That Night
We hadn’t said a word to the kids, and we’d kept them away from the TV. We didn’t want to scare them, but they wouldn’t be going to school in the morning. Things were looking bad on the news, with outbreaks reported all over North America and already a few in Japan and China and Europe. So far, the individual outbreaks had been contained, but if my own stories had shown anything, it’s that a zombie scenario is always a war of attrition, and no matter how dedicated the military and the local responders may be, collapse was inevitable. It wouldn’t be long now, I realized, before the first cases hit San Antonio, and I would have to meet this inevitability head on.
“Okay,” my wife said as she stepped down off the stairs, “the kids are in bed. Let’s talk about what we’re going to do.”
“I’m guessing my parents’ place, right?”
She nodded.
My parents lived on 53 acres out in the Texas Hill Country, about forty miles northeast of San Antonio. Their property was remote enough that the only way to get there is to want to get there, if you know what I mean, but it was close enough to civilization that getting supplies and possible medical aide wasn’t impossible. Also, they had their own well, lots and lots of deer, a few chickens, and even a creek full of trout running through the lower 20 acres. My Mom was also a pretty fair gardener, so we’d have a decent amount of food.
“Tomorrow morning we’re gonna head out there. I want you and the kids to stay there.”
“And my parents?”
“Your parents, my brother and his wife, your sister, and your brother, his wife and their kids...all of them can go out to my parents’ house. There’s room. Plus, for the kids, it’ll feel like a big adventure.”
“Your parents don’t mind?”
“You know them,” I told her. “Family first.”
My wife nodded at that. She knew it was true. My parents are saints.
“You have the lists for everybody, right?”
“Yeah, I’m going to email them right now.”
I had given her several long lists to email to the various members of our two families. The idea was for everybody to buy the gear they would need and bring it with them out to my parents’ place. That way, we’d have far more than we needed.
At least at first.
“Okay,” I said. “You email the lists. I’m going to pack up the cars.”
Earlier that day, while my wife was picking the kids up from school, I went through our family disaster kits. About ten years ago I worked as a disaster mitigation specialist for the SAPD, and I learned back then the importance of having a good disaster preparedness kit. I’ve made kits for the family, smaller ones for each member of the family, and one each for my car and my wife’s. The family kit is of the homemade, 72 hour emergency shelter-in-place variety. It includes:
1. Flashlights (one for each member of the family and two large extra ones)
2. Extra batteries (for the flashlights, radio, and camera)
3. Canned food and MREs (the MREs take up a lot of space, but the idea of having a “kit” from which to make your own meal has a “Wow, this is neat!” factor that keeps the kids busy, which is critical for good morale)
4. Three 5 gallon water jugs
5. Water purifying tablets
6. A hand-crank powered emergency radio (ours is a Kaito KA500 Voyager 5-Way Powered, but there are several other reliable brands just as good)
7. Manual can opener
8. Paper plates, plastic serving ware, cooking supplies, and a small, one-burner Coleman camp stove
9. A large first aid kit and a quick guide to first aide procedures
10. A pocket folder containing copies of our birth certificates, home owner’s insurance and policy number, car insurance and titles, social security cards, passports, IDs, a lengthy phone number roster of family, friends and other important numbers and addresses, photographs of the family, a list of medications and my older daughter’s allergies
11. Rain gear for each member of the family
12. Heavy work gloves
13. Three disposable cameras and one waterproof digital camera
14. Unscented liquid bleach, eye dropper, and measuring spoons
15. Hand sanitizer and soap
16. Two large plastic sheets, duct tape, and a utility knife
17. A package of dust masks
18. A crowbar
19. Hammer and nails
20. Adjustable wrench
21. Bungee cords of several lengths
22. Two safety ropes, one 25 feet in length, the other 50 feet
23. Four heavy wool blankets
24. Four sleeping bags
25. A 5 gallon bucket to use as a toilet, plus a box of heavy duty black trash bags to line the waste bucket
26. A large box of matches
Then there are four backpacks, one for each member of the family. The individual backpacks contain:
1. Two flashlights (one small and one large)
2. Batteries for the flashlights, camera and radio
3. A small AM/FM radio
4. A whistle
5. Dust masks
6. A disposable camera
7. A Swiss Army knife
8. Roll of toilet paper
9. Envelopes containing cash
10. A local map and a state map
11. Three MREs and three 1 gallon water bottles
12. A Sharpie marker, notepads, pens and duct tape
13. A pocket folder containing all important documents, phone numbers, maps with escape routes and meet-up locations and family photos (my oldest daughter has a dog tag on her backpack with her allergy information on it)
14. Extra eyeglasses for my oldest daughter and my wife
15. Toothbrush and toothpaste
16. Extra keys to the house, and to both grandparents’ houses
17. A small waterproof box of matches
18. A small box of candles
19. Extra battery-powered chargers for our cell phones
20. A heavy wool blanket
21. A bedroll
22. A coil of safety rope, 25 feet long
23. A signaling mirror
It was while going through the backpacks, and finding the disposable cameras, that I realized how out of date some of the products might be. My wife and put the kits together years earlier as our response to flooding. The idea behind the cameras was to document potential flood damage for the insurance claims that would certainly follow. We’d gone to iPhones two years ago, though, and they took far better photos than the cameras ever thought of doing. Briefly, I considered chucking them, but ended up leaving them just in case they could come in handy.
My wife drives a Toyota 4Runner with 130,000 miles on it. It’s in great shape, though, and still runs like a top. My Nissan Altima has 101,000 miles on it, but isn’t in as great a shape. Still, we have a store-bought emergency kit for each car. Ours are from Bridgestone and include:
1. A flashlight
2. Hood-mounted spotlight
3. Safety triangles
4. A heavy wool blanket
5. Jumper cables
6. A small air compressor and pump
7. Duct tape
8. Heavy duty safety gloves
9. Latex gloves
10. Small Ziploc baggies
11. Black electrical tape
12. Batteries
13. A small first aide kit
14. A poncho
15. A tire gauge
16. Two screwdrivers, one of each kind
17. Heavy duty scissors
18. Zip ties
To this kit, I’ve added:
1. Fix-a-flat in a can
2. A 5 gallon bucket
3. Two 5 gallon water jugs
4. A signaling mirror
5. A box of heavy duty trash bags
6. Another copy of our family’s important documents and photos
7. A disposable camera
Earlier that afternoon I went through these kits and found a number of problems, such as:
1. The family kit and the individual kits were supposed to contain envelopes with a little cash in each. At some point during the last few years we’d used a good deal of that cash. I had to go to the bank to draw out our savings, which included the $8,400 dollars in our savings and the $3,200 in our checking account. I took out all but $50 of this in cash and refilled our emergency kit envelopes.
2. The feminine products in the family kit and my wife’s personal kit were several years old. I had to buy new ones. Luckily, I knew which ones to buy. Incidentally, I used our credit card for this and all other purchases.
3. I gassed up my Nissan, my wife’s Toyota, and the GMC Yukon we are currently borrowing from my parents. This behemoth has 220,000 miles on it, and has some problems, but still runs okay.
4. The pictures in our family’s Important Documents binders were not current. I had to get up-to-date photos of our kids and put these into each kit. (These are invaluable in case members of the family get separated. Imagine a six year old, for example, trying to provide a physical description of a lost family member.)
5. The phone chargers I had in the kits were for the Android phones we used to own. We have iPhones now. I had to buy all new chargers, plus one for my iPad.
6. The water jugs had to be cleaned and filled. I did this, and bought fourteen more 5 gallon jugs from the local Bass Pro Shops. I filled these as well.
7. I went to the local Army Surplus store and bought as many of the MREs as I could find
8. I didn’t trust the batteries in any of the kits, so I bought new ones.
9. The heavy work gloves I had for my kids were too small, so I bought new ones.
10. I hadn’t packed clothes in the original kit because the kids grow out of these too fast and they can mildew if left in the kits too long. I packed extra clothes and warm gear and sturdy shoes for each of us.
11. I take blood pressure medication. I had about twenty pills left in my current prescription, so I went to the pharmacist and asked for my next refill, which comes in 90 day packs. They told me the insurance wouldn’t authorize a refill because I wasn’t due to need it yet, so I had to purchase the next 90 days at the non-insurance price of $320.
12. I bought as much ammunition as I could find for my two Glock .40 caliber pistols, my 12 gauge shotgun, and my AR-15. There was surprisingly little .223 ammo to be found, though. I bought everything I could find.
13. I bought extra over-the-counter medications for the whole family.
14. I bought more canned food, juice boxes, and cereal bars.
15. We have two cats, so I also bought four bags of pet food.
While my wife was emailing our family members and getting everybody’s plan straight, I loaded up her 4Runner and my parents’ Yukon. The Yukon had a lot of miles on it, but it was huge, and could carry everything we thought we might need. Plus, it still worked okay. In fact, we’d had fewer problems with the Yukon than with my Nissan, so that was a good sign.
We watched the news some more, the outbreak spreading faster than I had expected, and then my wife asked the question both of us had been too scared to bring up.
“What are you going to do?”
She meant about my job. Technically, I was on scheduled leave. The Department had emergency mobilization procedures for bringing all its officers back on duty, but so far, that hadn’t been done. I figured it would only be a matter of time.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Well you better figure it out!” she shot back. I blinked at her in surprise. “You have a family, Joe. You have a wife and kids. Your place is here with us.”
She was right, of course. But even still, I did take an oath, and I wouldn’t be the man I know myself to be if I didn’t make good on that oath.
We fought about that the rest of the night.