Necro, page 6
He had known men who seemed to be perfect fathers and husbands, but when they were at the bar, and the kids were home with the wife, they were completely different. It was something he had always hated, and something he had constantly fought with whenever he had noticed the same sort of inconsistencies in himself. It was a battle though that he had always won, and would continue to fight. It was one of the main things that had decided him against religion when he was a kid, that and his father.
His father had been a strict Catholic, and had fought with John's mother to get her to agree to let him take John to attend the local Catholic Church. John had hated it. His father, who was normally drunken, or at least drinking, would sit calmly through mass with all his other drinking buddies every Sunday, then when he got home it was, “Bring me a fucking cold one, woman.”
He had actually been glad when his father had died, he had never said it aloud, but he had been. He had only wished he had died a lot sooner so that his mother could have had more than the one year she had lived past him, to enjoy life. He pulled his mind reluctantly back to the conversation, when he heard Glenn speak his name.
“Sorry,” he said. “I was just thinking.”
“That's okay,” Glenn smiled, “we all are.”
Glenn continued. “What I think is that the world has changed... That simple. We just need to get on with this different life. I know that's over simplistic, but it beats staying around here waiting for the mother ship to show up. What I was wondering is what you're going to do. Hell, what all of us are going to do now?” He paused as most of the silent crowd that had gravitated to them turned their eyes towards him.
“Maybe it's time to sacrifice an animal... Pray,” an older woman in the crowd said.
Glenn continued when no one else answered. “I don't think, or maybe I'm just not convinced,” he offered the woman who had just been speaking a small smile, and then continued, “That praying, or a sacrifice, will do us much good. Maybe what we should be doing is trying to figure out what we should be doing. Catch my drift? We can't just stay here and wait for someone to come, it ain't going to happen, and I think we can all agree on that.” He looked around at the faces that surrounded him, and stopped at John's.
John nodded.
“Did any of you notice the temperature?” Glenn asked.
Several people looked expectantly to one corner of the Public Square, where the Watertown Trust Bank had sat with its digital clock, which alternately flashed the time and temperature. They turned quickly back when they realized it was no longer there.
Many of them had noticed the difference in temperature though. Northern New York, even in the summer months, rarely reached the high seventies, low eighties, on the hottest days. The surrounding air was much hotter and humid.
They looked back at Glenn.
“Kate and I noticed it this morning,” John said.
“I picked this up when I went in Samson’s Five and Dime earlier,” Glenn said, holding up a small plastic thermometer. The red line on the thermometer hovered just short of one hundred degrees.
As he looked at the thermometer, John recalled how warm it had seemed this morning. When he had first opened the front door he had felt it, but then forgotten it as he had gazed out into the street. As he looked around now he noticed that several people in the small crowd were sweating profusely. In fact, he realized, he was sweating a great deal himself.
“Anyway, my point is this,” Glenn said as he began to speak again, “there may be something to that earthquake theory some of you have been kicking around. It could be that the fault line may have been triggered,” Glenn was saying. “If it was, we really ought to be thinking about finding a safer place to be. I remember reading about that fault line, and it seems to me the book I read, said that if the fault were somehow triggered, it could, and probably would, crack the entire Great Lakes Basin. That means that Ontario, along with all the other lakes in the chain, probably would drop. At least a small amount at first, but after they recover from the initial drop, they're probably going to rise... They're probably going to rise, a lot. I don't know what most of you know about this city, but I'll tell you what I know. Got it from the same book,” he paused. “...It’s built on pretty low ground. Now... that river,” he said indicating the bridge that spanned the Black river on the opposite side of the Public Square, “has surely been rising.”
With that the discussion went back to where they should go, and what they should do once they got there.
“You're right,” John said at last, “We do need to make some decisions,” he paused for a moment and then continued. “When was the last time anyone here ate? I know that sounds a little stupid at a time like this, but if we're going anywhere we should also think about food, and in this heat dehydration could become a factor as well, couldn't it, Glenn?” he finished, looking toward him.
“I should have thought of that myself,” Glenn said, “how many of us are there?”
Kate quickly counted heads and replied. “Twenty-seven, Glenn.”
Glenn nodded his head. “Okay... Let’s do this. We do have to eat, so let’s head up Maple Street to Jacobs Superette, get something to eat, and finish this discussion there.”
Everyone agreed, and the small group left the public square and walked the three blocks to Jacob's Superette in a light rain that had begun to fall.
Jacob's Superette
John, Kate, Glenn and several others were standing by the rear doors that led to the stockroom in Jacob's Superette.
They had been discussing where they should go. A few others from the small group were there with them.
John looked around at them as the conversation went back and forth. They seemed solid enough. Terry Jacobs who had worked for Glenn, Amber Johnson who was married to a GI from the base who was now stationed overseas, and Scott Vincent, a carpenter working on one of the many housing developments in the area. There were others but many of those others that had followed them to Jacobs Superette did not really seem to be doing anything other than following. The ones that had gathered at the back of the store seemed to be on the same page, leaving Watertown.
Ed Weston and Dave Jackson had joined the small group earlier. Ed had worked for Glenn at the gravel pit for over ten years. He was tall with dirty-blonde hair and a slim muscular build, and John liked him. He'd grown up right here in Watertown on Fig Street, down by Jackson's Lumber. A piss poor family, but Ed himself was a damn good man. He seemed a little rattled today, but weren't they all? He was a hard worker and would be an asset to the group if he chose to come along.
Glenn and Kate both knew Dave. He owned one of the local lumber mills: A small family mill. He had also driven truck for Glenn once or twice when things were slow. John had never met him, but he had seen him around: Watertown was a small city. Neither of the men had voiced their opinions, but had been standing quietly as the other three had talked. Dave was younger than Ed, but just as tall, and his dark black hair was tied in a small ponytail that hung down his back.
The conversation at the market never really got going. The crowd that followed had spread out into the store, taking what they wanted to eat and then split up into smaller groups, discussing their own plans. A few had congregated near the beer coolers. That discussion was sometimes heated, and more than once John had caught some nasty looks directed at them from that crowd.
“I guess not everyone is on the same page,” John said now.
“It was a good idea,” Glenn said. “You can't make people see a good idea. Look at cigarettes. People knew for years what they were doing to them and they still smoked. Some of these people haven't hit the wall yet. They still believe the system will save them.”
“Yeah, except there is no system,” Scott said.
Glenn nodded.
“Listen,” John started. He paused until they were all looking at him, not sure if he really wanted to proceed. “Might sound stupid,” he said after a few moments of silence.
“I don't think anything would sound stupid right now... We're trying to figure this out,” Kate said.
John frowned. “Okay.” He frowned deeply, and then nodded decisively. “So it's this. I came back a few weeks ago from the Tug. I'm thinking, my truck is still packed, what with the ways things have been, Kate and I have thought about lighting out… How many are we,” he paused and counted heads, “Eight? I have enough freeze-dried and ready to eats packed to keep us all fed for a few days... We could head out to the Tug Hill Plateau. Close by. We could pick up some stuff here to take with us too...” He paused again, but no one spoke. “I say let's get another truck or two and get away from the city for a few days. Maybe the Tug Hill Plateau wouldn't be a bad place to be right now. Let things calm down, especially the hot heads.” He paused, his face grim. “We can come back in a few days... Maybe the Guard will be here by then, maybe not, but it would give us a few days to think this out, if it... Well, if it really is as bad as it seems to be...” He looked from face to face as he stopped speaking.
“Smart,” Scott said.
“Probably for the best,” Glenn agreed. He had all been listening to the nearby conversations, some loud and argumentative, and the beer cooler was emptying quickly: That certainly wasn't going to help the problem.
“Yeah... These guys seem bent on getting drunk and figuring it all out,” Amber said.
“I've seen that sort of thinking before,” Kate agreed. “I vote go.”
“I'm on that,” Scott agreed.
Dave Jackson and Ed Weston agreed.
“I make that all eight?” John asked.
“Only, let's get some trucks and get what we need here before we go. This place is going to get picked over fast,” Kate said.
“Who do you want to go with you?” John asked.
“I'm open,” Kate replied.
“I'll go,” Amber said.
“Me too,” Scott added.
“That's enough... I guess we'll get stuff ready here... Wait on you,” John said. He held Kate's eyes until she nodded. A second later she and the others left and the rest of them began to put together some bags of supplies.
THREE
I flexed my hand and looked around the kitchen in the flickering candle light. Writing about it is bringing it all back, like I'm right back there. Kate's rifle and two spare clips are laying on the table top now. I haven't needed it yet, but the night is young. Who can tell what it will be like a few hours from now when the light is entirely gone: When all the dead wake in the old barn across the road. My rifle is also loaded, but I have less ammunition for it and it isn't worth a damn up close. Kate was a lot smarter about weapons than I was... Much smarter.
It's so goddamn quiet. I hate that. That quiet. These bastards don't breath, they don't trip and fall, and they aren't clumsy... You would never know they are there, never know it at all. Jesus, I... Never mind. My mind wanders too much. Too goddamned much; I'll be back...
I took a walk around. Upstairs I can still see a faint line of sunlight on the far horizon. The yard is dark. I can't hear any more sounds. It's unnerving. The boards are all in place, everything seems secure. I'm back at the table...
The cramping is gone from my hand. I guess in the digital age we just don't write much, but when it's all you got, it's all you got. The whiskey is holding out. I'm being careful with it; don't worry, not that it will make a bit of difference...
We had left the city behind and drove up deep into the Tug Hill forest area...
John and Kate
The Tug Hill Plateau
Early Morning
The camp was a makeshift place off an old logging trail. It was dry under the pines where they had set up camp, but the logging road had flooded over, the water had receded, and now the road was a quagmire of mud steaming in the early morning sun.
They had encountered no major obstacles on the way in. John knew the way. The road was cracked in a few places, flooded in a few others, but only a few inches of water. The major stuff had held off until they had arrived and settled in.
The last few days had bought rain, snow, and what felt like earthquakes or explosions far away. Heavy vibrations they could feel through the pine needle covered ground. No one was sure what they really were, but they were all worried about it.
They had made up their minds late last night, when the rains had stopped to get out of the woods, but the two new trucks they had driven in would not start. John's old truck turned over and started fine. They had spent most of the sunrise checking over the other two trucks, but they found nothing wrong with them. The batteries were up, the starters turned over, but they would not fire. There was no spark at the plug. Scott and Glenn who were both mechanics were puzzled over what could be causing it.
“If we go, most of you will get stuck in the back of my truck... No other way for it,” John said.
They had spent a great deal of the last few days wondering what was going on in the world. Twice, slow moving cargo planes had overflown them. They had seen no markings on the wings, but they had both been painted the olive drab of army equipment. The battery powered radio they had listened to had stopped working. Their wristwatches, cell phones, the two trucks, all dead. They had wondered about a nuclear blast maybe that was what had happened to the electronics.
Scott nodded. “Maybe that is the deal though. Your truck is old, no electronic brain... Maybe we could find another like it... Or two.”
“If it was a nuke, would it knock out electronics like that? And wouldn't we all be sick right now?” Amber asked.
“Not necessarily... If it was it wasn't close, so it would just depend on which way the wind was blowing,” Kate said. “Electronics? Maybe an EMP… I have heard that, but I don't know. Makes me wish I paid attention to all of that apocalypse stuff on the internet,” Scott said.
“A dirty bomb... I think that's what they called it, but it could have been that Yellowstone explosion... I think I read once that an explosion like that could be as bad as a direct hit with a Nuke... Mess things up the same as a nuclear bomb.” Glenn shrugged.
“Electro Magnetic Pulse?” Kate asked.
Dave nodded.
“But they said that would be too far away to affect us,” Ed threw in.
Dave nodded, “Maybe it did, and maybe it didn't. Wouldn't be the first time they said something that turned out to be bullshit.”
“What? You don't trust your own government,” Amber asked in mock surprise.
“Yeah... Well, either way we're back to sticking it out here or going back to Watertown to see what's going on... Or somewhere else for that matter,” John threw out after a few moments of silence.
“I say we go back... Maybe the guard is there, or has been there.” Amber said.
“Can't hide out up here forever,” Ed agreed.
“We'll run out of food... At the least we have to stock back up,” Scott added.
Glenn nodded. “With more too... We don't know how long this is going to be.”
“Or if it still is,” Kate added.
“There is that too,” Glenn agreed.
“At the least then we should go back and stock up. I mean if no one is there, we can stock up, come back here if it's bad and decide what to do... Get on with the old life if there is someone there,” Terry said.
“Who wants the front seat...? Two,” John asked.
“Probably the girls,” Dave said.
“Why is that,” Kate asked.
“What?” Dave asked.
“Why the girls,” She shook her head before he answered. “Well, I'm not a girl. I'm a woman. It was a rough road to become a woman, and I don't want to be called a girl.”
“Hey... Peace. I didn't mean anything by it,” Dave said.
The silence held for a few minutes.
“Well, let's get this place picked up... I guess store everything in the other two trucks... Maybe we'll come back for them,” John said.
“Maybe not,” Glenn added. “So bring what you want to keep, only make it a small amount.”
John nodded.
A half hour later John drove the old truck down the logging road, sticking to four wheel drive and the sides of the road where he could. Twice he had had to make everyone get out and then take a run at a particularly bad section of road before they all climbed in once more. It was late morning before they found route 177. A short time later they turned onto route 11 and headed back toward the small city of Watertown.
Watertown: John and Kate
Late Afternoon
The city was a mess. Buildings toppled, streets blocked off with debris, no power and no people out on the streets that they had seen. It had taken most of the early afternoon to work their way back to Jacob's Superette. They had all wondered more than once why they were bothering to go back there. A place to start, John had finally decided, and everyone had agreed. If they had not left that is probably where they would still be, riding out this disaster.
John had wheeled the truck up next to the closed doors and they had all climbed out of the truck. The doors were closed and reinforced from the inside. Twice they had seen movement behind the stacks and pallets that had been used to barricade the wide and tall front windows, but no one had opened the doors or answered their calls. They had finally decided that even if they did open the doors they didn't want to be there. There were plenty of other places in the city that could offer as much, maybe even more.
“We need better weapons,” Kate said as John drove. She had changed from the back to the front as they were leaving the market. She sat in the center, Glenn on the other side of her.
“Why?” Glenn asked.
“Because that place creeped me out. Who doesn't open up to let someone in? Why did they close it all off? What if they have weapons and decided that not answering us wasn't good enough? What if they had opened up on us? We wouldn't be discussing this now, that's for sure.”
