The Black Out(Thomas Post) The Black Out
By
Tom Post


Jeff woke up to the sun shining brightly through the window of his studio apartment. He was confused. His alarm normally woke him up before dawn to get to work at the factory; the power must have gone out during the night; the digital display on the clock was black and he felt well rested for a change. He threw the alarm and cussed up a storm. Even though he had a perfect record at work, he only had a high school diploma and no other work experience. In a job where the boss knows you by your employee number and not your name, he was the definition of “expendable”. He whipped out his phone to call his boss and try to save his job. He looked down and saw no signal; he picked up the landline to find no dial tone. “What the hell is going on?” he said out loud.

He looked outside to find the streets as busy as usual, but saw that all the traffic lights were out. He decided to do what he did every day: he lit a cigarette, grabbed the keys to the truck, and stepped out the door for work. Today’s trip was faster than usual; but then again he didn’t have to part the “Red Sea” of traffic lights. He arrived to find the parking lot empty with a sign on the door saying, “Closed ‘Til The Power’s Back”. The factory was closed, but he figured at least his job was safe. He couldn’t help but be a little bit happy; this would be his first day off in a month. He decided to go home and celebrate.

Jeff was a country boy, born and raised. He liked whiskey, cigarettes, blasting his Johnny Cash records, and playing old blues tunes on the $30 guitar he taught himself to play. He would rather sit by the bonfire than watch a movie. He would still live in the country if he could, but the family needed help to keep the farm. The factory job might as well have been an insane asylum for Jeff, and he was going to end up in one if he had to keep this going much longer. The day that he graduated high school he saw an ad in the classified section for the factory downtown. He took the job, moved to the city, and the rest is history. He sent $100 from each check back home to mom and dad. It wasn’t much but it was enough for them to keep the farm. He had lived in the city for almost five years, but still didn’t have any real friends. Sure, he had some pals at work and he would be lying if he said they had never gone out for a beer after their shift. Even on those rare occasions, he still didn’t quite feel like a part of the group. He was just a fish out of water in the city, and he knew he would never truly fit in. He was okay with it though; he would rather stay true to himself than have a crowd of friends.

He pulled back into the parking lot, locked his truck, and made his way up the stairs to his apartment. His apartment was sparse; he had a futon, a coffee table, and a small TV on an old milk crate. That was it, but it was all he needed. He decided to enjoy this free day the right way, so he poured a glass of Jack Daniel’s and lit a cigarette. A few glasses later, he was sound asleep on the futon. Several days went by this way. He had seen power outages before, but this had gone on much longer than any one that he remembered. Day after day, he would wake up, eat a cold can of whatever was in the pantry, and drink until he fell asleep. At first, he really enjoyed the vacation. However, this went on so long that he wasn’t sure anymore how many days he’d been without electricity. He guessed it had been about two weeks.

Jeff wasn’t sure what woke him up, but he just had a strange feeling that something wasn’t right. He had grabbed a bottle of water from the now room temperature refrigerator and lit a cigarette, his age-old trick to shake off the beginnings of this hangover. He sat there for about an hour nursing his water before he heard the sound of shouting. His neighbors argued at all hours, but this sounded different. This was no lovers’ quarrel; it was a group of men. They were pounding on doors and shouting commands.

“Let us in!” they shouted, “Make this easy, just give us your food and water and we’ll leave you alone.”

Jeff had seen his neighbors, and they weren’t the kind that scared easily. But, just about anybody gets scared when you see 5 big guys storming your hallway. Three of them had knives, one had a gun, and the last one had a flat-head axe. Jeff looked through his peephole to see that they were about three doors down, and he saw splinters of wood further down. Their game was clear, if you didn’t let them in they were breaking in. He knew that he had to act fast, these men were crazed, and Jeff definitely didn’t believe that if he gave them the food he would be safe. He grabbed his keys, hunting pack, and grandpa’s rifle and made his way down the fire escape. He only had one thought on his mind - get to the farm.

He crept down the fire escape cautiously and quietly. If the raiders had a lookout, he could easily hear the metallic clank of the stairs from the parking lot. When he finally reached the ground, he didn’t see anyone on the lookout, so he quickly made his way to the truck. He put the keys in the ignition and fired it up. It was still pitch dark, but he chose to avoid the headlights for now; anybody else with bad intentions could see them from a mile away.

As he made his way down the unlit road, he decided to take inventory of the hunting bag. It had been at least a year since he had been out hunting, and he didn’t remember what he had in the pack. He opened it with great optimism, and he was not let down. Jeff was always prepared, never the type to leave his rifle dirty after a hunt, and he always stocked his bag as soon as he got home. Inside, he found a flashlight, hunting knife, Zippo lighter, two boxes of ammo, some iodine tablets, and a half-dozen MREs he picked up at the Army surplus store. He knew that if things took a turn for the worse that he would be alright for at least a couple of days.

Jeff was getting to the end of town now, and he was about to hop on the interstate. He was driving fast; the last thing he needed was someone to be able to attack the truck. Even though he was moving fast, he still tried to get a good idea of what had happened in the city. What he saw looked like a war zone. There wasn’t power anywhere. All of the street lights and gas pumps were off, and the doors of all the shops and buildings were chained shut. The glass doors and windows of the grocery stores were busted out. Desperate people must have already got to the food, but this wasn’t too surprising; people were breaking into homes for what little food and water was there. He considered stopping, just to see if someone had carelessly looked over some food or supplies. However, as he passed the store he was glad that he didn’t.

At first glance, the front of the store just looked like a pile of carts and discarded food packaging. As he got closer, he could tell that this wasn’t just a heap of junk. The carts and boxes were arranged into a carefully constructed barricade. Horror truly struck Jeff when he looked into the parking lot. From a distance, he thought there was trash throughout the parking lot. The “trash” turned out to be the dead bodies of men and women who had tried before him to get some food. A group of raiders must have holed themselves up in the store, and by the looks of it they were heavily armed. He punched the gas, lit up a smoke, and prayed that they didn’t see or hear him.

His troubles didn’t ease up when he hit the highway either. He heard a ding and saw a light come on; “Shit!” he said out loud, “I knew I should have filled it up yesterday.” He was waiting for the prices to go down like the news predicted, but nobody guessed that they would go down this much. The farm was still about 70 miles away, so there was no way he would make it with the gas that he had. He knew that once the light came on he had about 50 miles left, he decided to use 40 of them to get as far on the interstate as he could, and the remainder to get as far from the highway as he could. He figured if any raiders were out this far, they would be on the highway.

Jeff watched the odometer closely, and as soon as the trip hit forty he made his way to the closest exit. The exit he found was out in the country, only one small gas station in sight. He decided to check it out, just in case it had power. He wasn’t surprised to see the same thing as the gas stations back in town, no power and the door chained shut. The windows were busted out, but it looked abandoned. He decided to give it a shot.

The convenience store was pretty well picked over. All of the food he saw was spoiled, and he choked on the smell of sour milk. He nearly vomited from the odor, but he fought the urge. He had run out of water and he couldn’t afford to throw up what little fluid was left in his system. There was nothing to drink in here besides spoiled milk. Because there were no obvious things that he needed in the store, he decided to get creative and see if there was anything that he could make use of.

He saw a bottle of sunscreen on a shelf. The people who had first broken into the store probably thought nothing of overlooking it. However, Jeff remembered from his time in the Boy Scouts that sunburn could lead to dehydration. He looked behind the counter and found a bottle of lighter fluid to refill his Zippo. He also grabbed a carton of smokes. He didn’t know when he would be able to get another pack and smoking was the one thing that kept him from completely losing it.

He took a quick survey of the store before he left. It was just so barren; he was lucky to even get the few things that he found. Before he left, he decided to grab a gas can. He wasn’t foolish enough to think he would find a working pump, he just knew that he would eventually need something to keep water in.

Jeff hopped back in the truck and used the last of the gas to head towards the woods. He knew that traveling alone would be dangerous. If anyone could see him from the road, he would be a very easy target. Walking through the woods with limited food and water was dangerous enough, but at least the trees would provide some cover from anybody with bad intentions. As he headed into the woods, he heard the engine start to sputter. The real part of his journey was about to begin. He lit a cigarette and gathered himself for the trip ahead. He took the last puff, slung the hunting rifle over his shoulder, and grabbed the hunting pack. He headed back into the trees, far enough that he finally lost sight of the highway, and started north towards the farm.

After a short walk, maybe a mile or two, Jeff began to feel completely exhausted. He had always been an athletic guy. He played football in high school, and the physical labor at the factory had kept him in pretty good shape. There was no reason that a short walk through the woods should wear him out. Then he realized that he hadn’t eaten, at all. The past day and a half had been so hectic that he had forgot to eat. He knew that he would have to stop and eat something before he went any further. He needed to sleep too, but he didn’t have time for that. He reached into the backpack and pulled out the Army rations, and picked out “Sloppy Joe” for his first meal. He didn’t even take the time to heat the meal; he ripped open each of the packages with his knife and practically swallowed the food whole. His family raised pigs, and they had manners compared to how Jeff was eating right now. Over a day without food had made him ravenously hungry, and he wanted nothing more than to eat the rest of the food that he had in the bag, but he knew that he would need to save it for later. He figured that he was about 50 miles from the farm. He could make it there in two days if he kept a good pace and didn’t run into any problems along the way. That was a lot to ask for a trip through the woods on foot. To be safe, he figured that it would take 3 days. He had just enough food to have 2 MREs a day. Even though he was still very hungry, he decided to ration the remaining food out. He could move a lot faster if he didn’t have to worry about hunting or fishing, and he could save all of the ammunition for self-defense. He prayed that he wouldn’t need the ammo.

He kept moving due north towards the farm, moving fast. When he realized just how fast he was moving, he noticed that he was in a light jog. He forced himself to slow down. He wanted to run the whole way there, but he knew that he had to save his energy if he was ever going to make it. He had to consciously force himself not to run, and fighting that urge was exhausting. He sat down on a log to eat one more meal, and the salty, packaged meal made his mouth dry. He had no water with him, but he knew that he had to find some quickly. He hoped to find a stream or river, but he didn’t hear any moving water and he needed something to drink, now. He scanned the area to see if there was something, anything that he could get water from. About a hundred yards from where he had just eaten, he found a puddle. The water was muddy, and there wasn’t much there. Jeff wasn’t a picky man, but he struggled with the thought of drinking it. He got as much of the murky water as he could into the gas can. He dropped in a couple of iodine tablets, one more for good luck, and waited for the water to be disinfected.

Once he decided that it had been long enough, he gathered up his courage and took a sip. It was awful. It was gritty, tasted like iodine, and smelled stale. He didn’t even know that such a combination was possible. As disgusting as the water was, he found himself gulping more and more of it. He was thirsty, bordering dehydration. He felt hot and tired. He began to feel a steady pounding in his head, and he was nauseous (although that could have been from the water). He took a couple more sips of water, and lit a cigarette to calm his nerves and his stomach. He’d been hustling all day, so he decided that this was as good of a place as any to rest for the night. He didn’t have a coat, and he didn’t dare risk starting a fire. He knew that if somebody saw the smoke from a fire, he would be an even easier target now. But it was October in Ohio, how cold could it really get tonight?

It couldn’t have been more than two or three hours before he woke up, freezing. He could see his breath in front of his face, and it was still dark out. Luckily, without the pollution and streetlights that came with the city, the sky was full of stars to give him just enough light. He decided to have a meal before he started moving for the day. This was only his third one and, even though he was famished, he was growing tired of them. He struggled to get it all down, but he knew that he needed it. He decided to force down the rest of the water too. It was a little bitter cold, but it was still rough. He smoked a cigarette to wake himself up, and he took off. This time he decided to jog, he needed to find fresh water as soon as he could. He just promised himself that he would take the breaks when he needed them.

He moved quickly, but his breaks became more frequent and longer. Every time that he stopped, he checked the moss on the trees. As tired as he was, he wanted to make sure that he was at least traveling in the right direction. The jog was a good idea, but he wasn’t forcing himself to slow down anymore. He was just walking now, and his breaks were just as long as the time he spent walking. Still, he had to keep moving and hope that he found some water.

He finally found a small puddle. There was even less water in this one than the one he gathered from last night, but he needed it. He didn’t even mess with the iodine this time. As risky as it was, he drank straight from the puddle. He was so thirsty that he drank it dry. He was still dehydrated; he felt his legs beginning to cramp. He knew he had to move now while he still could.

He only got another half mile before he realized that this was futile. He had to find water or he was a goner. He figured that the best plan now was to climb a tree, and hope to see a creek or stream. The lowest branch on any of the trees had to be at least eight feet up. He knew that he would have to jump, after he got that first branch it looked like an easy climb. But as tired as he was, that leap was going to be a bitch. He squatted down and jumped as high as he could with every ounce of strength that he had, and he missed it by a foot.

He knew that he had to make it on the next try, or else he was dead. He wound up, jumped and just barely caught the branch. He scurried up to that first branch and began to climb. He kept going up and up for what seemed like an hour. Finally, he reached the top and what he saw shocked him.

He didn’t see the small stream, pond, river, or lake that he was looking for. There wasn’t a sea of trees in front of him either. In fact, he was near the end of the tree line. As tired as he was, he let out the first smile that he had since before all of this insanity began. He saw a barn. Not just any barn, this barn was bright green. This was his family’s barn. Green was his mom’s favorite color, and his dad painted it green as a surprise one year. Jeff always thought it was ridiculous, but for once he was glad to see that crazy colored barn. He knew that there was still a long way to go if he was going to make it through this, but at least he wasn’t going to be doing it alone anymore. He would have his family, and he would be home. The well had water; the chickens were laying eggs. He would have company, food, and water. He knew that he at least had a real chance now.

He made his way down the tree and kept walking north towards the farm. He didn’t know what was waiting for him, or if his family was even alive. The thought of the unknown terrified him, but he kept walking. His family had their share of fights before he left, but they never let him doubt that they loved him. He knew that if they were there and alive that things would be ok.

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