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AE Year 08
Tracy’s memories of those years were incomplete, when we finally had the chance to sit down together.
She remembered riding her bike through Atascadero and going north. She traded it for a tent and some supplies, on the way out of town. When she reached the ash, she turned west and walked cross country to the water’s edge.
The fish and shellfish were easy to obtain, and she rarely went hungry. Tracy ranged between the shoreline and the debris field along the tops of the ridges, while slowly working her way north.
She spent the first winter sleeping in an empty shipping container that overlooked the flooded valley where the community of Cambria used to exist. The debris field was heavy with parts of homes, businesses, boats, and vehicles. She was able to supplement the fish and shellfish with salvaged food from the debris field.
By the end of spring, Tracy became restless, and moved on to the north. The going was slow, because the terrain was rugged, with few roads.
The next winter she lived in a crude cabin, beside a hiking trail, and a half-day’s hike from the water. It didn’t snow, but frequent driving rain and strong winds made it miserable. For the first time, she was hungry often, and a fever almost killed her.
When the weather finally warmed, she emerged from the cabin skinny as a rail and at least 20 pounds lighter. She moved east and two days later, reached the 101 near King City. The area was a valley that had been swept by a tsunami. There were no signs of life, just acres of debris. Tracy continued moving northeast, and reached Highway 25 at the top of the ridge-line.
She continued north on 25 until she reached the debris line that filled this valley. After turning east, she moved cross country, over the next ridge-line. It had been raining steadily for two days and the fever returned. Tracy took refuge in a small building that housed a seismic monitor station. The building had been knocked off its foundation by the quakes, but it was dry inside.
The fever raged and her strength faded. The rain eased the next day, and she continued moving northeast. Crossing another ridge, she could see a freeway, and beyond it, a great body of water. She slept that night, in an abandoned car on the freeway.
It was the next afternoon before she made it to a structure near the water’s edge. On the horizon, Tracy saw a sail. The realization that she was not alone brought tears of relief.
The next morning she found a partially burned tractor tire near the shoreline. Within a half-hour she had started one side of it burning. It produced a large column of thick black smoke.
For three days, Tracy tended the signal fire, growing weaker all the time.
She was unconscious when the lookout on the Robert E. Lee spotted the column of smoke.
The Lee was a paddle wheel steamer that made a weekly run around the Inland Sea carrying passengers and freight.
Captain George Sumner had been a Second Class Quartermaster on the USS Chicago. When the sub was converted to a floating power plant, his skills were not required. He went to work as a deckhand on the Wild Goose. In two years he was the Exec, and when the Lee was built as a larger capacity replacement for the Goose, he was made her first Captain.
Captain Sumner swung his binoculars to the west, and remarked, “There’s no settlements in that area. I remember that’s the area where Zeb Jacoby rescued the Mendoza family. Come to course 090, and ring up full speed.”
Full speed for the Lee was eight knots, and it was late afternoon when they approached the shore. Captain Sumner could see a motionless figure crumpled up beside the fire. The Lee edged up to the bank and dropped the bow gangplank. The Exec led an armed party ashore while Captain Sumner watched from the bridge.
The Exec examined the figure, gave an order, and a large seaman picked it up with no apparent effort, and carried it aboard.
The Exec ran to the bridge and reported. “It’s a woman, skinny as a rail, and burning up with fever. I had them put her in an empty guest cabin. She needs a doctor, if she’s going to make it.”
Sumner replied, “They have a nurse at Casa Jacoby, and if we run all night, we can be there in the morning.”
The Lee normally did not run at night, since they occasionally encountered floating debris. They had a carbon arc searchlight and it was kept sweeping across their path all night long.
The Lee arrived at daybreak, steam whistle shrieking. Their visitor was hustled down the gangway, and on to the clinic without Sumner having the opportunity to see her.
Tracy’s physical recovery took several months. During that period, she never spoke a word, or smiled. She did seem to understand when people spoke, but stayed in a melancholy state day and night.
Nurse Salazar had done all she knew to do. She contacted the hospital at Sutter Buttes, and they suggested that they might be able to help her patient there. The next time the Lee arrived, her patient would embark for a trip to the hospital at Sutter Buttes.
Captain Sumner made a point to be at the gangway when his passenger arrived. He took a second look as she was carried up the gangway, and shouted! “Stop. Tracy is that you? I know her, it’s my little sister.”
Tracy smiled at him, and the long healing process began.
Three years later, Tracy led an expedition that blazed a trail connecting the Inland Sea and the Atascadero Communities.
Her homecoming brought our family back together, but our joy was to be short lived. Six months after she returned, the fever came back and she died the following day.
We buried her on the ridge alongside Sam Ross, and the empty spot in our family returned.
A year later, Danny and I made the trek to the shore of the Inland Sea. We met Captain Sumner on the Lee, and spent a few weeks visiting with him and the rest of Tracy’s family. His son Richard, was a teacher at the University in El Dorado.
He insisted that we visit and update their maps, based on our travels in the southwest. We were quite impressed with the school and resolved to send our children there.
Trade between the communities developed, and we adopted the same gold, silver, and junk silver based monetary system. The trail was expanded to allow truck transport between the Atascadero Community and a port named for Tracy on the southwest side of the Inland Sea.
The oil business prospered and expanded, with more wells and an expanded refining capacity. Working vehicles were still scarce, and the few surviving goats, donkeys, and cattle were quite valuable.
The heritage seeds we had, were the source for a prosperous and growing farm community. Danny and I often wondered how the Garza family, and the other people from Roswell were doing. We did hear a few reports about Flagstaff, and the rebellion against the elders of the polygamist sect, who were overthrown and banished a couple of years after we passed through.
