Monte Vista Village, Toxic Soup (The Survivor Diaries) (3 page)

Jill just left. Mark is walking her home now because it is so late. I am not worried about the curfew the city government enacted yesterday in anticipation of problems like those they are having back east. I have not seen or heard one police or military vehicle go through our neighborhood. It is if all officials have simply vanished.

When
Jill arrived earlier she hugged Mom like she did with me earlier. Even though she had never met him, she did the same with Mark. And, as always, my husband was very understanding and let her take what she needed from him.

We ate outside. It was Mark’s “experimental,” dehydrated meat and if this is what we have to look forward to meal wise, we are in big trouble. It was so dry it took minutes chewing and breaking the meat down with saliva before we could actually swallow. The fog rolled in around the time we finished dinner, as it usually did this time of year, so we moved inside.

The light from the fireplace was sucked into the room with the wood and tarp over the windows. With wine in hand, we sat and talked to each other’s shadowed faces about the future. Jill began with her thoughts.

“I think what Laura did today was a good start. And the work you have done here
in the house is fantastic. We have done some, but with Joe in the wheelchair, well, it’s not happening fast enough for me. But I am getting there.”

“Do you need some help,” Mark offered.

“I built that house with my own two hands. I know I can get it done.”

“I remember you out on the beams. I thought you were crazy, but you did it.” Mom contributed.

Mom was a bit out of her element with everything going on. She wanted to contribute, but she just didn’t know what. She took the back seat these past few weeks while I took us from store to store getting what I thought we needed. She protested when I begged her to get the very expensive ham radio set from craigslist, but she finally gave in. She became the financier of our big, nuclear bunker that we were creating in her home.

Hershey curled his somewhat big body on my lap and drank in the heat of the fireplace.  If I didn’t know better, I think he was enjoying this all. We were all home way more than usual. Mark’s job at the school was put on indefinite leave, so even he was home during the days. If only
I could be as clueless as my beloved Hershey about what was to come maybe my heart wouldn’t always be beating so hard all of the time.

Jill kept going, “I did, and even though that was a very long time ago, I know I can get the house ready. Well, as ready as it can be.”

“So, how can we bring the neighborhood together, and is it even worth trying?” I asked.

By the time Jill went home we had put a plan into place and were confident about what we were attempting. In the end, at least Jill was in it with us.

I can’t sleep. Everything is going through my mind right now. Mostly, I fear that our neighbors are going to be suspicious of Jill and me. But, in the end, we decided that we needed to get out there and hit as many houses as possible. Although reluctant, Jill finally acquiesced and said she will take our help with her house.  And the best news of all, Mark is finally on board with the prep work. With his strength, we can’t go wrong. He is a natural leader.

Mark is snoring peacefully next to me, although I know that he also has had a lot of trouble sleeping        since the war began. My husband’s life story is unbelievable, but that is why I f
ear people will not trust him in the days to come.

As I said, he is from Africa. After earning his Masters, he became a political refugee from his own country because he spoke out again
st an indifferent dictatorship. And yes, he is Muslim, a Sufi.  He ended up in Japan when he escaped Sudan. In Japan he built a life for himself. He learned the language and got a great IT job. At over six foot and being a large African man, he was something of a phenomenon there and he even dabbled in acting. He met his ex online and eventually changed his country of citizenship, this time to the US. After 9/11 he actually joined the Army and went to Iraq. When he came home, he was transferred to Monterey to teach Arabic. He knew his marriage was over, and divorced.

I was on my break from work one day and stopped into the downtown coffee shop for a much needed jolt. A large man in uniform stepped behind me in line. The line was long, and I knew it was going to make me late, but I didn’t care. I needed it!

“Excuse me,” the stranger said.

“Yes,” I replied. I thought he was going to ask to go in front of me, which I would have said yes to. He was a soldier, and I appreciated his service. But that’s not what he asked.

“Are you single?”

Really, that was forward! This isn’t a bar, you know.

“Sorry, it’s just that you are beautiful, and I would like to take you out on a date.”

“Hmm, well,” I didn’t know what to say, so I
flushed a deep shade of red and said, “yes”.

And now, seven years later, we have been experiencing relationships ups and downs, and we are now on the brink of nuclear annihilation, together. And I wouldn’t want to go through it with anyone else.

Okay, now I really am tired. I will try and get some sleep.

We did it! We collected twenty two homes worth of information. Yes, it was a long, emotional journey that sometimes brought me to tears. So many people don’t trust us. The war has made us distrust each other as much as we distrust the enemy.

But we
did get some real good information.

Here is some of the information we gathered from the internet and got from our neighbors, as well:

1.
       
Secure all windows and doors with wood. If you have no wood, use whatever you can find.

2.
      
DO NOT leave the house for a minimum of one week, but two weeks if the blasts were bad.

3.
      
Try and use your radio in limited ways. Conserve your batteries if you can.

4.
      
Unplug your car batteries and carefully bring them into the house and place in a windowless room, if possible. This might keep it protected if an EMP (electro-magnetic pulse) should occur.

5.
      
Secure all of your battery operated equipment in the same manner as your car battery.

6.
      
If you have a walkie-talkie, place it on channel two.

7.
      
Keep all of your emergency supplies close to the space you plan to occupy.

8.
      
Keep a supply of your medications and prescription glasses close at hand.

9.
      
And stay calm.

Another important thing we a
ccomplished was to talk to the director of the local Lodge, Ed. I already forgot his last name. The Lodge is a one story building with a giant parking lot, a kitchen, offices and meeting rooms.

“Can we use your building if we need to and it’s still here,” I asked, bluntly. I had nothing to lose.

“I don’t care,” said Ed No-Last-Name. “I’m headed home to Seaside. No one is here now, and no one’s coming back, is my guess.”

Well, okay, Ed No-Las
t-Name. Thanks for your concern and cooperation.

Mom was again perched in front of the radio. We joined her when we heard something we had never heard before.

“Wait,” Mom said, as a steady high pitched beep emanated from what was now our only source of information. “Sometimes this channel goes out.” Wow, she was really getting good with the radio, or has it become an obsession?

We sat for one of the longest two minutes of my life. I started to feel light headed when I realized that I was holding my breath. I was lucky that I hadn’t passed out.

Then, it happened. A long, steady stream of siren-like warning signals came from the San Francisco station that had been providing us with the most up to date information. At that moment everything began going black in my head, like when you attempt to stand up after be
ing in bed, sick, for several days. I concentrated hard to keep from going under and Mark grabbed my arm and steadied me on the stool.

Why am I surprised that it had come to the West Coast? My rational mind knew it would.
I was preparing for it, for heaven’s sakes.

Before I knew it, we were all holding each other’s hands. We were squeezing tightly, as I blurted out, “I love you guys.”

I know that they were replying, but I can’t even remember what they were saying. I was in my own world. Is that what comes when you know that your death is emanate?

After a couple of minutes, Mark tuned the radio off. But the sound had not stopped. It was coming from outside. We have a warning system in Monterey? Did I know that?

We are now just sitting here, on the couches, waiting. I grabbed this stupid diary, but I have no idea why. It’s not like anyone is going to be reading it now. But I need to do something, anything. Not Mom and Mark. They are just looking at… I am not sure what they are looking at. Maybe they can’t see anything at the moment.

Mom is sobbing, and Mark moved between us to hold us both… now they start getting along, go figure. And I am sobbing, too. Sobbing and writing.

Is that the sound of planes?

What’s moving?

I am going to throw up!

I’m dying.

A few days later, night

I am not really sure of time any more, without our cell phones working. Why don’t we have watches?

I am glad that my last thoughts were not about throwing up, at least not yet.

We are alive,
all three of us.

And maybe the neighbors are alive, too. Talk about coming through at the 11
th
hour. I am so glad that I had told them about staying inside after the attack for at least a week, or maybe two after initial impact. It depends on what kind of attack it is. At least, that was the information on the CDC website. Many of the neighbors had been prepping, as we were. But some were not.

The bombs hit fast and hard. I was in the 1989 earthquake in San Francisco and it was a tap on the shoulder compared to this. Earthquakes only last for seconds. This event went on for what seemed like hours. I am not sure how many, and I guess it doesn’t matter.

Sometimes we felt shaking and sometimes it felt like the earth was literally buckling. For the first few seconds we sat, completely petrified. But then we were thrown into the air. I came down hard on the tiles with my hands and knees. Now, the room was pitch b
lack, but I could feel the tile floor beneath me crack, as the sound exploded in my ears.

A
few minutes went by when the next wave began. I have no idea what I was hearing, feeling and even smelling, but this time it felt like whatever was happening was getting further away. Is it possible, had I survived?

Not so fast, the earth said.

It all started again. The shaking resonated in my chest. It even made my teeth hurt. I don’t know how many times I rolled. I was crashing into what I could only imagine was furniture that had up-ended. Surely this had to be the end of it, of us.

But no, the next assault to my senses was smell
now. I don’t know how it was so strong. We were hammered, duct-taped and tarped into our dark tomb and yet my nasal passages burned with a smell. I have nothing to compare the smell to in order describe it. It hurt though. And it made its way to my lungs, which were now trying desperately to expel it. So, that was the way I will go.
I will asphyxiate
, I vaguely thought.

I heard my mother scream out in a sound that made my heart break. But even worse was that I didn’t hear Mark at all. Was I making noises, screaming? I have no idea.

It was still going. And then I did something that, looking back, I am surprised I was able to do; I allowed myself to just roll with it. And, more surprisingly, I relaxed into peacefulness. It was my time, and I was willing to go. I would have no more pain, no more worry that brought bile up my throat, no more noisy thoughts of survival, just nothing more.

I woke from the blackness into more blackness as the earth continued to tumble
. I was still here. Damn it! I was ready.

Seconds later, it ended, with a whimper.

When my head turned I felt dirt, or maybe dust, fall into my eyes. I groaned.

“Are you okay,” it was Mark. But he died, hadn’t he? “Honey, don’t move.”

Don’t go
, I thought, or maybe I said. Everything was foggy. Come back… don’t leave me!

“Mom, can you move
?” Mark asked my mother.

“Yeah, I think
.” I heard my mother’s voice and I began to cry.

My body hurt as I sobbed and I kept telling myself that I needed to stop or it would hurt more. I could barely breathe. I felt like I was drowning and I was starting to panic. But the tears cleared my vision and I saw light. No, that couldn’t be. The pain was too much and I turned my head and threw up.

I saw a figure move in front of the light and I heard hammering. Someone’s doing construction? I was having the strangest thoughts trying to put it all together.

“Honey, the wood split on the window and the glass broke. I have to fix it before the contamination gets in. Just stay still.”

Not a problem. I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. I think I blacked out again.

My head was so sticky and dirty, that much I knew. I was wearing one of the face masks, too. This time, when I opened my eyes
, there was light. It was the emergency lantern.

I looked around the room and I almost didn’t recognize the very house I grew up in.

“You hear that,” I asked. “Rescued already?”

“No, Baby. No one’s here. You were really thrown around. Maybe you ruptured an ear drum. You are hearing things,” Mark said through his mask.
He was sitting next to me now.

“Okay,” I said. But I could hear someone in the distance saying my name.

“Laura!”

“What the…” Mark exclaimed. I felt him get up from my side and move away.

“No, don’t leave me,” I squeezed out the loudest I could, but it was nothing more than a whisper.

I was feeling so confused.

“Laura, are you okay? Annie, Mark, are you okay? Over.” This time I was sure I heard someone.

Mark retrieved one of the emergency back packs. Just that morning Jill had given us one of her camping walkie-talkies. She had the other and made sure they were both on the same channel. I never had the chance to tell Mark it was in there.

“It’s Jill,” I told him.

“Oh my God.
Jill!” He screamed her name so loudly my ears went back to ringing again for a few seconds.

“Mark? It’s
me. Are you okay? Laura, Annie,” she asked.

“Yes, we are okay. Laura’s hurt. I think Annie broke her wrist. I am treating them. I had first aide in the Army. We got pretty roughed over here. We rolled a lot, too. How are you? How is Joseph?”

“Fine, we are fine. Joe got away from me a few times. But I caught him. All in all, the house held up mostly. Built right, you know?” She scoffed at her own joke. Of course it held up, she built it. “I wish I could come and help you guys.”

“No, stay!
At least one week, okay? Please don’t move. We can stay in touch, but right now I need to help them.” He turned his head and whispered something I couldn’t hear.

Warm tears rolled down my face and my teeth began to chatter loudly. Could Jill hear them? What was I thinking?

“Baby,” Mark lifted my feet and inched me carefully into a sleeping bag that he already had out. “I think you are in shock,” he said.

I couldn’t get
any more words out. I was shaking hard and everything in my body hurt. Just then I felt something warm, rough and wet on my face. What was Mark doing? It felt weird.

I opened my eyes to see my sweet Hershey. I remember thinking,
my dog looks concerned. I must be really bad.

“Hershey, sit,” Mark commanded. Hershey moved to my feet, but never went very far from me.

“Honey, lift your head. Open your mouth. I found some of your painkillers in the emergency pack from when you hurt your back. Now drink this and swallow.”

I choked on the pills the first try. I spit them into my hand and then
I turned my head and I threw up again. I took a breath and I got them to my throat, but it hurt so much getting them down. I must have been hit in the neck somehow.  When they finally went down, I started to drink the water greedily. I was so thirsty. I choked again, and Mark pulled the bottle away from my begging lips.

“Just put your head down,” He moved my head into his lap. “You’re okay, you’re okay.” I knew he was trying to convince himself of it. I wasn’t so sure, though.
But he stroked my hair and kept reassuring me.

I don’t remember much after that for a while. I could hear my mother becoming frantic, though. She kept asking Mark if I was okay until he finally snapped at her. “Annie, stop! Let me help her.”

I finally opened my eyes the best I could. Were they swollen shut? I peeked out to see my husband’s worried expression. My mother was on the couch, trying to crane her neck to look at me.

Mark looked tired and scared. I have never seen him scared before. I summoned my strength and lifted my hand to his face. He smiled
weakly, and I could see he was relieved at that small gesture. “I’m okay, Baby. Don’t worry,” I said. He started rocking me in his arms. It hurt to move like that, but I said nothing. He needed me to be fine and for him I would be.

The next hours, maybe
days, went both slowly and quickly somehow. I heard Mark speaking quietly to my mother. I know he was trying to soothe her, and I was grateful.  Periodically, I even heard Mom and Mark speaking with Jill and Joseph. They were our only connection to the outside world. And we were theirs.

A few hours later

I am not sure how long it had been since the explosions, but I am overwhelmed with grief thinking about my family; those who aren’t here. Of course, when I began to think of Amanda and Brianna the tears came. They were slow at first, but the more I imagine what they must have gone through, the faster they come. The flood gates are opened and I am not sure that they will ever end. They are like my daughters, maybe even closer, if that is possible. I am squeezing my eyes closed and willing myself to stop. I hope that they went quickly, in the arms of my brother to comfort them.

But I have more loved ones and I might never know what became of them. My best friend, Penny, and her parents, who were like my own, my brother’s second wife and her kids, and my cousin back east. I can only imagine they are gone, along with almost everyone else.

Why do I have to still be here? Certainly, living is the cruelest fate. But I know that we might not have to endure much longer. We have no idea what actually happened, and if the air in here is really not contaminated. There are just way too many variables, too many things we don’t know. And too many things we may never know.

We still are not really sure how much time has passed. Our best guess is that it has been a couple of days, at least. We decided to ask Jill when she called to check on us next. She will know.

I am lying on my side in my sleeping bag, with my head propped up, writing by the dim light of the lantern. I am thankful that we have plenty of batteries, water, and some food to get us through until we can go outside.

Mark was able to gather the pages of my diary. I think he knows that I need to keep busy or I will go mad, stuck within my own mind.

Mark is smart. His life might have been in preparation for this. He has created a tent with in the living room to keep in our body heat. We can’t use even one of our three fireplaces due to carbon monoxide. There is no place for it to go since we fortified ourselves in to our tomb.

I have called what was our home our “tomb” and my mother scolds me every time. It does feel like it though; like some ancient pyramid we have ensconced ourselves in
. But we are still alive. If you can call this living. I am still in a great deal of pain. I think that the heavy sideboard Mark found me under pushed my rib into my lung. It’s hard to breath and it is painful on the right side. I don’t think that my lung is ruptured, though.