The Beginning at the End of the World: A Post-Apocalyptic, Dystopian Series (The Survivor Diaries Book 2) (16 page)

This morning we were ready when the trucks came for our sixteen-gallon plastic tub filled with our memories. We each would have a suitcase for our essentials for the trip. For our family of eight, we were able to pack most everything fairly easily. We even had room for Bailey’s toys and Ammie’s text books.

Things were moving at a brisk clip when Jackson came to pick up Mrs. Ingram to bring her to the hospital. She sat, looking so small and fragile in her wheelchair. Her bags were packed and ready to go.

“Can we take one last picture?” Mark asked. He handed the camera to Jackson, signaling that he would not be included in our photographic memories.

“Everyone, gather around Mrs. Ingram for a picture,” commanded Jackson. He was definitely grumpy today.

“We'll send messages to you on the ham radio,” I told Mrs. Ingram. “Maybe they will even bring you to the radio so that you can hear our voices.”

“Don’t forget what gets you through, Laura,” she advised me. “It is your inner strength. Use your intuition. It will always guide you to the right path.”

Ten hospital staff would stay behind with their patients. We made plans that, when the time was right, we would come back for them. That would only be when their patients were either well enough to travel or when they were dead. Sadly, the latter seemed the more probable scenario.

We said our good-byes, and it was painfully hard. Mrs. Ingram shed tears and offered us well wishes for our journey. I wondered if she was fearful of us making it over the perils of the snowy and jagged hillsides we would be traveling through or if it was something more that made her so sad.

I didn’t want to believe that would be the last we ever saw of Mrs. Ingram, but in my heart I felt it. It was nearing the end for the elderly woman who had survived the end of the world.

∞

After Mrs. Ingram departed, we really started moving on our plans. Still, the sadness stayed with us throughout the day.

We toiled through meeting after meeting to make sure that everything was organized and settled.

It seemed like everyone in the Village needed to speak with me, urgently. Most of the questions had already been covered, but I suspected that everybody was just nervous and looking for reassurance. I took on that role with patience and compassion because I really did understand. I wish there was someone for me to go to for comfort, but I was the leader. I had to find my path, as Mrs. Ingram had counselled.

The greatest fear that kept circling my mind was,
if we lost any Villagers, it would be on my watch.

∞

The only Villager who didn’t want to come to me for support was the one I needed to meet with the most. I dreaded calling for him, but he carried the ability to bring us all down with his preaching of the scriptures as
he
saw them, so I had no choice.

“Good afternoon,” I said to Steven. He walked into my office, and I gestured to the seat in front of my desk. “I appreciate you coming.”

“Yeah, well … I am pretty busy getting ready.” He was obviously irritated by my request to meet with him.

“Yes, we all are,” I told him.

I probably sounded as put out as he did. There was no love lost between me and Rolette, but he is a Villager, and I am ethically bound to offer him everything that I am offering to all of the Villagers.

Who said that he is part of my ethical obligations? I did. He is a human being.

“I will get right to the point,” I said firmly, trying not to drop to his level. “You have made it very clear that you don’t approve of my leadership. That is why I was surprised to hear about your plans to come with us. Would you please tell me why you are coming?” In the old world, questions like that would have sounded too impolite.

“I am coming because God told me to find the Promise,” he said. “My Heavenly Father wants those of us who have survived it all to go to where we will be safe so that we can propagate. My seed will reseed the World.”

The thought of that made me cringe. “So, you want to go to Carmel Valley and have a family?” I asked, hoping to clarify his evangelizing prose.

“I will be a father,” he said. “Tiffany is carrying my child, and she also believes that this is what God wants of us.”

My mind went about the arithmetic. It couldn’t have been three weeks since her husband and children had died. Had they been together when her husband was still alive? So many questions were rattling around in my mind, all vying for top billing.

“So, you and Tiffany want to raise a family in the Valley?” was the question that made it to first place on the list.

“Yes, and any other woman who wishes to reseed the earth with my, ah, let’s say ‘virtues,’ ” he had the audacity to say.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Even from him this was very disturbing, or should I say because it was coming from him it was very disturbing? I needed to get him under some kind of control before we started the dangerous journey that lay ahead.

“Mr. Rolette, you may come with us,” I stated flatly. “But you have to abide by our rules. This is by order of the Council. As you must remember, the Villagers have voted, and the word of the Council is final.

“One of the Council’s rulings is that there is to be no recruiting of others to your beliefs. Now, I know you are a smart man and that you understand what I am talking about. We will give you and Tiffany time to worship whatever it is that you worship, but you are not to solicit anyone. And there are to be no secret meetings on any channels on the walkies or in person, at any time.

“Next, we are not bringing any of that crap you have been spewing about other people’s faiths with us. That includes Islam, Judaism, Hinduism and whatever else people believe. I don’t care if they worship rocks or the devil. Understand?”

I waited him out while he just stared at me. He finally nodded, and I continued.

“Our travels will be through a very rugged landscape, and you will be asked to leave our group if you create any problems during the trip. Of course, if something occurs, we will go through Council proceedings to decide what exactly will be done, but there is a very good possibility that you will be asked to leave us. I don’t want to do that to any of the Villagers, so this is your warning.

“Understand, Mr. Rolette, your hate speech has already made enough trouble. It’s not like it was before the war when high priced lawyers fought for ‘the right to freedom of speech’ with complete disregard to the spread of bigotry and hatred. That world ended itself.”

“I will take it under advisement with God and get back to you,” said a scarlet-faced Rolette.

“You should also take it up with Tiffany. After all, it impacts
her
life, too. If you show up at our four thirty call time ready to leave tomorrow morning, then we will know what decision you
both
have made. And if you don’t show, we will also know what you have chosen.”

I dismissed him for more important travel business.

∞

Later in the afternoon, I checked the vehicle lineup. Adam, Billy, Bri and Jackson were guiding the cars into position for inspection by the mechanic.

I videoed the long line of cars for the record. People have become so used to me with my camera that they don’t seem to notice it any more. Good, because it’s coming with us.

Bruce Lefebure had owned a garage before the end. He would be driving his tow truck, in addition to leading a team of people in charge of gassing the vehicles and general maintenance. Bruce was the only actual mechanic from before the war. We have about five men who loved cars and tinkered with their own, but Bruce will be in charge of the heavy lifting when it comes to all things cars.

“Bruce, it’s good to see you,” I said, offering my hand. He pulled me in for a hug. The others came over to deliver their reports, but Bruce was the man I really wanted to hear from.

“How is it coming along?” I asked.

“It’s going good,” he said. “We have done our inspection of all of the engines one last time.” He motioned to several men who were fiddling in the engines.

“Good,” I said. I looked over the long line of trucks and cars. “I am a bit worried about this set up. It looks precarious.”

I pointed to the moving truck with the tractor hitched on a trailer to the back of it. “What if it pulls too hard to one side and goes over the ledge?”

“Adam’s gonna be driving that one as carefully as he can,” said Bruce. “He knows the roads and trails, so that is the best we can do. I am driving the tow truck, which will be just before the tanker Colonel Jackson’s driving. If anyone goes off the path, I will do my best to take care of it. The good thing is that we have plenty of manpower.”

“And womanpower,” said Samantha pleasantly as she joined us. “Check this out, Laura.”

She waved me into one of the RVs where I found Annie setting up her kitchen. “Here is where we will be doing most of the cooking.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” said Mom. “Well, here is my new kitchen.”

Samantha continued. “On this crew we have Annie, Jessica, Kimberly and Aaron.”

Kimberly and Aaron Russell are our resident fire fighters, but have been doing some of our cooking, too. They are very good at making what we have go a long way.

With a quick “Bye, Mom,” and kiss on the check, I was directed to the next RV, where we were joined by Carrie. She has been my unofficial right hand since I had lost my second one to death. I have been a little too superstitious to make Carrie my new, official human resources and Village-record keeper, but she was doing the job without the need for a title.

Carrie took over the tour of the vehicles. “RV number two will be our Communications Center. Samantha will be working this station, rotating duties with Emma, Jamie and Reverend John. None of them are experts on the ham, but they are figuring it out.

“This is your office, too. We thought that keeping you near the inner-village walkie communications would be best.”

I had fought to be in the truck that Mark was driving, but those organizing the RVs had made a good case for me to be in one of them. They won.

There was a small table with my laptop, noise canceling headphones and files already in place. Since I have taken on this job, this is my third “office.” They have been getting progressively smaller and less private, but I was still lucky to have one.

“RV number three will be for classes,” said Carrie. “As you requested, we will be keeping the instructors in that RV with their primary students so that they can brainstorm and pool their expertise to make plans for our future in the Valley; like a think-tank.

“Bruce, Thomas and Billy have rigged it so all of the cars will play the broadcasts over their radios. Pretty cool, huh?” Carrie said.

“Friggin’ awesome,” I told her.

During our initial planning, we decided that all of the classes will be broadcast so that drivers will have an opportunity to participate, too. I am also hoping that the constant talking will help to keep them awake since most of the vehicles will be manned by only one driver with no passengers to chat with.

The last RV, number four, was set up for the children. They took out as much of the furniture as possible for the children to have some room to move around. It would be difficult, but hopefully the schooling, games, and DVDs would keep them occupied.

Security will be doing most of the driving, but I fear that they will get tired. After all, none of the Villagers were truckers in their old lives. I have asked that we do an hourly walkie check-in by vehicle number. Every two hours we will stop for breaks, and we will not travel at all on Sundays, as Katie suggested. I know this will cost us time and fuel, but we need to keep everyone’s morale, health and emotional well-being at an optimal level.

We are as ready as we ever will be. Tomorrow we become nomads.

I barely slept last night. My mind was on all that could go wrong and how to prevent it.

We already had all of our bags and necessities in place, so it was only a matter of getting everyone situated in their transports.

At four o’clock in the morning, my family was waiting by the front door. Only Annie looked really sad. She was leaving what had taken her a lifetime to build. I understood.

“Mom, I’m sorry. It is going to be alright, though. We are together,” I told Annie.

As we walked out the door, it felt monumental all of a sudden, but I wasn’t sad. My family was alive and with me. That’s all that mattered.

∞

Everyone had been so prepared, and even bombarded with information on our looming travels, that loading into the correct vehicles went smoothly. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Everyone was onboard with our plans.

I was surprised when I saw Tiffany and Steven get into their trucks. They were separated out of necessity, like most of our families. They had no grounds to complain, but neither of them looked happy.

Mark and I helped Bailey into the “school RV” and tried to make her comfortable. We rested her on the mat on the floor, partially propped against a RV wall to hold her small, sleepy head in place. I placed her doll at her side.

Chandra, now seventeen years old, was doing her part for the Village on child care duty. Holly and Maria Sanchez, both of whom held teaching degrees, would continue with the children’s education. Obviously, it was too early for class, so Chandra had turned on the television, while Gita and Maria handed out tepid, watery, hot chocolates to the children who were awake. The rest could sleep until school started. I left the details in the very competent hands of the teachers. There were nine kids left in the Village, so they were given the biggest RV. It was somewhat cramped, but they would have to make do. At least they had a bathroom.

I kissed Bailey on the forehead, and she opened her eyes for a moment. “Good-bye, Laura,” she said sleepily. “See you at bathroom break.” She really is a resilient little soul.

“Good-bye, Bailey Bug,” I said. “See you at bathroom break.” What a strange way to say good-bye. I guess everything is strange in this new world.

I am glad that we had prepared her for what was to come. She slipped back into sleep before we even left the camper. I hugged Holly. I was glad to have my old friend keeping my little girl safe. I trusted her implicitly.

I walked Mark to his Tacoma, and he kissed me, just like he did before he went off to work in the old world. “See you at bathroom break,” he said with a chuckle.

Hershey jumped in next to him, happily wagging his tail. He always loved car trips, and I knew that he would be good company for Mark.

“See you at bathroom break,” I returned and walked toward RV number three.

“You ready for this?” asked Jackson as he made his last check of the vehicle line-up.

“As I’ll ever be,” I told him. “You?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he returned.

I stepped up into RV number three. “Hello, everyone,” I said to the camper that housed our expert minds. “I just stopped by to see if you need anything.”

Malcolm and I had spoken very little since I had found out about his compliance in Jackson’s schemes. He looked at me with such regret this morning that I realized it was time to forgive him and Katie in order for all of us to move forward. I smiled at them as warmly as I could muster, and they smiled back with a look of relief on their faces, message received.

“Hello, Laura,” said Malcolm. “We are really prepared here. We won’t start with our first class until we are securely on the trail. We decided to start with a short session from Katie. She is going to talk about stress management. We thought that would be a good kick-starter for the trip.”

“I agree,” I said, taking his arm and squeezing it gently. “Thank you.”

I went over to Ammie and gave her a peck on the cheek. “It’s going to be alright,” she reassured me.

I finally made it to my RV; number two. I took my place at the desk, while Carrie, clipboard in hand, made sure everything was in place before she sat down at the table.

“All clear for take-off,” said Adam, mocking our former lives. “Is everyone ready? Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

He waited for a moment, and when no one spoke, he continued. “Okay, we are going to start our vehicles. Remember to pace yourself by the speed of the vehicle in front of you. It is icy and slippery out there. Alert me on channel nine if there are any problems.”

I watched the Village slowly pass by my window. I could see the wooden signs that we had left directing our lost loved ones to our new location if they ever came looking for us. Jackson gave me a hard time about it, but I insisted. If there was any chance that they made it to Monterey, we had to try.

As we went through the gates, we all saw the final graffiti left by the mystery messenger:

“Nations, like stars, are entitled to eclipse.

All is well, provided the light returns and the eclipse does not become endless night.

Dawn and resurrection are synonymous.

The reappearance of the light is the same as the survival of the soul.”
Victor Hugo

∞

Our entire RV went quiet as we watched the Village get smaller in the distance.

I will always call the Monte Vista Village, of Monterey, California, my home. But it was more than that, really. It had sheltered us from the unbelievable destruction. It had brought us together as a true community, one like we had never known before the Last War.

The RV shook as it made its way on the bumpy, snow-filled trail; a trail created to bring us to our new life.

A single moment of complete terror went through my whole being. What if I was leading my people to a horrifying future, one filled with more death and hardships? I wanted to scream into my walkie for Adam to stop and bring us back home. I didn’t.

I noticed every face in RV two fixed on me, including Bruce and Matt, who were going to sleep in the small bedroom area so that they could cover the night shift for vehicle maintenance and security. I must have been pouring out my anxiety with the look on my face.

Carrie, Samantha, Emma, and Jamie also began to look apprehensive. Reverend John, however, came and sat next to me. He placed a gentle hand on my back.

In a whisper, he told me, “This is the right decision. It is our best chance for long-term survival.”

I nodded at him and took a moment to pull myself together. Every Villager had to believe those words if we were going to make it.

I took a deep breath, knowing that in a few hours Katie would be calming fears with words of support.

“Okay, everyone,” I said. “Get to work. Let’s make this happen.”

Jamie Warner and Emma Winter began discussing the ham radio. They would be checking in with the Out-bounders who had gone to Salinas to pick up another gas tanker and the hospital that we were leaving behind. But they also planned to listen in for other active “Ham-mers,” as they had begun to call anyone who used ham radio sets.

Someone had built me a “privacy wall.” It was just three pieces of wood that sat on the edge of the table, like a cubicle wall. Behind me was the RV wall, so no one could see my monitor unless they happened to be sitting in my chair.

I am glad for that because I will not only be doing the work of keeping our caravan going, but I planned to edit together my video footage, some of which included what I had shot at Jackson’s lairs.

I plan to keep my computer under lock and key.

∞

I was thankful for the distraction of transferring my footage to my computer. The work for me was rote; I have done it so many times in my career. I can’t say why, but it actually felt comforting to piece together my story of the Last War. It felt strangely like someone else’s story, though.

I had created a rather long video introduction. It told the story of the events that happened before I had found my camera and began recording everything.

It was about two hours before we made it to the trail; the path that had been manmade, by both the Out-bounders and the Wanderers. Before the destruction and snow, it would have only taken a few minutes to make it to that spot on the trail.

How things have changed; and how we all have adjusted to this new and brutal way of life.
Was this the nature of humankind?
I wondered.

We have even made up new words to better describe our circumstances. Now, we have Out-bounders, Wanderers, and The Last War.

∞

When Katie’s voice came through the radio’s speakers in our part of the RV, I jumped. I was on edge, enough said.

I set my camera on the edge of the glass window beside me so that I could record the audio that went with the ever changing landscape of the video. I wanted to remember this, and perhaps, with a great deal of luck, help future generations understand what we went through to make their existence possible.

“Having apprehension about the unknown, and of leaving one’s old life, is natural,” Katie started her monologue. “Especially after all that we have been through. That is why we need to learn how to bring our anxieties under control.

“First, we must understand why it is that we have these fears. We all know that there are inherent dangers in what we are facing. It has been that way since the war.”

I was glad that the children’s RV was the only one to not get the broadcast. Their driver, Major Curtis Owens, known as “Curt” to the Villagers, was listening in, though.

I hate to admit it, but I do trust Owens. If I hadn’t, I would never have allowed him to be near the children’s RV, close to Bailey.

Katie continued to tell us how normal our fears were, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t control my thoughts from drifting back to my reservations.

∞

It was important that we kept everyone’s mind off of the potential hazards of our path, so we had designed our schedules to keep things changing up and moving, like they used to do on long flights: drink service, meal, movie and repeat. We would have movies during the evenings in the RVs, but during the day, we would have our informational classes. We didn’t have the luxury to stop learning how to stay alive.

At eight thirty, we stopped for a restroom and small breakfast break. We asked that it go as quickly as possible; meaning no longer than twenty minutes.

Those of us in the RVs had the bathrooms available at all times, so they were reserved for everyone else during the breaks.

We sent one person from each vehicle to pick up bowls of oatmeal and some weak coffee for all non-drivers. Drivers got the good stuff. Annie and her team had measured out all of our rations to last for a month, in case we ran into trouble on the road.

I could already see that it would not be possible for us to take off every Sunday to rest. We needed to listen to our head of transportation, Bruce. He felt strongly that we should not waste our gasoline supplies; another “just in case” thought. Also, he reasoned, we should conserve our fuel for when we made it to the Valley. He made sense. So much for the best laid plans. Flexibility was the word of the day.

We would be taking breaks when we had to stop and cut down trees and handle other eventualities.

When we finally stopped, the children poured from their RV, running and scooping up snow to make snowballs.

Bri and some of the others from the security team moved swiftly to check for anything, or should I say anyone, hiding in the forest that surrounded us.

In the three hours we had been driving, we had only made it two miles. And this was supposed to be the “easiest” part of the ride because we hadn’t hit the hills yet. It was very slow going with such a long entourage of different sized vehicles. The snow wasn’t helping.

Our break took thirty-five minutes from start to finish, but it was our first try. I was sure that in the future we would move more quickly through it.

∞

After we started up again, it was my turn to deliver a short, encouraging message to the Villagers.

“Good morning, Villagers,” I said. “How’s it going out there? Well, we have finally done it. We are on the road to our future. I don’t know about all of you, but it feels great to me. Our first break was a good start, and I am sure that we will be able to get it moving a little faster once we get some practice.

“Now, we are about to hear from Colonel Jackson on how you can help to make our security measures even safer. Curt, you should turn up your radio for the children to hear this one. Colonel, please take it from here.”

Jackson’s nasal voice came over the speakers, making my face scrunch into a grimace. I was glad for my “privacy partition” because I didn’t want to let on to anyone that there was disharmony in the ranks.

“Thank you, Laura,” he said. “I am sure I speak for everyone when I say thank you for your part in all of this. Without your patient guidance, we could never have gotten this far.”

I wondered if anyone else thought he was being less than earnest.