Chapter 2

Everything Falls Apart

Summary: The Beginning of the End.

I didn't sleep well, I woke up several times in the night. Sleeping with my old Cuddle-Me Cathy doll didn't help. I ended up leaving my bedroom TV on the Dingo Channel, airing older shows in the background, as I woke and slept and woke and slept. At least it was something distracting when I was awake. When I did sleep, I didn't really dream. Those times I did…

I don't even want to try to remember my dreams, much less put them down on paper. An example was me as a toddler lost in a city of rotting corpses as I cried out for "Mommy" and "Daddy". That was the most gentle dream…

Tuesday morning, I woke up still exhausted. My sleep, such as it was, did little to revive me. I think I was more exhausted than I had been before I went to bed.

Dad still wasn't home and Mom and Trina were no better - they both still had raging fevers but they at least ate some of the soup.

I called Dad and left a voice mail that I was skipping school and taking them to the hospital.

I managed to get them both into Mom's car - it was a black SUV that I nicknamed Mariska after the lead actress on 'Law and Order SVU', a long-running crime show on the NBC television network at the time. Thanks to the two large, bench seats, both of them could lay down so I did just that and laid them on the seats, like beds; Mom on the seat immediately behind me and Trina on the further one. I put some things in the large back storage space in case they were needed at the hospital – clothes, purses and their cell phones and tablets. I was being hopeful that they would wake up and could at least have something to communicate with.

Once I had them settled, I took a deep breath and backed out of the garage. I had never driven anything this big and I was nervous. Even so, I drove them over to the nearest medical center.

Surprising me after my nightmares and horrible imaginings during the night, the world looked pretty much the same as any Tuesday morning. A line of cars at the Starbucks drive-thru, another at McDonald's and the usual cars parked in the JetBrew lot, except I didn't see Jade's classic ride, an old muscle car. I think I remember it was a Challenger, like the car Steve McQueen chased during the greatest chase scene in movies, 'Bullitt'.

As I passed Hollywood Arts, I saw it was locked up. There was a notice on the door but I couldn't read it from the street and I wouldn't stop with my family in the car. I knew it wasn't good though.

I then remembered hearing, on the local news the night before, that school had been suspended throughout the Southland until the epidemic passed. At the time, I was too freaked out by all the other news.

The hospital was something else again. Andre had gotten to whatever hospital he took his grandmother the day before. Now…

It was crazy! There were buses – cop-talk for ambulances - backed up from the ER entrance out to the street. The three ambulance bays were full, two and three-deep while other buses were waiting for a berth with flashing lights, and occasional horns or sirens - when the EMTs got impatient. In addition, cars were scattered around, even on the grass, where people abandoned them to get their loved ones inside. Cops and hospital security were trying to control the chaos but I could see it was just going to get worse.

Before I got trapped in that mess, I drove across the lawn and back on to the street then headed towards the next closest hospital. It was even worse so I headed up into the Valley. I found two hospitals, one in Sherman Oaks and the other in Van Nuys, but they were as bad as first two I visited on the other side of the Hollywood Hills. A clinic in Reseda was by far the worse. As I pulled up close to the place, I heard gunshots! I quickly got out of there.

While I tried to find another option, I happened to pass PetMergency. It was a veterinary clinic but, even so, it was a chaotic mess as people tried desperately to find alternatives to the over-crowded medical centers.

I could waste time continuing east towards Pasadena but I seriously doubted conditions would be better.

By now I was starting to panic. I pulled to the side of the road, my hands tightly gripping the steering wheel while my heart was racing and I was gasping as I was having trouble breathing. Forcing the panic down with deep, slow breaths, I started to think of alternatives again.

Mom spoke up. She had been awake for a while but I didn't know and I actually let out a little shriek. Her voice was raspy and low as she chuckled at my scare then said, "I'm sorry, sweetheart. But Tori, it's hopeless. These places are all inundated. We can try again when things calm down. Just take us home, baby."

"You sure, Mom? I can go to the USC Med Center or UCLA's…"

A warm, dry hand reached from the back seat and settled on my arm, "Trust me baby. They're as bad or worse. I'd rather be home in my own bed anyway."

Nodding I got it together and drove towards a Walgreen's down the street. "I'm going to stop and get some medicine anyway."

"Okay." Mom fell back on the seat behind me, her breathing slowed and I knew she was out of it again even as I pulled into the parking lot.

The Walgreens was another madhouse as were others and the CVS pharmacies - almost as crazy at the ERs and clinics. Still not as bad as the drug store scene in 'Contagion' - yet. The difference from Starbucks to Walgreens was incredible – in one people were patiently waiting for their coffee fix and the other was a near riot zone with quantities of beer, wine and hard liquor on hand to fuel the fire.

Heading west and south again, passing through an older part of one of the myriad towns in the Valley - I was so messed up I wasn't sure which one – I saw a small, independent, corner drug store. It didn't look nearly as wild as the other stores I'd passed. By about half.

This was a small, old-fashioned drug store, it was less than a fourth the size of a regular Walgreens or CVS. No toys, food, alcohol, cosmetics, seasonal crap, not even candy or gum but, like most stores in California, they did sell lottery tickets. There was also a small spinner rack of greeting cards – mainly get well cards – and another small rack of newspapers near the cashier. That included that day's LA Times. The Tuesday edition turned out to be the last issue published. It was noticeably thinner than usual for a weekday paper, I saw.

Most of the store was over-the-counter remedies and a selection of ambulatory devices (collapsible wheelchairs, walkers and canes, among other things) along one wall. The pharmacy, in the back of the store, was packed with yelling, screaming people - almost as insane as the hospitals and brand-name pharmacies.

With no real prescriptions, I wasn't going to waste my time in that mess. I grabbed as much over-the-counter stuff as I could (didn't take much effort, a lot of the shelves were nearly empty or completely ransacked) and waited for the sole register. That took nearly a half-hour thanks to others who had the same idea. Not to mention the people still buying lottery tickets.

Lottery tickets!? Unbelievable!

Finally, I paid for everything using Mom's card – her PIN (personal identification number) was their anniversary. (Since tech collapsed years ago, I'm not worried about sharing Mom's PIN). I was actually afraid of what I might find in Mariska but, fortunately, both Mom and Trina were still sleeping. I quickly drove home.

Once I got them back into bed, I got some of the meds into Mom and Trina after I got them back in bed. Since they were awake, more or less, I actually got them to take some more warmed-up soup. Some more of the banana-peanut butter sandwiches too. Later, I pulled their clothes and things out of the back of Mariska.

I tried to text my friends, then tried to call but only got voice mails. The Slap had no updates since the last time I checked my cell phone two hours before while I was in line at the pharmacy. Another indication how bad it was getting.

What I didn't expect was how soon it would be before I didn't think about the loss of things like Facebook, Twitter, the Slap or even just the internet. I mean, that was pretty much my whole life – our lives. My friends and I and all the rest of our generation of post-Millennials. But the end of the world inevitably ended up taking precedence. It didn't care about Old Timers, Greatest Generation, Baby Boomers, Gen-Xers or Millennials; blacks, whites, Hispanic, Asian, Native American or Arab; straight, gay, lesbian, bi, trans or pan-gender, Democrat, Republican, Independent, Communist, Socialist or any other designation you can come up with.

Shutting off my PearPhone, and mentally and physically exhausted after the hectic day and the relatively sleepless night before, I fell onto the couch and was soon asleep. It wasn't even six o'clock. Sometime later, Dad woke me up. I jumped up and hugged him like I hadn't since I was a little girl. I sobbed into his chest as he held me tightly, whispering to me.

I finally collected myself and Dad made me eat a sub sandwich and chips he brought from an old-school deli that was still open near the station house. They even had those big dill pickles that I loved which he brought.

Dad was in uniform I saw as my tears had darkened the light blue blouse. He hadn't worn a uniform, except for special events - which normally required dress blues - since he made detective when I was in eighth grade four years before. I finally asked why.

"Everyone's in uniform and body armor. We have to supplement the shrinking staff and to let people know who to turn to - or who to shoot." Dad added the last with a forced laugh, but I knew it wasn't just a bit of the dark humor cops were known for. There was more to it that I didn't want to explore.

"Dad, I tried to take them to a hospital but… It was crazy and… Up in Reseda, someone was shooting and…"

"Sssh… It's okay, kiddo. Hospitals are madhouses now. And they're only going to get worse. Clinics, pharmacies, any place that handles any kind of medicine." I nodded, remembering PetMergency and that local pharmacy I found. "Thank God you didn't go the USC Med Center or UCLA."

"Why?"

"Just do yourself a favor and avoid the campuses, especially USC. They're…" He paused with a haunted look in his eyes.

"What, Daddy?" I was calling him Daddy which I haven't done in years. But now I needed him to be my daddy. To be that big man who took care of me when I was little and scared.

"It's…bad. Really bad. Trust me, Tori. Stay away from USC. And Chavez Ravine."

"Chavez? Why would I go there? Baseball is suspended," I countered, completely confused.

"It has nothing to do with the Dodgers. Now eat." The last was an order stated in his light-hearted, joking but commanding voice.

While I ate, he looked in on Mom and Trina. It didn't take long to scarf down that sub sandwich. (A sub was a sandwich of various cheeses and several different thinly sliced meat, mustard, mayonnaise, and seasoning in an Italian style loaf of bread.) Well, half of it – it was a foot-long so I put the other half in the fridge. But, God, it was good!

I had no idea I was that hungry!

And I almost inhaled the pickle.

Coming downstairs with a solemn visage, I saw that he had been crying. He said he didn't have long but we sat and talked. Of course, it wasn't our typical light-hearted father-daughter chat.

"Sweetie, this Fever thing... It's about to be declared a pandemic. More than a little late but...whatever. Anyway, things are going bad. I don't know how bad it will get, but I expect the worst and I want you ready. You know where I keep the spare Magnum, my shotgun, your great-grandfather's M-1, his Colt .45 automatic and the Luger he took off the SS soldier?"

I nodded, those guns got my great-grandfather through the European combat during the Second World War from Normandy through Germany's surrender.

He shook his head, "Actually, that doesn't matter, we're getting them out of storage…

"I've made sure you know how to shoot and handle them safely. They are all in excellent shape and there's plenty of ammo for each. If you do have to use any of them, remember to clean them regularly like I showed you. And remember that Lugers had a propensity to jam."

"Guns? Ammo? Daddy, should I be scared? 'Cuz I am."

"Good. That's a good thing. Be scared. That way you'll stay sharp. But don't let it get control of you. Don't panic! Control the fear. You need to control the fear. It'll keep you alert. Let it give you strength. You're already strong. Stronger than you know, I think... No! Stronger than I know you are! You've been the strength to this family and your friends for so long. Be that strength for yourself."

"What's going on? I mean, what exactly is happening? Do you know anything more than what I've seen on TV?"

"The CDC and USAMRIID, I know you know who they are from your morbid research last year," he laughed, again darkly but I joined in. It did feel good, until Dad went on, "Anyway, they are both working with the L.A. County Health Department, as well as the various state health and safety departments, and have briefed us – the cops, fire department and EMTs – on what is going on. I'm not supposed to tell you any of this but I'm far, far less scared of official reprimands than I am of not warning you about what to expect.

"The CDC really doesn't have a clue what to do to fight this. USAMRIID claims they isolated the virus but… I can't help but think they're just blowing smoke to cover up the fact that they have no idea what's really going on either. It's all happening too fast…"

Dad's voice trailed off for moment. Then he shook his head and went on, "The virus is like a bizarre, amped-up version of hemorrhagic fever, at least in its ferocity. I saw a printed report one of the CDC crew accidentally dropped. It stated the Fever was like a combination of dengue fever combined with Ebola – to a point. With Ebola, the blood platelet levels drop severely, the body's temp grows, the immunization system collapses and the inner organs start to liquefy and slough out as the high body temperature broils those organs.

"But the Fever is different. No real hemorrhaging or tissue death until the damage caused by the high fever itself is done. This fever literally burns out the brain. But if the body is somehow still alive, then the tissue liquefaction increases geometrically… I know you know that large scale viral outbreaks of Ebola, other hemorrhagic fevers, or the pox viruses, like smallpox, are considered hot. Those are all candles in the wind. This is supernova hot. At the risk of repeating myself, the Spanish Influenza outbreak back in 1918 was like a candle in the wind compared to this. A thousand times worse than the Black Death. But this is far worse since it took two years for the Spanish Flu to infect so many and the Plague took decades to depopulate Europe then...

"The agent that spreads the disease was never determined. At least not yet but I'm not holding my breath. Most scientists believed it was mosquito-born but that was the usual, easy culprit - given the number of real diseases that mosquitoes spread. Some blame fleas but, like the mosquito theory, didn't take into account how fast it spreads across the oceans. Or the outbreaks in cold climates. Most likely, the ones who thought it was airborne or passed by tactile or liquid transfer are correct. Given the rapidity and the distances involved, it's probable that it's a tactile transfer. People travelling out of the infected regions to the unaffected areas are undoubtedly carrying it without realizing it.

"A touch, a sneeze, a cough… Possibly even just a belch or a fart could pass it along."

Dad and I giggled, fart jokes always got us to laugh even as Mom and Trina thought there was something wrong with us. That oddly timed giggle helped lighten the darkness settling around us. For a moment.

"Um...the CDC hasn't acknowledged this but the mortality rate looks to be over 95%. A virologist from UCLA's Medical Center actually thinks it could be even worse. Well over ninety-nine and some big fractional percent. She even suggested that only one in a thousand might survive... She said that if that's the case, the world's population will be lower than any time since around 4000 BC. Roughly seven million people worldwide. Remember, the planet's population is over seven and a quarter billion now. Well, pre-pandemic...

"Basically, if you took the current L.A. population of 3-plus million plus, you could scatter that twice over the planet after this runs it's course."

The details Dad was describing were lost on me outside of what it meant to me. I sobbed, "Oh God. What about Mom... Trina?"

Holding me tightly on the couch, I was clasping just as hard, Dad's breath hitched for the first time that I actually noticed. And his voice got very hoarse as he looked away from me. "I... Um…I don't want you to get your hopes up, sweetheart. A very, very few recover but those that do… Most recoveries only last a few days, maybe three or four days at best. Maybe less... Maybe more in some cases. An extreme few actually seem to truly recover. Again, we're talking less than a micro-fraction of one-eighth percent of the infected."

"And..." I took a deep breath to try to keep the panic at bay that was, again, threatening to overwhelm me even as I tried to accept the horrible conclusion. I was trying to understand but I still had to ask, "What about me? And you?"

"We may be among the very, very few who have a natural immunity. We've both been exposed but haven't developed any symptoms. And both of us should have by now. But I'm not sure that's necessarily a good thing.

"As I said, more or less, things are going to go south soon, figuratively. Well, further south. Literally, it'll be dog-eat-dog for the survivors. The wars and revolutions south of the border and overseas are getting worse and a poor example of what I believe will come. In fact, it's already started.

"Communications with Asia are spotty at best. Europe is hit or miss too. The National Guard has been mobilized as well as the Army. The Air Force, Navy and Marines are also being mobilized within the country. Posse Comitatus has been suspended for the duration of this...plague... Let's face it, it's a plague whether they are ready to label it or not. Anyway, it's pretty much everywhere now.

"Come with me." Dad got up and I slowly followed him out to an LAPD squad car - one of the newer SUVs the LAPD started using - which he had pulled into his space in the garage behind a closed door. He had backed his personal car onto the street to make room while I had been sleeping on the couch.

I noted his flak vest in the passenger seat, the same sky blue as his uniform blouse, laying on some boxes in the space for a passenger's feet. He explained, "As I told you earlier, even detectives and support staff are in uniform now including tac vests. And no unmarked cars. The interim chief wants our presence known on the streets. As thin as it is..."

He opened the trunk. Between the front seats and 'trunk' lid, with the back seat laid down, were boxes stacked to the roof of the car. The seatback had been lowered to expand the space, there were a few dozen cases of canned goods, a dozen cartons full of 300-count bottles of multi-vitamins, several boxes of large, professional first aid kits, a dozen five-gallon bottles of water - the kind used in the water coolers at the station house and many shrink-wrapped cases of individual bottled waters – some flavored but mostly just pure water. It was a clown car of goods.

A clown car was… Never mind.

We hauled it all into the house. Naturally, it took several trips. The kitchen counters and the island were covered and there were stacks on the floor. I was exhausted but there was more…

After making me sit on the couch, Dad went back out and came in with the AR-15 assault rifle that had replaced the old police-issue shotgun that had normally been carried in radio cars, before Dad became a detective, as well as two AK-47s.

With a few more trips, he also had several dozen boxes of ammunition for the Armalite and as well as two dozen large ammo boxes for the Kalashnikovs. The AKs both had the classic wooden stock and grips as well as the usual banana clips. Dad told me the banana clips held thirty rounds versus the typical twenty-round magazine for the 5.56 mm ammo used in M-16s – the original military counterpart of an earlier version of the Armalite.

He set the Kalishikovs and the AR-15 on the kitchen table and showed me where the safety was and the switch to go from semi to full autofire for both models – the Armalite was already illegally altered to go to full autofire, the AKs were already able to shift to autofire. He then broke the weapons down and had me do it too – several times. I also had to know how to clean them after using them. That part was the easiest lesson as gun cleaning was fairly standard but meticulous - depending on the weapon.

"You know how to handle the Magnum, the M-1, the Colt and the shotgun. Now, you need to do the same with these."

The Czech guns were by far the easiest. The Armalite wasn't bad – Dad said it was easier than the M-16 he was issued in the Army – but it still had a lot more parts.

"The Kalashnikov is considered the best assault rifle in the world. Far fewer moving parts than most similar weapons – something like fourteen in the AK-47 compared to sixty in the M-16 - thereby easier to clean and maintain. And less prone to jam during firing. Part of the reason they've been so popular nearly seventy years after the first one was introduced by Kalishnikov himself around the end of the Second World War. If you find any other AKs and have the chance, whenever you're near a place with ammunition - a sporting goods store, a weapons depot, even a cop shop - look for 7.62 mm ammunition."

"Where did you get these?"

Dad looked a little embarrassed, "I 'liberated' the property room at the station. These..." He hefted one of the AK-47s. "...were brought in during a drug bust a couple of weeks ago. These guns are as popular with bangers as they are with former Soviet republic armies, terrorists as well as guerrilla armies around the world and high seas pirates. These've been slightly modified to use the more standard full-size 7.62mm rounds you're likely to find in stores and anywhere else with ammunition. The original AKs used an intermediate round which are rarer here in the States." He touched the AR-15, "This was converted, illegally, by some banger from semi-auto to automatic fire.

"But!" Dad held his finger up in front of my face as emphasis. "Unless you really need it, do not! I repeat: Do not use any of them on full auto. It drains the magazine in less than a second with too little chance of actually being effective." I nodded. "You know how to point, sight and shoot. You're actually a better marksman – marksperson - than Trina and she's a natural with these. I've always received high marks for my shooting but you literally blow me away at the ranges. Pun intended." He smiled at me. "Just remember to keep your cool, no matter how crazy things get. Panic is understandable, and completely natural, but, unless time is a major factor, take a ten-count to settle yourself before panic takes over.

I had to ask, "Are you talking about me killing someone?"

Dad paused then nodded, "I can't believe I'm coaching you on how to kill someone but… If you have to, and I'm sorry but I'm sure you will, just think for a second before you shoot to kill.

"SHIT! This is so far beyond what I wanted for you. Tori, I love you and I wanted so much better for you. But I really need you to be as strong as I know you are."

Then he led me to the sofa again.

"When the shit goes south... When it really hits the fan, I want you to pack your mom's SUV and head up into the mountains. Remember that summer camp? Sutter? Up in the Sierras?" I nodded. "Good. That's far enough out of the way and any roving gangs that'll come together may miss it. It's better than any isolated spots nearer the city, like Big Bear or other major resorts in the Angeles Forest."

"O...okay... When? And what about you? And Mom and Trina?" Sadly, I had already accepted that Mom and Trina were apparently lost to us, in my head – but in my heart, I wouldn't… I couldn't let them go. I had to ask.

"You're a smart girl. You'll know when to go. Don't hesitate. Don't wait for me. I'll try to get back beforehand but I have my duties too. If you were younger, I'd drop everything to take care of you." I wanted to beg him to do just that. "But you're a mature, intelligent woman. I know you can take care of yourself.

"When I accepted this badge and uniform, I took the oath and I have to…fulfill it…as best as I'm able…" When he sighed, I wanted to hate him but, truthfully, I was also filled with pride, mixed with much more sorrow, that my father still wanted to do his sworn duty to help others. Even as the world was falling apart.

All the while, the little girl in me was screaming to tell him I needed him.

He said, "Of course, if… When your mother and sister get better, take them. Regardless of what they may say." He smiled when he added, "Especially Trina."

I actually laughed with him. I chose to ignore what he started to say about Mom and Trina. Hell, I'd been wondering that myself before this. And God, I am still ashamed of where some of my thoughts went.

Finally, we stood and he pulled me into his arms. "I wish I had taken you hunting or fishing. At least then you'd be used to it. To killing and preparing the…kill to eat. May as well call it like it is. The pre-packaged food won't last forever. Hell, a lot of groceries won't last a few days after the electric grids collapse. So you will need to know how to forage. To kill and dress game.

"One of the books I stashed has instructions on how to dress game. I know how you are. You cried when Bambi's mother died and when Ol' Yeller died. I did too. Even as an adult. Most normal people did, even people who hunt. Your first kill will tear you apart. It almost always does. But you have to remember, now it's you or the animal. You have to survive!"

"It's okay, Daddy," I mumbled into his shoulder. "I'll learn." Even as I knew it would take some time before I could kill an animal for food. It was so much easier to find chicken or steak or ground beef shrink-wrapped at Alpha-Beta or one of the other grocery stores.

"You'll have to. You know about the emergency stash of dry goods? What we set aside in case of a quake or a wildfire? I've been adding to that for the past year or so. Not sure why. Just a feeling I had that it was important. I think I was worried about the big quake... Anyway there are several cases of ammunition I never mentioned, for the guns I have stored. Your mom worries about things like that so I never brought it up.

"And I'm sorry we didn't get them and the weapons down yet. But time is tight...

"Also, in the 'attic', are books on survival and how-to's on making basic necessities like soap and such. There should be four or five Foxfire books and a few others. Those are on the small bookshelf in the crawlspace above the garage."

We then took all it down to the living room. The guns and weapons (great-grandfather's guns as well as his old GI combat knife) I was familiar with. The books, although dated, were new to me and in great condition. I could only hope I'd be worthy of Dad's trust with these treasures. We hauled these down to the living room.

Dad said, "Princess, I have to go..."

"Daddy..." was all I could say. He pulled me even tighter into our embrace.

It felt so safe. I never wanted him to let go. But he did. He had to.

Dad looked me in the eyes, "I love you, Tori. Like Trina, you have always been a joy and a blessing to me. Although you did make it easier... I'm so sorry you won't be the star you deserve to be. But I need you to be strong. Be safe. I am so proud of you. I wish you could really know how proud I am."

He kissed me on the forehead and hugged me again before walking out the door. His last words were, "I'll come to the camp if – no, when I can. I love you, Pumpkin."

"I love you too, Daddy," I managed to say before he actually left. I was fighting back my tears. I didn't want him to think I was weak, especially now.

Once my father was gone, I stared out the large back window for an hour or more. Our yard was fairly flat then sloped down towards the back, giving us an enviable view of a chunk of Los Angeles. It was nearly midnight and I could see the street light grid laid out but now I did notice some distant flares that were undoubtedly large fires. There were also distant clouds of black smoke that blurred the view from time to time.

Finally, Dad's talk, the scary, hectic day, my poor nap - all combined with poor sleep the night before… It was all too much. I fell onto the couch and cried, curling into a fetal position, as I fell asleep.

Somehow, I was sure I'd never see my father again.

Note: In chapter 1, I neglected to mention my 'editor' on this tale Loganx5. Many thanks again to Loganx5 for going over this and passing along numerous suggestions to improve the story. Logan, I really appreciate your help and the improvements you suggested. Hope I did your ideas justice. To all others, any typos, continuity gaps or other problems are all mine so blame me.

Chapter title came from the Dog's Eye View song.