing electricity zig zagging across the street. Burning sparks of molten metal rained down to drop sizzling into the water filled street.

In that instant my vision was burnt with all the arcs of light from one piece of metal to the next as the energy danced, jumping from wet thing to wet thing. If I had not been lying on that car, protected by the rubber tires I probably would have been fried then and there. As it was I could feel the electrical current in the air strong enough to cause me to twitch and jerk uncontrollably. Somehow I maintained my grip on the edge of the hood by the windshield.

Jumping from metal to metal advancing across and down the street in both directions the glowing arcs were beautiful to see and they filled me with fear at the same time. A store front window at the base of the pole exploded outward sending knife like shards of glass flying in all directions. Some bouncing off the car I was clinging to. How I did not get sliced like the thanksgiving ham I don’t know.

I was shaken nearly off the car by the roar of thunder that followed that flash. Eyes dazzled by the flash then my ears assaulted by the sound, I clung to the edge of the hood with one hand and with the other I held on to the windshield wiper that I had somehow ripped off. Holding it out towards the partly vaporized lamp post like a magic wand.

I felt the thunderclap more than heard it, my ears being overwhelmed by the force of the sound, air was blasted from my lungs as I was nearly blown off the car by the force of the moving air, first inward then outward. The rain seemed to stop for a moment, probably blown outwards by the moving air mass of thunder. Then all was quiet.

 With a buzz and ringing my ears started working again. It took a bit longer for my eyes to see anything except the zig sags of light burnt into them. Sucking in air ripe with ozone along with the smell of burnt metal and the unforgettable smell of burnt hair I slid off the car. Reaching up touching the left side of my head there is now stubble where I use to have hair.  In my left hand I still had a death grip on the windshield wiper that I had ripped off the car. Tossing it aside I found my bike in front of the car by the handle bar barely sticking up above the rising water. Pulling it up I mounted and resumed my slog through the water towards the downtown.

Several time small items would hit me, palm fronds, bits of wood or plastic picked up by the storm mostly hitting my backpack, some my legs and some painfully hitting the back of my head. One piece of debris hit me just above my ear so hard that it nearly toppled me off the bike, I saw stars for a second. That along with the rising water and hammering rain made the trip nearly impossible.

More than once I thought to stop and hole up in one of the houses along the way. Looking back now I would’ve most likely died there had I not fought on. Riding back later to the beach house almost all of those houses that I passed that night were gone or nearly totally destroyed. The remains of the homes, cars and other junk piled up. Huge piles of multi colored hunks of this and that all jumbled up together. Bright blue part of a wall here, pink piece of something else next to it all inter twined with broken trees, bright green palm fronds and other junk.

I remember seeing pictures from New Orleans after the surge. Cars and the remains of houses all piled up against whatever would hold them, like trees or a strong building. People drowned because the place they sought for refuge became their place to die. The extent of the damage was the same here close to the coast.

            By the time I got to a building that I thought would shelter me I was walking pushing the bike. I don’t remember ever thinking that I should abandon the bicycle, for some reason I felt that I had to take it with me. No longer being able to ride because the water was now waist deep and filled with floating junk.  On parts of it there sheltered rats and cockroaches along with other critters that I did not even try to identify. In seems that when life is in the balance ever one of god’s characters can get along.

Twice before I got into the building I found a rat climbing my leg in its bid for safety above the water. In each case I gently removed it, placing it on something floating and wished it luck before I moved on. Just before I got to the hotel that I picked for refuge I had to stop and brush the cockroaches and others off my shirt and my face. Even in the pounding rain I still reacted to a roach crawling across my face. I am so glad I didn’t run into a snake or alligator.

Shouldering my bike I walked into a flooded lobby of a many storied hotel. The letters H I L were all that’s left of the sign above the glassed in entrance. Pushing my way around floating furniture and other junk I found the back stairs behind the front desk. Once I got inside the door I stopped to peel several sheets of wet paper from my legs. Then I started to climb up carrying the bike.

Climbing was a nightmare. No electricity means no lights. Battery backup exit lights died a very long time ago. No lights means I had to feel my way all the way. I knew the lightening was still flashing outside because I can still hear the rumble and roar but in here it’s dark, very dark. I found landings because there were no more steps. I followed the walls with my hands until I found the landing door. Sometimes I could find the door by the flash under it when the lightening flashed. For the next floor I again followed the wall until I found the next set of stairs.

 I had to carry my bike up six flights of stairs with water licking at my heels for the first flight; the building shuddering with each blasts of wind. The sound at times a deafening shriek as it pushed through the stairway as I climbed.  

I had no idea how far the water would rise nor if the building would even hold but at this point I didn’t had any other choice. It was either climb and hope or surely drown out there in the storm. When I reached the landing on each floor I would open the door, keeping my foot against it so it wouldn’t slam open due to the wind.  Then I could look down the hall waiting for a flash to show me what was there.  Reaching the fourth floor the exit door was rusted or jammed in some way so I couldn’t open it. In every case the halls were filled with rain and swirling debris pushed by the wind as it blew through missing windows and broken doors. There was no refuge there.

It wasn’t until the sixth floor that I found what seemed to be the quietest and driest place to spend the night.  By then my legs were about played out, the calf muscles burning and my shoulder where the bike rested was beginning to scream at me in pain. Not to mention all the bruises and small cuts the debris had gifted me with. This is the most exercise that I have had in a very long time and I was feeling ever step.

Spending the night in a dank wet and musty smelling hallway listening to the wind howl was not my most delightful evening of the last year. Somewhere below me a door kept banging until with a roar it tore loose and slammed into something, probably a wall.

I dug into my sodden pack for some emergency food bars and bottled water. That was my dinner. Sometime during the night exhaustion over took me and I fell asleep.

 

Chapter 2

 

The past year-

 

Let me see if I can reconstruct the pages that I had so painstakingly put together that are now lost due to the loss of the computer. If the battery powered clocks and calendar are correct I have been alone for almost a year, 235 days to be exact.

 

Journal - Pre Storm.

 

I awoke on that Wednesday morning as usual, got up, slapped the alarm and headed to the shower, got dressed and headed out to work. Once I walked outside I did notice that it was very quiet, looking back I would now say un-naturally quiet.

            I live in a big city and in a big city it is never really quiet, nor for that matter it’s ever really dark either as I would find out later. On that morning the sun was beginning to rise causing the sky to be a beautiful red orange color. That did not catch my attention although I do remember it. What did was the quiet. There was no noise. No car sounds, no ambulances racing to the scene of a wreck or some ailing person; no crotch rocket screaming down the city street. I don’t even remember hearing birds although I’m sure there probably were some out already. There usually are that early.

            Heading out my first inkling that something was wrong was the cars, what few there were that early, just sitting in the road. Some on the sidewalks and one smoking having recently burnt against a low concrete wall.  Slowing down I examined the cars as I passed, there wasn’t anyone in them. No one on the sidewalks or around the vehicles anywhere unlike the normal crowds that form at a wreck, people seemingly coming out of the woodwork. Looking back I think I was a bit stunned because I didn’t really grasp what was wrong, until I got to work.

            I’m a maintenance supervisor and work at a small private airport on the edge of town, we are always open and there are always people there, employees I mean. I parked in my assigned parking place went to my office and grabbed my coffee cup, pulled the radio out of its charger and clipped it on, scooped up my ID badge hanging it around my neck as I headed to the front to get coffee and check on the day.

            There was no one at the front desk when I walked into the lobby. OK… so that happens sometimes. They get called to the back to help out or they may go to use the bathroom so no big clue there. Outside through the floor to ceiling windows I could see a plane, props turning slowly but it wasn’t moving. Again no big red flag there either.

            Arriving in the back room there wasn’t any one there, not in the room, in the kitchen or on the ramp outside that I could see. I checked the bathrooms to find them empty as well. I keyed up my radio and called out but I got no response. I set my cup on the counter next to the coffee machine, it’s probably still there to this day.

            OK I thought, maybe my radio isn’t working so I grabbed one off the charger and turned it on, keyed the mic and nearly dropped it when the feedback screeched in my right ear from my collar mike. Mine is definitely working so I turned off the one I had picked up, slipped it back into the charger and keyed mine up again calling. Nothing, no response. I waited for a few seconds and called out again. Still no answer. I remember thinking, this is very strange.

            While I waited for someone to answer me I reached down and touched a full cup of coffee sitting on the long gray table where we ate our lunches. It was at room temperature so I know it’s been there for a while.

            It did not take me long to understand that there was no one here. I ran out and checked the plane. Its door was open and stairs down so I climbed in to find it empty. I even checked the aircrafts bathroom, just in case, nothing, so I climbed out. Standing there on the ramp beside the plane is a good visual vantage point, I can see a long way, a hundred eighty degree view.

As I turned around scanning the airport I could see smoke rising off in the distance in two places, one to the right and one almost center from my point of view. I could see thick huge columns of black smoke from fires that were really burning hot and spreading as I watched. I remember thinking those are neighborhoods over there. The same gentle wind that was turning the parked air plane’s props was moving the smoke away from me.

            At this point I was beginning to freak out. I ran to my office although looking back I am not sure why, spun my chair around sitting down I picked up the phone. Over the next little while I called everyone I could think of, pulling numbers off my phone list. I remember thinking that if I used up the battery in the cell I might not be able to recharge it if the power went out so I plugged it in. I am an avid sci-fi reader so I was already getting a very bad feeling about what was happening.

             Something out of a dime store novel from one of the famous writers I have read over the years, maybe a story line from that 30 minute black and white show my folks use to watch, twilight something or another. The one with the really catchy intro music.

            I don’t know just how long I sat there. I tried the computer, the internet was working. Social media was up and I noted that no one had posted to me or anyone since 2:16am. My lady posted at 2:08, Can’t sleep…U up? I posted back, tried to call….call me right now! Am just getting nothing but your voice mail prompt.  Sent the same thing to her in a text but as I continued to try other numbers on the desk phone my cell never rang, it has never rang since.

            I don’t remember going home I just remember waking up the next morning to the awful realization that there was no one around. I never found signs of the missing. I mean there weren’t piles of clothing where they were standing when it happened like in some movies. There wasn’t blood or anything like that. They were just no longer in the world….no one.

            Ok enough for today, I have things to do.

 

 

Chapter 3

 

 

Journal - Post Storm.

 

 I know, I know I’m way behind but I have been really busy. Locating a place that I can make my new home has proved very problematic. I want to stay near the coast for the fishing and the beach although a lot of it now is covered in trash from what I am calling a small tsunami. I also need to be far enough away so that I can have fresh water and high enough so hopefully I don’t get flooded out again. I also want something that is not closed in with other houses. I need room to breathe, to see what’s around me or what may be coming. I fully intend to plant a garden again because I relax working in the ground and I will need fresh vegetables. Fruit is not a problem. There are thousands of orange and grapefruit trees, bananas and such around here.

            Earlier today I went to the ocean, something I try to do from time to time. I have to wonder why water has such an effect on me, I mean being in it. Stripping down naked I waded out until I was about chest deep. The surface was like glass today. The air hot and humid without a breeze. The cool water felt great as I laid back and floated there, my face about the only thing showing. I can really empty my mostly cluttered head when I do this, it use to be that I could never shut down my mind, never quiet the voice within. But out here, like this, for some reason I can. I use to go to a pool where I could get into deep water. My favorite was in a resort near where I lived. There were three pools and the one I liked best had a seven foot deep end. I could go in and sink to the bottom. I would sit down there as long as I could hold my breath and just relax.  

            After all that has happened I can lie here floating, unmoving, being supported by only the salt water. Doing this I can really rest my mind. I floated there for a while, moving my hands from time to time to keep the sun behind me and not in my eyes. Looking back I still have to laugh at the memory that returns.

            Floating there I farted. One of those big ole farts that formed a bubble then it slowly, ever so slowly slides up the crack of my ass and up my lower back. The bubble moved slowly upwards sliding along my skin until it rounded my side and rose to the surface popping there. It felt like some little critter walking along my skin. The smell was really bad and between laughing at myself and trying to get away I ended up swallowing some sea water, coughing my head off.

 

 

Chapter 4

 

TV or radio news and weather is now a thing of the past so I’m not going to get early storm warnings anymore, oh, I did find my barometer in the remains of the old place. It’s so strange how the storm surge only damaged some of the beach houses and totally destroyed some, sweeping others away. My house was on a higher spit of land that ran along where the fresh water river fed into the salt water.

The barometer was undamaged if you can believe that. Part of the kitchen wall had slid across the room pushed by sand and water and when it stopped the remaining section protecting the weather predicting tool from damage. I climbed a small sand dune where my living room use to be and found it. Found the computer too with my journal as well jammed into the remains of another wall and buried in all kinds of junk and sand. It was a waterlogged mess. The screen was twisted off attached to the keyboard by just a few wires. Everything I had in it was no longer available to me. I almost cried at that point. Everything I had written, all my notes and the diary that I was keeping were lost. Bits of data now trapped forever within the twisted remains of the laptop. I almost felt like I should hold some kind of funeral or something for it. It meant that much to me but in the end I just walked away.

            Once I found a new house that would work out I set about getting it ready. My solar cells and batteries were destroyed in the storm and subsequential flood and although a lot of work it is not really an issue because I know where there are plenty more. It’s just a pain to unwire, remove, transport and then reinstall them but that’s what I’ll have to do…again.

            I have spent the last few days hauling food from the supermarkets and the supercenter that the flood waters didn’t reach. I have turned one of the three bedrooms into a storage room putting up steel shelving. Walking between the four rows I easily see what I need to restock.

Stocking means heading inland to another area that wasn’t damaged. The stores don’t smell like they did in the beginning; hauling is a hassle but a necessary chore. I cannot call for home delivery anymore.

I have a truck that still runs. It’s an older model and does not have all the extra electronic stuff on it so it’s easy to fix. Fuel is not a problem yet for the most part. I keep a small generator in the truck bed to operate pumps when I need fuel.

The stores are a mess now because of rats and other critters. I am careful when in them. I have learned what a rat nest smells like and avoid them like the plague. I am not afraid of them but they have gotten bolder now that people are gone. Many times I have been gathering supplies only to see one or more, noses twitching, sitting on a shelve watching me work.

They prey on the box and paper wrapped items but leave the can and glass packed goods alone. Sometimes in homes I find things like cookies that were stored in re-sealable plastic ware and are not too bad but anything like that in a store I don’t touch. I do indulge in chips from a can from time to time but not too often. I am here alone, no Doc’s to help me out so I really try to keep my diet as healthy as I can. Oh… there is a stash of semi-sweet chocolate in a really pretty metal can in my kitchen…. for medicinal purposes.

 I know there will come a time when the truck will no longer run and I will have to rely on my feet, my bike or maybe some kind of a wagon. Can and bottle goods are heavy to carry back and forth to and from the truck and house. The borrowed shopping cart helped a lot. I’ll return it when done, I promise.

 I also have many cases or MRE’s that I located in a home early in my scavenging days. If all else fails they will keep me for a long time. Boring food but food never the less. Trash is also not an issue. So that I don’t invite rats and the like here I wash out everything, crush the cans and break the glass so they take up less space. Then I move them to an empty building not far from here.

 

Journal - Pre Storm.

 

            The next few days are a blur. I know that I did eat some and I know that I slept a lot. I tried many times to call my kids, brother and girlfriend without success. The power went out on day nine as I remember and water stopped flowing a couple of days later. I think that I was just numb about the people being gone, really sick about my lady and my family but at that time wasn’t really worried about me. I have been divorced for almost five years so being alone is a bitch and nothing new but not being able to talk to anyone, now that is a bitch of a different color.

            In the beginning I moved from my house to the local grocery store but after a few days the stench was so bad from rotting meat and vegetables that I moved out. There was a nice motorhome at a construction site down the street so I moved into that. Instead of the bathroom in the motorhome I used the port-a-john at the site for a week or so until it became so bad that I could no longer stand going in.

            After getting some Vicks from the local pharmacy and smearing in under my nose I put on two layers of paper mask and went back into the grocery store, loading up the motorhome with can goods, water and of course toilet paper, lots of toilet paper. I remembered something I saw once where the guy pushed out the cardboard centers which allowed him to flatten the rolls and store more in a small space so that’s what I did. I’m not sure why I did that or even worried about it, there are thousands of homes around me. What home doesn’t have toilet paper?

Other than the immediate plan to survive, I really didn’t make plans in the beginning.  I think that I was in shock for quite a while. I would just drive down a street, park for a day or so using the houses around for whatever I could find; food, water and the toilets flushing them with a bucket of water usually from a pool. When all of that was exhausted or I got bored I would move down the block.

  I learned to take cold showers back then. Fortunately the water in this part of the world is never really cold. Once the water stopped flowing into the houses I would use swimming pools or whatever I could find for bathing and flushing. I do remember getting a whiff of myself a few times and realized that I hadn’t gotten cleaned up in a while. I think that I spent a lot of time back then staring out into space, numb, trying to cope. Driven out of my lethargy by bodily needs like food and water.

            At one point I think I finally got use to the quiet and I did hear birds and an occasionally a dog bark. Once I even did see a couple dogs several blocks away. They stopped what they were doing and stared at me as I did them. I think that was about twenty days after Wednesday although I am not sure. Back then the days all ran together and I didn’t keep track. I have seen dogs and cats from time to time as I travel about even a couple of other animals that I was not sure about, maybe they were coyotes, I had heard they were about in the days before Wednesday. Raccoons I see often. Even at a distance I can tell it is them by the funny way they run. That arched back scamper that is so raccoon.

I have been referring to that day as Wednesday for lack of anything else to call it. I have no idea what happened, none what’s so ever; nothing really changed except everyone is gone. The sun still comes up and sets, air is still breathable and all that, it’s just really quiet; oh and I can now see stars at night, no city lights to flood the sky with wasted light. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed seeing stars.

 Finding a really nice bike on the back porch of one of the houses I spent the day adjusting it to fit me and then riding it. Relearning to ride took most of the day because I haven’t been on a bicycle in so many years. I didn’t ride far at first, just a couple of blocks at a time but it was fun. At one point I was whooping it up while riding. Coasting along with my legs sticking out like some kid. It was a great feeling. Little did I know that it would become my main mode of transportation sooner than later.

           

Chapter 5

 

Ok journal, I am trying to piece the past back together on these pages while keeping up with what is happening now. This new laptop seems to have a much better battery in it, it’s not as heavy and it’s comfortable to type on. I am also putting this journal on a flash drive that I keep on a chain around my neck just in case. I am not going to screw that up again.

 

I’ll be back.

 

Today went much better. The bed in this place is much nicer than the one that I had at the beach, it probably will float as well though, HA, HA, HA- a little flooded out joke. I was a maintenance man for many years before I became a supervisor, I fixed shit….that’s what I do so it’s not really hard to get this place set up. I know how to wire things, do plumbing and tile. I am not good at finish carpenter stuff but I can do the basics there so whatever I need I can do and if not….I just figure a way around it or do without. It’s funny what you can do when you have unlimited budget and resources, not to mention time, I have all the time in the world.

Having slept for almost nine hours I was awaken from a dream by the sun in my face, nice warm sun and to the sound of a soft wind moaning through the screens in the window of my bedroom. The sound that as a kid puts the chill of fear in your heart at night but now just makes me smile. I am sleeping so much better now than in the beginning. Rolling over to look out the window there is a gossamer spider web floating past the window catching the sunlight, throwing up a rainbow strip of color as it moves. It’s beautiful.

I was dreaming about Sharon. One of those “so real” dreams one that you just know is real but when you awake the bubble bursts. The feelings quickly slide away like smoke in the wind and you are then left with just the sadness knowing that it was just a dream once again.

            In the dream we were walking down a path, a dirt path, and dense heavy woods all around. The air is warm but not humid. The path is winding downward and I can catch glimpses of it through the tree covered hillside as I look down and ahead of us. Somewhere off in the distance I hear the knock, knock, knock of a woodpecker on what sounds like a hollow tree; the sound echoing as it passes.

We’re holding hands swinging are arms in unison as we walk, were not saying anything.

Then as dreams go we were standing naked on wet smooth rocks in a waterfall falling softly from above us. The water’s warm and caressing as it slides down our bodies. Droplets sparkle in the sun as they drip from her nose and nipples. Her hair is plastered to her face outlining her smile and sparkling eyes. I take her hand and turning step into the small shallow pool behind me, drawing her as I step then turn to once again face her. She is standing slightly above me on the rocks, water splashing behind and around her so the sun and water droplets mix to make a rainbow halo around her. She is so beautiful it nearly leaves me breathless.

            Smiling a wide grin she reaches for me and I help her down holding onto the wet slipperiness of her skin. In the warm water we make love, slow and gentle without a care in the world. Looking up at her as she moves above me she has that lost in the moment half smile on her face as we moved together, her eyes un-focused. Behind her back blue sky and the outline of trees covered in green.

Then we’re back walking again holding hands. I look to her and start to say how incredible that was but her face is replaced by the sunshine as I opened my eyes. I cannot help but smile through my sadness at the fleeting memory because we had never made love in a waterfall in the woods yet; as things stand now probably never will.

Chapter 6

 

The days are hot but not unbearable yet. Yesterday it rained for a few hours stopping me from working outside on the yard. Yeah… no shit, I am working out in the yard. What else is there for me to do? I have all the food and water I need; solar cells and batteries provide me power so why not. I am planting flowers around the yard. The vegetable garden I started is doing well under the shade cloth. I even cut the grass with the battery powered mower I found at one of those big box lumber stores. I tried to pay for it but no one came to take my money.

            I was walking around that store getting seeds. Some flower but mostly vegetables as well, a small shovel and a rake plus a three foot high roll of chicken wire fencing to keep out rabbits when I came across the display of American flags.

Looking at them I realized that I couldn’t focus because of the tears. My country for all that it was is gone. It is still here physically but the driving force, the people are gone. In some ways it was not the best but it was mine and it was damn good for a lot of people, people that are now gone.

I took a flag, a pole, pole bracket and my seeds with the rest of my borrowed stuff and headed back home. That flag now flies over the front porch of my new home and somehow seems to make it better.

            I’ve parked the truck in a dry garage and haven’t brought it out for some weeks now. There’s a trickle charger on it so it should be ready when needed. Most everything that I need now I can get in my backpack on the bike. I’m finding out that riding is so much better than racing around in the truck. There hasn’t been any traffic for a long time now so when I do drive or did drive I saw nothing, heard nothing except the sound of the vehicle. I was so intent on getting to where I wanted and then getting back home that I failed to see anything around me.

I remember one day stopping at a stop sign and sat there for a moment. When I understood what I was doing I started laughing. I laughed until I cried and then cried until I could no longer cry. I think that was the day that I finally came to grips with being alone. All of the loss, the sadness and loneliness came out at the same time.

            Now on the bike I hear the birds and I see what I am traveling past. It is so much better for my soul and so very much sadder as well. The rush rush rush that I was living to get things done was partly to fend off the ever present feeling of being alone; that’s now replaced with a much slower pace.

It has not been long enough for the passage of time to show much neglect on the houses that I past. Sure the yards are overgrown, hedge rows badly in need of attention and even a few flowering bushes and trees still trying to brighten up the overgrowing green.

            But the houses are still empty, playgrounds silent, the stores vacant of shoppers. Christmas has come and gone without the omnipresent sound of Christmas songs. No blinking lights to color the leafless trees.

            New Year’s just another sunrise and sunset with nothing to celebrate. I find that I look at the calendar less and less these days, pretty much the same with the clock. It really does not matter anymore. Each day is like the last with the exception of the weather. I keep myself busy with chores and taking care of me. I still shave but I no longer cut my hair. I do a lot of reading,  A LOT of reading. Thank God that I developed a love for books at an early age.

            I tried watching movies and even some porn on the computer for a while; for a while it was ok and helped. I soon realized that the porn just made me more frustrated and movies were showing what no longer was, so I quit doing it. I was also in constant fear of running the battery down or doing something wrong causing me to lose things from the computer’s memory so I stopped.

For some reason sitting down under a tree or on my porch or even peddling to the beach and pulling out a book didn’t result in the same frustration or reminders. I don’t know how many times I fell asleep reading.

Music…now that is something that I do indulge in. Both of the MP3 players I have are rechargeable. Obviously I cannot down load music from the internet anymore but I can collect other sources of music like MP3 players that I find in homes and download them into my computer. Then put my choices on my player. Is that stealing music I wondered one day, if so then let them come and get me. I will be glad to talk to them whoever they are. I downloaded a mess of songs one afternoon and was starting to transfer them when a song leaped out at me. Simon and Garfunkel’s Sound of Silence. That song hurt me inside when I listened. After one time through I deleted it, it brought up to much pain.

I happened to look at the date today. You know, it’s down there on the right side of the computer screen. I just wondered. Seems I have miss the celebration, missed the day all together. Today marks 389 days since Wednesday. 389 days alone, 389 days without the sound of another human voice except through some recordings. I should’ve had a party or something on day 365.

            I climbed back on my bike and headed to the nearest liquor store. I shouldn’t have to celebrate at home for this day. I am taking the day off I yelled at the house as I rode away. Beer is long past good having turned skunky a long time ago. Wine is not my favorite but I do like Riesling. But champagne, champagne is what I need for this momentous day. Finding the largest and most expensive bottle on the shelves I put in the pack on the bike and head to the beach.

I sipped from the bottle, go take a swim then back to the bottle. I dug a small indentation in the sand to hold the bottle leaving it sitting there at a bit of cocky angle. Feeling full of myself I swaggered down the beach for a while until I found a beach rental house that was not damaged.

Forcing open the sliding door I quickly found a towel embossed with the name of the place and an ice bucket. Humm…. no ice…. what’s up with that? Better call fucking room service! I sneered at the room as I left. Making my way back to the bottle I arranged the towel and plunked the bottle into the bucket being ever so careful to wipe the sand from the bottle first. Looking to my left at my imaginary beach buddy with nice little tits I said, Can’t have a dirty bottle now can we my dear? Holding up the bottle in a salute, I took a drink. Then I offered her the bottle. What, not thirsty… well ok then I said to her and took another deep draw.

            I passed the rest of the day sitting there sipping the wine, swimming or just wandering back and forth carrying the bottle like a drunk. Swaying slightly drunk for the whole time as I watched the day pass towards night. As the sun dipped into the ocean I stumbled back to the room where I’d swiped the bucket and towel, forced the door closed and then I slept lying crosswise on the bed.                   Leaving the next morning I saw the sun glinting on the stainless steel ice bucket with the upside down bottle sticking out. The bright orange towel nowhere to be seen. Must have been blown away during the night I thought as I climbed over a rail and stepped into the street where my bike was.

           

Chapter 7

 

Out riding yesterday. Nothing different there. I wasn’t on a supply run I was just out. I rode very slowly really looking at things. Grass grown out over what use to be sidewalks and drives. Small trees, oaks I think, growing up in the middle of yards. There are still a few flowers out here and there. It was cloudy without any wind so the air was still but warm.

            As I rode down the street weaving around dead cars, broken tree limbs and other stuff in the roadway I had that feeling like something was going to happen, there was that “feeling” in the air. Stopping in the middle of the street so that the crunch of leaves and twigs under the tires was silenced I listened, I mean really listened, slowly turning my head back and forth. Cocking it like a dog does trying to trace a sound.

            The air grew heavier as I stood there straddling the bike. Even the birds had become quiet. Then I heard it, a quiet hissing sound from behind me. The sound grew louder as I stood there. My reaction was causing the little hairs on the back of my arms to move. Looking over my shoulder as I put my foot back on the peddle expecting to see a bear or something but I saw instead rain advancing up the street. It was the coolest thing, like a wall of water moving towards me.

The sound was coming from the water passing through the tree branches along the street. It was close enough that I could see leaves jumping on the pavement as they were hit by the huge shiny droplets. In front of me the sun setting lower in the sky and behind me the wall of rain. The rays of the sun causing tiny rainbows where the rain drops splashed. For a moment I was mesmerized by the colors and the sound.

            Jumping up on the bike I peddled as fast as I could diagonally across the street to the nearest house, jumping off and pushing it I ran under the extended eaves of the garage. Leaning against the door to keep from getting wet I felt it move so I squatted down reaching behind me grasping the handle and then heaved up.                     The door protested for a moment then it moved up in its track almost soundlessly. One side of the garage was empty, on the other a very expensive car, top down, so I pushed the bike in kicked down the stand propping it up. Stepping back to the door I stuck my head out to watch.

The sound of the rain coming down in a nearly continuously sheet was mind numbing, a bit scary but reassuring at the same time. The cool fresh smell soon replaced the smell of wet dusty road smell that you sometimes get at the beginning of a rain shower. I stood there for quite a while watching the water running down the street carrying leaves and small twigs. It ran quickly before forming a small lake at the nearly plugged drain. Stepping back I pulled down the door before heading into the house.

            Inside the house was nice. As expected a bit dusty and musty but not bad considering how long it’s been empty. Expensive well-built home I thought. Walking around listening to the rain pounding on the metal roof was very peaceful. Each room was as it was left, a bed made in this room, unmade in that one. Dishes in the sink, a small blue dish with something round on it. An old dried donut I think, a set of car keys lying on the counter next a pen and paper, A Shopping List printed in bold type across the top and below it listed; cheese slices, buns, mustard, pickles, and milk. At the bottom of it was a note, pick up Molly at 4:30 for the party. Tapping the note with my finger I said to the house, I bet that didn’t happen.

            At first it use to bother me walking through people’s homes, touching their stuff or in some cases taking things, things I needed, but those feelings were quickly replaced with the feeling of wonder.  I wondered who lived here, what was their life like. Were they together on Wednesday or alone? Pictures of a family that once were but are no longer are hanging on the walls. I could dig through their things, pictures and such and maybe get a better handle on the lives they lived but that is more information that I really want. It’s enough just to look at the superficial things as I move about and paint a happy picture in my mind. That’s easy….who puts up pictures of angry people?

I stood in the middle of the family room holding a bottle of water, one of many I found in the pantry, just looking out the wall of windowed doors. Watching the rain water splash through the mostly still intact pool enclosure screens. The rain breaking into nearly a mist as it hit the screens then splashing into the green colored water of the pool. I’m once again thinking about the people gone and for the thousandth time wonder why I am still here and for the thousandth time I’m absolutely clueless.

            I laid down on the couch where I could watch the rain and woke up some time later. It was dark by then and quiet, the rain having stopped. I don’t travel after dark unless I have to. Unlike the city that was, this city of now very dark at night. I don’t worry about someone or something hurting me as much as I worry more about running into something and getting hurt.  A broken arm or cracked ribs could be fatal now. So I just untied and kicked off my shoes as I pulled the throw off the back of the couch, covered up, and went back to sleep.

 

 

Chapter 8

 

I was riding slowly again today, nowhere particular to go just out riding when turning a corner I could see a dog sitting in the street. Just sitting there like any dog would. He turned his head and looked at me.

            I’ve seen dogs from time to time and have heard them barking, sometimes a lot of them but as yet I have not encountered any that were closer than a few blocks away. And as yet I have not approached nor have they. In most cases they turn and run away. I have often thought it would be really nice to have a dog as a companion but I haven’t tried to find one, one more mouth to feed and all that, maybe later. I tell myself if I ever happen across a pup… but I’ve not as yet.

            Anyway I sat a straddle the bike my feet on the ground looking at the dog as he sat in the middle of the intersection. He’s looking at me from nearly a block away. He’s a brown dog, short haired it looks like and seems to be relatively well fed, maybe sixty or so pounds. For a moment we just looked at each other, neither of us moving. Then his ears lifted, twitched, then shifted. He swung his head to the right as another dog padded into view followed by a third. The three of them just looked at me. Then they all shifted their gaze to the other direction. From the other side came two more dogs from behind a building. Five dogs of about the same size now looking at me. The brown dog still sitting while the others stood.

            I should have realized what was happening, should have thought what this meant but I didn’t, I just sat there. The sitting brown dog, the first one, stood up stretched then took a step forward never breaking eye contact with me; just that one step then he stopped. The others moving up as well but didn’t pass him.

            On the back of my neck the hairs started to prickle and like a flash I realized that I am fixing to be in some kind of deep shit here. Without taking my eyes from the lead brown dog, I assume it’s the lead dog anyway, I brought one foot up slowly from the ground finding one of the peddles with my right foot. I slowly started to ease my weight onto it. At the same time slowly pushing the handlebars over so I can head away from the dogs all of this without breaking eye contact.

            The lead dog took another step and the others move up beside him again. They are now standing just a little behind his head; almost forming an arrow shape with their bodies aimed directly at their prospective dinner, me. They are all staring at me and I am beginning to understand the feeling of a hunted animal. Right now it’s a standoff, they’re not moving, and I’m not moving. Shifting only my eyes for a moment I look off in the direction that I will have to go to get away, my guts clench up and then I get this sinking feeling as my bowels feel like they are about to turn to water and empty.

            That one quick glance was enough to see that there is not a damn place for me to go. Just another block of yards and houses. Dogs are fast and I don’t think that I can peddle fast enough to get away or stay away. I’m in good shape but not that good. I don’t ride hard and fast as a rule. I can ride for hours but at a slow pace. A lot less danger of a spill that way. Their stamina is surely much better than mine as is their incentive, they’re hungry and they also have four legs to my two.

            There is a sound, I do not know what it was but it is the trigger for the dogs and for me. They start to run towards me and I jump up on the other peddle and start pushing my way to the highest speed I can in the shortest time. Swinging the bike beneath me left and right to increase the amount of pressure I can apply to the peddles.  I am moving pretty good but as I swing the bike below me I can see in my mirror with each pass that the dogs are gaining on me.

            I might have been able to out run them for a short time had I already been moving when they started to run but their traction and zero to Oh My God is far faster than I can hope for. A few seconds into the chase they are gaining ground fast as I watch them in the mirror and I am already peddling as hard as I can. At this pace I will be winded long before I get away. Calling a time out is not in the cards I think.

            It is time to think and stop reacting. These dogs will have me for dinner if I do not stop reacting and think, I chide myself as at the same time I’m nearly in panic mode. The adrenalin helping me to push to my fastest speed all the while pushing my mind nearly into prey based panic.

            Something deep within me is trying to tell me to just give up, it’s over. Pushing down those thoughts I push even harder on the peddles finding strength that I didn’t know I had.

Up ahead and on the right is a fenced yard, chain linked fence. There’s a rise like a berm along the yard and the fence rides on top of that. Including the berm it makes the top of the fence a bit over four feet tall I think. Enough I hope as I maneuverer towards it now riding along the curb. The fence runs along the street from the house but not around the corner that I am now passing.

            A quick look back over my shoulder I see the dogs are very close now. They are close enough that I can hear the sound of their nails on the concrete. If I can hear that then they’re too damn close I remember thinking. Part of my mind is expecting growling, foaming at the mouth with spit flying, little gobs of the white stuff sticking to their fur as they run. All the things from the old movies comes unbidden to my mind. These dogs are without a doubt intent on pulling me down. They are not joyously running to greet a long lost human.

As I get closer to the fence the brown dog now even with me seems to slow a bit, I think that it’s trying to figure out the best way for them to pull me down off the moving bike without injury to themselves. Getting from the street, over the curb and up to the sidewalk is going to be a challenge. I see some dead grass and leaves forming a bit of a ramp over the curb just ahead. It’s where the water flow has, over time, piled up leaves and dirt near the street drain.

 Placing the front wheel in the middle of the dirt and leaf ramp I fly up over the edge of the curb and onto the sidewalk barely slowing but nearly spilling as I do. It puts me closer to the fence and the pack veer to the left side away from the fence maybe thinking that they can pin me between it and them. Looking back again I can see the end of the fence at the corner is now maybe a couple hundred or so feet behind me. To the front it ends at the side of the house which is approaching way to fast. There is a closed gate next to the house for what little good that will do me in this situation. If I tried to stop, jump off the bike and open the gate the dogs would have me before I could ever clear it.

            The brown dog is now ahead of me again running while looking over at me; he’s not even panting and I swear he looks like he’s smiling. Any second he is going to turn and force me to crash. Looking right and down beside me there are no dogs just the small strip of what use to be grass between the fence and the sidewalk I am now on, the dogs are along my left and behind me with the brown dog in front again, boxing me in. Nearly at the house and my last chance to live, I think it is now or never.

            So I did what I had hoped that I could do in that half formed plan when I first saw the fence. Pulling my right leg up and slamming it down on the center bike bar I pushed with all the adrenalin fueled fear that I had and jumped as the bike slammed into the fence sideways. Grabbing the top of the chain link and the bar I catapult over the top. My pant leg catches the top of the fence and for a second slows my travel over. I feel a sharp pain in my ankle as the fabric tares free but not before it causes me to turn in the air falling back first slamming hard to the ground. I slide a few feet on my back, the hard dry ground tearing at the back of my head pulling out hair; I finally come to rest. Somehow, I don’t know how, I did not ram any of the wires at the top of the fence through my hands, I did not even cut myself.

            I landed on my back so hard that the air blew out of me with a whoosh and for a few seconds I couldn’t get it back, my diaphragm fighting my need to breathe. I know that I looked like a fish out of water as I tried without success to pull air back into my lungs. I could see the dogs’ skidder way from the bike as it twisted and bounced off the fence hitting one of them on the ass causing it to cry out as the bike crashed to the ground and spun away, that’s the first sound I have heard from them thus far

            It only took them a moment to swing around and regroup then four of them rush the fence. Now they are growling as they hit it. Lying there less than three feet away stunned and gasping for air, the edges of my vision tinged black, I cannot get up. I can only watch as the pack repeatedly throw themselves at the seemingly thin wire barrier between us, now looking every bit like the killers in the movies. The fence bowing with each onslaught. One of the dogs tries to climb but is unable to get more than a few feet or so before he falls back.

            Finally getting some air back into my lungs I sit up and roll over on my hands and knees still sucking in air. On all fours I am looking at the lead dog and he is looking at me; we are only a couple feet apart now and on the same level. Nothing but some rusty steel wire between us. He’s not rushing or jumping at the fence, instead he’s standing off a bit just watching, just thinking or so it seems.

            As suddenly as the attack started it stops like a thrown switch and they all stop and stare at me as I stared at them. They’re quiet and part as the brown dog steps up between them to the fence. Without a sound, he sniffs the air. There is some kind of intelligence behind those brown eyes and I can feel that he IS thinking. He looks to his left and then right. He keeps looking right so sliding back on my haunches wiping my tear flooded eyes on the back of my dirty hand I look down the fence line in the same direction shaking my head to clear it.

            I think that the brown dog and I realized the same thing at the same time. The fence ends a little over a half a block away. It doesn’t go around the corner and box in the yard, its open to the side I am on. As one the dogs all turn and break into a distance eating lope towards the open end. At the same time I climb shakily to my feet and start a stumble run as best as I can towards the house, my vision still somewhat tunneled. Gasping for air I force my legs to carry me faster.

            There is a burning in my ankle each time my foot hits the ground as well as pain in my back. Still sucking air into my partially filled lungs I look down and see blood on my torn pants leg near my ankle. The top of the fence must have cut as it tore my pants leg.          

            The dogs are barking behind me, maybe in celebration. I know what they’re thinking, they’re thinking that they got me, it’s just a matter of time now. I can see it now, leg of Don, alongside a bit of wild grass followed by rusty water then a communal dick lick to clear the taste. What a treat!

As I get to the house I look behind me, the dogs are rounding the end of the fence. They remind me of greyhounds rounding the bend on a race track as they lean into the turn kicking up dirt and bits of dead grass, they don’t even break stride as they come around.

            Running full out now my back hurting with ever intake of breath, I round the corner of the house jumping up the two steps under the lean to roof and grab the door handle, it’s locked.

Goddamn shit!!! I yell as I turn and leap off the porch and continue to run around towards the other side of the house hoping to put more distance between me and the dogs. Maybe there is an open car or something that I can get into around there.

            I can hear the dogs behind me, their barks sound more joyous then angry. It won’t be but a few seconds and they will make dog chow out of me. As I round the next side of the house into the yard I throw a glance over my shoulder. The dogs are breaking around the far corner of the house without slowing. All of them intent on me. They’re coming five abreast around the house. I swear they all look happy.

            I look back in front of me just in time to not hit the tree in my path. To my utter amazement there is a ladder nailed to the tree. Looking up as I twist I see that there is a tree house some thirty feet up. Barely slowing I leap up grabbing the rungs, my momentum nearly causing me to lose my grip and fly off as my feet swing off the ground. I’m momentarily airborne as my body continues to travel in the direction I was running but somehow I manage to pull myself back to the tree without losing my grip on the ladder.

 I start climbing as fast as I can, pulling up with my arms as much as pushing with my legs in spite of the searing pain, animal fear of being lunch over riding the pain. I feel the tree shake and hear a grunt as a dog hits the trunk below me but I do not slow my climb, I am too close to safety to stop and gloat. Reaching for the next rung I just know that at any second one of them is going to grab my foot and pull me back down, that I will feel those awful teeth push through my skin. One of the rungs breaks under my foot as I put my weight on it but I have a firm grip on the ones above me so without slowing I keep going.

            Reaching up with one hand I push open the trap door in the floor of the treehouse. It bangs back throwing up a cloud of dust as I grab the sides of the small opening and heave myself into the square space, spinning around I throw my back against the wall causing a renewed burst of pain. Looking down through the trap hole I see of the darker colored dogs with white spots is slowly getting to its feet and shaking its head. It must be the one that hit the tree trying to reach me. I can’t help but smile at its apparent pain.

            Two of the other dogs are jumping up on the tree and snapping up at me. The brown dog is just standing there apart from the group looking at me. Reaching over I grab the trap door and slam it down blowing more dust into the air. Coughing, my back clutching painfully with each deep breath, I crawl over to one of the small glassless windows cut into the wall and stick my head out looking down. 

            Two of the dogs are now sitting near the base of the tree looking up while the others moving about its base. I stick my head further out and yell at them. My voice breaks at first but I keep yelling. Fuck you I scream, fuck you, fuck you, and fuck all of you! You are not eating me today! Leaning back inside with a racking cough I look around at this safe place which is now my prison, while holding my sides with pain. Maybe I broke a rib when I hit the ground was my thought. Each time that I screamed my throat feels tight and my voice hoarse. 

 

 

Chapter 9

 

            The celling is low so I can’t stand up in here but there is enough room to kneel without banging my head, it must have been built for a small child. There’s a seat, more like a bench really along one wall, a window on each side, the trap door and one small shelf on which sits a small dirty naked blonde headed doll, its arms outstretched as if to say, Welcome to my home! On the floor is a piece of faded blue rug that dust puffs up each time I move on it.

Checking my ankle for damage I am delighted to find that it’s just a scratch and has stopped bleeding already. I can stretch out fully from corner to corner in here, it’s not comfortable but at least I can lie down.

            It’s hot but not as bad as it could be if the sun were hitting the house fully. The square of sunlight on the floor is about half way across the space, it is warm on my legs. I can hear the dogs shuffling around below as I finally get my breathing back to normal and the shakes from the adrenalin rush have finally subsided. All of a sudden I have to piss in the worst way. I did before but in all the excitement I kind of forgot. Opening the trap I open my zipper and holding myself I wait. This is payback.

One of the dogs sees me and jumps up on the tree directly below, a low growl coming from it. Just what I was waiting for. I let go with a stream hitting him squarely in the face. Take that you son of a bitch I say causing the stream to go all over him. Finishing while watching the dog shaking and rubbing his face on the ground. Gently I close the trap back with a smile and lie back down. I dozed off lying there with arms across my chest watching the remains of a blue curtain slowly moving in the slight breeze.

When I awoke the sun square has become a rectangle and was almost all the way across the small room. I didn’t move but listened as hard as I could for the dogs, nothing. Slowly as to not make any noise I sat up and sliding over on my ass I leaned over to the window. Leaning close to the window without sticking my head out, I listened but I couldn’t hear them below. Leaning out wincing in pain from my back I scanned the area as far as I could see from this vantage point, nothing, no dogs. Rolling over to my hands and knees I moved over to the other side and looked from there. Again nothing.  

            I’d stopped wearing a watch many months ago when I finally figured out that I no longer was on time and that time had no bearing on my life any longer. There was no time for me, nothing but the rise and setting of the sun. I had no clock to punch, no meetings to attend. I had nothing but time on my hands and as it was when I was a small child time did not matter.

            I guess that a few hours had passed while I slept in that exhausted nap judging by the movement of the sun light square. Maybe the dogs got tired of waiting and left to find food elsewhere. Scooting back to the center by the trap I grabbed the handle and slowly lifted it a few inches so that I could see directly below me. No dogs rested in wait for me to descend the ladder.

            I am hungry and very thirsty but not ready to become lunch as yet. They may be hiding just out of sight waiting for me to give up, waiting for me to climb down. Closing the trap I shift and in the process nudged the bench. The top moves so I open it. There is a storage area below the bench seat and in it is a small rolled up blanket, some more girl’s toys and a water bottle.

            The bottle is half full, its label all but unreadable. Opening it I sniff it then drink it down. Holding the bottle upside down the opening still in my mouth I tap the bottle hoping to get the very last drops that are stuck to the sides. It’s more of a tease then refreshment but it’s wet and it does taste great. Pulling out the blanket I roll it tighter and lying back down put it under my head moving it around a bit so as to not press on the painful area where my hair was pulled out during the slide for freedom. I might as well sleep for a while longer. Hopefully by morning the dogs will be gone and I can get out of here.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 10

 

            By morning I was so stiff and sore that I couldn’t hardly climb down the ladder. It felt like there was a huge bruise on my back and head from where I hit the ground. I dreamt about Sharon again. This time she was just standing looking at me. Dressed in jeans and a white top, not wearing shoes. That’s all I remember, just that little snippet.

            Opening the trap I looked out, seeing no dogs I started down. I stopped about half way down the ladder and waited ready to scramble back up but no dogs. Hanging there mid-way down I looked around the tree, out across the yard and under the bushes but the dogs were gone. Slowly I climbed down stopping every few inches to listen and look.

At the base of the tree was the remains of the step that broke off when my foot hit it. Bending down I picked it up turning it over in my hands. It was marked deeply by teeth marks. One of the dogs must have taken its anger out on the wood when he couldn’t get me. There was also a strong smell of urine when I got to the ground. They have marked the tree before they left, maybe to cover my markings I thought smiling.

The scab on my ankle pulled as I walked to the house but did not break open and bleed. Reaching up I could feel a small scab on the back of my head. The area is tender. My hair is matted a bit with dried blood but it is no longer wet.

Going back to the house and the back door I lifted the mat looking for a key. Bending over causes a flash of pain both in my head and back making me freeze for a moment. I checked under the flower pots and sliding my fingers along I felt around the top frame of the door without success, no key anywhere, I guess that these people didn’t hide one out here.

As I left the porch I stubbed my foot on a rock in what is left of the garden causing another flash of pain when I jerked. The garden around the steps consisting mostly of dead plants sticking up in a star pattern. Walking away I made four or five steps before it dawned on me…. a rock… Rocks are not what you find around here. There is a zillion tons of sand but no rocks. Going back I lift the out of place hunk of quartz and find the key in what’s left of a plastic re-sealable bag. The bag nearly gone but the green and yellow strip at the top still visible.

            Breakfast consists of four ibuprofens with two bottles of water, two cans of baked beans and some peaches from a jar for dessert. I wander through the house while fishing the peaches out of the jar with a fork. The only sounds were my foot falls and the slight tink of the fork hitting the side of the glass jar.

Looking in this, checking in that, stopping at one point to look at pictures and drink down the peach juice, raising the jar in a salute to the family portrayed there on the wall. Thank you I tell them.

In the nightstand beside an unmade bed I found a hand gun, a small fully loaded .380 in a slightly worn nylon belt holster. I have not carried a gun since the third week after Wednesday. I figured that I had not heard anything on the radio, TV or the phone for weeks, had not seen or heard anyone then I probably didn’t need to carry, but after yesterday’s brush with the dogs I have changed my mind. Briefly as I held the gun I thought about trying to find a Taser so I wouldn’t have to kill any dogs but changed my mind again realizing you only got one shot with the Taser and this little gun has eight. Disabling a dog only makes it want to kill me more when it recovers. I love dogs, always have but I will not let that stop me from stopping them in their quest to have me for dinner.

Looking at the weapon I am reminded of a time not so long ago that I also held a gun in my hand but for a totally different reason. Shaking my head I push that memory back to its hiding place.           

            The holster fits nicely just above my right butt cheek under my belt and after a few minutes it felt comfortable enough for me to almost forget about it. I will have to find some ammunition and do some practice shooting, it has been years since I fired a gun.

            Leaving the jar with the fork in it on the nightstand I grabbed another bottle of water as I headed out through the kitchen. Going back the way I had ran the day before I walked to the gate. It opened easily as I headed out to see if the bike was salvageable. Looking to the left I see a small piece of denim cloth with a spot of blood on it stuck to the top of the fence. Reaching out I pull it off, look at it and then down at my pants leg. With a shake of my head I wad it up and throw it behind me on to the lawn.

Walking up to the bike it’s quite obvious that I would never ride that one again. The front wheel is bent nearly double from where I hit the fence, the tire’s all but ripped off. I will find another one I say to it sadly, I really like this bike.

 Kneeling down I remove the small pack with emergency supplies from the rack over the rear wheel and clipped it around my waist, making sure that the gun will still come out easily if I need it. With a sigh I turn and start the long walk home.

           

 

Chapter 11

Pre storm-

Slowly I did manage to shake the depression that I felt and for the most part pushed the loneliness to the back ground of my mind. I kept myself busy gathering supplies and setting up house. I found one empty along the beach, oh surprise... I know. I remember thinking what a life. A house on the beach, hot damn! I borrowed a four wheel drive truck to haul stuff in and made a home there in the sand.

For me at that time this was a dream come true. A beach house and no people. I put away my clothing and worked on a beautiful tan. When I had to go looking for some supplies or when I wanted to ride I would dress but the rest of the time, sans clothing.

            Most days I managed to stay busy enough to not have to think about what was missing. Fishing or laying in the sand tanning or just putzing around most days I could manage the feelings of loss. It took a lot of time to find all the food and water I would need. Time to find solar cell panels and remove them then transport all that stuff back to the beach house. I made use of the garage that belonged to the next place for most of my storage. I didn’t think they would mind. All in all it took months until I had everything right.

One day, I don’t remember how long it had been since Wednesday, I found myself sitting bare assed in the sand, my knees pulled up tight to my chest, holding a gun. I don’t remember how I got there nor how long I have been sitting there. Tears flowing freely as I grappled with the waves of overwhelming loss.

A friend once told me back in the divorce recovery days to take “baby steps” when trying to deal with loss. Right now I think I have fallen all the way back, losing all the ground I may have gained……or maybe, just maybe I have put so much stuff away that the storage place in my mind is over flowing now in the form of tears.

            I looked at the small gun, really looked at it. Turning it slowly in my hand. At the grips with their crosshatched pattern cut into the plastic. At the screws holding it together, the little red dotted lever that said safe/fire, dot pointed at fire. I looked at the front site and then down the black hole beneath it blinking away tears. Here’s the end of the pain I thought, I can stop this here and now, no more suffering, no more hiding from the pain of loss. Holding the gun loosely not really pointed at me but not really away I looked off to the setting sun.

            Is it going to hurt I wondered, will I feel anything? What if I do something wrong and only hurt myself, what if I have to lay here and slowly die bleeding into the beautiful white sand? Looking into the seemingly large black hole again I’m started at the screech of a nearby seagull and nearly pulled the trigger.

            I stood up then, heart pounding with the realization that I nearly shot myself before I was ready. I got up and walked to the water. I walked naked into the small swells, walked out until I was chest deep. Slowly being moved back and forth by the waves I again looked at the gun. Here’s better I was thinking, here even if I don’t do it right I will drown and the fish can have me. Better than lying in the sand while the birds pick at me. It’s funny in a strange way the things that you think about when you’re thinking about killing yourself. Taking a deep breath I raised my arm looking into that deep dark circle again and then pulling my arm back I threw it as far as I could. There is barely a ripple in the ocean’s surface as the weapon passed into the care of the water.       

            With the cooling water on my skin as a wave would grow, pass and the water would recede, it gave me a new strength to live. I never thought that there maybe someone else out there. I had already come to grips with that possibility as well as the off chance that someone would find me here. Something about standing in the water without the remnants of civilization covering me and the endless ocean in front of me I decided that I would live. Turning I walked back out of the water, up the beach and back to my house.

 

Journal-

 

 I think that at this point I am no longer going to try to reconstruct the past. It does not really matter anymore what happened or how I got here. What matters is what is going on now. I’m not going to write each day either. There’s just not that much going on to make note of it. Maybe one day someone will find this and read about me. Maybe they will wonder who I was. Maybe they will go through my home and touch my things forming a picture in their minds about my life. So much like I do now when I am in others homes.

 

 

Chapter 12

 

 

Today was about as normal as they get. Until this afternoon when I was out riding like I do most days now. The weather has been magnificent lately, warm, sunny and sometimes a shower. Today was no exception until I heard it.

            I had been out riding for a couple hours. I stopped and broke into a house to find some lunch. The house is or was either blue or gray with those windows that run from floor to almost the celling, the narrow ones. A very cool design with different levels to the roof. This house had a huge yard enclosed with a six foot high iron fence with fancy scroll work along the top. Every ten feet there was a large concrete square, a bit higher than the fence, these were used as the fence post.

             They were also topped with some fancy iron work. Painted the same color as the house originally, they were now also faded to a blue gray color. There was iron bars that covered the lower half of the windows with a repeat of the scroll work.

Although wild in some areas and dead in others the yard still looked good. This was one very expensive house in its day. Wind had kept most of the driveway cleared of leaves and although over grown the gardens along it still had that designed look about them. It was inviting and I could almost forget that so much time has passed since Wednesday. The double gate was open enough for me to push the bike through.  I found some meat in a can with a pull tab and stale crackers from a re-sealable bag in the pantry.

There was a bit of a hiss when I opened the can. It smelled good so I sliced it up onto a green patterned plate with a heavy silver knife. I found some mustard in packets and a red sports drink. Pulling out a can of fruit cocktail as well I politely closed the pantry door. Taking all of it I went out back to have lunch. I was sitting on the back veranda enjoying a full belly sipping on the drink when I heard a sound unlike I’ve heard in more than a year; probably closer to two years now. I heard a human voice….. Or thought I heard one.

            From time to time I have THOUGHT I heard someone but each and every time it has been the results of my over active imagination or the wind. Every time it happened I would freeze or run for cover, wait and when I did not hear it again I would move on. Assuming it was something other than what I thought and as yet I’ve not been wrong.

            There was one case way back when the sound, a voice, was a solar powered mp3 player. In that case the sun had moved enough in its seasonal rotation so that it hit the small solar panel on the lower part of the player. Powering up the device causing it to start up and I just happened to be close enough to hear it through the small speaker.

            Fear and anxiety filled me as I crept up on the source of that sound. I just knew that I had finally found someone but fear kept me from just running out waving my arms shouting... Here, here, I’m here. I crept around houses, over what use to be fences trying to find the source of the voice. The slight wind making the sound seem to come from different directions. When I got close enough to make out that it was singing I really got excited. A woman, I had found a woman….hot damn I am going to have a companion and maybe get laid!

Even in that joy I was very reluctant to run out, to show myself. When I got really close I slowly rounded the corner of the house I was hiding behind and traced the sound to an open window. Slowly lifting my head to peer in over the edge of the sill like some peeping tom hoping to not get caught. I looked over the sill hoping to see a lovely lady singing with the music but as it turned out it was just the player. I laughed myself silly as I walked around the house, kicked open the locked door and entering made my way to the back bedroom. Still giggling I picked up the player and threw it out the window into the weeds.

            This time was different. I really thought I heard my name called. Like a whiny drawn out sound. Ddddoooonnnnnnnnn……. I dropped my drink and jumped up backing quickly undercover of the porch roof, back against the house, pushing into the ivy growing there, pulling the pistol from its now well-worn holster. My blood ran cold at that sound. One, there are no people in my world to the best of my knowledge and two, my mind screeched… How does that person know your name?

 

           

Chapter 13

 

I stood frozen, unmoving, straining to hear, hoping that my dark clothing blended in with the ivy on the wall. Trying to figure out where the sound had originated from. Then my logical mind attempted to take over. Must have been the wind I thought. But there is no wind I countered. The air is still, then it must have been an animal to which I again countered, no animal’s mouth could have formed that sound.

            I didn’t want to move not knowing from which direction the sound had come. I waited, and waited and then waited some more, nothing. Nervous sweat trickling down my sides under my shirt. Moving forward I skirted the table where the remains of my lunch lay, inched around the chair taking great care to not bump anything nor make any sounds, all the while my head was on a swivel as I reach the edge of the porch. Again I froze, looking and listening.      

            The sounds and movement of birds in the trees and bushes, of a squirrel moving down a tree off to the side yard were all that I could see or hear. Slowly I examined each inch of the tree lined back yard, to the right and left of the house along my sight line. Still nothing.

            Knowing the fence that was out front wrapped all the way around the back yard as well I realized that nothing was coming at me before it climbed over that. That would give me time to run or kill if necessary I thought gripping the small gun tighter.

            After what was probably just a few minutes but felt like an hour I stepped off into the grass and made my way back to the front of the house, following the gun held out in front of me. Easing my way around the corner and behind the garden fir trees. Standing there in the shade and shadow of the trees I search down the street in both directions. Nothing moved and other than the birds and the soft wind I heard nothing else. After a few moments I eased over to my bike. Again I waited, watched and listened until my ears hurt. But the sound did not come again.

            I got back on the bike and made a roundabout way back to my house as quickly and quietly as I could, stopping from time to time hiding behind a car or building to check behind me. That was three days ago and I have not heard it again. I’m not sure what the hell it was but I know it spooked the shit out of me.

            The entry about the sound above was made about two weeks ago and although I didn’t hear the sound, or that sound again that day, I have now heard my name three more times. Each time it has been either very clearly stated, DON, or similar to the first time long and drawn out but very clear. I have not been back to that neighborhood where I heard it the first time. That doesn’t seem to matter. Sometimes it’s almost like I am a long way away and the voice, if I can call it that, seems like it’s carried on the wind. The other times it has been very clear and it seems to have a questioning lilt to it.

When I hear it and I’m in a place like my bed, where I know there is no one around me, it brings on a wave of gut clenching fear. This whole thing is beginning to really mess with my head. I have only been to the beach once since the first voice and although it seems weird I couldn’t strip down like normal. My whole life right now is one of tension. Constantly looking over my shoulder. My peaceful countdown to my passing is now one of vigilance and fear.

There is something else, something very strange that happened. I was sitting under the tree out front yesterday and I felt a sharp pain in my arm, just inside my elbow. It hurt, really hurt like I had been stung or stuck with something sharp. I grabbed my arm as I looked at it expecting to find a wasp or some other insect sticking me. The skin was smooth and unbroken. No insect rested there. As I watched a small spot of blood appeared on the skin. That was all, and as quickly as the pain came it passed. It did not return. I wiped the blood away with my thumb and it did not reoccur. There was no mark on the skin.

            I heard it again today about five minutes ago. I was just sitting down here with the laptop to make an entry about the lack of the voice or name calling. I had just checked the batteries and turned on this machine when my name was again called. I know this is going to sound really weird, but it’s a woman’s voice. I am sure of that now and I think I know who she is or at least who it sounds like.

The last two times that I have heard the sound I felt like it was my lady’s voice, Sharon’s voice. She’s calling me or so it seems. But that cannot be. As I sit here on my porch looking off towards the sun dipping towards the trees I am trying to come up with a reason I hear her. Or rather that I think I hear her.

            Am I finally starting to show cracks in my mental stability or something else?  I hardly leave my house anymore. Standing up from the table with the laptop on it the butt of the pistol catches on the chair causing it to twist and drop noisily. It causes me to start with fear. Looking around I see nothing. I start pacing from one end of the porch to the other. I have noticed that I am talking to myself more and more out loud now. Somehow reassured by the sound of my own voice.

            I’m having problems dealing with what is happening. I have been alone for so long, have not heard another human voice since the Tuesday before Wednesday other than the MP3 player.

            Now I am not only hearing a voice but it is Sharon’s voice I am sure. The last time I heard her I yelled back calling her name over and over. My voice is weak, lack of use most likely but I keep trying. There was no response, there hasn’t been any regardless of when or where I am when I hear her. Am I losing my damn mind?

            Packing up the computer I head in to eat. For the first time since I have been alone I close up and lock the house tight before I go to bed.

 Sounds that I have been used to or that were normal before now cause me to start, to tense up. I have jerked up in bed over and over at the slightest noise only to lie back realizing it is just the house or the wind. My normal “go right to sleep” is gone as I lie stiffly in the sweat drenched bed waiting for the next call.

When I do finally fall into a fitful sleep I am plagued with dreams. Not the pleasant ones like before but half seen shadows and light. Things moving around, things that I cannot identify. Sounds that are half heard and half understood.

 

 

Chapter 14

 

My eyes snap open and I sit up with a jerk. Looking around somewhat confused. In the dim light I see walls, a curtained window and partly opened door with light streaming in. Lifting my arm to wipe my eyes I am stopped by something attached to my right wrist. At the same time I hear voices, what sound like real voices.

Something moves beside me. Pulling back in fear and spinning my head to face whatever is coming at me I throw up my left arm to protect my face. I repeatedly jerk my other arm trying to dislodge what is holding me. Someone grabs my arms and at the same time I hear my name, DON…. STOP!

            Sharon’s face swims into focus leaning over me. She is holding my arm shouting, “Don hold still.. STOP FIGHTING!!! You’re pulling out the IV!” turning her head she yells “HELP ME, SOMEONE HELP ME!!

The door burst open and I swing my head towards the sound. Fear grips me, I am trapped, caught while I was asleep or trapped in this dream. The house was locked. I know I locked it…How..What?!

 Two women dressed in white rush in, one to each side of me. Part of my mind reels back. People... Women….Voices. Jerking my head back around I look up at Sharon. She is leaning over me, very close to my face. She is holding both of my arms leaning her weight on them. There are tears in her eyes. She is saying my name over and over. Telling me, “Be still… stop moving.. It’s ok, honey its ok! You’re back”

 

Chapter 15

 

Sharon is standing beside the bed dressed in jeans and a white top her shoes are sitting on the window sill behind her. Very Sharon, she hates shoes unless there’re really girly. She is telling me what’s happened. “After the lightning strike they found you lying on the ground twitching and jerking. Lightning had hit the tree next to you.

There wasn’t a mark on you but you weren’t breathing so one of the guys started CPR. They took turns until the ambulance arrived. They had to tube you for a while until you started to fight the tube and try to breathe on your own. They took it out then.”

Sitting down beside me she stops talking. I reached out to touch her and said, my voice still very husky, “I had the strangest dream.” “No doubt!” she said leaning back in the chair still holding my hand. “You yelled and cussed from time to time.” Laughing with a grin she said, “ at one point a few days ago you yelled “fuck you, fuck you and fuck all of you, you’re not eating me today, then you started to cough.”

The door opens and a man in a white lab coat strolls in. He’s wearing a stethoscope like a neck tie. Smiling he says “Good morning Sharon, how’s our boy this morning?” Not waiting for an answer he steps to the side of the bed and looks down at me. “So Mr. Franklin, how are you feeling?” reaching down he picks up a chart and opens it.

 Using a pen pulled from his pocket like a pointer he scans down the page tapping it from time to time. Looking to his name tag just above the pocket where the pen lived I read, Dr. Steven Abernathy MD., Below that, Rome Regional Hospital Staff.

“Not bad considering that I was dead for a little while.” I tried to smile. “I feel like someone that has been eaten by a bear and then shit off a cliff.” Reaching up to touch a tender spot on my cheek where Sharon said tape holding the tube had ripped skin. “My back and the back of my head are really tender but otherwise I’m ok.”

“Your back and head were injured when you hit the ground. Witnesses said that you flew up into the air when the tree was hit then slammed down, landing on your back then skidding a few feet. There is some hair missing where it was burnt. There’s no permeant damage but you will be sore for a while.” Setting the chart down and pointing at me with the pen.

“You sir, are a very lucky man.” Putting the pen back in the vest pocket with a flourish he looks to Sharon then back to me. “I will sign your discharge papers tomorrow depending on some test and how you feel. A nurse will be in shortly to remove that IV. I will see you in the morning

Turning and striding over to the door he pulls it open and starts through. Stopping and turning his head back he looks at us. “Good luck you two, I would recommend that you stay away from trees when it’s storming.”

As the door closes with a slight hiss I look over to Sharon. “That sounds like a plan!” Taking a breath I reach and take her hand again. “Sharon,” I say looking into her eyes. “Would you go walking in the woods with me and perhaps go swimming?”