creative writing: devastation. the life after (part 10)

Continued from part 9 of the Devastation Series.

Words that I would never have said before traipsed through my mind. The music played and the excitement that I had felt with my head out the window diminished. Not non-existent, but submerged under the layers of dread. It was a fear of discovery and the unearthing or stirring of things that were perceived settled. As I prepared to face the inevitable, I decided to let it go until the time came. I reached around and grabbed one of the worn books from the box and rested it on the steering wheel. The cover became visible under the passing street lights while I distracted myself by flipping through the pages. The strobing lights illuminated paragraph after paragraph. Like a malfunctioning television signal, I was able to read the headlines as I neared home.

Alexa pulled into the drive and the car went into a parked mode. “Alexa, exit routine.” The statement was loud in the small car cabin. The navigation pane scrolled through the self-check diagnostics and displayed the miles until next service events. The seat belt rotated off of me and the cabin illuminated with basic reading lights while I stared at the walkway leading to the front door. I opened the car door and grabbed the box from the gap between the seats. The small space called the trunk could be accessed from just about anywhere in the vehicle. I carried the box by the handles in front of me and used my lower body to push the door shut. “Alexa, lock the car,” and she followed with an affirmation followed by the sound of security being enabled.

The sun just started to crest into the sky. I managed to free up a thumb and opened the door to the house. I scanned the area and realized that Maggie was not up yet. Trying to not make any noise, I walked lightly through the house. I was not trying to hide – but also not trying to bring extra attention to myself. I heard the alarm clock starting to buzz followed by stirring as she silenced it with fumbling sleepy hands. As I walked down the stairs to the basement, I told Alexa to brew a pot of coffee. I figured that I would lose my second wind very soon and would need every bit of wit that I could muster. The beans ground and I could hear the steam preparing. I sat the box down by my desk and pulled the contents out of the box. I lined everything up in unique piles and sat cross-legged on the floor. I requested the alternative station at a lower volume and the downstairs came alive. Upstairs, the alarm went off again, and a small thud vibrated through the floor. The alarm stopped abruptly mid loop.

I walked upstairs and refilled my coffee from the brewed pot. There was a rustling from the bedroom and it was obvious that she was not out of bed yet. I contemplated going into the bedroom but went back downstairs instead. I surveyed the room and concocted a game plan for the next couple of hours. I grabbed the Linx and placed my phone in while folding the keyboard backward to form a tablet. I opened my notes app and started reviewing the notes that I had taken in the apartment. I had made comments about small details such as what kind of animals he was researching. The weather research that was noted was also of interest to me. I imagined it as a paint by numbers and only had a few spots colored in. I quickly flipped through the journals that I had already read as if I was making a childhood animation. I refreshed my memory with some light skimming and placed them to the side. I grabbed the numerically next journal and slowly started to study the pages. The text was very consistent with the prior journals. The story continued to unfold for me.

The pages were worn from hours of writing. I envisioned the book open like a placemat as questions were asked and answers searched. I ruminated on the text and thoughts of the journal pages. I escaped to the dream that I had not that long ago and I wondered if I would have that dream again. Would it always be a dream? I imagined what that life would have been like if I had lived it. I did not take many notes while I read through the material for the first time. I was making mental notes that I would jot down later. However, I kept trailing off in tangents. What was research to Samuel, was a paintbrush to my imagination. I was drawn back to the basement and reality by the thud and thumb from footsteps directly above me. The floor squeaked as Maggie brought life to the upstairs. The bitter smell of coffee whiffed past my nose and I took a sip.

The footsteps walked down the stairs. “Jake?” a voice called to me as she approached. Sleep was still on her face as she yawned while covering her mouth. “Yes, Maggie?” I replied.
“Where were you this morning?” She managed to mumble out mid-yawn.
“I couldn’t sleep. I woke on the couch… and started thinking about things,” I looked down towards the journals.
“What’s that?” She trailed off and picked back up, “I noticed you reading them the other day…” I let out a deep breath and pondered the inevitable conversation. I swigged my coffee and started. I shared that I could not sleep the last night and that I wish she would have woken me for bed. I tested the waters with some tidbits of excitement that I have uncovered within the writings but was careful to not be too vulnerable. I explained the routine job that led to new thoughts. While I wanted to pass along my passion, I realized the situation and casually explained my curiosity. My explanation was deflated at best. “It’s just something that I have been doing, and am curious about, y’ know?” I passed along while studying her reactions. The glazed over look explained everything that I needed to know. Maggie reluctantly nodded and stood in stillness for a moment. She was lost somewhere between waking up and navigating biases. Then, just as quickly as she came downstairs, she said she was going to shower and eluded to letting me be. I was caught off guard but considered the option that I was being supported. Shortly after she left I heard the water running through the pipes in the house and music through floorboards.

I knew that the dust had not settled yet. She did not know about the citation or at least had not brought it up yet. She did not know about the co-op package at my dad’s and my sudden interest in that lifestyle. She knew what I explained to her but not the level of interest that I had. I opened the next journal and started reading. My viewing lens had changed over the last couple of days. I was studying the journals to find out where Samuel was and how to live that life simultaneously immersed myself into the paragraphs, not just reading it like a story. The day slipped away from me and there was little interaction with Maggie. I did, however, finish all the journals and made quite an extensive set of notes. I ended my day reading the books and notes from Samuel’s shelf. Through hours of studying, I was able to know Samuel in a way that I had not. I ended the night on the couch.

The lack of sleep caught up with me Monday afternoon. I grabbed an extra coffee and fought through yawns as I finally worked on the report. I was able to answer all of the questions for each of the apartments – except 116. As I completed the report, I noted that I was not able to determine if the contents were OK for renovation. Renovation meant that the cleaning crew could strip all personal effects and convert the apartment to the company’s style of choice, which usually was a consistent handful of themes. Another crew would update the air intake, filtering systems, and any other out of date to code. I would make some notes during my review, which indicated if the unit was modernized or not. Also, my walk thru was to ensure that no hazardous items were, to the best of my knowledge, on the property.

After submitting the report, I took a break from work and started looking over my notes from 116. I moved the digital note sections into a group of categories such as self-sustainment, location, and current times, where he explained the world and current events. They also painted context for some of the thoughts and triggers for research, I presumed. I looked up to the sound of knocking. Rob, tall and lanky matching his wiry voice was standing outside. He had his PPE on and entered after I motioned for him, as I looked away from the research. “Hey Jake,” he trailed off.
“Rob… what can I do for you today, fine Sir?” I inquired.
“Got your report. I was asked to follow up on a few things that you mentioned in it.” He proposed.
“Sure – go ahead – fire away dude.” I casually laid out there.
“Dennis reviewed the files and noticed there was one apartment left to survey.” He stated.
“116, I assume, I am familiar,” I informed him. He was just a messenger for the area manager. His timid manner also lent to his inquisitive nature. 
“They are really on me to get you guys to finish these quickly…” he started.
“I know you are just doing your job…” I interjected to reassure him.
“…they apparently have a strict timeline to turn this one around. If you don’t finish – then they cannot continue…” He was paraphrasing, I assumed. 
“I got it…” I affirmed, “but I found some interesting things in 116 that I studied… but the rest is done.” It was hard to not be frustrated with his reminders, but I also knew that my job was to flip it and do it quickly. My delay meant that schedules could be backed up and revenue could be lost. I knew, that I was not that far behind, but I still held some guilt for my lack of timeliness.
“Do you think you will have 116 finished this week?” Rob questioned, accepting my answers.
“I will have it complete by mid next week…” I shot out buying a little more window.
“Someone is going to be renting that apartment soon – and unless you want to do that… you need to get it turned…” He stated, gave a cocky thumbs up, smirk, and then backed away. He was right – and I just needed to get the material that I wanted out. The journals could be boxed up if I needed to. I was sure that is what I would do. I pondered going over there after work and grabbing more. I took a sip from my coffee, dug back into my workload, and planned on a trip after work.

I finished work a little later than I normally would that night. I took several breaks during the day to explore small bits of research as my mind strayed. I found that feeding my mind in casual bits throughout the day worked best, but that wandering cost me a few mins at the end of the day. I packed up, put on my PPE, and got into my car. I opened the glovebox and scoot the PPE to the side, pulling out the micro recorder. I connected it and restarted the file from Samuel. With the newness last time, I wondered if I had missed something important. Had he said where he was going in the beginning and I did not hear it during its novelty. I rested my hand on the wheel as if I was driving while I passed through town. My mind focused on the words in the audio.

I paused the audio as I went into the apartment. Remembering my PPE this time, I paused before getting out of the car to make sure that I had everything else that I would need. I walked into the apartment and gazed at the world in front of me. Samuel would sit at that desk, I imagined. I bet he would gaze out the window for hours switching from writing to weighing the realities of the world outside. I imagined him waking up, daydreaming, sleeping, and dreaming… what the normal was before the Devastation compared to the normal afterward… when people accepted and tried to resume life… While I walked around I looked for another box but did not see one at the time. I pulled the next journal off the shelf and started to read the words. After I was finished, I continued to the next one, After completing nine journals I picked up the tenth and noticed the time on my watch. I did not see the sun go down or the texts asking where I was. I lost myself inside of the material. I replied to the last text saying that I lost track of time and was on my way home. 

I looked inside the closet, which I had missed prior, and found a small box. I gathered several more journals and from the shelf and placed them sequentially into the box beside the ones that I had finished. I got my PPE ready and walked out of the apartment, closing it up behind me. The silence of the night and the cool breeze flowed over my body. I loaded the box into the car and got situated inside of the car cabin, raising the PPE on top of my head. The drones are still patrolling the streets and I watched several make passes in front of the complex and cross-sections of road. “Alexa, home,” I called and began the trip back. I turned the audio from Samuel back on and listened to the next section on my trip. I listened closely for details of locations. As I listened, Samuel referenced the Midwest several times but that was a large swath of land. I needed more contextual clues but made a note that the section was a step forward.

The driveway lights created a runway for Alexa to park the car. I carried the box of books into the house. Most of the lights were shut off by now. Every movement that I made seemed to make large disturbances throughout the house. I tiptoed towards the bedroom and could see a large bunch of blankets curled up on Maggie’s side of the bed. I felt like a child sneaking as I squeaked and creaked downstairs. As I entered a fresh smell of dragon’s blood and lavender danced throughout the basement. The music also started to play when the motion sensors detected my movements.

As I organized the read and unread journals, footsteps sounded overhead. Maggie came down the stairs, slightly groggy from waking up, and impatiently asked me where I had been.
“Hey, Maggie… I apologize…” I started. She quickly interrupted me.
“Don’t hey me… you can’t text or call me to tell me that you won’t be home for dinner?” She snapped.
“I stayed late at work. I finished an important report – and needed to swing by one of the new complex units so I could get some things figured out.” I defended myself.
“Jake – what has gotten into you? You are checked out… You don’t communicate… you are becoming like your father.” She asserted with her eyes narrowed sending both accusing and questioning signals.
“Maggie…listen,” I began to plead but was cut off.
“I am going to bed, Jake. I have to work in the AM. Pull your head out of your ass and sleep on the couch.” With that, she turned and pounded her way up the stairs to the bedroom. Her words stung. They were simultaneously accurate and unfair. The clock read 1030 PM. I grabbed a drink from the fridge and made it stronger than normal. I took a swig from the large bottle before putting it back into the freezer.

I grabbed the journals and placed all of them in the larger box then on the desk. I scooted over to the couch and collapsed. I had a vast array of emotions inside of me. Each took turns like a whirlwind interrupted by the next. I was enjoying myself while exploring this past life and another world. I felt like I found inspiration in those journals. He was a person inside of that world losing control, but making a plan, and working through it. As new issues arose, Samuel would explore, research, and experiment with different ways of thinking or doing things.

I was learning to think differently and followed his lead. I felt trapped in my current life and was just realizing that. I did not feel like I fit in, anymore. I just wanted Maggie to support me. She had not in a long time though. I did not know where or when we diverged. I often just felt comfortable. I loved her but doubted that I liked her anymore. I decided, though, that I was going to try harder. We could work on some things and turn that ship around. She was right this time, I was not being myself. “But should a person be that which they did not like?” I rhetorically asked myself. Where did our excitement go, I wondered? I sunk into the couch and rested my cup on my left knee while my phone was on my other knee. As I wrapped up the night I opened my email. I saw that a note was sent from my dad. My co-op box had arrived.

I woke up to my pre-alarm alarm cackling an annoying animal sound. I had been known to sleep like a ferret. The first alarms were my way of pulling me out of the dead sleep and prepare me for the actual wake up alarms. Maggie was well underway and buzzing around like a pollinating bee, flower to flower. I hobbled up the stairs trying to shake off the stiffness and prepared myself a strong to-go coffee. The cup drop got Maggie’s attention and she bellowed down the hallway from whatever room that she was in, “Are you coming home tonight Jake?” Sarcasm pursed my lips but I answered with “Yes, Maggie… I have an errand to run after work but…” Just like that, she disappeared. I grabbed the finished coffee and went to the bedroom to get ready for the day. I needed a shower to wash off the drink and tingling from my molded couch body.

I picked an activewear shirt, my favorite jeans, and the first under-items that the dispenser displayed. Maggie awakened much earlier than I had and been finished with the bedroom and bathroom. I loaded my normal settings and proceeded to rinse off. The smell of tea-tree oils cleared my nasal cavities and I grew a rejuvenated feeling deep within. That feel was stifled as I heard the door swing open and felt a draft whoosh the humidity out and cold breeze in. “I need you to try Jake. All I do is try for you.” She said. Confusion rushed over me and I could only replay memories that contradicted everything that she said. “Ok, Maggie…” I said in a sorrowful pity. Then, like a thief in the night, she was gone. I continued to beat myself up for the balance of the shower. I stood in the water downpour like a drowning rat and lethargy kept me from swimming. After I heard the house door slam shut, I shut the shower off and succumbed to the day starting, I reached into the fridge and took a small shot of Southern Comfort.

I force focused only on actual work all day at the office to escape the depression and guilt that had crept in. I was distant and withdrawn at each meeting. I focused on taking notes and capturing everything that was going on. That was not my first slip into those feelings but it has been a few years. As soon as my last meeting was over, I strapped on my PPE and slinked to my car. I shook and rolled my head around taking deep breaths before I got settled into the cabin. “Alexa, Dad’s – country route,” I stated. “Short or long route, Jake?” She asked. I needed a long way this time. The car secured me and I turned on music for driving. It was a sad/angry mix that I had procured, cherry-picking the best songs from my favorite artists.

I pulled into my Dad’s and was hoping to see him this time. Being around my father, felt comforting to me, safe, even over a distance, but he was not home so I texted him to see where he was and if I could get the crate. My phone rang and I picked up through the car audio system. (cough cough) “Jake?” He asked as I answered with a somber hello. “Je’ sus Jake – can you act any happier?” He pried. 
“Hey, Dad. Sorry – got a lot going on,” I replied, trying to convince both of us. “Where are you at anyway?”
“Not feeling well Jake-ster. I am get ‘n old. Nothing major – just need to rotate the old tires and maybe a tune-up on the ol’ body.” He joked back at me.
“Okay Dad,” I said to acknowledge his sarcasm. “Where can I grab the co-op from?”
“Just scan your finger and you can get in, it is right inside of the door.” He shared. I thanked him and apologized for the trouble which he, in turn, assured me that it was not. I opened the door and walked in to see the counter filled with prescription bottles and notes. The crate was right inside of the door like he said. I walked to the counter and saw Fentanyl as well as Iressa bottles stacked on a note which read “Onology appt?” I performed a quick search and both medications were NSCLC, or non-small-cell-lung-cancer, medications. Horror spiked through my body and I lost my breath. I urgently called my Dad back but he didn’t answer. I marked a text urgent “What – cancer?!?!” I replied. He replied, “At Dr., I am OK Jake, I will update you when I know more. Now stop…” His words were dismissive but my dad was always a straight shooter so, I took a moment to collect myself and left.

On the long drive back home I tried to not worry about my dad. I needed to see him more, I thought. I can help him, I convinced myself as if he was already terminal. I was shaken and cranked the music to get the emotion out before I made it back to the house. I pulled myself together and the adrenaline was carrying me by that point. I arrived home and felt very numb. So many things were stirring in my mind and I need some help to sort them all out. I knew Maggie would still be angry – but that she would be able to listen. She always gave sound advice. I could not fault her for that. As I entered the door I sat the crate beside the table. “Jake – what is that?” I heard from afar. I looked for her to make eye contact.

Before I could say anything she realized that I had been to my dad’s. As I scanned the room I noticed the journals and my notes were open on the table. She had been reading the material. Feelings of violation and hurt raced through my body. Before I could answer she lit into me. She went off about the citation, me being distant, me sneaking around, not trying, and how she was not happy anymore. It was a rant and monologue that I was unable to appeal. Before I could respond, the words stabbed me through the heart. “I am done with you.” She coldly stated. Anger raged in my body and I said the only thing that came to mind. Self-defense and preservation escaped my mouth. “I cannot believe you, Maggie. You haven’t let me near enough to…” I stopped myself. “This was such a lie.”

Without a plan and on short notice, I made a couple of trips to the office, Maggie’s, and ended up with a car full of things at Samuels. I was not able to think through everything until I got to 116 and unload the car. I called into work for Wednesday and laid back on the couch. I did not know where to begin at that moment. I finished the bottle of Southern Comfort and fell asleep.

Read more of the Devastation Series.

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creative writing: devastation. the life after (part 9)

Continued from part 8 of the Devastation Series.

That evening was almost harmonious until it wasn’t for me. Maggie and I enjoyed a healthy conversation and debated like we used to. You would have not known that we were angry and ignoring each other a half day ago. We had the illusion of being connected for the first time in a long time. It did not feel like we were talking at each other. Even with that though, my mind would not let things go. Dinner wrapped up and we cleared our plates. I tended to the dishes and she scooped a portion of watergate salad from the bowl she had caught it in. We took our small salads and moved to the living room. The still of the night had settled into the house.

We sat beside each other on the couch taking bites of our fruit salad. She picked up the remote and the projectors synchronized. The layered images danced on the video platform while my mind went elsewhere. As the first scenes started to appear, a scent of fresh grass spritzed in the air. The full immersion of the entertainment brought us to the grass being mowed in the show. However, I was fixated on my surroundings. I had a critical eye and was noticing everything around me. I looked around our home and imagined what Samuel would have lived in. Not in the apartment, I had a decent understanding of that. What was the day to day like, I wondered? Everything around us was synchronized for the show, like a symphony, for the full experience. Instead of appreciating it I noticed Maggie on her phone. She was shopping again.

I squinted from the new light. The sun crested the horizon and snaked up my body. I instinctively stretched and got out of bed as the animals alerted the world of the new day. I slid my coveralls on with the straps dangling by my sides and walked to the kitchen. I turned on the kettle then I poured beans into a small grinder. I set up the pour-over. Once the water boiled on the stovetop, I poured it over the mound of grounds, held in by a small paper filter. I remembered my modern kitchen and then I realized that I did not miss the automatic coffee maker. The richly flavored beans were much better when slowly prepared. I sipped from the steaming small cup and looked out of the window by the kitchen. The trees fenced the sun off and their shadowy silhouettes were blackened. I reached down and pulled my overall straps over my shoulders, one at a time. I could see the neighboring houses stirring with life as well. Valerie? Valerie walked out of her cabin across from me. “Hey babe?” I called into the bedroom. I walked back to the bedroom and looked at the bunched blankets, tangled from a night’s sleep. The bed was empty and Maggie didn’t exist here.

I was caught off guard, in the comfortable strangeness. I shook the feelings away and passed through the short hallways. I pushed the screendoor open. A crisp breeze pulled into my face and a white cloud appeared with my breath. “Morning Jake!” A fresh voice called to me. I stammered slightly and managed to bellow, “Morning Val.” Val? I stopped myself. I did not know her, everything suddenly felt unfamiliar. My procedural memory shut the screen door. I walked over to the shed beside the cabin-esk home that resembled a very weathered smaller log cabin. I reached inside the door and grabbed a tin bucket filled with mixed grains. I turned and headed to the open yard where the chickens were congregating. The roosters crowed and hens cackled at the sight of the tin bucket. I scattered seed over the group of birds and watched them peck away at the ground. Their beaks tapping like sending morse code with woodpecker like eating. Val walked towards me and stood at the fence line.

“I see you got out of bed sleepy head.” She tossed some sassy sarcasm my way. What am I doing, I wondered, still confused by the situation? “Yeah I guess so,” I conjured up. She rested her crossed arms on the wooden fence. Tiny clouds puffed from her mouth; I could feel the cold tingle on my nose. She started the conversation.”Do you have a few chickens ready for the Ed and Regina? I just harvested the last of the new crop of vegetables.”
“Sure, I, I, think so anyway…” I caught myself instinctively answering. I was very confused.
“You ok Jake? You seem out of it.” She looked at me inquisitively. I was not sure. All of my efforts were just trying to figure out what was going on. Where am I? I deduced that it was early in the crop season and that we were preparing things for some people. But where was I, I continued to wonder, I couldn’t get past it. “Well I will leave you to it – maybe go get another coffee? I have to get back to the cows – jus’ wanted to say morn’n.” She smiled wide and turned to head over to a rustic barn on the other side of the fence. “Coffee sounds like a good idea…” I stated. I walked to the fence and touched it. The split rails damp from a light dew. The weathered wood was so authentic, I thought. I gently ran my fingertips over the bark, as if I was reading brail. I turned and started to walk back towards the cabin-like home. The home that I came out of appeared to be like the one Valerie came from. The grass was wildly tall in spots and bare in others as if eaten by animals. I stood tall and took a panoramic view of the area.

There was a tilled dirt patch along the fence line closest to the house. The tiller was still partially embedded inside of the fresh dirt. In the far distance, was a small pond with geese waddling at its banks. A duck swam in the middle of the water, the water ripples could vaguely be made out in the distance. The dawn hid some details but the horizon bled sunlight through like tiny spotlights, growing in number and size. Like a zombie, I shuffled forward looking over the land. Neighbors came out of their cabins, one by one. Each family member seemed to step outside to feel the crisp weather, gaze about, wave at me with an occasional greeting, and step back inside.

The smells of grass and hay trailed past my runny nose. As I sniffled I could make out distinctly different smells. The dew-covered grass. The farm smell of cattle, not overwhelming, well kept, if that was possible. The longer I listened the more animals that I heard. Geese honked overhead and by the pond. The birds were in and out of the water, fishing, and wagging their waddling behinds to remove the water. I surveyed the property, still trying to figure out what I was doing there. A farm cat brushed up against my leg, arching its back and circling my ankles. I reached down to pet the animal and felt intense pains shooting through my neck muscles. I cupped my hands on the back of my neck resting them on my shoulders. Walking through the sudden throbbing, I was enamored with the peacefulness of the surroundings. Everything seemed to function in unison. As I walked around the corner of the house, a sign became visible from a road: “Produced – Community Co-op.” The pain continued to increase and needles felt like they were shooting below my back.

I gasped abruptly and my eyes widened. I looked around and saw the projector lights in energy saver mode. The lights were dimmed and the room empty. I had been going full steam ahead and the mental strain was wearing on me. It was not uncommon for me to doze off – but I realized that I had been sleeping more, recently. Maggie had gone to bed. I wished that she would have nudged me awake so that we could have ended the night together. The odds were that she would be upset that I fell asleep. It was common for an argument to ensue the next morning when I fell asleep during a movie. My intention was not to fall asleep, but that did not matter. I rubbed my eyes and noticed the clock: 2 AM.

I had come back to reality but was still taken back by that dream. The realism of the dream and emotion that I felt… There was a sense of purpose inside of me in that dream. I felt a sense of belonging. I thought it strange since it was a dream and a completely fictitious scenario. I have had thousands of dreams in my lifetime, I supposed, but that one had been the most vivid. If it was possible, I would have gone back to sleep to relive those few moments. It was a different life; foreign to me for now. I was inspired although I didn’t have a plan. So I began to wing it; moment-by-moment. Shaking off the sleep, I walked to the kitchen. “Alexa, coffee, a to-go cup, strong – turbo shots.” The beans ground, cup dropped and I had a spontaneousness inside of me. Maybe it was passion, or curiosity, or confusion… I was not clear on that but knew sleep was not happening and I felt good. I grabbed the coffee, sipped it, and walked out the door.

The car door unlocked, opened and I got in. “Alexa, recent places…” The navigation screen appeared with an index of the recent addresses. “I am coming for you 116,” I mumbled. “Alexa, option 4.” I was going to grab more journals and learn more about Samuel. I wanted to know what happened next. I also was hoping that I would learn more about the lifestyle that he was pursuing. Deep down, I think that was more of a driver than I gave it credit for. I took a large gulp of coffee and selected driving music. The car performed its checks, backed up, and started the course. The midnight sky was clear and the moon was visible in the horizon. The pink super moon illuminated the concrete as the yellow stripes strobed the reflection of the headlights. I lowered the windows and stuck my head outside like a dog would in a silly gif. I closed my eyes and let the air blast over my face. The sound of the air was delightfully deafening. I could only hear the rubber spinning… with a humming vibration as I tallied up miles… I felt almost weightless floating in the breeze. Nothing else mattered. After a chill passed over me, I got back into the cabin, rolled up the window, and took a swig of my hot breakfast blend.

I grabbed a tissue from the console and wiped my nose. After several minutes of nursing my chill, I pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex. The barren lot was not very well lit which did raise my alert to my surroundings. Other than my immediate safety the only thing that I could think about was how free I felt. I was not sure exactly what it was that I was free from – but the feeling existed regardless. I felt in my pocket to ensure that I had the keys and walked inside of the building. I unlocked the main door and locked it back behind me. The lighting was low and had an eerie atmosphere. The sort of feeling that you would expect to have before you would die in a horror movie. I was slightly startled by creeks of wood while I walked down the corridor.

I found the key right away and opened the door. It made a loud shriek as it swung inside. I used my hand and smacked the wall repeatedly feeling for the switch. I popped the switch and the lights flickered as the balas warmed up. The lights over the kitchen illuminated the rest of the small apartment and long shadows appeared from the apartment fixtures. I shut the door behind me and the bang echoed. The windows rattled and the musty stale air whirled around me. I looked around the apartment and saw the journals. I noticed some files sitting, that I had not paid any attention to when I was last there. Inside the bookshelf there was also a small library of hardback books that I had also missed. I walked over to the shelf and got down on my hands and knees and read the titles.

There was a US geography book, discussing the state’s resources. There were a couple of books about traveling. The last two books were very worn. The titles were unreadable and the spines were worn from weather and apparent use. I pulled out the book and studied the generic cover. I opened the cover and the title was “Self-sustainment: Building a life of natural sustainment.” I turned the pages and saw the writing, Samuel’s writing. He had made notes as well as highlighted important concepts. Several notecards bookmarked pages as well as have questions and comments. I opened to a bookmark in the center of the book and read the card out loud. “Figure out the simplest food cycle/web. Pg. 121.” I looked down at the page, 121, and read over the subheadings on the pages. The pages discussed the life cycle of several species and the important connections when farming. His notes were going to be valuable. I also remembered my dad making the same comment in his email to me.

I spent the next hour or so reading his notes inside of the books. Each book had similar notes. The location book, like an atlas, was of particular interest to me since it highlighted a few areas with indications of where they may have gone. I was certain that I could deduce their location between the journals as well as the index cards in the books. I used my phone to take some notes of my own as I flipped through the pages. Notes about techniques that were used, locations referenced, and facts about Samuel that came across. As I moved through the pages and sections I was also learning different ways to make a living. A new paradigm was being painted for me as I turned page after page with note after note and question after question – all with answers. Answers that were much bigger than the notecards.

I stretched my neck side to side and looked out the window. The crimson colors bled through the city buildings. The sun was a while away but it was bright enough that the clear skies of the morning were certain. I looked at my phone which read the time at 4 AM. If I did not want a real shit storm, I had to be back in the apartment before Maggie awoke. She was a creature of routine and habit – and I was way out of bounds at that moment. Not to mention, I fell asleep during the movie. I grabbed a box that was beside the bookshelf. I placed the library books inside of the box as well as the next journal installments. I also grabbed a few near the end. I was curious if there was continuity or if the writings changed in any way. I packed up everything, shut the lights off, and exited 116. I jingled the keys locking the door deadbolt and placed them back into my pocket. I carried the box awkwardly out the door of the complex.

I had been so busy living spontaneously outside of my routines that I forgot about my PPE. The drone patrolling the area quickly identified my missing gear and approached me. I continued toward my car but was stopped by the mini siren and lights. In my hurry, I also forgot about my identification. While I had proof of who I was, I did not have the cards that are supposed to be worn when a person is walking in the world. The drone hovered at my height and a small monitor flashed as an officer’s face appeared. The officer was not in any mood for discussion as I explained what I was doing out at that hour and disregarding the PPE requirements. I was able to satisfy his questions but did not get off without a citation. The area has had suspicious activity so patrols have been increased around this section of town, which I greatly appreciated – but could have appreciated without the ticket. I did have an extra basic PPE version in my glove compartment as a backup, but that was of little help at the moment. The citation was sent to the account on file, which also happened to be shared with Maggie. A knot grew in my stomach.

After the lecture from the officer about our behaviors leading to bigger things, I was allowed to walk to my car. “Alexa?” I asked, standing outside of my car. She could hear me most of the time. If my hands were not full, I could have used my phone. “How can I help you, Jake?” She inquired from inside of the car. With sarcasm, several thoughts entered my mind. Since I was within the geofence and my voice-matched, she knew it was me and waited for my response… I opened the tiny trunk of the car and slide the box inside. I closed it, opened the car, and fell into a slump in the driver’s seat. A forceful exhale rushed from my mouth and I banged my head repeatedly on the headrest as if I would pound out anything that I wished. The skyline glowed even more as the sun started its ascent. The city had started to come alive as the new day began for the rest of the world. My “second wind” started to dwindle and I realized I left my coffee inside the building. I was not going back after all of that.

“Alexa – order coffee, drive-thru, nearby…” I stated. The navigation menu, showed the progress and Alexa confirmed with a question, “Do you wish to drive there now?” I acknowledged the question and the car backed up and headed there immediately. I turned up the volume and started a cruising playlist. My eyes were heavy but I was too energized to head back to sleep. I contemplated what to do next and weighed the options. I imagined that heading home and sorting the thoughts out would be the best option at the time. I pulled right through the drive-up coffee place; no one was out at this time of morning on a Sunday. I sipped the steamy bitter coffee from Joe’s and tried to breathe the calmness out of me. I was able to feel the tenseness subside for a moment. Until, I felt a ping and vibrate from my phone. “Why are you not in bed?” Maggie asked. And then like a ton of bricks the weight squeezed the air out of me. “Alexa – home.” The car started the route and I realized that I dreaded the destination.

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creative writing: devastation. the life after (part 8)

Continued from part 7 of the Devastation Series.

The downstairs sprang to life as I entered the room. I looked at the bookshelves and paced around the basement studying the art hanging. I had nervous energy. I also had a lot of unfinished thoughts scrambled in my mind and I needed the time to process them. I checked the clock on the wall and it read 3 PM as my stomach started to growl. With the trip to my father’s, earlier in the day, my mind had been occupied and I forgot to grab something to eat. Since I missed a meal yesterday, my body was trying to catch up.

I walked up the stairs and found the same scene as yesterday. The end of the table was still a desk and music was playing in the kitchen. I bypassed the kitchen and walked to the bedroom. I selected a plain-white t-shirt from the dispensary and pulled it out of the slot. I pulled my collared polo off and tossed it into the used clothes bin. The white t-shirt was crisply folded and possessed a hint of lavender scent. The calming scent splashed on my face and comforted me against my noted bits of anxiety. I’ve always been amazed at how changing clothes could reshape my focus and mood. As I turned in the bedroom I caught another glimpse of myself in the standup mirror; I still did not recognize that person.

I walked into the kitchen straight at the fridge. I grabbed a tomato from the table holding the produce from my dad’s. I peeled off the company sticker and stuck it to my shirt as I studied the dark red with firm skin tomato. It had been a while since we had fresh produce in the house. The majority of groceries came in bulk and many of them in canisters for the preparation machines. I grabbed a knife and searched until I found a cutting board. I washed the tomato and placed it on the cutting board while I made a selection from the fridge. I chose a Cobb salad, minus the tomato, and grabbed a bowl for it to fall in to. Moments after the salad was prepared I was signaled to collect the salad from the prep nozzle. I sliced the tomato into thick uneven slices and plopped on the top of my bowl. Maggie sneered at me; she didn’t know that I noticed.

I carried my bowl to the opposite end of the table as Maggie. Even more, things were scattered around than yesterday. She must have been working there for several hours now. I took a fork and stirred the salad to embed the fresh thick slices. “How’s work going?” I questioned. I grew tired of the silence and tension. She looked up and was hesitant with an answer. “Still knee-deep,” dismissing me. I took a bite of the salad and savored the flavor. The juicy tomato made more of a difference than I imagined it would. A prepared salad was never bland but did lack freshness. My tongue explored every bite. Maggie did try to continue a conversation and asked, “The salad good?” I stared at my nearly empty bowl. It was either smaller than I imagined or I was hungrier. I paused and evaluated my next move. “Yeah – the fresh tomato really changed it up – a lot more than I expected anyway…” I trailed off. 
“Did you stop by the store,” she inquired, “I think that sounds good. They were out last time…”
“Dad gave it to us.” I reluctantly said, afraid to light a bomb.
“Jake…” She stopped herself. 
“Maggie…” I chirped back. I did not want to argue but was tired of walking on eggshells. I had walked my thoughts back and forth and honestly could not see how I was in the wrong. I rarely yelled. I tried to keep an open mind and empathize with her views – even when I disagreed. Especially then. “You should be careful – it’s very easy to get E.Coli.” She said being passive-aggressive, not attempting to hide it. My heart raced, and I bit my tongue so I would not say anything that I regretted. I was simmering. “Tell me how you really feel Maggie. I went to my dad’s. You went to your sister’s. You have been angry – for God know what reason – since I got an email from him.” I managed to get out without changing much of a tone, but I emphasize a few words in my struggle.
“Jake… what do you expect me to say? Your crazy dad comes into your life when it’s convenient and I get to see you fall apart.” She replied in a neutral tone.
“You are right. It does impact me. It does. But have you considered walking along with me vs. bashing or propping up walls?” My voice raised an octave as I posed the question. I understood her points of view – and that she said she cares – but I felt alone most of the time with my struggles. I finished the final bite of salad and slid the bowl to the side. “Maybe I will die from some disease now.” I fired her implication back to her. I was boiling over and struggled to keep calm. 
“This isn’t working for me anymore Jake.” She spat out not even looking up.
“What does that mean Maggie?” I exhaled.
“I don’t know Jake. I don’t know… I need you to try harder,” she shared in an assertive tone.
“Me… ME? TRY? Harder…” My elevated voice stammered. I was in disbelief. It felt like she punched me in the gut then asked me for a bandaid. I immediately got up from the table and floated over to the dishwasher. I looked like a ghost in a classic horror film, in more ways than one. I was overcompensating and I knew it – but did not feel I would have a grasp on myself otherwise. I dropped the quick-door open for the dishwasher and fed my dishes in. It looked like what I imagined a DVD did going into a player. I sauntered to the bedroom and grabbed my vaping device. I pulled it from the charger, pressed it against the refill slot, and selected the strongest infused juice. It was not a habit that I was attached to – but would be an attempt at normalizing my ramped up body. “Jake…” she called to me. I reappeared into the hallway and our eyes locked. I visually bit my lips and returned to the basement. I had nothing else to say to her at that moment.

I felt like I had a lot of things to figure out. All of the emotions from the last couple of days were cresting and burning in several senses. I stomped around the downstairs and turned on an angry rock mix. The mix contained several songs that both fed my anger and allowed me to work through things at the same time. I grabbed my desk chair and slid into it. I took a long drag and puffed a large vapor cloud into the air. The nicotine and CBD mixture started to instantly soothe me. I rubbed my eyes and yawned from the side effects. I followed up by laying my chin in the palm of my hand, which balanced my head from my elbow. I slipped my phone into the Linx and scooted it into view adjusting the monitor angle. The dragon’s blood at the desk was calming.

I started to weigh my relationships and compare my so-called-life with others. I could not rationally and objectively think about Maggie so I meandered in other thoughts. Some… bigger thoughts. The blaze may have been in front of me this time, but the smoldering had been going on for far too long… I wondered what it was that I had done or was doing with my life? I seemed to have been lost in translation, to me. I decided to replay the last several weeks, even before 116 entered my life. I got into my desk drawer and pulled out one of my breakthru meds to calm my nerves; I had to do something. I got up from my slouch and went back to my bed from last night. I switched the room mood to a more relaxing playlist and adjusted the lights. I needed to reset. I needed to think.

As the medicine started to loosen up my muscles, I took a large draw of vapor. My body sensation matched my mental space – heavy. I do not know when it began but I realized that I had started losing interest in meaningful things. The flood of sensations started to bleed in. The news felt like a barrage of arrows. Between the negativity and tech advertisements I was overloaded. I longed for a relationship with my father; I said it out loud to myself. The day with him was nice – we were able to rekindle a select group of memories. In reflection, I regretted selling the great life speech and even more so now that I know he saw past my front. When was the last time a pandemic broke out? Is that because of our measures or have we been living this way because no one remembers how to go back? What was it intrigued me about Samuel? It could not be the cold-case factor now, since I had all but confirmed that they existed beyond the apartment. A tomato made a highlight in my day. Or was that just a symbol? Damn questions plagued my mind. I returned to slouching into the couch. I yawned and gave in to my body’s direction. My droopy eyes fell closed.

I woke up after a short nap. I did not have answers but felt like I had more clarity. I had more energy to power on. I got up and sat back down at the Linx. I caught a glimpse of the sticker on my shirt and pulled it off. I opened a browser and researched the Co-op my father used. There was a lot of information about this community. It was about 100 acres of combined land with multipurpose uses. The membership could be paid for outright, or shares could be purchased for a different duration. The website also indicated that they had open units; the community was also a village. I entertained the thought for a few moments, then succumbed to my current reality. I was happy, I thought. I needed to make amends with Maggie. I needed to find my reset and had to restart… somewhere.

I went back upstairs and sat down at the table and laid all of my thoughts and emotions out for discussion. Maggie and I argued at first but we were able to reframe and recenter the conversation to be symbiotic. We were similar in some manner. We were comfortable and neither of us wanted to disturb that. I convinced myself that the sensitivity that I felt to the conversation impacted my ability to reason. And while I was questioned my motives – merely coexisting was not a desire of mine. We closed the conversation and the tension diminished. The awkwardness was still present – but we were talking about it at least. Afterward, we made up and reconnected in the bedroom. I rinsed off in the shower and grabbed another cup up coffee before heading back downstairs.

I attached my phone to the computer and looked at the open co-op page. I thought of the fresh taste of produce and signed up for a sample box which took about a week to get. I was intrigued to learn more about this process, but wanted more of that fresh taste, for now. I set the delivery address to my dad’s and sent him a quick email explaining that he convinced me and to let me know when it arrived. I looked over to the notebook pushed off to the side and made a curious connection with Produced and Samuel. I went back to my browser and searched for “starting a co-op.” I also searched “self-sustainment.” I spent the next couple of hours researching the fundamentals of establishing the system. After I felt that I grasped the basics, which seemed like a lot of work, I went back to the journals and started to read. I ended up going through all of the journals that night as the hours sped by.

Line by line Samuel designed another world. He painted a picture of the world as he saw it and detailed the changes. The journals that I had with me detailed the onset. It told the story of a person figuring out what life after this pandemic would be like. It described his desire for a different place – with a different outcome. He saw the things put in place as barriers to humanity and I think that he wanted to get that back. I felt a connection with him. There was something about how I felt and the way he expressed his thoughts. I also started to see similarities in what he expressed and the life that my father was leading. My fascination continued to grow and I was not sure what that meant yet. An email banner came across the screen. It was work reaching out.

I opened the email and started to read it. My team needed an answer to the apartments surveyed. I had not completed the report; I had lost track with my excitement. Between my dad’s, exploring Samuel’s world, arguing with Maggie, and finding myself, I missed sending the report after the survey. I wondered if I still had time to finish working through the materials at the apartment which I had planned to do the following week. I would need to hurry up though, the group is preparing to rent out the units and I was holding up their process. They would have inventoried the apartment and recycled the content. I had watched that happen numerous times. So, I hit reply-all and assured the group – that all of the units were ready – which they were – besides 116. I wanted to make another pass through that room – to understand what these big plans were. I felt as if I was being freed for some reason and I did not understand it. I wanted to.

Maggie and I had dinner together that night. I was to prepare the entree and sides while she prepared the appetizer and desserts. We both liked to cook and I was in a creationist sort of mood. I got all of the materials out and placed butter inside of a warming skillet. “What are you doing, Jake?” Maggie inquired, as she pressed a sequence and captured what the fridge prepared. “I am cooking,” I said confidently. 

“We have a processor for that,” she countered, “do you even know what you’re doing?” I raised an eyebrow and continued to prepare. I opened the fridge and pulled two chicken breasts from the preparation container. I grabbed a rub that I had purchased a while back and coated the chicken. “I think I will be just fine.” The butter started to melt and I placed the chicken into the pan. The smell of butter sizzling in the pan made a savory smell in the kitchen. The garlic herb seasons whiffed past my nose as the steam rushed from the pan. The butter danced along the sides of the pan making a loud hissing sound. I pulled the tongs from the drawer and rinsed the dust off of them. I grabbed one of the breasts and flipped it to the uncooked side searing the other side. I did the same for the second breast. I waited a moment, put the lid over the skillet, and lowered the temp. I grabbed another skilled and prepared it the same way. I placed butter into the pan and turned the burner on. 

“What has gotten into you?” Maggie asked, with some impatience. I was not sure how to answer her. A lot of thoughts streamed through my mind. “I just wanted to do something, myself.” I placed a couple of potatoes into the microwave, then pulled them back out to poke several holes into them with a fork. With my inexperience, I had almost forgotten. “Alexa, microwave two large potatoes,” I instructed, and it started. I grabbed a frozen bag of green-beans not yet in the dispenser and opened the bag, I shook some into the sizzling skillet and then put the rest back into their container. I turned the green-bean skillet down to medium heat and sprinkled some garlic over the skillet. I was proud of myself. I felt like a conductor at a symphony with aromas as the musical notes.

I did not have a lot of experience cooking, baking, frying anything. I spent some time earlier in the day researching how to make the meal. I was not a master chef and did get some of the timing off, but the meal turned out much better than I expected. And other than impatience, Maggie was pleasantly surprised. The artwork did not hang like most artwork. It was nourishment. The tender slices of chicken and buttery baked potatoes paired well with the garlic-seasoned green beans. I knew that the meal was a symbol. I knew that I would raise eyebrows veering off the beaten path. I figured out how to do something that I had not done. I created something, and it was good. The meal was exactly what I needed. It was also the last meal that I remembered my mom making. Dad would be proud.

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creative writing: devastation. the life after (part 7)

Continued from part 6 of the Devastation Series.

The words trailed off as my vision blurred…

I jolted forward as my head rolled to the side. A small string of saliva rolled down my chin. I used my arm as a napkin and looked up to the clock on the wall, which read 03:00 AM. With a throbbing pain behind my eyes, I walked up the stairs to a still house. Night lighting activated as I walked through the house, showing me the way. I stuck my head into the bedroom and saw that the bed was still empty. Groggy and squinting from the shooting pain, I walked into the bathroom to get something for my head. I selected an acetaminophen cocktail from the OTC-Lite, a small medicine dispenser, which contained almost anything over the counter that you would need. It dispensed and I slurped it from the small shot-like cup. I wondered where Maggie could be, but I was still too out of it to panic or express much concern.

I did not want to be upstairs. Maybe it was the alcohol talking or the lingering tension from the argument earlier. Food crossed my mind, but my stomach was turning from rapid drinking. I stumbled through the house back down the stairs, and relied on the handrail to get down. I stopped by the desk and ejected my phone from the Linx while I set the room to relaxation mode. The notebook was open to an entry but I was in no shape to read it at that moment. As I replayed what I could remember of my day, I scooted over to the couch. I pulled the phone out of my pocket and sat down. I maneuvered through the apps and opened our locations app. Maggie was at her sister’s, which meant that she was probably expressing how she felt about things. While I liked her sister, their relationship is full of storytelling and victimizing. I can imagine that I have put her through so much; I could hear the words falling out. I bit my tongue and switched to text. I replied to my last message to Maggie with, “I am sorry that you’re upset with me. Be safe.” and closed the app.

My mind – free of most normal confines started to think of life as I knew it. I laid back on the couch, accepting my bed for the night. Typical drunk thoughts streamed through my mind, but I soon became hung up on my meaning of life. With the argument, the contact from my father, this tenant, and memories of my mother, I was stuck in a cycle of reflection. Everything seemed to be in extremes in my life. All or nothing, as it were… Maggie was pro-tech and could not pass up the next new thing. My father was against everything that substituted what a person could do for himself or herself. Where did I fit into this equation? Am I happy… really happy? I felt like I was ping-ponging my way through life. A chameleon in my environment that successfully navigated without being seen. Thoughts of imposter syndrome were not foreign to me but were enhanced under my current condition. What was it that I was missing? I felt like work was going well and aside from this case… Case… The thought sent my brain in a frenzy. My job was to check out the apartment and prepare it for renting that was it. I have made it so much more this time. What was it about this case that intrigued me? I imagined what the world would have been like before the “Devastation” which led me back to thinking about my father. I closed my eyes and explored my thoughts.

 ***

I looked at the clock and it was 8 AM. The initial “did I sleep in” panic stirred me and then I remembered it was Saturday. I laid my head back on the couch pillow. I rubbed my eyes and held my head which ached from last night’s choices. My stomach ached from being empty so I sat up slowly and swiveled around on the couch. I replayed the evening and early morning thoughts back and stopped while wondering what I am really doing? Is Maggie home? I slowly stood up and staggered up the stairs. Slightly hungover and still waking, I headed towards the fridge.

I chuckled to myself, remembering the thoughts of what it would be like… before. I wouldn’t have had this modern kitchen, I answered my question. “Alexa brew coffee, strong, to-go cup.” Across the kitchen, a cup dropped and the beans started to be ground. “Alexa, prepare the oven, making an egg,” the command illuminated the stove and a click as it turned on. I grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and found the beaten egg from the menu on the fridge. I held the bowl underneath the spout and pressed the button sequence for two scrambled eggs. The fridge automated and the sound of two shells cracking and being whipped together added life to the kitchen. The coffee started to pour while the yellow mixture streamed out of the prepared food nozzle. I grabbed a pan from the hanging wall shelf and poured the mixture in setting the skillet on the stove. “Alexa, two toasts, thick, cooked medium,” several clicks echoed in the kitchen as the two pieces of bread were sheared off to my liking. The smell of yeast as the toast baked accented the kitchen air.

I finished breakfast and my first cup of coffee. I could be a real caveman before the first cup. I grabbed another then walked to the bedroom. I selected the first casual clothes set shown on the menu from the dispensary. It prepared and I took the folded set into the shower room. I chose a massaging high temp shower setting and then disrobed before entering the stall. “Alexa, morning summary.” The news headlines and weather showed in the LCD wall across from me. I was trying to find one that interested me to have it read out loud. The shower transitioned from rinse to soap and I chose a headline while closing my eyes during the application. The article played and a beep signified that the rinse phase had started. Standing in the shower, I decided that I would go see my dad after getting ready. For once, maybe I could be spontaneous and surprise him. “Jake, are you ready to exit the shower?” Alexa asked as the cycle finished. I was. The water slowed to a trickle, then off. The air began to intensely blow from all angles and removed the majority of water from my body. I stepped out and got dressed. I caught a look of myself in the mirror and froze. “Who are you?” I stared into the distance of the mirror. The aged lines… the receded hair… the lazily shaved face… I grabbed more acetaminophen, took it, and walked out.

I gathered my Linx and tossed journal “W0-08” into my messenger bag. After I finished switching bags, I headed down the hall towards the door. I stopped at the counter and grabbed a sticky note and then stopped myself, putting it back, I realized that I did nothing wrong. Walked through the house door and squinted adjusting my sobering eyes to the daylight. Even with overcast, the outside light intensity could be felt in between medicine relief. I opened the car and got into the driver’s seat. “Alexa… we’re going to Dad’s.” With nonjudgemental actions, the car finished startup diagnostics, secured me, backed out of the driveway, and started the course. I panned through the audio options. The Bluetooth automatically connected and I realized the micro-recorder was still in the car hiding in the floorboard. “It must have fallen when the journals did…” I muttered to myself. I placed it in the console storage as the raspy voice began to surround me. 

The audio automatically replayed the last few seconds when it resumed. “I am going to wrap up here… (pause/exhale) There has to be another world out there. A world where we are going down a different path than we are currently going down. (clears throat) One where people rely on each other and regardless of your lot in life – you have a voice in that grind.” I looked out of the windows and watched life on the country road speed by. I enjoyed the scenery but paid close attention to the story. “Every infection came – and went. People did get sick and people did die. That will never change. We started using tech well beyond its original intent. We lost the human element along with our natural way. It feels like everything is automated now or requires some check, scan, or input to use it.

The world is bland. Brown boxes vs. a labeled on products. Removed. Drones vs. officers. It is the people that we miss the most. We take shortcuts. One day – cars will drive. People will not know how – the rules of the road… When I was a kid it was the calculator. Teach people to use the calculator – not how do actually solve the problem. We depend on tech for, what feels like, everything. We have taught our kids to press buttons and satisfy machines… not what is actually happening. Not how to do… whatever… This world is changing and the AI is driving it. The machines will break and we will wait for another machine… (deep inhale/exhale)

Like everything else, we will forgo the skill for convenience. I say all of this… all of this… in hopes that one day this will be looked back on. This message will be heard… We will remember people. How to… (pause) Until that time, I am finished here. We are leaving for our new world where we can add humanity back in. (long pause) I wish you the best, friend. We are off…” Sounds of a chair scooting and movement could be heard. The audio continued streaming but the voices were indirect and came across choppy. As the door opened in the recording, the voices echoed into the hallway. “It’s a long way to…” the door creaking layered over the next words. “We have enough food and gas…” could be made out before the door slammed shut. I rewound the audio and listened over and over again. The door creek overshadowed the voices. I gazed outside at the trees passing by; I was still a few minutes out.

I became frustrated as I looped through the audio at full volume. Samuel was doing something big – and it was right there in front of me, but I could not make it out. Realizing that I was not going to figure it out, I exhaled and spew a long list of profanity. Irritable from my headache, I realized the cold case had more info. They did not want to be found; they wanted to start over. I felt the context of the audio, along with the journal entries pointed to that. As my headache waned, the excitement started to flow through me again. I realized the tenant story went even deeper. “Where are you… Samuel?” I asked into the cabin. “Alexa, play ultra-rock remix.” The next song started like a movie intro and brought my motivation back for the next several minutes. The car slowed to a stop, analyzed, and turned onto my Dad’s country road.

The plains were empty fields awaiting their crop. Many of the farmers in the area had started preparing their equipment. Drones were flying and scouting the properties and farmers were calibrating their tractors. Dad’s farmette was only 10 acres, but it was a lot to manage by yourself. He had met several life partner candidates but they usually veer off the course at some point. He, not wanting to marry again, had not made it easy… on anyone. His goal all along was to become self-reliant, in every facet a person could imagine and few cared to be a part of that long journey. I think by doing all of this he worked away his sorrow, anger, and depression on that farm. I just wish I knew more about it.

As I rounded the corner to his property, I noticed a mid-00’s Honda SUV was parked behind his late 20’s truck. I switched the auto to manual pulled off of the driveway into a worn patch of grass. My father was outside by the small barn that he built. A young woman walked out of the doorway as I grabbed my bag getting out of the car. I placed my PPE on, and noticed that neither of them were wearing masks. She had a pear-shaped figure and wore jeans with a tucked-in button-up blouse. She had an empty crate in one arm, resting it on her hip as she talked to Dad. She was tan, with pulled up black hair, and talked with confidence. They looked my way as I approached. “Dad,” I said soft greeting-like tone. I nodded to the young woman. “This must be your son,” she politely suggested. “That he is… that he is,” he confirmed. A huge surprised smile crested his face. I think he expected me to come, eventually… But we both knew eventually seemed to get misplaced. “Well, I’ll let you two get to it,” she smirked. Her eyes had a natural glow about them. Creases formed lines on her face, accenting his deep smile. She continued, “I should have more produce next week if you’re interested.” My father nodded and thanked her. “Thanks, Valorie, I will see you then.”

After the young woman got into her car and started to drive, the awkward silence took over. I stood staring at my dad. Months of separation stood between us as we sized each other up. Moments passed and we walked into each other with open arms hugging and unmake-able muffled words were spoken into shirts and shoulders. As we stepped back I could not resist a comment, “…keeping younger company – eh?” A small laugh escaped me. “Valorie runs a co-op, Jake, that’s all. It is called Produced.” He reassured me, then offered me a beer. Still recovering, I nodded along with the introduction but I passed on the drink and opted for sweet tea. I removed my mask. My dad was more at risk from me – than I was from him. We continued the conversation with normal pleasantries and walked inside his house. I had not visited for years and even then, I did not go inside of his home.

His house was pristine inside. As a very prideful man, he was very clean and organized. As I walked through the kitchen, I was amazed at the jars of produce that lined the pantry. We walked the humble sized home and headed to the living room. His desk was in the corner and the computer that sat on it appeared as if it didn’t belong. A small bit of tech was peppered into his living space but it was like stepping back several decades, or at least my imagination of what that would have looked like. He has security cameras, thermostats, a modest entertainment system, but nothing more sophisticated than his laptop, which was special in the fact it was marketed to people just like him. He guided me to the couch, also rustic looking, as he relaxed in a recliner. Everything in his place – could have been mine – we had such similar tastes.

The conversations wandered for some time. Each of us asking about the other person; we were catching up from large gaps in time. He talked about his home, life, how he has created a food web within his property. Dad was very honest and wore his emotions on his sleeves, but that did not stop him from any conversation. We talked about memories of mom, work, and what we were doing with life. I felt beside myself as I talked about how great life was. It was as if I jumped out of my body and watched a perfectly rehearsed press release happen. I felt like I could do many things, but lie or shade the truth from my father, was not one of them. It was obvious from his mannerisms that he knew there was more to the story. That did not stop our conversation though. I could see the age setting in on my father. The gray had turned to white and the wrinkles multiplied and were drawn with dark lines. He coughed, and had to catch his breath a couple of times – his health was declining faster than I imagined.

We carried the conversation for a couple of hours until I became uncomfortable. My busy life was catching up to me and I felt like I needed to be doing something. I did not have time to sit. Sensing my jitters, he explained that he had an appointment that he had and had to be going for now. We exchanged some finishing conversations and we both stood to start an exit routine. As we walked through the house, he went into the pantry and came back with a couple of jars of salsa. He also had a handful of fresh produce and handed all of it to me. The label on the produce said “Produced,” and had an address. The salsa was made by him and I looked forward to enjoying the richness.

As we walked outside and towards my vehicle, he placed his hand on my shoulder. “You do not have to figure it all out, Jake.” He said in a fatherlike tone. “You will when the time is right.” My dad did not know everything that I was dealing with, but even at a distance, he got me. Dazed by his comment, I nodded and waved as I got into the car. The car did its thing and I called out the destination. I got back on to the driveway, exiting the property, and drove back to my normal everyday life. The confusion was woven into my face and a heaviness settled in my heart. I started playing music and got lost in my thoughts on the country road. I realized midway home that there was a good chance Maggie was home. I would have to deal with that. I was not sure why but great sadness and dread filled my body and I sat quietly gazing at the beauty.

I pulled in and saw that Maggie was home. Storm clouds seemed ominous in the distant horizon. The sun peaked through the remaining sky as I exited the car. I carried my bags and the produce inside and was smacked in the face with tension. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she issued as a greeting. “You never do,” I piped back as I dropped off the goods then walked straight downstairs. For the time being, we were going to lead separate lives.

Read more of the Devastation Series.

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cat-ur-day.

In April of last year, I went to the Lawrence Human Society. We had found a cat, “Leo,” from their website and decided to go take a look. I walked out with an orange and white medium-short-haired fur-baby. It is one of the best decisions that I have ever made. I have had many cats throughout my life. Almost all of them ended for one reason or another with a rehoming. A lot of time it was moving or that I was immature in that aspect of my care. While most were litter trained, I was not in a place where accidents or litter messy boded well and lacked the patience to retrain as necessary. This time has been much different. Kazho (cause-yo), Potawatomi for cat, is much more like a life partner.

While I looked for work, became depressed – he was there. When I moved from St. Joseph, MO to Lawrence, KS, he was there. When I spent endless hours gaming to pass the time, he was on my lap with me. He just seems to know when I need that little extra something – and happens to be there. Once I started working again and the apartment was empty a lot of the time, I noticed that he became somewhat depressed. Lindsay and I once again went to the Lawrence Humane Society and walked the isles for a companion for him. We left that day with a 3 mo. kitten called “Peanut.” While the bond took awhile to get right, they are now inseparable. His name changed to Sox.

Whether it is Kazho’s quirk of using his paws to drink water (much like a Raccoon), or Sox’s need to nurse my neck (yes it is as weird as it sounds), they fit right in. Kazho, a fully declawed (not my doing), chunk of sass and cuddles and Sox, a squinty scarred eye fireball, are my buddies. I get them – and them me. I would change many aspects of my life before letting anything happen to them. I am grateful for their love, cuddles, and even the shenanigans that they bring with their cat-sass-attitudes.

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