Morning at the Last Festival

Posted on Fri Apr 21st, 2023 @ 7:48am by Hale Stratton & Vienna Quinn & Alonzo Blazevic & René Rouen

1,903 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Bangor or Bust
Location: Millinocket, Maine
Timeline: 25 August 2010 - 10:00 a.m.

The announcement of a global pandemic by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention at 8:00 in the morning, 25 August 2010, was being carried on every network. Word was spreading but in the small town of Millinocket, Maine, attention was centered on the Trail's End Festival. Now in its third year, the festival celebrated the northern end of the Appalachian Trail. Musicians had set up in the open, giving free performances, while vendors sold street food and hawked a variety of home-made crafts and hiking equipment to the crowd.

[Festival Grounds]

Cooper, with Whiskey not far behind, walked through the crowd, occasionally stopping to pick up trash or give directions, mainly to the bathrooms. He could hear the thumping of the music, but wasn't focused enough to make out the words.

[Parking Lot, Near Festival Grounds]

Alonzo Blazevic had arrived at one of the festival's parking lots earlier in the morning before dawn, before the sun had come up. He had taken two dark shirts of his in his car and placed them over the drive and passenger side windows of his Pontiac Vibe, pushing the windows up to secure the shirts in place to give him at least some privacy.

When the sun started to appear through the cracks, and poke into the car a bit, the warmth on his eyelids had tickled him awake. He had turned the radio to catch some news, but at 8am an announcement from the CDC had come through and left him curious what exactly was going on.

Parking Lot Near Festival Grounds

Rene stepped off the school bus that had brought the students from Bangor to Millinocket for the Festival field trip. He had spent most of the hour long ride looking out the window at the Maine countryside. He was the new guy and had made little headway the last week and a half since the start of the term in making real friends at the school in Bangor.

Rene joined the group of students getting off the bus and waited as the teacher assigned the students into smaller groups of four that were to stay together for the duration of the field trip. He was assigned to a group that consisted of seniors that all appeared to be part of one of the schools athletic teams, they all sported letterman jackets.

Stepping off the school bus Vienna took her chance to move closer to René, she’d promised her parents she’d watch out for him, and truth be told she was starting to quite like him. “Hi René” She smiled warmly. “Mind if I tag along with you?”

René turned to Vienna and smiled back. "I...."

Courtney, Madison and Brin stepped up just as René began to speak. "Vienna, come on. Madison, Brin and I are going to go check out the local coffee shop. See if small town hospitality is as good as they say it is."

Jordan looked over to René standing next to the girls. "Hey! New guy you're in our group." He immediately shifted his attention to Vienna. "Hey there Vienna. Mind if we catch up with you later? Have something I need to ask you about."

Vienna felt a little disappointed, but she nodded nonetheless. “Sure, no problem. I’ll see you later.”

Apartment Complex, Residential Area, Millinocket

Lucas rolled into the apartment parking lot, found his usual spot, and put the Bronco into Park. He killed the engine and grabbed his handheld, taking the stairs to his apartment two at a time. Once inside, he grabbed his laptop and connected to the internet – which was abuzz with news stories about the shelter order. He tried reading some of the stories, but for the most part, they were a variation of the same theme: stay indoors and prepare for a long stay.

"Good thing I went to the grocery store yesterday," he muttered aloud. That simple statement got him to thinking, and he got up and began inventorying his apartment. An hour later, he estimated he had food to last for a week. The case of bottled water he bought would be for emergencies only. Tap water would be good enough for now.

Lucas walked into the bedroom and plugged in his HAM radio. He didn't know who he'd be able to reach, but he'd try again in a little while; somebody had to know something.

In the meantime, he tried to contact the American Legion post commander (who didn't answer) in case the post opened up as a shelter, which it had done several times in the past. Several of his Navy buddies called him and shot the breeze; none of them prepared for the announcement, but Lucas found himself going back to the laptop for information.

Restaurant Near Festival Grounds

Hale stared out the window, watching the crowds of people who, like himself, had decided not to shelter-in-place. No one was rushed or looked particularly anxious unlike himself. In the two hours since he'd spoken with Peter and heard the announcement, he had verified that public transportation throughout Maine was shutting down. No planes -- not from the municipal airport here and certainly not from the larger airport in Bangor. Constant busy signals and the websites were reporting delays and cancelled flights. So, that was out. Same was true of the busses and trains -- not that he'd use them. Flights were quick but he could drive the distance and probably get there sooner than a bus or train would.

Worse still, from the newsfeed scrolling on his phone, some businesses, especially grocery stores, were already reporting shortages as people rushed to get whatever they could. Made sense, the notion of stocking up, but it also meant that he would have to brave that craziness if he wanted to get supplies of his own for the drive back to Fort Benning.

The waitress returned with his coffee and he smiled his thanks, his mind returning almost immediately to the problem at hand. Years in the military, time spent in the rough, meant that he drank his coffee straight because luxuries, like milk and sugar, were hardly ever at hand. Truth be told, he barely noticed the taste. Caffeine and time to map out a strategy for getting him out of town. I'll have to get a good map, he thought. If public transportation out, the roads will be crowded. See if I can make better time on the back roads providing there are back roads to get us there.

It was early in the day; the CDC's warning falling on the mostly deaf ears of people who wanted to keep their traditions. Celebrate before having to hibernate. Then too, for the business community of Millinocket, there was a lot of money to be made.

Course, not everyone who worked the festival was happy about it; Harry, for one, lived paycheck to paycheck. He had passed sixty on his last birthday; he was stooped from a spinal issue he couldn't afford to get fixed, but more than that, he was tired. Exhausted. Ten in the morning and already longing for his recliner and a cold beer he couldn't afford. Long gone were the days when he could work construction for twelve hours straight and take his girl dancing that night. Pain radiating down from his shoulders into his arms had left his chest feeling tight and a sheen of sweat covered his pale features. Willing it all away, Harry kept moving. One foot in front of the other. Because every penny mattered these days. Every ... single ... one.

Jordan Tyler, David Martin and Steven Garner came bounding out of the local McDonald's and all but knocked over Harry as the old man slowly made his way down the sidewalk. "Hey old man! Watch yourself, you almost made me drop my milkshake." Jordan turned to his buddies. "Damn old people think they own the frigging sidewalks." Dave and Steve just snorted derisively as the three started to walk off.

Harry stumbled backward, feeling the hit like a hammer to a sheet of glass, and groaned. I'll just sit down for a minute, he thought, rest up a bit before getting back to work. Just a minute. Moving awkward, his normal stride reduced to a shuffle, he dropped down onto the bench abruptly as a wave of dizziness stole over him. The world seemed to darken at its edges and he found it harder and harder to breathe. And while the world continued around him, Harry quietly passed away.

Parking Lot Near Festival Grounds

Nicole sat in her truck with the door open, her feet resting on the gravel of the parking lot. She held her government issued cell in her hand anxiously. Based on the CDC announcements she knew she'd be getting some sort of phone call. Most likely from one of her new superiors at Great Lakes.

In retrospect, it wasn't actually very long from when she parked to actually receiving the call but regardless, it felt like hours. At last her phone rang. Having already put in her new superior's numbers in her phone, she recognized the number. It was her supervising RDC, Chief Petty Officer Sampson.

"Petty Officer Green" she answered the phone.

"Petty Officer, this is Chief Sampson. There is absolutely zero time to delay. So I will not sugarcoat anything. I assume you've heard the CDC's announcement?"

"Yes Chief I have."

"Good. Then we are on the same page. I'll make this brief. Due to the recent announcement, Naval Station Great Lakes is under strict lock-down. Nobody in or out. Am I understood?"

"Yes Chief."

"Good. This also means that you are essentially stranded for the moment as are a lot of other people transferring to other commands. The higher ups have given standing orders that those in your position are to help wherever needed, and to help anyone that needs it. Any questions Petty Officer?"

Nicole had tons, but she remained calm, cool, and collected. "No Chief."

"Very well. If you have any questions or inputs do not hesitate to reach out. As many other sailors and soldiers from other branches, you are on your own now as much as I hate to admit it. Good luck. We'll see you on the other side."

"As to you Chief"

The Chief's tone became less cold. "One final thing. Try to find whoever you can. Sailors, soldiers, Marines, pilots, anything, anyone. And be safe out there."

"Aye Chief" she replied. Moments later her superior ended the call. Nicole set the phone down in her center console beside her and sighed. Everything was beginning to be as she feared.

Someone noticed finally. The old man, sitting slumped over on the bench, with hands splayed out to his sides. An ambulance was called and the EMTs, in conference with a doctor at the hospital, reported what they saw. Caucasian Male. No heartbeat. No pulse. And beginnings of lividity the hands. The doctor listened, told them he would meet them at the morgue, and the EMTs acknowledged. It wasn't their first call of the day. Not even the tenth. Before long, Harry Freeman was moved to a gurney; the EMTs didn't bother with the body bag. They'd leave that for the morgue attendants.

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