The woman answered, a little annoyed, “Bears. What else would we be shooting at?” She immediately turned back toward the dock, her head pivoting as it searched for the massive mammals.
Wyatt didn’t buy it. “David, what’s going on?”
Without taking his eyes from the shore, David responded, “I dunno, Dad. I’m not sure they were bears, but they were pretty big and very fast. I think I hit one of them.”
“How big?”
“Bigger than the average dog, I’d say. Dark brown fur – very fast and the one stood on its hind legs. I bet it was over three feet tall.”
By now, several people were awake and gathering on nearby boats. Most of the men had guns, and everyone wanted to know what all the fuss was about. Again, the woman who had first spotted the creatures turned, an in an annoyed voice instructed the crowd, “Shush now – we’re killing bears over here.”
Wyatt rolled his eyes, tired of the whole thing. “David, come on with me. Show me where you think you hit one of them. I’ll grab a flashlight.”
Before the two men could climb off of the cruiser, the sleepy captain of a neighboring vessel yelled out, “Who shot my boat? Somebody shot my boat!” Wyatt almost laughed - the image of the boater standing in his underwear and pointing at a hole in his fiberglass just seemed so out of place.
Wyatt put his hand on David’s shoulder, “This is getting out of hand. Did you shoot his boat?”
David immediately shook his head, vigorously denying the charge.
“No, sir. But I know who did.”
Someone, Wyatt couldn’t tell who, responded. “I shot at your boat. You had a bear on your swim platform. Did you want me to let you get eaten by the bear?”
Before Wyatt could comment, the woman screamed again, hopping up and down and pointing toward the shore. “There’s another one.” Her husband fired again.
Two flashlights zeroed in on the spot and Wyatt couldn’t believe his eyes. In the beam’s weak glare, he watched the backside of a large, furry butt waddling away at a rapid lope. “What the dickens,” Wyatt said to no one in particular. It actually looked like a small bear from the rear.
Wyatt mumbled again, “This is turning into a circus.”
Flashlights were now probing the shore in search of attacking wildlife. The whole dock looked like a WWII city using spotlights to search the sky for enemy bombers. Wyatt raised his voice over the dim of the crowd, “Hey! Everybody stop shooting! Right now – no more shooting. David and I are going to go over and check it out. We are NOT bears.”
Some wisecracker at the back of the crowd did his best Yogi Bear imitation, “Ummm…Mister Ranger, sir, I was just looking for a pic-ah-nic basket.” The remark eased the tension somewhat. Someone else added, “Hey, Boo Boo - let’s go check out those boats.”
As the two men scrambled toward shore, Morgan met her husband with a concerned look. “We’ve not had great luck with the local wildlife lately. Are you sure you want to chance being eaten by a bear?”
Wyatt rolled his eyes and passed by Morgan without further comment. David and he climbed onto the concrete wall of the dock, now tentatively walking to the location where David thought he had scored a hit.
There were knee high weeds and underbrush in the area, and it took them a while to find the body. Sure enough, David had plugged the offending animal. David rolled the beast over, and Wyatt found himself looking at the biggest raccoon he’d ever seen.
On a scale of raccoons, this guy had been a monster. Wyatt estimated it would stand almost four feet tall on its back legs. The creature must have weighed over 35 pounds. David nudged the body with his rifle barrel, attempting to verify it was truly dead.
“That’s not a possum, son – that’s a raccoon.”
David looked up and played along with his father’s sarcasm. “Really? I’m so glad you’re along, Mister Ranger, sir.”
Before they could return and report there weren’t any bears, shouts of alarm rose yet again from the boats, excited voices and flashlight beams seemingly everywhere.
Wyatt and David rushed back to the dock to find two more of the animals silhouetted by the lights. They were huge! David raised his rifle and Wyatt stopped him. “What are you doing?”
“Dad, those things will eat us out of house and home. They will chew dock lines, electrical wire and eat every bit of food we have. They’re like 30 pound ultra-smart rats.”
Wyatt didn’t like shooting things that weren’t shooting at him. While he thought David was exaggerating just a little, his point was valid. Still, shooting a wild animal in these circumstances?
Before Wyatt could respond, the animals ran back into the underbrush and out of sight.
Great, just great
, Wyatt thought.
That’s all we need. We’ve got the world falling apart all around us, and now we are besieged by racc-zillas coming out of the woods. What’s next?
New York City, New York
March 10, 2017
The sun breaking around the curtains woke Helen. She managed a glance at her watch – 6:47 a.m. Pushing back the multiple layers of blankets, she gasped as the cold air overpowered the snug, warm cocoon of her bed. The frost around the window confirmed what she already knew – it was going to be another cold one today. Glancing down at West 36
th
street, she could see people were already up and milling around.
Ya gotta love the city that never sleeps
, she thought. Twenty stories below and three blocks down, she could see the line was already forming at the FEMA distribution center. Hopefully, the trucks would be on time today and not cause a long wait - again.
Helen dressed quickly. She mused at how simple life had become since everything fell apart. She didn’t have to worry about her outfit being too heavy or too light. Her “fashion statement” varied little day to day. These days, she donned multiple layers of clothing even if she didn’t need to venture outside. Thinking about the cold gave her a moment of panic as she realized the buckets might be frozen again. Rushing to the bathroom, she was relieved to find only a thin layer of ice on top. She used the facilities, not bothering to pour any water into the back of the toilet – it was an unnecessary waste, unless she had to flush solids.
Using the handle of her toothbrush, she poked a hole in the ice and stirred the frosty water around. She had run out of toothpaste days ago and now brushed with only water. She seemed to feel better after performing even basic hygiene.
Glancing in the mirror, she felt a pang of guilt. She had used extra water yesterday to wash her hair. The combination of her scalp itching and one of her bouts of depression made the splurge mandatory. She
just couldn’t help it. She would hide it though. She would tuck her still shiny tresses under a hoodie. These days, simple things like that made you stand out. Clean hair or clean clothes could cause someone to question where the water, detergent, or shampoo came from. Things could really become edgy if people thought you might have more. The situation could become dangerous if they decided they wanted to take it from you.
Helen made her way to the kitchenette and nearly tripped over the bag of garbage that had gathered. She had meant to take it down with her yesterday, but had been behind schedule and procrastinated performing the chore. The garbage heaps smelled so rancid she loathed even passing close to them. One lady in the food line a few days before had shown Helen where a rat had supposedly bitten her on the ankle. The woman had warned about getting too close to the huge piles of rubbish gathering in the empty lot down the street.
On the counter were the remains of last night’s meal. Helen sighed as she realized there wouldn’t be any breakfast this morning. She had left the unfinished portion of the military MRE (Meal Ready to Eat) uncovered. The roaches would have no doubt visited the food, and there had been warnings about the insects spreading disease posted all over the city. Without the constant cycle of spraying, the roaches were taking over Manhattan.
Glancing again at her watch, she knew it was time to get going. Dropping off the trash would take 20 minutes, and that would still put her way deep in the line to get food. Rushing to the bathroom, she consolidated her water into a single container. With her empty buckets in one hand and the bag of trash in the other, she left her apartment and began the considerable hike down the 20 flights of stairs.
The stairwell was especially busy this morning. The footfalls of several tenants echoed in the cathedral- like openness, most of them probably heading off to receive their handouts of food and water.
As she reached the 14
th
floor, Helen had to sidestep quickly as another tenant’s trash bag had torn, spilling the contents down several steps. She couldn’t help but wonder if rats would climb 14 stories to eat. She supposed they would. After all, she did.
When she reached the first floor, she pushed open the emergency handle and entered the building’s modest lobby. Passing the row of mailboxes made her nostalgic for the normal life of just a few months ago. It had been so long since there was any postal delivery; she wasn’t sure where she had put the mailbox key.
Helen paused at the doublewide glass door that signaled the entrance to the building. It was always wise to scrutinize who was loitering on the street these days. The buckets in her hand were valuable, and there had been rumors of people being killed for less.
She exhaled when she noticed the National Guardsmen were on the next corner this morning. They looked like science fiction robots with their uniforms, helmets, and black guns. Seeing their breath streaming away from their faces enhanced the creepy effect. If they kept to their normal routine, they would be posted there all day, and that meant there wouldn’t be any trouble.
Perhaps things are looking up
, she thought.
Rushing out into brisk winter air, Helen hurried toward the trash heap. She passed by a young soldier keeping vigil at the corner, and he smiled at her.
I bet he’s lonely
, she thought. Without thinking, she paused at the curb and glanced at the crossing signal. She had to grin at the habit – there hadn’t been any signals for a long time, let alone any traffic to dodge.
When she reached the other side, a different guardsman whistled at her.
I bet he’s
really
lonely
, she mused. Paying no attention to the flirt, she hurried down the street to dispose of her garbage. She made it to within two blocks when a wall of stench assaulted her nose. It was too far to hold her breath the entire way, but she tried. The odor was so overpowering, she knew it would hang on her clothing for hours.
I wonder if that solider would whistle at me if he could smell this
, she thought.
The vacant lot was almost completely full of trash bags of all colors. Weeks of rotting garbage festered in the open air. Small rivers of goo ran from the dump and into the gutter, slowly making its way toward the nearest sewer drain. Helen gagged once, but managed to toss her bag onto the ever-growing pile.
A woman leaning from a nearby open window was watching Helen. After the bag settled on the pile, the lady yelled out, “Thanks for that. I hope the new dump is next to your apartment.”
Ignoring the taunt, Helen retreated toward the elementary school where the FEMA trucks would deliver some sort of rations. She hoped today would be cheese and bread. After that, it was just a few blocks to where the water trucks would fill her buckets.
The line at the elementary school was longer than she expected. Hundreds of people formed a single file that snaked for almost six blocks. At every intersection, a soldier oversaw the crowd. At every other corner, a military vehicle was parked. Helen was glad they were there. When the FEMA trucks arrived with their first delivery, there had been a lot of trouble. Some people didn’t want to wait in line, while others thought they should be given extra food. A single punch lead to out and out rioting in the street. Helen had witnessed one man pull a gun and start shooting. The military guys would keep the peace.
Helen scurried to the back of the line and took her place. The trucks weren’t there yet, so it would be a while before the line started moving. Ten minutes after arriving, she glanced behind her to see the line had now grown, extending another full block in length.
If those trucks don’t show up soon
, she thought,
there’s going to be trouble. I can just feel it.
It was smart for a single girl not to make eye contact. It had always been that way in New York, but especially now. Helen couldn’t remember the last time she had seen a policeman. Gunshots were an almost nightly occurrence. As she waited for the line to start moving, she could hear the conversation of several men behind her.
“I had to hike all the way over from 52
nd
this morning. I waited in line all morning, and the trucks didn’t show up yesterday at all. It looks like all the people from that area had the same idea, and the line here rivals a Coney Island roller coaster. I’m going to be here all day,” said one.
Another man asked, “How did everyone react when they figured out there wasn’t going to be any delivery?”
“Oh, there was plenty of foul language and upset people. The army guys put it down pretty quick. Ya know, I’m surprised they still maintain control. There ain’t that many of ’em. I heard they ain’t even issued bullets.”