Alone: Book 1: Facing Armageddon (13 page)

-27-

     Hi Baby. I hope you and the girls are well and not worrying too much about me. I’ve decided that worrying about you just depresses me and stresses me out, so I’ve decided not to do it anymore. I know that you arrived safely, I know that Tommy and Susan were there to pick you up, and I know that Tommy is capable of getting you all back to their place safely. So worrying about you is just a wasted emotion.

     Instead, I try to spend my time thinking about the day we’ll be together again.

     I was looking through all of the stuff you printed off the internet over the last few months. You never got around to sorting it all out, like you’d planned on doing. But that was okay. Actually, it was good, because I came across all kinds of other stuff I can use. Like planting schedules for wheat and corn.

     That wasn’t what I was looking for, though. What I was looking for were maps, in the event
we ever had to bug out and try to make our way to Tommy and Susan’s place. And once again, you didn’t let me down. I found the map between the first aid procedures and the recipe for making sourdough bread in the campfire oven. Which, by the way, I’ve been wanting to try ever since. I figure this is a good time to do it, since the stench of the decaying bodies will surely cover up the smell of bread baking in the back yard.

     Anyway, now that I have the map, I can make firm plans to come and get you guys at some point in the future. I don’t know when, exactly. I think it’s too risky right now. I hope that eventually, when all the shooting dies down, it’ll be an indication that the world has become a safer place. And that maybe all of the looters will have been shot like the guy out there on the street.

     Of course, when it gets to that point, it could also mean that the good guys are all dead, and the thugs don’t have anybody left to shoot anymore.

     In any eve
nt, it’ll take me several weeks to get to you, traveling at night and having to stop frequently to forage for food.

     It’ll take even longer to bring you back. We’ll have to move more slowly and cautiously with the girls.

     I checked the box of parts and I’m confident it’s got everything I need to get my Explorer started. Of course, it’ll take a little bit of work, and I’ll have to work at night, but I tested the night vision goggles and they work quite well. It’ll be a little bit odd, working on a car when everything is all green. But the alternative is working on it during the daytime and risking somebody trying to take it away from me as soon as I get it started.

     I’m trying not to get my hopes up that I can even get it going. In theory, I can, by bypassing or replacing all the electronic components. But I’m not going to take anything for granted. You not being here broke me of that habit. It’s the only thing we didn’t have a contingency plan for, and I’m kicking myself in the ass every day. I shouldn’t have let you guys go without me. My place is by your side, and I feel that I let you down.

     Even if I can’t get the Explorer running, I’m still coming for you. I figure ten miles a night, maybe twelve, with every third night off so I can forage for food and water. I can walk and make it in four months, maybe five.

     It would be a small price to pay to see you again.

     But I’d much rather drive. It’ll be faster. 

-28-

     Dave was working in the Hansens’ back yard two weeks later, digging up the grass with a long handled shovel. One shovel full at a time, he was turning the dirt over to clear the grass and weeds from the soil..

     It was his second pass through.

     He’d finished turning over the entire yard a couple of days before. Then he went through it with a garden rake, raking what he could of the grass and roots. Once he had them in a pile, he’d let them dry out, and then put them in trash bags and store them in his garage. It would serve as rabbit food during the winter, when the grass was scarce.

    
San Antonio usually had very mild winters, and the grass seldom went completely dormant. Even an occasional freeze was only temporary, and the thickest parts of the lawn somehow managed to stay green. But the growth of the grass slowed to a trickle during the cold weather months. Dave was afraid it might not be enough to sustain the growing rabbit population. So he’d build up a good supply of dried grass and store it in the garage until he needed it.

     His plan was to go through the entire yard three times, turning the soil each time. Then he’d give the grass a day to dry out in the sun, before raking it out of the way.

     If, after the third turn, he couldn’t see any more grass or grass roots, he’d call it good and start planting his crops. A third of the yard would be his wheat crop. Another third would be corn, and the rest of the space would be used for a vegetable garden.

     He wasn’t looking forward to the planting. He knew it would be backbreaking work, and since it was just him now he’d have to work a lot harder to get the crops in. But he’d do it. And he wouldn’t complain.

     Well, maybe a little bit.

     He’d been watching the clouds darken throughout the day, and now as he sniffed the air he could definitely smell rain in the distance.

     He smiled, remembering the first time he told Sarah he could smell rain.

     She’d said, “Yeah, right!”

     Dave just looked at her. He thought everybody could smell rain.

     “Seriously.”

     She was still skeptical.

     “You mean to tell me that you can smell rain coming?”

     “Yes, of course. I’ve always been able to. You mean you can’t?”

     “No. And I think you’re pulling my leg, too. What does rain smell like, Mister Smarty Pants?”

     Dave was at a loss. How do you describe the smell of rain?

     “Gee, I don’t know how to describe it, honey. It’s sort of like how it smells after a rain, like after the rain cleanses everything. Only not as strong. Like a vague version of that.”

     She looked at him with her head cocked.

     “So, what does your nose tell you exactly, Mr. Prognosticator?”

     “Excuse me? We’re resorting to name-calling now?”

     Sarah laughed the little girl laugh that always won his heart.

     “No, silly. A prognosticator is someone who makes predictions. What does your nose tell you? Is it going to rain today?”

     “Yes, definitely.”

     “But it’s barely cloudy.”

     “Doesn’t matter. I can smell it in the distance. The smell is being carried in by the same wind that’ll bring the rainclouds later today.”

     “Are you sure you didn’t just watch the weather so you could pull a prank on me?”

     “Nope. I promise I didn’t.”

     Sarah knew Dave would never break a promise to her, no matter what.

     “How sure are you?”

     “I’m positive.”

     “So, if it doesn’t rain before nightfall you’ll take me out to dinner tomorrow?”

     “Sure. But if it does rain before nightfall you have to make me anything I want for dinner tomorrow. Deal?”

     “Deal.”

     “Good. I’ll be wanting your world famous lasagna, so you might want to peek into the fridge and make sure we have everything.”

     “You’re pretty sure of yourself, huh?”

     “Yep.”

     At that mo
ment, Sarah’s cell phone hand rang. It was her best friend Karen calling.

     “Hi, Karen.”

     “Hi, Sarah. What are you doing?”

     “Not much. Just standing in the back yard. Dave is trying to convince me that he can smell rain before it gets here.”

     “Well, of course he can. I can too. You mean you can’t?”

     Dave
couldn’t hear Karen’s words, but he could read the expression on Sarah’s face and knew pretty much what she’d said.

     He laughed and stuck out his tongue.

     “Oh, boy. I can’t wait for that big ole plate of lasagna…”

     He smiled, remembering the conversation as though it had taken place the day before. He could
still vividly see the look of disappointment and shock on Sarah’s pretty face when she found that others could smell rain and she couldn’t.

     She later told him she felt deprived.

     Then Dave remembered the way Lindsey loved to walk in the summer rain. She’d come to him and take his hand to pull him up from his easy chair.

     “Come on, Dad, let’s take a walk.”

     “You nut. It’s raining.”

     “I know. That’s why I want to go. That’s the best time. The rain washes away all of the ugliness and dirt, and leaves everything refreshed.”

     “Are you serious?”

     “Yes, Dad. Are you getting so old that you’ve lost the desire to play in the rain?”

     And as usual, he gave in to her. He almost always did when his daughters wanted something.

     Lindsey was still on his mind as he finished putting the
dried grass into the last of the lawn and leaf bags. He was tossing them over the fence from the Hansens’ yard into his own when the first drops started to fall.

-29-

     As the first drops hit his face, Dave shifted into high gear. He tossed the last of the bags over the fence and then ran back to the Hansen house. He removed the snap-on lids from the Hefty cans at the corners of the house so the runoff from the roof would fill them. Then he scrambled back into his own yard, careful to close his hidden gate behind him. He didn’t want any of the rabbits to get into the Hansens’ yard and take up residence there.

     He grabbed the bags of grass and tossed them onto the back deck. Then he removed the lids from the Hefty cans at the corners of his own house, just as the rainwater began pouring out of the downspouts.

     Spring rains in San Antonio came in torrents. He knew it wouldn’t take long for all of the cans to fill, and while it wouldn’t be suitable for drinking, it would provide him with a lot of water to irrigate his crops with.

     He stopped only long enough to catch his breath before going back into the yard. The rabbits were scrambling for sh
elter under the eaves of the house or on the deck, and probably thought the human insane for going out into the downpour.

     But Dave still had a lot of work to do.

     He went to the east fence and picked up the tarp that was rolled up against it. He unrolled it, hooking the grommets on one side of the tarp to the screws on the top rail of the fence. The other side was stretched to the two fence posts he’d buried before, and was hooked to screws on top of the posts.

     Then he retrieved a Hefty can from the deck and placed in between the posts, at the
spot where the center of the tarp dipped down slightly. Immediately, water began flowing into the can.

     While the first can was filling, Dave ran to the west side of th
e yard and did the same thing with his second rain tarp.

     He had only a few minutes to catch his breath, and shifted into a lower gear.

     The empty water bottles were already close by. He’d taken them from the attic a couple of days before and piled them, still in trash bags, on the back deck. Now he walked over to the deck and started moving them into the yard, next to the Hefty cans.

     The cans were rapidly filling with water now. The east can was three quarters of the way full.

     Dave ripped open one of the trash bags and took out the first of about twenty empty two liter soda bottles. He removed the cap and shoved it beneath the water, watching the bubbles rise quickly to the surface as it filled with rain water.

     He had no time to be neat and organized. He wanted to stay ahead of the rain, so he could fill all of his remaining bottles. And he’d never stopped to count them, but he was certain he had at least two hundred or better.