Sealed In (22 page)

The
y accepted and got in the truck.

Their first run-in with a survivor was good, and Andy hoped it was an informative trip.

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Chad was quiet on the ride to his house. Carl, who lived in an apartment building nearby, drove Chad to his home.

Atlanta’s downtown was desolate, but it wasn’t completely devoid of people. They saw a few, but not many as they left the confines of the city.

Chad’s neighborhood was upscale, and he knew as soon as he turned onto his street that looters had already hit the neighborhood.

Houses were burned, windows broken, belongings strewn in the street.

Chad’s
house was not immune. His front door was open, his couch on the front lawn.

“Maybe I should go in with you,” Carl said.

“No, wait here. Can you?” Chad asked. “I want to check the safe room.”

Carl nodded.

“Hopefully, if she isn’t there, she left a note or something.” Chad stepped from the car and walked the path to his home.

It had been vandalized, pictures knocked fr
om the wall, papers everywhere. At first glance, he could see that every drawer was open. They came for food. Chad walked up the stairs.

There was an odd smell to his house. Musty, sour, but it wasn’t a fresh smell. Chad’s gut instinct
told him that something was wrong.

The safe room was located at the back of the master bedroom closet, but Chad didn’t need to go into the safe room to find Belinda.

She didn’t go into the safe room at all.

Her body was so decomposed that it was evident she had been dead for months. It also was clear she didn’t die of the plague. A portion of her head was missing. A huge brown stain of blood formed a halo around the saturated pillow, and the gun was still in her hand.

She had taken her own life.

He had some sense of sadness, but a part of him knew. When he hadn’t spoken to her and she hadn’t answered the phone, he knew
, even though he’d hoped she had gone into the safe room.

Chad covered her, took a moment,
and said goodbye. He then gathered a few pictures from the home, some clothes, and he left.

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Edward used the last five-gallon can of gas just before he turned up the mountain road. That was it; that was all he had. The only redeeming feature was the small town ten miles before. He saw a few people there and a sign that said ‘gas for food’.

Edward had that and something more valuable. The cure.

The plan was his wife and children, along with Edward’s mother, would go to the house, a cottage deep in the hills and stocked with a year’s supply of food and well water.

It was far enough away from civilization that as long as his wife and children left before exposure and stayed away
, they would be safe.

He would be lying to himself if he thought for sure everything was fine. Truth was, Edward was scared. Scared to death that he’d arrive and find his entire family dead.

The road was overgrown, and the last mile was quiet.

He pulled through the open gate and saw the SUV parked in front of the house. It was ‘weather’ dirty, and weeds grew up almost to the tires. The car hadn’t been moved or touched.

The curtains were drawn; there were no signs of life.

It was a beautiful day; surely the children would be out playing.

Edward turned off the car and paused for a moment. He prayed and then gathered the courage to go to the house. The step creaked as he placed his foot on it. He didn’t want to call out because he didn’t want silence to be the answer.

Edward reached for the door. Before he even touched the knob, the door opened and his wife Donna
cried out.

He couldn’t take it all in as his children cried out, “Daddy,” and grabbed on to his legs as he grabbed his wife.

He didn’t think beyond that moment. Edward hadn’t a clue what the next step would be. He’d think about it... later. For that moment, he was happy. His family was alive, and, well, that was all that mattered to Edward.

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The pickup truck driver was a nice enough fellow. More than being nice, he was informative to Andy and Del on the five-hour trip.

His name was Ben, and he was from Sarasota, Florida, one of the last places in the United States to be hit with the Black Hartworth, the name they gave to the germ that swept the country and eventually the world.

Andy loved the information Ben provided. Ben lost his entire family, except an uncle, in the Black Hartworth. He said people fled the West Coast and unfortunately brought the virus, and then they came south. They lost the news, then the internet, then the power. Radio was still operational two hours a day through FEMA broadcasting networks.

Even though Andy and Del had r
adio in the facility, being so far underground made it worthless. So no one in the CDC facility heard the FEMA broadcast.

News came that China had a cure, but it was going to take months.

“Gotta understand,” Ben told them, “This China cure thing came at the end, when people were desperate and worn. That’s when the Atlanta riot began. People stormed the CDC, and then things kind of just … fizzled.”

Ben explained that the United States, like every other country, lost its sustainability and structure. Forget financial. That all went to the wayside. Everyone concentrated on rebuilding, sustaining life, and then reconnecting.

According to now-President Wallace, the former Vice President, order of importance was food and water, shelter, healthcare, power, communications, security, and finances.

The restructuring of sustainability was set to begin on June 1.

There were nine government contract hubs. People were urged to register for work. They’d be fed, transported, and cared for in exchange for useful skills.

Ben worked for the power company for eight years
before the virus hit. He got the power back up in Sarasota and was certain that was where his skills would be needed.

When they pulled into Alexandria, there were droves of people, men and women, carrying belongings, standing in line.

“This is insane,” Del said. “I did not expect this many people.”

“This is just one of the sign-up places. People need food. This country needs farmers, teachers, and workers. You name it, the sustainability project will do it. We hope. At the very least it’ll bring people together.”

Andy gave a nod of his head. “I didn’t expect to see soldiers.”

“A lot went into the safe location with the Vice President,” Ben replied. “They divided them between hubs. They still need people to patrol streets. That’s on the list as well. You two ought to join.”

Andy nodded. “I will, but I have to get back to Montana first.”

Ben laughed. “Here I thought that was a joke. Even though there is gas in the reserves, it’s rationed. You can catch a ride to the next hub. Maybe there you can request gas to go to the hub farthest west.”

“That sounds like a good idea. Del?” Andy called his attention.

“All these people. Somehow I didn’t think this many would survive.”

Ben stated, “They estimate a little under twenty percent. But still, twenty percent, that’s seventy million people. That’s as many people as there were in 1880. At least the radio said.”

Ben pulled over and parked. He wanted to get his place in line, and Andy and Del had to part ways.

The sign up station was on the outskirts of Alexandria in a ballpark parking lot. Del was recognized by one of the soldiers and able to get a ride. He told the solider they needed to go west.

The soldier found them transportation. They could ride with the truck, but it didn’t leave until morning. They’d get out west, but it would take a while.

That was fine with them.

Andy and Del didn’t stray from where they’d catch their ride. They had enough supplies. To Andy
, it didn’t matter how long it would take; he was below ground for over five months and away from Lincoln, so what was a few more days?

“There’s nothing out there. It’s Babylon. Everyone left,” a soldier told them. “It’s barren.”

“It’s home,” Del simply responded.

It was a roundabout way and took a lot of explaining, but finally, they made it to Montana from one Sustainability Project hub to the next, Louisville, Cincinnati, Chicago, and Twin Falls. From there they finally got a truck.

But everyone was right.

The last sign of life they saw was in a little town called Bookings, South Dakota. The empty Holiday Inn even had on their marquee, last stop for civilization.

Not a soul. Not a car. Every town they drove through was empty.
Just as they crossed out of Garfield County in Phillips, the road ended … literally.

Dirt and dust covered the highway. There
were some trees, but not many.

There was no point of direction, nothing. They moved on a hope and a prayer; Andy prayed the entire way.

It wasn’t what he expected.

He followed the news. The small nuclear warhead was airburst over Hartworth.

They were forty miles from Hartworth. Were they wrong? Did the news mislead? Was the bomb bigger, or were there more than one?

“This looks worse than the pictures o
f Hiroshima,” Del commented. “You aren’t finding that box, Andy.”

“I have to try.”

Del exhaled with a nod.

Driving was tedious, like a video game. Some of the road lifted, some was just gone, but the sign that read ‘Lincoln, Montana’, was a godsend. It was bent and dirty, but still half in the ground, and Andy knew he was home.

He knew right where he was even though there weren’t any other visual markers. He had lived in that area his entire life; he was certain that he could find the Burton property.

Skeletons of horses
were scattered about, and an RV lay on its side, dented and dirty. It looked as if it had been thrown.

Andy spotted the hill of Stew’s property, the one where his house used to sit, and he turned right, even though the road was gone.

Del kept asking, “Are you sure this is right? Nothing is here.”

“It’s right,” Andy said. “I feel it.”

Then they saw the remains of Stew’s fence. The tall brick walls that were pillars for the metal gate were still standing as well as the gate. It was open, though.

They arrived on the property.

Typically, Stew’s house could be seen on top of the hill, as well as the large barn, but they were gone.

Rubble was strewn across the property, couches, furniture, and clothes tossed about, covered with dirt.

Andy made a turn; it was the road built to Emma’s house. He could make out a portion of it, counted in his mind, and estimated where the driveway was.

But he couldn’t go very far.

Wood and bricks were everywhere.

Emma’s house, her barn, were nothing but matchsticks as if the hand of God
had crushed the buildings and tossed out the remains, sprinkling them across the land.

Andy put the truck in park and stepped out. The ache in his body seeped through as he groaned when he closed the door.

Del watched for a moment. Andy was on a mission. He walked a few steps, backed up, turned, and walked again. What was he doing?

He repeated his actions over and over, and then Del had enough. He got out of the truck. “Andy,” he called. “Come on, guy. This is useless.”

Andy spun to face Del. “It is not useless. I’m not giving up. Not yet.”

Del tossed out his hands. “What can I do?”

“Look.”

“For?”

“Anything that points to the direction of the house,” Andy said.

The search would be defeating and Del knew it. He shook his head, but when he did, he saw it. “Like that step?”

Andy stopped.

The step was twenty feet west of where Andy looked.

He rushed to it. “Yes. Yes, Del.” Andy removed planks of wood. “Th
ese are the steps to the porch.” Andy walked up.

Del watched as Andy stepped over the rubble, reached out his hand, and pretended to open a door. “You look insane, you know that, right?”

“I’m in the living room.” Andy said and turned. “Headed to the kitchen now.”

“He’s in the living room.”

“Del! Come on. I need your help.”

“Why not?” Thinking that Andy had lost it, but what else was there to do, they had come all this way, Del walked through the rubble to join Andy.