It’s End of the World As We Know It

It’s End of the World

As We Know It

By LuAnn Williamson

“It’s End of the World As We Know It” Miranda sang at the top of her voice, blond hair blowing the wind from four windows that needed to be hand cranked as she drove along the highway. She was one of the few cars on that stretch of the highway, only having spotted a 60’s Bel Air station wagon several miles back, waiting at a stop sign, a pair of old ladies in the front seat and luggage piled high in the back.

Miranda drove a cherry red mustang she inherited from her Grandmother. Grandma Jones had bought it brand new, straight from the factory in 1975 with the money she’d received as a college graduation present from her Grandparents.

The tape in the cassette player was in the box she’d impulsively grabbed from pile of things from her Grandparents house that needed to be sorted. She’d gone out there to grab some of the camping supplies and survival food.

When the EMP pulse had struck, she’d been getting ready to go to school, shoveling the last of the frosted flakes into her mouth. At first, it seemed like a power failure. The lights had winked off, the dishwasher stopped in mid cycle. Annoyed, she switched on the solar powered radio. Static until she reached a station that blasted the Emergency Broadcast System alert tones.

“This is not good,” she said to Bert, the Chocolate Lab, who usually lay at her feet, hoping for any food that happened to be dropped his way. But Bert was on full alert, long tail erect but not sure of which direction to point. He turned in a slow circle, ears pricked up as if listening to something she could not hear.

“Scientists are unsure of the origin of the EMP, which stands for Electro Magnetic Pulse, but they are in almost total agreement that is what occurred.

Officials are encouraging the public to shelter in place. If you are at home, stay at home, if you are at work, stay there until you receive further instructions.”

The voice droned on and on.

Miranda took stock of her situation. Her parents were at their cabin near Boone Lake. They’d both been able to score a Friday off on the same day and decided to drive up there to “open up the cabin for the summer.” Not that it was ever really closed. Memories of several winters spent at the cabin for Christmas ran through her mind. Sometimes they’d be joined by Aunts and Uncles and Cousins and the place had been packed with assorted kids in sleeping bags.

From the broadcasts and from her own knowledge, she was sure the power would be off for several days to several weeks, even years. The cabin, with its wood burning stove and kerosene lanterns, seemed to be the best place to wait out the social unrest that was sure to follow.

Out in the garage, she’d started up her Mustang, which roared to life and settled down to a contented purr. OK, horses didn’t purr and that’s where the metaphor failed. Turning off the engine to save gas, she quickly packed a few of her clothes into the suitcase under the bed, brought out her to-go bag from the closet and struggled down the stairs.

Leaving a note for her parents, or any other family members that came there, she made it in code. Maybe they were a bit paranoid, but that came with being not-quite survivalists, but close to it.

The note read, “I’ve gone out for some ice cream. Be back soon, love Miranda.  PS, I took Bert with me”

She quickly loaded up her tent, as much freeze dried food as she could and a few tools they kept packed for a time like this

Bert hopped into the front seat. 

.Once on the road, she realized that her problems were just beginning. The streets were clogged with the modern cars that were stalled wherever they were at the moment of the pulse.

It took some careful maneuvering, driving the wrong way down a few streets, some backtracking, a detour through a few parking lots and even some over the lawn driving to get free. 

Three young men in clothes that said ‘wanna be thugs,” came strolling up to the car with pistols drawn.  Miranda’s heart sank. If she lost the car, she lost hope of rescuing herself and reuniting with her family. Thinking fast, she tried to remember how to do a bootlegger’s turn, It was something she’d only read about in a survival book. 

Luck was with her this time, though she vowed not to press that luck. The looks on their faces were priceless. One bullet grazed the bumper, the other’s flying wild. She caught a glimpse of a window shattering in her rear view mirror.

“Was that you, Grandma? Looking out for me?” She said aloud, glancing at the sky before she realized that her full attention needed to be focused on her driving. Bert thumped his tail against the back of the seat.

Now she was free of the city and its congestion. The few vehicles were easy to spot and easy to avoid.

She spotted something many feet ahead. It looked human.  As she drove closer, foot off the gas, it turned out to be human. She caught a glimpse of black hair against fair skin and tight fitting blue jeans complete with cowboy hat. His thumb was sticking out.

“Damn, he’s cute, she told Bert. She slowed down to take a closer look.

Everything her parents told, everything the books she’d read, everything people told her, warned against picking up hitch hikers; even drop-dead, breath catching in your throat, heart beating faster, hitch hikers.

“We can’t leave him out here, all by himself,” she told Bert. “Who knows what would happen to him? Maybe the wolves would eat him.”

Her foot pressed hard on the brakes. She spotted the very large shot gun slung over his shoulder. She was very tempted to put on the gas and leave him behind in her dust. But it was shouldered, not threatening. Besides, she had her own pistol in her handbag and one stashed under the front seat.

She lowly backed up, wobbling a little as she tried to keep the car steady. As she stopped, he ran the last few feet.

He hesitated as his hand reached the door and saw the dog in the front seat. 

“We may have to sort some of this stuff to leave some of it behind.  If you say one word about leaving my dog alone in the wilderness, I will drive off and leave you eating my dust.

“Girl, that dog and that car are currently the lost valuable things you own, even if you have a trunk full of diamonds.”

“No diamonds, just cubic zirconium ear studs,” Miranda touched her ear lobes. “I must’ve left my diamonds in my Mercedes.” She laughed.

She got out of the car, turning it off so she could use the key in the trunk. No popping the trunk with your keychain on this baby.

“Where’s your house so I can stash this stuff? She asked, noticing his dimples for the first time.

“About 3 miles down a dirt road,” he grinned and Miranda’s heart did a quick flip. “You can stash it behind the hay bales over there.” He pointed to a few giant, round hay bales still standing in the field. “Nobody would see anything unless they are really looking for it. And I doubt that anybody will come looking.”

“How will I find it again when I come looking for it?”

“Mile marker 286,” he gestured lazily. He pulled a pen out of his pocket and wrote it on his palm. He gestured to her hand. She put her hand in his and felt a little shiver of excitement. He wrote the location on her palm. She giggled.

“Ticklish?” he asked.

“For me to know and maybe, someday, you can find out,” she teased. She looked at his eyes, dark brown under a dark brown Stetson.

Quickly, she pulled out the tent. “Won’t need this at the cabin,” she contemplated the boxes. “Emergency meals number seven.”

“You number your boxes?’

“Don’t you?” she snapped back. “One is the oldest…”

He took the supply boxes number six and seven and stashed them in the sheltered side of the bales.

Miranda rearranged the other supply boxes, stacking them higher in the back seat. “I doubt we’ll run afoul of the cops on this trip.”

“Thank you for the ride. I’m glad that someone stopped. And such a beautiful girl, that’s even better.”

“I’m Miranda,” she shook his hand before shifting the car into gear with a jolt.”

“Are you showing off for me?”

“Maybe…”

“Watch this,” she pushed hard on the accelerator. The car sped off down the highway.

“I’m Jacob, Jake to my friends.” He ran his hand over the leather dash.

“I’ve always wanted to drive one of these old muscle cars. Any change I can?”

 “Not if you were the last man on Earth…” she teased. “And I don’t think we’re there yet.”

“Does your boyfriend know you’re picking up strange men? What would he say about that?”

“I don’t know. If I had one, I’d ask him,” she quipped. “Seriously, I’m still in mourning. We lost my Grandmother last winter and I haven’t felt much like going out.” She caught a glimpse of him as she drove on. “What about you? What would your girlfriend say?”

“I don’t have one either. She broke up with me when I told her I was going to study in Chicago. She wanted me to stay on the farm. My parents even offered to pay her tuition to the University. I figure that if we couldn’t work it out over college, we wouldn’t work in real life. It’s best we stay friends.”

“Where are you from?” Miranda asked her new passenger.

“Our farm is about three miles down a county road from where you picked me up.”

“You walked?”

“It’s only three miles, an afternoon stroll.” He winked. “Not a damned vehicle worked, not even the garden tractor. Damned EMP!”

“Where are your parents?”

“Chicago. They were there helping get my Grandmother’s house ready to sell. It’s certain that she’ll be in assisted living from now on. My Aunt Sarah and Uncle Walt are keeping a loose eye on me. I’m here for the summer to work the farm, then off to college. We didn’t realize that for most of the time, I’d be in charge.”

They rode in silence for a few miles.

“I’m heading to my Aunt and Uncle’s farm,” he began again, “Then off to Chicago to find my parents.”

“Why don’t I take you to the farm so you can check in with your family? Then you can come to the cabin with me. You can get dinner; spend the night if you don’t mind a sleeping bag on the floor. You can stay a few days if you want.”

“Sounds good,” he grinned and her heart melted. “I just might try that.”