The third tier housed all of the fruit trees. On the north side of this tier, out of sight like a decaying ruin, sat the old orange tree.
It wasn’t much, but it was home. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Entry 3
I spent most of the morning in the garage running the generator. I had found it there soon after this all began. It was a small hand crank generator and it was still in the box, unused. I didn’t know what to do with it a first and thought it might be a one hundred pound paper weight.
One day I finally opened the box and discovered that I could run some small electronics on it, like a hair trimmer, which was nice because I was starting to look like Tom Hanks in Cast Away.
It took me a few days to get it all set up. Instructions aren’t what they used to be. Gone were the days of “insert tab A into slot B.”
I mostly used it for powering the hair clippers and recharging the batteries for my iPod and the radio.
Mandy, my dog, didn’t like the noise the hand crank made when I had to charge the power cells. She would always hide under the computer desk in my parent’s room until I came and got her.
My sister had given Mandy to me, she was gift number two from that birthday years ago. Her real name was Salamander, but we called her Mandy for short. She was a little Australian Shepherd mixed with a little Dalmatian. The Dalmatian characteristics were shown in her short black fur and in her unlimited amounts of energy. The Australian Shepherd side of her was apparent when she tried to herd you down the hallway.
I remember watching TV that day, my birthday. I turned it on after all the gifts were open and everyone had finished singing happy birthday. I wasn’t much of a cake and ice cream person so I turned it on while they were eating to avoid any awkward silences.
The news was on. It was summertime, so of course, it was a slow news cycle. There’s always some fluff piece to fill the time. Sometimes it was the shocking rise in shark attacks or the next big pandemic. This summer was the latter.
They were spouting off about some super flu in China. I always thought it was the next Avian or Swine flu. I couldn’t have been more wrong. While most of us sat in the safety of our living rooms glued to our TVs watching it unfold, we were completely oblivious to the danger that had just deboarded the 5:15 flight from Newark to LAX.
Entry 4
James P. Benson, a financial banker, hadn’t even left the airport when he started throwing up all of his in-flight meal across terminal four. He claimed he was fine, but airport police soon had to subdue him after he became belligerent to another passenger that made a comment about his sickness.
While in their custody Mr. Benson flat lined and was rushed to the E.R. Unfortunately, the doctors were unable to save him. Mr. Benson didn’t show any troubling signs of a virus so the hospital staff didn’t quarantine his body. Hindsight is 20/20.
The virus moved fast, spreading from the morgue and overtaking the hospital in a matter of hours.
Authorities then quarantined the hospital.
Officials thought it was only spread by contact, but when a case was reported in a nearby school it was all over.
Within days all travel to and from the bay cities was restricted. That didn’t stop the panicked families who loaded up their cars, trucks, and motor homes with everything they could, from heading inland. The last cover of Time magazine showed the 10 freeway heading out of Los Angeles. It was a veritable parking lot. If they were to take that same photo today I’m sure it would look exactly the same, except their escape vehicles have turned into their tombs.
It didn’t take long for the virus to be reported across the country. Port cities came first and then it slowly made its way toward the mid-west and central plains.
The news stations kept a live broadcast for a few days before they went off the air one by one. Some of them signed off with their goodbyes and good lucks, others just unceremoniously pulled the plug. It was kind of eerie watching the “Please stand by” symbols overtake the once powerful networks. The opinions of sports commentators and the laugh tracks of sitcoms were replaced by the high pitched whine of the Emergency Broadcast System, a system that never broadcasted anything. I wonder how many of them actually made it home to their families.
My father had fallen into what, at the time, I had thought was hype. He loaded the garage full of emergency provisions, everything from canned foods to water purification tablets. He actually sold our sand rail to make room for all of it, much to the chagrin of the rest of the family. I made fun of him for doing it, but I’m glad he did. I wouldn’t have survived this long without all of it. I would’ve starved long before I had worked up the courage to leave the house and search for sustenance.
He never got a chance to use anything though, as he, along with my mom, disappeared looking for my sister a little before the news stations went off the air.
Entry 5
One of the first things I did after boarding up the house was requisition our hot tub as a water reserve. When I opened it I discovered it was empty. Not surprising since we had only used it once right when we got it. My mom had purchased it from
