Leaving Wausau
The end of August is usually a relaxing time for you. School is starting, and you don't have to go back anymore. That brings a contentedness you find especially nice. Of course, it can't replace the ache in your heart. You will never be truly happy, so the feelings of contentedness will have to do. You get such feelings a few times a year: the end of August, when you don't have to go back to school, and again in both December and May, when you don't have to grade final exams and projects. Life is just one long vacation, with the feelings of content easing the ache a little bit.
Hunting helps. You may not have had power over your wife's cancer, but you can show dominion over animals, especially when you site them in your scope. And most of them are tasty, too. As an added bonus, you sometimes imagine the face of God on the animal you shoot, bringing some feeling of satisfaction as it/He slumps to the ground, dead.
But this August is different. After a long, miserable summer, there is no relaxing, no feeling of contentedness. Instead, some vast storm of evil seems to have attacked your neck of the woods. With all that's going on in the world, you wonder if the rest of the planet is experiencing this, too. You finally come to the conclusion that, yes, this must be a world-wide phenomenon. There is no scientific explanation for the maladies laying waste to upper Wisconsin, certainly no scientific reason to believe that earthquakes would ever happen here. Yet, here they are. And storms that could only be called hurricanes were not normal, either. You don't know if you were hit by two different storms, or just the same storm with a break as the "eye" passed over.
The good news is, you survived God's wrath. The bad news is, no one else did. At least near Wausau, no one seems to have survived. The taller buildings in town are wrecked beyond recognition; you can't even travel to some parts of town since toppled buildings block entire streets.
The outskirts of town aren't much better. You scavenge what you can, but it's not promising. Your plans to restock were shot to hell by the early months of the year. Everything was so crazy, you could never manage to get into town when the supplies were available. As such, you're down to five rounds of ammo for your gun. You still have your car, and the lack of people makes finding gasoline not too difficult.
Last night, you saw a bear. That, in and of itself, is not that unusual. But this bear was different--it was huge. You'd never seen a bear that big in Wisconsin before. And if you didn't know any better, you'd think this bear was tracking someone. It moved with a purpose, without any of the usual meanderings of a typical bear. You managed to stay upwind of the bear, and keep silent enough that it didn't hear you. Yet at one point, you could have sworn the bear was staring right at the spot where you were hiding. It was only a second or two, but at the time it felt like an eternity. You kept silent and fortunately the beast moved on.
You also noticed a lot more howling at night. So much howling, in fact, that you started to keep track of the noise. After just a week, the number of howls has grown dramatically. You also think they've grown closer. And last night, howls came from the opposite direction. Rather than wait to be surrounded by wolves, you decided it's time to leave. You throw a few belongings into you car, pack as much food and water as you can manage in the back, place your gun and shells on the passenger seat, and take off at noon.
Reasoning that a city would be safer since the animals are overtaking the wilderness, you head south from Wausau. The first big city will be Madison. After that, you can cut southwest to Dubuque, east to Milwaukee, or south to Illinois.
Interstate 39 seems reasonably clear. Right after you enter the highway, you notice something in your rear-view mirror. A wolf. Bigger than any wolf you've ever seen, it stands in the road, just behind the entrance ramp you used. You put your eyes back on the road; there are stalled cars to avoid, after all. A few seconds later, you glance in the mirror again. Nothing. You're sure it was there. But the size! Was its shoulder really taller than the car next to it? Shaken, but glad to be leaving, you continue on. There are no signs of life as you pass through the small towns clustered by the exits: Mosinee, Knowlton, Casimir. As far as you can tell, they're ghost towns now. You do see some smoke--something must be burning, and it appears to be not too far from the highway. Yet, caution seems in order and you decide not to investigate any of these fires.
Driving is tiring. You must constantly swerve to avoid stalled and abandoned cars. Sometimes, the doors are open. And in a few of those cars, someone is still inside. After you pass one car with a partially gnawed-on driver, you try to focus on the road and avoid noticing any details about the cars bypass.
As you approach Steven's Point, you hear a soft "ding" as the fuel meter indicator goes off. You're almost out of gas. Exiting the interstate at U.S. Highway 10, you pull into an abandoned gas station. You're in luck--there's still gas in the pumps. As you fill the car, you look around, trying to spot anything significant. You see a stack of plastic gas cans just inside the door of the gas station. The glass windows and door are all still intact, and it's hard to see very far into the convenience store. Still, maybe there's something worth scavenging in there?
Across the street, you see another gas station. Something did some major damage to it, though, because you see no windows, just broken glass. The door is propped open, and two of the pumps are tipped over. Debris litters the pavement, and some of the paper debris has blown over the gas station you're using. Next to the demolished gas station is a fast food restaurant. Only a few of its windows are gone.
SLAM!
You jump, as you are startled by the loud sound of a door slamming shut. You can't see any doors, but the sound came from behind "your" gas station. You're almost done re-fueling. Your heart quickens, your hands suddenly feel clammy and cold, and the gun on your front seat seems very far away. You finish re-fueling, and hang the nozzle back up for the next customer. It takes a couple of tries to get the gas cap screwed back on, and then you jump into the driver's seat and close the door. Your heart still racing, you hit the locks.
What next, you wonder? Taking a few deep breaths, you calm down a bit. Making sure the gun is loaded and holding it seems to help calm you greatly. Investigate the sound? Scavenge for supplies? Or get back on the highway?
What next...
First off, I'm going to grab my rifle and start my car and wait a moment or two. If nothing approaches from the back of the station then I'm going to pull my car up to the front door of it; in the event that I need to get out of there quick. I leave the car running.
My first priority will be the gas cans, I won't linger inside to scrounge for anything that doesn't immediately catch my eye. Once I get the cans and anything that does happen to catch my eye, I'll move the car and fill them up and head out on the road.
Gun in your hands, you wait.
And wait.
And wait some more.
Either there's nothing coming, or it's more patient than you are. Finally, sitting motionless gets to you. You start the car, drive to one side of the parking lot and then the other. You can't really get completely behind the store, but you can tell that there is no army back there, waiting to get you. Calmer, you pull the car around front and prepare to go inside.
The door is locked. No bother, your tire iron eventually cracks the glass. As the glass breaks, an awful odor assaults your nose. You reach through the broken pane, flip the bolt, and open the door.
This place is nice. The only thing out of place appears to be the glass you just broke. Near the door, you see what used to be a donut display, covered in mold.
'Must have done a brisk business at the end,' you think to yourself, noticing the neat but sparse shelves. Most of the good stuff is gone--batteries, aspirin, beef jerky--all gone.
The horrible stench appears to be coming from behind the counter. You take a step or two closer, see a leg, and decide not to investigate further. You grab two gas cans, head outside and put them in the car, and go back for two more. A little re-arranging in the back seat and they'll all fit.
You go to the pumps. One by one, you take out the gas cans, fill them up, and put them in the back seat. 'Gotta remember to drive with the windows open,' you mentally remind yourself.
So far, so good.
The gas cans full, you hang the nozzle back up, get in the car, and head for the highway. You get back on the interstate with no problem, and head towards Madison.
With the time spend at the gas station, and the slow speed required to dodge traffic hazards, it takes a lot longer to get to Madison that it used to Before.
It's after 7 p.m. when you get to the outskirts of the state capital. If anyone was going to a "big" city in Wisconsin, this is one of the few choices available. You wonder....'Should I find a place to stay right away? Or look for other people first?
With the rifle still loaded I head into Madison. Driving slowly (which probably is hard not to do with the obstacles in the road) I keep an eye out for any sign of survivors. My guess is that most of them will have congregated near the capital building or the UW campus.
If I don't make it to the capitol building before 10pm then I'll find a place to tuck my car out of sight and lock the doors. I'll stay up for an hour or two in case anyone approaches me, maybe have a little snack.
If I do come across someone I will react depending on the situation. No matter what I will not be the first to point a gun.
Mad Town
The state capital is creepy at night. Maybe it's because you expected to see people congregating here, but they're not. Or, if they are, they not outside.
Near the university, you start to see graffiti, and often the same phrase.
Sometimes, it's underlined. Sometimes, it's not. But it is, by far, the most common graffiti. Whoever--or whatever--EN is, it has certainly marked its territory.
Continuing on, you approach the area near the state capital. A feeling of unease has settled over you since dusk, so you have turned off your headlights. Don't want to be a sitting duck, visible a mile away.
Were it not for the curves in the road, you would have seen the other car coming. You still have plenty of warning, as its headlights become visible a few blocks away. You slow down, but the other car seems not to have noticed you. It's moving faster, and a little recklessly through the streets. Well, not reckless, just careless. Like it doesn't have to look out for other drivers.
When you are very close to the other car, it makes another of its random swerves and almost hits your vehicle. You turn sharply to avoid a collision, your tires squealing on the pavement. The other driver notices the squealing tires, slamming on the brakes in response. Both the driver and the kid in her car turn to look at you, a stunned look on their faces.
With my right hand on my rifle (keeping it out of sight) I will roll down my window. I mean to speak but I'm sure that not much comes out of my mouth at first. It has been quite a while since I've seen another person.
After a few uncomfortable seconds I say: 'Hello...how are you?'
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