Joel was born without the ability to hear. The doctors said they had procedures that could allow him to hear, but he was the son of a farmer in Oklahoma. They would never save enough to pay for one of those procedures. He wasn''t bitter, silence was all he ever knew. His father wasn''t an intelligent man. Though he tried to learn sign language, he grew frustrated with it and soon stopped trying. Joel learned the routines of the farm and focused on his choirs. When something needed to be done, or information needed to be passed along, it was in the form of a note on the fridge.


    Joel didn''t hear the explosions the night before. Their farmhouse was tucked between two high hills. The entire property, north of the house, was dense woods. These features, and the fact that no bombs exploded within ten miles of the farmhouse, allowed the property to remain unaffected by the damaging winds. Less than an hour after the attack, Joel woke up. He was always up before daylight. He stood and stretched. After a final yawn, he exited the room. He gave the bedroom light switch a perfunctory flip, but nothing happened. Leaning back into the room, he gave the switch a few more flips before deciding the bulb was out. He felt his way down the dark hallway. The bathroom offered no illumination. The same for the extra bedroom. He tried the switch for the kitchen lights, with the same results.


    Joel stalked across the kitchen, careful not to kick, or snag, anything. He found the cover of the breaker box and opened it. He had no way to read the panel, but none of the breakers felt tripped, and they all faced the “on” direction.


    Dad didn''t pay the light bill again.


    Joel''s father only kept one flashlight, and it was in his dad’s pickup. Instead, he favored the old-style kerosene lamps. He said it was because they always worked if they had fuel and a wick. He didn’t trust battery-powered flashlights, with their loose connections, and corroding batteries. Joel knew the real reason was because a few dollars’ worth of kerosene would fuel their lamps for a year. Joel believed that most of his father’s philosophies in life were directly related to being a cheap bastard.


    He felt his way to the fridge and walked his hands over the counter beside it as he felt for the lamp. Finding it, he located the drawer beneath the lamp. Joel brought out a box of matches. He lit one for light, and quickly readied the kerosene lamp to be lit. Using another match, he ignited the wick and lowered the globe back down. Joel spun toward the refrigerator and saw his father had left a note. He walked closer and positioned the lamp above the note.


    “I’ll be back day after tomorow. I put $300 under the bible on the coffee table. Take the truck in to town and get 5 bags of cow pelits and a salt lick. The truck had a flat tire when I left. Put the spare on and get a used tire while your in town. Make sure its got lots a tred still on it. Check for bubbles or uneven tred ware. Use whats left over and get any food we need.


    Joel was so distracted by the power being off, he forgot his father left at midnight. It was a four-hour drive to the Woodward auction. His father had to be there, and unloaded, by the time the auction started.


    Joel’s father believed the animals eat before the people did. Joel didn’t think it mattered, plus his father wasn’t there. He quickly ate a bowl of cereal before he started his tasks.


    Sunrise was a couple of hours away. Joel walked outside and found a strange fog. He noticed the yellow hue of the fog, but he attributed it to the amber glow of the lamp. The air smelled of chemicals, but Joel ignored it, too. This was farmland and crop dusting was common on the surrounding farms. Joel assumed a neighbor had sprayed overnight.


    He made quick work of his jobs and headed back into the house. The sun was just about to pop over the hills, so he went ahead and changed the tire, figuring he could take a nap after. The feed store didn’t open for a few more hours, so Joel washed up and let himself take a rare nap.


    Joel woke up to the light of day, but it seemed off. It wasn''t the vibrant, crisp light he was used to. It seemed muted and dull. Without power, his digital clock couldn''t tell him what time it was. He rose from his bed and put on shoes. He walked to the window to try to gauge what time of day it was. Everything was shrouded in a sickly yellow haze. Joel walked through the house and headed outside. As far as he could see, it was the same yellowness. It was the most bizarre thing he had ever seen.


    Oklahoma was known for its finicky weather. Violent storms, tornadoes, or chilly nights could turn into sweltering days. Months with no rain, followed by months of flooding. He thought he had seen all there was to see. His first thought was of grassfires, but he abandoned that theory. Smoke smells like smoke, always. The smell outside was not smoke. The smell was the same as earlier, but not as strong. Though the yellow fog was strange to him, it didn''t seem to be anything dangerous. As he walked to the pickup, he tried to decide what the fog was. He chalked it up to being a freak dust storm or a bumper season for pollen. The screech of the rusty pickup door pulled him from his contemplations. He had work to do.


    Joel slid into the weathered seat. The key waited in the ignition. He pressed down on the clutch and twisted the stainless-steel key. Nothing happened. There were no lights, and the starter did not crank. After popping the hood, and tinkering with a few things, Joel decided the battery was dead. They had a battery charger that could jump an engine, but without electricity, it was useless.


    Why did you have to forget to pay our electricity, again?


    Joel decided to walk into town and have the feed delivered. He knew the owner of the feed store. He knew the man would give him, and the feed, a ride home. He returned to the house to grab a few things. He stuffed a few bottles of water, and some Pop Tarts, into a backpack and headed out.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    It was about two miles to the highway, and from there, another three miles to the feed store. Joel had made the trek before, and it only took a couple of hours. It took less time if he jogged some of it. There were no houses between his house and the highway. He jogged the first three-quarters of the way to the highway. The last half mile was paved, and by the time he reached the asphalt, he was ready to walk. Joel reached the highway and noticed that the yellow haze was still around. It reached as far as he could see. The roads around there weren’t very busy, but after a half hour on the highway, the lack of traffic was noticeable. Joel began to get a feeling of unease about the haze, and the seemingly abandoned roadway. He became more anxious. His pace increased.


    Joel was a couple of miles down the highway when he came upon a car stranded in the ditch. The car veered off the road and slammed into a steel pipe fence. Joel approached the car. Immediately, he knew something was wrong. The driver’s window was smeared with blood and streaks of dark matted hair. The driver’s head and shoulder leaned against the door and window.


    He searched the highway, in both directions, but saw nothing. Being deaf, and mute, Joel never bothered with carrying a cell phone. He could not call for help, and he knew help was nowhere close. He knocked on the side of the car to alert the occupant that he was there. He slowly approached the driver’s door. Joel didn’t bother knocking. He grabbed the door handle and carefully opened the door.


    Joel never tried to use his voice. Aside from the odd yelp, when he stumped a toe or cut a finger, he was always silent. However, as the corpse tumbled out of the car, Joel was anything but silent. A sound, like a honking goose, was forced from his mouth. It was immediately replaced by the sound of powerful retching, as Joel expelled that morning’s cereal.


    From head to toe, the deceased woman was covered in blood. Her eyes and ears ran dark with it. Crimson rivulets flowed from her nose and mouth. The deflated airbag was mostly crimson, and the seat absorbed enough blood to leave a silhouette of the driver.


    What he saw convinced him there was danger. Joel judged that this death was the result of being stabbed or shot. That amount of blood meant it happened multiple times. Joel was raised slaughtering their animals. It was a way of life and routine. Joel was no detective, but he knew this happened recently. The blood on her body was dry, but the thicker areas, like her hair and where the body sat, were still wet.


    Joel’s thoughts were frantic. looked around for help. His normal self-consciousness about his voice was gone, as he screamed for help. If anybody were around to hear, they would not discern his yells were pleadings for help, but were more likely to liken them to the guttural bellows of a mother cow looking for her calf.


    "MUUMP, MUUMP, UUUMP." Joel continued to yell, hysterically.


    He realized there was no help coming. He took a final look at the grizzly scene, and he sprinted off. He ran as fast as his legs would go. The adrenaline propelled him faster and further than he would normally be able to achieve. He made it the last mile in no time.


    Even from a distance, the barrenness of the city was apparent. There weren’t any cars driving around. No people coming and going from the businesses. A few cars were sitting in ditches or oddly parked in front of a building. A semi was stalled in the middle of a red-light intersection. There were even a few silhouettes of what appeared to be people laying on the ground or in parking lots. It was a strange and eerie scene. As the scene unfolded, Joel was overcome with panic and anxiety. To top it off, was the all-encompassing yellow haze.


    Joel ran for the nearest building. It was a Valero gas station. There were no cars in the parking lot, and the door was still locked. He knew this store opened at 5 a.m. He ran through the cross street, to the Bank, but it was empty and locked, too. Next was Tupelo Elementary School. There were no kids to be seen. All the buses were still parked out back, in the bus parking lot. There were a few faculty cars parked out front, but every entrance was locked. All the interior lights were off. Joel felt confused about what day it was. He ran it through his mind and decided it was not the weekend.


    What the hell is going on?


    Frantic and full of ever-growing dread, Joel continued. He saw a dead body down the street, in the motel parking lot. There were a few cars there, and a giant tour bus, but the thought of seeing another dead body, up close, drove Joel to turn away from the street and down a side road. He didn''t know where he was going. In his panic, he wasn''t thinking coherently enough to remember the layout of the town. He noticed the police station and ran for it.


    Joel ran up to the station door and yanked at it. It was unlocked. He blew past the vacant receptionist desk and ran into the station. The first thing he saw was the back of a dispatcher, slumped over her station, headset on her head, and blood dripping off the table. It pooled in a puddle of crimson on the floor.


    Please, God, help me. What''s going on?


    Joel continued past the dispatcher, to the closed door of the police chief. He shoved the door open, only to see another dead body. This time, he was spared the gory scene. The legs of the unseen police officer stuck out from behind the massive oak desk. Joel didn''t bother a closer inspection. He rapidly spun and exited the station.


    He searched the nearby streets for signs of anything helpful. Everywhere he looked, he saw either crashed cars, dead bodies, or businesses and homes that should be lively, but were solemn and motionless. His thoughts, once frantic and fearful, dulled into shock and confusion. Joel wondered, aimlessly. He abandoned the roads and meandered in a straight line toward the other end of town. He cut across yards and through allies. The only people he found were soaked in blood and dead. There wasn''t a single light on. Not a single "OPEN" sign or neon light worked.


    Slowly, Joel realized that his father hadn’t forgotten to pay the electricity bill. The power was out, everywhere. That realization brought his attention to his father.


    Please, Lord, let my dad be ok. Please! I''ll do anything, God. Let him be alive.


    Without knowing it, Joel had let himself wander back to his side of town. He returned to the Valero gas station. Joel was in full-on shock, now. He had seen too much. There were too many questions and too many dead bodies. His mind could not take it…neither could his legs. His body was shaking, and he felt light-headed. He hurried off the road and sat on the concrete, his back against a fuel pump. His head tilted against the cool metal. He closed his eyes. Joel wanted to pray, but instead, he began to sob.


    If Joel hadn''t closed his eyes to cry, he might have seen the semi-truck creeping down the street. If he wasn''t def, he may have heard the hum of the diesel engine. If Joel wasn’t shaking from fear and dread, then he might have felt the low vibrations of the massive truck’s engine. He would have found relief, knowing that there was another living, breathing, person.


    He didn''t see the truck, though. He didn''t hear the engine humming. He just leaned against the fuel pump, with his eyes closed, trembling and sobbing.