Week after week I lay in my own vomit. The light peaks threw
the blinds like jabs from a knifepoint into my eyes. I cover myself with my
blanket to keep them out. My phone rings and vibrates, then falls silent. Every
time it awakes, I get anxious, then fall into peace when it dies into the quiet
of my little studio apartment attached to a tiny guitar store. It’s been months since I’ve seen another
person. I got a settlement from the drunk that killed my wife and bought a
year’s worth of vodka and noodles.
It has been
92 days since I saw her last. It’s been 87 days since I last stepped outside.
Today is the day. I haven’t run out of alcohol. I’ve just run out of noodles.
At the liquor store, I bought all they had of vodka and all they had of
noodles. They are called a liquor store.
I stepped
out of the house into the small parking lot of the guitar store. The parking
lot was empty. Must be a Sunday. The shop was always closed on Sundays because
the owner liked to go to church and couldn’t afford to pay an employee. The
shop was only open when he was able to keep it open. All night though, rain or
shine, that old man would play that guitar on the other side of the wall until
I was sleeping. Sometimes, he would play the song I dance with my wife too. He
didn’t know…he couldn’t have. I would drink more, cry out the lyrics and he would
stop. I’d pass out until I heard the guitar the next day.
I walked
over to the shop entrance and opened the door…no one there… nothing moving and
no guitars. Just silence. I’ve been foggy before and today is no exception, but
something seemed wrong. I walked back out of the store into the street and
waited for a car to pass by on the busiest road in town. I waited almost an
hour before I gave up and went to my truck. I drove to the convenience store,
the liquor store, the grocery store, the women’s clothing store, and finally to
the post office. There was no one anywhere. I called 911.
“911
Emergency, please leave your name, birthdate, and emergency, and we will
respond at our very earliest convenience.” Dial tone. I visited every single
establishment over the next 2 weeks. No one stirred. No one answered their
phones. My mom never answered. My dad never answered. My sister never answered.
My friends never answered. The television was white and blue static. My radio
was squealing with guttural noise. I thought for a moment that I was dead and
this was either Heaven or Hell, depending on my current motivations to live.
Day 1.
The funny
thing is that before everyone was hiding from me, I didn’t want to see a single
one of them. Now I just want to find just one. Someone to help me sort this
whole thing out would be nice. I’ve always been a creature of curiosity, but
never one for the emotional stuff. Right now, I’d really like to know where
everyone went. More than that, I want to know why I didn’t go too.
Day 2.
I borrowed
a van from down the street. My friend uses it for camping. It has a mattress in
the back and a small gas powered generator. As long as the engine runs, the
extra batteries on the van charge. When they go dead, you can start the
generator and get another couple days of heat and power. I’m going to look for survivors or whatever
and whomever you want to call us…or just me.
Day 10.
Halfway across
the country and I haven’t found a single person. I’ve meant to write about all
I’ve seen, but I haven’t seen anything…just trees and leaves and road. For
records sake, I brought the rest of my vodka. Not that I needed it…every liquor
store is full.
Day 12.
I heard a satellite
radio broadcast! They identified as being from Long Beach California. I’m in
Oregon now: Almost 1,000 miles away from whoever is sending these broadcasts.
The broadcast played some old songs from when I was a kid. Songs from bands
like Weezer and Jimmy Eat World. I got nostalgic feelings from high school
while driving. I couldn’t get to the source fast enough. The broadcast went on
as it would have usually. There was no mention of any catastrophe. There was
just a guy playing music, speaking sometimes about when the bands would play
and where, then commercials advertising things like new windows, hand soap, and
lawyers. Most of the band’s dates had past.
Day 13.
I wanted to
drive straight through the night. I wanted to find the only radio station still
broadcasting, and compare what we knew. But there was this deer in the road. It
was the biggest deer I had ever seen, with the biggest antlers imaginable. I
thought, “This should be on someone’s mantle.” It wouldn’t move. I could have
drove around it, but the fact that it didn’t move made me wonder why. I got out
of the car and it started walking to the right, into the forest. I followed it
because I had nothing and no reason not to. It walked without any fear of me to
the stream and started drinking from it. I didn’t get it at first. I thought it
was just thirsty and I was the idiot that followed a deer panting for water.
Then I saw a small deer to the left of it. It was dead. The larger deer walked
over to it and lay down next to it. I listened to the water flow from the rocks
to the stream and realized that even without people here to see it, the world
was so beautiful and sad. I drove my van
to that spot and decided to sleep there for the night so I could listen to what
life sounds like without humans.
Day 16.
My mom told
once that if I just applied myself I could see every beauty imaginable. It’s
funny how things come back to you once they are only memories that cannot be
questioned or rebuked. But here I am, lying on a mattress in a small meadow
beneath a large mountain. Both back doors of the van have been open for hours
and I have been watching one wild animal look at me and walk away unafraid
after another. I am somehow no longer a threat to them. I am just an object in
space and time to them. They move forward and forget me moments after they see
me. I don’t need them and they certainly don’t need me. I slept to the sound of
that silence for hours…the best I’ve ever slept. No one needed me or was afraid
of me. There is something both sad and beautiful about that. I cried until I
couldn’t cry anymore, then I fell asleep in peace.
Day 18.
I’m a
couple days away from the transmission that just keeps going on like people are
still listening. I’m listening, so I guess they are doing their jobs. Maybe
hundreds are on their way there, just like me. The roads are clear. If this
were a catastrophe, the roads would be a car park. This wasn’t planned.
Everyone got gone very quickly. I stopped to take a look at the Grand Canyon
today. My mom always wanted to see it and I had promised I’d take her. It was
on the bucket list of things to do with my wife. It was so beautiful that I
lost my breath. It was bigger than I had ever imagined. My wife would have been
so scared when I looked over the edge. I guess we didn’t make it to that. She
had done something good and apparently I hadn’t and she is gone and I’m here
still. I walked right up to the lip of the canyon. I shouted into the abyss. I
told God and anyone who may be listening how I felt. I shouted, “I hate you! I
gave you everything! You gave me everything! Then You took everything from me!”
I sobbed as I shouted. I threw up and shouted more. “You are a terrible God!
You aren’t good or fair. You are death!”
I’d spent
the last bit of my life angry and wondering where my wife had gone. Why her?
She volunteered to everything. She always gave to good causes. She went to
church and believed in God just like I did. Then it drove me to one conclusion.
It wasn’t her. It was me. I am here alone because I have always chosen to be
alone. Even when she was alive, I kept myself from her… a very small part of
myself. This was a part that only I could see. She could have never really
known me; only who I was when I reacted to what life brought me. I reacted
badly to what life brought me. I always thought the worst. Then I always self
destructed and she always picked up the pieces.
Day 21.
I’ve been
searching the world for people. I haven’t found even a trace of them left. I
put my hands on stove burners and find cold medal, hoping to find evidence of
life. I stop at campgrounds looking for small fires and find nothing. It
doesn’t really matter to me anymore. I guess it never really did. No one is
there watching over anyone. I am alone.
Day 23.
I remember
this time that my friend at school had died and my mom maybe heard about it
while I was at school, or not. I came home with my 12 years old stomach in
knots turning all over. I didn’t have a word yet to describe my feeling. Later
in life, I would have the word. It would be the word “alone.” He was alone, I
felt alone, we should all feel alone. We don’t. That is what has always driven
me to drink. Even before my wife died. I drank because no one feels alone when
a 12 year old kills himself.
I remember
this while lying on a mattress in front of waterfall that washes away more land
than I’ve ever seen. I think about who I am and where I have been and I finally
realize how small I am.
With or
without humans, the world will continue as a clock would. The water will flow
until it doesn’t. The air will push to and fro until it doesn’t. Life will
begin, thrive, then die in front of maybe no one. This is the Creation of a God
I can never understand.
I smile and
turn the key and make my way to my destination. Humanity. I yearned to feel human touch and
togetherness again. I think about the nights I spent in darkness…drinking
myself into more darkness. It makes me sad. I really just want to see someone.
I want human connection.
Day 31.
I’ve
finally arrived. There is one car in the parking lot. Satellite dishes cover
the property. This is where I’m supposed to be. This is hope I have come all
this way for. I walk in the doors. They are so welcomely unlocked. I walk in and find my way into the control
room that boasts a large generator roaring and a control panel unmanned.
Unmanned…this isn’t what I was expecting. I search the place and only find that
the generator is powering reruns of a satellite show to repeat until it ran out
of fuel.
I laugh to
myself. I stop to think. Was the journey worth the ache in the heart? Yeah, I
think it was. I think I found what went wrong. I lost my vision that the world
would thrive with or without me. I would thrive with or without her. You could
lose everything you had ever known and it wouldn’t make a difference. What
remains will always be what remains.
Day 37.
I drove to
the ocean in northern California. I made a few stops to see the beauty that God
made for us or whomever would see. I’ve figured out why I am still here.
Because life is beautiful, whether or not you see it. She left because the
world is sick and she fell victim to it. She didn’t deserve it. She got sick.
She died. Then everyone left without saying goodbye. I can’t be mad. I never
said it either. I never told her goodbye. I never told her that it was ok to
go. I didn’t tell her I would be ok. Maybe I’ll be ok.
Day 40.
I got to
the coastline. I’ve seen so much. I’ve grown from a person that wanted to hide,
to someone who wants to live, even without my beautiful wife and all of these
beautiful people. I want to help people. I want to be everything I’ve never
been. I want to be human.
But here is
this wave. This enormous wave that is
heading right for me as I stand on the beach and write this. Did they know
about this wave? What caused it? It doesn’t matter. It is here and everyone is
gone and I am finally here.
I
am finally here, and now it’s time to go.
Sing.
Migrate.
Thanks for reading...Z
