We both hop back out of the truck. The fog was thick like always slowly turning grey. Grey fog only means one thing thunderstorms. And in what I presume to be December it's going to be a blizzard. Things haven't been the same. Some for obvious reasons, but the weather is something that has really gotten weird. Blizzards in south Texas, dust storms in the Rocky Mountains, all the way up to hurricanes in New England. Nobody knows, but it is almost as if the world shifted. “So what now?” I asked Her looking up at the grey fog pushing in from the south.The sound of thunder echoing from a far. “We Grab The CB, find a 4x4 car of some sort and a house with a garage. Hide there till this storm passes,” she says slowly, walking down the road. “How far is the next town?” I yelled out while grabbing the radio. “Look for your self Cowboy,” She says standing next to a green rusting sign that says “Welcome to Skidmore”. “I may or may not know that the Baptist church had a food drive still intact and that the father drove a pickup truck.” She says confidently in a funny tone.
Skidmore is like a ghost town out of a western. For the first time, I see the roads breaking apart and letting trees and bushes grow. The town itself is not much it's probably just one big gas stop for most. A lonely Conoco, and a Subway, are all your options. The Conoco’s gas price sign has leaves growing on it, but it still proudly shows the number $8.93, and diesel is at an all-time low of $ .75. On the ground a paper cut out of the number 9 is being pressed by a biker helmet. A motorcycle crashed into the side of the subway with a half-empty 6 pack of beer next to it. Carrie runs over to it pulls out a can and throws it to me. Me being a cowered and not good at catching I dodge it and the can blows up behind me, releasing years of pressure “Really!” She yells out. “I Clint Eastwood only dodge bullets, not beer cans,” I yell out nervously in a posh accent. My heart rate is a bit higher than normal from the interaction for being the apocalypse I'm still too nervous.
At the end of the road lies a brick church with white doors. On the side, there is a sign sating “This was the work of the enemy! We must st1ck t0geth3r! Corinthians 13:12” I try and unlock the door but it only budges. I pull out a knife from my back pocket and start to shimmy the door open. It clicks and opens to a world fog-free, and filled to the brim with dust, cobwebs, and the holy ghost of the past world. I hear a window shatter. I look back but Carrie is nowhere to be seen. I run and hide behind a pew, pulling out my knife. The sounds of clunking steel-toe boots and crunching glass echo throughout. The sound appears to be coming from the bathroom but I can't confirm. The steps get closer and closer till there's a slip. Somebody fell and from outside you can hear a muffled “Son of a b… oh right, church.”
I open the door to see Carrie lying on the ground trying to get up. The stall door in the back was open and full of glass shards. “You thought this was smarter?” I ask her offering a hand. She grabs my hand pulling herself up. “There was a black cat, he brought me here and the window was already broken so I went in.” I make sure she is alright and then walk out. She grabs the first aid kit mounted on the wall and kicks it close. “So what did you slip on glass?” “Nope, that stupid cat scared me” I keep thinking about that cat, but I haven't even seen a cat since mid-2013. And I never saw the poor guy after that. “Anyway let's find that food and the truck. Get out of here and connect the radio,” she says.
Carrie is limping with each step, and although I offer to help or ask if she is okay, she will shut me down instantly. I ask her one more time if she is alright but she snaps. “Listen, cowboy! I don't trust many people but I trusted you because of pity. Now I do not want you to get too attached to me or me to get too attached to you, because in this world people die. That's the messed up thing, and I don't want you to suffer. In the beginning, I lost someone and I don't feel like losing someone else again, and so far that hasn't happened.” She sits down on the first row of pews, and by now I can see the problem.
She has a shard of glass in her left ankle. “Theres a pharmacy down the road I could possibly find anything that could help”. She once again loses her cool and says “Don't push it cowboy! I'll be fine, I just need a minute… Besides all the pharmacies were raided in the beginning.” I'm pacing back and forth now looking for any option till I remember. “Wheres the truck?” I ask She signals to the back door and hands me a flat-head screwdriver. “It's an old truck the flathead should work.” I run out to find a 1979 Ford F-100 parked in the back. Fading black paint and unlocked. I put in the screwdriver, and it turns but doesn't turn over. I guess nobody would be shocked to think that the battery is dead.
Without much thought or plan, I put it into neutral and start pushing the truck. All my body's force keeps pushing it till I hop back in, shift it into second gear, and pop the clutch. It starts! I drive it out to the liquor store with the hope of finding anything to disinfect the wound and possibly if it's strong enough to use it as gas. It's within a minute of the church and just a street down from the elementary school. But there it stands. I run in quickly, grabbing whatever has the strongest alcohol count, and run back out.
I hopped in the truck again, but the flat head had slipped out, shutting off the truck. I crank it again but it only clicks. The starter was gone. I hop out once again, a strong gust of wind almost pushing me to the ground. I push the truck one more time run back in and pop the clutch. Nothing happened. By now the snow was falling and I could hear a car pulling up. A loud engine roaring slowly getting closer and louder. I quickly slide under the truck and try my best to hide. The car gets close enough to the point that I can see it. It slows down and stops in the middle of the road. 3 people step and and start talking between themselves. The first guy talked shyly. “Do you think they stopped here?” The second guy yelled out in a thick Hispanic accent. “Damn it Mitch I don't know! All I know is that they went that way.” The third guy had a regular voice and said “Well we need to find them! That trucker killed Deputy.” the first guy talks back “Miguel, think of it this way, since Deputy is gone, maybe we could run Starr County? Isn't this what you wanted?” The second guy thinks and talks again “Yes, but I want these two dead!” “Listen man It's getting cold If we don't get back by sundown they will close the gate on us. We can try again tomorrow. Hell, they could probably be in Corpus Christi by now!”
They all hop back in the car and drive off back west. When the coast is clear I hop out from under and push the truck. It starts up and I floor it back to the church. When I get back Carrie is sitting on the floor, on the first row of pews. “You alright?” I ask halfway down the hall. She grabs a cat and holds him up as if he was Simba from The Lion King. She then yells out “HE’S REAL” The cat is a small calico, can't be more than a year old. He’s got black and white for the most part of his body, with orange spots all around. For now, I don't care about the cat, but her leg. Still bleeding and with the glass. I won't give much detail but it was painful to the point that she started drinking the alcohol. I stitched it up with the first aid, put a bandage on it, and done. A drunken Carrie asked me “Who taught you to stitch and all that first aid stuff?” “My dad. He always thought the world was going to end so he would personally take his time each summer to put us through survival courses. From the age of 8 till I was 15. I never liked him but he saw something no one else saw. Of course, when things started he didn't want us in his shelter.”
For the first time in possibly 3 years I remembered my father, sure he wasn't a good man but maybe he was just scared. I hate what he did, but I feel like I can forgive him for everything he taught me. I stand up from the floor and walk to the back door, I grab a few candles and a box of matches. At this point it is dark, and all the windows are covered with blankets, so any light that would possibly enter can't. I light a few candles and place them around. Just enough light to not be blind. The little cat had started following me wherever I went. I decided to grab a can of tuna from the food drive and give it to him. Maybe he was just hungry. I don't mind having a cat around, but it's new for me. Carrie was passed out by now, and the night was in full swing, and the snow is already up to some 3 inches. I pull out some thin blankets from the brackets from the back and cover Carrie.
I find a frying pan out back and put a few candles under it. It isn't the best option but in this world, this is how you cook a meal. I open a can of spam and start to fry it slowly. It will take possibly an hour for it to cook, but It will be worth it. The cat sits next to me as I cook. Looking at the spam. I cut an uncooked chunk. He goes running after it and is back within seconds. “You sir need a name” I whisper looking down at him. He once again starts looking at me, as if he wants more. “Don't you look at me you fool. You will be one fat cat if I keep giving you this.” I throw him one more chunk but no more.
By now the medium rare spam has cooked and the snow is up to the windows. One doesn't really expect this in Texas. Looking through the food drive I find hidden in the corner a new pair of boots. About my size but they don't fit with the whole cowboy theme. Nonetheless, I take them, noting that the entire time I've had one boot on, and exposed my sock to the world. I finish the spam, block all the doors, light out the candles, and get myself comfortable on the Pews. It will be a cold night but one under a roof.
I woke up almost choking, The cat thought it was a good idea to sleep right on my neck. By now the sun was starting to go up. It was maybe 6 AM Carrie was snoring loudly, so loud in fact that It echoed through the church. The cat keeps looking up at me like he wanted something, by now calling him “the cat” was getting too annoying no matter how cyberpunk or dystopian it sounds. I kneel down and look at the guy. “What to name you” I muttered, until I decided. “Your name is Douglas… Douglas Croft” He didn't care much for his name just for the fact that he wanted my cowboy hat. Jumping up on my head, and lying next to it. I take off my hat and he just sits in it, curled up like a ball.
I light a candle and walk into the bathroom, looking to see how much snow has fallen in from the broken window. A couple of feet have piled up on that stall. I grabbed some snow and poured it into the sink. Making sure to close the drain I left a candle under the sink next to the pipe heating it up. By a few minutes, the snow had melted to an ice-cold water. I look in the mirror, seeing the bags under my eyes, multiple scars, and dirt. I wash off my face, as well as I can. I look back in the mirror. I look better, but nobody would believe I'm only 18 I look like I've lived 10 lives with the same body. Every injury scar, burn, and days of sleep missed.
I walked out with the candle in my hand, going back to the front row. Doug was still sitting in my hat half his head poking out one orange ear flopped, the other one standing, and both paws off the side of the hat. Sitting there I think for a minute, Carrie's injury isn't going to cure overnight therefore we are going to run out of supplies rather fast. I think of where one might get supplies I look throughout the church but nothing. Even entered the unfinished basement but all I found was the rest of the food pantry.
I walked up to the main hall where I found Carrie waking up, “What the hell happened last night?” she asked grabbing her head. “You, my friend are dealing with a hangover,” I say grabbing a bottle of water and handing it to her. I sit next to her and ask how her leg is. She pauses and tries to stand up, but she’s too weak. “I need you to get in that truck and connect the CB, radio. Use the callsign raven on channel 27. If you need to change the channel switch to the interstate number on the city that they tell you. Call them for a 10-83 pickup in Skidmore. Give them all the info you can”
I'm hesitant but I will go along with it. I grab the radio and the flathead. When I open the door, everything is white, the visibility is maybe 300 feet, and 2 feet of snow. I force my way in the wind and make it to the truck. I hop in and connect the radio to the cigarette lighter, but the battery is dead. Doesn't crank, no power, nothing. I shift it into neutral, remove the hand brake, open the door, and slam it allowing a good amount of snow to fall off. I push the car forward, slowly in all the snow. It moves, I hop in and pop the clutch, starting up. I pull the hand brake and keep it in neutral as I try to find any radio signal. Calling every five minutes but nothing, half a million channels and nothing.
The truck’s heating had finally kicked in. The engine heat was now starting to melt the snow around. I tried for the wipers, and they cleared off the last of the snow on the windshield, screeching with every pass. I locked in the 4x4 and drove it out into the center of town. I kept calling every few minutes, but nothing. It's all dead air. I am on my own like I always have been.
I drive into the school's parking lot thinking I might as well make the most of my time. I take the screwdriver with me and hop out of the truck. The front doors are locked and so are all the doors, but a conveniently parked Chevy Blazer helps me climb to the roof. From here I unlock the roof entrance and enter.
It's dark inside, but enough light to be able to walk around without a problem. I make my way around the place looking for the nurse's office. If not some sort of first aid. I find the principal office first, and I walk in to see if there is anything. In the corner, there is a locker with a padlock. Simple but could have something inside of it. I grab my trusty knife and force the look open. It's all the school’s contraband - vapes, cigarettes, nicotine gum, a zippo lighter, and old booze, but the most important thing of all is a container full of oxycodone. I grab it along with the lighter booze because it could come in handy later on. Noting that this is an elementary school, I'm very curious to find out if this is from the teachers or students. Maybe kids in the South mature faster?
I walk out and keep looking through the school until I find the nurse. The place is mainly raided no pills, nor medicine just a few bandages. I take what I find and walk out. Make my way around the school and out the snow had stopped by now, and the fog had a good 500ft of clearance. This will only last for a few hours but it is helpful. I hop into the truck and push start it, going back to the church. The day was uneventful after that, mainly nursing Carrie’s wound back and trying to see if there was any improvement. I want to get out of here, I'm worried about Carrie, and when the snow clears the people up from Beeville are probably going to start searching through this area. We are sitting ducks and I don't like that.