The Onyx Seed - A Story of Survival by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 10

Marty woke that afternoon only to discover that the power was out. He knew that, from now on, they would face a blackened nightly landscape. Lit only by the flickering celestial sparks hanging quietly in the cold, nocturnal sky. Unless he could think of how to cope with the lack of electricity, the consequences would be devastating. Except for third world countries, everything worked because of electricity. Sewage treatment, pumping stations, the phone system. Everything that went into running a developed nation operated primarily because of electrical power.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

The feeling of panic lasted only a few moments. It was not a feeling he could afford to get caught up in. He wondered how Lucas would react. Within the last twelve hours, or so, Lucas had seen things no one should see outside of a combat zone. He walked quietly to the room where Lucas was sleeping and cracked the door open. He was still curled up on the floor, almost exactly where he’d fallen asleep the night before. Walking back down to the kitchen, Marty’s head was filled with a million thoughts. He never consciously anticipated that the power would fail. He was too focused on getting back to the hospital. And, although they had put together a list of items and information, Marty wondered if he had accounted for everything. There would probably be things they’d need along the way. So far, the goal was to go to Whittier, then travel east and north, hopefully someplace near the Adirondacks. But the plan lacked detail, even though it accounted for the apparent collapse of technology. What was needed was a refined survival plan that would encompass not only what their needs would be, but a response to any scenario imaginable. If x happened, y would be carried out. It all started to seem a bit military, yet a well-ordered approach was exactly what was needed.

Marty turned an ear toward the hallway as he heard Lucas stirring into wakefulness. Lucas walked out carrying the battery-operated light that had illuminated the room where he’d poured out his soul to Marty. He aimed the light around at the cupboards while searching for a clean mug.

“Coffees going to be a problem,” Marty said. Lucas turned around looking rather stunned. “What?” he asked. “No coffee!?” Realistically, coffee wasn’t exactly a priority. But, in the mind of a dedicated coffee drinker, civilization had truly come to an end.

“Sorry, Luke,” Marty began. “Powers out.” Lucas let out a deep sigh of disappointment. “No coffee,” he replied. “Could this get any fucking worse? First, a bioterrorist attack. Now, no coffee. I guess we’re really fucked now, aren’t we!?” Marty didn’t know if he was joking or not, but found his reaction humorous, in spite of the gravity of their circumstances. He tried not to laugh as Lucas, in frustration, brought his hands up and began rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Luke,” Marty said. “I got it covered.”

He got up from the kitchen table and disappeared into his room. Spending as much time as he did in the mountains, Marty had acquired a collection of camping and survival gear. He returned with a small camping stove that connected to a butane canister. He had two of them. They were small and light. The only downside was that they would have to be used near an open window in order to avoid filling the room with butane fumes. Marty also understood the need for coffee and was prepared with a percolating coffee pot. The bottom was black from use and displayed the scratches of repeated contact with rock-lined campfire pits. Now, it was just a matter of water. The city’s pumping stations were down due to the power failure. But Marty hoped there would be enough pressure in the pipes to give them at least one or two quarts. After that, their priority would be to obtain as much bottled water as they could carry. He turned the faucet for the cold water and was not surprised. Still disappointed at the hollow sound of pressurized air rushing through the pipes, he let a tired sigh. “Fuck,” he said with a slight tone of hopelessness. “We’re going to need to get some water.” Marty made it their first priority. And they would spend the night going from store to store, collecting bottled water. It wasn’t just a matter of coffee. Although it did serve to prompt them to begin their search, Marty realized that they needed water for everything. Cooking, drinking, bathing as well as maintaining emergency rations.

They decided that light proofing the apartment was no longer necessary. Given what they’d seen, Marty and Lucas agreed to leave L.A. sooner rather than later. They would simply get what they needed and go. But, in order to avoid the military, they would have to leave on foot.

“When we get to Whittier, what then?” Lucas asked. Marty chose Whittier for a few reasons. It was a small suburb of L.A. and the chances of encountering the military were low. It would also give them some time to regroup, as it was out of the way and the population was small.

“When we get there, well take a break for a day or two,” Marty said. “We’re going to have to pick up some maps, so we can work our way east. But I thought it would be good to go someplace where we wouldn’t get killed or stopped by the military.” Lucas nodded in agreement.

“Well, that’s good,” he began. “But, we're going to have to cross the desert when we leave Whittier, and we probably shouldn’t do that on foot.” Marty had already taken this into account and had no plans to walk across the desert.

“I know,” Marty replied. “But, if Whittier looks at all like L.A., then we shouldn’t have a problem getting a car, right?”

Lucas grew noticeably quiet.

“Do you think there’s anyone left in Whittier?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Marty answered. “But I’m guessing that things are the same everywhere and if not, they will be soon.”

There was one other thing Lucas was concerned about.

“What if we run into other people?” he asked. “You know, survivors?”

Marty already had an idea of how he wanted to handle that possibility.

“Well,” he began. “I’d like to be able to avoid other people if we can.”

Marty did not give him a complete answer. Yes, he would try to avoid contact with others as much as possible, but if there was a threat, there would be only one way of dealing with it.

As the evening sun touched the Pacific horizon, Marty and Lucas again walked out into the empty night of Los Angeles. The air had become still and cool as the sky sparkled with stars in the untold millions. The streets and buildings emanated a warming glow, captured from the heat of the day. That night, Marty and Lucas had only one destination in mind. Near the intersection of routes 10 and 110, there was a large outdoor supply outlet. They specialized in everything from camping, rafting, and cycling to climbing, cold weather gear, and hunting. Under normal

circumstances, it would take them roughly an hour and a half to walk there. Now, in the world as it had become, everything was an unknown, and the night brought an added anticipation. The fear of what, or who might be just around the corner. Being someone who spent a great deal of time in the outdoors, Marty had made many visits to this store. With Lucas following close behind, Marty quickly gained his bearings as they made their way toward route 110. The buildings and alleys made for good cover, but they could also harbor other survivors and with L.A.’s previous reputation, the chances of running into a caring soul were slim at best. Having stayed close to the buildings and cutting through alleys and parking lots, Marty and Lucas stopped just short of the highway. Looking down from the top of the on-ramp, the city took on the appearance of a dark, empty maze. With this thought, it suddenly occurred to Marty that they had seen no animals. Even at night, there would always be a few stray cats or a dog barking somewhere within earshot. And it was never unusual to see one or two rats crawling down the side of the street. What was unusual was that there was no sign of any animals anywhere. At least, those with four legs. But Marty had to maintain their priorities. Supplies first, wildlife later.

Marty looked back several times, being certain that Lucas was still behind him. He found it strange that Lucas had remained so quiet for so long. “You okay?” Marty whispered. “You’re kind of quiet.”

“Isn’t that the idea?” Lucas answered quietly. Marty nodded with a slight grin, believing that Lucas may finally be coming to grips with their new circumstances. Stepping out onto the highway brought a sense of relief as they rose above L.A.’s urban jungle. Yet, being out in the open on a four-lane highway meant being exposed, should they encounter the military. Marty was surprised when he found the highway free of any abandoned cars. He assumed that with as quickly as the infection killed, there would be, at least, a few cars along the side of the road. Their drivers slumped over the wheel or thrown out as the result of accidents while people died with their foot still on the gas pedal. He felt a tap on his shoulder as Lucas asked to stop for a few moments.

“This fucking creeps me out,” he whispered. “Tell me about it,” Marty replied. “But we’ve got to keep moving.”

They both found the dark emptiness of the highway more than a little unnerving and caught themselves glancing back on more than one occasion.

Without the usual pattern of street lights, the surrounding buildings appeared to have been dramatically rearranged. Marty had driven this highway many times, and it was as familiar to him as a bad habit. All they were looking for was the intersection.

“We need to pick up the pace a little,” he said. “Feel like a little run?”

“Yeah, sure,” Lucas answered. “As long as I can keep up.”

A light run would speed their progress and distract them from the enveloping darkness. They stopped once in a while to catch their breath, occasionally seeing the distant headlights of military patrol vehicles. Finally, they approached the intersection. “Is this it?” Lucas asked.

“Yeah,” Marty answered.

“Thank fucking God,” Lucas said, as he walked breathless toward the highway crossing. Marty quickly pulled him back to the side of the road. “Wait,” he said. “Do you hear that?”

The sound was almost too faint to be heard, however, Marty’s well-trained senses picked up the distant beating of rotors.

“Shit!” he said. “Come on, we got to find some cover.”

They ran down the embankment as the side of the highway and into a drainage culvert. It was big enough that both of them could sit across from each other. The beating blades of a patrolling helicopter grew steadily louder as it searched the highway and surrounding streets. Its searchlights pierced the moonless night with the brilliance of a midday sun.

The sound of its blades slashing against the night fell away as the helicopter flew over their heads. Lucas started crawling out of the culvert. “Not yet,” Marty whispered. “We’ve got to make sure they’re gone.”

Lucas crept back into the culvert where they sat listening as the sound faded, replaced by the night’s overpowering silence. After a few minutes, Marty had become convinced that for the rest of the night, they would not be visited again but Lucas was beginning to feel as though they were being pursued. “Marty,” he said. “I’m starting to feel like they know where we are.”

Marty was becoming concerned.

“Lucas,” he began. “They’re patrolling the entire city, but they can’t be everywhere. All we need to do is keep our heads together and stick with the plan, okay?”

Lucas nodded as Marty motioned him out of the culvert.

“They’re not going to be able to spot us once we’re in the store.”

They crossed the intersection and cautiously headed across the parking lot. Every car they passed was empty, except for one. The driver’s body sat slouched over to the left. Its face tipped up against the window. Lucas had never seen death and as he curiously looked through the window, he was startled by what he saw. An enclosed car, sitting in the L.A. heat would certainly speed the process of decomposition and the driver’s skin was covered with the typical round lesions of smallpox. But, in the warm humidity of the car, it was also beginning to split and sough away from the underlying tissue. Lucas had never seen anything like this before and his mind began playing tricks on him.

“Shit!” he yelled.

Marty’s reaction was immediate as he darted back to the car. Lucas stood, frozen in terror. “Luke,” Marty said with a tone of urgency. “Luke, you’ve got to keep your voice down.” Lucas flew into a panic.

“Did you fucking see that!? It blinked its eyes! It fucking looked right at me!”

Marty grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around, away from the car.

“Luke,” Marty began.

He looked at Lucas as intensely as the urgency in his voice.

“Luke, whoever they were, I guarantee you they’re dead.”

Lucas tried to shake off the sight of the nearly unrecognizable corpse. And although it still looked human, it would only be a matter of time before its familiar appearance would fade into a heavy, glistening layer of soupy fluid.

“Luke,” Marty continued. “We’re going to see this a lot, alright? So, I’m not going to tell you to get used to it. But you’ve got to keep your head together, got it?”

Marty gave him a quick slap against the side of his arm. Lucas reacted by blinking his eyes several times and taking a deep breath, as his psyche reengaged itself.

“You okay?” Marty asked.

Lucas swallowed hard, trying not to look back at the car. Everyone has a morbid curiosity about death. It is an eventuality that lies beyond examination and therefore understanding. Death makes us mortal, but it is our curiosity of it that makes us human as we try to touch that which we cannot know. Lucas had inadvertently stumbled into arm's reach of something he had never experienced and it terrified him. “Marty,” he began. “I’ve never seen anything like that before. Not in real life anyway.” Marty nodded calmly.

“When you were in Iraq,” he continued. “How did you handle having to see this kind of thing every day? How did you get used to it?”

“I didn’t,” Marty answered. “You just learned how to deal with it. You had to learn not to see them as being people. They were just dead things.” Lucas was both fascinated and horrified by the idea that the dead could be dehumanized for the sake of doing a job. That someone could bring themselves to a place where they would be unmoved by the sight of tattered human flesh. But, that was war and wars were fought in faraway places, so those who hid beneath the cloak of civilized society would never have to bear witness to the messes they make. Lucas was quickly learning that war could be fought anywhere and that sometimes there was no clearly defined enemy. This was especially true if one was fighting for their survival against the unseen enemy of one’s circumstances. Marty understood that Lucas was still having trouble adjusting to the abrupt shift of their reality. He was also aware that Lucas may never make the adjustment, that he might never accept the world as it had become. Perhaps life would get a little easier once they left L.A., leaving the multitudes of dead behind them.

“Luke,” he said. “We’ve got things to do.”

Our minds expect to see certain things in people. We expect them to blink, to breathe, to react. In the absence of these things, our minds can play tricks on us. Leading us to see what does not exist, filling in the blanks for the sake of a complete world. But the mind can be too efficient. Sometimes with terrifying results. Lucas would have to harden himself to the reality of death in order to escape the mental trickery of false perception. Marty took Lucas by the arm and forcibly walked him away from the car. “Luke,” he began. “I really need you to stay with me. This is only the beginning and things aren’t going to get any easier. At least, not for a while, anyway.”

“I get it,” Lucas replied. “But, could you stop pulling me?”

Marty paused in front of the store’s glass doors. “Sorry about that,” he said, dropping his hand. “I just need you to keep your head on straight, okay?” Lucas nodded with a slightly frozen expression that told Marty he was still a bit spooked by what he’d seen.

Before trying the door, Marty cupped his hands against the glass and peered inside. “Look at this,” he said.

Lucas stepped up and gazed into the building. “What am I looking for?” he asked. “Don’t you see it?” Marty asked. He continued to examine the store’s interior. “No one’s touched anything. There’s been no looting.”

Marty to the corner of the building and raised his binoculars. About five hundred yards away was a strip mall. Marty examined the storefronts with his binoculars and noticed immediately that all their windows were intact. He lowered them with a puzzled look.

“Nothing’s been touched,” he said. Lucas walked up behind him.

“What is it?” he asked.

Marty handed him the binoculars and pointed toward the strip mall.

“See what I mean?” he asked. “No broken windows. No one’s been here. Lucas continued staring through the binoculars.”

“This is weird,” he said. “That’s usually the first thing people do in a crisis.”

It suddenly dawned on Lucas that the infection had killed so quickly that the opportunity for looting never occurred.

“Well,” Marty began. “I guess we won’t have to worry about finding supplies.”

He glanced back at the doors of the camping store. “Speaking of which, we need to get going.”

Lucas handed the binoculars back to him as they returned to the store’s entrance. Marty tried the door, only to discover that it was locked. “Shit!” he said.

“Couldn’t we just break the glass?” Lucas asked. “It’s a thought,” Marty answered. “But I’d rather not make all that noise.”

Once again, he peered into the store through cupped hands.

“I’d like to find a quieter way in, if I can. Let’s see if there’s a back door.”

They circled around to the rear of the building and finding the back door, discovered that it too, was locked. In spite of Marty’s frustration, his mind quickly went to work on a solution. The front doors were inch-thick tempered glass and would require a great deal of force to break. And the sound of shattering glass could attract the attention of whoever might be nearby.

“There’s got to be a way in,” he said to himself. The front doors were held in place by magnetic locks, while the back door was secured by a locked bolt and there was no window to crawl through. The building seemed impenetrable and might not be accessible without making a great deal of noise. Marty considered the ventilation ducts, but that would take more than they had. He wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible and was running out of options. Then, Marty was struck with the idea that he might be able to break the glass door with a minimum of damage and, therefore, a minimum of noise. If he could break the glass where it met the hinges, it might simply tilt out away from the door frame. They would then catch it before it hit the ground. Maybe. Walking back around to the front, Marty picked up a large rock from a flower arrangement. Lucas lit up with excitement at the idea of committing an act of destruction, especially considering that the victim was a large glass door.

“No fucking way!” he said. “You’re really going to do this?”

Lucas readily volunteered for what was a necessary act of wanton destruction as Marty was quick to explain what he wanted to accomplish. And while Lucas felt a bit disappointed with Marty’s sense of caution, he agreed nonetheless.

They stood in front of the doors as Marty looked for the places where the glass met the hinges. He turned to Lucas while rolling the rock from one hand to the other.

“You might want to stand someplace else,” he said. Lucas followed his advice without hesitation and took several steps to a relatively safe location. Marty held the rock high above his head and sent it crashing into the glass, just above the bottom hinge. The impact left a fist-sized crater in the inch-thick door. He picked the rock and readied himself for another throw. This time, he aimed for the top hinge. Lucas stood well away from the doors with an electrified look of anticipation, glancing around occasionally as if they might be discovered in some felonious act. Marty let the rock fly, striking his intended target with enough force to break off a softball-sized chunk of glass covering the hinge. The rock fell to the ground with a thud as shards of glass followed, making a tinkling sound as they strewed themselves across the concrete walkway. Marty backed away from the doors to a modest distance, as though the door might come crashing down at any second. He found it impossible that the door could still be standing and felt a sense of frustration building. Lucas continued to watch in rapt attention, his anticipation growing exponentially. Like a delinquent schoolboy, he wanted the rush of seeing something as fragile as a glass door topple to the ground, shattering into countless bits.

Marty waited as the door stood silently. Held intact, seemingly out of protest against the sudden assault. He didn’t dare approach it for fear that it would suddenly crumble down upon him. Marty knew that if either of them were to be injured, help would be a long time in coming, if at all.

What now? Lucas asked.

Marty began pacing with frustration and started looking around for anyone whose curiosity may have been piqued by the sound of the impact as it dissipated into the night. With great impatience, he picked up the rock again. Lucas stood with his mouth hanging open in disbelief as Marty walked back to the glass door.

“Holy fuck,” he said, with an almost shocked tone. “What happened to not making any noise?” Marty turned again and surveyed the area as far as his eyes could see. There was no movement. There were no lights or sounds of human activity. Only the warm breeze blowing in from the Pacific. “Fuck that,” Marty answered. “We’re running out of time, and we need to get in there.” He stopped short of where the door would land, should it suddenly give way from its heavy steel hinges. He examined the door, looking for even the slightest weakness, wanting to shatter it with one throw and as he looked closely, something stood out to him. A crack had wandered its way across the door by several inches. There would now be little guesswork as Marty wound back and launched the rock at what appeared to be its only weakness. Lucas stood wide-eyed as it made contact with the crack that had sprawled itself across the door. A broad grin came to his face as the door exploded under the force of Marty’s swing and collapsed to the ground. “Shit!” Lucas exclaimed. “That was fucking awesome!”

Marty quickly turned to him, extending an open hand. Palm down.

“Listen,” he said quietly.

They both stood as nervous sentinels, eyes and ears searching in every direction for any response to the chaos that momentarily split the dark silence of the L.A. night.

They waited, afraid to so much as breath, while time seemed to slow to the pace of melting ice. Having become convinced that their necessary act of vandalism had gone unnoticed, Marty began kicking the doors jagged remains aside as he entered the store, with Lucas following behind. Unsurprisingly, there were no working lights. The emergency lights, mounted near the ceiling, had used up their batteries, leaving the store in complete darkness. They navigated their way by feel and soon located both flashlights and batteries. No longer feeling like rats in a maze, they made their way around the store with ease.

“We don’t want to be here very long,” Marty said. He took one of the lists out of his pocket and unfolding it began considering what they needed for the next one or two weeks. And reading off several items, asked Lucas to retrieve them as quickly as possible. He pulled two large, internal frame expedition packs off the display wall and proceeded to fill them with as many list items as he could find. Fifteen minutes later, he caught up with Lucas, who was admiring the touring bicycles. “Luke,” he said, with a tone of urgency. “We’ve got to go.”

“Wait,” Lucas replied. “Look at this.” He picked up one of the bicycles with only an index finger.

“I’ll bet these are carbon fiber.”

“Yeah, that’s great,” Marty replied. “Come on.” He was in a hurry to leave, but Lucas pointed something out that Marty found embarrassingly obvious.

“You know,” Lucas said. “We have to travel on foot but not with these.”

By the bright beam of his flashlight, Marty could see the bicycle’s thin curves and slender lines. He also realized that, in spite of it being a work of well-engineered art, it was hardly suitable for their needs. He pointed out that they’d be carrying more weight than the frame could tolerate and quickly walked down the row, stopping at the mountain bikes. “You got the right idea,” he said. “But I think this is what you’re looking for.”

He rolled out two mountain bikes, each made of lightweight aircraft aluminum. Their wide, deeply treaded tires were perfect for almost any terrain and would easily bear the weight Marty and Lucas would be carrying.

“Is this more like it?” Marty asked. “Perfect,” Lucas replied.

Marty nodded in agreement with a slight grin. “Get a couple of patching kits and a tire pump,” he said. “We need to get going.”

Lucas quickly retrieved the items but as an afterthought, also grabbed a set of bicycle tools. They carried the bicycles out of the store and over the layer of broken glass spread out over the walkway. Both also carried forty to fifty pounds of camping supplies on their backs. Once clear of the glass, they mounted the bicycles and started off. As they were on their way out of the parking lot, Lucas glanced back, his attention momentarily pulled by the car and its deceased driver. He had an up-close and personal look into the lifeless eyes of death and it looked back at him. He was trying to make the best of an unrecoverable, long-term situation. But the eyes that stared back at him from the cars withered driver was now branded on his brain, and he would never be released from their gaze. The heaviness of this experience, coupled with the fiery scene at the hospital, was beginning to leave its mark. Sometimes, life knows exactly how hard to push.