Escape From the City

The Setting As They Travel

         Everywhere the eye could see there was debris, destruction, ashes, decay, and desolation. The further you got from the city, the less you saw smoke, burnt up buildings, and piles of rubble where multi-story buildings used to stand. The further from the city you were the more likely you’d see weeds, overgrown grass and shrubs. At least a sign of nature remained.
The highways and roads, the ones that were still passable, held little traffic. Fuel was hard to come by. Businesses and convenience stores along the rural roads were open some days, and some days not, depending on supplies and recent violence. People familiar with an area might knock on a locked door just to see if someone was there. The occupants, if any, would peak out to see if it was safe to answer.

         Silence was the main sound. A country kind of silence—wind, leaves rustling, rarely a bird, locusts. Sometimes, when Jim stopped the truck, he could hear a woodpecker in the distance. They like dead trees and peck holes for insects under the bark. The sound of his own engine was about the only thing he heard every day.

         The sun was so bright; the sky so blue; it was hard to believe there was so much death and emptiness below. Only the insects stirred as usual.

A Place to stop for the night

         The parking lot was once paved from the looks of it. There were several empty buildings, dilapidated. They were too tired to keep going. The town nearby was destroyed, even the small medical center on the outskirts. This was once a strip mall, a small one at that. There were some old trees over to the left. Some quiet houses off in the distance. Some cinder blocks were scattered to one side. A garage door was broken down from one building. Painted boards were leaning against it. Turned over empty trash cans and flattened cardboard lay scattered about. Animals probably had rummaged through them. Again all was quiet. No animals stirred. Anyone could be hiding in the waist high grass.

         Jim sat in the truck, motor turned off, to watch and see what would happen. Half an hour passed. No one stirred, no vehicles went by. He got out of the truck and stood. Then he walked around, alert. He went into the garage and made an inspection. It smelled of oil and gas and dust. When he tried to move the garage door, dust flew everywhere. It may have been a while since the place was used. The floor was clear of nails and such, so he made the decision to move the truck inside for the night, to avoid drawing further attention.

         The sun was setting behind those houses now. Still no sign of life anywhere. He pulled the truck inside and maneuvered the broken door over the opening, so at least to partly disguise his presence. Only someone familiar with the area would notice the difference in the door.

The Farm (pre-dominant setting)

         At the top of the hill a house, probably built in the 70’s, sat in a man-made hill. You know the eco-friendly kind, with soil and grass on the roof and two sides completely underground, and one side half under in a slant. That kept temperatures somewhat even and conserved fuel. There were solar collectors in the front windows, but now were partly hidden by the trees, so they wouldn’t be effective. The house hadn’t been maintained in some time. The front needed paint, and grass overgrew all around it. Beyond the end of the well-used driveway, out of sight from the highway, there were grapevines, apple trees, peach trees, and pecan trees. There was a hen house, a water pump, a small fenced garden, and blackberry bushes. It wasn’t neatly lined up, but scattered about. The hen house was in prime condition, cement floors, fenced in with cement barriers at the bottom to keep the foxes and coyotes out. The roosts could slide around for proper cleaning. They do make a terrible smell and need regular cleaning. But the solar panel on the roof was the smartest. It provided heat in the winter at no cost, and ran the fan in the summer. They would have eggs all year and the occasional chicken dinner. In that yard you could hear clucking as long as there was daylight.

         The neighboring farm must have had a cow. He couldn’t see it, but he heard the lowing. And an occasional oink. There must be a serious animal owner next door, but his place was big and also “fenced” off with poplars. They broke the wind, stopped erosion, and allowed privacy, which apparently was working for these two neighboring farms. They had been safe from destruction so far.

         Jim found a tool shed with a heavy duty lock further away. Then he discovered under some piles of branches, doors in the ground. It was a root cellar, full of potatoes and onions. It must have been checked regularly to be so clean and free of vermin. But if he had seen the doors beneath the branches, so would some wanderer. He covered them back up more carefully, disguising the handles.

         The he noticed a pumpkin patch. Pie pumpkins like his grandmother used to grow. And squash and watermelon vines. The season was over for all but the winter squash and the pumpkins, but the vines weren’t cleared away yet. He would do that.

         He walked back towards the house and noticed for the first time that not all the flower pots were dead flowers or junk pots. There were basil and chives and oregano. He shook a basil plant then breathed deeply. He loved that smell. He sniffed his hands. Ahh.

         This place was very cleverly disguised. Someone would write it off as a poor man’s farm, a place of decay and waste. But it was full of life. It was organized and hidden. It appeared to have nothing to offer passersby. It didn’t, except for food, which was better than riches to many. And for him, as long as the owner let him stay, it offered security and peace.