Disaster Recovery Resources

“Hundreds of these airships escaped to Hawaii, and not only did they  bring the plague with them, but they found the plague already there  before them. This we learned, by the despatches, until all order in San  Francisco vanished, and there were no operators left at their posts to  receive or send. It was amazing, astounding, this loss of communication  with the world. It was exactly as if the world had ceased, been blotted  out. For sixty years that world has no longer existed for me. I know  there must be such places as New York, Europe, Asia, and Africa; but not  one word has been heard of them—not in sixty years. With the coming of  the Scarlet Death the world fell apart, absolutely, irretrievably.

Ten  thousand years of culture and civilization passed in the twinkling of an  eye, ‘lapsed like foam.’ “I was telling about the airships of the rich. They carried the plague  with them and no matter where they fled, they died. I never encountered  but one survivor of any of them—Mungerson. He was afterwards a Santa  Rosan, and he married my eldest daughter. He came into the tribe eight  years after the plague. He was then nineteen years old, and he was  compelled to wait twelve years more before he could marry. You see,  there were no unmarried women, and some of the older daughters of the  Santa Rosans were already bespoken. So he was forced to wait until  my Mary had grown to sixteen years. It was his son, Gimp-Leg, who was  killed last year by the mountain lion.

“Mungerson was eleven years old at the time of the plague. His father  was one of the Industrial Magnates, a very wealthy, powerful man. It was  on his airship, the Condor, that they were fleeing, with all the family,  for the wilds of British Columbia, which is far to the north of here.  But there was some accident, and they were wrecked near Mount Shasta.  You have heard of that mountain. It is far to the north. The plague  broke out amongst them, and this boy of eleven was the only survivor.  For eight years he was alone, wandering over a deserted land and looking  vainly for his own kind. And at last, travelling south, he picked up  with us, the Santa Rosans. “But I am ahead of my story. When the great exodus from the cities  around San Francisco Bay began, and while the telephones were still  working, I talked with my brother. I told him this flight from the