Day 63

DAY 63

Day 1:  Okay, I think that I should probably write down what’s happening. This morning I woke up the way that I usually do—late, around ten o’clock. I’m the night owl in our family, Charlie the early-to-bed guy. After I finished showering and dressing I went downstairs, but Charlie wasn’t there. I didn’t remember him saying that he had anything planned for that day, so I looked around—not in the basement, not in the backyard, not in the garage, but his truck was. I was confused, but not overly concerned. Maybe he’d gone out for a walk—possible, but highly unlikely. Maybe he was visiting the neighbours. More likely. He was around here, somewhere. Right?  

I sat down to start my day the way that I usually do—a cup of tea and my games. I’m a fan of the New York Times game platform. Weirdly, today’s new puzzles weren’t uploaded yet, just yesterday’s puzzles, which I’d already solved. I opened the newspaper platforms that I read daily—one local, one national, one international—but they only showed yesterday’s news, as well. Odd, I thought.

I texted our daughter, Rachel. She’s pretty tech savvy, maybe she’d know what’s going on. No reply. Not unexpected, though. She and Dylan were busy people with busy lives.  

Still no Charlie, so I texted him, as well. His phone chimed beside his chair in the family room. Annoying but, again, not unusual. Charlie doesn’t like having to always be in touch. He assumes that if something’s really important, they’ll contact me instead.  

I went out front to see if Charlie was chatting up John, our neighbour. That’s when I knew something was terribly wrong. Not a soul in sight. Cars on the road, but no divers. Most had crashed. But no people. Not a single person.  

What was going on?

And where was Charlie? I had that sinking feeling in my stomach. I went to the neighbours’ house and banged on the door. No answer. I went to all the neighbours’ homes and banged on their doors with the same result. I started to panic. Where was everybody? 

I called every number in my phone, without a single answer.  

I felt like the only person in the world. My rational brain said that wasn't possible, but my eyes told me another story.  

What about our daughter? I needed to see if Rachel, Dylan and the boys, Declan and Dallas were okay. I hopped into my car and headed out. They live about half an hour away, but it took me three times that long as I had to keep going around crashes. Because I’m a trained nurse, I also checked all the cars in case anyone was injured. But there were no people, just wrecked cars.

I knew Rachel and Dylan’s house would be empty the moment I arrived. Their neighbourhood was no different from my own—no people, abandoned cars, and an eerie emptiness. I let myself into their home, hoping … I called out, but was only greeted by their two dogs, Winnie and Luna, two foster-fails Rachel, Dylan and the boys had adopted into their family.  

I wandered around the house. I looked in the fridge. The boys’ lunches were sitting front and centre, waiting to be taken to school. I went upstairs, the dogs following.

In the bedrooms, beds were unmade, and phones were plugged in on bedside tables. Not one person in that family would be anywhere without their phone. Fear gnawed at my belly. Back downstairs, I checked the garage and found both cars were still there.  

My family wasn’t anywhere to be found. They were gone. Like Charlie. Like everyone in the world. I loaded the dogs and all their paraphernalia into my car, and scribbled a note, “Have dognapped Winnie and Luna (haha).”  We headed back home. In my heart-of-hearts, I knew that no one was ever going to read that note.  

When the dogs and I arrived home, my neighbourhood was strangely silent in the dusk. But there were lights on, so I pounded on those doors. Again, no answer. Just the barking of dogs waiting for their humans to come home.

Day 2: Last night was extremely hard. I was more frightened than I had ever been in my entire life. I wasn’t afraid of what was out there in the night, but what wasn’t out there—people. I eventually fell asleep crying, and only woke when Winnie licked me awake. 

At the exact moment of waking I didn’t remember yesterday. Charlie and the kids were still here. The young couple beside us were still arguing about everything. The neighbour on the other side was still obsessing about his lawn. I still had a standing lunch date with my friends from work. Life was as it had always been. Then I remembered, and reality came crashing back. I was alone. Sobbing, I hugged the dogs. They were now my only companions.  

Luna leaned into me for for some head scritches.  I smiled. At least they were safe with me, and I felt safer having them with me. I thought about all the barks that I had heard from the other houses. All those pets locked inside, with no way out. I grabbed a small hammer, and headed out. Winnie and Luna followed. 

I went from house to house, “letting” myself in. I was surprised at the number of homes that weren’t locked. The first thing I did was let the dogs out into the backyard to do their business. I left the door back into the house open so that dogs and cats could come and go at will. Then I fed the animals and left the bag of food on the floor, so they would at least be able to feed themselves. Because the water was still flowing, I filled up tubs and sinks so that there would be water for the pets. I was certain most pets would die, but at least they wouldn’t starve to death trapped inside their homes.

It occurred to me that I would have a lot of explaining to do if, miraculously everyone returned. I’d take that over the status quo.

I was exhausted when I got home. I fed the dogs, and made myself something to eat. I had no idea how long the electricity or water would continue to work before the grid shut down, so I showered and washed my hair while I still could.

Day 3: The dogs and I spent the whole day liberating as many pets as we could. And I cried a lot. My emotions changed rapidly from hopeless, to frightened, to hopeful, to anger, then back to hopeless. I had to face the fact that I was alone. This was my new reality. I’d always been a bit of an introvert—I found too much stimulation exhausting—but this was beyond the pale. No one was coming back. I was on my own.  I needed to start making plans. 

I noticed smoke on the horizon this morning. A fire burning unchecked because here was not one to fight it any more. How long before it was my neighbourhood? My street? My house? Homes in my area were heated with natural gas. One leak, one spark, and the whole neighbourhood would be destroyed.

Plus, winter was coming. Winters here are no joke here—freezing cold temperatures, wind chill, blizzards, ice storms—weather that can kill.

I was going to have to leave my home. I loved my home. Charle and I had raised Rachel in this house. We’d renovated, decorated, landscaped, and made it our own. But once the grid went down, I needed to be able to heat my home. Without a fireplace, I’d freeze to death. I also needed a home with a well for water. I needed a house equipped with a hard wired generator to pump water from that well. I wanted to be be in a place where I wouldn’t freeze to death. And sadly, this was not that house.

But where could I go? And how would I get there?

Day 4: Sleeping at night is getting a little easier, but the dogs still growl at every noise. And I’m crying just a little less, too. 

Now that I’ve made the decision to leave, I have to make a plan.  

I’m going to take Charlie’s truck. It’s a big, honking Ram 2500 equipped with a winch, which will help if there's a crashed car blocking my way. She's bit of a gas hog, though, but Charlie, bless soul wherever he is, has a siphon pump that will help me solve my gasoline dilemma.  There are a number of jerrycans for gas in the garage, as well. 

I don’t need much when travelling because I’ve got every store in the world to get new stuff. I just need my memories. I spent much of my day compiling all my photos and videos to take with me. There are so many things I can’t bring with me, but these I can.  

Day 5:  I drank too much last night. One glass of wine turned into another, and another, and another. Leaving this place, my home for so many years, hurts too much. I wandered around through the different rooms, remembering … so many memories. Maybe once I settle in my new home, I’ll come back for some of my stuff. Unless the house burns to the ground. Or is invaded by animals. Or just disappears, like every person in my life.

We were on the road by seven this morning. But not until I spray-painted a big sign on the garage doors, “HEADNG SOUTH.” I don’t expect anyone other than the the pack of dogs that now roam my neighbourhood to see it. But you never know.

The dogs—my dogs—are taking all the changes in their lives very well. There’s still a bit of whining and I think Luna is a bit depressed, but Winnie is ever eager to go on to our next adventure.  

We stopped at dusk in a little town in Pennsylvania. Earlier, when we crossed into the States, it was almost surreal that the border crossing is now no more than an empty bridge spanning the Niagara River. I did have to smash through the barrier gate with the truck to get to the other side. Sorry, Charlie.   

A big transport truck had crashed through the side of the bridge on the American side, and was just hanging off the edge. I wonder how long until gravity wins, and it tumbles into the river?

I think every one disappeared during the night. I say that because there were far fewer cars on the road than I expected, and travelling is not as bad as it could be. I would say that was lucky, but was it?

We chose a small hotel to stay the night. I couldn’t bear the thought of staying in someone’s home. I know that I’m going to have to eventually use someone else’s home as my own, but not yet.  

The town still has electricity, so I used the attached cafe to cook some dinner for the dogs and me. I also cooked extra food for travelling. It occurred to me that I don’t have any way to transport the food. Although it’s early fall, it’s still warm during the day, so I needed to keep the food cool. That sent me to the local TSC store for my first larceny. I smashed the front door with my trusty hammer, and let myself in. I found what I needed in aisle eight.  I also helped myself to a camp stove and a couple of twenty-pound propane bottles, a couple of cases of water, a hatchet, some boots, and a three of blankets for the dogs. By the time I finished raiding the store I was exhausted.  

Day 6: Heading south. I found that I can get gas from any car anytime. The benefits of being the only person alive?  

Day 9: We’ve been driving forever, but I think we’ve found our new home—at least for now. It’s just outside of Nashville and meets all of our needs. It has everything we want—a fireplace, a well, a generator.  It’s surrounded by a high wire fence, that looks like its electrified. I’ve come to think of our new home as “the compound.”

The person who owns—owned—this house was a prepper, and the house reflected that. There’s an entire basement filled with enough supplies to last a very long time. There’s even a composting toilet and grow lights for growing my own food. Plus there are two ATVs, a motorcycle, and a huge vehicle called a Unimog for going off grid. And the keys were with the vehicles, so score!

Day 10: We explored the area around the house. We’re pretty isolated out here, on the shores of a small lake. I found a huge gasoline storage tank, full, behind the house. This guy thought of everything! 

I searched through his papers, and found that the house belongs to Buck and Nancy Winters, members of the NRA, a local militia group, and members in good standing with Tennessee Preppers Association. Their paranoia is my gain.

Day 17: Finding my new home wasn’t the panacea I thought it would be. I’m not sure what I expected once my immediate needs were met, but it wasn’t this. I’m lonely. And I’m sad. And I’m pissed off. Why was I left behind? Why me? And what am I doing all this for? To save humankind? Definitely not me. I’m a woman in my sixties. I can’t have kids. And if I could, who would I have them with? Why am I prolonging my inevitable demise? Maybe I should have stayed home, and frozen to death in my own home.

Day 33:  Buck and Nancy were firm believers in their second amendment rights. I found an arsenal of guns squirrelled away all over the house. There are probably even more in the three locked gun safes in the basement, but I don’t have the combination, so locked they shall stay. Buck and Nancy had all of the user manuals for the different guns, so I’m learning how to shoot and maintain the weapons. I think some of the Nashville Zoo animals managed to escape because I’m pretty sure I saw a polar bear at the lake a few days ago. And there have been giant paw prints outside the compound. Something has been prowling the perimeter. And just like home, there are packs of not-so-friendly dogs roaming around.

So, I need to learn to shoot for our protection. But for now, the electrified fence is keeping the animals out, and keeping us safe.

Day 52: Luna’s dead. We were in town, getting some antibiotics for an infected cut on my right hand—a wood chopping accident. We were walking up to the pharmacy, when a tiger—a God-damned tiger!—jumped down on us, knocking me to the ground. Before I could get my gun out, Luna and Winnie jumped into action, attacking the tiger. But it was bigger and faster, and swatted poor Luna, breaking her neck. She died instantly. I shot at the tiger. It ran away, but I know I hit it because there was a trail of blood. I hope it dies. It killed my dog.

Day 55: Winnie is beside herself with grief. I miss, Luna as well. What a shitty life!

Day 63: I was sure that today was gong to be my last day on earth. I couldn’t take the loneliness anymore. I haven’t spoken to another person for sixty-three days. My existance is pointless.  

Being a coward, I headed into town to help myself to some good red wine, and sleeping pills for both Winnie and I. But, as I was leaving the liquor store, I saw some movement from the corner of my eye. Winnie started growling. Fearing another deadly encounter with another dangerous animal, I drew my gun, turning towards the movement. 

But it wasn’t an animal. It was a child. A little girl. A very dirty, very skinny little girl of about ten.

“Hi there,” I said, holstering my gun. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”

She looked at me from behind an abandoned car, saying nothing.

“My name’s Natalie.” I said, smiling. “I’m really happy to see you. Do you want to be my friend?” She nodded. “What’s your name?” I asked.

She stood up, looking at me. “Marie,” she said.

“Good to meet you, Marie.” I said, still smiling. “I’m so glad to have a new friend.”