Scott Williams: The Pulse

“Jessica’s a vegetarian,” Casey said as Grant reached for the last two packages of beef jerky remaining on an end display.

“It’s okay,” Jessica said. “Go ahead and get what you want, it doesn’t bother me as long as I don’t have to eat it.”

“The thing is, we’ve got to get things that are lightweight, will keep without refrigeration, and, ideally, don’t require extra water to cook.”

“Hey, how about these?” Casey asked, holding up a two-pound bag of almonds.

“Those are great,” Grant said, “And vegetarian-safe,” he added with an amused smile.

They were out of cash before they had purchased more than they could carry. Grant said they had done well, though, scoring a supply of several kinds of nuts, raisins and other assorted dried fruits, some bulk-packaged granola, a couple of large boxes of oatmeal that he said could be eaten uncooked if necessary, the jerky, several packages of tuna in foil, some boxes of whole-wheat crackers, two jars of peanut butter, and a couple of large blocks of Swiss cheese that he said would hold up well without refrigeration. Most of the other customers were loading up on bulky canned goods and other items that would be impossible to carry far on foot or on a bicycle. Despite their small haul, it took nearly two hours to get in and out of the grocery store. While they were in there the dark clouds that had been threatening rain since late morning finally broke open and drenched the streets, but the downpour had let up to a light drizzle by the time they were out in it.

They tied the plastic bags on Grant’s rear rack and around the handlebars of both bikes and, pushing the bikes, made it back to Casey and Jessica’s apartment by late afternoon. Casey opened all the blinds to let in as much light as possible, and at Grant’s urging the two roommates began sorting through their clothes and shoes to find a few items that would be suitable to travel in. Casey was overwhelmed at what Grant was suggesting—that they might actually have to leave the city on bicycles . She knew Grant could do it, but she couldn’t imagine how she or Jessica could pedal for miles and miles on the open road to anywhere. But Grant wasn’t talking about just anywhere. His parents, who were currently working on an archaeology project in Bolivia, owned a small cabin on a river not too far from New Orleans. They’d used it as a weekend getaway when they were living in New Orleans for a couple of years while Grant was still in high school and his father was teaching at Tulane. That was before the hurricane destroyed their home in the city and his parents left for good.

“It’s only about 90 miles from here,” Grant said. “It’s to the north, not far across the Mississippi state line, on a beautiful stream called the Bogue Chitto River. It would be a safe place in a situation like this. My dad thought of everything. There’s a well and generator and lots of food and other supplies stored there all the time. I was up there over the holidays to get away and work on a research paper.”

“Ninety miles! I could never ride a bicycle 90 miles!” Jessica blurted.

“Sure you could, Jessica. If you can ride a bike at all, you can ride it as far as you need to. You just have to take it one mile at a time,” Grant explained.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Casey said. “You could probably ride that far in a day. But we aren’t in shape for it like you are and our bikes suck compared to yours.”

“I’m not talking about a race, Casey. We’ll take our time, and go at the pace of whoever is the slowest. If it takes two or three days, that’s okay. The main thing is that we’ll be getting out of here. We can ride out of the city and get across the Causeway the first day for sure.”

“The Causeway is 25 miles long by itself!” Jessica said.

“Yeah, you’re right. But it’s also the shortest route north to where the cabin is. When you think about it, if you can ride a mile, then you can ride two miles, three miles, and on and on. You just keep pedaling and the miles will slide on by. We’ll stop and rest whenever we need to. One good thing, with few vehicles running, there won’t be any traffic. I’ll bet there’ll be other bicyclists though—at least those who are smart enough to think of it and start moving now.”

“I just hope it’s not a mistake to leave,” Casey said. “Can’t we just go back now and buy all the groceries we can carry and bring them back here? I’ve probably got at least thirty or forty dollars in change if I dig through all my drawers and boxes in my closet. We can come back here and stay inside and lock the doors. The lights have to come on soon, don’t they? Maybe it won’t be too long before everything is back to normal.”

“I think it would be a mistake to stay here,” Grant said. “I mean, we don’t have to leave immediately, but we’d better get ready. I don’t think we can count on this being resolved or back to normal any time soon. If we didn’t have the option of going to a well-stocked cabin within a reasonable distance, it would be one thing. But I know we would be safe there, and we would at least have a supply of food and water. We wouldn’t have to worry about the angry mobs of looters that are bound to start roaming the streets here when they figure out no one’s gonna bring them what they need and the police are powerless to stop them from taking it wherever they can find it. If I’m wrong and it turns out to be no big deal, then there will really have been no harm done, and we will have had some good exercise riding up there.”

“But this isn’t the Ninth Ward, Grant,” Jessica said. “This is Uptown . It’s nice here. People here don’t loot and rob. I think you’re being a bit paranoid.”

“I know it’s nice here now. And yes, it’s relatively safe. But this kind of stuff would happen anywhere after a disaster like this. When people get desperate, they’ll do anything. And besides, the people in the truly bad areas like you’re talking about know that with everything shut down, nothing is going to stop them from coming here. And they know there’s money and other goods here.”

“He may be right, Jessica,” Casey said. “He’s been through hurricanes and lived all over.”

“But why us, Grant? You hardly know us—well, me anyway…. Don’t you have other friends or family that will need to go there?”

“Not now, I don’t. My parents are much too far away to get any good out of it. And as I already told Casey, after Katrina all my close friends left New Orleans and never came back. I suppose I would go alone to the cabin if I didn’t know anyone who wanted to go with me, and I still will if you two aren’t interested. I’m certainly not staying here in the city, regardless. Casey and I just kind of ran into each other today; it’s been a really weird day, and, well, here we all are at your apartment. I don’t really have anyone else to spend the first day of the total shutdown of the grid with.”

“We don’t know that it’s a total shutdown,” Casey reminded him.

“No, but we should assume that it is in the immediate region, anyway. Look, I don’t want to try to talk either of you into anything. But I’ve got a few of the things we need over at my apartment, and whether you leave the city with me or not, it would be safer to stick together for now. I’d like for you to both come over after you get your things together. I’ve got battery-powered lights and candles in my camping gear. At least we’ll be able to see after dark at my place, and we can talk it over tonight and see how things are looking in the morning. What do you say?”

“That’s fine with me,” Casey said. “I hate blackouts even when they’re just for a few hours. It’d be scary over here with no flashlights or anything.”