September 4, 2005

I decided to head to Chicago first. I made that trip all the time when I was in high school and college. It's just a little more than two hours and if you have a carload of friends, it's an absolute blast. Despite the fact that this trip is very, very different, and it's been years since I made the trip with any sort of frequency, it's a path that still feels familiar. It's not much, but I desperately need something familiar right now.

I left just after dawn and figured I'd make it by midmorning, but it's now late afternoon and I have no idea how far away the city is at this point.

I didn't really anticipate roadblocks. That was probably naïve of me. I suppose it didn't really occur to me how the rest of the country reacted to the virus…bacteria…I'm still not entirely clear. Most reports said it was a virus. At any rate, some places put up literal roadblocks, though I'm not entirely sure if what their purpose was. Any time I run into those, I've had to detour around them, going way out of the way just so I can try to stay on track. I've come across other types of roadblocks, too, most of them piles of cars. It's never just a two car collision, either—it always looks like ten to twenty cars all in a heap of twisted metal, like some drivers thought if they rammed the other cars hard enough, they'd make it through. At any rate, my best guess is that they're the result of people just trying to get somewhere safe. I haven't seen any bodies yet; then again, I'm not looking too closely for them, either. I haven't come across anyone else driving yet, which is terrifying and also a relief. As much as I think I'd like to find someone—anyone—it's also a really scary thought. I don't know what's become of the rest of the people out there. Are they like me, just trying to get to a destination? Are they making new homes, making small settlements and communities? Are they lawless and ready to attack any vulnerable person they come across? Will people behave in real life the way they do in movies about the end of the world?

I shudder and redirect my focus. I try to do nothing but think about the road in front of me, but it's not unlike being stuck in my parents' house. I have a lot of time by myself, a lot of time where there's nothing but silence. It's hard not to think about everything that's happened up to this point, and what could possibly happen as I make this trip.

Leaving my parents' house was harder than I expected, and in more than just the obvious ways. I was, of course, scared out of my mind. It's one thing to plan to drive halfway across the country by yourself when you have no idea what's waiting for you out there. It's an entirely different thing to execute it. Beyond that, though, as if that's not enough, I was leaving my parents' house very likely for the last time ever. All of my childhood memories…gone. I wanted to be able to pack up the whole house and take it with me. Instead, I had to settle for a few mementos, things that would be easy to carry and not take up too much space. I took some family pictures and old books and the original copy of my birth certificate—I'm not entirely sure why, but it felt important. I brought a few old pieces of jewelry that I'd been attached to as a kid, and even though I figured I wouldn't need it, I found as many of the stashes of money my parents had around the house as I could. I doubt cash has any value at this point, not if all the stores I come across look like the Walmart in Madison, but I figured it wasn't going to hurt to have it. I also left a letter for my brother on the off chance he ever makes it to Wisconsin. I got to talk to him a few times in the late winter and early spring, though he hadn't been able to make it in for our grandparents' funeral. His wife's job relocated them to Alaska about a year ago and it was hard to get in touch with him, even by email. By the time our parents got sick, it'd been weeks since I'd been able to reach him. After they died, I sent him an email about it in case, so at least he'd know, but I have no idea if he ever got to read it. Truthfully, I have no idea if he and his family are even alive. I don't know if the virus spread to his part of Alaska or if he was remote enough to not be touched by it. Even if he's alive, I don't know how he, my sister-in-law, and their kids could make it from that part of the world to the continental US. So, I detailed as much as I could in the letter I left for him, telling him everything that had happened, and that I was heading back to DC in the hopes that I'd find someone. It's a long shot, but if he's alive, at least he'll know where I tried to go.

I don't know what I'll find in DC at this point, or if I can even make it there—no. I have to mentally correct myself. I will make it there. I can't let myself think negatively about it. It's way too easy to fall down that rabbit hole. I just have to take the trip slowly. Obviously, if today is any indication, I'm going to have to backtrack quite a bit, which worries me because of the amount of gas that wastes. I was lucky to be able to find a couple of working pumps before I left but I have no idea how many more of those I'll come across. I don't want think too much yet about what happens when I finally run out of gas.

Still, getting back to DC is my only real hope right now. Maybe I'll find someone bunkered down there. Maybe I'll find some indication of what's happened to CJ and Toby and Leo and Charlie and the President and First Lady…and Josh. Maybe they're still there. It's a long shot, but it's all I have. After all, they have the White House at their disposal. Obviously I don't know the extent of it but I know they have areas dedicated to hiding and protecting people. Maybe they're all safe, waiting until life can be figured out again.

They're what I have to focus on. Finding my friends and colleagues, and reaching my destination before the cold weather starts to hit. It's only early September now, and the drive from Wisconsin to DC normally only took me a couple of days if I stopped overnight. Since it's taken me the better part of a day to drive a little over a hundred miles, I don't know if that bodes well for the rest of the journey. I've already decided that I'd like to avoid driving at night; with no street lights or ambient light of any sort, the only illumination I'd have would be the car's headlights. Aside from the fact that they won't give me much notice if an animal darted out in front of me or if I ran into some huge roadblock, it'd be sure to let anyone looking know someone was out and about. If I'm going to run into people, I'd much rather do it during the day when at least I can see what I'm up against.

I pass a sign letting me know that I'm a mere twenty miles outside of Chicago and let out a deep sigh. Finally. I passed Rockford three times earlier, and that used to be my halfway point of the trip, and it's been a few hours since even then. If I'm extraordinarily lucky, I won't have any more setbacks before I reach the city. I'm hoping to get an idea of what's been going on there and find somewhere to settle for a night or two. Maybe I'll be able to find a few more stores with supplies or a gas station with working pumps. It'll be worth a shot.

I'm coming at the city from a different angle than usual, but it's not long before the skyline comes into view and I feel a small sense of relief. At this point, I'm happy to have made it this far. While I never lived in Chicago, it really is familiar enough to me that I feel comfortable here. There are areas that I spent enough time in that I don't feel like I'll be completely lost. It's something.

Still, I feel myself slowing down from the snail's pace I was already driving. The edges of the city are becoming clearer, but so are some signs of life. I roll down my window a few inches and none of the usual sounds of a city can be heard. I don't think that life has gone on like normal here, but considering Chicago is much more populated than Madison, it makes sense that more people survived.

My heart starts pounding in my throat and I stop the car completely, trying to calm myself. It's been about four months since I encountered another person and it's a complete surprise to find the notion terrifies me. I have no idea what sort of people I'll find here. It doesn't matter who they were before, just who they've become since and I suddenly realize I don't know if I can trust anyone right now. That goes against everything in my nature. I know at times in my life I've been way too trusting of others, but it's just not in me to see the worst in people. It's one of the things that helps me work so well with Josh—he thinks everyone he encounters is a villain and needs to be kept at arm's length, and I can usually manage to find the good in them, helping Josh to see he can find common ground. But now…like this…I don't know that I can do it. I don't know that I can drive into even a sparsely populated city and expect to come out unscathed. Not yet.

As I stare at the skyline, I notice some wisps of smoke drifting upward and it makes my stomach twist even more. I don't know what that is. It could be trashcan fires, it could be the tail end of a building that's been burnt to the ground. I have no way of knowing. All I know is that I don't want to know.

I look down at my gas tank—a little over half full. It's the late afternoon but I still have a couple of hours of daylight left. I'm sure I can find a smaller town that might feel safer in that amount of time. It feels worth the risk.

I glance around me, finally spotting what looks like an exit not too far behind me. I pull across almost a dozen lanes as I turn the car around and head back from where I came. The exit sign says Cicero. I shudder a little involuntarily, but comfort myself with the knowledge that I'm not actually going there. Of course, Cicero could be lovely now. Still, it's a little too close to close to Chicago for my liking, but it's a direction to go in.

My stomach unwinds just a little bit as I start to put some distance between myself and the city.