Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
As I stand in my kitchen looking out the window, I rack my brain thinking of ways to get ahold of someone I know.
There’s no power so anything with electronics is out.
While I’ve been standing there trying to come up with a plan the sun has risen and I can finally see my neighborhood clearly and down into the bay.
I feel like I’m going to faint, my nerves on edge and the adrenaline wearing off.
I look out onto the bay, and fires are everywhere.
Houses are collapsed and fire hydrants are shooting water straight up to the sky.
I do a double take out the window When I think it’s starting to snow which I know for a fact is impossible here.
I lean over my sink trying to get a closer look at the falling pieces and realize it’s some type of grey ash falling from the sky.
My body starts to involuntarily shake. Now I’m completely coming unglued.
There aren’t any volcanoes here either What can this be?
I eye the fires in the bay, and they are burning wildly with no signs of help coming their way.
I don’t understand where the police could be.
Where are the firefighters? I’ve got to figure out what to do on my own.
The fires are getting closer to my house.
If the wind picks up or if they are left untamed, they will eventually arrive here.
If only my phone or internet was working!
I sit down at my kitchen table and rest my head against the cool table top.
Then the memory pops into my head and I swing back up, getting up from the table and going back to my bedroom.
Two months after I moved into my house in San Fran, I found a sealed letter at the bottom of one of my suitcases.
It had a burgundy pouch attached to it and was addressed to me in my mother’s handwriting.
On the front of the black envelope written in silver ink it read: Only to be opened in an Emergency.
You will know the right time, Love Mom. I wanted to open it right then out of curiosity but knew not to.
I knew to follow her instructions. Now, remembering it, I know this is definitely the time to open it.
I can feel it in my gut and, as the letter said, I would know when the time was right to open it.
I’m scared, alone and thousands of miles away from my parents and friends. Yep, ripping into that one.
! I go into my bedroom, fling the doors open on my closet and grab my suitcase.
I’ve kept the letter and pouch there since the day I discovered them.
Out of sight, out of mind I told myself.
I drop to my knees and run the zipper around the length of the bag, flip open the lid and pull out the letter.
I lay the pouch to my side. I break the heavy wax seal on the black envelope and begin to read the letter inside.
Asmita,
If you are reading this letter, then we are in the new state of our world.
We knew this day would come and wanted to try to keep you safe as possible on the other side of the country.
We tried to do the right thing. Now is the time for you to be strong.
You must get yourself to a safe place. Get out of the city and head inland.
Go someplace that has always made you happy, think about this place and the perfect spot will come to you Take only essentials.
Pack anything you have that’s expensive like jewelry and things you can barter and trade with.
Get out of town as fast as possible and don’t trust or drink the water.
Use the pills we have enclosed on water at all times.
Do not trust anyone no matter what they may say or do to persuade you.
The only person you can trust now is yourself.
Remember your father and I love you. We will one day see each other again.
Love, Mama
I stare at the letter, not believing what I’m reading but trying to understand.
I’m in shock. I have to read the letter a second time.
. How did they know this could happen and why would they send me so far away from them?
What jewelry? The necklace they gave me?
It’s only a small gold heart and wouldn’t bring much from a jeweler let alone on the street.
I wear it every day and never take it off.
I unzip the pouch and shake its content out onto the ground beside me.
The light from the window hits the small mound of diamonds momentarily blinding me.
Well, I guess this is what she meant by jewelry.
The pouch is full of loose diamonds in various shapes and sizes, heavy bracelets and rings mixed among them.
None of it looks familiar from my mother’s so it must be things that she gave me specifically for whatever this situation is.
Underneath the jewels are small bottles of tiny orange pills.
The pills are so small that they are maybe one fourth the size of a dime.
There’s got to be several hundred of them since they are so tiny.
I read the small print on the bottle: one pill per ten ounces.
Shake and wait 30 seconds before drinking.
Whatever my parents may or may not have known , they knew it wouldn’t be safe to drink the water now.
I sit on the floor until my legs feel numb.
What had my parents never told me? And what else have they been keeping from me?
It takes me awhile but I snap out of my disbelief and get to my feet.
I skip a much-needed shower because I’m unsure now about the water.
The letter didn’t explicitly say anything about using the water only drinking it but at this point, I’m not going to chance it.
I change out of my running gear and into a pair of jeans and a sweater.
I leave my running shoes on and comb my hair and pull it back into a tiny nub of a ponytail.
Packing a small backpack with the pouch and the letter from my mother, I keep the pills in the pouch and grab a water bottle from the kitchen and some protein bars.
I take a frame from my bed side that holds a family photo and an extra day of clothing.
I have no idea how I’m going to get out of the city, but I must. My cell phone is useless, but I take it anyway and power it off to save what battery I have.
I take one last look around at my house and lock the door behind me.
Outside, the smell of smoke is strong. The ash is coming down hard and reminds me of the beginning of a blizzard I remember experiencing growing up.
My garage door won’t open so I have to manually pull it open using the cord hanging in the center of my garage.
I throw my backpack into the front passenger seat and start my car up.
I’ve got almost a full tank of gas and, since it’s a hybrid, can also use the electric it’s got stored.
I’ve only driven my car or any car for that matter a handful of times so hopefully I can get out of the city.
I back my car out of the garage and get out, pulling the garage door down behind me.
I don’t see any of my neighbors out of their homes.
I wonder if they are inside accounting for the damage or trying to find a way to get news.
How many people were awake to see the announcement?
Either way, I’m going to follow my mother’s instructions.
I’m trying to get somewhere safe out of the city.
I start driving in the opposite direction of the Golden Gate.
There is no way across that bridge, and my other closest option out of the city is the Bay Bridge; that will get me out of San Fran and access to mainland California the fastest. I speed down the hill and can see the damage done so far.
Houses are on fire, and pieces of cement and drywall are all over the sides of the road.
I’m paying careful attention to power lines as some look like they could fall to the ground any minute.
Wires are down in places, and I throw all caution to the wind and plow through the red lights.
I’ve only seen a few other cars on the road which is extremely rare for the city.
People are starting to flood the sidewalks and spill out into the roads as I further away from my residential area .
As I start getting closer to the Bay Bridge, I can see that it appears crossable.
. The bridge spans farther than I can see so I take the chance and get on.
I can’t go back, I have to keep moving forward.
Traffic is nonexistent on the bridge, with onlya few abandoned cars sitting in lanes.
Out of the five lanes, most are free to drive in.
Some people have stopped and are on the side of the bridge while others are stopped in random spots causing me to have to weave in out of the lanes.
I’m trying to cross the bridge as fast as I can.
I don’t know if it’s the wind or another earthquake, but I can feel the bridge moving as I drive.
I’m almost to the end when I can see a section of the bridge is missing.
Cars have stopped in three lanes, and people are out of their cars staring out into the dark water.
Two lanes on the right side are still intact, but no one is driving across them.
If I stay here, who knows what could happen.
My gut tells me to gofor it. I lay on my horn as I barrel down on the people.
I’m getting out of here one way or another.
I weave in and out of more cars parked trying to watch both the road and the bystanders.
I can see heads turning toward me as I come up on them.
My car is flying now, no longer going anywhere near the speed limit.
I force my car all the way to the right side of the bridge.
I’m so close to the barrier wall that I hit my mirror on the concrete.
As I drive over the falling concrete, I can see cars down in the water.
It’s a mess of steel and concrete. They must have gone down with the initial tremors.
I feel bad for them, but I’m too scared for myself to keep my mind on the scene.
I get my eyes back on the road and get back onto the section of bridge that’s still intact.
That was the most exciting trip to Oakland I’ve ever had.
Actually, it’s my only trip to Oakland. Once I’m across the bridge, I realize that traffic is going to be my enemy.
I’ve made it a few miles, but the freeway is flooded with stopped cars, abandoned or involved in some state of an accident.
Grey ash is still falling from the sky, and it’s coming down at a rate my wiper blades can’t keep up with.
The wind is so strong, it’s attempting to blow my car into the other lanes.
The normally flashing billboards along the ides of the road normally showing ads are now black.
I make it several miles before I have to come to a complete stop.
As I look over at the drivers around me, the look on people’s faces is a mixture of confusion and horror.
Panic has set in, and everyone is trying to figure out how to react to the insane amount of ash falling or the lack of information in the emergency broadcast.
My thoughts are to just keep moving. I pull my car off the road and power on my phone.
It shines back at me the now familiar message, Network Not Connected.
I sit there and stare at the phone for a few minutes, not knowing what to do with myself.
If I can’t call or get information on my phone, then I’m really on my own.
I’ve got to get myself to somewhere safe like my mother’s instructions said.
Only one major problem so far… where the hell am I supposed to go?
It’s time to get out of the car. I won’t make it anywhere on this congested road, and I’m only killing daylight by sitting here.
I have no other choice but to get out and walk.