End Days Super Boxset (175 page)

***

“I'm so glad you made it out of that school safely,” Christina said to Gabrielle. Tobias and Paula had left the room moments before to pack.

“So you guys are going out of town?” Gabrielle asked.

“Yeah, we're going to visit family,” Christina said.

“With everything going on right now?” She stopped and pulled a sleek iPhone from her designer purse. “This stupid phone is driving me crazy.”

“We don’t know what’s going on,” Christina said.

Terrance and Richie entered the room. Gabrielle immediately got up, making room for Terrance to sit.

“No, no, please,” Terrance said. She slowly sat back down as Richie smiled at her.

“I talked to Richie, and we're on the same page now,” Terrance said.

“Good,” Christina said.

“There is one thing, though,” Richie said, stepping forward. “Gabrielle gets to go with us.”

Christina's face dropped. “What?” she asked.

“I told him we would ask you first and see what you thought,” Terrance said.

Christina looked around the room in a bemused daze. “The hell with what I think, did either of you two bother asking Gabrielle first?”

“Well, I haven't gotten a chance to ask her yet,” Richie said, looking down. He lifted his head and looked Gabrielle in the eyes. “So what do you say? My family is going to Milledgeville. Wanna come?”

“Hold on a minute—” Christina began.

Gabrielle looked at each of them nervously as she felt their eyes focusing on her. “I—I don't know. For how long?”

“A week,” Richie answered.

“We don't know that just yet,” Terrance said.

“Hold on!” Christina said, rising from the couch. “Gabrielle has her own family. If she's going anywhere with us, it'll only be with her parents’ permission.”

“Believe me, her mom won't mind,” Richie said.

“Richie, I don't know,” Gabrielle said.

“Tell her, Dad. Tell Gabby about the world war and all that stuff.” Richie walked closer to her and held her arms. “They want to go to some hideout they have in Milledgeville. They said there's gonna be riots and all these things. You can go with us though. That's what I told them. I said the only way I was going was if you were there too.”

Gabrielle rubbed the temples of her forehead. “It's just so much to think about. Maybe I should talk to my mom first.”

“The only way you're going is if I speak to your mom personally and make sure it's OK,” Christina added.

“That's impossible. She hasn't even see her mom in, what, a few days?” Richie said.

Christina turned to Gabrielle to address her. “Gabrielle, we can take you to your house in the van. It's a bit dangerous to be out on the road right now, but eventually we can do it. When we go there, I can talk to your mother and make sure it's OK.”

Gabrielle was hesitant. Richie stood up, took her by the hand, and did the talking. “It's not gonna work like that. Look, you guys go to your bug-out house. I'm staying with Gabby at her place.”

“
Your
family needs you,” Christina said. “Enough of this foolishness.” Richie walked past Terrance to the foyer with Gabrielle in hand. “Where are you going?” Christina continued.

Richie turned at the door. “We're leaving. Drop me a line when you get back.” Richie opened the door as he pulled his shaken girlfriend outside with him.

“Get back here!” Terrance shouted.

The door shut, and with it, Richie and his girlfriend were gone. Terrance looked to Christina. “Well, go get him,” she said.

Terrance fled the living room and went outside. There were even more wanderers than before, aimlessly moving around the neighborhood in various levels of shock. Richie had made it about ten feet down the sidewalk before Terrance yelled to him from the curb.

“Richie! This is your last chance. You get back in this house before it's too late.”

Richie said nothing in response, pulling Gabby along at a hurried pace.

Terrance his anger rising. “When you come back here, we're gonna be gone. By then it'll be too late. Don't say I didn't warn you!”

Richie was soon out of sight as the sidewalk curved around and into another street. Several people from the neighborhood looked at Terrance, his yelling drawing their attention. He stood there quietly, thinking what to do. He had a few options available. He could chase after Richie in a fury, get him in a headlock, and drag him back to the house. He could follow them in the van, throw Richie in, and tie him up like a kidnapping. Or he could go back inside and tell Christina that they would have to go to Milledgeville without him.

Terrance had dropped Richie off at Gabrielle's house once before, but struggled to remember where the girl lived. In a way, Terrance believed that his son would be all right. Richie was almost eighteen. Terrance knew, however, that no matter the reason, Christina would hold him accountable for him running away. He walked back into their home as late afternoon approached to tell her the news.

Monday, September 21, 2020, 6:30 p.m., Savannah,
Georgia

Mark and Janice packed their luggage tight, as if they were going on an extended vacation. Janice had written her own packing list as Mark grabbed whatever he could fit in. The sun had gone down, and with it came darkness inside their house. The bedroom was lit by a few candles on their dresser and nightstand. Mark and Janice understood prepping. They knew they had to take action following the power outage. Mark was certain, much like Terrance and Christina, that their neighborhood wasn't safe anymore and that it would only be a matter of time before things imploded.

They were prepared to flee to the bug-out house, but for how long? While they both regularly practiced awareness, the power outage took them by surprise, just like everyone else. The unexpected nature of the event led them to discover how truly unprepared they actually were. Most of the food they had been storing in the cellar had expired. There were plenty of canned and pickled items, as well as dried fruits and preserved meats, but most of it had been stored for over a year. They initially put a lot of work into it, but that enthusiasm soon wore off, leaving them with a large supply of expired and useless food items.

Mark, a car salesman, and Janice, a representative at a temp agency, both had busy schedules and overlooked their food supply. They hadn't cycled through their food for some time. The food in the fridge wouldn't last more than a few days. They had no idea if the grocery stores were open and if anything would be left. The blackout was a recipe for looting and rioting, and both Mark and Janice knew it. For the time being, they were in the relative safety of their home.

They were relieved to have the Milledgeville bug-out house as a backup safe house. They may not have kept up with their food supply, but they had plenty of cash. They weren't wealthy; it was quite the opposite. They had been putting money aside in case of emergencies. The cash, along with their passports, birth certificates, and important documents, was stored in a small biometric safe hidden in their closet.

They also had a box of silver coins that Mark had invested in over the years. The idea was that silver, like gold, retained its value if inflation or hyperinflation were to hit the economy. At the very least, Mark would use silver as a bartering tool in times of financial crisis. With their bank accounts inaccessible, along with those of thousands of others, things couldn't have been more troubling. Their modest cash savings totaled around $5,000. As emergency cash, it would come quite in handy. It took discipline to avoid spending it when they ran into financial difficulty in the past. With the power out, credit and debit cards rendered useless, it was imperative to have cash; Mark was glad that he had never raided the safe when he and Janice were just scraping by.

“Make sure to bring everything in the safe,” Janice told Mark as she folded her clothes neatly into her large leather suitcase. It was as if she were reading his mind.

“I'm on it,” Mark said, kneeling at the safe door in the closet. He pressed his finger on the biometric sensor and opened it. The contents were just as he remembered leaving them. The cash was sealed in a large manila mailing envelope, as were their passports. A small box contained their silver coins. Mark took out everything and closed the safe door.

“Thank God we have cash on-hand. Everything in our accounts, for the moment, is gone,” Mark said, barely comprehending his own words. He walked to the bed where his suitcase sat open and placed the items from the safe inside a black backpack lying next to it.

“I don't even want to think of what's going to happen to ATMs,” Janice said. “Or the banks in general.”

“Well, the banks only have so much cash,” Mark said, tossing some clothes aside. “I wouldn't go near one right now, though.”

Janice zipped up her suitcase and then held up her list to examine it with a mini-flashlight in the darkness of their candlelit room. She set the list down on her nightstand and looked to Mark. “So we're really leaving.”

“Is that a question?”

“No, I'm just thinking it over. Is our house going to be safe?”

“It will be after we board it up,” Mark said while stuffing some shirts into the suitcase.

Janice looked at him cockeyed. “Are you serious? When exactly did you plan on leaving?” she asked.

“Late. We'll go when the streets clear. We can't risk being mobbed.”

“Yeah, but it's a two-, almost three-hour drive. You'll be exhausted. You might kill us on the road.”

“I've got a solution. We can split the tasks. I'll drive to Milledgeville, and you can board up the windows.”

Janice frowned and stared at Mark sternly without blinking.

“I'm only kidding, all right?” Mark said with his arms out.

Janice wasn't amused. “This is no time to joke around,” she asked.

“What am I going to do, sit around and cry? How about you lighten up some?”

Janice crossed her arms together. Her lips formed a straight line. “I'm perfectly fine, thanks. Remember, leaving is your idea. Not mine.”

“It's an EMP, Janice. I'm just trying to keep us safe.”

“I understand that. But I need to know exactly where your head is at. Have you really thought this entire thing through?”

Mark took Janice's hand in his, trying to calm her. “I don't have all the answers.”

“I don't need all the answers. I just need you to be open with me.”

“I'm trying to,” Mark answered.

Janice backed away and sat on the bed. “I think we need a long-term strategy here. Let's talk for a minute.”

Mark walked over the dresser where a candle had gone out. He picked up another one still burning nearby and used it to light the one that had gone out, using the brief moment to get his thoughts together. At Janice's insisting, he came back to the bed and sat next to her.

“How long do you think this will last?” she asked.

“The EMP?”

“Everything. The power. Cars not working. All of this,” she said.

“I can only estimate,” Mark said.

“What's your estimate? A week? A month?” Janice paused. “A year?”

“It shouldn't last any longer than a month, but I'm not sure. It'll take a while before everything goes back to normal,
if
it goes back to normal.”

“If?” Janice asked.

Mark put his arm around Janice and held her. “If you want to tough it out here instead of going to the bug-out house, I’m open to other ideas, you know.”

“Yeah, but the supermarkets, they'll be cleaned out in a few days. I don't see any police. We're defenseless here. I don't think we have a choice,” Janice said.

“We'll figure something out,” Mark said.

Janice rested her head on his shoulder. A cool breeze from the open window blew gently through the air, agitating the flames on the dripping candles. “I say we give it a week.”

“A week?” Mark asked.

“A week at the bug-out house,” she said.

Mark slowly rose from the bed and rubbed his hand together. “In that case, let’s hope for the best.”

Mark worked through the night nailing plywood over every window in their modest two-bedroom, two-story home. Janice lent a hand, shuttering with each nail he put into their once-nice window frames. The house was being sealed off like a tomb. Their bug-out car was parked in the driveway and with it boxes of supplies from the cellar: batteries, flashlights, Kerosene lanterns, water bottles, antibiotics, gauze, purifying tablets, hygiene products, some books, magazines, and playing cards.

Janice left Mark and went outside to get some fresh air. She walked to the end of the driveway and looked around their street as Mark's hammering rang out throughout neighborhood. There were people in dark homes sitting by candlelight; others were standing outside, unsure of what to do. She thought of their kind, elderly neighbor next door, Mr. Harper, and wondered how he was holding up. The hammering continued, and she worried about the attention it was bringing them. Their neighbors from across the street, Doug and Mary, peered out their windows and looked directly at her. She walked back to the front porch quickly out of view.

Houses without power were aligned like dominoes down the street of their neighborhood. Some families had gathered outside their yards. Children waved flashlights into the air. She heard voices, followed by laughter. After being stripped of every ounce of normalcy around them, from cars, to cell phones, to the multiple flat-screen televisions in nearly every room of every house, the neighborhood seemed to be celebrating. They looked like they were having fun.

They made fires in their front yards and began to grill burgers and hot dogs. She could smell the delicious aroma drifting through the air. It looked like a block party, something she had never seen in her neighborhood during the five years she and Mark had lived there. The hammering from inside continued. Suddenly, a voice called out to her from behind.

“Janice, that you?” the elderly voice said. She turned around, startled. It was Mr. Harper from next door. He leaned on his cane and squinted at her though his glasses.

“Mr. Harper, so nice to see you,” Janice said with a smile.

“Looking great, as always,” Mr. Harper said.

“Thank you. How are you?” Janice asked.

“Me? Doing fine, I suppose. Hammering from your house woke me up, so I come out here to see what all the fuss is about.”

Janice placed her hands to her face. “Oh, I'm so sorry. Mark is almost done. He shouldn't be much longer.”

“What's he doing over there, building a deck?” Mr. Harper asked.

“Something like that,” Janice said.

Mr. Harper nodded and looked around. “Looks like an old-fashioned neighborhood barbecue. Haven't seen anything quite like it in years.”

“I haven’t seen anything like this ever.”

“That reminds me, you guys got power back in your house yet?” Mr. Harper asked, pushing up the bill of his hat.

Janice looked up at her house. Its front windows were completely blocked by plywood. “Not yet. Hopefully it's not too much longer.”

“Good, I can barely see around the house. Almost fell down the stairs when I got out of bed.”

Janice's face soured. She didn't like the idea of Mr. Harper being alone in his house or alone overall. Things were amicable now between neighbors, but the hot dogs and hamburgers wouldn't last forever.

“Why don't you come with us?” Janice asked.

He looked at her in absolute confusion. “Huh? What are ya' talking about?”

“Mark and I. We’re taking a little road trip, just until things blow over. You should come with us. You're not safe here.”

Mr. Harper took a step back, again not understanding what Janice was talking about. “Thanks, Janice. Think I'll be OK. Power is out for a little bit, that's all. Besides, Martha is coming home tonight; gotta have dinner waiting for her.”

“Mr. Harper, wait—” Janice called out. He had already started walking back to his house with each push of his cane. He slipped past the trees separating their yards and was gone. His wife, Martha, had been dead for ten years, but when he cooked, he always saved her some leftovers. Janice had made up her mind; they were going to take Mr. Harper with them.