The City of Five Seasons
"I guess this is the fifth season--Hell," you think to yourself, looking at a billboard proudly proclaiming Cedar Rapids as the City of Five Seasons.
You are standing on a street in what was formerly the second largest city in Iowa. You have seen no signs of life, other than Benny, so you're not sure if it still holds that distinction.
The End has not been kind to Cedar Rapids. With no one around to use them, the buildings and houses are starting to deteriorate rapidly. It has been only 10 days since God's wrath subsided, but it seems like much longer. Much, much longer. If you didn't know better, you'd think some of these buildings had been abandoned for years.
Still, things are looking up. For one thing, there's Benny. Not only is he friendly, but the little chihauhau seems to be very intelligent. He has proven himself not only a faithful companion, but a decent watch dog as well. Not at all like the yipping, annoying stereotypical Chihuahua.
The city's nearly incomprehensible directional scheme is no problem for you. Having grown up here it took only a few minutes in town to recall where SW changed to NE, and to navigate your way to any address you chose to explore.
Too bad there wasn't much worth exploring.
Today, you have examined the last two medical facilities--St. Luke's hospital, and Mercy Medical Center. They are conveniently located just a few blocks apart on 10th Avenue, SE. Mercy is at 8th Avenue, and St. Luke's just up the road at 1st Avenue. Mercy was a bust, and St. Luke's wasn't much better. Walking dejectedly toward the river, a building catches your eye.
This building really stands out. For one thing, it is smaller than the buildings close to it. Either shorter, narrower, or both. Second, it's made out of old red brick. Third, it's got a lot of ivy growing on it, but the ivy looks...normal. You are confident that this building will stand for a very long time.
You cross the street, to examine the building more closely, and notice the name carved above the door: Ausadie. Funny, you don't remember this building while growing up here. It probably just seemed insignificant to a teenager. But, now, here it is. Looking healthy. Looking alive and alluring.
You snap out of your reverie. Glancing at your watch, you note that several minues have passed. "How long was I staring at that building?" you wonder. You turn the name over in your mind. "Ausadie. Ausadie." Nope. Doesn't ring a bell.
The shadows grow long in the street. You realize, you'd best be getting back home. You turn and walk along 1st Avenue, following it to the northeast where you have dwelt for several days. Benny sits quietly in your canvas carry-all, along with the single vial of penicillan you managed to scavenge from St. Luke's.
Ausadie. Somehow, you know it's pronounced as if you were saying, "Oh, Sadie." Ausadie. You can almost hear the building calling you.
Almost.The rest of the walk home passes uneventfully. After feeding Benny and yourself, you sit down to do some hard thinking. Cedar Rapids holds nothing for you--unless you wish to visit some ancestors' graves.
Where to go next? East, to the Quad Cities? Maybe one of those four cities will have an actual community. South to Iowa City? Maybe there's something at the University of Iowa. North to Cedar Falls? Nothing there, that you can think of--just a smaller town and a small university. West, toward Des Moines? It is the state capital, but that's about all to recommend it.
A sigh escapes your lips. The choices seem bleek, but you haven't survived all this just to give up. Maybe northeast, toward Dubuque. Or southwest, toward the Amana Colonies? Exasperated, you run your hands through your hair--or what's left of it.
"OK," you think to yourself, "just think about this logically." Pen and paper in hand, you start making a list.
Revising the list, you squeeze two more entries in the compass-logical positions.
You quickly cross off the obviously unproductive choices - Southwest (there is nothing after the Amanas), West (came from that direction, and there's no really big cities until San Francisco), and East (Chicago just sounds scary, for some reason). South doesn't look too good either; if there's nothing in Iowa City, it's a long way to the next large city--probably St. Louis, Missouri.
That leaves North or Northeast. But which way? You hope to find some other people first. Too much time alone might just drive you nuts.
Benny, as if sensing your need for companionship, barks softly at you.
''Aww, Benny, what do you say? Which way should we go?, I say, bending down to pick him up. Dinner time soon, boy.''
Stroking him, I think about actually leaving. ''There's still time to decide. I'm not at all ready yet. I'd better visit the car dealer tomorrow and hit some sporting goods stores. Lemesee....4WD, sleeping bag, camping supplies, a weapon and ammo. Stock up on food. Did I see a microscope in St. Luke's or Mercy? Need that to keep track of all these new bugs. A generator? Hmmm. I don't need it now, but it would surely be useful. Naw. For now, space is better taken up with gas cans. Hmmm. Better stock up on water, too. And liquor.''
''What do you need, Benny boy? Just me and a food dish, eh? Speakin' o' that, let's eat!''
The next morning, you head out to find a car. There are no Hummer dealerships in Cedar Rapids, but there are a couple of other makes available at the car dealerships along 1st Avenue. While the Saturn lot looks the best, as if some mystical force is helping protect it against the Blues, you can't recall any four wheel drive vehicles in the Saturn line. You bypass that lot in favor of a Chevy lot, but you can't find the keys for any of the cars. You spend a lot of time searching the offices for car keys, but don't find them. Odd.
Rather than waste time, you go to the next dealership on the avenue. Kia. Not the choice you'd go with, but you can see a few SVUs on the showroom floor, and the keys are easy to find this time. You pick out a black Kia Sorento. It's loaded. Leather seats, CD player, power everything, and four-wheel drive. It doesn't have much gas in the tank, but the dealership pump quickly fills it. You drive a few blocks, breaking into an auto parts store and grabbing a couple of 5 gallon gas cans. You return to the dealership and fill them up. By now, Benny has grown accustomed to sitting on your carry-all, which is placed on the passenger seat.
Time to get serious on ditching this town.
You return to the house one last time and pack up the few items you want to take. You return to both Mercy and St. Luke's but the microscopes there won't be much help. You know there's no reliable source of electricity, and the microscopes there are expensive, medical professional models which require power. No, something simpler is needed in these uncertain times.
Leaving St. Luke's you remember something about Mercy. Namely, the school next to it. Zipping down 10th Street in your new car, you spot the school. It takes only a few minutes to find a science classroom inside. And in the cupboard, easily broken into, microscopes. And slides. You test them out, pick out the best one, and start stuffing empty slides into the carry-all. You're about to leave, when you hesitate. "Backup. Gotta have backup," you think. You grab another microscope. With the first microscope and boxes of slides filling the carry-all, there's no room for Benny. You scoop up the chihuahua in your right arm, sling the carry-all over your neck so it rests on the left side, and carry the extra microscope in your left hand. You depart the school, pleased with your new supplies.
Decision time.
You head to 1st Avenue. Left, to the northbound interstate? Or right, to take Highway 151 out of town? You look at Benny. The little dog is staring off to the left.
Left it is.
The entrance ramp to I-380 is easy to navigate. It's clear of cars, and there is only one hole in it. Fortunately, the hole is to the side and it's not very large.
Travel is easy for the first few miles. You cruise along, childhood memories filtering back in as you pass the landmarks of Cedar Rapids. Coe College, right by the entrance ramp. Quaker Oats just a bit north. But as you approach the north end of town, more cars clog the highway. By the time you are near the Collins Road exit, the highway is impassable. Frustrated, you exit the highway.
The elevation rises as the exit ramp joins the overpass. At the top, you stop the car and look north. About a quarter mile further along the interstate, you see a mass of burned, twisted metal. Obviously, some sort of multi-vehicle pile-up occurred several months ago. You shudder involuntarily at the thought of that wreckage being someone's final resting place.
The side roads here do not appear to be in very good shape. Collins Road is your best bet, and it seems to be clear of stopped cars. You head east, remembering that Collins Road will eventually take you by Lindale Mall. You pass by the Rockwell-Collins plant, and strip mall hell begins. The same crappy restaurants and stores you knew in California are all here, but they're starting to decay.
The mall. Might as well. Besides, you still need a weapon and some ammo. All the sporting goods stores you checked out were looted long ago. Maybe something remains at Lindale.
You drive into the mall parking lot, smiling at the irony. There's 1st Avenue--having completed its turn to the north, it intersect Collins Road--and the mall is nestled snugly between the two.
You drive around the mall parking lot, noting anything unusual. There are two things that draw your attention. First, there appear to be large semi trucks blocking every door. Second, there is a large mass of tangled metal, which at one time was probably a helicopter, right next to one of the walls.
The mall waits silently. And 1st Avenue, a.k.a. U.S. Highway 151, the road to Dubuque, beckons.
''Well, Benny, you got us here. What do you think now, buddy? Looks a bit fortified, it does. Tell ya what. We'll park behind one of these larger cars and watch the place for a bit. That mangled helo over there makes me a bit nervous. We'll park far enough out so we can watch but still make a quick getaway if we have to. Keep your ears sharp, Benny boy. We don't want anyone comin' behind us while I'm watchin' for movement in the mall. If it looks safe after a couple of hours, we'll walk in closer and I'll leave it to your instincts as to whether we should actually go in or not. How's that sound? O' course, these days, we gotta be ready to change plans at a moment's notice, I'm sure. Just remember our Army training, buddy. Too bad I'm not a young kid anymore, eh?''
Without driving too close to the mall, I find a likely vantage point and keep my eyes and ears open. I certainly won't leave all the watching for ambush to Benny regardless of what I said! As I'm watching, I think of other items that might be in the mall. Some CDs, blues would be just the ticket. Spirits might come in handy, especially whiskey and brandy. Cigarettes might be good for trade. I haven't been out here in years. Was there a pharmacy in Lindale? Some meds besides penicillin would be good, painkillers, muscle relaxers and morphine. Maybe a tetracycline drug for anyone allergic to penicillin. A dextroamphetamine could save my life, especially being alone. A local anesthetic and an antiseptic. Aspirin and Tylenol would be good, too. An ice chest and other camping gear would be great, too.
Well, I can't take the whole mall with me! Especially with this dinky ride. I'm sure it will get me around most obstacles, but it can't carry much. Definitely not adequate for a mobile hospital! Thinking of the future, such as it is, I make a note to keep my eyes out for a larger 4WD. Were the Army gimp wagons 4WD? Hmmm...being stuck in the pharmacy, I never knew. Might hafta check that out. Army bases, let me think...
Thinking of helping the survivors in this new world brings a pang of loneliness and the reminder that I'll first have to find them before I can help them.
''You're great company, Benny, but I need people. The way the mall is set up here, I don't think I'd trust anyone who might be here to not want you for dinner. Or even me, God forbid!'' I shudder at the thought and continue my vigilance.
Your vigilance pays off only in boredom. No one leaves or approaches the mall. No one drives past on the roads. As far as you can tell, the mall is as deserted as the rest of the city.
You can't remember much about this mall. It's probably like small city malls everywhere. One or two crappy anchor stores, with dozens of cruddy national chains inside selling goods imported from Asia at highly inflated prices.
Probably no pharmacy there. For Rexes and other fun supplies, you'll probably need to check out a drug store. Or a super Wal-Mart that wasn't satisfied with driving every other type of business out of town. You remember a Walgreen's on the other side of the street as you first approached the mall. That's as good a place as any to find basic prescription medicines.
So, first the mall. And if there's no drugstore inside, then the Walgreen's across Collins Road.
You approach the first truck cautiously. No keys inside. 'Well, of course,' you think. 'Wouldn't make much sense to fortify the door with a truck and leave the keys in it.' Without getting your hopes up, you check the others trucks, getting less and less cautious as you do. Fortunately, no one comes along and surprises you while you concentrate on examining the remaining trucks.
Same deal--no keys.
Without a background in grand theft auto, you're not sure how to start the trucks without keys.
A little dejected at the missed scavenging opportunity, you get back in the Kia and head for the Walgreen's across the street. As you drive through the mall parking lot, you pass close to the crashed helicopter. You're pretty sure you see some charred bones inside, but quickly avert your eyes from the tragedy.
You fare a little better at the Walgreen's. The front doors are all closed and locked, but the back door is unlocked. The lack of electricity makes it very dark inside--there are no windows on the back wall. The microscopes you scavenged won't help here.
Too bad you didn't scavenge a flashlight yet.
I stop just inside the door, closing it, to allow my eyes to adjust and listening. ''Gonna put you down, Benny, so you can do some exploring on your own.'' I slowly make my way to the film and camera section. ''First a flashlight and batteries, Can't be killin' anyone by pickin' up the wrong drugs.'', I think. I look and feel until I find them, then choose a sturdy model and some working batteries.
Remembering the limitations of my carry-all with the microscopes, I go to the sports section and find the largest duffel bag I can. ''Hmmm...too bad this isn't down south. Hear they have knives and guns in their drugstores even. Kinda like slots in Vegas!'' I look around for some binoculars while I'm in this section.
Back to the film section, snatching up a Polaroid and several film packs, ''Might come in handy'', and scoop up a bunch of useful sized batteries (not forgetting the Polaroid!).
Then I head over to the music section and fill a CD case with blues, blues rock and old rock and roll. Finally, to the meds section and pharmacy. I'll take as many essentials and ''just in case'' equipment and meds as I can.
''C'mon, Benny. You think I forgot anything, pup? I'm not used to this kind o' thinkin', stockin' up for the long haul, come what may.'' I scan the store slowly with my flashlight, looking and pondering before we exit.
Leaving the door propped open, your eyes eventually adjust to the dim light. You see another door, which you assume must lead into the store proper. It does. Most stores you have come across since The End have been looted, or apparently were not well supplied, or both.
This Walgreen's is no exception.
Stepping into the store, there is light from the large glass windows out front. The back of the store, where you are standing, is a bit dark, but at least you won't stumble over something in the dark.
While everything is neat and tidy, indicating that this place was not looted (at least until you came along), the shelves are not exactly brimming with product. You will have to make do with whatever is left over.
You find a few cheap plastic flashlights and take one. You note with some regret that all of the name brand batteries are gone. No Duracells. No Energizers. You'll have to make do with a lesser brand. But at least that's something.
Being a drugstore, the sports sections is small. You find a small duffel bag. Again, it'll have to do, and you dump your extra batteries inside. No binoculars. No knives. And certainly no guns.
Similarly, the music section is quite small--just one display case near the cash registers in the front. The selection is worse than you had feared, but at least there are some "greatest hits" from a few decent rock bands in there. You grab them, leaving behind the no-name artists & recognized crap.
The "music section" is close to the "photography department" where you spy the Polaroid cameras. You open the packaging, and try to find what sort of battery is needed. Apparently none, because there is no battery compartment that you can find. You unwrap a film packet, slap it in, and shut the case. Startled by a "whirring" sound, you see a flat black plastic square eject from the camera. Shrugging your shoulders, you point the camera and press the button. With a blinding flash of light, the camera once again ejects something--this time, the more familiar piece of plastic that is an undeveloped Polaroid image. Stuffing the camera, and the three packages of film remaining into your new duffel bag, you set the photo on the counter. Something is starting to appear, but it's still dark gray blotches on a black background.
After your eyes recover from the flash, you head for the pharmacy. The door is locked, so you climb over the counter. There is a large bank of pill containers, which (under normal conditions) dispense pills after electronic instructions are given. You slam your fist in frustration, knowing that without a key and a password, it won't be easy to get to the pills.
Then you remember the counter. As you climbed over it, you had to look at a large shelf where pharmacists would place filled prescriptions, waiting for pickup. Stepping back over there, you start rifling through them. There aren't many left, and you wonder if what is left will ever be useful. You find a few Rexes for Prozac, Zoloft, Paxil. Apparently, the clinically depressed could not make it to Walgreen's in the final days.
Great. Anti-depressants. Now, every can be HAPPY in the new Eden. It's not much, but it's all you can get to right now. Ironically feeling a twinge of depression, you stuff the pills in your duffel bag.
You head back to the "photography department" to check on your picture. As you look at the image, you are struck by two things.
First, while the picture is pretty boring (just some near-empty shelves at a deserted Walgreen's), there is one unusual feature. In the background of the picture, there is a shape. It's not an undeveloped area, because you can see the shelves behind it. But there is definitely some sort of shape in the photo. Something humanoid--body, two arms, head. And eyes that appear to be looking right at you. The hair on the back of your neck stands up and Benny barks. You are suddenly very, very nervous.
Second, you hear something slam against the glass from outside. Hard. Sounds like the glass might not hold for very long.
Looking in the direction of the sound, you see someone banging on the glass with a brick. "Hey! Let me in!" the man shouts. You take a step or two closer, then stop. Benny has tensed up, and is baring fangs in the man's direction. Everything seems to go silent--you can't hear Benny growling, the brick hitting the glass, or the man shouting. You see his mouth move. You see his arm move. You see the brick hit the glass. But you are temporarily deaf. For a few seconds, you start--almost hypnotized--at the man's mouth. Something is wrong with him. He's gaunt, emaciated. His eyes look...wild. And his teeth are too sharp. No, he is not normal.
Being deafened by the fear is scary, but at least you aren't paralyzed.
A large crack appears in the glass.
I shut off the flashlight, scoop up Benny and run out the back door and make a beeline for the KIA. If I spot a likely looking club on the way, I'll grab that hoping not to use it. "Not the kind of people we're looking for Benny. Scary, that one."
As you run through the darkening store, you spot nothing which might be used as a club. Besides, flight is your top concern, not fighting feral humans.
As you reach the door to the storeroom, you hear the sound of shattering glass. You run through the back room to the outside, the sound of something snarling viciously filling your ears. You hop into the KIA, drop your precious bundles on the passenger seat, and slam your door shut. You screech away as fast as you can. Just before you reach the end of the alley behind the building, you glance in the rear view mirror. Whoever he is, whatever he is, it's running after you. Fortunately, he's no match for an automobile.
Turning the corner of the strip mall, you see two more people in the parking lot. They, too, run after you and are quickly left behind. Your heart is racing, but a few turns later you are on the road to Dubuque. No one in sight, and that suits you just fine for the moment.
It's another ten minutes or so before Benny relaxes.
The rest of the trip to Dubuque in uneventful. You have to drive slower than normal, to weave in and out of abandoned vehicles. Progress is slow, but steady.
On the way, you pass little of interest. In the middle of nowhere, you do see a gigantic Wal-Mart. Over half of the roof has collapsed and one of the walls has caved in. You barely slow down as you drive by--not worth the effort to scavenge there. You also drive through "Grant Wood Country" and you can't help but wonder--would the couple painted in Wood's American Gothic still be around? Or did they make it to Heaven?
It's dark by the time you get to Dubuque. Your first thought is shelter. You drive slowly through the streets, lights off, hoping nothing spots you. Eventually, you pull into a driveway on a residential street. "Well, Benny," you says as you scratch the little dog's head, "let's see if this'll do." The doors are all locked, so you break a window in the back and head in. A modest home, it will do for one night. "Tomorrow, we go shoppin', Benny." He wags his tail--apparently, this dog likes to shop.
You eat and then settle in for the night in an upstairs bedroom. You're still a little shaken from the encounter at Walgreen's in Cedar Rapids, even though that was hours ago. You can't help but wonder, 'How safe is this place?' Still, it'll have to do. You drift off to sleep, fully clothed, Benny sitting on you, watching vigilantly.
You awake around eleven a.m. Benny, apparently, hasn't moved. Once the dog senses that you are awake, he jumps down and heads for the door. He turns and looks at you expectantly. You obediently get up, and take him to the back door. He goes outside for a few seconds and scampers back in. You make breakfast, gather your gear, and prepare to leave.
Time to shop!
You drive through Dubuque, getting the lay of the land and looking for anything that might make a worthwhile place to scavenge. You don't find any likely treasure troves but something very interesting does catch your eye.
As you drive down the street, you see a stopped pickup truck on the other side. Nothing unusual so far. But as you get closer, you see two people inside the truck. A man is behind the wheel, holding his arm. A younger woman is in the passenger seat, looking at the man.
You slow down and stop.
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