Starting Over

June 1: It's been at least a week since the attack. My phone's been dead several days and I'm losing count of how many sunrises have come and gone. I wouldn't be here today if not for my job with the city's water works. My supervisor sent me underground to check on the water mains and valves...Routine maintenance. I never liked descending into the city's underbelly; I suffer bouts of claustrophobia. But on this occasion, being below the pavement, saved my life.

I still don't know what happened. Whenever the explosions started, my legs buckled and I dropped to my knees. I did something I haven't done in years. I prayed. Initially, I thought an earthquake struck, and I feared a cave-in. My radio chirped to life. Someone was screaming, "We're being attacked...all city officials report to..." I heard another loud explosion and the radio went silent.

I remember 9/11. In fact, I worked for New York City when the planes flew into the Twin Towers. Standing less than a mile away, I watched as the buildings collapsed, trapping and killing thousands of people. My radio buzzed to life that day as well...a similar message broadcast, "We've been attacked...send aid..." It's now 30 years later, and someone has once again crippled my city. I thought moving out to the Midwest would be a safe bet. Who ever heard of anything dangerous happening in Cedar Rapids, Iowa? But here I am...

When the thunderous booms stopped, I climbed out of the city's drainage channels and surveyed the damage. Piles of rubble stood where financial institutions and retail buildings once thrived. Raging fires dotted the now empty skyline; billowing smoke burned my eyes as I looked for survivors. I heard voices buried in the rubble; with only my hands and a shovel I salvaged from my mangled truck, I dug some out. Many others perished before I could render aid.

Bloodied survivors walked around like zombies, shock setting in. Those able to carry on a conversation said that this wasn't an isolated attack. It happened all across the Country. According to conflicting government reports no one knew who to blame, though I had my suspicions. A medical lab in China "accidentally" released a virus in 2020, killing hundreds of thousands of people worldwide. In recent months, they've been demanding we pay them back the money we owe them from longstanding debts. The President at the Treasury Department laughed it off. Maybe they're getting our attention.

I guess I should note that even though I've been wandering around the remains of this city now for a week, this is my first entry. I found a notebook flapping in the wind. Most of the pages were blank though on one sheet someone had started a grocery list. I found a pen in the suitcoat of a man, now deceased. Since I have no transportation and no means of communication, I feel I should just hunker down where I am. Anyway, where would I go? My soon to be ex-wife lives in California and my parents passed a few years ago of Covid. I'll post again later...

June 6th: I made a companion today. Though I've tried to befriend people, everyone is leery and suspicious, constantly on the move, walking with heads down, mumbling, moaning, fearing eye contact. Many have walked out of town...to where? I have no idea. Anyway, my buddy is of the four-legged variety. His tag says "My name's Milo. If found please return me to 746 Castleton Road." A silver plated bracelet was wrapped around his collar and a small heart-shaped locket dangled freely from the chain. I opened it and found a picture of a small girl and Milo snuggled closely together. Etched on the back were the words, "Molly and Milo." I choked back tears as I thought about my Molly and our recent separation. I found a couple of short pieces of rope, tied them together and made a leash. We walked for over an hour to discover that nothing remains of Castleton Road. At least I think that street was Castleton. Where neighborhoods once existed, only debris remains. One lonely swing creaked in the breeze, once a child's pastime, now forever vacant. The shock waves of the explosions flattened the street signs and nothing looks familiar. The city I once knew like the back of my hand no longer exists.

I guess I should address my food supply. I'm scrounging through the remains of restaurants and grocery stores like everyone else. That's how I found Milo...or Milo found me. He smelled the lunch meat I was eating and he crawled out from under a crumpled car. He approached cautiously, with head down and his tail drooping. I tossed him a little piece of ham and he gobbled it right down. That was at 10:00 this morning. As I look to the West, the sun is setting and he hasn't left my side. I enjoy his company.

June 18th: It's been almost two weeks since I've written. Not much has happened. I started another entry a couple of days ago, but my pen ran out of ink. I found a package of sharpened pencils resting in the remains of a Dollar General Store.

Milo and I explore every day. We encounter very few people as most have fled to parts unknown. (I still believe help will come.) However, we did discover a small group gathering on the lawn of what used to be the Community Church. Milo and I listened as they sang a couple of familiar hymns. I hummed a line or two. Milo pulled at the leash to chase a bird; I smiled and waved as I held on for dear life. They were friendly people. The first I'd seen in a couple of weeks.

June 27th: Milo and I experienced some excitement today. As I lifted a sheet of metal around a deli, I cut my hand. Milo and I walked back to my utility truck. I army crawled into the back of the vehicle hunting for my first aid kit. I heard Milo growling and then he started barking ferociously. Then he yelped. I scooted back out of the truck and witnessed a man attempting to steal my dog. Holding Milo with one hand, he pulled a knife on me as I closed in. I remembered some of the martial arts training from my youth. I roundhouse kicked the knife out of his hand. Milo flipped to the ground and scampered under the truck. As my assailant closed in, I caught his jaw with an uppercut and he crumpled to the pavement. Milo and I walked quickly away, not wanting to be around when he came to.

The cut on my hand will be fine.

June 30th: Milo and I were rescued today. A couple of Army choppers flew over my decimated town and saw me frantically waving my arms. They found an open lot a few hundred yards away, and sat the bird down there. One of the soldiers greeted me with a bottle of water and another tossed me an MRE. I asked for a second and he obliged...Milo was grateful. I assured there were other survivors and pointed in the direction of where I had seen those worshipping a few days earlier. They sent out a search and rescue team while Milo and I enjoyed the safety and shelter of the helicopter.

At that moment I realized I was lucky. Some might call it blessed. I borrowed a phone and called my wife. She picked up on the 2nd ring. She sounded relieved to hear my voice. Her location in Northern California had been spared the attack. We chatted until the propellers started spinning and agreed to talk again soon. She hinted we might be able to patch things up and get back together. Life's too short to spend time without the ones you love. When I heard her voice, I realized how much I missed her.

August 1: Well, Molly and I are renewing our vows. She requested a church ceremony and I told her I knew a place. It had an open airy feel, a couple of pews and a cross slightly charred and tilted on the property. I might even be able to round up a few people to be witnesses. I became friends with several who were a part of that small group on the helicopter ride out of Cedar Rapids. I've talked to one of the guys every day. He's agreed to be my best man.

Oh...and Molly will allow Milo to be the ringbearer.

The heart-shaped locket now hangs around my Molly's neck. A selfie of Molly, Milo and I rests inside. I also had a jeweler add the words, "and Me" to the back.

Life won't ever be the same...but for me, it's a new beginning. And I am grateful.