Life After Death

This apocalyptic account takes place in the seventies before all of the consumer technology that we enjoy today. Jack Siefert, who lives with his parents in an Ohio suburb, is a 17 year old in between his high school junior and senior years. He is 5’ 10” and has a medium build.  His short-cropped black hair and blue eyes emphasize his naturally good looks. His hobbies include amateur radio, hunting, fishing and camping. He also competes in track. He majored in the science and math curriculum, and works part time in his father’s grocery store, which doesn’t leave much time for dating and partying like his peers and earns him a lot of teasing. He has trouble establishing a relationship with a girl, but he will soon have to deal with it as a matter of survival. He lives in a modest ranch style house with three bedrooms and two baths, which is in a neighborhood that is ten miles from the town center. He knows how to drive trucks because of his father’s delivery service. This is his amazing journey to discover his true purpose after a horrific incident.

The Beginning

I awoke slowly and fitfully, tossing and turning. I felt as if I had been on an all night binge. The bedroom was stifling hot and muggy and I was sweating profusely. Moisture hung in the air and a putrid odor insulted my nostrils. I looked out the window and saw that it was midday. A hazy hot sun hung over the neighborhood like a fiery furnace and there was no breeze.

I don’t remember it being this hot when I went to bed.

My throat was parched dry and sore. I needed water, so I got up and stumbled to the bathroom, but when I turned the spigot, nothing happened 

“Come on!” I yelled to no avail.

I headed to the kitchen and tried the sink, but no water came forth from that faucet. I opened the refrigerator and was immediately assaulted by a moldy smell. Apparently, the fridge had been out for some time. I grabbed a container of orange juice and drank it even though it smelled bad and was warm. All I cared was that it was wet. 

I checked the newspaper lying on a living room end table. The date was June 6, the same date as when I went to bed. I picked up the phone and heard no dial tone, and, like an idiot, I punched the buttons several times in a futile attempt to bring it to life. I tried to turn on a fan in the front window but it wouldn’t work. Obviously, the power was out. 

I opened the front door and looked around the porch for a paper, but there was none.

“Damn paperboy is always late,” I told myself.

That’s when I noticed that there were no people sounds. Bird chirping, leaves rustling, and dogs barking were the only sounds I heard. No sound of cars, no airplanes flying over, no sounds of people stirring about. The silence was disturbing. I went back to my bedroom and put on a pair of faded jeans, a tee and my work shoes, after which I walked down the sidewalk to the main street. I saw no signs of people. No cars, no busses were moving. Normally, by midday there would be a steady stream of cars, busses and trucks heading into town and cities east of here.

What the hell happened? Did the damn Russians finally hit us with nukes? Was there an evacuation? Why wasn’t I awakened?

I went back to the house. In my haste to quench my thrist I had not looked in on my parents. I opened the door to their bedroom and saw that they were still under the covers but the smell was really bad. I went over to the bed and pulled the covers away and nearly gagged. All I saw was two skulls and bones sticking out of bed clothing. Dirty yellow powder spilled out of the bedclothes and there were black stains on the sheets. Their corpses had rotted or disintegrated. I had no idea what the powder was, but it didn’t look good. Something bad had happened, but what? My first thought was that this was a bad joke, but no one was around to laugh at me.

I rushed outside and ran to the house next door where old man Stover and his wife lived. When I knocked, no one answered, so I opened the door and went in. People in these parts have a habit of not locking their doors even at night. I yelled but no one answered, so I walked down a hall and entered a bedroom. That’s when I found the same thing--two skeletons with dirty yellow powder spilling from their bedclothes. I also found their dog, an aged Scotty, lying dead in the kitchen. He wasn’t a skeleton but quite a bit of rotting had occurred. Evidently, animals were not affected by whatever happened. The old dog simply died of neglect.

Something really bad had occurred. Could these remains be all that’s left of people? How is that possible? I’m not a pathologist but I believe that the process necessary to reduce a human body to a solid residue would take some time. What could do such a thing? It certainly couldn’t have been a nuclear attack. That would have destroyed buildings and cars. There is a weapon that creates an electromagnetic pulse explosion in the atmosphere but that only affects electrical devices. There is also the possibility of a neutron bomb explosion, but that’s only a rumor. However, such an explosion would only kill people and animals by heavy radiation and leave infrastructure intact. But, could it reduce people to skeletons and a solid residue? Even if there had been a neutron bomb attack, why am I still alive? This disaster has to have an even more sinister cause.

I was so worked up I couldn’t settle down long enough to mourn my parents. Even though I was saddened, I felt compelled to find out what the hell had taken place. Basically, I was in shock. 

I went to my Ham set in the corner of my room. I was lucky enough to own a Single Side Band Collins S/Line receiver and transmitter. I had a battery backup system with a gas-powered generator. You never knew when the power would go out in an emergency, which is when a Ham radio comes in handy.  I went to the garage to obtain some gas and then hurried back to my room, opened all the windows, cranked up the generator and then turned on both my receiver and transmitter. I tuned all over the spectrum but I heard nothing. No signals of any kind. Just static. That was another bad sign. I repeatedly transmitted a call signal but received no response. In a normal emergency I would have received several responses. 

I did manage to pick up transmissions from communication satellites, but there was no change in the signals from them that I had received before.

I also tried the AM and FM bands with no luck. No commercial stations were broadcasting, and that included the TV channels. Is there no one out there? That frightens the hell out of me. It doesn’t make sense. Since I am alive others have to be, but finding them might prove difficult. I made up my mind that I had to try.

But, it would have to wait until tomorrow. I spent too much time with my radios, and now darkness is upon me. I remembered that there was water stored in the hot water tank. I went to the basement and used a wrench to loosen the drain plug. Water poured out into a bucket. It should be okay, but I had no way of determining that. It did allow me to hydrate and wash up a bit.

The night was frightening, especially lying there in the dark with no sounds. Will I die this time? I still don’t know how long I was out. It had to be quite some time because the weather is more typical of mid July or even August. Maybe what did this is still with us . . . or me. Oh well, I have to sleep or I won’t be able to function tomorrow.

I could only pray . . . please, God, don’t let me die.