It was unclear who initiated the attack. Lack of trust in governments, news, social media, all pointing fingers in different directions and issuing blame as escalating hostility ensued. A small island in the West Indies; erased from existence.

Society seemed to collapse on itself as people helped themselves to whatever they wanted from stores, hospitals and banks across the globe. Police, military and governments unable to contain the chaos as humanity demanded an answer for who was responsible and receiving conflicting information from the global news outlets.

Watching in dismay the information from the television and radio, it all just seemed to be unplugged and went silent one afternoon. The airplanes that crisscrossed the sky were ignored, everyone attributed them to the military patrolling the skies.

We had enough food for 3 months, water for about 2 weeks, so we hunkered down in our home. We live at the end of a cul-d-sac with only three other families, discussing the current state of emergency with the neighbors, one family decided to pack up and head south. The other two families decided to remain. Emergency sirens gave way to random gunfire in all directions. As the utilities ceased; gas, water, power, we sat in darkness.

My family all died on the same day, within six minutes of each other very early on a cool Sunday morning. Numb from the shock and the horror I just witnessed, I watched my neighbor trying to dig a grave for his wife using his backhoe then he fell, lifeless to the ground. I completed his task, then did the same in my yard.

I waited, first for a few minutes, then a few hours for my inevitable fate that did not arrive. Trying to go to sleep each night with the hopes of waking from this nightmare did not arrive either. The most frightening was the quiet; absolute total silence. Except for the random winds that gently rustled the leaves on the trees. No birds, no insects, no animals. For some reason, I resisted the temptation to take my own life. Compelled instead, to move on. Maybe someday, finding the answer to the question I seek.

It was late August and winter in northeast Ohio can be brutal. Without sufficient power or firewood for heat, I decided to go south before it gets cold. Blue Ridge Mountains perhaps.

I loaded my gun and ventured out for the first time because I was running low on water and some essentials for short and long-term needs. I drove down my street cautiously, listening and anticipating an ambush. If I survived, others must have as well I thought to myself.

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Death permeated the air as I drove about 3 miles to a local R/V dealership. The main streets were mostly void of cars and corpses and my caution was easing, a little. I found an R/V that seemed to fit my needs. It took me an hour to locate the keys and it only had a quarter tank of fuel. I collected fuel from the other units in the lot by cutting the fuel line and filling a gas can many times.

Once I emptied my SUV, I made sure to take all my personal effects, most of which were my wife’s; and locked it up and took the key. I really don’t know why I decided to do that, habit I suppose.

As I approached our local grocery store, I noticed the cars that littered the parking lot, no longer uniform and symmetrical but random and abstract. People, lying dead, most with visible bullet holes and signs of lost confrontation.

I circled the parking lot a few times, acutely aware of my surroundings and listening intently for anything unusual. I pulled up to the front of the store and sat for unknown reasons, numb and petrified.

I eventually exited the R/V, armed and nervous, stepping over dead bodies. The smell was horrific. I grabbed a cart and went to the pharmacy first. I loaded up with penicillin, vitamins and supplements. Fruits, vegetables and dairy well past expiration dates. I took as much water as I could manage.

I cried for two days.  I packed the R/V with what I considered vital, knowing I probably would never return to our home we loved so much. The R/V filled up rather quickly, I removed at least half of what I put in it because most of it was sentimental. I made sure I knew everything about the operation of the R/V. The owner’s manual was quite large. I made sure to take a couple of photo albums, personal items from my children and my wife’s perfume and our favorite recipe books. I left a note on the refrigerator.

Using old road maps, I plotted my course south. The next chapter of my life starts tomorrow, I thought to myself. I double checked everything trying to give myself a reason not to leave. It was another emotional and dramatic moment I was getting tired of experiencing. Again, I cried for two hours driving down the highway, the scanner; looking for a signal that does not exist.

I pulled off the highway and noticed a fuel truck parked at a gas station. After about 2 hours and a trip to a hardware store, I figured out a way to get fuel from the storage tanks, this got easier as time went on. I never went over seventy miles per hour if the road was clear of obstructions. Also, because I was not in a hurry, and any type of malfunction would sure to be catastrophic. I eventually pulled into North Carolina.  We had relatives there and I decided not to go to the house. I selected this destination for its climate and fresh water.