Fractured: Tales of the Canadian Post-Apocalypse(25)

Eight days after D-Day

Something’s wrong with the Internet. Whatever’s happened must be global or else Vancouver’s been cut off from the rest of the world. Ying’s some kind of engineering whiz from UBC and she’s been scouring the Net for days. Everything’s still working fine, but all that social media, you know, those YouTubes and Twitters, and Facebooks, no one’s posted anything for days. Ying says that’s bad.

What if we’re the only ones left?

Two weeks after D-Day

No matter how hard we try to figure out what’s happened, we can’t come up with anything. There’s no way to prove who’s right one way or the other. Did we miss the end of days? Did aliens just decide we weren’t worth taking? Did some crazy science experiment go wrong? It’s a great big mystery that’s way beyond me, and maybe all of us.

The pantry’s looking a bit thin now and the Snows want to prepare for the worst. They say we’ve got to focus on living. How long will the power last? How long will the phone lines stay open? How long until the sewers back up?

The Snows keep looking to me for answers. You’d laugh. I know I’m no spry young thing but I haven’t been around long enough to know how to live without electricity. I say Ying’s our best shot. She’s been printing off manuals written by a bunch of twentysomethings interested in doing things the hard way. Hipsters, she calls them? DIYers? I can’t get the jargon right. It looks like the future is the year 1900.

The kid’s got some really good ideas (You’d like her).

Tom’s an odd one. He doesn’t seem interested in anything but passing the time reading through our book collection. Mostly he reads the Bible. I suppose sometimes we need to do whatever makes life more bearable.

None of this makes any sense. Why did we get left behind? Where did you go?

I imagine you coming home and having a good laugh about it over tea, your eyes wide, the way they get when you’ve got a good joke to share. I hope you’re having an adventure, love.

Twenty-two days after D-Day

We’ve resorted to thievery! I suppose no one will blame us for trying to survive. Most of the fresh produce in the stores is starting to rot, and there are flies everywhere. Soon all the stores will be stinking and crawling with maggots.

We’ve filled up the house with supplies from the hardware store and the nearest supermarkets. There’s so much to do to become self-sufficient, and it’s all a little overwhelming. I’m not sure I can get a hang of it, but the Snows have been a great help. They’re excited about all the construction. I think they’re secretly a couple of environmentalists, which is handy. Judy Snow knows a few things about herbal remedies and growing edible plants. Bob Snow did a lot of camping and fishing in his youth. They’re both trying to teach me all this now. I wouldn’t know how to start a fire from scratch if I had to, but I suppose this old dog’s got to learn some new tricks. Matches I can manage.

You’d laugh at me, learning new things every day. I think my face may be permanently frozen into a look of puzzlement.

Ying finds me funny and started calling me Grandpa. Sweet, horrible kid. She spends most of her time trying to establish communications, glued to a computer sending out signals to anyone else who’s left, but I’d hate for her to find out we really are the only ones.

All of us give Tom a wide berth. I worry about him. He speaks only when we ask him direct questions. What a world of pain he must be living in… He won’t talk about his family or who he’s lost. He always shies away when he hears us laughing and joking, but living requires a sense of humour, doesn’t it?

I remain an eternal optimist. Ying’s bet already got crossed off the board, but my wager is still on the table, and I may just win this one.

Twenty-seven days after D-Day

Tom started spouting the Book of Revelation at us. And the sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and hell delivered up the dead which were in them: and they were judged every man according to their works. You know, all the doom and gloom parts. He’s convinced we’ve been left behind on the earth for our sins. All I know is that if this is the end of days, it really isn’t that bad. The worst part is not knowing what happened to you. I wonder and I worry more than I admit aloud.

Bob and Judy came back from one of their hardware store raids with a different sort of tool. I didn’t want to take it. I have no idea how to fire a gun. Just having the things around are trouble, if you ask me.

“Just in case, Mr. Kagawa,” Judy said.

But I took it and hid it behind the pot rack in the kitchen. I hope I’ll never have to think about it again.

Thirty-five days after D-Day

We haven’t seen any planes, or moving cars, or smoke. No one has answered any of our calls or signals. We’ve driven past the border and back again, but it’s all just the same. It looks like everyone just vanished.

Weariness hit us all hard this week. The other day I caught Ying crying. “I’m never going to get married. I have no family left. No friends.” All I could do was pass her tissues. We’re all missing people. No one suffers any less than the other. In a way, I suppose that makes it easier for me, missing you. We stay busy, and I fall asleep every night exhausted, worried about the rest more than myself. I’ve lived a long life. I’ve had you. I count my blessings instead.

Tom thinks I’m a fool and that may be so.