Read The Days and Months We Were First Born- the Unraveling for Free Online Page B
Authors: Christopher Hunter
couldn’t reach anyone.
Naturally, David was frantic. He went outside to get tested; and he was blown away by the scene. It was similar to what I saw: people in masks; soldiers and police throughout the crowd; plus utter confusion and drama from his neighbors.
He came up immune. Then he returned home, condensed his possessions to one suitcase, and set out for LaGuardia Airport, despite martial law.
He had to walk there. It took him several hours to make it through midtown, over the Ed Koch Bridge, and through Queens. Soldiers and police were everywhere, but they didn’t stop anyone from coming or going. They were only concerned with keeping order.
The airport was barricaded upon David’s arrival. But that didn’t deter him one bit—him or a few thousand others . The sizable crowd protested that they should be allowed to fly out of town. But the line of East American Soldiers, State Troopers, and NYPD held fast.
Eventually it grew hostile. Someone from the crowd threw a bottle of lye on one of the soldiers, and a storm of violence ensued.
The crowd rushed forward, and the line of defense opened fire. People fell all around David, either succumbed to rubber bullets, or stunned by sonar rays. The crowd reversed direction and scattered as best they could; but as the crowd retreated, many were trampled. David said he was helpless as he and hundreds of others were forced to step on and over the fallen. It was a matter of survival. To stop was to fall and die; to keep forward was a chance to live.
After a few terror-filled minutes, David escaped the danger. Then he returned home, shaken but intact.
A couple of days later, David finally heard from his sister, Calina. She said everyone was infected except for a few of his nieces and nephews. Calina said she drove to Portland from Los Angeles to see their parents, their brother, and two of their sisters. She also said they all planned to stay under one roof, likely at their parents, to wait out whatever happened. David told his sister he was immune, and he explained what had happened at the airport. Brother and sister talked for over half an hour. And then the phone went dead.
David said he couldn’t reach anyone after that, and he became depressed. Portland was too far. He didn’t know how to get there, or what to expect once he made it. So he remained in his home. He watched the news, did a lot of sleeping, did a lot of crying, and only went outside once to get a round of food rations on August 1 st . David stopped showering, he stopped shaving, and he was completely absorbed into his dark thoughts. He even contemplated suicide, but couldn’t quite take it to that extreme.
David said that his stupor lasted until the night of August 7 th . On that night, a group of thugs broke into his building. They were noisy and they were looking for victims. The apartment units had paper-thin walls, their greatest flaw, and David had excellent hearing.
A few neighbors were in their homes as the thugs invaded. Some screamed, some begged, and there were even a few neighbors who fought back, but it was of no use. It always ended with the victims shot, and the monstrous bastards bragging and ransacking afterwards.
Terrified, David improvised and found a way out. He grabbed a set of rope that he had from a rock-climbing expedition. He also grabbed his hunting knife. And he escaped onto his balcony with minutes, perhaps seconds to spare.
He said he leapt from balcony to balcony until he was well on the other side of the building. Then he tied the rope and lowered it to the ground. Fortunately for him, it was only four levels. He climbed down. And once he hit 35 th Street, he ran up Second Avenue, with the knife in hand, stoked with adrenaline.
He made it as far as 38 th Street before running into a group of our patrollers
***
David and I first met the next day. He was assigned to our unit to replace one of the men who had quit. We were in the middle of clearing an apartment on 91
Naturally, David was frantic. He went outside to get tested; and he was blown away by the scene. It was similar to what I saw: people in masks; soldiers and police throughout the crowd; plus utter confusion and drama from his neighbors.
He came up immune. Then he returned home, condensed his possessions to one suitcase, and set out for LaGuardia Airport, despite martial law.
He had to walk there. It took him several hours to make it through midtown, over the Ed Koch Bridge, and through Queens. Soldiers and police were everywhere, but they didn’t stop anyone from coming or going. They were only concerned with keeping order.
The airport was barricaded upon David’s arrival. But that didn’t deter him one bit—him or a few thousand others . The sizable crowd protested that they should be allowed to fly out of town. But the line of East American Soldiers, State Troopers, and NYPD held fast.
Eventually it grew hostile. Someone from the crowd threw a bottle of lye on one of the soldiers, and a storm of violence ensued.
The crowd rushed forward, and the line of defense opened fire. People fell all around David, either succumbed to rubber bullets, or stunned by sonar rays. The crowd reversed direction and scattered as best they could; but as the crowd retreated, many were trampled. David said he was helpless as he and hundreds of others were forced to step on and over the fallen. It was a matter of survival. To stop was to fall and die; to keep forward was a chance to live.
After a few terror-filled minutes, David escaped the danger. Then he returned home, shaken but intact.
A couple of days later, David finally heard from his sister, Calina. She said everyone was infected except for a few of his nieces and nephews. Calina said she drove to Portland from Los Angeles to see their parents, their brother, and two of their sisters. She also said they all planned to stay under one roof, likely at their parents, to wait out whatever happened. David told his sister he was immune, and he explained what had happened at the airport. Brother and sister talked for over half an hour. And then the phone went dead.
David said he couldn’t reach anyone after that, and he became depressed. Portland was too far. He didn’t know how to get there, or what to expect once he made it. So he remained in his home. He watched the news, did a lot of sleeping, did a lot of crying, and only went outside once to get a round of food rations on August 1 st . David stopped showering, he stopped shaving, and he was completely absorbed into his dark thoughts. He even contemplated suicide, but couldn’t quite take it to that extreme.
David said that his stupor lasted until the night of August 7 th . On that night, a group of thugs broke into his building. They were noisy and they were looking for victims. The apartment units had paper-thin walls, their greatest flaw, and David had excellent hearing.
A few neighbors were in their homes as the thugs invaded. Some screamed, some begged, and there were even a few neighbors who fought back, but it was of no use. It always ended with the victims shot, and the monstrous bastards bragging and ransacking afterwards.
Terrified, David improvised and found a way out. He grabbed a set of rope that he had from a rock-climbing expedition. He also grabbed his hunting knife. And he escaped onto his balcony with minutes, perhaps seconds to spare.
He said he leapt from balcony to balcony until he was well on the other side of the building. Then he tied the rope and lowered it to the ground. Fortunately for him, it was only four levels. He climbed down. And once he hit 35 th Street, he ran up Second Avenue, with the knife in hand, stoked with adrenaline.
He made it as far as 38 th Street before running into a group of our patrollers
***
David and I first met the next day. He was assigned to our unit to replace one of the men who had quit. We were in the middle of clearing an apartment on 91
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