Agoraphobia

Day 21 (Is That You?)

We had enough food and water for us to take a five day break from scavenging. But by the twenty-first day after the peak, I was getting antsy. My father commented he wished we had a CB radio, Geiger counter, and a flair gun. My mother suggested those things might be at the police station. I told them I'd be willing to go, as it would give me the chance to clear out the convenience store and deliver food to Detective Sanchez. An hour later, I was on my way.

I brought Bryce along as my bodyguard. I pulled my wagon two blocks out of the way to avoid the more densely populated streets.

I was about to turn a corner when I heard a vehicle. I peeked cautiously around the corner. A blue truck was moving in my direction. It rolled past too quickly for me to see the driver.

I just stood there, frozen. Was this person immune like me? Or was he agoraphobic and just trapped in the truck? Either way, I didn't know if he was friendly or dangerous. I had my pepper spray and pit bull to protect me. But neither would help if the driver tried to run me over.

The truck stopped abruptly. My heart skipped a beat. Had the driver seen me? I unholstered my pepper spray as the driver stepped out. I couldn't see his face, but his body language was of a very frustrated man. He flattened out a large road map on his truck's hood and glared angrily at it. Apparently, he was unaware of my presence. He slammed his fist on the hood and yelled "Shit!".

Bryce barked. The driver spun around and, for the first time, I could see his face. Our eyes met.

"Samber!?" he asked. "Is that you?"

After a long silence he began to walk toward me. But Bryce growled, freezing the man in mid-step.

"No, Bryce! No!" I scolded. The pit bull looked at me. "This is Uncle Peter. He's a good guy." The pit bull looked back at Uncle Peter, wagging his tail tentatively, but his glare still held suspicion. I smiled at my Uncle Peter and closed the space between us. He dropped to one knee, and we hugged.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Looking for you. Where in the hell is the City Museum?"

"Right over there," I nodded to my right. He followed my line of sight. Sure enough, we could both see the City Museum's Ferris wheel looming above two smaller buildings.

Finding Uncle Peter was a great relief. I was no longer the only person who could go outside. I had someone to share the burden of responsibility. I was no longer alone.

"I'm so glad you're safe," sobbed Uncle Peter. "It's been so bad the last twenty days. I can't begin to..." He let the sentence trail off, raking his fingers through his hair with a shaky hand. Uncle Peter was obviously a man under a lot of pressure, although, at the time, I wasn't sure he counted as a "man". The Uncle Peter I knew before the peak was more like Peter Pan. He spent a lot of time in Never-Never Land. He fancied himself a professional cartoonist, even though the level of his achievement had never attained the scope of his ambition. Don't get me wrong; I loved my uncle. He just wasn't the most grownup of grownups.

"Are Aunt Roxanne, Sarah, and Vanessa safe?" I asked referring to his wife and two daughters by name.

"They're fine. But very worried about you and your family. I need to talk to your parents..."

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Bryce and I climbed into Uncle Peter's truck so he could drive us back to the City Museum.

Halfway there, we saw an elephant. Not a painting. Not a sculpture. A REAL elephant.

"Holy bacon-greased grandma-humping hell!" exclaimed Uncle Peter, easing the truck to a stop. We watched as the massive animal ambled passed us, turned a corner, and disappeared from view. "Must have escaped from the zoo," deduced Uncle Peter.