The Last Blade Of Grass (13 page)

“Donald! We need to go!” Karen screams, and the truck starts moving forward. The feel and sound of crunching as the truck drives over these people is sickening. Joshua actually throws up in the back, and I know we will all feel like that at some point in our journey out of town.

So this is our immediate future. In order to survive, we need to turn against every civilized instinct we have tried to ingrain into modern society. We must revert back to our tribal roots and begin killing other groups of people in order to survive. No more caring for the sick among us to help spread humanities warmth.

We didn’t just run over a disease or infected monsters out there, they were people. No more caring for and protecting the smallest and weakest amongst us regardless of their situation in life. Every life, even a child’s life, will have to be weighed against our own survival. We will have to kill children just as we had to run over that little girl. That little girl and the dead baby she was dragging behind her.

The next few blocks I sort of tune out. I am here, of course, but just floating in the moment like a bad dream. Every person has their point, their button. Sometimes it is a breaking point, sometimes an epiphany, but there is a point for everyone in which something happens and nothing will ever be the same again. Seeing that little girl was my moment.

I always wanted to have a family. I wanted to be happily married and have kids and truly be with my family. I wanted to actually be in their lives not just a side-note of a man who shows up in-between his working hours to eat and sleep. That was my ultimate goal, and I achieved it. Every moment from the point that I got married and on was doing what I thought would first keep us safe, and second, allow us to spend as much time together as possible.

My own childhood was not bad. While I can call my upbringing indifferent and not particularly close or caring in an emotional way, I wasn’t abused or neglected. My experience growing up was like spending time with friends or acquaintances rather than a close bond of family. So because of the indifference I knew while maturing, I wanted to give to my wife and kids a loving family with a devoted husband and father, to which I believe I have been largely successful.

To keep us safe I actively pursued training in firearms for my wife, myself, and my kids, and got into the prepping side of life to ensure that no matter what happens in life, my family will stay safe, secure, and have enough food to eat.

Seeing that little girl in the road is a new moment for me. Even with all that I have done to make sure we had as much quality time together as possible, we aren’t together now. I know that I shouldn’t be out here alone. My wife and I should be here together with our kids, and I should not have left her at the ranch. As terrible as this moment is, it is something that we should be going through as a family, not as individuals in our own segment of the world’s destruction.

The visions of what is happening outside the windows of this compartment can be described, but must be experienced to wholly comprehend. I will tell her about this trip, but she will never be a part of this experience that I have shared with Donald, Joshua, Karen, and Katy. In this moment, I am an outsider in their shared family experience.

“I think we’re clear of the bad part,” Donald says as he points to the clear road ahead. “It looks like we were just seeing the leading edge of this thing where we were. We are only five blocks from that guy Matt’s house.”

“Five blocks?” I ask. In my mind it feels like we have been driving for hours. “Okay. Donald, I want to get out of town as fast as we can, but we need to make one more stop now that we are clear of the current infection zone.”

A chorus erupts at my statement, of, “What? What are you talking about?” and, “We aren’t going to stop anywhere else.”

“Look, I’m sorry but we have to search the truck. Donald, you need to get us to a good sized parking lot or area where you can pull over. Find someplace where we can see if anyone is approaching the truck from any side. I need to get out and check if any of the infected people are hanging on or stuck to the truck somewhere. All of the supplies in the world won’t help us if we give an infected person a ride to my ranch tonight.”

“That looks like a shopping center up ahead. They might have an area, but with so many cars driving in and out, I doubt it’s clear.”

Donald slows the truck because people are running around, and the people in cars are driving like idiots.

“Do you think these people are infected?” Karen asks, and we are all wondering as well.

“They aren’t walking like the people back at the street we came from. They look like people that are just panicked.”

There is a grocery store in this shopping center that is being rampaged. People are running out the front door with carts full of stuff. These look like regular people, and they are taking regular things. There are some people out there with your typical riot issue stolen TV or armful of clothes, but most of the carts look like they’re full of canned goods and food.

“It looks like people are finally in full panic mode. Is there anything different on the radio?” I ask and switch it on myself.

It’s just the same emergency broadcast warning to stay indoors and watch for people acting strangely. Joshua starts scanning through all of the stations and hits one of the smaller ones which is no longer issuing the emergency broadcast.

“Folks, I am getting reports of massive rioting going on here in the Medford area. Right now it seems to be centered in the northeast area but is spreading to the south and west quickly. I’m getting reports on my HAM radio that people are just attacking one another in the streets. It doesn’t seem to be any type of organized riot…”

“Does anyone know the phone number to this station?” I ask. “If we can call him and tell him what we know, we might be able to save some people.”

“I have a phone book in the glove compartment,” Donald says. I reach in and grab it but give Donald a strange look for having it there. “I haul stuff for people all over the southern area and don’t always trust the phone numbers on invoices when I’m making a delivery,” he explains.

“Damn it! I still have no service with my phone. Are any of yours connecting?” I ask in frustrated anger.

They all shake their heads
no,
and I scratch mine in thoughtful frustration. This morning, most people could have let anyone around the planet know exactly what they were doing and also provided an instant video of it as well. Right now, we can’t even call the local radio station to let them know what is going on.

“Hey, Dad? I think this station is on the side of town we’re heading to. Since we are already moving away from the infection, we could run in there, and tell the guy in person.”

“Tell me the address, son,” Donald says, and Karen puts an approving hand on Joshua’s shoulder. Katy is sitting on Karen’s lap.

The whole scene is touching, and the sentiment is just and noble. I agree that we should tell as many people as we can about what is really going on, but a selfish part of me doesn’t want to delay getting back to Simone and my kids any longer than I have to. This situation is easier for them to bear because they are all together. No matter what takes place tonight, whether we make it back home alive or not, they are already together, and won’t have to wonder what happened to the people they love. I don’t know what's occurring back at the ranch. I can only assume and speculate that everyone is okay.

I don’t say what I am thinking, but I am a terrible poker player, and I know my displeasure is visible. I guess my look causes Donald to worry, because he asks, “Do you think it's too dangerous to stop there?”

“No, actually, I think it is the right thing to do. I’m just having a hard time not being with Simone and my kids right now. Especially, since we saw that little girl on the road.

“The look you see on my face is one hundred percent selfish, and I know if we can safely stop at that station and warn people, then it is what we have to do. Humanity’s sake aside, every person that we can warn and save from this thing is someone we won’t have to fight in the future. I mean, we won’t have to fight them as an infected person, anyway.”

Our survival luck seems to be continuing. The radio station is situated at the edge of the industrial area of town, and there is plenty of room for Donald to park his rig and for me to get out and check it. The Illness or disease is somewhere a couple miles back, and we have the space to get the truck clear so we can safely make it back to my ranch. However, now that Donald has stopped the truck, I am a little hesitant to open the door. I am ready to see almost every type of carnage that may be hanging, swinging, or grasping to stay attached to this truck. What I am not ready to see is that little girl again.

“Eddie, we’ll go together, okay?” Donald says. He must have mistaken my hesitation and look of apprehension with a general fear of getting out of the truck, and he starts opening his door to show his support that we would go together.

“No, No, No. Stop! Damn it! Keep the door closed!” I yell at him. Fortunately, he isn’t quick at opening it, and has just unlatched it. He froze at my first yell of, ‘No,’ and remains frozen as if he has stepped on a landmine pressure plate and can't move without setting it off.

“Donald, roll down your window first, and look out to see if anything is hanging onto your door or the door-step, and look all around as well. If no one is out there then open your door enough so you can close it so it latches.”

Donald looks up, down and around and opens his door a bit them slams it closed.

“Look, Donald, I appreciate the solidarity of you coming with me, but everyone in life has certain levels of importance. I can’t drive this truck, so I am less important than you in getting us home. You need to stay in the cab and let me check the truck. Then I’ll go in and speak with the guy on the radio, you stay here with your family. We need you to get us home.”

I look out my window, and then roll it down to check for anyone hanging on and waiting to grab me. I pull out my handgun, and get ready to go. “Joshua, close the door behind me, okay? I’m going to jump away from the truck in case anything is hanging on underneath.”

I open the door, jump out, and turn to look at the truck. There is some blood sprayed on the side a bit by the tires, but as I walk crouched along the front looking at its underside, I don’t see any bodies, either whole or in pieces. I make it all the way around and see nothing more than the red spray and splatter by the tires, and some on the grill. So I call up to the door where Joshua is sitting. “Do you think you can get up on the top of the truck from the cab so you can keep a lookout?”

He nods.

“Take a gun with you, Joshua. Donald, blow the horn if you need me to get out of there. I shouldn’t be too long, I’ll just give him one of these letters and tell him what we’ve seen and heard.” And I turn and go into the radio station.

*

The final stretch of the drive home is filled with more silence. I know I am in a slight state of shock and disbelief over what we have seen. The worst part of the horror we witnessed tonight is that we only saw a small portion, a little snippet of the carnage that is playing out in streets around the world right now. I just hope I chose our ranch’s location wisely, and that it is set in the hills and woods far enough from Medford and Grants Pass to avoid any major activity.

We’ll be home soon enough so at least I can hold Simone and the kids. I lean over in my seat, rest my head against the window, and gaze out at the pavement, brush, and trees that float by in the trucks headlights.

Chapter Five

Building a New Home

There is trouble at the ranch. I can see the sky lit up at the ranch’s location. It looks like a large fire being reflected off a pillar of smoke in the sky. My heart is thumping out of my chest, and I hold my breath while we pull into the property. The main house is in flames and people are standing across the yard watching as it burns. I can see Simone and the kids all next to each other in the crowd.

I don’t expect the fire department to show up for this while the world is falling apart. Not that they would know there is a fire here anyway with the phones being down. Donald stops the truck and I jump from the cab and run over to everyone standing in the yard. I need to get to Simone and the kids, and find out what happened.

They are all so transfixed on the flaming house that they don’t even see me walk up until I am right next to them. I just grab Simone and pull her to me in a tight hug.

“You left us here alone,” she says in a sobbing voice into my shoulder. I can feel her tears on my neck.

“I’m sorry, Simone. I know I shouldn’t have gone. What happened to the house? How did the fire start?”

“You left us here alone,” she says again and looks up at me. Her face is stained with blood, the blood that was dripping on my neck, and I thought was tears. But I really didn’t think they were tears. Tears don’t keep flowing in a thick stream the way this liquid was. I guess I knew even as I ran up that my family was dead the way they were just standing there staring at the fire. I ran into my wife’s arms knowing that it would be my death and knowing that it was the only place I wanted to be.

“I shouldn’t have left you alone. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t leave us alone,” Donald says from behind the wheel. “Are you all right?”

I look left and see Donald behind the wheel of the truck. “Yeah, just daydreaming, and a horrible dream, too.”

“Well, we’re here, so you can tell me where you want me to put the truck,” Donald says as we drive up to the gate.

“Just drive back toward the barn over there where you parked earlier today. We’ll leave it there and figure out where to put everything over the next few days.”

Arthur, the caretaker is at the main gate, and opens it up to let us drive in. Simone, Conner, and Samantha all come out of the house as we drive by. I’m happy to see Simone carrying a gun. I’ll need to make sure everyone starts carrying wherever they go.

*

Finally back at the house, we have time to discuss what is going on. Arthur got most of his family to come, and Conner made it with his wife, Samantha, and their son, Jake. Arthur and Conner have decided to take watch and walk the perimeter of the immediate yard circling the buildings, while I speak with the group. Our dogs are out as well. They growled at the truck when they first smelled it, so we know they don’t like the odor that the infected put off. We are assuming at this point that they will at least bark at anything that smells similar to the infected.

I don’t relish the idea of going into a house full of strangers and telling them the world has just ended. It was one thing owning the shop and prepping for disasters with like-minded people, but telling people that aren’t part of the prepping community about the end of the world doesn’t usually end well. Hopefully, these people will accept what is happening in Medford from my descriptions. I don’t know what I would be willing to accept without seeing it for myself.

I guess now that it is here, I can honestly say even I am shocked. I prepared for the ultimate disaster, but always thought we would see a six month, or at most, a two year event where things eventually go back to normal. A global pandemic on this scale takes decades, maybe even centuries, to bounce back from.

The house is packed with people and kids. There looks to be about 50 plus either standing around and chatting with each other or sitting and waiting for information. Arthur told me on the way in that he gave everyone a basic idea of what might be happening, but none of these people had been in Medford, and nothing happened yet in Grants Pass, so they don’t know how bad it is. It’s nice despite current circumstances, seeing everyone happily chatting with friends and relatives they don’t often see together. It helps to counter the horror I’ve just witnessed while on the road.

This is the job that I asked for when I invited people to come here. I guess it’s time for me to ruin the mood and bring everyone up to speed.

“Hello,” I announce, getting everyone’s attention. “For those of you that don’t know me, I am Eddie Keeper, and I own this land. For many of you, what I am going to tell you will sound crazy or like some kind of wild story meant to scare you and your kids, but I just returned from Medford with Donald here,” pointing to Donald standing next to me. “He and his family will attest to what we all saw happening there and what we’ve heard is happening all over the country right now.”

I speak to the group for the better part of an hour, telling them everything from the start of the news this morning, to the blood soaked people walking the streets of Medford. The looks from people as I spoke were an assortment of fear and disgust, to outright disbelief and anger. What I told them was a shock to all they believed was possible. I can’t blame them for not wanting to accept the things I say I saw. No one wants to think that the world can change so drastically in such a short amount of time, but this is the world we live in now. The faces of anger and skepticism fade as I finally tell them about the little girl that we thought was dragging a doll. Now, fear and shock are worn on all the faces. Many people are holding each other and crying.

“I know many of you don’t want to believe that this is happening. I don’t want to believe it either. Even after we saw the people running and the man being bitten by his father, I didn’t want to accept that this was anything other than people just acting crazy, or maybe some more bath salts addicts, but that isn’t what this is. Once we saw the little girl, we all knew that the threads of information we grabbed throughout the day were true. You all need to understand what you and your families are up against.

“I’ve been told that some of you only came here tonight to hear what I had to say, and you plan on staying at your own homes and properties to try and survive this. I welcome all of you to stay here with us and encourage you to do so. The more people we have together, the better chance we all have to survive.”

“What about our friends or relatives? The ones that aren’t here, will you let them join us?” Randy Langford, Arthur’s brother, asks.

“For right now, every decent person that you know is welcome. Friends and family or people that you’ve worked with and know are good people. The difficulty will be contacting them, since all forms of communication are down, including telephone land lines.”

“For right now?” another voice asks from the crowd.

“We won’t be able to let just anyone in on an unlimited basis. There are only so many resources to go around, and when supplies grow thin, we will limit entry to those that have specific skills we can use here on the ranch. I’m not sure how long we have before we start limiting people coming in.”

“What about my husband?” Beth Murphy asks. “I tried calling him earlier, but I didn’t get him before the phones all died.” She begins to cry.

Patricia Langford hugs her, and says, “I know, honey. Our son Matthew is in Washington, and we can’t reach him either.”

“We will still be letting people in over the next week at least, and missing family members will be welcomed if they show up. Again, providing they are decent people. I can’t give you an exact timeframe, because I haven’t planned for anything of this scope. At least not something that also took out the government and military at the outset like this thing has. All of our plans were for survival until the government was able to re-establish control and some form of safety for the citizens.”

There are a few more random questions from the group, but mostly aimed at each other and specific people they know rather than anything I can answer, so I step off to the side to talk with Simone.

As the gathering breaks up people are hugging and crying. Many are talking about loved ones that are missing and what might be going on. I am thankful that I have my immediate family with me, but my relatives are spread throughout the U.S. My mother is here with us. She’s sixty-seven and was living near the ranch. During most days she would come here to play with the animals and grow vegetables. It’s nice to have her here and know she isn’t alone somewhere wondering if any of her kids are going to survive this outbreak.

I have a sister in Hawaii who I couldn’t reach before the phones went down. I called my dad in Louisiana. I was able to get him a warning about what's going on, but it was basically a quick goodbye for both of us. He lives in New Orleans, and his wife is on oxygen and can’t travel. He told me he loved me and to keep my kids safe. I told him I loved him as well and hoped he could make it up here, but knew it wasn’t possible. When I called my sister in Portland, her husband wasn’t home. She was going to try to reach him and head down here. Out of my extended family, only my sister in Portland has a chance to make it here to safety. Of course, that is presuming that we have a chance here at the ranch.

Simone called her Mom and two brothers in Washington, but with things falling apart so quickly everywhere, they might as well have been in Louisiana with my dad instead of just one state over. Unless this thing burns out quickly or the infected die right away, travelling is going to be too dangerous for a long period of time. Hell, staying in one place is going to be too dangerous as well. I guess I’ll see if having these supplies will mean anything.

I walk into the kitchen and grab a glass of water from the sink. I hate water. I’ve never liked the empty taste of it, but I guess it’s time for me to start appreciating it. There won’t be any sports drinks manufactured anymore.

“Eddie?”

I turn and see Randy standing in the doorway, with his wife. I’m exhausted and don’t want to say anything more, so I just nod at him with a sad smile, and sit at the table.

“When Arthur came by today after not seeing him for so long and told me what was going on, I thought he was drunk again. This is real though, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid it is.”

“I appreciate you offering to take us all in. I know there are a lot of mouths to feed between all of us, do you have the supplies for this kind of thing?”

“Honestly, Randy, I don’t know. I’ve been putting quite a bit of stuff away for the last four years. I started before we moved here and opened my store. It will all run out eventually though, faster with more people, and we will need to start growing our own food and raising our own livestock if we can manage to live long enough for that. I had Arthur in charge of the inventory, so I just don’t know.”

“I thought all survival types like you knew exactly what they had. That’s part of being ready, right, knowing when you’ve got enough?”

“When we moved here we had enough long term food stored for my wife and kids, and ten other people, to last two years. I thought at the time if things get bad my extended family might be able to make it here, and we would ride out whatever storm there was together. Since then, I just continued storing more supplies. With every order I placed for the store or for a customer, I would order extra for the ranch, or just to get a better discount and bring it here. Even without it, Randy, Arthur is my family now, and I won’t turn his people away.”

“Thank you,” Randy’s wife, Patricia, says.

“What about that poor woman Bethany’s husband? Is there some way we can pick him up from his job? Beth’s husband is working in North Dakota. She says he moved there to work in the oil industry. He was in construction, and I’m sure you’re aware how those jobs completely dried up after the last downturn. He was saving up and was going to send for her and their two daughters in the spring. We should do something for her if we can.”

“I don’t even know a way to safely get my own sister from Portland, let alone get someone here from North Dakota. I truly wish there was, Patricia, but I’m afraid not.”

I shake my head silently and they turn to leave.

“Oh Randy, I almost forgot. Sorry to bring it up now, but I don’t know what time we have left for things. What about the fencing supplies? Did any of that stuff make it here today?”

“Our big truck was already loaded and out delivering when Arthur came by. We loaded what we could on the two smaller flatbeds but still have a bunch to bring up here.”

“If you are willing, and it's safe, I would like to bring everything you have from your yard up here to the ranch. We’re going to need a lot of building materials beyond the fencing as time goes on.”

“Whatever we can get up here we will,” he says and leaves the kitchen.

Simone sits down at the table while holding Benjamin, and asks, “Should we tell people to stay here tonight?”

“We probably should,” I say and nod. “At least I’ll let them know it’s okay if they want to. I don’t really know what is best, though. Should they stay tonight and be too late to help their friends and family tomorrow? Or should they go now and possibly get caught by the infection somewhere?”

I don’t stay to get an answer. I just go outside and leave it to the people to decide for themselves what they should do.

*

Grants Pass