It was September, only three months since the pandemic had changed the world. To me, it seemed like a lifetime. Forced to forget my grief from losing my parents and grow up beyond thoughts of college, football, fraternities and the good life our parents had given Derek and me. Now gone, but largely forgotten in the perpetual tasks ahead. It was time for a breather.

The calendar told us it was Labor Day, so we sent out a message to everyone not to work, but to play, eat and have a good time for a change on the first Monday of the month. Everyone who heard it from our online broadcast or read it later, cheered.

Derek, Ray, and I celebrated by getting up at 5 am and heading out hunting beyond the estate. We all took different stands and waited for the sun to appear, when the daylight animals and birds started to move around and forage. The chaparral was lush from the rain from the hurricane and wildlife was much more plentiful than I had seen it back in the desperate days of needing meat in late June when I last hunted there.

It was still half dark in the sea mist coming in off the coast when I heard firing from the others with the different shotgun sounds of slugs and birdshot being fired.

After he fired, I heard the brush rustle to my left from where Ray was and spotted a young buck trotting my way in the mist. Unfortunately for him, my slug to his heart put him down. I waited. Changed to birdshot. Saw a jackrabbit's ears sticking above the chaparral working his way toward me. I aimed for the ears when he came into the open, and fired. He went down kicking up dust, a headshot saving his meat from lead.

In an hour, we were all back together, to begin gutting  what we shot.  Then putting the meat on the trailer behind the 4 wheeler we drove in on, quite quiet because of being electric.

There was another buck shot by Derek to match mine, seven quail, three jackrabbits, one coyote, a wild pig, and a turkey. The last two, newly feral versions of farm animals. The turkey had white feathers, making it an easy target for coyotes and eagles. We also saw feral cats but didn't shoot any. Perhaps we should have. I knew they would have a detrimental effect on wild game. Like the pigs.

Most of the rest of the morning was spent butchering all the meat as others from the compound helped out as we got ready for the big barbecue to be held in the afternoon at my pool.

We all ate too much, drank too much of the finest booze and got too much sun in and out of the pool all afternoon. For some it was too much and they returned to their homes to sleep off the excess.

The rest of us headed down to the Rambler where the entertainment committee had put together an hour-long show that began at 6 pm featuring a country band, a comedienne, and some dancers. And then, there was a movie that none of us had seen of an apocalypse greater than we were experiencing where we cheered and laughed at what was happening on the screen.  

To top the celebration off, from both the top of the Rambler and the hotel, an impromptu fireworks display took place for another hour. Letting those within eyesight and earshot know some parts of Los Angeles were coming back alive and observing a holiday.

The next day, hung over, we were back working on the medical center. Derek, Peter and a surviving electrician working on setting up a massive solar array and two large wind turbines to provide power to the whole complex that would take at least a week to complete. Likewise, Peter, Gary and I were installing a catchment system, pumps and a large cistern at the top of the hospital to provide water to the building and pressure to the entire complex.

The fireworks had alerted some people that there was life at the port. During the following days, another 23 people came in, some as far away as LA suburbs. Of those, three exhibited gang tattoos and came together on Wednesday. They were emaciated and begging.

As instructed, they were turned away, but as they walked back to their pickup with a pedestal in the without a machine gun mounted, the leader and oldest, perhaps 23, fell down on the ground and went into convulsions. Medical help from the ship arrived and saved him. The three of them were then taken on the ship and cared for in a locked state room under guard.

Friday came quickly and throughout the week we began to see signs cropping up from people wishing to run for various key offices from the committees.

As we gathered together in the Rambler theater again it seemed like we had grown. But it was probably just people coming off the list of sick that had arrived the last month and were now recovered enough from starvation and dehydration to join in the decision-making process.

There were even some signs in the audience backing one candidate or another. Once again, the meeting started with only Wondah in charge of displaying and recording everything, Captain Jensen, Van Nguyen, Derek and I on the stage. That would change when the meeting progressed. At least, it I was my intention.

When everyone had settled down, I began, "Welcome to election night. To get things underway right away, we have determined the following offices for the organization. Wondah has put them up on the screen. So I won't repeat them to you. But first, and please raise your hand or stand up and use your phone amplifier if you have a position and want to talk to us, let us know if we should have any more original key positions."

Three hands went up and three new positions were suggested. Wondah added those to the list.

"Are there any more?" I asked. No one responded. "Okay, let's take nominations for the first position, Mayor."

The audience came alive with lots of names, including those of us on the stage. We all politely declined nomination. But there were three serious contenders for mayor. They all had been working with us and now could show their worth from their backgrounds. I gave each of them the stage to describe why they would be a good mayor in 10 minutes. Thankfully, each of them took less time.

To save time, I asked for a simple show of hands for each of the candidates. We would only count if the show of hands was close. But after I asked for hands for each of the candidates, only one was the clear winner. It was Dr. Joan Roberts, 37, a former political science professor and associate dean of social sciences at Cal State, Long Beach.

She had shown her worth as soon as she arrived by helping with the infirmary and then later, after the flood, leading groups helping with the cleanup at the Santa Monica Pier. She won by an overwhelming show of hands.

I asked Joan to take over the proceedings and she willingly agreed. The rest of us left the stage except Wondah and joined the audience. It felt good to be there and just part of the voting population again, although I had not voted up until that time except for clubs in high school.

Joan explained that there wasn't time to elect all of the positions suggested. So she suggested that we only elect a managing secretary for her, a treasurer, and a sheriff to get things rolling. But to hold off elections for the other positions for another week so people inclined to run for office could have time to state their plans for those offices. A show of hands showed that everyone agreed with her. The next position was managing secretary. Wondah had declined, but agreed to help whoever took the position to set up and operate the equipment. There were only two candidates and the audience overwhelmingly selected Monica Peters, 28, who had been the executive assistant to the head of MGM Studios. She had only recovered about 15 days before but was willing to serve rather than cleaning fish the boats brought in.

The next position was treasurer. Seymour Kaufman, 43, a CPA who expressed his desire to reopen his private business and help establish the monetary system was elected without opposition.

The position of sheriff was contested by three people. A former Orange County Deputy, a sergeant with the Long Beach Police Department and a lieutenant from the Los Angeles Police Department who had manned and led the access gate to the port from when he recovered 2 months before. Lieutenant Morgan Singh, 35, received the majority of the votes.

After discussion about renovating a former business located within the perimeter as the interim City Hall, Joan adjourned the meeting.

The next morning, both Derek and I were on-site at the building to prepare it to accept the offices of the four officers elected and their supporting staff. The building was adequate for now, but we would look for something larger and more appropriate in the future.

On Sunday morning, Melody and I transported four Vietnamese and one Hispanic woman to the Catholic Church and dropped them off to pick them up at noon.

In the meantime while traveling to the church, two of the Vietnamese women had expressed that they wanted to open a hair salon for the community. We knew of one in a small strip close to the Medical Center, so we drove there to see if it needed any work. Like every other business, it had been vandalized, so we were in the process of cleaning up when we heard a single shot nearby.

It came from the Medical Center. We grabbed our guns and ran towards the front door. Coming around the corner with Melody out ahead of me, I saw the lone security guard who was supposed to be inside lying on his side on the steps and two figures rushing inside the place who didn't see us in their haste.

I yelled, "Melody! Melody! Don't run through that door! Wait for me… Wait!"

I caught up with her at the door with her hand on it about to open. I gasped, "Don't go running in there, they'll hear you coming! We have to sneak in very carefully and catch them by surprise."

But stealth was not necessary, they were shooting at the lock and kicking at the door of the pharmacy making a lot of noise, there was no time to waste, we had to move fast.

Copyright 2023 © Ronald W. Hull

9/29/23