A New World: Chaos (4 page)

“Dad?
 
Was that you?”
 
He answers in a whisper.

“Yeah,” I whisper back, “I’m inside.
 
Is the basement door the one by the kitchen?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok.
 
You and the girls come up the stairs as quiet as you can, and I mean quiet.
 
Open the door slowly.
 
I’ll be almost right in front of you.
 
Don’t just run out.
 
Wait for me to wave you out.
 
Then all of you come out and head right out the front door.”

“Ok, Dad.
 
We’re moving now.
 
Shouldn’t we stay on the line until we get to the door?”

“Good idea,” I breathe back to him.

I hear sound coming from the basement door as the knob is slowly turned.
 
The door creaks as it is pushed out a crack.
 
There, through the crack in the door, I see my son’s eyes peeking out.
 
He looks around taking in his surroundings to the extent he can see them.
 
His eyes lock on mine.
 
The sounds of movement and panting increases from upstairs but are changed to some degree.
 
I swear footsteps are coming down the stairs only to stop and run back up.
 
Whatever is there emits a growl each time it stops.
 
There is an almost physical feeling of agitation in the air.
 
I almost want it to come all of the way down the stairs just to end this tension one way or the other.

Looking over to Robert, I wave him over.
 
He opens the door; the hinges once again protesting their movement.
 
The growling increases and the panting seems even louder making me want to look behind me as it feels like this thing is right next to me.
 
I hang up the phone and grab the flashlight.
 
Robert steps into the kitchen with Nic and Bri right behind him.
 
The sounds of feet running up and down the stairs increase.
 
The rise in agitation is obvious.

Swinging the front door wide open, I yell firmly, “Out!
 
Out now!”
 
Whispering is moot at this point.
 
Without pause, they run right behind me and out the front door.
 
As they pass by, I tell them, “Get to the Jeep!”

I back out of the room onto the front porch stowing the flashlight and take another look around to ensure we are alone.
 
We appear to be.
 
It seems safe enough for now but I wonder how long that will last.
 
I am thinking we have just been moved down the food chain a notch and entering the survival-based food chain ourselves.

I walk to the front window to retrieve the shotgun.
 
The sounds of agitation still reach out to my ears but I don’t see anything.
 
I turn and walk down the porch stairs holstering my handgun.
 
Batteries
, I think turning off the flashlight attached to the shotgun.
 
That and so much more to think about in the very near future.
 
Food, water, safety,
Lynn
, future
.

With a heavy sigh, I walk over to my kids standing at the front of the Jeep, hand Robert the shotgun, and give them all the biggest hugs I have ever given.
 
And that is saying something because I have given some pretty big hugs before.
 
“I love you all so much,” I say into their ears.
 
Well, not quite like that.
 
Nic and Bri are both coming on par with me for height, and, well, to say anything into Robert’s ear, I have to tilt my head up.

“I love you too, Dad,” they all reply.

We step back from each other; Bri is there in her plaid blue flannel jam bottoms and an Abercrombie t-shirt.
 
Her fine, golden hair hangs down close to the middle of her back and her blue eyes stare back at me.
 
She doesn’t have to tilt her head far back as this year has given her quite the growth spurt.
 
She has reached the five foot mark recently.

Nicole’s thick, dark hair hangs down to her shoulder and her plain green jams accentuate her hazel eyes.
 
Robert holds the shotgun and is wearing blue jeans with his black Navy JROTC sweatshirt.
 
His close-cropped hair has turned a darker shade of blond over the years but his eyes retain that same blue intensity.
 
The thought crosses my mind, as it sometimes does, of how neither Bri nor Robert has my dark hair or my hazel eyes.
 
Ok, perhaps my hair is not so dark anymore.
 
The years have replaced some of the black with gray.
 
I like to keep my hair short and the barber I go to has a peculiar knack of only cutting the dark hairs.
 
I have heard the word distinguished used but I am sure it is only them being courteous.

Nic has her flips on but Robert and Bri are barefoot. I consider going back in to gather some of their clothes from the pile I saw on the couch but I have some at my house and we can gather other clothes for them later.
 
Right now, I want to head back, try to wrap my mind around what has happened, and start putting a plan together for the future.

“Okay guys, into the Jeep,” I tell them.
 
They all climb in with Nic and Bri in the back and Robert in front.
 
Robert has the barrel of the shotgun pointed toward the floor between his feet.
 
Good job
.
 
My hand shakes from post adrenaline as I put the Jeep in gear.

We start the drive back home, retracing my previous route.
 
There is only the wind as it whips against the soft top of the Jeep and our minds are all working through the situation in which we find ourselves.
 
Kind of numb and working furiously at the same time.
 
In my peripheral, I see Robert looking around us at the total lack of people.
  
Through the rear view, I see Bri doing the same thing while Nic is staring at her hands folded in her lap.

“Dad?”
 
 
Bri says from the back.

“Yes, hon,” I say wondering what question is coming and worried about it at the same time.
 
I am not sure where her mind has ventured but her question should ascertain that for me.
 
Like I said, her mind is always working.
 
So does Nicole’s and Robert’s but they are more silent and contemplative.

“Was that Mom?
 
I mean, in the house?
 
Making that noise?”

Sighing heavily, I answer, “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

I pretty much know the answer given the fact that the front door was sealed and locked from the inside but I don’t know for sure.
 
One of the windows upstairs did seem to have been broken, but honestly, my answer came more from a dad-protective place.
 
Robert gives me a sideways glance from the passenger seat but says nothing.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?
 
I mean, will she get better do you think?”
 
Her questions say that she already knows the possibility of who it was.

“I don’t know, hon.
 
I just don’t know.”

“Should we go back and see if we can help her?”

“No, Bri, I’m not sure what we could do.”

A tear forms in her eye.
 
She turns to the window once more as the tear slowly trails down her cheek.
 
Silence once more descends as I drive along the mostly empty highway.
 
My thought turns to Lynn hoping she is okay.
 
I don’t think even the sands of
Kuwait
would be spared from the kind of pandemic we are looking at.
 
I mean, the military ensures that its members get the vaccines first and, if memory serves me right, requires flu vaccines for everyone, so this must have erupted everywhere.

We both enjoy zombie books and the genre in general.
 
Well, she actually introduced me to it but I became taken with it.
 
We would cover scenarios, stories, and ‘how-to’s’ in case such an event happened.
 
Not seriously thinking anything would actually happen, just an amusement between us with what we would do.
 
We were more interested in applying our survival skills than seriously thinking it could happen.
 
We had both had to apply survival skills a lot in our military careers so that was a natural progression for us to take.
 
We had an agreement in our stories that I would fly to pick her up.
 
Now, I feel unsure as to what to do.
 
What if she is okay and waiting?
 
Should I follow through with what we talked about even though it was more play acting than reality?
 
My heart is sick with worry as I truly love this woman.

I stare out of the windshield at the sun shining on the trees, grass, and houses as we pass.
 
Should I do what we agreed even though we were only telling a story?
  
Is she is okay?
 
Should I just focus on creating a safe environment here for my kids?
 
I haven’t had any contact with Lynn for the past two days.
 
She hasn’t been online and no phone calls either.
 
I called and left a message but have not heard anything back.
 
No great revelation comes.
 
No light bulb suddenly flares in my mind.
 
With the kids looking out of the windows, the trees just continue to pass, unaware of our situation and without a care to my quandary.

Both thoughts and questions continue to rattle back and forth.
 
The movie drive-in passes by on our left with “CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE” on the sign board.
 
Oh, the fun times the kids and I had there on summer nights.
 
Bri always wanting to watch from the back of the pickup and me wanting to be inside because I couldn’t hear the speakers very well.
 
Her falling asleep during the second movie and me having to wake her when we arrived back home.
 
Both her and Nic just appreciating our being together; loving the moment more than the event.
 
Or the times where it was just Robert and I.
 
Popcorn, drinks, and a multitude of snacks from the service station nearby.
 
“300” on the screen in front and us proclaiming this was the best movie ever.
 
Those times are over now and this is just one of the many changes that have occurred in this new world we find ourselves in.

Turning off the highway towards home, my heart is light, because my kids are safely with me, but heavy with thoughts of Lynn.
 
My stomach is in knots when a decision clicks into place.
 
I have to find her.
 
I have to go to Kuwait.
 
The guilt and shame of not trying would be too much.
 
I love Lynn and can’t, no won’t, do anything less.
 
My decision is made, as if there were truly any other. My thoughts turn to the when and how.

Pulling into the driveway, I turn off the engine, and we climb out of the Jeep.
 
Carrying the shotgun, Robert gingerly steps across the gravel and walks toward my little cottage.
 
Nic and Bri are right behind.
 
Normally, my little Bri would be making a little noise about walking on the gravel barefoot, but neither an utterance nor word comes out.

“No, we are going into Mom’s house,” I tell Robert and he switches direction in mid-stride to the front porch.

The front door opens and Mom steps out onto the porch.
 
“Thank goodness you are alright,” she says in a sigh-like voice and comes forward to give them all hugs.

We walk into the house, a little darker now than when I left but the window shades are open giving a little light.
 
“I see the power has gone out,” I mention as I walk through the kitchen that opens from the entry way.

“Happened right after you left.”

The kitchen opens into a sitting room ahead with a mostly glass door that lets in quite a bit of light and leads to a small deck outside.
 
Her computer desk sits against a half wall to the left and ceiling-high bookcases fill the right wall.
 
Turning left out of the kitchen, the living room is illuminated by only two windows set into the far wall along the right and is therefore a little dark.
 
A wood stove sits in an alcove in the middle of the wall between the windows.
 
Her white couch sits against the half wall and two reclining chairs rest on the other side of her large, Persian-style rug.