The Last Blade Of Grass (11 page)

“If things get really bad inside Medford, we can still skirt the city to get here from my ranch when we want to come back,” I offer. “But if there is nothing else to take then we need to get going. It’s already four thirty, so it might be dark before we finish loading up. If we can do it safely, that is.”

“How far is this guy’s place from the hospital the Chief was talking about on the radio?” Donald asks.

“Not far enough, I’m sure. I really don’t know. We’re just going to have to watch what the people in the area are doing, and listen for screams, gunshots, or anything else approaching us. Hopefully with the alert system telling people to stay indoors and keep secure, it will keep people from clogging the streets. We haven’t seen too much traffic on the roads yet, but we’ve stayed off the highways for the most part.” I'm about to get in the truck but turn back to Donald, and say, “I didn’t see any guns with the stuff we loaded, so you should run in and grab what you have.”

“Oh, Damn! I knew I was forgetting something important,” Karen says

“That’s all right, honey. Joshua and I will get our guns, and you can get Katy situated in the cab.”

“Do you need any help getting them?” I ask.

“No, we don’t have very many. It’s just a couple of rifles and shotguns. My handgun I keep in the truck.”

“Okay, I’ll be in the truck as well then,” I say and turn to follow Karen and Katy.

*

Some of the streets are starting to get backed up with cars. There are plenty of vehicles loaded with belongings heading out of the city to some unknown destination but not enough to completely clog the roads, and not nearly as many as I would have assumed. If I was living in any city, I would be getting my ass out. I’m guessing most people just don’t have anywhere to go.

There is rioting nationwide, so the prospect of escaping one city for another isn’t an option. It may also be a general lack of initiative, however, and that would be a truly sad scenario. And then with the economy in shambles for the last ten years, and the most recent downturn, many probably don’t have the means to escape. They either have no vehicle or no gas.

Katy occasionally chats with her mom from the back of the cab, other than that, we are mainly in our own worlds. We are quiet and transfixed by this slowly increasing American exodus going on before us. Car after car filing by, headed toward the highway, and we can only stare in disbelief as if we are watching some movie in silence. The radio is still on the emergency broadcast. All stations telling people to remain at home and to be on the lookout for people acting strangely. Strangely! There is a stupid non-descriptive phrase if ever there was one. Do they bother telling people that there is an infection? No. Do they say the infection comes from a bite? No.

“Damn it!” I say out loud, jolting everyone from the muted, and eerie scene out the windshield. “Sorry,” I offer. “I was just thinking about the alert system message and how it offers these people no help whatsoever. Millions of people, actually probably hundreds of millions, are going to die because of this thing. The government couldn’t be bothered to give the people a fighting chance. No honest explanation of what is going on or at least what specifically people need to avoid. It just pisses me off to no end.”

We drive on for a few more blocks before Karen asks from the back, “Do you really think that many people will die?”

“I’m sorry for the doom and gloom, but yes, I do, at least in this country. If this thing is truly global then we’ll probably lose billions. I mean, imagine what we’re looking at. An infection or disease of some type that takes just one to five minutes for a person bitten to become violent, and that is assuming it isn’t quicker. Then you have a public that has basically no information about avoiding bites. Add to that the first responders being a main source of outbreak for this disease.

“During an emergency where do people go? They’ll either go to the police station, fire department, or the hospital which in many places would be the epicenters of the illness. I mean, this is the perfect scenario for population reduction, except there is a very good chance of extinction.”

“Come on,” Donald says with disdain. “Now I know you run a survival type store, but I think your imagination is running wild here. I mean, we haven’t seen any panicked people or any violent ones attacking each other. People that are driving by may be cutting each other off on the roads, but we haven’t even seen any accidents yet, and there are a lot of people crowding the roads now. Maybe it will get bad but extinction of the human race? Really? There are seven billion of us. We’re on every continent. We have the knowledge and technology to survive whatever is thrown at us. Even this thing, whatever it is.”

“Maybe you’re right, Donald. I’m basing my assumptions on this thing keeping the same transmission time or speeding up, but it could just as easily slow down and taper out. It could mutate away quickly if it is a viral outbreak.”

“Even if it speeds up, I can’t see the people in the labs, the scientists not looking for a cure or antidote or something,” Donald says confidently.

“What people in labs?” Joshua questions.

“What now, you too?” he asks his son. “The CDC, the WHO, all of the disease studies labs and the scientists that work there.”

“That sounds like essential personnel and first responders to me,” Joshua says quietly referring to the internet letter.

Joshua's right, “Even if the people in those agencies don’t take the drug and get sick, they will still be subject to fighting off those that are violent. And I bet they have military personnel guarding those facilities that will take the drug. Let’s give it the best possible outlook. The buildings are secure, and the people inside and out remain uninfected. What kind of research will they do when the power goes out?”

“Why would the power go out?” Karen asks, a bit concerned.

“Power plants and utility companies are run by people. When things get really bad do you think the electricity producers will stay on the job, or will they go home to protect their families? And what if the plant comes under attack by the infected? Best case scenario is that all the power plants get manually shut down and the nation goes black. Only those places with generators or some alternative power source like we have at the ranch will get any electricity, and that is minimal compared to normal usage amounts.”

“How is that the best case?” Karen asks. “All the power going out would be devastating.”

“My wife and I moved here to Oregon because there are basically no nuclear power plants in the Northwest area. Only one in Washington, none in Idaho, Montana, Utah, or Oregon. The California plants are all far away. If someone at a nuclear power plant gets infected before the plant is shut down then it could be worse than Fukushima and Chernobyl. Just one nuclear facility going into meltdown would be a disaster when everyone is already dealing with a rapidly moving outbreak. There are a lot of nuclear power plants out there, especially on the East coast. There could be dozens of total meltdowns from a disease that spreads this quickly. Let’s just hope DHS didn’t send any of this Zeus drug to power plant security forces.”

A car swerves in front of us from the passenger side, squealing its tires, and tries to drive down the road to our left, but the turn was too fast and too wide. Donald had to slam on the brakes and stop the truck. We watch as the car bounces on the curb, hits the street sign, and crashes into the concrete wall just beyond the sidewalk.

“Donald, get the truck moving,” I say urgently.

“I can’t, that car just had—”

“Get it moving now, Donald!” I yell, cutting him off. “They are either running from something we don’t want to deal with right now or running because they’ve done something wrong.”

Donald looks at me with anger as if he is ready to throw me out of the truck, but I point past him at the scene to redirect his attention to what is going on. The driver of the car has gotten out and is grabbing a duffle bag stuffed with some small boxes. A few fall out and look to be some type of smart phone or I-phone packaging. The passenger climbs out through the driver’s door holding his head and tries to stagger away before the drivers duffle bag is thrown around his neck.

“Can we go now, Donald?” I say as the car’s driver reaches back into the vehicle for some other probably stolen items. “The looting has started, and you have your family in the truck with you. If we run into a situation where I think we can help people without risking our lives, I won’t tell you to leave, but I am asking you to trust my judgment until we get back to my place. Good Samaritans get killed during normal rioting, and we have to watch out for an infection as well.”

He doesn’t respond, just starts the truck rolling again to drive the final thirteen blocks.

“At least this place seems quiet,” Joshua says. “There are only a few cars going by here.”

“Let me go out and check the house. I’ll make sure I can open it up and that no one is around,” I say and hop down out of the truck and walk up to Matt’s front door. It's locked and the key he gave me works, so I unlock and open it, then turn back to the truck, and say, “I’m going to walk around the house to make sure no one has broken in from the back or sides.”

“You don’t need to bother," a voice calls from my left. "Matt left this morning, and no one else has come or gone.” It's one of Matt’s next door neighbors.

“Hello,” I say casually to the man walking up.

“Matt said someone would be by to pick up some of his things. I was amazed to find out he is one of those conspiracy people who thinks the world is going to end. I feel bad for you people having to move his stuff for no reason, but I guess moving companies have to make money too, right?”

“What’s your name sir?” I ask

“John. John Matthews.”

“Well, Mr. Matthews—”

“Just, John.”

“Okay, John. We aren’t a moving company. I’m a friend of Matt’s, and unfortunately even the local sheriff is packing up and moving his family out of town. The Metro police chief told Sheriff Barns that he can’t get some of his men on their radios, and the phone-line into the station was jammed with calls. Are you a person that is avoiding dealing with reality, or are you just unaware of what is going on?” I ask.

“Well, I um... Matt said it was serious and said it might be some type of illness, but he didn’t have any information other than the rioting that’s taking place. We haven’t had rioting problems here in Medford, and I just thought… well, I don’t have any idea what is going on. The alert said to stay home and didn’t say anything like what Matt mentioned. I just figured he was overreacting.”

“Give me a second Mr. … I mean John. Donald, you and Joshua go ahead and start loading up the truck. Matt said there would be a list of the supplies he has on the kitchen counter or table, and it should also say where it is stored. Hopefully most of it will be in a room on the first floor. Load and bring your shotguns with you and leave them in the house while you’re getting things loaded into the truck. I will be in to help as soon as I let John here know what’s going on. “Karen, you get the rifles loaded and be ready to shoot to back us all up if things get bad.”

“Do you want your shotgun?” Donald asks

“I’ll actually take both the rifle and shotgun please, and one of the letters I brought.” Donald passes down my FAL, my shotgun, and the letter which I hand off to Mr. Matthews.

“That is what we know so far Mr. Matthews,” I say as I maneuver the rifle strap over my head and across my chest, and sling the shotgun over my shoulder. “Please read the letter, and I will answer any questions that I can,” I say, redirecting the neighbors gaze from my guns to the paper he is holding.

After just over a minute of reading, John says, “This can’t be real, right? I mean, is this a joke? It has to be.”

“I was beginning to think the letter was a fake as well because everything in Medford has been so quiet. When we were at Sheriff Barns’ house just under an hour ago, he was packing up to get his wife out of town, and I showed him the letter. He got really pissed and called the Metro Police Chief on his cruiser radio, so we heard them talk. Zeus, the drug mentioned in the letter, is what the local DHS people were distributing to first responders. The hospitals and local police were supposed to get it. The chief lost contact with his men who went with the DHS guys to give injections at the hospital. Only problem is we don’t know which hospital, or if it was only one, but this infection is here now, and it is spreading.”

John looks at me, and stammers, “I...I don’t know what to do. How can the sheriff just leave if things are falling apart? Aren’t they supposed to be in charge of situations like this?”

“Normally yes, but in times of national emergencies, the feds take over, and in this case it’s Homeland Security, but their solution to this problem is giving injections of the drug, which is what is spreading the disease. On top of that, according to the sheriff, government protocol for this type of emergency is for unexposed first-responders to leave the immediate area so they can coordinate some type of quarantine. He says he doesn’t have the manpower for it, and the National Guard isn’t answering their phone.”

Mr. Matthews’ face blanches white a little, and I can see he has no idea what to do. “John, do you have a place where you can go to get out of town? Somewhere that has a lower population than Medford?”

“Yes. I can go to my sister’s place. She lives East of Klamath Falls. I’ll go there.” And he turns back to his house to begin his attempt to evacuate.