Memories of Chicago
Introduction: This is my first short story. It may seem all over the place but this idea is its the perspective of an old man suffering from dementia. I have tried to stay as true to the actual experiences of those affected by dementia and similar diseases and have referenced a number of people with experience with dementia patients.
The narrator adds to the overall themes of loss of self and being forgotten. These themes are also reflected in the setting of a zombie infested Chicago. Enjoy!
“Attention citizens of Chicago, this is an emergency broadcast
A rendezvous point in South Elgin has been secured by the United States Army.
South Elgin Point will be available to the public for the next twenty four hours.
Those entering South Elgin past noon tomorrow will be shot on sight.
The virus will be contained.
God help us all.”
The radio goes silent. I rub my eyes,
South Elgin.
Contained.
“So we’re going to South Elgin, Grampa,” says my grandson, Jules, from across the camp. He's boiling water for breakfast, oatmeal, on a fire of burning books. We’re in a library, it smells like old paper and smoke. We must have been here for a few weeks. It's hard to say.
Why aren’t we home?
I get out of my uncomfortable bed, really it's more of a couch, and walk over to him. The smoke from the burning paper wafts through the large room, the crackling of the fire. He stands up to hand me a water bottle along with three pills, “Here take these.” Then he returns to the fire and pours the oatmeal in the pot, “The water’s ready.” I pop the pills into my mouth, then take a sip from the bottle. Jules hands me a bowl and we sit down in our chairs. The oatmeal is bland and tasteless, I prefer the old kind. While we eat he starts telling me his plan: “We’ll have to leave out the back door,” he points, then he takes out a map and points to a road. “After we leave, we’ll head to North and follow it until St. Charles then we take the Fox River trails all the way to South Elgin.” I nod in agreement. I walk those trails all the time with my daughter, June.
After he finishes explaining, he hands me 3 pills and a water bottle, “Here take these.” Didn’t I just take them? “More?” I question, “Oh yeah, there’s more today,” he explains to me. I skeptically swallow the other pills with another swig.
Feed.
Hunger.
There's a groaning sound from outside the windows. There are people, they look and sound sick. “Can’t they see the door?” I say confused, I walk towards the entrance to open the door for them. Jules calls out to me “No! We can’t open the door for them."
"That’s no way to treat people, young man.” I continue to the door.
“Library rules, we can’t let the uh… homeless… into the library,” Jules insists shakily. I pause, that seems to make some sense.
We creep out the backdoor. It creaks and aches as it slowly closes behind us. Suddenly, it’s so quiet, there’s no one out today. Chicago?
“Grampa!” the kid calls out, he's about 50 feet in front of me.
Why is he in such a ru- “C’mon we have to get to South Elgin before the sun sets,” he beckons me.
I make my way to him.
Slow.
“Its a nice day, isn’t it?” he remarks, somewhat vacantly.
I look to the sky, there’s a single cloud in the vast blue. Clouds are such funny things.
“Grampa?” says a voice.
I look down from the quiet sky and see its source, a skinny kid, with a full camping pack. He must be going on a trip, I hope he has enough food.
Oh and there’s June, she must have been playing in the mud, her shirt is dirty. I call out to her, “June! Oh Junebug you’re all dirty, Mom will clean that right up.” I smile.
The kid waves me over to him “We made it to North!” I wander to him but my feet are starting to hurt. At least we have a car.
“It was parked around here somewhere,” I mumble. Jules can’t hear me “What was that Grampa?”
“I said, we parked the car-” There it is, a shiny Silverado pickup sitting right in the “North Used Car Dealership” parking lot. “Oh, good idea!” Jules exclaims, he starts for the lot, “Let’s find the keys from inside then we can drive her.”
Inside.
The building is much smaller than it looked. I'm sitting on a couch in the waiting room. The inescapable smell of coffee, cigarettes, and motor oil fills the space. I hear Jules looking for our car keys in some back room- and… groaning? The Door. I completely forgot to get the door for them, I feel terrible. That’s no way to treat people. I get up and cross the small room, almost tripping on a power cord. I reach for the handle and-
CLANG.
Keys? It must be… Jules dropped a whole awful lot of them. I’ll go help.
Help.
He jams the keys into the ignition.
“Hey, you don’t have to be so rough, just gently, take it slow,” I advise.
“Ok Grampa.” Heeding my advice, he gently twists the keys and carefully shifts to reverse.
“Ok so, when you reverse, put your arm around the back of my seat for a better range of vision.”
He places his arm around my seat and takes a good look around before backing out of the parking spot.
“Alright now carefully turn the wheel to your right when backing out, watch that parked car,” I direct.
He clears the lot and we start along the car infested road.
Why can’t anyone park today? Is it a full moon? “These cars sure are poorly parked, huh?” I remark.
“They sure are Grampa, everyone was in a rush to leave,” replies Jules.
“Just drive slower here Jules, we’re not in a rush,” I warn rubbing my eyes.
Tired
I let myself drift off to an uncomfortable sleep…
I awake to an unfamiliar area. I’m walking. Trees. The sound of rushing water.
Keys.
Something is off. I can feel it.
Keys.
I pat my pockets down. And frantically look around the-
Keys.
I forgot my keys. I have to turn back. I can’t get home without my keys. The kid’s focused on the trail. “Can we just go back for a moment, I think I forgot my keys,” I ask him.
He argues, “You won’t need them, we aren’t going home for a little while.”
“But what if we need to go back?" I ask.
“Oh!” he exclaims. “I’ve got mine right here!” He pulls a keychain out from his pocket. “If we need to go back home we can.” I guess the kid is right. They aren’t my keys. The uncomfortable thought won’t leave my head.
There’s a rustle in the trees. I can hear June, she’s probably playing hide and seek. I’m about to say something to her, then I realize, I shouldn’t reveal her spot.
I can’t seem to see her though, it’s getting dark. The lights on the trail are turning on, they hum like little bees and the sky is turning to a honey-orange. There’s a sweet smell that is so overpowering, I can almost taste it. Honeysuckle. I can’t help but smile, I see the kid up the trail. “Hey! C’mere a minute,” I call. He turns around and sees the plant, “What is it?”. I point to the yellow flowers on the bush “Honeysuckle.” I reply, “You can pick the yellow ones,” I grab a flower and squeeze the bottom, “and you can eat the stuff that comes out.” I take a lick, and then I hear it again.
That damn groaning.
The kid's expression changes, he darts his eyes back behind me. “We need to go.” Was he always this panicked? I look behind me. There are stumbling shapes moving in the trees and bushes, the groaning grows louder and louder. Suddenly he grabs me by my wrist and we start jogging down the trail. We’re speeding up, his grip tightens on my wrist. “What’s happening?” I demand. But I get no response, only a stronger pull. We’re almost at a full blown sprint now. My legs are screaming in pain. I can’t go on like this. “Why are we running? Where are we going?”
“We need to get to safety now,” he finally answers.
“I can’t,” I cry out, “I’m too tired!”
My legs sting and the lights are humming louder like killer wasps. I need to stop. I’m limping. The kid quietly supports me, I lean on his shoulder.
Pain, pain, pain…
We reach a building.
Safe?
My legs still hurt. There’s a knock on the door and a constant groaning. Is it me?
“I’ll deal with it, you can stay right here,” says a voice, it’s soft and gentle. What a kind boy. The floor is comfortable and warm. I’ll just lay here for a while…
Floor
Sunlight hits my eyes and wakes me up. My face is sticking to the floor. My back aches. My legs ache. Everything aches. The smell of urine is pungent. I’m in a public bathroom. Why did I sleep here? Gross. I stand up and see someone in the mirror. Maybe he can help me, although he looks too old to help himself. “Hey, do you know where we are?” I ask, quite politely. He mouths the words back at me, how rude. He's mocking me, following my every move. “Stop that!” I command. But he doesn’t stop, he’s frowning at me now. He looks more frustrated than I do. I turn around, “You’re old enough to know better.” I sneer and storm out the door. He was no help.
I step outside and I’m blinded by the sun, I raise my hand to it and squint. The morning is full of birdsong and fresh air fills my lungs. My eyes adjust, the foliage is so beautiful this time of year. I can’t help but take a stroll and admire nature. Junebug can’t be too far ahead, she always runs up the path. I’ll catch up to her.
Catch.
My foot kicks something, a torn up shoe. Reaching down I grab the shoe and look at it intently. I study the worn through sole, and the ripped laces. What is this doing here? Someone was in a rush… Suddenly it hits me. I feel my stomach knot, I can’t look at the shoe. I need to get away from it. I throw down the shoe and try to ignore it. I have to move.
Go.
Whose shoe was that? Maybe I can find him, maybe I can tell him where I left the shoe. The path is getting narrower and narrower. The bushes and trees hug tighter, and I can feel their leaves brush up on my knuckles. My breathing is getting faster and my heart is pounding. It’s getting dark, the sunlight can barely peak through the dense vegetation.
BANG BANG
What was that? The sound came from up ahead. I’m overtaken by curiosity, I have to know. I push through the tight part of the trail and there's something up ahead. It’s blocking the way. As I get closer the morning sun breaks through the less dense branches to reveal more detail. It's a fence, a long metal fence with barbed wire lining along the top. I hear June giggling, she’s excited that we’re here! I breath in the morning air and make my way to the fence.
Hope.
Reaching the fence, I see a few armed men. What are they protecting? I hope June can still get to school on time. One of them sees me through the grates. He points his rifle in my direction, as do his associates. He has a wild expression on his face, his eyes are wide but tired. “State your name and put your hands where I can see them!” the man demands frantically. I raise my hands “My name is Verne,”
“Was anyone with you, Verne?” There must have been. I look around behind me. “I- I don’t know.”