The Beginning at the End of the World: A Post-Apocalyptic, Dystopian Series (The Survivor Diaries Book 2) (15 page)

The snow was coming down steadily this morning. I am leery of the weather conditions, and certainly hope that it does not continue for long; however, the Council has discussed this and we will go, snow, rain, or the much more unlikely scenario of shine.

The planning stage of our journey continued today. Something that I have been concerned about is fuel for all of our vehicles. We are going to need a whole lot of it to get ourselves out there. Ammie has worked the numbers, and we should make it there with all of our vehicles, with gas to spare, using Jackson’s tanker which holds almost 10,000 gallons of gas. I guess that’s minus the amount Jackson has used to power his little operation.

Adam has chosen two members of his Out-bound team to retrieve the gas tanker in Salinas; the one he told us he had hidden away. Courtney and Gary will get the tanker and take a route to the Grade that will take roughly the same amount of time to get there as we will. They have a ham radio, and we will keep in contact with them from the RV that will house a small communications center.

I must admit that Adam, Bri and Ammie have been godsends when it comes to the transportation and planning of the on-the-road aspect of this trip. Because there is no longer a “Carmel Valley Road,” which was the main artery from the Valley to the Monterey Peninsula, we will be going on a route that Adam and other travelers have blazed.

Getting an oil tanker through the forested hillside is going to be huge challenge. Mark is working on a plan to cut down trees when need be. It entails the strength and perseverance of many of the able-bodied people in the Village, several chain saws, a tow truck, and the tractor that will be pulled along by one of the trucks.

For anyone wondering, this is no vacation we are planning for.

The good news is that we have all of the sleeping arrangements made. Annie, Charlotte and Billy will all sleep in RVs. That was one of my first priorities, as they are now the oldest Villagers. Mark and I will be in a tent with Bailey, Ammie and the dog. Hershey is the only pet in the Village, and he now belongs to everyone. No one would even think to leave him behind. All life is too precious now.

There are bathrooms and showers in all of the RVs, so we should be able to keep up some hygiene practices.

We have decided to use the biggest tent for meetings and social gatherings. We will need to extend it using some of our white tarps so we will all fit. I am hoping that this will help with morale.

Now, I must make a confession. I have never even been camping before. And now I will be camping for weeks in bitter cold conditions.

I have trepidations about this whole trip. Mark told me that he does not expect everyone to make it to our final destination alive. I think he told me this to prepare me, but it must not come to pass. We are down to so few Villagers now. It would be devastating to lose even one more person.

I feel that we have made some progress in our planning, but there is so much more left to do.

I have been wondering one thing; will Jackson and his trio have our backs in emergencies? I wish I could answer this with some certainty.

Today was Curtis Owens’ big entrance into our community. What a farce.

He came to our gates about eight thirty in the morning, perfect timing for everyone to be up and working. Wow, it was almost as if he had some inside information.

I was in my curtain lined office when I got the call that someone was at the wall, asking for refuge— feign surprise.

Mark came to escort me there, and we opened our gates to the “stranger” claiming to have made it to us from Boise, Idaho. They changed his story up a bit, maybe to make it look like Mark and I were more surprised, or maybe it just made more sense given the proximity of Idaho was closer to California than Montana. Who knows? Why am I wasting my time trying to figure it out?

Owens looked so different in his dirty jeans and ripped parka. He looked like one of
us
, actually. I wondered how they had made his hair so greasy. Maybe they put some olive oil in it. Somehow, he even looked thinner out of his uniform. They probably put him in clothes that were two sizes too big for him. Ugh, there I go obsessing about it again. Whatever they did, he looked the part.

Samantha, Carrie and Tabitha were all nearby, so I introduced our newest refugee to them. They had no reason to question the validity of his story and welcomed him full-heartedly. Tabitha even pulled me aside to tell me how cute he was. Everything in me wanted to warn her, tell her that he was a liar and could not be trusted, but the Council had made its decision.

I couldn’t go against their vote, could I?

Doc Malcolm gave Owens a thorough checkup, and he went into quarantine for several days. I hoped that no one noticed that it was one day earlier than most when he got out of the Hotel, because if they did, I would have to be the one to make up a lie for it. I am a terrible liar.

During our supper that evening, everyone gathered around to hear the harrowing story of how this poor, lone soul trekked across the broken landscape by car and then motorcycle, to finally come to our walls.

I wanted to scream that his man had probably been the only one of us to start his morning off with a hot shower and a large, hot breakfast every day since the war. What a con artist.

Jackson sat back, and he just observed as the Villagers asked questions that Owens could not possibly know the answers to, right? Or, maybe the military had contacts across the country. All I could do was to speculate.

I noticed Tabitha was dressed nicely, and she was wearing make-up; not her usual MO.

“Did you find other groups like us out there?” asked Tabitha, practically drooling.

“Actually, there are,” said Owens, deceitfully or not. “Some are like you, getting by pretty well. Others are struggling. Many of the groups told me that their numbers have dropped a lot because of starvation and disease.”

“We have lost a lot here, too,” said Tabitha. “I am a physician’s assistant here in the Village. That’s what we call our group of survivors, ‘Villagers.’ Kinda lame, I know.”

My anger was growing, but I kept myself in check, sitting next to my husband and sending Jackson an occasional unpleasant glance when no one was looking.

“How did you make it through all of that?” I asked. “It seems like you would have died from the virus that’s seething in the debris, being out there, all by yourself.” My venom came out of my mouth before I could stop it. Tabitha shot me a questioning look. I shrugged my shoulders at her in reply.

“I don’t really know,” said Owens. “Just lucky, I guess.”

It was a good enough answer, and it satisfied the crowd who were concerned about their own impending journey. Perhaps they took courage in the fact that he had made it out there, in the thick of it.

By the time we all finished dinner, Owens had won over everyone within hearing distance of his voice.

Their plan worked perfectly. Owens was happily accepted into our group.

Today, my family and I finished our preparations for leaving the Village so we wouldn’t have to work on Christmas Day. We had moved everything into the foyer so that it could be moved as soon as the truck came the day after we celebrate. I can’t believe tomorrow is Christmas. We have been so busy and it came so quickly. It was really important that I make it as special as I could for Bailey Bug. This is the first one without her mother and father.

Before Bailey went to bed, she asked me if Santa had died in the Last War. This one was very tricky, so I used the old standby. “Bailey,” I said. “Santa is alive as long as he lives in our hearts.”

She looked skeptical. I don’t blame her.

I read to her from a few of Bri and Ammie’s old Christmas stories. She particularly enjoyed
Madeline’s Christmas.
It made me sad when I realized that she, Bri and Ammie would never see Paris like I had when Annie escorted me on the most amazing trip through Europe as a gift for my college graduation. They wouldn’t have a college graduation either, at least not that I could foretell.

We put out some cookies and powdered milk for Santa Claus, and I tucked an excited girl into bed. It is funny how kids were still just kids in their hearts, even after all that has happened.

We found a beautiful pink Barbie bicycle for Bailey, and Adam said that he would make sure that it is placed on one of the bike racks on the back of an RV. I had also found dolls, books and clothes for her that we would bring in our personal belongings for the trip.

∞

We sat in front of the fire, just Bri, Ammie, Adam, Annie, Jake, Mark and I. We had so many Christmas Eves in front of that very fireplace, but it didn’t feel the same. We knew that this would be the end of the life that we had in Monterey. The room felt heavy around us.

“Hey, I’ll arm wrestle anyone for Santa’s milk and cookies,” said Bri, breaking the tension.

“Ha, I will beat your ass,” said Ammie with a huge smile.

“My money is on Ammie,” said Jake. “She might be small, but she is scrappy.”

We all laughed and rooted them on. Bri, who really wasn’t much bigger than Ammie, had her down in seconds.

“Okay,” I said. “Enough. We can’t sit around here crying about leaving. We have had time to adjust, so let’s just have one last great memory here.” I said it as much for myself as anyone else.

“You are right, sis,” agreed Jake. “Let’s do something.”

“I’ve got it,” I said. I grabbed the walkie and brought it into the bedroom so no one could hear me.

Within twenty minutes, Jill and Holly showed up at our front door. Jill was carrying all of the makings for Hot Toddies, and Annie put on the tea kettle for hot water.

Mrs. Ingram came out of her room after hearing all of the revelry. We convinced her to stay and celebrate with us. And celebrate we did. Annie found enough food to make us a smorgasbord, and Mark got on the walkie to tell everyone who felt like a Christmas Eve party to get themselves over to our place as soon as they could.

Before we knew it, we had about forty people in our living room. I guess we weren’t the only ones needing a pick-me-up tonight.

Everyone brought all of the food and alcohol they could spare, and before we knew it we had a full blown party on our hands.

And those were the happiest moments we have had since the war.

Jackson brought Owens, who was staying with him until we left. Owens mingled like an old pro; maybe too well for someone who had presumably just finished the horrific journey he had told everyone about. But our guests were having such a good time they didn’t notice.

“Check this out,” said Samantha. She held up some old, plastic holly that we had out as a decoration, and, with Mark’s help, hung it from the ceiling. She grabbed her wife, Carrie, and ducked her into a kiss under the quasi-mistletoe.

Mark grabbed me for a big kiss, and others lined up to do the same with their loved ones. Billy kissed Annie, who blushed deeply.

Bailey came into the living room, her eyes wide. “Is Santa here?” she asked with a yawn.

“Not yet, Bailey Bug,” said Ammie. “But do you want to come and join the party?”

Bailey took her hand excitedly and pulled her into the middle of the merriment. Hershey went rushing after them, basking in all of the attention from our guests.

Jackson, who contributed several six packs to the festivities, leaned against a door jamb wearing street clothes, bottle in hand. He smiled and lifted the bottle in my direction. I smiled and returned the toast with my glass of Hot Toddy; a cease fire for the occasion.

Samantha brought a karaoke machine with her, and we made our own entertainment. I was flabbergasted when Jackson sang Jon Bon Jovi’s,
Blaze of Glory
. He actually had a pretty good singing voice. When I concentrated on the lyrics, it made me a little nervous about how he was imagining our upcoming trip. “Staring down a bullet let me make my final stand.”

Maybe it should be the theme song for the journey ahead. Is he Billy the Kid or am I?

The rest of the songs were more upbeat. Adam and Mark’s rendition of
It’s Raining Men
brought the house down. I considered singing
I Will Survive,
but I saved everyone the agony of listening to my voice.

I looked around at all of my friends who were joyfully celebrating the night, and I realized something. These weren’t just fellow survivors, or even just Villagers; this was my family. And these people were far more important than the wood, stone, brick and mortar of where we dwelled.

Just like that, I wasn’t heartbroken to leave anymore because I wasn’t leaving my home; I was bringing it with me.

And the night felt right, as we made our final memories in our happy home.

Bailey woke everyone early. My head was still thumping from last night. I am not used to drinking like that.

Bailey’s face was priceless when she saw her bike and the rest of her gifts. The adults had decided not to give each other anything, as there was little room in our bags for much more.

The only exception to that rule was for Mrs. Ingram.

Bailey, who had a smile from ear to ear, handed Mrs. Ingram one carefully wrapped gift (and yes, we had some left over wrapping paper from last year’s Christmas).

She opened it, and her eyes immediately filled with tears. It was a framed picture of the whole family, with her, sitting in her wheelchair, in front of the old Town Hall. She held it to her chest, as if she could absorb our love through the photograph.

Annie miraculously had saved enough flour to make us a pancake breakfast. We all savored every syrup-less, butter-less bite.

Even more miraculously, there was no sadness about our plight now.

Even Mrs. Ingram was happy. She seemed to be at peace that this would be her final Christmas.

∞

So many people stopped by today to deliver warm wishes and other goodies. We all knew that we couldn’t take much with us, so they brought us everything from wine, to soda, to homemade crocheted scarves. Perhaps the best offering came from Charlotte Copeland. She brought us a pineapple minus the top greens. I couldn’t believe it.

“This one was ready to eat, so I cut off the top so that we can grow more,” Charlotte told us.

“How did you grow this,” asked a bewildered Mark. “Monterey has never had the climate for growing that kind of fruit has it?”

“I have been growing them in my greenhouse here for years,” she explained. “You twist or cut the crown off of a ripe pineapple, and let it sit a couple of days. Then, you plant it in a pot of soil with good fertilizer. Mist it with water every day. It’s not really that hard once you get the hang of it. I have been doing similar things with table scraps for years. I have mushrooms, carrots, ginger and avocados, too. We are going to bring almost all of my fruits and veggies with us on the beds of the trucks. Thomas has covered them with the plastic and glass that we farmed from some of my greenhouses. We will be heating the raised bed platforms from the truck engines. Pretty clever, huh?”

“Clever doesn’t even begin to cover it,” I said. “I would have never guessed this was possible. How could we have been so wasteful before? Thank you, Charlotte, for everything. Your work is helping to give us hope that our children will live to be our age. How do I begin to repay that gift?”

“Heavens, girl,” she replied. “I wish I had done more before the war, too. But that doesn’t matter now, does it? You enjoy this bit of the Islands, and I will see you all tomorrow. Merry Christmas and much love everyone.” She waved and left us to our delicious pineapple.

I only took a few bites and let Bailey eat the rest of my share. All of the other adults did the same. Ammie explained that Bailey’s growing body needed the vitamin C, vitamin B1, vitamin B6, dietary fiber and folate more than ours. Our little girl ate pineapple until the juices ran down her face.

“Pineapple is my favorite now,” she proclaimed.

The best gift was that we will have more and more fruits and vegetables for our future if we are careful not to take what we do have for granted.

Thank you, Charlotte.

Annie took down the tree and packed up the decorations at the end of the day. We all pitched in and started organizing for the trip while Bailey happily played with her new toys.