The China Pandemic (4 page)

He attached the hitch to his bike and then noticed out of the corner of his eye, Bang standing in the doorway with his finger in his mouth. “You can come in, buddy,” he said in a cheerful tone and waved him in with his hand. Graham knew the little guy was not used to him yet and that he would have to build trust with him over time.

“Bang, do you know how to ride a bike?” Graham asked. Like a sparkler, Bang’s face lit up.

“Yes, I can ride. I have a bike at home. My mom takes me lots of times. We even bike to school sometimes,” Bang said, “And—”. His little face fell in an expression that echoed the one Graham had seen in his mirror that morning. A happy memory turned, in a nanosecond, to a devastation, the good thought replaced by the pain of their new reality. At least he knew the boy could speak up.

“Well, that’s great then,” Graham said, sidestepping the strong reel of emotion clear as hell on the little kid’s face. If he did not acknowledge the pain, he hoped it would go away quicker than if they dwelled on it, talking about it.

“Come on then. Let’s see if this will work for you,” he motioned for Bang as he pulled the pink monstrosity out for him. Graham watched as the boy looked at the bike and then up at him with a look that could kill. The kid shut down right before his eyes.

“Look, I know it’s pink, but it’s all we have right now,” Graham said. “If we come across something more suitable for a boy we’ll trade it then.” He leaned the bike in his direction and hoped the kid would take it.

Bang looked at it but did not move.

“Bang, I don’t have time for this. If you ride this bike, as soon as we can, we’ll find you a better one. I promise,” Graham bargained.

Bang simply nodded his head and grabbed the handles.

“You’ll have to ride around in here for now and we’ll see if we need to adjust anything,” he said.

The kid looked eager to show Graham that he could ride.

Bang began skillfully riding the little bike around in circles. Then, when Graham realized the helmet was missing from his head, he remembered the Barbie helmet.
Oh crap, there is no way that kid will go for that,
he thought. He looked at Bang’s head and realized it probably would not fit him anyway because the boy had a big noggin. Discarding the girly helmet idea, Graham reached into the sports cabinet and pulled out his mom’s helmet that thankfully came in olive green.

“Hey, Bang, stop for a minute. Let’s see if this will fit you,” he said. As the little bike skidded to a stop right in front of him, Graham realized the kid really could ride. Not only could he ride, he loved it.

Bang’s mom had mentioned in her note that he loved cars so, of course, the kid also loved bikes. After adjusting the helmet to fit snugly, he let the boy practice a few more times around the garage. He noticed that he even stood on the pedals, leaning sidelong. This boy had some skills. At least that was one thing he did not have to worry about, unless Bang got reckless.

“Okay, let’s adjust the seat a little higher and that will do,” he told him. Having done that, he went on. “Next, we need to start loading. We only have a little space, but we’re going to load up as much as we can with food, sleeping bags, ammo and the first aid kit.”

Getting busy, he and Bang worked side by side collecting and stuffing as many essentials as they could into the far too small trailer tote. They used bungee cords to attach the sleeping bags over the top. Graham knew he should take several other things, but there just was not room.

He grabbed his dad’s pocketknife, putting it into his jean pocket. Then noticing another one, he went against what he’d always thought with guns and made a new rule for himself as his father said he would need to do.

The boy would grow up differently in this world and he needed to be prepared. He needed to be the one to teach him and that meant making new rules for this new world. He picked up the smaller pocketknife and bent down to Bang’s level. “Keep this in your pocket, buddy. It is for work, not play, do you understand?”

The boy met his gaze with a serious face and nodded his understanding. He put the little knife deep into his own jean pocket. Graham hoped he could entrust him with such a thing. Knowing full well, the boy struck with a fit of boredom, would do just as he had done at some point. He would run his thumb along the blade causing a red line to appear. Later, his dad had told him he’d done the same thing at his age. So now, by circumstance Graham had been forced to pass down the tradition to this boy.

Knowing he had just evoked yet another memory, he growled under his breath and retreated into the house. He went to collect a few pieces of silverware and bar soap as well as the first aid kit and the plastic shower curtain to use as a barrier against the constant drizzle. Most importantly, he went into his father’s closet, with Bang close behind him. He opened up the gun safe and collected two of his dad’s Garand rifles along with his Ruger handgun. He put the rifles into cases and donned his father’s holster at his side for the handgun. He felt awkward wearing it, but as with his own rifle, he’d soon get used to it.

After nightfall, they would head out. They went back to the kitchen counter for the map that he and his dad had plotted the best route out of town to the family cabin up north. His great-grandfather had passed it down and now it belonged to him alone.

It was first employed as a trapping lodge in the twenties. Then, over the years, it came to serve as a winter hunting lodge and summer retreat for them all. They spent several weeks there each summer and in the winter, they hunted. Each visit meant making improvements.

His grandfather had built on the bunkroom and the attached bathroom with indoor plumbing, running water and electricity. Just recently, they’d installed a new woodstove his dad found on Craigslist. Hauling the heavy cast-iron thing had made them grunt and groan for days to come, but both felt it had been worth the effort.

The structure, built well in the beginning, had many repairs and upgrades over the years. On one visit, as a teenager, he’d helped rechink the grout and replace rotted boards. On another visit, he and Dad replaced cedar roof shingles. He suspected his dad arranged this to keep him out of trouble during the summer months.

He just could not escape the memories.

Having their gear all packed, including their personal backpacks, Graham plotted his and Bang’s possible route through town. Though he’d play it by ear, not committing them to any particular course, he’d adjust for the permanently stalled traffic jams and safety. Typically, they’d take the highway up near Seattle and then shoot up northeast. That was not possible now, so they’d take the back roads up and snake their way through.

Until they bypassed the bad guy, Graham knew they might have to rough it outside until they could secure a car on the other side. With animals out on the prowl, he knew it would be better to find shelter, but he just did not know where, exactly. Since he had not ventured out lately, he really did not know what conditions he would find. Relying on memory, and not knowing how long it would take them by bike, Graham again checked the map.

Even if it was not for Campos, driving his own truck out of there was not an option. The highways and overpasses were cluttered with parked cars, not to mention the animals getting more and more brazen. From there, he planned to take a wait-and-see approach. If he could predict where the bad guy hung out, then maybe he and the kid could slink through unnoticed.

Unfortunately, there was no other way to cross the overpass, either by road or geographically on foot. They could not even hike down over the cliff of rocks lining the highway. They would just have to go as quietly as possible through the overpass and cross by the gas station.

He hoped to get past without drawing the guy’s attention. This Campos character apparently stopped folks coming into town, not folks trying to get out. If he had to confront him, he would just reason with him or offer him food to pass through peacefully. Just in case, Graham would be armed and he would have Bang ride on his left, providing a little cover for the kid in case things got hairy.

To get to the cabin on the outskirts of Cascade, along the Skagit River, they’d go hopefully by ‘borrowed’ truck, up the road through Fall City and Carnation. Then, they’d go finally up to Monroe but he doubted he could drive freely on Highway Two, so he opted for the less traveled back roads that would take them around the lake and then north to Granite Falls. From there, they’d take another back road through Darrington and then finally north to Cascade.

Hopefully, all these small towns were finally deserted now. If they ran into any trouble, they could always change their route. The last thing he wanted to do was end up hiking with a five-year-old, making it an epic trek through the wilderness.

Now that he had his plan mapped out, he also thought it might be wise to grab his dad’s binoculars so that he could scout ahead.

Graham heard a grumbling noise coming from the little guy who was shadowing his every move today, which signaled lunchtime. Again, Graham resorted to the last of the leftover beans, forgoing the rice this time. With just enough for the two of them, he rewarmed it. After finishing, he washed their bowls and spoons, and put them back up into the cupboard.

“Okay, Bang,” he said. “It’s time we tidy up this place so when we come back here someday, it won’t be a mess. We’re going to ride our bikes out of here tonight and I don’t know when we’ll get a chance to sleep. So, if you need to take a nap before we go, this is the time. What do you think?” he asked the boy.

Bang hastily shook his head, and with an offended glare, answered, “I don’t take naps.”

Note to self: Bang does not do naps.
At least, he was learning more about the boy.

Looking Bang over, he decided he needed more cold weather gear. Nightfall often brought cooler temperatures. Bike riding through the night would be quite cold indeed until they could procure a decent vehicle to drive. He checked out the hall closet for extra gloves and jackets. He found pink gloves and mittens but did not even try to pawn them off on the boy. Instead, he opted for one of his own extra black knit hats and his mom’s black knit gloves that stretched to fit all sizes.

As he rifled through the closet, he kept thinking about the upcoming confrontation with the Campos guy. Graham thought it might be wise to stash the boy and their bikes nearby while he confronted him on foot. He would wait to decide until he could get a visual of the situation. If it were true that he had already killed two people as Hyun-Ok witnessed, there were likely more. “How crazy could this guy be?” he muttered. In a few hours, the answer would be clear.

He looked through his mother’s hall of portraits, about which he often chided her. He looked for one with a decent likeness of them all and small enough to carry around in his wallet. He rarely carried his wallet with him now, but in the impossible event the world did indeed come back, he wanted his identification and his family picture with him. Or, if he admitted it to himself, he just really felt like taking them along with him on this journey.

Never in a million years did he think he would trek through the woods by bike and an unknown truck to the family cabin, past bad guys and wild animals, with an Asian kid named Bang, at the end of mankind. How life had changed in the course of just a few weeks and now months. He had no idea what would become of them next year at this time. Staying alive was the plan right now.

The night started to descend, so Graham made the last of the rice for dinner with his mom’s southern gravy recipe. He heated and then whisked together a little melted venison fat with the remaining flour and canned milk. He diluted it with water and sprinkled it liberally with salt and pepper. His dad would have been proud of the dinner. Graham offered a bowl to Bang and he wolfed it down in quick order.

After dinner, Bang and Graham walked out to his mother’s garden. They gathered a few of his mom’s remaining prized but faded roses and took them over to the six unmarked graves. He let Bang pick which one he wanted to place on his mother’s. They stood there without saying anything. It was a solemn moment in the sunset haze, with no words needed between them.

Graham believed Bang was what he’d heard others say—a child possessed with an old soul. His silent actions today as they prepared their escape bore witness to this characteristic. He knew they’d get along well once Bang stopped resenting him.

After their impromptu memorial, Graham went around the inside of the house, making sure all the windows were locked, turned off the water heater, and then after taking one last ceremonial potty, he shut off the incoming main water valve. After he was satisfied that he had completed his checklist of the house, he securely locked the front door from the inside. It was all as if they were just going on vacation.

They donned their backpacks and headed to the garage. Along the way, he turned off the few lights. Grabbing his rifle, he slung it over his back to have it at the ready. He reached over to Bang, secured his helmet and retied his shoes while down at his level. Bang put on his gloves, and to Graham’s surprise, he produced his bow and arrow with a strap that secured over his head and around his back. It was a simply carved device. The little bow looked perfect for his size, but Graham doubted it would be good for defense. Nevertheless, if it made him feel more secure to wear the contraption, he did not have a problem with it.

After checking for any dangers, be it man or beast, Graham popped the garage door latch manually, making as little noise as possible. They pulled their gear out in the darkened driveway, securing the door behind them. He and Bang headed out, riding side by side with Graham pulling the little supply trailer with the rifle case sticking out awkwardly. With the unknown before them, they did not even think to look back.