November 7th, 2008
Lori crawled through the doggie door of the house she had taken up residence in. Her nostrils still burnt with the smell of torched bodies and burning debris. She had thought that time would make the stench go away, but it hadn’t. Not even after a month. She surveyed the little corner of town she was in. Burned out shells of cars sat cockeyed in the streets. Buildings were broken and torched. The fires had consumed just about everything their tongues could lick in the town. She knew she’d have to start moving on soon. Her food supply was dwindling, and her water supply was even worse. She had the juices from the handful of canned fruit she had, and the few unpunctured soda cans she’d found outside what use to be a mini-mart. In the mini-mart rubble she had been able to scavenge a couple bags of beef jerky, a can of tuna, and a couple melted candy bars. She wondered how far she could get on those.
She took a look at the sky. It was so deceiving- that bright beautiful blue sky. Tiny wisps of clouds floated lazily across as if lounging in a swimming pool. A flock of birds sat in a tree across the street that had somehow escaped any major damage. With her eyes closed, their birdsong, along with the warm morning sun could almost convince her she had awoken in her own bed from a terrible dream. Unfortunately, when she opened her eyes, it was not sunlight streaming in onto her cream covered walls, all curled up under her cotton sheets with the blanket kicked down at her feet. No- it was still the sight of soot and ash and charcoal. Everywhere. Devastation. It was time to go.
*********************** CHAPTER ONE ****************************************
A month ago, Lori had come home from her job as a bartender at the local dive in town- Mack’s Shack. It had been a rather busy Saturday night, with a birthday party and a bachelor party going on. She had been running like wild, and with her easy personality and good looks, she had won a mirage of tips. However, she had also developed cramped feet, along with a couple of blisters. At 3am Sunday morning, she unlocked her apartment door on the third floor of her building and was relieved to be home. She threw her purse and keys on the side table next to the door and plopped on the couch, tenderly removing her shoes and rubbing her feet. She grabbed a glass of water and went eagerly to bed.
She woke up at 10:00 that morning, refreshed, but still with sore feet. She jumped in a warm shower to wash the previous night’s grime from her, and then donned a robe and went to the kitchen for some coffee. As she sat sipping her coffee and reading a magazine, she heard a very loud bang. It sounded horribly close and not at all good. She got up and went to her living room window that overlooked the south where the sound had come from. She couldn’t see anything, so decided to go check out her bedroom window that had a better view. Seconds after she had entered the hall, there came an enormous racket, and the building shook, the windows on the south side exploding into the apartment. Lori fell against the wall in the hallway, and saw shards of glass embedded in her bedroom wall through the door. She turned back and looked in the living room. The window she had just been standing in front of was gone, blown into the room and across all her furniture. She shuddered to think what she would look like had she not moved.
Her first thought was that there had been an earthquake, or that something had fallen. She slowly made her way back into the living room and peered out the window, being mindful around the glass so as not to slice herself open. When she looked out, all thought escaped her. The buildings that had occupied the block over were gone.. a crater in their place. She heard a loud noise, as if a low flying airplane, and looked up to see that there were bombers flying overhead.
Oh my god, she thought, we’re at war! She hadn’t heard of any tensions lately, no one that was an immediate threat. She found the remote control and flipped on the television. Much to her horror, she saw that it was happening everywhere- not just her town. She had figured as much, but to actually see it was horrifying. She turned the television up as loud as it would go, and then went into her room and quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. Slipping her sandals on, she came back out and turned the t.v. off and went into her hallway.
All of her neighbors were out and talking. Doris, the old lady that lived next door, was quivering and crying that she had already lost her son in a war, and she was not ready for another one. Donald and Travis, the gay couple that lived across the hall were animatedly talking about who they thought it was, and that they needed to call this person or that person. Staci- a young mother of two little twins- was crying but together, and came up to Lori, her two boys clinging to her leg. There was a recreation center downstairs, and she suggested that they all go to the bottom story and see what they could gather from the television. No one really seemed to want to be left alone right now, and no one wanted to be up three stories if they were to topple.
The handful of them went downstairs. A group of their apartment-mates from the other floors had already had the same idea, and were huddled around the set, drinking coffee and eating pastries that the management had brought out to try and help settle everyone. Apparently this had started a couple hours ago out on the east coast and had quickly made it’s way west. They all watched in silence with held breath as the newscasters showed footage of the devastation that lie across the land. No one seemed to know exactly any details and no one could do more than speculate on who was to blame. After a few minutes, the broadcast was interrupted for a special notice from the Department of Homeland Security.
A stern looking man in his 50s with his greying military cut and starched suit came on and told them that their country was at war with an as of yet unknown enemy. He spoke a bunch of words that held no information for Lori other than that towns all across America had been blown up, but at this point, it did not appear that there had been any nuclear attack or any attack with biological warfare, as had originially been feared. To be on the safe side though, he said that the country was going into military lock-down. Everyone was required to take military escort to designated nearby military facilities. He said that local news stations would soon be given instructions for times when civilians could be expected to be ready. It was made clear that any attempt to avoid going to these military institutions would be viewed as contempt and treason, and people could expect to be shot on sight for such behavior. He went on to discuss that the facilities had been set up for national emergency, and that they would be sheltered and fed in comfortable conditions until more information could be obtained as to what was happening.
The room was quiet as the broadcast ended and their regular newscast crew came back on. They as well seemed to be stirred by this news, but proceeded to explain what had happened with the White House, and they were awaiting direction. They went on to reiterate all that had transpired during the morning, and repeated their stories and the Dept of Defense’s statement. Everyone looked around at each other, flabbergast and confused. Despite the nervous energy that abounded in the room, no one spoke. After about fifteen minutes, the newscasters interrupted their story to let the people know that they had received their direction, and the times were being given to them for various towns and their pickup instructions. They went threw each town, giving locations and times for pickup. Citizens were instructed to pack as little as possible, and each person would be allowed no more than a gym sized bag or backpack to be brought with them. They finally reached Lori’s town of Red Rock. Their designated time was 8pm that evening at the Red Rock High School gymnasium. Anyone not at the gym by 8pm would be considered as a traitor. Lori looked up at the clock on the wall above the television set. It was 12:15pm. They had just under eight hours. She thought it strange that they gave no instruction for keeping themselves safe in the meantime. So many questions raced through her mind. People began to talk all at once, asking the same questions she had, but eventually they all went back to their apartments to get ready.
As people began to exit the rec room, one of their oldest neighbors- Mr Andlers- began talking, quietly at first, and then more animated. He was a retired vet from Viet Nam, and often told his old war stories, and some people thought that maybe he was a bit cracked in the head. He started saying “we did it”. Over and over, he said it, getting louder with each repetition. Lori stopped and looked at him, as did Staci and and a few others.
“What are you talking about, old man?” asked a man Lori recognized as being a tenant on the second floor, but did not know his name.
“We did it”, Mr Andler repeated. “Look! Those are American planes! Those aren’t enemy planes, their our own guys!”. He turned his wheelchair towards them and gestured animatedly at the tv. “American planes. Americans bombing our own country!”
“You’re wrong.” stated Doris, my old neighbor. “There’s no way the country my son died for would kill it’s own citizens mindlessly”.
She defiantly turned and walked back towards the stairwell, Donald and Travis running to help make sure she made it up ok. The man from the second story just shook his head and mumbled some absurdity under his breath and also left. A few people lingered, seeming to be torn between what to believe. Staci looked pale, holding her two boys to her close. She then seemed to clear her head, give it a shake, and she too, went back up. Lori looked at Mr Andler. She watched his character. At 32 years of age, she had a way of watching people and sizing them up. It didn’t hurt that she had also minored in psychology and sociology in college. The teaching degree she had earned had proved unuseful in this town, and she had not been able to find work anywhere else. She occasionally subbed at the elementary school, but other than that, she had paid all that money to be able to tell which patrons she would get the best tips from at the bar.
Mr Adler didn’t look cracked up. He looked scared. He looked angry. He did not, however, look crazy. He honestly believed what he was saying. His agitation looked more like it came from his inability to convince others than anything else. He turned his attention back to the news, not moving from his spot. His eyes suddenly turned back to Lori, who was at this time the only one left in the room. “I am not going to be at that high school tonight. I would advise you not to either. Something is up. We are under attack by our own country. The gym is a trap. They will be leading cows to the slaughter there, they will.” With that, he turned away from the tv, and rolled his wheelchair down the hall and around the corner out of sight. Lori looked back at the tv, watched as they showed pictures of the planes dropping bombs all over her country. She tuned out the voices of the newscasters’ constant repetition of the instructions for pick-up. Her eyes focused on one jet she saw almost hidden in a wisp of clouds as it flew over what looked like Denver. Was that the red and white of stripes on it’s underside she saw? Or was that a figment of her imagination taking over? She turned and walked back up to her apartment.
Inside her apartment, Lori took a survey of her place. What should she take with her? She had no idea what she would need there, or how long she would be gone. Hell, she didn’t even know if she would ever be able to come back to her apartment. She tuned into the newscast, keeping an ear out for any new information, as she stuffed her gym bag with a couple outfits, makeup, keys, pictures of her and her recently deceased mother, a couple of her favorite books. Suddenly she heard commotion on the television. She wandered out to watch. On screen, she realized that they were not showing America, but another country. Germany she thought they said, but the person who was talking in that part of the world was running hurriedly, as was the cameraman. She saw planes bombing them as well- saw the same type of devastation that had plastered the news earlier of her own country. Suddenly, the camera went black. It was gone. The newscasters came back on and spoke of how they were getting reports all over the world of this happening. They also had a man on the phone who was a retired air-force pilot. He was telling them the same thing that Mr Andler had said. These were American planes dropping the bombs on America. From what he had seen from other countries- it was their own pilots as well. Countries had turned on themselves. The woman newscaster went on to explain that they had gotten scores of emails stating the same thing. They went to another Dept of Defense statement, stating that these were not American pilots, although it did appear that they were American planes. He went on to reiterate that citizens were to report to their designated meeting spots and let the military lead them to their safe spots. He also reiterated that any resistance would be viewed as hostile and contempt, and would be acted on accordingly.
Lori watched for awhile, viewing the man talking, and she noticed a glimmer of amusement, deep in his eyes. He was relishing this. She tried to tell herself that she was just being paranoid, but her heart and her gut told her that this was the enemy- right here on the television, and getting ready to take all the people of her town, and towns all over, into custody. Much to her surprise, she made a decision not to go. She was not going to be held captive.
She decided she would have to find somewhere to hide. She had no doubt that the soldiers would be combing the town for those, like her and Mr Andler, who decided not to go to the school’s gym. She sat on the edge of her bed and tried to think. She thought of various places, but none seemed safe enough. She got up and went into her closet to grab the gun she kept on the top shelf there. As she switched on the overhead light, she caught glance of the access to the crawl-space attic above. The access was almost completely hidden by the glare of the light next to it. She moved her nightstand into the closet, and standing on top, lifted the access to peer inside. It had decidedly more room than she would have thought. She figured she could probably crawl through it if needed. She could see rat droppings and years of dust built up, but considering the alternative, she thought she would be okay up there. She pulled herself up to test it. She could lie inside comfortably, and could even roll over. She got up on all fours, and although her back scrapped against the top rafters, she was able to crawl. The only problem she discovered was putting the access panel back on. She would have to figure out a way to do that, or else her plan would be easily detected.
She crawled back down into her closet, and inspected the access. She needed a way to affix it so that once she got up there, she could pull it back into place behind her without being noticed. She also noticed that she had left scuff marks on the ceiling when she touched it. She went into her kitchen, washed her hands and rummaged through her junk drawers. She stole a look at the clock, and realized she had just under five hours left. In her drawer she found a roll of duct tape. Picking it up she looked at it, and an idea formed in her head. She took the tape back into the closet, and pulled down the panel. With a washcloth, she wiped down the inside of the crawl space just inside. She then dried it with a towel. She did the same with the panel. She cut off a large piece of the duct tape, and affixed it to the inside of the space, and then to the inside of the panel. She did this four times, providing an almost sheet of tape between the panel and attic. She let go, and the panel hung down.
Satisfied for the moment, she went to survey her apartment. She had to make sure it looked like she had packed and left. She noticed her purse still sitting on the table next to the door, and decided to throw that up into the crawlspace as well. Most women would still take their purse. Her keys were already inside the gym bag. She let her dresser drawers remain open, since it was obvious she had been hurriedly packing. She threw the gym bag up into the hiding spot as well. She went to her kitchen and pulled out all her bottled water she had ( five bottles ) and rummaged through for food she could take with her. She found a couple of granola bars, and she made herself a few peanut butter sandwiches that she wrapped in Saran wrap and put into a bag. She then pulled her gym bag back out and put them in there as well. She then went and made sure that there were no traces of dust on the access panel or ceiling around it. When she finished, it looked almost invisible when put back up again. She took the gun with her into the bathroom and took a long hot shower. She wasn’t sure when she would get another one. She then dressed herself in a fresh pair of jeans, and a clean shirt. She stuffed the dusty clothes into her hamper and covered them with a couple of the other items in there,
She went back into her living room and looked out the window. Devastation was everywhere, and she did not even try to stop the tears that flowed. She was suddenly thankful that she had no family remaining; none that she had any contact with anyways. The news was now constantly repeating the department of defense’s statements about the pick up times and the assurance that we had not attacked ourselves. A ticker at the bottom went over all the pick up times and locations for each town. Apparently the newscasters were not immune to the pick ups either. Or they wanted to go be with their families. She figured both were true. She looked at the clock. An hour remained. She could hear the people in the hallways already starting out, and saw people on the streets heading towards the school. As she turned to head to her room, she happened to see her answering machine sitting there- the red light a solid red to notify of no new messages. On a whim, she whipped out her cell phone and called herself. She figured the soldiers might check her message, and she figured it was one last touch to make it appear as if she had really left.
“Hi Lori,” she said to herself, and she noted the tremor in her voice, which she did not try to disguise. ” I was just calling to see if you had left to the school yet. Since I’m talking to your machine, I suppose you already have, which means you’ll probably never get this.. but here I am talking anyway. (nervous laugh). Well, I guess I will meet you there. I’m scared. The military will take good care of us though, right? Ok.. love you girl. See you there….” She hung up.
It felt eerie.. that message to herself. It seemed final. She watched for a few moments at the blinking red light.. something she very rarely saw. She went and locked her front door- something that was habit when she left her apartment- then turned for her room. She grabbed the gun, some extra shells, and a flashlight, and threw them up into the passage. She pushed the nightstand back to it’s rightful place next to her bad, and wiped out the markings in the carpet with her shoe. She then hoisted herself up, and cut herself a small piece of duct tape which she folded over itself, sticky side out, and used it to pull the access panel back into place. She had purposely left the closet light on, for it’s camouflaging effect on the panel.