Hard Times

May

What would you be willing to give up when you have nothing? Your possessions, your skills, your body? At the end of the day, stripped of everything, what do you have; the clothes on your back, your body, your soul? When faced with that dilemma, how do you make the decision of what your offers are worth? What will you give up for a roof over your head, money in your pocket, food in your babies' mouth? When you only have enough food for one person, how do you decide which of your babies get it? Who do you sacrifice?

The day was miserable. 103 degrees and rising. Because misery loves company the day was not alone. My hair stuck to my head from sweat as I heaved boxes from the 1960 Chevy truck that Shaun had rebuilt; it was the third, and last, load of the day. Bending backwards, I stretched with my hands on my back, the little bulge of my stomach doing nothing to keep me balanced. I was only four months along, and it already felt as though it had been twenty. Luckily it didn’t look like it. I already day dreamed, wondering if it was going to be a girl or a boy. I hoped that it would be a boy, but you never knew. In my family girls outnumbered the boys. In Shaun’s family however, it was the other way around. No matter the gender, though, it would be loved by all of us, not the least by me.

Right now, Shaun was in the house, hauling our computer desk with his brother Anthony. A lot of my stuff was going in storage though. On the six acres my in-laws owned, there were two storage containers, a shed and a workshop. My tubs of mementos and cloth were going in one of the storage containers that had previously been halfway emptied the year before the economy had taken such a downward turn. We had to make sure that only what we absolutely needed was actually brought inside. As it was, it was going to be a full house. In three bedrooms, there would my in-laws, Raymond and Laurie, my brother-in-law Anthony and his wife Susan, as well as Shaun and I.

Anthony and Susan had moved in about three months ago when he had been laid off. As a teacher, she had been unemployed for a year and a half already, only managing to land a substituting job once a month or so. Nothing steady. Anthony has many talents, his job being that of a heating and air conditioning technician. When no one has a job, however, no one can afford his services. Thus he had to be let go. Raymond and Laurie were retired, and the checks had stopped coming in. Instead, they were gardening for their food as well as having a few chickens. I had quit my job a year ago to go back to school and haven’t been able to find a job since. Now that Shaun lost his job, it was all over. He had worked for the Government launching rockets. Ever since Democrats came into power, they had been demilitarizing the country starting with the dismantling of Guantanamo Bay. Now, they had finally cut all funding of military expeditions into space and half the work force at Vandenburg Air Force Base and the John F Kennedy Space Center had been laid off. Hence, we were now moving in with his parents. There was no work for him despite his many talents. Planes were too expensive to keep flying and nobody had money for gas let alone any to pay someone an extravagant amount of money to fix their cars.

Luckily we still had our savings left. So, we sat down a couple of weeks ago and hatched out our plan. At the cattle auction next week, we were going to buy a bull and a couple of heifer. This would be enough to get us going in starting a herd. We were also planning on buying pigs and more chickens as well as seeds for all types of vegetables. We were going to have a self-sustaining farm so that we won’t have to worry about food for all of us in the hard times that were blowing in like a hurricane from the sea.

First, however, we had to clear the trees from the unused bits of land to make room for the cattle. The trees were going to be stripped down and chopped up nicely for firewood. I was going to help with the processing of the trees. The guys were afraid to have me working around falling trees as I was no longer as limber as I once was. Raymond, Shaun, Anthony and Susan were the ones who would be chopping down the great trees while Laurie would be helping me. Raymond and Susan were going to do the sawing and Anthony and Shaun would haul them up to Laurie and me. We would begin all this the next day. For now, we would concentrate on getting everything put into its place so that it was one less thing that needed to be done.



The corals were a massive confusion of dust and lowing cattle. It smelled of ripe, sweaty men and my deodorant was giving up as quickly as I put it on. It just could not stand up to the strength of the immense heat it was battling against. I don’t know why I had come, but I didn’t want to stay at home and was trying to make myself useful. Ahead of me, the guys were looking at all the cattle and discussing the various merits of each one. Of course, a major factor was how much we had budgeted for them. We also wanted to get pigs and some chickens and we only had $10,000 for savings. Luckily for us, there really weren’t that many buyers there and the prices had been driven really low because of the tough times. Unfortunately, those that were there were cattle Barons who were willing to lay down a good price for the best there was on the market.


An hour before the auction actually started, Shaun and I made our way to the auctioneer’s station where we were suppose to register as a Buyer. The woman who greeted us was a buxom blonde whose natural black was racing to take back their home turf; another testament to the economy in that she couldn’t afford to re-dye her hair.

After filling out a brief questionnaire with such questions as name address etc., she finally noticed we were standing there in front of her.

“Name?” She asked in a nasally, grating voice.

“Shaun Smith” My husband replied in that strong, steady voice that I loved to listen to.

“How many cattle are you looking to buy?”

“3-4, one bull, the others heifers.”

“What price range?”

“Up to five thousand total.”

“Method of payment?”

“Cash.” At this answer, the lady seemed to falter for a second before continuing.

“Method of transportation?”

“Hired.”

“That will be $150 a head and $10 a mile.” Shaun and I both winced a little, but didn’t protest as we had no way of getting the cattle home ourselves. “Here is a list of regulations. You must read and then sign.” Quietly, we took the paper and read over everything, especially the fine print. In a nut shell, it said that we had to present payment immediately after the auction was over and it had to be validated before we could take the cattle home. If your money wasn’t any good, then the cattle would automatically go back to its owner. It also claimed that the owner, as well as the Cattlemen’s Association, was not responsible for the animal’s health, you buy said cattle as they are.

This last part kind of left an acidic taste in my mouth. We will have to be very careful which cows we pick and even then, the price will have shot up sky high. Finally, we signed the paper and were given a listing of all the animals being sold that day. “Okay. Your number is 2481, here is your paddle. When wanting to place a bid, simply place your paddle silently in the air, the auctioneer will take care of the rest. If you shout out your bid, you may be subject to automatic disqualification. Have fun! “ The faux blonde told us cheerily before waving forward the next person in line.



There was still a half hour to go before the auction started and we were looking at the bulls available for sale. There were only 10 that day, and we knew it was going to be our most expensive purchase. Suddenly, I felt someone behind me and before I could turn around, he had one arm around my neck and the other held a gun to my head. The ease with which assailant angled my head slightly upwards told me that he was very tall; at least 6’5”. The amount of hair on the arm confirmed that he was male. “Give me all your money and I will allow her to live.” His voice was hoarse, as though he screamed at people all day long. It was a sound I knew I could easily recognize out of a crowd. I tried to look at his face, but all I could see were sharp, defined lines hidden by dark cloth. This mugging was not a spur-of-the-moment decision, but probably planned out as soon as the date for the auction was given out two months ago.

Shaun stepped forward cautiously with his hands raised slightly so that my attacker could see them at all times. “Let her go, and we will give you all that we have.”

“Money first!” The man countered, “Otherwise she comes with me as collateral.”

“Okay, let me get it.” I really wanted to tell Shaun not to do it, it was money that was going to help us survive these upcoming years, but at the same time, I really didn’t want to be taken away by this man, so I kept quiet, just hoping not to antagonize him and to keep me and my baby safe.

Shaun bent over and pulled a small pouch from the lip of his shoe and went to hand it over. “Count it.” Was the next command that was rasped from behind me. Shaun did so slowly, counting and making sure each bill was seen clearly. The total amount came to $1,493, only a fraction of what we actually brought. “Where is the rest?”

“There is no more. We were only going to buy a milk cow.”Anthony said from where he stood beside Shaun. Raymond just kept quiet, standing slightly behind his sons, trying to appear inconspicuous.

“That’s a lie. You came with $5,000 and intended to pay in cash. Now hand it over or she is going to die.” He said, yanking his arm that was around my neck higher and hitting my head with the barrel of his gun, making me cry out and see stars as I was beginning to run out of air. I wrapped my arms around my waist where my unborn child lay, and looked Shaun in the eyes. I could see the fury in them, but also the deep-seated fear.

“Okay. Anthony, Dad, pull out the rest.” As each of them bent toward their shoes, another voice added to the situation behind me. It was cool, like the first frost of winter.

“Let these people go, Jethro. You need to leave this auction immediately and don’t ever let me see you again.” Quickly, the arm around my throat released me and I fell to the ground, coughing and gasping for air. Immediately I was cradled in Shaun’s arms as he tried to help me relax so that I could breathe more easily. “I am sorry about that folks. I just learned of what my assistant Hailey and Jethro had planned as you were the third people they tried to rob. Luckily they hadn’t been successful with either endeavor.” I looked up as I was recovering my breathing and looked at the man who had saved us. He was about Shaun’s height: 6’3” with a lean and sturdy build. His midnight hair was liberally peppered with white He kind of reminded me of that friendly elderly man that use to always greet you in a Wal-Mart before the economy declared them to be a useless money pit. “Please, why don’t you come with me out of the sun, so you can gather your wits about you once again?” I gratefully nodded. I needed to sit somewhere comfy and the guys were worried about how I was. At this moment, I was just glad that Laurie and Susan hadn’t come with us, or it really would have been a circus.

The kindly stranger led us to the main building and into a cool, plush office where he offered us seats and refreshments. We all gulped down the offered water as if we had been wandering the desert for the last week.

“My name is Mike Daniels; I am the organizer of this here Cattle Auction. To compensate for what happened to you, I am going to send your purchases for free. I see you don’t live further away than two hours from here, Creston, isn’t it?”

“Yes sir.” Raymond answered in awe. Of course, we all knew who Michael Daniels was, one of the biggest cattle ranch owners in California.

November

The pain was excruciating. I had been in labor for 12 hours, and there was no end in sight. Despite having planned on giving birth at home, I knew it was time we got to the hospital. I was so sure there was something wrong. I don’t know what was scarier, the fact that I would surely die if I stayed there, or the fact that Laurie and Susan were thinking the same way. All of us agreed that our meager gas reserves were worth using at this point. Horse and buggy were not going to get us anywhere. Susan stayed on the ranch with Dakota to look after the animals, shotgun in hand, and Laurie and I got into the truck.

It was a ride I never want to live through again. The roads were not maintained since they were so far back and not a main road. So in addition to the labor pains, I had to contend with the potholes and cracks in the asphalt. Laurie tried as much as she could to avoid them, but there were many areas that she could not swerve especially in those hair-pin turns. Because we had to drive slower, it took forty minutes instead of the normal twenty to get to the hospital, and I was still contracting every few minutes. To me, it seemed to be a never ending wave of pain and I wished that I had the mother of Epidural shots, although from my reading I knew I was long past the point of being allowed one even if Obama care actually covered something so frivolous.

I wasn’t really aware of my surroundings as we pulled up to the emergency entrance at Twin Cities Community Hospital. I do know, that Laurie wasn’t able to stop at the front of the entrance as there were many people milling around. We had to park in the lot for outpatients and I leaned against her as we made our way over there, stopping every few minutes as a contraction swept over me. When we got closer to all the people, I noticed that over half of them were injured in some way. Many of them covered in bandages while others were either being worked on or waiting on their turn. We were stopped at the door by a robust male nurse.

“I’m sorry, but you cannot come in. The hospital is full at the moment. All who need medical care are waiting out here in the parking lot. We will get to you when we can.” Suddenly, I doubled over as another contraction hit.

“You have to let us in! My daughter is having a baby and there is something wrong! It has been 13 hours since her labor began. Please, let us get her on a bed and a doctor to look at her!”

“I’m sorry, but there are no beds or doctors available. You have to wait out here until we can get to you. There are others who are in much more dire straits then you seem to be at the moment.”

“Laurie,” I rasped. “I need to sit down, I can’t take this anymore! Please” I whimpered. The pain was excruciating.

“Please, go over there” this was said while pointing to the busy parking lot “and a doctor will see to you momentarily.”

“Come Bertrice. We will just have to deliver this baby ourselves.” I staggered as we walked between the people, almost pulling Laurie down to the ground. Finally we found a small patch were we could semi lie down. Laurie took off her coat and placed it down on the ground. “Here, lay on this.” She said.

“I can’t do that. You are going to get cold.”

“That doesn’t matter right now. What does matter is bringing this little one to the world as healthy as we possibly can.” Giving up, I laid down on the coat so that my hips and my knees were over it. When the baby came, I did not want it coming out onto the asphalt. As I settled down another contraction hit and I could not bite back my scream. Everyone in the parking lot paused and looked over to where we were.

“Oh my God! That woman is having a baby!”

“Why won’t they let her into the hospital?”

“Where is the doctor? We don’t need the help. Go help that lady!” It is amazing how cynical you realize you have become until you are brought face to face with true human nature. Sure, the ones that you see on TV and elsewhere are battle hardened assholes. But on the street, at times when it counts, people will help you and be there for you. As I panted and tried not to push, I became aware of the people surrounding me; giving me encouragement and trying to help. Between contractions, a man came up behind me and rested me on his lap so that I was slightly elevated and was in a better position to push. I had never longed for Shaun as much as I had in this moment. I wished that our lives were still as we had planned. When we decided to try to have a baby, our life was still great. He was employed, I was almost finished with school and our future looked bright. Then the economy took a turn for the worse and look where we were. Shaun was off helping blizzard victims in Montana and I was in a parking lot of a hospital about to give birth with Laurie and a bunch of strangers helping me.

It was another twenty minutes before my child finally decided to come out into the world. Evidently, it decided that since the doctor hadn’t yet shown up, he never would. I had two women at my sides holding my hand. Another one at my feet with Laurie helping her as she had three children of her own and knew what to expect. Of course, Laurie also had two sons, but two heads are better than one. Someone had gotten them a soft blanket out of their car to catch the little one it and I was ready. I was getting so tired and weak. I knew that if my baby wasn’t born in the next five minutes, I wouldn’t be able to physically help it any more. So with the next contraction I pushed as hard I was able.

“Come on Bertrice. You are doing great! I see its head! A fully head of hair. Give another push and soon your baby will be in your arms.” It was another two minutes before my strength gave out and I could feel my baby leaving my body. I was lying their limp, a manly hand running through my hair in what I suppose was suppose to be comforting; but all I could concentrate on was the silence. Where were the screams of my baby? Why isn’t it protesting the cold? Is it a girl? Is it a boy? All I knew was the ominous silence.

Suddenly a loud wail pierced the night and a cheer rose in all those in the parking lot. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I held my arms out to hold my darling newborn.

“Congratulations, Bertrice. You have a beautiful baby boy.”

“Welcome my little one. Welcome my Davie.” I whispered in his ear as I held him close to me. Someone wrapped us in a soft downy blanket, but all I knew was Davie and the ghost of his father, Shaun, who I knew was somewhere in a snowy bunker thinking of us, loving us, as I have always loved and thought of him.  

August

It was raining for the first time in months. It wasn’t the type of rain that drenched you as soon as you went outside, but the steady drizzle that nevertheless got you quite wet. I was seven months along at the time, and just standing out there felt better than anything since the baby had made its presence known. In fact, all of us were standing out there. The pigs stared at us, as though wondering what the hell we were doing there instead of feeding them. The chickens didn’t even bother making an appearance, and the cattle just droned on as if there was no change in what was happening around them. We were all exhausted. After months of draught we couldn’t even bring ourselves to rejoice. Shaun wrapped his arms around me. Together, we just stood there wondering what was going to come next.

“Beatrice, I have found a way to make some money.” Shaun said quietly one night as we were all seated in the living room, a fire glowing in the oven behind us. Laurie and I were darning socks, Laurie was reading a book, Anthony and Raymond were braiding ropes while Shaun was going through a week old newspaper. All of us stopped what we were doing and looked up at his announcement, though.

“What is it, son?” Raymond asked.

“There is an ad here for strong, able bodied men to work for a good wage. They are offering $5 an hour with lodging and limited provisions provided.”

“What kind of work, and where is it?” Anthony asked.

“Well, it is something I have seen every once in a while. They are looking for men to do government projects such as natural
disasters. They will provide transportation, we just have to show up. They are recruiting in San Luis Obispo and will be leaving the first of the month.” 

CHAPTER FOUR

It was difficult to see the corn I was picking off the stalks. My vision was blocked by the massive hat that Laurie insisted that I wear. I couldn’t really fault her for her thinking; my skin was already blistered and burnt to a crisp from laboring under the sun for so long, day in and day out. It wasn’t only my face that was blistered though. My arms were, as well as my legs, as the clothes by now were just hanging off me, the lack of food and nourishment slowly making itself known. The clothes themselves were no longer in the best of shape. Wal-Mart quality clothes just cannot outlast the rigor of hard labor.

Straightening up, I put my hands at the small of my back and stretched backwards. I was tired, sweaty. I knew, however, that there was too much work to do and I could not slack off. Laurie was in the house preparing dinner; Susan and Raymond were in the fields, picking grapes while Shaun and Anthony were still down south fighting the fires by L.A... I was only on the farm because someone was needed to watch the animals and take care of the food. There was so much food to pick. After the corn, there were the green beans. After the green beans I had to pull up the potatoes. Not to mention the cherry trees and the apple trees that needed picking and canning. Once the food got inside though, Laurie was in charge of peeling, cleaning, prepping and canning. I would join in and help her as soon as I was done out here.

Suddenly, I heard a rustling among the stalks. I put my hands on the shotgun beside me and slowly raised in the direction of the noise. We had had so many problems with vagabonds coming to steal our food that I couldn’t take the chance that someone might get the drop on me. As stealthily as I was able, I crept down the aisle towards where the noise had originated.

 

September

The dogs were barking in warning; the tone of their voices unmistakable as Dakota and I were wrenched out of a deep sleep. We knew what that meant: Raiders. Swiftly I made sure Dakota knew to stay in the room and watch over Davie before going into the next room to find Susan and Anthony already awake. Making our way through the dark, we got the rifles out of the hallway closet and stealthily made our way out of the house and out to the pasture where the cattle were being kept.

Making their way to the pasture were five men, all on horseback. Leaning over to Susan and Anthony, I whispered “Take out the men; keep the horses alive if possible. We need to split up. I’ll take the south, Anthony, you take the north and Susan, and you take the west.” They nodded, and we went to take our positions. The five men were quietly tying ropes around the cattle’s necks and although I knew I should take the shot, I didn’t want to be the first to fire. They were soon headed towards the gate and I knew that it was now or never. I sighted the leader in my scope and before I thought about it, squeezed the trigger.

The next five minutes were chaos. The cattle were stampeding; luckily the fencing was tough enough to keep them in. As the cattle and the dust settled, we could make out five figures lying in the dirt. Susan and Anthony looked to me and I shook my head. It would be folly to go out there with violently restless cows and five men we weren’t sure were dead.
We crouched there in the dark, our rifles trained on the still bodies, a good hour before all was quiet again. Finally, I slowly stood up and gestured to the others to carefully make our way to them. As we were only five feet away, I shot into the ground near one of their heads. None of them so much as twitched.

In the end, all five were dead, two from the cows, one of exposure, and the other two were shot dead on between the eyes, courtesy of the only rifle to have fired that night.
 

CHAPTER FIVE

Dakota was out in the back under the trees, scrubbing at the clothing in the tub before her. Even though only 12 years old, she was needed to help out around the house, that chore being one of the harder ones. Davy was sucking at my nipple as I sat at the flower beds,
pulling out the weeds threatening to take over and kill the gardenias resting there.

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

There was nothing I could do to stop the choked sobs that were issuing from my throat. There was also nothing I could do to make the bundle in my arms emit one more cry. It was so cold, and there was nothing I could do to stop that either. I was powerless, helpless, weak. So weak. They all watched me, suspicions in their eyes, but none wanting to voice them aloud. Gripping him in my arms, I squeezed him as hard as I could, willing Davy to open his eyes and start protesting the great pressure on his fragile body; Nothing. The room remained as silent as a tomb, for a tomb was what this house was becoming. Everything was so cold and my son had cried for the last time. His hunger was gone.

We were cold and hungry. All of us felt that deep seated knawing on our bones that never let up in its persistence. None of us could do any work without having to pause midway so as to not fall over from weakness.  

CHAPTER EIGHT

The fires were raging in the south. Susan and I were both worried about Shaun and Anthony. From their letters we knew that they were working with limited resources and unlimited man power. Which meant that our husbands were out there in the fume entombed hills of San Diego with protection only if they were lucky.
 

April

It had been a month since we had had the chance to go into town and pick up the mail. It had been that long since we had had a crop worth selling. So it was that after dark that day, we made a stop at the worn looking post office and went to our post office box that, as always, was teeming with letters. I recall none of those letters, but the one that brought about a change in my life that can never be taken back. The words are forever burned into the back of my retinas and carved into the walls of the chambers of my heart:

Mrs. Shaun Smith:

It is to our regret to have to inform you of a fatal accident which has befallen your husband. He was gravely injured during the course of service to his country while fighting the catastrophic fires of the San Diego area. At this moment, he is lying in our local hospital and we have no idea when he will pass on. Unfortunately due to the state of our economy, we do not have the supplies to heal him.
We send our deepest condolences in your time of great loss.

Graham Ford
Mayor of San Diego

Shock reigned in the first moments after having read the letter. I was glued to my seat in the buggy as we trotted down the road heading home. I was rendered deaf, mute and blind all at once. I heard nothing going on around me, not the chatter of my family or the clopping of the horses’ hooves, I couldn’t see the road ahead of me, or the letter in my hands, only the words sketched into my memory. There was no way I could utter a sound, for if I were to tell Laurie that her son was dying, it would make me face its reality.

“Bertrice, what’s the matter?” Susan asked me. “Are Shaun and Anthony going to have to stay that much longer? I know you miss him, I miss my husband too. They’ll be okay though. The fires can’t continue for that long.” I shook my head. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the letter wasn’t written by my husband. I wouldn’t have been able to tell her even if I wanted to. Mutely, I handed the letter over to her.

I didn’t hear their reactions. All I knew was that Dakota came and for the first time in months, climbed into my lap and gave me a hug.


There was nothing my family could do to convince me to stay. I knew if it were the other way around, I would be the one staying at home while they were the ones heading down south. It was going to be a long hard trek. We only had a quarter tank of gas in the car and it was needed for emergencies on the farm. Thus, I was going to have to go by bicycle. Still, it would take two to three days, depending. And that is without unforeseen circumstances. After much arguing, it was decided that Dakota would come with me. It seemed to me, that without my insistence, no one wanted another mouth to feed. I could see it in their eyes. They only one who even remotely agreed with me was Laurie. But by that time, even she didn’t have much to say on the farm. And so she was outnumbered by Susan and Raymond. In some ways I could understand as there wasn’t much food to be had on the farm, but she was still just a little girl. Only 12 years old. Still, we outfitted both a bike for me as well as one for her. On the back of both bikes, we packed as much food as we could, as well as some clothes and basic essentials. After some hugs and good wishes not to mention many tears, we were on our way, riding down a road I normally would never have cycled down when the economy had seen cars traveling it frequently.

At first, everything seemed to be going well. Of course, the whole time I was worried about Shaun. Where was he? Was he hurting? Was he thinking of me? Was he still alive? Of all my thoughts, the last was what terrified me the most. Would I be able to see him one last time? But also prayed. I prayed as hard as I did for Davy, probably harder. With Davy, I knew there was no hope; it was a matter of time. With Shaun, I had the hope that, while I traveled they would find a way to save him. In fact, I could almost convince myself that it had taken so long for me to get the letter, that he was already healthy and would meet me half way between home and San Diego.
During the ride, Dakota didn’t say much. She was highly aware of the necessity of speed and stayed in her quiet nature supporting and uncomplaining. About noon, we stopped for a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of water before continuing. We were on the highway now, just passing the Santa Margarita exit. Then, an hour later, we reached the top of the grade. A tall mountain whose grade was 7%. Despite the fact that there weren’t so many cars on the road, bicyclists still had to take a path that went off the side of the highway into a deep slope and was away from the danger of the cars that could become out of control and kill anyone on the side of the road. It was there that the first obstacle of my journey began. The first in a life time of hardships and tragedies.

The beginning of that wayside trail was very steep. It was a trek I did not want to risk riding down on. Instead, I told Dakota to get off her bike, while I did the same, and that we were going to walk our bikes down the trail. I went ahead, Dakota just behind me. As I was carefully edging my right foot forward, it slipped, my ankle twisting. My grip on my bicycle loosened and it slammed into me, causing my body to fling forward and I careened into a tumble down the trail. I vaguely heard Dakota screaming behind me. Everyone in a while, I could see her running down after me, practically dragging her bicycle behind her.

When I reached the bottom, I just lay there, unable to move a muscle. A minute later, Dakota reached me and knelt before me, panting as though she had just run a marathon. “Bertrice! Are you okay? Talk to me!” I tried to answer her, but I could not force a sound to pass my lips. I tried to nod, but the pain was so great that I could not even move a millimeter. Dakota left my sight for a minute and then I felt the weight of my bike being lifted off of me. My world exploded in an ocean of pain. I could not help the scream that escaped my lips. It resounded on the trees and Dakota rushed to me trying to make it stop. Nothing she did helped. Nothing she did could help. I was lost in wave after wave of agony and soon all I knew was darkness.

As I revived from the darkness, the sun light was waning and I was shivering. Beside me, Dakota was resting, shivering just as hard as I was. Groaning, I slowly stood up and made my way over to where my bicycle lay. My movements were laborious and slow. I stifled the urge to sit down and continued to where my pack was tied to it, miraculously undisturbed from its long tumble. Opening it, I took out our sleeping bags. Going back to Dakota, I unzipped both of them and lay one along the ground. I woke Dakota and guided her sluggishly to where the blanket was and laid us both down pulling the other one over us. I drifted back off to sleep.



When I awoke, the first thing I noticed was the warmth radiating from the small girl in my arms. The next thing was the murmur of voices. It seemed out of place among the beauty of the melody coming from the trees.
 


There were men with guns on almost every street corner as we entered the city. It was just another thing to add to my list of forebodings that had started that morning Dakota and I left everyone in Creston. Despite the looming sun outside the city skyline, I felt oppressed and depressed. I pulled Dakota closer to me in the back of that cramped VW Bug in an attempt to find comfort that the little girl just couldn’t give me.

My only hope was reuniting with Shaun. I knew that once I saw him, all my troubles would be alleviated and we would be able to go home where we would be safe.

When we reached closer to the hospital, the car came to a stop. Stacey looked at me in the rear-view mirror. “You are going to need to get out here.” She told me. Looking ahead I saw that the road was blocked, bodies littering the ground.

I cautiously opened the door and looked at the asphalt. Its murky black was tinged with read and looked slightly slick. Suddenly I wished that I had worn my work boots on this trip; the ones I wore at home when I was mucking out stalls.
“Dakota, I want you to hold onto my hand. Don’t let go for anything, understand?” She silently nodded, looking ahead at the dark shadows on the ground ahead of us. As soon as Dakota and I had exited the car, Stacey threw the car into reverse and backed away, wheels squealing as she made haste to get away from the carnage.



The hospital was only chaos. Injured people littered every inch of every room, corridor and stairwell. Many were burn victims from the wildfires, but most of them seemed to have the same symptoms: Yellow eyes, incoherent babbling and their skin was pock-marked as well as being pale and clammy.

Every time I found a nurse or doctor, I would ask them if they knew where Shaun was. None of them had an answer. Sometimes they wouldn’t stop to verbally acknowledge my inquiry. Others would stop for a second, tell me that they were sorry, but the hospital was very full and they had not heard of him. Finally, one nurse vaguely gestured in the direction he had come from and hurried on his way without saying a word.

Keeping Dakota’s hand clutch in my own, I hurried down the stairs and to the door he had come out of. To my horror, its plaque read: “Morgue.” Hoping that they had run out of room for patients and that there were breathing human beings behind this door, I slowly pushed it open and stepped inside. Looking around, there was definitely an overflow problem here as well. Unlike above though, these walls were achingly silent. There were no moans from t eh suffering and no hurried yells from the staff. Only the echo of our steps and unmoving bodies piled along the walls.

Dakota stepped even closer to me, if that was possible. It was as though she were a suction cup, and I her pane of glass. If she weren’t so big, she would’ve demanded to be carried. I would not have been able to though, my knees refused to hold me up and I had to lean on Dakota as much as she clung to me. My hands were shaking so hard, that although I needed to start pulling back sheets that were covering the bodies to look for Shaun, I knew I wouldn’t be able to.

“Can I help you?” Looking up, I was relieved to hear the sound of a human voice. The person was cloaked in shadows and all I could make out was his meager build and a trace of haggard features as he stepped toward us and into the light I saw that he sported heavy stubble; So much stubble, that I knew he hadn’t left these rooms in days.

“I am looking for my husband, Shaun Smith. I can’t find anyone upstairs who knows where he is, and one nurse finally directed me down here.”

“Well, most of the bodies here are unnamed. Too many sick and injured and not enough room. Why doesn’t your little girl stay in my office, while you try to identify him?”

Dakota was unwilling to let me go. I finally brought her to the office myself. Looking around it, I brought down the shades in the only window so she wouldn’t have to look at the gruesome sight outside the room.

I made my way to the front to the room where I had first come in. I really didn’t want to uncover the first body. It was stacked on top of others, a sea of green waves parted for the living as the Red Sea did for Moses. My hand trembled as I reached down to grab the edge of the sheet.

“Stop! You are going to need these.” Straightening up I saw the other man race up to me. He put something in my hands and quickly turned and walked away. Looking down, I realized just what was ahead of me. He had given me a face mask to help with the stench that was already starting to seep into my nasal cavities. I quickly pulled the elastic band over my head and set it firmly in place. The only thing left in my hands were a pair of heavy-duty rubber gloves. I grimaced as I slipped the on. They were huge on my dainty fingers. Clenching my palms slightly so that the gloves wouldn’t fall off, I grasped the sheet of the top corpse by the door and pulled it back slightly to reveal only the face.

As soon as I got a clear view, I had to turn my head away and retch. The face that stared blankly up at me was pock-ridden and putrid. The flesh was no longer taunt about his skull, but sagging and discolored. Without looking at the sad face again, I pulled the sheet over it again and steeled myself against what I had to do next. Silently, the coroner came to me and he grabbed the shoulders of that first corpse while I grabbed its legs. Then I checked the face of the one under it. And so it went until I had checked all four bodies stacked on top of each other, restacked them, and then began then next one.

When I finally found him, I almost didn’t recognize him. While the burns covered him extensively, it was the skin pulled tautly around his cheekbones, the loss of his extra baby fat that made me pause. His body was thin as a rail rather than the muscle-bound man I had known and loved.

I unwrapped the sheet from around him, which was easy as he was on top of the pile about half-way down the wall.
“He was brought in about two hours ago. I am sorry for your loss.” The creepy coroner’s voice came from beside me and I knew that what I was seeing was real.

Slowly, I pulled the sheet back over Shaun. Dakota did not need to see him this way. “I need you to fill out some paperwork to ID him.” The man said and began to lead me back to the office. When I got there, the only thing I could do was collapse into the nearest chair. Instantly, Dakota climbed into my lap and as I looked up to her, I noticed a brochure sitting on the table for funeral homes. It was then that I burst into tears.

I must have cried a good hour. Neither Dakota, nor the coroner tried to stop me or tell me that everything was going to be all right and for that I was grateful. I never did find out that man’s name, but I will be forever grateful for how much he helped me that night. Gently, he informed me that there simply wasn’t enough room for each body to be buried in their own plot, but that they would instead be joined together in a mass grave. Another reason was that half of the dead looked to be victims of some sort of plague. He had a bad feeling that it was going to get quite nasty here in San Diego very soon.

Quickly we finished filling out the paperwork needed for Shaun’s body. Taking out his cell phone, the man quickly called his sister who said that she would take up to L.A., as that was where she lived. He said we needed to get out of town as quickly as possible. I wasn’t in any state to disagree with him and nodded.



The car was silent as we drove through the streets, even though the radio gave only a static buzz. Nothing could be said, there was only chaos. Outside, the rain was still coming down in buckets. As we approached the city limits, we saw more and more people, carrying as much as they could, heading in the same direction. There were entire families and people of all ages leaving San Diego.

Soon, we were forced to come to a complete stop, a mile or so from the outskirts of the metropolis. Everyone was abandoning their cars, grabbing their belongings and moving forward. Some people were driving across the median and driving down the opposite lanes which were eerily empty. Even on that side, though, the cars were starting to back up.

“Dakota.” I said, turning to where she was laying up against me in the back seat. “You need to wake up.”

“Are we there yet?” She mumbled.

“I’m afraid not. We need to walk from here.” It almost broke my heart to make her get out of the car with her small bag of belongings. We were both exhausted and we were both reeling from the reality this nightmare had become. With our driver, the coroner’s cousin, leading the way, we trudged through the rain over the slick asphalt. Every once in a while, one of us would slip, sometimes dropping our bags. It was enough to want to just sit down and give up. I had to be there for Dakota, though; I could not in good conscience leave an 8 year old girl to fend for herself.

As we walked, the moonlight shone on the buildings to each side of the freeway, bathing them in an unearthly light. They looked abandoned, devoid of life. No lights shone out of their windows and although you couldn’t see the ground floors from the elevation of the road, I am sure there were no cars in sight.

As we approached the city limit sign, a symphony of voices rose to a dull roar. It had been relatively silent until then. I looked up from where I had been watching my footing, clung tighter to Dakota’s hand and froze in my tracks. Towering above us was an ugly metal wall, glaring with harsh beams from the large search lights perched on its ramparts.

“You need to turn around now.” The grating voice boomed over the area through loud speakers and brought a hush over the large angry mob gathered around the wall, some even trying to scale it. Suddenly there was a burst of automatic gun fire. The area was suddenly wrought with screams. “San Diego has been put under quarantine. You are not allowed to leave. Supplies will be brought in for medical needs and sustenance. Until a cure is found, we will be keeping the plague contained in this city. Anyone trying to leave will be shot on sight.”

We were stuck in San Diego. The woman who had driven us here was nowhere to be seen. There was nowhere for us to go.