Day 34 of the Apocalypse, Ground Zero, Gerton, NC pop. 231

There are five “camps” of people who have revealed themselves during this Apocalypse.

I call them Evacuees, Helpers, Preppers, Looters, and Homesteaders. These categories can really apply to any horrendous situation, whether that be in the confines of a family, or a natural disaster.

It takes all kinds of people to make a community. There is no judgment in my evaluation of how people have chosen to respond. It is completely understandable that people do what they need to, to take care of themselves.

The Evacuees left our area as quickly as possible. They saw the writing on the wall - that this was not going to be an easy fix. Some got out to save themselves, either by being evacuated by helicopter, or finding their own way out. Some left because they knew they would be a burden, and didn’t want to draw on resources. Some of them are relocating permanently. Others plan to be away for six months to a year, until their homes or properties become inhabitable.

The Helpers saw the extent of the devastation, took an inventory of their skill sets, and immediately stepped in to assist, wanting to ensure our community was safe and protected.

Like our friend Brock who couldn’t get to work after the hurricane, because his road washed away. So he built a new road in a location that was deemed impassable, to allow access for his entire neighborhood.

Or our neighbors and first responders Rob and his wife Jen, who hiked several miles over a mountain, in the dark, on Day One, to attend to three people trapped in their home, destroyed by a mudslide. Each person sustained compound fractures or crushed ribs. Jen and Rob stayed with the injured overnight, until they could be evacuated in the morning.

Or our next-door neighbor and first responder Erik, who saved a man and his dog who were buried in mud up to their chests.

Or my husband Jeff, who is still coordinating supply donations and communication.

These are just things that people did before outside help showed up. Some people stepped up and became the solution. Some went into overdrive with helping, and worked non-stop 16 hour days until our fire chief told them to take a mandatory day or week off. You can’t help when you are overly exhausted and strung out.

Some Helpers are still showing up, even though it’s been a month, and lots of outside help has since intervened. They are playing the long game, and are committed to building this brave new world.

The Preppers came into their heyday right from Day One. They have anticipated an apocalypse for decades; even longed for it. Their homes are fully stocked with food. They have generators and wells. Some of them even have solar power. All of them have a variety of weapons. They eagerly embraced the devastation and collapse of society as we know it. They have been oddly gleeful through this whole experience. Their eccentric commentary and lifestyle are what have made them the most resilient camp.

Looting became a legitimate concern early on, with people coming into Gerton to pillage homes and businesses. Even some people within our community began doing this on Day One. It was like the Wild West here during the first few weeks; chaotic, and lawless. Some people had the attitude that you should just take everything you can because you don’t know when more will show up. A couple of Airbnb guests from Florida looted our general store on Day One, robbing the owner of merchandise that his insurance company will not reimburse because there is no evidence of it existing anymore. These are the Looters.

A lot of people wanted to stay, because of the lawlessness. They wanted to protect what is theirs. They refused to be evacuated. Or they didn’t have money to evacuate. These people remained even though they shouldn’t - because their homes were damaged, and mold was growing on the walls, or because they didn’t have generators, or water. Or their roads were gone. These are the Homesteaders.

A significant portion of our resources went towards attending to the Homesteaders during the first month. They couldn’t get from their homes to the fire station to collect supplies or get hot meals. So every day, twice a day, food and supplies had to be brought to them. Some of them needed medical attention, like having new oxygen tanks brought to them each day because each tank only lasted for four hours. Instead of the majority of our manpower being given to searching for missing people, clearing trees, and rebuilding roads, so we could get power restored, we instead had to prioritize keeping a significant number of people fed and resourced.

The common denominator of all of the people who stayed though, irregardless of their participation or burden, is that emotional response is impossible for us right now.

Emotions were there the first couple of weeks, with tears and frustration. Now they are gone, and in that vacuum, a deadening has surfaced.

For example, people who fled, or who had second homes here, are starting to reappear. They are so upset by the devastation, although to us it looks much better than it did on Day One because we have things like power and temporary roads now.

These people with fresh eyes are filled with emotion, wanting to talk through everything. Their energy is frenetic. They are inconsolable. We nod and smile, but can’t really console them.

We’re like walking dead people, devoid of emotion. It’s not callousness for us. It’s our new way of existing.

This is a trauma response. If we were to really feel the reality that we are now living in, we wouldn’t be able to function. It’s a funky version of fight or flight. We’ve shut down the parts of us that aren’t necessary for basic operations. We still can eat, shit, and sleep. We still can have basic conversations. We’re even able to engage pretty well with things not related to the emotionality of the Apocalypse. We look human, and act human, with this one exception.

There is no emotional landscape for our current reality.

This is unspoken among those of us who stayed. We don’t sit around analyzing our lack of emotional response to the Apocalypse. It’s just a given - a way of life for us right now.

This is resilience in action. This is what you do when there isn’t the luxury of self-care or being non-functional.

There was who we were before the flood. And who we are now, after the flood. We’re not putting on brave faces, and pretending to be okay. We’re simply rewired. Like a setting in our DNA has forever changed.

It’s like one day you’re shopping at Whole Foods complaining about people’s attitudes, and the next day you’re living in a war zone. Priorities change real fast.

Santa Claus is climbing back up the chimney. The Tooth Fairy has run out of money. We now live in a devastated world.