Memories That Aren't Mine.

Well, humans finally did it. We went and started the final war, or so they say. In the blink of an eye, things changed. They say it wasn’t a state actor that caused the collapse but many smaller acts by terrorist cells. First they targeted oil pipelines. They hit the computer networks that ran them and shut them down. This caused prices to skyrocket across the US and eventually Canada, Mexico and farther out.

After that they hit power generation. They started in Texas, where their first test was blamed on a record cold snap. Later that same year, at the beginning of summer, Texans were asked to conserve electricity as multiple generation plants were supposedly down for maintenance. Well, that was a lie. The same group that hit the pipelines had brought down the power plants and grids. Within months they had perfected the attack, and bit by bit, the US and then the rest of the world went dark. But we didn’t know all that till later. Back then, we couldn’t get news from farther away than a couple days’ walk. No TV, no radio. Newspaper, which was on the verge of collapse before all this, is now a sought-after commodity. So much you can do with newspaper. Read it. Start a fire with it. And, well, many other uses best not discussed in polite company.

Many people died in that first month, primarily those who sat and waited for the government to come and save them. They stayed in the cities. They didn’t ration what food they had and were starving within a month. Without gas, without electricity, there was nothing bringing fresh food to those cities. Those of us that survived got out of the city within a few days of lights out.

When this all started, I was in Detroit on business. I was born and raised in Texas and wanted to be home as quick as I could. No place like home in a disaster. But in the early days most of us were sure the grid would be back up and running within days, a week or two at most. So I planned to hole up somewhere safe outside the city until transportation became available again.

I hit a sporting goods store and paid cash for a backpack, some dehydrated meals, a compass, a map, and a few other supplies. My father had always taught me to have some cash on hand for emergencies; after all, without electricity there was no swiping a credit card. And since money might be useless soon as well, at least for a while, I spent it all right there in the sporting goods store. Even bought a couple pairs of hiking boots to be safe. Then I started walking. Made my way to a small town, and not the first one I came to from the city. Camped out for a while and gathered what news I could.

It wasn’t good. Things seemed to be heading for Mad Max territory awful fast, and the prospect of returning to modern life anytime soon looked increasingly remote. I decided it was time to walk home.

I read somewhere that the average human weighed down with hiking gear walks about two miles per hour. It took me twenty-one days to get to Indianapolis from Detroit. If my map reading is right, it was a bit under 280 miles, so I guess two miles per hour might be a bit optimistic. I didn’t walk every waking moment, but it wasn’t far from. I don’t know what Indy was like before, but even in the short time since the change it’s become a madhouse. There were bodies rotting on lawns and gangs roving the city.

I tried to follow the highways as much as I could. It was weird seeing all the cars just stopped where they had run out of gas. Some locked tightly, others completely open and stripped of anything useful. I didn’t approach too many of them. I had everything I needed, after all, and I was always wary of it being a trap. From Indianapolis I hit out for St Louis. Two hundred fifty miles and another sixteen days.

Exploring St. Louis on my way through was interesting. I had always wanted to see the Arch, and there it was. I stood at one end and looked up until I got a little dizzy. It wasn’t as nice as it would have been a couple of months ago. Something had died nearby, and I had to keep swatting flies away.

In the suburbs something in a gutter caught my eye. It was this old gold locket. The pictures inside looked like the same woman twenty years apart. I don’t think it was, though; they looked similar but not the same. Probably mother and daughter, likely a Mother’s Day gift. I know it’s a small thing, but it helps pass the time while I’m walking. Just wondering who these two are. It’s easy to let my mind wander and make up stories about them. One day I’ll think about what they did for a living. The daughter looks like she may have been a teacher. I can see her in front of a classroom full of wide-eyed kids. Maybe the mother was a nurse, saving lives in an emergency room. The next day I’ll think the daughter looks like a police officer. I know all of this is foolish, but I like to think it helps keep me sane in this new world. What else do I have to do besides walk?

I never used to be one for walking. I loathed going to the gym. But now I walk along without even realizing how far I’ve gone, just making up stories in my head about the women in this locket. It’s tied to the strap of my backpack now. It just swings there as I walk. I think about what their lives must have been like and what they might be doing now. I make up new memories about them every day. Sometimes I’ll read a story in one of the precious few newspapers I find and wonder if it might be about them. I’ve been staring at it all day today as I walk. It’s funny how you can put part of your mind on autopilot to walk and let the rest of it do other things. As long as you keep your head up to look for danger as you go, you’re good.

I see a city coming up in the distance. Dropping the locket on its chain to swing from the pack strap, I pull out my map. I’m about nine days out of St Louis and have been a bit slower the last few days, so I figure I’ve done a bit over two hundred miles since then. If I’m right, this would be Springfield. I remember reading somewhere that Springfield had the world’s largest fork. I wonder if I can find it. I wonder if anyone is even looking for things like that anymore. I think I’ll camp here for the night; after all, in these times it’s best to enter a city well-rested if you enter at all. You never know what you’ll run into. And I guess I shouldn’t go looking for tourist traps if I want to be back in Texas before October. I’ve got around 420 miles to go.