Begin Again

It was a normal day, just like any other in my life. People were always telling me that I have skill and talent, that I needed to do something serious with my ability. But I was in no hurry to settle down or have a family or anything like a real job. I liked just fooling around with the things that I found pleasing to my eye. Stones and shells, wood carved into rustic shapes, that kind of thing. I had been raised by my grandparents here in the Pacific Northwest and they lived off the land, loved each other and me too I think, but there was no urgency to do much of anything.

That day I had been down in the underpass, under the highway where eight lanes of traffic took folks to the East or to Seattle if going west. In spring this river had fast current from snow melt in the mountains but now it was lazy and not much of a river at all. I was here looking for stones or anything interesting. Suddenly the earth trembled and something like an avalanche occurred. I was left in this pocket of space under the highway but my way out was blocked with rubble.   

I began at once to try to dig my way out, no one knew I was here so there would be no effort at a rescue. I moved rocks and boulders, scooped dirt with my hands until I was exhausted. I lay back trying to think what to do! What did I know? How would I survive? Looking around I decided I had two essentials, water and air.  

Two days later, with bloody hands and torn skin, I saw a crack of light. An hour later, the opening was large enough to wiggle through to the outside. Although exhausted, I hurried up the road, then onto the lane to my home. There is no one around, I call out repeatedly but the hills and forests are silent. In the kitchen I find my grandmother’s paring knife laying in a heap of potato peelings, the peeled potatoes in a pot of water. I run to the shed looking for my grandfather, I find the truck in the garage where it is kept but no one is about.

This is the beginning of my searching and finally concluding that the whole population of these mountain settlements are gone. Moving from small town to small town along the highway I find the area disrupted but not destroyed, vehicles abandoned where they stood, at intersections where the traffic light continued to move from red to yellow and green, cars just sat empty. Baby strollers sat in parks, shopping bags rested on park benches. Bicycles lay at curbsides. It was so weird, the population, gone.

Going back to my grandparents farm, I hope to find them there but the farm stands silent just as I left it. Going into my bedroom, I dig out my camping gear and backpack, I check for matches and flashlight. In the kitchen , I go through the cabinets looking for lightweight, non perishable food, a small pan, things I will need if I must camp. I take my drivers license and my grandpa’s credit card. Throwing it all in the truck, I sure wish there was more gas in the tank. At the end of our lane, I stop before entering the highway, I look toward Seattle and then in the general direction of maybe St. Louis. I turn toward St. Louis thinking maybe I will encounter more people in this direction.

As I go east , the terrain changes from mountains to rolling hills but inevitably the truck sputters, I guide it to the shoulder and the engine chugs to a stop. From now on, I will be on foot as I have passed zero cars, not a single vehicle during this drive. Gathering my belongings from the truck, I stick a note on the window...I am OK, will return soon!

Food was available from the land and in the rivers if you knew what to eat and what to pass up. I thanked my grandma for early lessons on foraging and self sufficiency.

The next day, I arrive at a large river that must be crossed. Nearby is a deserted marina with a variety of boats and floating debris. Calling again with hopes of any answer, silence is my only answer.

I spend the next three days foraging, packaging and bundling everything that I thought could be life sustaining. I choose a medium size boat to try to cross the river, but all of the oars, paddles and anchors have been stored elsewhere. I pull a long pole down from the rafters of the building thinking maybe I can pole toward the middle of the river and allow the strong current to carry me to a sharp bend I see a ways down the river. I hope I can pole out into the current far enough for the current to take me down river where I may snag things on the other side ..fallen trees or other derelict boats...it’s a big gamble.

I go to sleep this night trying to imagine my reaction to all of the possibilities that could occur but I know the river must be crossed.

~~~

Gayle was in the Chicago subway when life as she knew it changed. She was one of many who reacted with panic that day. The subway car had a sudden and immediate stop! No slowing or warning, just a slamming stop! People were thrown about! There were loud questions, bullying directions, opinions on what to do….fragmented groups. The air was getting very bad. Everyone wanted to go up and out. Jumping from the car to the narrow walkway used by repair crews, everyone wanted fresh air, wanted to see the sky, and wanted answers. It was a scene of rude panic!

Gayle had been elbowed off the walkway and down into the track area. Her ankle was badly sprained but she hoped not broken. The groups quickly thinned out. Going different directions but always up. Gayle sat next to a concrete support in the shadows. She was trying to hoard the few things she had with her. A water bottle and some energy wafers and her purse with her usual assortment of too much stuff. She must have slept as when she woke the quiet was profound. No sound except for a quiet sobbing somewhere down the line from her. Her mind was reeling. She knew she must get out of here. She again registers the whimpering of a person giving up hope and moves in that direction.

An elderly lady is laying there in the dirt, her stockings torn and her clothing dirty where she had been trampled. Her legs are badly injured but worse she is bleeding from somewhere under her clothing. I bend to help her and she is suddenly alert, she holds a nail file to defend herself and waves it in my direction. I try to calm her, I tell her we are alone, the others have all gone. Finally she allows me to take her hand. I ask how badly she thinks she is hurt and her reply causes me to shiver. “I’m not going to make it Missy and if you are smart you will go before the rats come out!” Looking quickly around I see no rats but I am sure they are here. She pulls a smaller purse from within her large hand bag. “Here, take this and get out while you can.” It appears to be a small amount of money, a rain poncho, a cigarette lighter and a few more items. I’m trying to decide how to lift her and move her when she gasps, dribble from her lips drip from her chin and she is gone. Poor poor soul to go this way! What now! A rat scurries over my foot and I try to run, limping, toward a tiny light at the tunnel end.

By the time Gayle has hobbled up the many flights of steps, she is breathless and covered with sweat. She is clutching her purse and the small purse given to her by the old lady. She stares at the strange purse realizing this is proof positive that she did not imagine this day.

Looking around her now she is shocked by the silence. No horns blaring, no rude comments or gestures, no overhearing petty arguments of passing folks...just utter silence. She stands frozen! Slowly she turns in a full circle examining the city for life, any life, there is none! Which way to go? What to do? She knows she must decide before night falls. Now she moves along not fast but steady! Her eyes scanning the streets for anything that will help her. Vehicles are backed up at traffic lights and looking over the railing onto the freeway she sees them backed up on the ramps. Quickly she makes her way down the ramp to the cars, two have very little fuel, she looks at two more until finally finding one with a full tank. Getting in she prays the car will start, her ankle is throbbing. Turning the key, the engine roars to life, she pulls around the cars ahead and heads south on the interstate highway. If she can make it far enough she will be in St. Louis. She has an old friend in St. Louis….or maybe not, after today, but she is going there, it feels right.  

There is no traffic to contend with, no rude or crazy drivers, she turns on the radio and it is full of strange static, no help there. Just go fast, make time and get the hell out of here.

She has visited her friend a few times and it is never easy to find. She lives on a houseboat attached to a small finger of land that juts out into the river. She is thinking hard now trying to remember which exit, which turn off, which dark winding bumpy road. Looking at her fuel gauge she is down to a quarter tank but the mileage signs give her real hope of making it.

~~~

Waking before first light, I load everything I have gathered into the boat. I push off with the pole until I am far enough from the bank for the current to take me. Things happen so quickly now, that’s the thing about rivers, you can’t always judge the strength of the current or where the actual channel is even if you know the river. The channel changes as silt and sand builds on the bottom. I stand in the boat with the pole in my hand, ready to push into the far bank if and when I get close enough.

It takes but a few minutes to see my plan is not working, I am being carried along but I remain near the center of the river and I have no control over the boat. I sit here and stare at my provisions, I am dry, have a few days of food, water, matches and a storm jacket I took from the marina. I must ration the supplies until I can find the next place to forage again. Staring out at the passing scenery with little interest, my mind is playing over and over the events of the last few days, everyone just gone! Somehow being under ground saved me but why? or how? I have no idea.  

Drifting like this is all I can do, eating very little and trying to stay awake to be ready if I come upon a place to get out of the river.

Early in the morning of the second day, I awake slowly, a sound has awakened me. At first very confused about where I am and why, now I am suddenly very awake listening to the noise, repeating over and over, like sand against the bottom of the boat, and the rubbing of branches or reeds. Jumping up I see the boat has finally grounded, out of the fast current of the river, it is in a wide marsh, but now I have hope to control the boat again even if just marginally.  Again the silence grabs my attention, there is no sound except the movement of the boat against the reeds and with the sunrise, I realize again that I am alone in this world, perhaps the last human alive.  

Using the pole, I move the boat along the slough. A few abandoned camps and shacks along the shore but no people, and no easy access to go ashore. Finally ahead I see a houseboat that I can draw up next to, check it out for people or maybe supplies. The boat feels abandoned, no sounds of life or people. I force open a window and slip into the cabin. It is modern and well kept. Someone has been here and not too long ago. Food in the refrigerator, still cold, running water, even a bathroom, I imagine a warm shower and a real bed. Going back out now I gather my gear and supplies from the boat and bring them into the house boat, a meal, a shower and then look for a map to figure out where I am.

~~~

As the car sputters it’s last and dies, she is glad to have gotten off at her exit and to have found the winding bumpy road to her friend’s houseboat, now she is on foot. A more true statement has never been said as she is unable to put much weight on her injured ankle. She has little to carry so she slings her purse over her shoulder and heads down the little used road. She can’t remember how far the boat is but her mind is full of hopeful thoughts of finding her friend there with some answers of what on earth is going on. Making slow progress, avoiding ruts and rocks she is muttering to herself. Talking to herself really, but aloud, she craves the human voice, she thinks of how normal it is to hear bits and pieces of human conversation...this silence is unnerving and even hearing her own voice is appealing.

~~~

In the houseboat, I have eaten, found a dated navigation map and decided a couple possible locations where I may be with the limited amount I can see around me. I’m studying the control panel for the engines, checking the battery level and how the boat works. Deep in thought, I am totally totally shocked to hear a voice! A real voice! I duck down, hoping not to be seen! A woman’s voice, talking but no second voice responding! A person talking to herself, complaining! I am astounded! And then…..

“Hello the houseboat!, Karen? Are you aboard?”

Finally I find my courage to stand so she can see me, I wave so I hope I look friendly. She seems confused and so I open the sliding door and join her on the shore.

Hello, I’m Adam and I have been lost on the river, that’s my boat there in the reeds and I was hopeful to find some help here but there is no one here.

She looks me over trying to decide if I am a threat and finally responds with, “yes hello, I’m Gayle and from what I’ve seen most everyone is gone, I can’t explain it but,” At this point the stress of all that has happened reaches her and she crumples to the ground sobbing! “I wanted Karen to be here so badly, for everything to be a bad dream, but now my fear has returned stronger than ever!”

I help her up and get her aboard the houseboat. We spend the afternoon each telling the story of their day. How they discovered they were alone. Trying to reason out the why of what had happened. They sit quietly for a long time.   

Gayle says quietly, “I can tell you no one remains in Chicago and I saw no one from Chicago to St. Louis. I tell her no one was left where I came from and I too have encountered no one in four days until her, here now! “Can we be the only two who survived whatever happened?” We talk for several hours trying to glue together thoughts and minor facts to form a new reality.  

As we talked together, we shared the same questions. Why did you decide to go this direction? I replied, “I hoped for more towns, more folks!” And Gayle’s reason, “She had no clue but as she looked around she noticed leaves changing on trees and decided if this was going to take awhile to figure out or resolve, she wanted to be in summer, not winter.” Already I began to trust her inherent intelligence and her solid approach to the problem. I think for the first time in my life I wished I had spent more time doing and less time dreaming as I had no idea what to do next. I hoped she did not expect me to take charge.

I pointed to the map and she firmly placed her finger on the spot where we were. Yes looking again, I too could clearly see she was correct.   

And so….we know where we are. Our houseboat systems are working for now but we have no idea about the future. We are beginning to actually accept this new reality but somewhere in our minds we both reason that if we survived, somewhere there must be others! We would need to try to find more like us!

Or? Or?  “Or what?” Gayle questions.

Or! I am already Adam and you can be Eve! We begin again!