Without (11 page)

It was war.

Trees were exploding like they were being hit by a barrage
of artillery. The lightning rods on the fire lookout tower were glowing white
as they absorbed strike after strike of the massive bolts. The ground shook
when they couldn’t take any more, sending debris in every direction after the
blast.

It started with one flash, but seconds later it erupted into
a dizzying light show. With the black cloud blocking the sun, it was as if we
were in a carnival funhouse with strobe lights pulsating to the beat of fast
music. Most of us inside had to reach out for the wall as we moved from room to
room, mesmerized by the powerful display.

We had been spared a direct strike from the bolts, but we
hit the deck when a heavy limb pierced through the roof over the kitchen. One
of the rangers was sent flying across the floor after he was knocked off his feet
by the impact. The room was quickly filling with smoke from the burning bomb. I
grabbed an extinguisher off the wall, putting out the fire so we could reach
the downed man. His forearm was deformed from the obvious break, but it seemed
to be his only injury.

I helped Ms. Ashley get under a table to give her some
protection from the danger falling from above. I turned to look out the window,
seeing countless trails of smoke behind branches turned into missiles. A large
maple tree fifty yards from the station was fully engulfed, raining fire across
the back yard and onto the deck. There were more ways to die outside, so we
were forced to stay indoors, hoping the building could withstand the attack.

Lasting for several minutes, the bombardment moved over us,
leaving impressive destruction in its wake. After Wes checked on every person
in the station, he waited for the storm to pass over the mountain to our west
before stepping outside. As the sunlight tried to push through the thinning
tail of the cloud, it was defeated by the smoke of the fires left behind by the
lightning strikes. I joined him on the deck to assess the damage. Rangers flew
by me, springing into action to put water on the fires threatening the
building.

As if he knew it was coming, Wes and his troops were ready
with a plan of action. Garden hoses were snaking in all directions, being
attached to valves on each water source on the property. Two rangers were
see-sawing on a manual pump, increasing the water pressure on a large hose
equal in size to any on a fire truck.

When Wes gave the command, the firefighting ranger on the
nozzle pushed the lever forward, sending a wide arc of water onto the roof.
Puffs of dying smoke and steam rose from the dozens of small fires on and
around the station as they drowned each one. When they were satisfied the
building was safe, they turned their hoses onto outlying fires that threatened
the smaller structures around the station. In a matter of minutes, all of the fires
from the burning debris were extinguished. There wasn’t much these rangers
lacked in preparation – if anything.

As they turned their attention to the burning maple, Wes
signaled for them to stop their advance. I was the only person who questioned
why he ordered the retreat from complete victory. He didn’t speak an answer, he
gave it with a confident smile, waving to his troops to converge on the deck.

“We need to cover the hole in the roof,” said Wes. “And we
need to do it with some speed.”

With nods the rangers traded their hoses for tools. Being
useless during the firefighting, I joined them in the repair. These weren’t the
type of people to throw a tarp over anything. Once again they were efficient,
organized, and the perfect definition of a team. As the last shingle was nailed
to the plywood patch, the reason for the confident smile came rolling over the
mountain to the east. A dense curtain of rain doused any fears of lightning
ignited forest fires. The maple surrendered without a fight.

“I’m not even going to ask,” I said, looking at Wes.

“The signs are everywhere.”

He went inside, leaving me standing in the doorway to the
deck. I watched as Mother Nature erased the danger she had created moments
before. I didn’t notice any of the signs he spoke of which alerted him to the
coming rain. I vowed to pay more attention.

As soon as the rain stopped, the sun made a grand
appearance, sending us a sign we could all read. A brilliant rainbow decorated
the recovering sky. The good was just as intense as the bad.

After setting the injured ranger’s broken bone, Alison
checked me again for any hints of pneumonia. Her diagnosis was that my lungs
were clearing well and I was closer to coming out of the woods of an infection.
It was a gentle reminder that I’d have to leave in the morning. I found myself
in another place where I wasn’t eager to walk away.

We all pitched in to clean the debris off the roof, in the
kitchen, and around the property. It didn’t take long to restore the meticulous
order of the station. Like nothing happened, we enjoyed another family-style
meal on the deck before the sun set for the evening.

As I was afforded the safety and security of my quarters for
the last time, my mind drifted to the faces of the people I’d met along my
journey. There was an urge to walk in the wrong direction in the morning,
checking on all of them. I wanted to put my eyes on Hope and the girls to know
that they made it through the lightning barrage intact. I wanted to stop by
Emma’s to see if she weathered the storms as well as I had. I tried to push Sam
out of my thoughts, but she found a way inside my head. Blowing me a kiss
goodbye on Hope’s porch was the last image I remember before I fell asleep. She
was still there when I awoke, staying away from my dreams.

I cleared my head of her and packed my gear for another long
walk. From what I could tell, my lungs had defeated any chance of me staying a
few more days. I tried to make as little noise as possible since the dawn was
just starting to break. I said most of my goodbyes the night before, knowing
I’d be leaving early.

Taking advantage of the comforts of the wash shed, I brushed
my teeth, shaved, and prepared for the trip. Feeling refreshed, I walked
outside to look for any signs that Mother Nature might be in a bad mood. A cool
breeze and blue sky were the only messages I received. As I turned the corner
and headed for the road, I saw a different sign that put a smile on face.

“Good morning,” greeted Alison on horseback, holding the
reigns of another. “You weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye, were
you?”

“Didn’t want to wake you,” I said. “You had a long day
yesterday.”

“So did you,” said Alison. “Wes appreciated all your help
and your company. Wes is already out checking on some friends who don’t live
far from here. This is his horse. He wants you to use it to get over the
mountains so you can have more time to let those ribs heal.”

“I take it you’re coming with me?”

“I am.”

“Be sure to thank him for me,” I said. “He’s already done
too much. The both of you have.”

“Don’t mention it,” said Alison, noticing that I could mount
the horse without a boost. “You heal pretty fast.”

“Oh, no,” I said. “They still hurt like hell. I was just
trying to impress you.”

“Mission accomplished. We should make the other side of the
range by early afternoon. That’ll put you on the edge of the WMA. Lafayette is
less than five miles from where I’ll be turning around. The walk to town will
be much easier for you – and your ribs – on fresh legs.”

I was more than grateful, knowing I wouldn’t have to sleep
in a car somewhere deep in the backcountry. (I had my fill of sleeping in
cars.) On horseback, it would save me a day of uphill travel through the WMA.

The trail we took cut the distance in half. We kept our eyes
turned upwards, looking for any signs of bad weather approaching. Not only were
the events becoming more intense, the speed of their arrival was unnerving. We
knew it could be blue skies and smooth sailing one moment, then darkness and
chaos the next.

From the crest of the highest point on the trail, I could
see Lafayette. It was the last town with a considerable population along my
route to Bootleg Mountain and the end of my travels. Even eleven days into the
event, I thought it unlikely anyone had taken up residence or looted the
supplies inside. Either scenario wasn’t disheartening. If someone was there,
I’d ask them politely – at first – to leave. If the supplies were gone, I’d
have no problem finding plenty of food and water nearby.

“How far away is your home?” asked Alison.

“Once I hit Lafayette, two days’ walk,” I answered. “Well,
that’s if my ribs cooperate with me.”

“I know you’re in a hurry to get there,” said Alison, “but
you need to pace yourself. If it gets hard to breath, take a break. You’ve come
this far, no need to tempt fate.”

“I’ve been telling myself that for eleven days,” I said. “So
far I haven’t taken my own advice.”

“What’s the plan when you get there?”

“Hunker down,” I said. “Let myself heal properly and then
get things in order.”

“Any family or friends around?”

“Nope, just me.”

“So the plan is still to avoid people,” said Alison,
smiling. “Turn into Grizzly Adams minus the beard. If you don’t mind me saying,
that sounds pretty lonely.”

“It isn’t the first time I’ve heard that,” I said. “Sam told
–”

“Sam?” asked Alison. “
The
Sam?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but I still talk to her,” I said.
“When things get tough, I can hear her voice. She’s helped me out of a few jams
since this thing started. I haven’t heard from her in a while.”

“Why’s that?”

“Long story,” I said.

“Long ride.”

I didn’t hold anything back. I told Alison about what
happened with Hope and how Sam had to let me go so I could make my own
decisions. Thinking I made the wrong one, I also told her how I thought I took
advantage of the situation at the house. It felt good talking to someone – anyone
– about it. In her usual fashion, Alison didn’t pull any punches.

“You really are a mess,” said Alison. “And I’m not saying
that to be mean. We’ve all had our share of difficult moments recently, but I
think you win the prize. Anybody would be a mess if they were walking in your
shoes. You know you only have one choice, right?”

“To get over it,” I answered.

“Bingo,” replied Alison. “
In three words, I can sum up
everything I’ve learned about life. It goes on
.”

“Robert Frost?” I said.

“Bingo, again, sir,” replied Alison. “You’re on a roll
today. I’m not big into poetry, but that guy makes sense to me.”

Time flew as we talked, putting miles behind us. Before we
both realized it, the road that would take me the rest of the way to Lafayette
appeared in front of us. It was a good conversation. I was sorry to see it –
and Alison – go. We made our goodbyes quick.

I stood for a moment as I watched her return to the woods,
leading Wes’s horse back to the station. It must have taken an incredible
amount of trust to lend me such a valuable animal. When she disappeared, I
turned to face the road.

Alone again.

Without the nagging pain in my side, I would’ve made the
six-mile trip in less than three hours. Judging by the position of the sun, I
was well into my fourth. As the houses grew closer together, I knew I was on
the outskirts of Lafayette. It was a town of 7,000 people spread out over eight
square miles. I didn’t see a soul as I approached the small airfield. The end
of the single runway was two miles from downtown. It was as close as I wanted
to get.

Over the years, there had been countless theories about how
society would react to a world-wide catastrophic event. Being cut off from any
information outside of what I could see and hear, I had no idea which theory
was being proven correct on a large scale. I could only go by what I’d
experienced. People being set on fire by gangs in Atlanta might have clouded my
perception of how others were getting along, but it was a powerful argument
that most weren’t doing well.

My theory was written in stone by history. Get out of the
city as fast as possible. Stay mobile and well-armed. Lawlessness would be the
new order, and killing wouldn’t stop until there was nobody left to die. Once
all the resources in Atlanta – or any city – were depleted by the cowards,
they’d start moving out like locusts.

Anything people couldn’t eat, drink, or gain pleasure from
would be worthless. Paper money, credit cards, gold, diamonds, or anything
before the event that we considered valuable meant nothing anymore. I’d rather
have had pound of bacon than a pound of gold.

There were advantages to working in a group – like the
rangers - to provide security and resources for larger numbers. But eventually,
they’d be overrun by the have nots. When religious zealots spoke about the meek
inheriting the earth, it wasn’t because they were going to earn it. It’s
because they were going to take it. Who had a better chance? The wealthy man
who worked hard his entire life to provide for his family and the families of
others, or the coward who earned nothing but was holding a gun? More times than
not, the gun wins.

The only chance good people had to survive, was to become
more ruthless and unforgiving than the evil. But they had to identify it first.
Brian learned that lesson when four men came to his front door. He gave them
the benefit of the doubt because he didn’t recognize the evil that was staring
him in the face. When he did, it was too late. He was lucky to die quickly in
the foyer. His girls weren’t as lucky.

Emma, Earl, Wes, and Alison showed me that there still were
good people willing to help one another. It was something I didn’t expect when
I started my journey. I thought the last thing I’d experience on the road was
kindness from strangers.

Walking on the outskirts of town, I needed to put things
back in perspective. Of the twenty people I had close contact with since I left
my apartment building, twelve of them were cowards. I just killed them before
they had a chance to kill me. Wes wanted me to pay the kindness forward. As the
days passed and the evil grew, I wondered if I’d ever get the chance.

Several gunshots coming from the direction of downtown
secured my belief that that chance might not be coming in Lafayette. As fast as
I wanted to leave a city, there’d be just as many heading toward one.
Opportunists knew a larger populated area would hold more resources to take.
Opportunists also knew good people would flock to government buildings within
those populated areas for guidance and security. I knew they wouldn’t find
either. The only thing those good people would find were the bad, waiting for
them like spiders in a web.

My gut told me to keep moving as far away from the gunfire
as possible, but my ribs told me I was done walking for the day. I needed to
find a secure shelter to rest for the night. Two stand-alone buildings on
opposite sides of the road gave me choices.

When I looked for shelter in a commercial building, there were
certain types I avoided. If I believed there was anything inside that would
attract looters, whether it was in there or not, I kept moving. My choices were
a daycare and a tax preparation office. That was a no-brainer. There would be
food and drinks for the kids stored in the kitchen of the daycare. There was
nothing in the tax office people would want.

There had been only one occasion in which I needed to use my
pry bar and hammer as keys for a lock. That record would stay intact as I
turned the knob, opening the back door to the office. I pulled out my shotgun,
stepping inside with caution. I wouldn’t relax until I had checked every
crevice that could hide a small human.

When I confirmed it was clear, I found a handful of nails in
a tool drawer in a supply room. I sealed up every door and six of the seven
windows in the building. The small room where I found the nails would be my
bedroom for the night. It had the only window I hadn’t secured with steel. It
was high enough off the ground that someone would need a step ladder to reach
it. If they decided to break it, they’d get a face full of buckshot before they
could climb inside. It was no ranger station, but it would do.

Being so close to people, once I sealed myself inside, I
wasn’t going back out until it was time to move. There’d be no campfire to cook
over. There’d be no sitting on the deck enjoying a sunset in this town. When I
saw a pillar of black smoke rising from the direction of Lafayette, I worried I
may have already gotten too close.

As the sunlight was fading, all thoughts of it being a bad
decision were erased when I opened the cabinet in Bud Jackson’s office. As I
looked at the picture of him and his family on the wall, I thanked him for
being a large man. The cabinet was packed with high calorie food.

I couldn’t decide what to eat first. While I pondered, I
opened the bag of chips and the jar of cheese dip. Crunching away, I pulled out
two cans of clam chowder and grabbed the soup crackers. The harder choice was
going to be desert. Would it be Oreos or Little Debbie snack cakes? I popped
open a soda and waited for the answer. Oreos it was.

Standing at the window that faced the town and with my bowl
in hand, I ate while the glow of the fires in Lafayette fought back the
darkness of the early evening. I wondered if there would be anything left of it
by morning. I was thankful I was far enough away not to hear any of the screaming.
There were a lot of good people out there who were meeting the bad for the
first time.

When I finished the main course and a handful of cookies, I
was glad to feel my eyes getting heavy. I pulled the cushions off the couch and
chairs to make my bed in the supply room. I wedged them between the shelves
full of paper goods and the copier. It was a tight fit, but it felt somewhat
secure. Much more secure than in a car or sleeping under the stars. I had no
complaints.

I pulled Bud’s recliner up to the window and sank into the plush
seat. I was tired, but not quite ready to sleep. I yanked the lever on the side
of the chair, leaning back to gaze at the world on the other side of the glass.

I wondered what Bud was doing while I sat in his chair.
After enjoying his food, I hoped he was somewhere safe with his family. I knew
his reality was much different from my hopes. He was probably sitting in a dark
house, unprepared for the event, running out of supplies. He was probably
thinking about the goodness inside the cabinet that I just robbed. All of a
sudden, the meal I ate had a different taste.

It’s odd how a picture on a wall changes things. I looked at
the building as a benign place to loot and bed down in relative safety. The
family in that photo looked at it as something different. It was a place that
dad built and then built a family around it. It was a place that held all his
hopes and dreams for a brighter future for the ones whom he loved.

I knew exactly where he was. Bud was sitting scared, hungry,
and terrified of anything that went bump in the night. He wasn’t worried about
providing a brighter future for his family anymore. That ship had sailed. He
was worried about how he was going to keep them from starving or dying at the
hands of someone looking to take what little he had left.

Closing my eyes, I called out for Sam, hoping she’d be there
when I opened them. If she would just talk to me for a few minutes, I knew I
could make everything right again. I felt ashamed for turning to Hope instead
of her. I felt ashamed for having feelings for someone else. I felt like I was
losing my mind calling out for a dead woman. I needed to get some sleep.

Setting my shotgun down beside me, placing my feet against
the door, I tried to clear my head of any thoughts except finishing the journey
and getting home. I didn’t care how bad the pain flared, I was going to do
twenty miles tomorrow come hell or high water. Once I was in the familiar
setting of my boyhood home on Bootleg Mountain, none of this shit would matter.

As I began to drift, a sonic boom shook everything around
me. I opened my eyes to see the supply room filled with green light from the
aurora. It seemed Mother Nature wasn’t ready to let me rest. After several
minutes the intensity of the light storm increased beyond anything I had
experienced before. I recognized the vibration in my chest as a sign that the
finale was coming. When it arrived, I covered my face as the window in the
supply room shattered above my head.

Checking myself for lacerations as the light dimmed, I had
no choice but to move out of the supply room. (An open window made it too easy
for someone to come through right on top of me.) Brushing the glass off the
cushions, I gathered them under my arms. Room by room, I saw shattered glass
and open windows.

With the security of the building severely compromised, I
should’ve strapped on my pack and headed down the road. The combination of
being exhausted, pissed off, and not giving a shit helped me make the decision
to stay. I figured if Sam and Earl weren’t going to offer up any solutions, why
should I care where I slept?

Like a defiant child rebelling against my own better
judgment, I found a storage closet with no windows at the end of the hall. I
cleared out the vacuum, cleaning supplies, and coats. I pounded a couple of cushions
into the floor of the tiny space. Jamming my pack onto the hat shelf above me,
there wasn’t much room for anything else.

Holding the shotgun, I tried to maneuver into a comfortable
position. Every position I tried put the barrel of the gun somewhere near a
vital organ. I was being defiant, not stupid.

I wedged the shotgun behind my pack on the shelf, exchanging
it for one of the pistols. After a few more twists and turns, I found a decent
position. I didn’t feel the need to sleep with my feet against the door since
it opened in the opposite direction.

I would’ve been more comfortable in the Miata.