CHAPTER 2

The winter storms came down from Canada, over the Great Lakes, and lasted days. Once the snow began to melt, Detroit would be knee deep in gray, icy slush, and the wind would be cold and cutting. Scavenging in the city would be brutal. They would do it hoping that next year, same time, they would bed down in the warmth of lower latitudes. That was their dream.

Daniel needed a dream because reality was killing him. He could no longer stomach the day-to-day existence. He needed a future in sight that was worth living. He ached for the company of humanity, the warmth and comfort of family and home, the busy struggle to reach goals. The self-delusion that progress and society would always be there, had been the mainstay of his existence. With all that gone, he was adrift in a sea of misery.

Daniel knew they must pick up and go. They might be delusional in their insane quest, but if he didn’t move, he’d kill himself. The next time he climbed to a roof, it would be to jump, leaving his son alone and unprotected. He couldn’t do that to him.

It took four days for the storm to work its way through the Great Lakes area. These storms were the bread and butter of winter in the northern states. The small group of survivors hunkered down in a house they had taken over a year earlier.

The house was about ten miles south of Detroit. The bodies of the previous occupants were buried in the back yard. It was a silent and depressing task done before they moved in. Its owners had kept the abode immaculate. Daniel insisted on keeping it the same way. It was home, after all, however temporary.

Once a month, they made the trip to the city to scrounge for things they needed on a daily basis. They kept the house stocked with the bare necessities. There were cans of evaporated milk, beans, soups, and vegetables. Vacuum-sealed, irradiated meats were more precious than gold. Personal hygiene products and cleaning materials could be used years beyond expiration dates. At this point, everything was beyond expiration dates.

With only three of them in the entire city, they should have been adrift in a sea of abundance, but it was not so. In the three major pandemics of the last century, the production chains had not collapsed. On-site quarantines and the relatively low mortality rates had kept a minimum workforce active. But this time, the airborne virus which had spread so quickly produced a mortality rate never seen before. 

On previous pandemics, the overcrowded cities had produced a majority of the casualties early on. This had taught city dwellers that during a pandemic, it was safer to shelter somewhere else. The massive exodus from the city hubs started within days of the breakouts. Only those too weak, sick, or without the means to travel remained.

All industry came to a standstill with shocking speed. The large warehouses and shipping concerns required their workers to quarantine on site to minimize outside contacts. They had not expected an airborne virus. Thousands of workers died in their work dorm cots.

The terrified populace began hoarding all manner of comestibles and supplies before the cargo planes and ships stopped delivering. As a result, scrounging in stores and warehouses was slim at best. Whatever remained on the shelves was since eaten and destroyed by mice, rats, and humidity. The best salvaging was done from the homes of the dead.

At first, the utilities had continued to flow for months because most utilities were highly automated, solar powered, and driven by complex computer systems. A year after the pandemic began, you could still see streetlights in the distance, but those were from solar circuits still active. Little by little, even those disappeared, falling victim to the inclement weather and lack of maintenance.

When they first settled in the house, they took a portable generator from a warehouse. They made it a point to scavenge for hydrogen fuel cylinders often, but it wasn’t worth the effort anymore. The pickup truck in the garage, a blessing at first, now was useless. Not being mechanics, they had struggled to keep it in running order before finally giving up.

Cars were everywhere. There were millions of rusting, decaying, unusable car carcasses everywhere. They were in every garage, in every driveway, parked by the sidewalks, buried under mountains of snow and rotting leaves.

The problem was all vehicles were electric and packed with electronic components and sensors. Fossil fuel cars had gone out of production decades earlier. The batteries for electric cars deteriorated quickly, not designed for sitting idle in damp summers and freezing winters for two years. The maintenance of the dozens of different electronic systems took specialized knowledge which neither Daniel nor Dr. Salvo possessed.

The one thing which bothered Daniel most was that survival, at first, seemed easy. They were so few, and there was enough around them. But in time, all those things began to run out or become unusable through corrosion and decay. Already, the use-by date on most edible goods was expired. Boxed and bagged foods were worthless after exposure to mice and damp conditions.

The biggest problem he saw was a lack of knowledge. Theirs had been a society fostered on general ignorance. The secrets of manufacture lied deeply hidden in the bellies of the corporations. These, in turn, were in faraway countries where labor was cheap. Most processes were mechanized and digitized. The technology used was so advanced, it seemed almost magic to the average person.

At home, the people were kept comfortable and deluded, fattened and stupid. They were a perfect matrix of consumerism. In homes all over the USA, the youngest child could surf and maneuver the web and play the most intensive games, but it grew up not knowing how to add without the help of a calculator.

Coffee flowed from automated machines that a vendor came and loaded once a month. Clothing arrived from internet stores, and only God knew how to make a hammer. Now there was no one left alive who knew how to make those things and no way to get the information.

“We can follow the signs that are still up. We know east and west. We move always south and follow the signs.” Johnny had no concept of the maze of highways they would encounter. “What do you say, Doc?”

“I say tomorrow we take a ride to the university at Dearborn. If we can’t find something there, we may have no choice. God, what I wouldn’t give for an old-fashioned, blue highway map. I remember my grandfather used to collect them. He framed them like pictures and hung them in his basement room.”

Before the pandemic, there was no need for maps; every vehicle was GPS guided and drove itself. In truth, there was no need for street and highway signs. Thank God those didn’t go out of fashion. Society needed the reassuring visual cues.”

“As long as we’re there, we may as well go back to the bike shop. We should scrounge every tire patch and a couple of the smallest hand pumps we can find,” said Daniel. He pulled off his boots and wool socks and placed them by the fire to dry. Another blessing was bicycle riding never went out of fashion either. He sat down on the couch and placed his feet up on the padded stool.

His feet were sore and damp. He wanted a beer but was too tired to get up and get it. “Johnny, be a good boy and bring in a few beers.” Johnny didn’t even bother to put on his coat. He dashed outside and came back with half a dozen cold ones. There was no need for a refrigerator in a Michigan winter.

“You know, Dad, in a couple of weeks, Spring will start. It will still be nippy, but the snow will stop. Heading south, we’ll see a change in temperature with every hour we travel. We can still cover fifteen miles an hour, even if we ride loaded. Seventeen hours will put us in Kentucky.”

“You’re not considering the weather, the rest stops, or any trouble with the bikes. We’ll have to stop for supplies and to scout for survivors along the way. I figure we can ride six hours a day, giving ourselves plenty of room to find reasonable shelter. A good estimate for Kentucky is three days. Then, we’ll decide whether to head south or turn west. What do you think, Bill?”

The young doctor nodded in agreement. His shoulder-length, curling, dark hair framed his broad, handsome face. “Sounds like a reasonable plan. Besides, we don’t have anywhere to be. I may be the first unemployed doctor in American history. You guys aren’t looking to make job interviews any time soon. Think of this trip as biking for pleasure across the country. We’re going to see the world.” He smiled over his beer.

“Hell, yeah,” chuckled Daniel, wiggling his toes. “We’re men of leisure.”

******

The university library was a bust. Finding it and breaking in was no problem, but they found nothing they could use. There were banks upon banks of dusty, damp computer terminals, all dead. Desks, tables, and chairs were all covered in mildew. The heaters and air conditioners ceased working long ago, and the damp and cold had left their mark on everything.

Fungus covered the walls and surfaces. Daylight struggled to reach the deep corners, and the wide, generous spaces seemed vast, desolate caverns. The men spoke in hushed voices, afraid to awaken the imaginary bats and sleeping beasts hiding in the shadowy, mysterious spaces.

They fared better at the high school they found. In a display case in the main lobby, they discovered an old, oversized book. The mildewed cover showed a faded picture of a blue planet Earth as seen from space. In big, gold letters across the cover was the title, Planet Earth Macmillan World Atlas.

Bill Salvo was salivating as Johnny made quick work of breaking into the display. The old book, dated 1997, was an antique, obsolete, and priceless. The printing of books had gone out of fashion decades earlier. The atlas showed detailed maps of the states. The distances, shown to scale, were a godsend. It weighed a ton, but Bill Salvo was not leaving without it. Here was some of the knowledge he felt was vital for the long run.

That evening back in their shelter, they discussed the day’s lessons. “During the wars and plagues of the early Middle Ages, the ancient knowledge survived. It was jealously guarded and preserved in the old Catholic monasteries of Europe, in the ancient scroll libraries of the Saracens, and in the great palace libraries of the Orient.” Dr. Salvo was a collector of knowledge. He loved sharing his thoughts.

“Monks and other artists spent centuries meticulously copying all kinds of works left from the times of the ancient Greeks, Romans, and Egyptians. They did this by hand, using small brushes and quills made of bird feathers. Most of the great music, philosophy, mathematics, and astronomy survived. The Chinese invented paper pretty early. The great secrets of paper making spread to the ancient Arab world and later to Europe.

“In contrast, all our present knowledge resided in the vast computer databases. The mammoth corporations and governments thought it was the best and most efficient way to store information. Commercial printing died decades ago. The last of the printing houses went out of business in the 2050s. Much earlier, the old plastic discs used to store music, photos, and movies, were replaced with virtual cloud storage.” He took a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Your personal Id chip connected you to the cloud. All data was stored in the world cloud matrix. The energy that powered it, the circuits and airways it traveled, and the highly specialized techs that understood the secrets of its language, made the cloud real. It’s now gone, and with it, all our knowledge.” Bill Salvo stared off into the flickering flames, the sadness in his face reflecting his loss and regret.

“What do we do now? The information we need, how do we find it?” asked Johnny.

“I don’t know,” the doctor shook his head sadly. “We search everywhere we go for antique books, anything in writing we can find. We found the atlas.”

Salvo had it right, thought Daniel. They needed to learn to do for themselves and begin to map out the future. Heading away from the cold winters and the crumbling cities was the first step. To live off the land, they would have to figure things out. They would live as humanity did long ago. Survival of the fittest was the one option left to them. As the old saying went, nature did not believe in multiple-choice answers.