Devolution: A Firsthand Account of the Rainier Sasquatch Massacre(26)

And what did we all learn from that giant kerfuffle? Speed up the distribution network— instead of preparing for what happens when the network fails. Go into a grocery store, any big chain, what kind of food do you see? Canned? Pickled? Dried? Not anymore. Not like it used to be. When I was a kid, most grocery stores had a very small fresh meat/fish/produce section. Now that’s all front and center. The business model of America’s food industry is same-day delivery of farm fresh ingredients.

But what happens when the delivery trucks don’t come? What if they can’t? That’s what happened in Seattle during Rainier, that plus the power cuts. How much farm to table food spoiled in the first forty-eight hours?

And when it came to emergency supplies? FEMA doesn’t stockpile. Not anymore. Too inefficient. They contract out to the private sector, the big box stores, who don’t stockpile either because it’s too inefficient. All stock has to be turned over within twenty-four hours, and if a crisis just happens to hit at the exact moment you’re waiting for a shipment…

You can’t blame the people in Greenloop for having their cupboards bare. The whole country rests on a system that sacrifices resilience for comfort.





JOURNAL ENTRY #6 [CONT.]


Tony was filthy, covered in ash and what looked like mud from the waist down. His knees and elbows were scraped and he was missing a hiking boot. As I got out of the car to meet him, I saw a few others coming out of their houses. Carmen, Vincent, Yvette (in workout clothes with a towel around her steaming neck). He saw us all coming and waved up with a smile. He saw us just half a second after we saw him, long enough for me to notice the look on his face. Dazed, slack-jawed, staring straight ahead. Even when he saw us, the smile seemed definitely forced.

Yvette asked what had happened when she got close enough, then, as an afterthought, she remembered to hug him. Tony nodded to her, then to all of us, with that confident demeanor of his.

“Well, now I know what a ‘lahar’ looks like.” He took a sip from the water bottle on his hip and said, “I wanted to see…you know…for myself…” (I was right!) “…and yeah, I never got to the valley because the bridge…well, it’s gone…the river, mud, a lot of…stuff…debris…yeah, it’s gone…” His words kind of trailed off, like he was going to say something else. But his eyes unfocused as he took another swig.

In that pause, I noticed Yvette’s eyes sweeping across us. I’m not sure what she was looking for, what she took from our faces, and, what, our body language? But she must have seen something because even before Tony finished his drink, she kissed his cheek, rubbed his chest, and said, “But they’re still coming for us. They’re coming.” The first time was to us, the second, to Tony.

“Oh yeah,” Tony agreed, and sort of snapped back into himself, “totally. They’re on their way.”

Really? Didn’t he hear the same news reports I did? The growing chaos, the grounded aircraft. Why would he still believe that “they” were on their way? Did he believe it or was he just saying it? And why would he just say it? To convince us, or himself? And why didn’t anyone contradict him? Vincent had obviously been listening to his car radio as well, and I think I saw a look pass between him and Bobbi.

At last Carmen said something. “Did you see anyone on the other side of the bridge? A rescue team or other refugees?”

Tony responded with, “No. No.” The first “no” was to Carmen, the second was to the ground.

Did anyone else notice Yvette squeezing his arm?

I did. I clocked everything. His eyes, his words, how he kept licking his lips before and after drinking water.

I don’t think Yvette saw me, but she must have worried about his response, because she quickly jumped in. “We’re not refugees, Carmen. The term is ‘evacuee,’ which we aren’t either, remember?” That last “remember” must have come out too hard, because suddenly she gave this very noticeable sigh. “But now that you bring it up”—hand up to chest, a sudden wet blink—“we should really get ourselves ready to take care of any evacuees that happen to find us.” Her gaze went up to the woods above the house. “If someone tried to get away on foot. There might be people near us right now, wandering out there, lost and scared.”

I noticed the others nodding. I did too. Playing along, just like Mostar would have wanted. That’s why I didn’t bring up the drone crash. That’s why I stayed silent while Yvette nudged Tony into saying, “Yeah, yeah, we…uh…we need to be ready…you know, to take care of those people. Until we’re all rescued. We need to be ready. Ready…”

As they walked back to the house, he broke away from her grasp. I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I’d gotten back into my car by then. But through the rearview mirror, I watched him motion slightly for Yvette to go back in the house. She must have tried to argue because his pushing gesture quickened, along with the nods. She looked at him for a moment, then around at the neighborhood, then went back inside. I watched Tony wait till the front door closed before going to his trunk and retrieving a big, bulging hiker’s backpack. He got it halfway out, and looked like he was going to swing it up onto his back. Then he stopped. That was what really got my attention. I hesitate doing things all the time, second-guessing if I’m going to pick this up before that, realizing I should do X before Y. I do it more than most people, so I’m always hyperconscious of it. I’ve never seen Tony do that. He stopped, mid-swing, looked over at the door again, then looked all around the neighborhood, then quickly dropped the pack back in the trunk.