Day 3

I wake for the second day in a row to sirens. These are different. They seem to be everywhere. Not necessarily close, but constant. I can hear them as they passed on State St. half a mile away. Everything seems loud. I make my way to the living room and opened the door. It took several moments for my eyes to adjust and several more to fully take in what I was seeing. Smoke stacks billow and blow in the wind from more than twenty places, turning the sky a dark shade of grey. I can hear fire burning somewhere with the echoes of people screaming.

Had the infection made its way up here? Or was this just panic . . .


I hurry in, locking the door behind me and flip on the TV. There is nothing. I look around into the kitchen to see the clock on the microwave. The power is out. I swear under my breath as I gather the few things I had not put into the van, and then run outside and grab out cooler. I fill it with food from our fridge, some freezer items and as much ice as was in our freezer, (about a seven pound bag). I hurry out side and put everything in the van. Lastly, I put my road bike on a bike rack I'd hooked up to the back door. I then put the small bat on the seat next to me and begin driving.

"Are you OK?" my mother, Awbrey, says when she answers her phone.

"Yes. Is everyone OK there?"

"Yeah, we're packing to leave. We're going to head down to St. George to your uncles house. It'll be safer there."

"Is Josh home?" Joshua was my younger brother, the older of the three siblings after me. Next was Daniel, and then Joyce.

"No," I can tell she was worried. She pauses for several seconds. "We need to go up to Salt Lake and get him."

"I'll go," I say before thinking but I know why I want to get him. I need company and someone to take the wheel during out trek to Oregon. I explain this to my mother and she seems OK with it. I think they're anxious to leave and worried about my sister, Joyce, the only one left living at home.

It takes me almost an hour to get to their home in Pleasant Grove--only seven miles away from my Orem house. The traffic is bad, people panicking, packing, talking in the middle of the street. I was frustrated and felt anxious. I call Dawn again and talk with her until I get to my parents. Things are still calm there and I am grateful for that.

When I pull up to my parents I see my Father, Lee, placing several rifles and shotguns in the back of their SUV. I am shocked to see this and realize how serious this is. He see's me and grabs one of the shotguns from where it lay in the open rear door and walks over to me.

"Here." I take it without question. "I hope it is only me over reacting but I saw what is happening in Texas before the power went out. It's not good and it is spreading fast."

"What is it?" I ask.

"No idea. Zombies?" He says the last work and makes an attempt to laugh but there is no humor in the sound. "Anyway, there's only five rounds in this," he motions to the gun, "but it's something."

The last time I had shot a gun was over seven years ago. And even then it was a rare thing and so looking at this long silver grey object only increased my anxiety. What if I had to use it? What if those things started to appear, whatever they are, and I needed to shoot it at them? Could I fire it at them? Another human . . .

My dad, seeing my anxiousness, takes the gun from me and shows me basics on how to load it and fire. "It's got a good kick, so watch for that. Hopefully there will be no need for this. But keep it close." I put it between the two front seats of the van.

My parents had cleared out much of their supplies but there were several camping supplies left which I take and load up. It is a quick visit and a quick goodbye. We wanted to be together longer but knew what needed to be done. I hug them each and promise to call them as soon as I was with Josh. Finally, and reluctantly we leave.

I had asked--before they left--about Dan, my youngest brother, who lives in Finland, but they had not heard from him. All we can do is hope that he is OK and can sometime, or somehow get through to us.

There's an odd feeling, I have always thought, associated with moving. Leaving your home behind and heading to a new one. A transformative realization that dawns as you drive away. This is different. This is pure dread. I do not live there, and have not for some time, however I had grown up there and now it is being left behind. Not empty. Not moving. Just abandoned.

Traffic is Hell. But I make it. Takes five hours of creeping along and weaving through people parked on the road as if all sense of laws have been abandoned over night. I call Dawn and tell her it could take a few days if the roads were like this. Everything there, however, is still fine.

I wonder how long the cell phones would last. It worries me. Constant contact with her has helped to calm me, but if that is taken . . .

It is getting dark when I get to Josh's place. He is the only one left there, his room mates having left, and as I pull up he runs out with several bags. His face is grave and I can tell something has happened. He reaches for the sliding door but it doesn't budge.

"That one is broken," I yell to him and he, hurriedly opens the front door, swings his bags around into the back and climbs in.

"We need to move!" The urgency in his voice is frightening. He is usually calm and collective and this is new. New and horrifying.

"Why? What happened?"

"Just drive. Drive out of the city." I start the car, but demand more answers as we make our way past the freeway and into the suburbs.

"There are infected here . . . if that is the right word. I saw them." His eyes are wide with terror. With shock. "We need to get out of the city."

"Where?! Where did you see them?"

"I went out to get some supplies, U of U had been hit by rioters hard, but I figured we could use some medical supplies and so I went and as I was sifting through the fallen shelves, I saw them. They tore a man apart. . ." He paused and never started up again. I am horrified. I glance down at the gun and Josh, seeing me, did likewise and recognizes it as our fathers.

"Grab that and hold on to it. We may need it."

I call Dawn once more before I would resign to driving through the night. Still nothing happening where she was and I am relieved. I tell her what Josh had told me. We are scared together. The line cut out mid-sentence and I can no longer get a signal. Josh had spoken with our parents some time before and now we are on our own. Alone, in a van, driving slowly to Oregon.