Under the Gray Skies Page 4

  Car running, I loaded my suitcase and backpack into the car, walked to the back and reached for the trunk. He had loaded that up with items. I didn’t have time to check them, but I did see a sleeping bag and I grabbed that. After closing the trunk, I walked to the man, undid the sleeping bag and covered him.

  It was crazy and under normal circumstances people would have thought me insane. I got in the car and opened up the glove compartment. It was hard to see, so I grabbed the bunch of papers from in there and rummaged through them. There were receipts from fast food, gas stations, one was a furniture rental receipt, another a phone plan agreement for a phone he just bought two weeks earlier and finally, his registration. James Herron.

  His name was James.

  I stepped from the car and stood above him.

  “Thank you, James,” I said. “Thank you so much.”

  Oddly, two people in their death unknowingly helped me to live. They provided the means for me to move forward, I would remember them and be grateful to them always.

  Two people in a city of the dead.

  Something inside told me that they would not be the last.

  I hoped that they would and that my journey for help would be short.

  I replaced all James’ glove box contents, shut the car door and pulled out of the driveway.

  The drive was short, there was a lot of zig zagging around traffic and debris, and a couple of times I had to turn down roads to go around rubble. The night fell quickly and I reached the edge of town just as it turned pitch black.

  There were no bonfires, no tents set up or FEMA crews, nothing.

  Silence and darkness. The temperature dropped and once again, strange lightening ripped through the clouds overhead. It didn’t feel or smell like rain like it had before, but I didn’t want to take a chance.

  At the end of the road, just before the highway began, I spotted a fire station. The garage doors were wide open, there were no fire trucks in there. There was however a blue pickup truck parked off to the side.

  The truck was empty. It probably belonged to one of the firemen. I pulled inside the station, into the garage and turned off the car.

  There I would make a small camp for the night.

  I did try the phones in there, again nothing.

  I was still working on the bistro snack pack. That was my meal. I wasn’t hungry for any more. I was more anxious to get home, to get in touch with my family. I wrote a little in my notebook, adding James’ name and what I got from him.

  Then I sat in the dark, the floor was my bed. I made a makeshift mattress out of coats that I found in the station. I had my airline blankets and pillow, and I lay there in the silence until I eventually fell asleep.

  NOTEBOOK – DAY TWELVE

  Janabel,

  I know you hate being called that. But I started to think back to when you were eight. When you liked being called that. What made me think of that? Your third grade field trip to the fire station. You loved the trucks and the pole.

  You will never guess where I am sleeping tonight. In a fire station. About this point in time, if we had phones, you and I would be texting non-stop.

  My buddy.

  I miss you, honey. I hope you are strong for Daddy and Evan. They need you. I also hope you know in your heart that I am trying to get home. I’m trying sweetie. It will just take time. I know Grandma told you I called. At least I hope she was able to. I could have imagined it. Sometimes I think I did.

  I love you with all of my heart and miss you so much.

  Mom

  TEN – ENGAGE

  La Fluff was the name of the dog I had since I was five years old. My parents got him as a family pet and I won the luck of the draw to name him. Of course, after I matured a little, I realized La Fluff wasn’t the coolest name. At least it matched his appearance. He was always shaggy.

  One thing, La Fluff did without fail was grab my foot and bite it when it was time to get up for school. Something my mother had taught him.

  He’d pull at my toes unless I was wearing socks. Always a struggle and fight with my foot.

  My whole life I stayed up late and slept even later. Every day it was the same thing. My dog waking me up, pulling my feet as my mother yelled in the distance.

  “Lacey Annabelle Budziszewisky, get up!”

  Yeah. I had a long name. Thank God I married a man with the last name Kale.

  My whole life the kids called me beer wench. My last name for some reason reminded them of a beer. At least my married name was a vegetable.

  My mother called my name in my dream, then added, ‘Please be alive’ as La Fluff pulled and bit my foot.

  I am alive, I thought in my dream. I called you.

  “Please be alive.”

  My foot moved.

  Then I realized my foot wasn’t just moving in my dream, something was pushing on it.

  “Please be alive,” the woman’s voice said.

  It was a voice.

  I opened my eyes and immediately sat up.

  “Oh, good.” She grabbed her chest. “You are.”

  I blinked trying to get her in focus. Who was she? A woman stood at the end of my makeshift bed staring down at me. She wasn’t a girl, she was a woman, but at that moment her age was hard to tell. Her thick bushy brown hair rested just below her shoulder blades. It was slightly unruly and she tucked one side behind her ear. Her face was full, round and clean, and her thick build body was somewhat camouflaged beneath the baggy 80s rock band t-shirt.

  “I was hoping you were all right,” she said. “I really didn’t think you were dead, but I didn’t want to assume, so I waited. I thought maybe it was my imagination that you were breathing. Lord knows I have seen and heard a lot of things that weren’t there. Being alone does that. I was watching you for a while. Not like a stalker, or someone that was gonna rob you and kill you. Just waiting. You know?” She pulled a chair close and a few empty airline bottles rolled. She grabbed a couple empties from the floor as she sat down. “Someone had quite the party last night.”

  “I was bored. It was hard to sleep.” I cleared my throat. “I have a stash.” I pointed to my backpack that rested near her against the wall.

  She reached for the open pack, peered in, then whistled. “That’s a lot of airline booze. Are you an alcoholic?”

  “No. I saw them. I took them. I don’t know why I grabbed so many …” With a grunt, I sat up. “I’m sorry. Are you … are you with the National Guard, FEMA, or the rescue people?”

  She chuckled. “No. Hardly. I haven’t seen any rescue people.” She laughed. “In fact, I haven’t seen any people since the choke.”

  “The Choke?”

  “That’s what I’m calling it. It will catch on. Watch.” She stood and after stepping over me, walked to the far wall, pointing at a rack of radios. “Have you tried any of these? Tried to reach someone? They may work. If we find batteries.” She lifted one.

  “Wait.” I staggered to a stand. “You really aren’t a rescue person?”

  “Do I look like a rescue person?”

  “No.”

  “So, why would you ask?’

  “We’re in the middle of all this,” I said. “I just …” I paused and extended my hand. “I’m Lacey. Who are you?”

  “I’m Madison.” She shook my hand. “And unless you and I find someone, or talk to someone …” She lifted the radio. “I’m gonna say I am pretty sure you and I are the last two people in the world, or at least …” She set down the radio. “In the state of California.”

  ELEVEN – STORIES

  Madison Hollister, that was her married name, described herself as a woman with Italian and Irish blood, she loved to feed people but watch out for her temper. I didn’t see it. How could this woman who seemed so nice and optimistic, despite everything, have a bad temper? Then again, I was meeting and getting to know her under some pretty dire circumstances.

  After I gathered my things, we shared a meal in the firehouse. A meager meal
, but neither of us really seemed to need any more. I rightfully assumed she was going to join me as I looked for help. I was glad to have her and grateful for not being alone.

  She offered me granola as she said, “We can save those little snack pack boxes for later. But

  you have to eat. We should get a move on, daylight lasts about six hours unless you haven’t noticed. Walking is tough when you’re hungry, too.”

  “I have a car.”

  “Yeah, well, so did I,” she said. “A car, a bike, a car again. You can only go so far then you have to walk. Just the way the cookie crumbles, or rather the world. Lots of walking. That’s why never grab more than you can carry. Don’t I just sound like the wizard of wisdom?” She smiled. “I’m new to this survival stuff. I never even camped. Not really good at this living tough stuff.”

  “What did you do for a living?” I asked.

  “Prior to kids … I worked at Sears, now I’m a stay at home mom.”

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit for living tough. That’s a hard job.”

  “Yeah, yeah it was.

  “Where are you from?”

  “My home is in Indiana,” she said. “I’m trying to get there, hoping my husband and boys are still alive.”

  I looked at her curiously. “Why home? We just really need to get help right?”

  Madison laughed subtly and stood. She grabbed remaining items and placed them in the car. With a serious expression she looked at me, while her fingers oddly rubbed a locket she wore around her neck. “There’s no help out there, Lace. None.”

  She wasted no time getting in the car. Barely had I eked out a, “what?” and she was in my car waiting to go.

  I got in, pulled out of the station and we began to drive. Madison stared out the window for the first couple blocks, obviously in deep thought.

  Then she exhaled and looked at me. “Where are you from?”

  “West Virginia.”

  “So we’re both in foreign land then, so to speak.”

  “You can say that.”

  “Tell me why you are so convinced there’s help out there?”

  “There has to be, right?” I said. “I mean, it makes sense.”

  As we drove toward the mountain road, I told her my story. How I ended up in California, and was leaving when everything happened. How I was trapped for ten days in that air pocket.

  “Then you don’t know what happened,” she said.

  “No, do you?”

  Madison shook her head. “Not really. It would be an educated guess, and really not that educated. You know, like when you know you are sick and have something and you go on line and put your symptoms in, and a whole bunch of different things pop up?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded.

  “Well, I can give you all the symptoms I saw, but it matches a dozen things. So instead of WebMD, it would be like DisasterMD.”

  “Is that why you are convinced there are no rescue stations or help?”

  “That and …”

  It was the second time it happened. Mid conversation we had to stop. I didn’t get to hear why at that moment, because just at the crest of the mountain road, we had to stop. Our pathway was blocked.

  Two cars and a truck, all smashed, blocked the lanes. A trail of rocks scattered around them and the shoulder of the road had crumbled in some sort of landslide.

  “This happens a lot,” Madison said and opened the door. “Get so far and something blocks the way. We’ll find another car.” She got out and immediately began taking things from the car. “At least it’s not hot.” She peered up. “Will you look at that sky.”

  I did, it was gray and thick.

  “It’s not even like an overcast day,” she said. “It’s like a big thick cloud of smoke is hovering.” She lifted her hand. “It’s almost like if I stand on tip toes I can touch it.”

  Madison was right. It hovered over us, close, too. Probably because we were at a higher altitude. I shouldered my bag and grabbed my suitcase. “Guess it’s time to walk,” I said.

  “You’ll get used to it. At least it’s all downhill from here, right?”

  I followed as she began a slow paced walk. “The map shows a town at the bottom of this road. Maybe there will be someone there, or help?”

  She shook her head. “There you go with that help thing again.”

  “Why are you so quick to dismiss that thought?”

  Madison stopped and looked at me. “Because I traveled over two hundred miles in the last ten days and you are the first, and only, person I have seen alive.” She turned back around. “That’s why.” She continued walking.

  We moved down that road in near silence, little conversation. Both of us saving our energy. In my mind I imagined looking down on a town and seeing movement, possibly even gloating to Madison about it. However, as soon the town was in view, all hope of finding help was lost.

  Longview, California was probably a quaint and lively small town at one time, but it was nothing but gray now.

  Immediately I saw that the buildings and other structures had partially crumbled. Cars were scattered everywhere about the roads, pieces of debris were not only on top of them but clumped about on the road. What made it different and grimmer was it was covered with a thin layer of ash. It covered everything like snow.

  “Pull up your face covering,” Madison recommended as we walked into town.

  The wheels of the suitcase made a crunching noise as it moved over the ash.

  Madison paused, bent down and touched the ash. She rolled her fingers together and winced. “Ow. Damn it.” She rubbed her hand on her leg. “Keep your nose covered. This ash has glass in it.”

  “Glass?”

  “Debris that blew in from somewhere.” She started to stand but paused. “Oh, God.” Her words were laced with an ache.

  “What? What is it?”

  Madison looked over her shoulder at me. I couldn’t see her facial expression because the cloth covered her nose and mouth. But I could see her eyes and they screamed horror. I peered beyond her wondering what she had seen, but it didn’t take much searching.

  Those clumps that were sporadically throughout the streets, the ones covered in ash, they weren’t debris after all, they were bodies.

  She closed her eyes. “That one is a child. I can’t look.”

  My eyes shifted down and a twitch hit my stomach.

  “Let’s go, walk around, something, not through.” She said. “We aren’t finding a useful car here.”

  I nodded and followed her lead. “What happened here? I mean, the bodies are covered in an ash.”

  “I know.”

  “They died before the ash fell. How? How did they all die?”

  Madison paused and shook her head. “DisasterMD answer … the choke. I can’t be sure, because I can’t see them.”

  “You said that term before, the choke. What are you talking about?”

  “It’s … you know what? Let’s just get away from all this debris, and this ash, then I’ll tell you. I promise. Because if you have to ask, you didn’t see it happen.”

  Again in keeping with our cliffhanger conversations, Madison said no more, she just kept walking.

  I was in complete agreement on getting away from the town. Learning about the choke could wait. We had nothing but time. After seeing Longview, California, not only was my hope of finding rescue crews diminished, I faced the harsh reality that the devastation was a lot bigger than I had even imagined.

  TWELVE – BLOCKED WINDOW

  At first, I didn’t understand quite why Madison did it, I thought it was an impulse. She walked right into that building.

  Before that we were having a conversation as we walked. Nothing deep because neither one of us wanted to breathe heavily.

  Then out of the blue, mid sentence, she stopped.

  A lot of things about her made me wonder. She seemed like a solidly good person, and I couldn’t determine whether it was the circumstances that made her act, for
lack of a better word, bipolar, or it was just who she was. Now, granted she didn’t go from down to angry or extremely happy. But, like a flip of a switch, Madison went from talkative, to quiet and almost sad.

  The sadness, I understood. I fought that myself. I tried to focus forward, getting help or finding my family which ever would come first.

  There was no real easy way to get around the small town of Longview. None. While we pushed through what I believed were the outskirts, we were still in the middle of the town. There were still houses that had partially crumbled, cars and bodies in the street. We strolled through and around, slowly through the ash, looking for a new vehicle. Transportation wasn’t our only concern.

  Daylight was short.

  “How did you know to check and feel the ash?” I asked her.

  “My father. He was a fireman and went to New York after the September 11 attacks. He told me. But this amount of ash … it didn’t come from this town.”

  I understood what she meant. When the towers fell they alone were probably more concrete than every structure in Long View combined.

  “Funny,” Madison said. “That’s how you described the cloud. Like from footage you saw of the Twin Towers falling.”

  “It did. Only bigger, it took up the whole sky and it looked like there was lightening in it.”

  Madison paused. “And it knocked everything down?”

  “Through our tram. What about you?”

  “I saw the cloud. It had a force, but it didn’t knock things down, it covered us all and kept on rolling. I suppose losing impact the further it rolled.”

  “What was it?”

  “I have several theories,” she said. “But I think it definitely came from the north. So … we really should think of heading south.”

  “We need to go east, both of us, in order to make it to our families.”

  “Lace,” she said my name with an edge to her voice. “They may not … never mind.”