Monte Vista Village, Toxic Soup (The Survivor Diaries) (12 page)

For the first few days, integrating the new group in with our preexisting one was logistically confusing, but nothing of great consequence was mentioned by them. Strangely, this other faction has seemed to accept me as leader, too. It must have been Jackson’s doing. Again!

Everything has been really busy since the new group showed up. And it’s not just the combining into one bigger group. We have been making preparation for the next phase.

Jackson had been checking the atmosphere and he and Doc have concurred: it’s time.

Tomorrow we are going outside.

Please enjoy a few more chapters in Part II, Surviving the Outside

I got up early this morning. I have been sleeping-in from the beginning of all of this, but I guess that is probably over now.

I got up early to wipe the layer of grunge off of myself with a wet wipe. We have been talking about a shower system and the “engineers” think they might have come up with some ideas. I can’t wait for a real shower!

I put on make-up for the first time in almost a month. So much can change in just one month. I barely recognize my reflection. I have lost some weight, which is great! But my face looks so sunken in, I look like a refugee like you see on the news. I guess I am a refugee of sorts now; we all are.

“You look beautiful,” Mark lied.

“Right,” I smiled at him.

“I’m about to start taking down the boards from the windows. I can start in here, first. Ready for the grand opening,” he asked.

“Only since the minute you put those things up,” I retorted.

“Well, here I go. Enjoy your new view,” he said.

“Ahh,” we both yelled in unison.

A bright, white light shone in through the broken window. Had the world become brighter, or were our eyes that unused to natural light. I hope it is the latter.

The air was brisk as it rushed over my skin. I closed my eyes and breathed it in deeply. The stench of our house had gradually become worse, but we had been getting used to it. Now, juxtaposed with the cool, “fresh” air, I don’t think I could ever go back to living that way.
From my lips, to God’s ears
, the saying came to me from my upbringing.

I called my mother into our room. She winced at the light, but had the same reaction we had had to the great outdoors.

The three of us stood in front of the window, eyes closed, and just breathed. We were holding hands.
Tears rolled down my face.

While Mark finished with the windows and doors, I got ready for what was going to be a very long day.

An hour and a half later, we were all standing at the front door, hesitant to go out. It still seemed taboo. I took the initiative and crossed the threshold. We were leaving in plenty of time, so we stood there until our eyes adjusted to the sun light.

When they did adjust, we were in for a startling view. The beautiful brick staircase in front of Mom’s house leading to the street level was destroyed. The hillside that had lain on either side, the one that contained a beautiful garden, 30 years in the making, had completely eroded. Only one rose bush remained. It bowed its head, as if in shame.

I cautiously looked over at Mom, waiting for her reaction. She simply grabbed the existing railing and began to hoist herself up the hill. In shock at her nonchalant reaction, Mark, Hershey and I followed.

The street level view was no different. The road had buckled some, but was still drivable if you were careful.  One of the houses down the street had completely slipped off of its stilts and had slid down the hill. It was still right side up, but I wasn’t sure that anyone could be living in it like it was. The windows were still boarded up.

I looked out at what had been Monterey,
my
Monterey. The previously obscured view was now open. The trees had mostly fallen, but that was not really what had my attention.

Everything as far as the eye could see was affected in one way or the other. Some buildings were completely flattened and almost all of them had broken windows. But my neighborhood, while broken, was not destroyed. It looked like it was the only one.

Breathing deeply, I headed down the hill to the home of my dear friends, Jill and Joseph. I suppose no one who remained would ever again be able to say that they didn’t know their neighbors.

As we approached the apex of the hill we lived on, I saw Jill, her hand over her visor, still having difficulty seeing. I ran to her, screaming her name.

“Sweetie!” She took me into her embrace. “You are a sight for sore eyes, literally,” she said with a chuckle.

I bent over to deliver a kiss to Joseph’s check.

“Hello, Sweet Girl. We couldn’t wait to see you,” he said. How things had changed in a month.

Mark came up behind me with his hand lowered into a hearty hand shake with Joseph, while Mom and Jill hugged and cried.

The six of us started towards the Lodge, with Mark controlling Joseph’s wheelchair down the hill. As we went, we saw a couple of our neighbor’s acting out the same reunion that we just had. I didn’t recognize some of them, but I raised my arm and waved a big hello. They returned the same.

My little tribe was the first to make it to the Lodge. We wanted to get down there early and check on its condition. The windows had been blasted out, as we had expected. But it was better than most buildings we could see. It helped that it sat in a small valley, but was on flat ground and surrounded by that huge parking lot.

When we got to the building, we spread out and looked inside the open windows. Some of the furniture seemed to have made it through with minimal damage and the kitchen looked great, considering.

We carefully passed the broken glass and went inside. On the left of the entry was one of those rolling metal chair racks, with around 30 folding chairs still hanging on. We each took a corner and rolled it outside toward where Joseph waited.

“This is a good start,” I said. “I think everyone will be happy to have the meeting out here, anyway. We’ll get a group together to clean up inside right away.”

We proceeded to set up the chairs facing away from the warming sun. Mark went back inside and emerged with a rolling, wooden platform that functioned like a stage. I ran over and helped him move it to rest in front of the chairs. Next, he brought out a dry wipe board with some markers. This place was perfect for meetings. I guess I knew that when I went to talk to Ed No-Last Name that day.

I went inside to scope out what else we could use. I came to an office, and on the heavy desk still stood a wooden name plaque. Ed Smith. Smith, it figures. “You will always be Ed No-Last-Name to me,” I said out loud.

I rejoined the growing group, and sat in a chair that had been placed on the stage. Hershey, who had followed us the whole way, took his place beside me, but rather than lying down at my feet, he sat and watched as the people filed in. He acted like all of these people were coming together to see him; that he was in charge. Part of me wishes he were.

I watched each face as it came down the hill and toward the crowd. And even though there was so much destruction in our midst, almost everyone had a smile on their face when they viewed the gathering of their living neighbors.

“Hello,” I stood and spoke in the loudest voice I could muster. As I did, I saw the Colonel make his way down the hill. He was the last to join us, of course.

I was surprised that he was actually rather good looking. I had only seen him once, while he drove by. He shook Mark’s hand as he politely stood to greet him. And when he stood by Mark, I was surprised at how short he was, too.

“For those of
you who recognize the voice, but not the face, I’m Laura Balous and I can’t tell you how happy I am to see every single one of you.”

An unexpected cheer rose from over forty of our neighbors. They came in all different shapes, colors, sizes and ages, and every single one of them was a beautiful survivor. I had to stop and compose myself before going on.

“Sorry, just a little farklempt,” I said with a smile, my hand to my throat. A little cautious laughter came from my audience.

“Most of us probably never thought that we would make it to this day. We have all been released from our tombs,” I waited while they let out a bigger, knowing cheer. “I know that things don’t look the same anymore. As much as we tried, we could not have prepared ourselves for this.” I felt the mood change as my words became serious.

I continued, “And although we have not been able to look each other in the eye during this time, we have surely pulled each other through our darkest hours until this moment. We have been each other’s support, teachers, friends, and family. I can’t wait to get to know each one of you personally.” Again, the loud cheers came, this time with a roar.

I had been practicing the speech nervously in front of the mirror all week, but as I stood there, my stage fright disappeared. The faces looking up at me were warm and understanding. They were also the faces of people who were desperately looking for someone to lead them. Simply put, they wanted to trust me, so they did.

“As I look out over the scorched and broken landscape that used to be our beautiful home, I hurt. And I know you do, too. As far as the big picture, I am not sure where exactly we go from here. I can’t tell you that we can clean this all up and make it just the way it was. You know that, too.

“What I can tell you is that if we work together, we might survive for a while. And I can only hope that we might even find a way to continue to do so into the future,” I looked at the faces that now wore a hint of disappointment. They wanted me to tell them that we will do more than just survive; they wanted me to tell them that everything is going to be just as it once was; I wouldn’t lie to them.

“I don’t need to tell you to not give up hope. If you had, you wouldn’t be sitting here today. We all survived our first test. But I suspect that is just one of many more. But just because we made it through the dark and back into the light, it does not mean that we are destined to continue. All we can do is work hard, and work smart.

“So, today we will be breaking into smaller groups so that we can get right down to business. Liz and I compiled a bio of each member of the neighborhood, and from that we placed you all into groups where it made sense. These lists will be taped to the wall of the building. I know that this has been called ‘The Lodge,’ but now it will be called ‘Town Hall,’” I handed the lists in my hand to Liz.

“I would like to now introduce you to Colonel Phillip Jackson. He has been an important part of us all coming together,” I said. Jackson walked up on stage, shook my hand and gave me a strange look. Do I look different than he thought I would? I thought he said he had seen Mark and I before.

Just before he began to speak, he turned and stared into the distance. I followed his gaze until I saw what looked like a small parade of ants in the distance. As if on cue, our audience craned their necks and gasped.

It was people, more survivors.

They had heard our noise, the noises of life, and had begun to come out of their homes and make their way toward us. They were dirty, disheveled and bewildered.

“Come,” I screamed out. And they did.