Seven Weeks

If you would have told me seven weeks ago that I would get to experience Darwin’s theory on a daily basis you would have been the proud recipient of a playful “go fuck yourself”. Scavaging for food? Dying from a papercut? A new world order dictated by charismatic villains wielding barb wire wrapped basedball bats. GTFO. I watched all those old zombie and the “end of the world as we know it” movies and television shows. What are the chances that the canvas of the modern world would now resemble those farfetched dramas? I am not exactly sure how we ended up here - small wandering groups of citizens scavenging for necessities in cities and towns once bustling with life. I close my eyes and think back...

Seven weeks and one day ago I was managing a construction company. My wife and daughter were enjoying their summer vacation and planning a trip to the hill country to visit cousins and aunts. I had a pretty busy schedule and was setting up a job fair at our office to attract some potential crafts people when all of a sudden, every phone in the office went off then quickly fizzled out with an eerie, shrill tone. I looked at my phone. Blank screen. My assistant was anxiously trying to cycle the power back on. Before anyone could really do anything other than let a curse word slip, the power shut off. It was the most horrifying silence I had ever heard.

I rushed outside to witness numerous wrecks resulting from inoperable stop lights. Newer cars rolled to a halt and saturated the roads like grease clogged drains. My mind raced to try to figure out what was happening. I went back inside, made sure everyone was accounted for and grabbed my keys. An impotent click of the key fob assured me I wasn’t going anywhere in my car. Home was miles away and even if I could get on the road, I wouldn’t make it very far.

I walked to the back of our building and slid a weathered silver key into the warehouse door lock. It was darker than my Army Drill Sergeant’s heart back there with only a sliver of afternoon light piercing the darkness. After stumbling around in the crowded storeroom, I found what I was looking for - an old mountain bike that I had left here after some team building exercise a few years ago. I rolled it outside to find two soggy tires requiring air in order to function. Thank goodness for the small hand pump under the seat.

I made the 23 mile trip home. Along the way I observed every conceivable human reaction. People trying to rescue victims of serious automobile accidents. Looters helping themselves to the contents of local corner markets. Crying. Disbelief. It was as if time stopped for a brief moment and removed the proverbial fuse from everything in our modern world. I understand the electricity going out, but phones and cars?

A little more than an hour later, I came home to find my family sitting on the porch laughing and carrying on. My beautiful ladies, each wearing a matching heart shaped locket to commemorate my daughter’s birth. I told them what I saw. The laughter gave way to somber faces. We kicked around every possible “what if” we could think of. I was stumped. Without easy access to the Internet or news I didn’t think I would ever know. We scrounged for some packaged food for dinner and opened all the windows as it was the heat and humidity announced that summer was here.

The next morning, we woke to find that the water wasn’t working anymore. I scrounged around in my shop and found an old weather radio. I flipped on the switch to the sounds of static. I rolled the dial through the various frequencies until I heard the voice. I listened to the message by myself before sharing the news of our new reality with my family. The voice went on about total blackout. Loss of power. Loss of use of electronics. Minimal contact with local, state and federal government. Prepare for the worst. I walked outside so my wife and daughter could here the recorded message. The voice went on to say that reports of mass casualty events, suicides, riots and assaults were being transmitted by short wave radio users across the country. Some even estimated millions more would be dead from starvation, dehydration, lack of medical care and exposure. We did everything we could from trying to take packaged food and water from stores. It seems like everyone had a similar plan initially.

We coordinated with neighbors to maximize our chances but after a few days our makeshift council disintegrated as rampant crime, fires and despair took their toll in our town. I was sure that every other city and town was experiencing the same. It is easy to sit on our couch and figure out the best way for a group of people to survive in a time of crisis. That is, until you’re in the middle of the crisis dreaming of a comfortable couch and cold beer. I wish I could pinpoint when the really bad stuff started happening. It was such a blur and I really don’t care to reminisce about it. You don’t think too clearly when you haven’t eaten in 2 or 3 days and the little bit of water you can harvest doesn’t quench or refresh you. Maybe one day I will expand on that, but for right now, my group is preparing to move north. We heard those raiders that attacked last week had set up camp there. Maybe we can get our supplies back, because that’s all we really have left.

A lot can change in seven weeks. From building houses to fighting to make it through the day. I open my eyes and gently kiss the matching heart shaped lockets chained to my dog tags before summoning the strength to start my day.