Chad Grable Wichita, KS October 5th, 1991
I made up my mind that I would go today before it gets dark. It took awhile to convince myself but I finally found the courage. I went out to the garage and set up the step ladder in the center of the floor. Above the ladder was the opening to the storage in the rafters. I climbed up to the cubby hole in the ceiling and pushed open the plywood that covered the entrance. Dust bunnies and mouse droppings fell down in my hair and on my shoulders. I did the nervous gross me out dance and shook my head and arms to get the filthy things off of me.
I climbed another rung and stuck my head up into the hole. The attic was dusty and full of cobwebs and it made me want to sneeze constantly. I felt around for the pistol I had hidden up there when we got back from camping last year.
Just about every summer my cousins and I went camping with our dads at Tuttle Creek State Park. It was our job to gather firewood for the evening fires. One day while my cousins and I were getting more firewood, we crossed a field to get to another wooded area. While we walked I noticed something metallic on the ground a few feet up ahead of me. My cousins were jacking around trying to knock each other over. They didn’t notice as I crouched down and picked up the gun. I turned it over in my hands and was surprised at how much it weighed. I could tell by the stamp on the side that it was a Smith & Wesson model 60. It had five chambers and each had a bullet inside. I quickly shoved the gun into my deep shorts pocket and kept walking. My cousins didn’t see me and I never told them what I had found. They were cool enough but I know they would have squealed on me to my dad.
After I got the gun I went back into the house and put on my Chiefs jacket. It was pretty chilly for this time of year. Before I went outside, I peeked out the front windows. I could see no movement. I felt myself starting to lose my nerve so I hurried up and went out on the porch. I quietly closed the screen door behind me and walked to the steps that led down to the front walk. The old boards creaked under my feet and I could hear the wind slapping an open gate back and forth from somewhere up the street. I looked up and down my block and other than some blowing papers the street was deserted.
I started walking down to the grocery store across the street from where I (used to) work. It was creepy being outside after two days of staying in the house. The wind was cold on my face and it was hard to hear anything through the gusts. I felt like I was being watched but I knew it was just me being jittery.
As I neared the shopping center, I noticed there were a lot of cars in the parking lot. People must have been stopping at the store after work. It looked like some weird scene out of a movie but there was no way for me to get up and leave half way through. Some people were sitting in their cars just staring straight ahead. Others were lying on the concrete of the parking lot. Still others looked as if they knew what was happening. Their faces distorted with pain and fear. I tried not to look but they scared the shit out of me. I had to make sure I always knew where they were. I know it sounds crazy but I couldn’t help myself. My neck was starting to hurt from looking behind me so many times.
I walked up to the front doors of the grocery store and could see my reflection in the tinted windows. The wind blew my light brown, messy and matted hair around and my face looked horribly pale. I quickly walked closer to the window to avoid looking at myself and tried to look inside. It was pretty sunny out still so I had to cup my hands around my face to be able to see anything. The tint on the windows made it appear that everything inside was floating in a giant bottle of whiskey. I could see a few lifeless bodies and some shopping carts that had sunk to the bottom but nothing moved.
When I was sure it was safe, I walked over to the electric sliding doors and tried to pry them open with my hands. They were stuck shut. I needed something to wedge them open with. I turned and scanned the parking lot. In the row nearest to me sat a green nineteen eighty eight Taurus. I walked over and reached in to get the keys, trying as hard as possible to hold my breath and look away from the lady who sat in the front seat. Her body was bloated from sitting out in the sun and her skin was an awful shade of cloud gray. The white shirt she wore was splattered with tiny blood stains and a thin line of blood ran from her nose. I could smell urine and rotting flesh and did my best not to breathe. After retrieving the keys, I went around to the trunk and opened it. Inside was the spare tire, some windshield wiper fluid, a blanket, two folding lawn chairs and some motor oil. I lifted up the spare tire and found the tire iron I was looking for.
I went back to the doors and shoved the tire iron in between them and pulled. The doors opened a few inches which was enough to get my hands in between them. I dropped the crow bar and pulled the doors apart with my hands. Once they were open far enough, I reached inside and grabbed a shopping cart while holding the doors open with my free arm and my foot. I wedged the shopping cart in between the doors as a temporary door stop.
The electricity had been out for days and the horrible odor hit me immediately. It smelled like rotten eggs and meat gone bad. It was very dark inside but luckily the grocery store had installed skylights. This allowed just enough light inside to see on even a cloudy day.
I walked past the checkout counters and noticed that many of them were still full of items no one would ever pay for. I walked up to the express lane and grabbed a pack of Mountain Cherry Blast Bubble Yum off the conveyor belt. While I opened the wrapper I noticed a tiny pink sneaker peeking out at me from around the corner of the counter. I leaned around to get a better view and realized the sneaker had a foot in it. My mind said not to look but I couldn’t help it. It’s just like a train wreck. You don’t want to look but something in our foolish human nature doesn’t allow us to leave it alone. We have to look. We NEED to look. Our minds will not let us forget if we ever did just walk away. I am no different. I looked.
I slowly adjusted my view around the corner until an entire leg was visible. The body wore white socks with rainbows on the ankles and new looking blue jeans. The belt was bright and multi-colored with a unicorn on the buckle. Pee Wee Herman stared back at me from the white t-shirt the child wore. “I know you are but what am I?” inquired Pee Wee. I leaned a little farther until I could see the face.
It was a little girl. She couldn’t have been more than five or six years old. Her long blond hair was tied back in two pig tails with yellow hair bands. She was lying next to a woman I assumed was her mother. I choked back a whimper and dropped the gum. She reminded me of my little sister when we were children.
I ran outside and collapsed on the sidewalk that ran along the front of the store. I could not hold it in any more. I bawled like a baby. I missed my family and had somehow repressed it until now. I thought of my sister and mom and dad and how I would never see them ever again. I cried until my throat was sore and my eyes burned from wiping at them. I don’t know how long I sat there for, but I felt relieved and somehow lighter once I was done. Mourning was a very odd process.
When I was done grieving, I went back inside and quickly found the aisle with kitchen supplies making sure I avoided the express checkout aisle. I grabbed a broom and went back to the front doors. After struggling for fifteen minutes trying to get the doors open wide enough I finally managed to wedge the broom up high between the doors. This allowed me to walk in and out of the grocery store without worrying about opening the doors each time. It also allowed fresh air into the muggy and awful smelling gases that inhabited the store.
I found a grocery cart with a squeaky wheel and started rounding up food to take home with me. I grabbed a lot of chips, snacks and soda. I also figured I should probably get some flashlights and batteries for light. The cart filled up pretty fast.
When I couldn’t fit anything else in the cart I pushed it to the front of the store. I was trying to maneuver the cart outside when I heard a noise in the back of the store. It sounded like someone moving around but I couldn’t be sure. I called out but no one answered. I set the cart outside the door and opened a flashlight package and installed the batteries. Then I pulled the gun from my pocket and went back inside. I walked along the cash registers shining my flashlight down each aisle. I thought I could see shadowy movement at the back of the store but I wasn’t sure. It could have been the flashlight and my fear playing tricks on my eyes.
The smell and my fear were making me nauseas. I had to get out of the store. If I was braver maybe I would have tried harder to find the source of the noise. Maybe it was a survivor. Maybe it was a rat. I decided I didn’t care either way. I walked outside and pushed the cart home.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Sunset: Survivors
Amir Baghira New York, NY October 4th, 1991
After it happened I walked the streets for hours in a daze. The cold rain continued into the evening. I was frozen and chilled to the bone. Smoke poured from some buildings while others appeared untouched by the disaster. I can’t help but think of it that way, a disaster. If I would have been responsible for the deaths of all these useless sheep it would have been a glorious triumph. Since it was some freak act of nature it is a disaster.
The city lights were still on but nothing moved. The twisted metal of automobile crashes lay in huge dripping heaps. Some smoked, some burned and others sat in silence showered by the rain and streetlights. Of course there were bodies literally everywhere. Thousands of them. I had to weave and jump to avoid them. Occasionally I had to walk on top of parked cars for half a block to avoid stepping on them.
I tried to pretend they weren’t there. They weren’t even people to me before so why should they be now? I could not even bear to look at them. Thankfully the majority of them lay face down. The ones that didn’t had their eyes open. I could not meet their cold stare with my own eyes. I had to look away. Why did I all of a sudden care what happened to these useless people. This is what I wanted wasn’t it?
I came out of my trance long enough to realize where I was. As I looked out across the calm black water I could see her standing motionless in the bay. The light from her torch was standing out against the rain and darkness like a beacon calling me to my homeland. Tears started welling up in my eyes and I had to stifle a surprising whimper that rose in my chest. I grew up hating what she stood for. But now she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
I walked back the way I had come. I needed to get out of the rain and think. I went into the first building I came upon that didn’t have too many bodies blocking the entrance. Once inside, I found a couch in the lobby and collapsed onto it. As I sat I contemplated suicide but without any of them to take with me, martyrdom seems out of reach. I closed my eyes and was asleep within minutes.
I awoke to the sound a voice calling my name. The voice was sweet and songlike and definitely female. I opened my eyes and gazed upon one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. She wore sheer and lacy see through garments which barely covered her breasts and mid section. The woman was sitting cross legged on a pillow in front of me. She was smiling. I could not help but smile back at her.
“Hello, Amir” she said.
“Hello” I answered.
There was another voice to my left. “Hello, Amir”.
I looked to my left and sitting next to me on the huge bed I lay upon were four more beautiful women dressed very much like the first. I looked to my right and saw that there were more amazingly beautiful women sitting there also. “My seventy two virgins!” I thought. Thank you Allah!
The ladies leaned in toward me and started massaging my back and shoulders. Some rubbed my feet and ankles. Others caressed my stomach and legs. Soon hands found my manhood and made me erect in seconds. I closed my eyes and relaxed while enjoying my reward for being a martyr to my cause.
Then I smelled it. It was something foul and rotting. I quickly opened my eyes and looked to my left. The skull of one of my virgins grinned back at me through rotting teeth. I looked around and the others were in a much similar state. Some had gray, rotting skin and sunken eyes that looked like black holes. Still others had open sores and bleeding eyes and noses.
I try to get up to flee but the hands hold me down. My erection quickly shrinks and for a moment I think I am going to urinate in my pants. I scream loudly as the virgins tear at my clothes and pull my hair. I can feel their fingernails digging into my skin and drawing blood. When I think I will go insane and can no longer endure the pain I wake up.
I sit up on the couch I fell asleep on screaming. I am drenched in sweat and the pressure on my bladder is unbearable. I am breathing heavily and I feel like I could have a heart attack. I try to calm myself and my breathing grows slower.
I walk over to one of the potted plants that flank the couch and relieve myself. I can see through the glass doors which I entered by that it is now light out. I look to my left and notice a security guard still sits at his assigned post. He wears a blue uniform and cap and his head leans to one side. I realize that he watches me urinate but can do nothing to stop me. This brings a small grin to my face. I grasp the fact that I am finally free. I have no oppressors and I have no responsibilities. There are no authorities to tell me where I can drive, where I can sit and where I can go. There are no more speakers who bring forth information and instructions from the homeland. I can go anywhere and do anything I please. I am FREE!
In all the excitement my stomach has been forgotten and is now telling me that I have not eaten in many hours. If I wish to survive I must find food. I walk to the glass doors at the front of the building and look out. It continues to rain. Everything seems to be as it was twenty four hours earlier. Bodies lie everywhere. Huge masses of twisted metal still smoke like iron volcanoes.
I exit the building and stop on the steps that lead down to the street. Rain still pours from the skies. I look to the heavens and let the rain wash over my body. It is cold but it feels good to feel something again. I look up and down the street searching for somewhere I can get something to eat. I see a sign for a Starbuck’s Coffee across the street and ahead of me about a block. I pick up an umbrella that one of the cattle have dropped. I use it to shield me from the rain as I make my way toward my destination for breakfast. The head of a police officer sits perched perfectly on the curb. I take two quick steps toward it and kick it as hard as I can. I raise my hands to the sky and laugh like I haven’t laughed since childhood.
FREE.
After it happened I walked the streets for hours in a daze. The cold rain continued into the evening. I was frozen and chilled to the bone. Smoke poured from some buildings while others appeared untouched by the disaster. I can’t help but think of it that way, a disaster. If I would have been responsible for the deaths of all these useless sheep it would have been a glorious triumph. Since it was some freak act of nature it is a disaster.
The city lights were still on but nothing moved. The twisted metal of automobile crashes lay in huge dripping heaps. Some smoked, some burned and others sat in silence showered by the rain and streetlights. Of course there were bodies literally everywhere. Thousands of them. I had to weave and jump to avoid them. Occasionally I had to walk on top of parked cars for half a block to avoid stepping on them.
I tried to pretend they weren’t there. They weren’t even people to me before so why should they be now? I could not even bear to look at them. Thankfully the majority of them lay face down. The ones that didn’t had their eyes open. I could not meet their cold stare with my own eyes. I had to look away. Why did I all of a sudden care what happened to these useless people. This is what I wanted wasn’t it?
I came out of my trance long enough to realize where I was. As I looked out across the calm black water I could see her standing motionless in the bay. The light from her torch was standing out against the rain and darkness like a beacon calling me to my homeland. Tears started welling up in my eyes and I had to stifle a surprising whimper that rose in my chest. I grew up hating what she stood for. But now she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
I walked back the way I had come. I needed to get out of the rain and think. I went into the first building I came upon that didn’t have too many bodies blocking the entrance. Once inside, I found a couch in the lobby and collapsed onto it. As I sat I contemplated suicide but without any of them to take with me, martyrdom seems out of reach. I closed my eyes and was asleep within minutes.
I awoke to the sound a voice calling my name. The voice was sweet and songlike and definitely female. I opened my eyes and gazed upon one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. She wore sheer and lacy see through garments which barely covered her breasts and mid section. The woman was sitting cross legged on a pillow in front of me. She was smiling. I could not help but smile back at her.
“Hello, Amir” she said.
“Hello” I answered.
There was another voice to my left. “Hello, Amir”.
I looked to my left and sitting next to me on the huge bed I lay upon were four more beautiful women dressed very much like the first. I looked to my right and saw that there were more amazingly beautiful women sitting there also. “My seventy two virgins!” I thought. Thank you Allah!
The ladies leaned in toward me and started massaging my back and shoulders. Some rubbed my feet and ankles. Others caressed my stomach and legs. Soon hands found my manhood and made me erect in seconds. I closed my eyes and relaxed while enjoying my reward for being a martyr to my cause.
Then I smelled it. It was something foul and rotting. I quickly opened my eyes and looked to my left. The skull of one of my virgins grinned back at me through rotting teeth. I looked around and the others were in a much similar state. Some had gray, rotting skin and sunken eyes that looked like black holes. Still others had open sores and bleeding eyes and noses.
I try to get up to flee but the hands hold me down. My erection quickly shrinks and for a moment I think I am going to urinate in my pants. I scream loudly as the virgins tear at my clothes and pull my hair. I can feel their fingernails digging into my skin and drawing blood. When I think I will go insane and can no longer endure the pain I wake up.
I sit up on the couch I fell asleep on screaming. I am drenched in sweat and the pressure on my bladder is unbearable. I am breathing heavily and I feel like I could have a heart attack. I try to calm myself and my breathing grows slower.
I walk over to one of the potted plants that flank the couch and relieve myself. I can see through the glass doors which I entered by that it is now light out. I look to my left and notice a security guard still sits at his assigned post. He wears a blue uniform and cap and his head leans to one side. I realize that he watches me urinate but can do nothing to stop me. This brings a small grin to my face. I grasp the fact that I am finally free. I have no oppressors and I have no responsibilities. There are no authorities to tell me where I can drive, where I can sit and where I can go. There are no more speakers who bring forth information and instructions from the homeland. I can go anywhere and do anything I please. I am FREE!
In all the excitement my stomach has been forgotten and is now telling me that I have not eaten in many hours. If I wish to survive I must find food. I walk to the glass doors at the front of the building and look out. It continues to rain. Everything seems to be as it was twenty four hours earlier. Bodies lie everywhere. Huge masses of twisted metal still smoke like iron volcanoes.
I exit the building and stop on the steps that lead down to the street. Rain still pours from the skies. I look to the heavens and let the rain wash over my body. It is cold but it feels good to feel something again. I look up and down the street searching for somewhere I can get something to eat. I see a sign for a Starbuck’s Coffee across the street and ahead of me about a block. I pick up an umbrella that one of the cattle have dropped. I use it to shield me from the rain as I make my way toward my destination for breakfast. The head of a police officer sits perched perfectly on the curb. I take two quick steps toward it and kick it as hard as I can. I raise my hands to the sky and laugh like I haven’t laughed since childhood.
FREE.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Sunset: Survivors
Stan Howard Las Vegas, NV October 4th, 1991
After Stan made it back to his room, he sat on his bed and stared at the wall for six straight hours. The shock of what he had seen overwhelmed him. Stan drifted in and out of a conscious state for those hours. Occasionally he was aware of where he was. When in a deeper state of shock or denial, Stan’s mind went to his home town of Clear Creek, Wisconsin in the south eastern part of the state.
Clear Creek was a town of about twenty two thousand people. Stan grew up there with his brother and parents in a middle class house in a middle class neighborhood. For the first thirteen years of his life, Stan had a pretty normal childhood. On one cold Saturday in January, normal became the last word Stan would use to describe his childhood.
In the winter months, Stan and his younger brother Charlie would go down to the reservoir to sled. It was the biggest hill around and all the kids would go there after a fresh snow had fallen.
On this particular Saturday morning, Stan’s brother came running into his room to wake him up. A fresh six inches of snow had fallen the night before and it was still coming down. Stan got up and made himself and Charlie a couple bowls of Captain Crunch and sat in front of the television watching cartoons while they ate. Their parents were still asleep and there was no need to wake them.
After breakfast, he and Charlie got dressed in their warmest clothes. They both wore a t-shirt and sweater, two pairs of socks and thermal underwear beneath their jeans. Then they went out to the garage to put on their winter coats, snow pants and snow boots. They topped themselves off with wool caps and mittens.
Now they were ready to brave the bitter Wisconsin temperatures. As they were grabbing their sleds and heading outside, their mother stuck her head in the garage from the kitchen door.
“Keep an eye on your brother, Stanley. And don’t stay out too long. You’ll get frost bite.” his mother warned.
“Okay mom.” Stan replied.
Stan and Charlie exited the garage and started the short walk to the reservoir. It was about three blocks away and only took about ten minutes to walk there. When they reached the hill, there were already a few kids breaking up the fresh powder. Once the snow was packed nice and firm, the hill would become ten times faster. Stan and Charlie rode the hill for the next hour. When their faces and toes could take no more cold, they decided to head home.
The last time they drug snow in the front door, their mom gave them the business. Ever since then, they knew to take off their boots and snow pants in the garage. They entered the garage by the same door they had exited earlier. Even though the garage was not heated, it was much warmer than the frigid temperatures outdoors. The boys welcomed the warmth and they could feel their cheeks and noses begin to thaw.
Charlie shut the garage door behind them and leaned his sled on the wall. There was a spot for their sleds next to the snow thrower and shovel their dad would be using later this morning. Charlie sat down on the floor and started to remove his frozen snow boots. He looked up and noticed Stan was not doing the same. Just then Stan went tearing off into the kitchen through the garage door. He was screaming for their dad. Charlie could not figure out what had gotten into Stan. Then he saw what had made his brother run so wildly into the house and he started to cry.
Stan’s father had been sitting on the couch drinking his coffee and reading the sports page. He was particularly interested in an article about his beloved Badgers football team and who would be their head coach next year. Stan raced into the living room screaming and crying. He could not form any intelligible words but kept looking back at the kitchen.
Stan’s father quickly walked into the kitchen and noticed the door that led to the garage was open. He could hear Charlie crying. He ran to the door and looked out. In the garage next to their nineteen sixty Chevrolet Impala hung his wife. Her feet were about a foot off of the floor. She had tied an extension cord to the rails that the garage door ran on. She then stood on a five gallon bucket and tied the other end around her neck. That was all she needed.
Stan sat on the bed in his hotel room and stared at the beige pattern-less wall paper. Although his eyes were open, he was not really seeing anything. His mind was two thousand miles away in Clear Creek. Why these thoughts came back now he had no idea. He honestly had not thought of his mother in a couple years. The sight of the woman gripping at his pant leg had jarred something. The helpless feeling Stan felt right now was eerily similar to the feeling he had back on that Saturday in January thirty years ago.
Stan stood up and walked into the closet closing the mirrored door behind him. He lay down on the colorful carpeted floor, curled up in a ball and cried himself to sleep.
After Stan made it back to his room, he sat on his bed and stared at the wall for six straight hours. The shock of what he had seen overwhelmed him. Stan drifted in and out of a conscious state for those hours. Occasionally he was aware of where he was. When in a deeper state of shock or denial, Stan’s mind went to his home town of Clear Creek, Wisconsin in the south eastern part of the state.
Clear Creek was a town of about twenty two thousand people. Stan grew up there with his brother and parents in a middle class house in a middle class neighborhood. For the first thirteen years of his life, Stan had a pretty normal childhood. On one cold Saturday in January, normal became the last word Stan would use to describe his childhood.
In the winter months, Stan and his younger brother Charlie would go down to the reservoir to sled. It was the biggest hill around and all the kids would go there after a fresh snow had fallen.
On this particular Saturday morning, Stan’s brother came running into his room to wake him up. A fresh six inches of snow had fallen the night before and it was still coming down. Stan got up and made himself and Charlie a couple bowls of Captain Crunch and sat in front of the television watching cartoons while they ate. Their parents were still asleep and there was no need to wake them.
After breakfast, he and Charlie got dressed in their warmest clothes. They both wore a t-shirt and sweater, two pairs of socks and thermal underwear beneath their jeans. Then they went out to the garage to put on their winter coats, snow pants and snow boots. They topped themselves off with wool caps and mittens.
Now they were ready to brave the bitter Wisconsin temperatures. As they were grabbing their sleds and heading outside, their mother stuck her head in the garage from the kitchen door.
“Keep an eye on your brother, Stanley. And don’t stay out too long. You’ll get frost bite.” his mother warned.
“Okay mom.” Stan replied.
Stan and Charlie exited the garage and started the short walk to the reservoir. It was about three blocks away and only took about ten minutes to walk there. When they reached the hill, there were already a few kids breaking up the fresh powder. Once the snow was packed nice and firm, the hill would become ten times faster. Stan and Charlie rode the hill for the next hour. When their faces and toes could take no more cold, they decided to head home.
The last time they drug snow in the front door, their mom gave them the business. Ever since then, they knew to take off their boots and snow pants in the garage. They entered the garage by the same door they had exited earlier. Even though the garage was not heated, it was much warmer than the frigid temperatures outdoors. The boys welcomed the warmth and they could feel their cheeks and noses begin to thaw.
Charlie shut the garage door behind them and leaned his sled on the wall. There was a spot for their sleds next to the snow thrower and shovel their dad would be using later this morning. Charlie sat down on the floor and started to remove his frozen snow boots. He looked up and noticed Stan was not doing the same. Just then Stan went tearing off into the kitchen through the garage door. He was screaming for their dad. Charlie could not figure out what had gotten into Stan. Then he saw what had made his brother run so wildly into the house and he started to cry.
Stan’s father had been sitting on the couch drinking his coffee and reading the sports page. He was particularly interested in an article about his beloved Badgers football team and who would be their head coach next year. Stan raced into the living room screaming and crying. He could not form any intelligible words but kept looking back at the kitchen.
Stan’s father quickly walked into the kitchen and noticed the door that led to the garage was open. He could hear Charlie crying. He ran to the door and looked out. In the garage next to their nineteen sixty Chevrolet Impala hung his wife. Her feet were about a foot off of the floor. She had tied an extension cord to the rails that the garage door ran on. She then stood on a five gallon bucket and tied the other end around her neck. That was all she needed.
Stan sat on the bed in his hotel room and stared at the beige pattern-less wall paper. Although his eyes were open, he was not really seeing anything. His mind was two thousand miles away in Clear Creek. Why these thoughts came back now he had no idea. He honestly had not thought of his mother in a couple years. The sight of the woman gripping at his pant leg had jarred something. The helpless feeling Stan felt right now was eerily similar to the feeling he had back on that Saturday in January thirty years ago.
Stan stood up and walked into the closet closing the mirrored door behind him. He lay down on the colorful carpeted floor, curled up in a ball and cried himself to sleep.
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