Last ones in Paradise: Camp Fire survivors live on in apocalyptic fire zone

Nov. 13--PARADISE -- "Sorry to say, but if it gets down to it, there's plenty of deer still around here, and we can eat," said Brad Weldon, 63, one of the few people in Paradise who refused to leave their homes when the Camp Fire tore through last Thursday, destroying 90 percent of all the homes in this mountain town of 27,000 southeast of Chico.

He somehow saved his house off Skyway with five-gallon buckets after the town's water gave out and is now rationing his supplies while the burn zone is on lockdown. "I think of myself as a survivor, not a survivalist."

It's hard to tell exactly how many holdouts are left. Law enforcement has told them that they're not allowed to venture off their property in case they are mistaken for looters, pick through ruins that might have human remains or encounter the numerous hazards of downed trees and power lines. And if they leave town for supplies, roadblock officers won't let them back in.

"We're told there are two old men living up in the cemetery," said Arianne Harvey, 17, who stayed with her family on their cousin's 33 acres off Neal Road, across town from Weldon's place. But it could just be a ghost story.

After all, it's been pretty spooky in the fire zone. Smoke blocks the stars at night and filters the blood orange sun in the morning, making it easy to lose track of days. All the neighbors are gone, their houses incinerated. Even the birds flew away.

"It's really weird. There's nobody and nothing," said Arianne's mother, Krystin Harvey. "It's lonely. It's eerie. It's scary."

But those who remain behind are convinced they did the right thing and are determined to make do until authorities allow residents back in, which could be days or weeks.

In the meantime, they are on alert. Weldon -- a retired master carpenter -- keeps his Remington "home defender" shotgun at the ready. The other night, he saw flashlights scanning his neighbor's smoldering property -- a sure sign of looters, he said. He pumped his shotgun, he said, the tchick-tchick echoing through the burned forest. "They know what it is," Weldon said. "They take off."

Weldon stayed, he said, because his 90-year-old blind mother, Norma, didn't want to leave. He and his mother's caregiver, 27-year-old Michiel McCrary, fought the blaze together. Weldon has been through a lot in recent years -- his wife of more than 30 years died three years ago. He didn't want to lose his house, too.

On Monday -- five days after the fire wiped out 6,435 homes and more than 200 businesses in town -- Weldon took stock of his supplies.

He has siphoned just about every ounce of gas out of his two trucks for use in the generator, which keeps the lights on and the refrigerator cold and runs his mother's nebulizer for her lung treatment.

"I left a little in my work van and a quarter tank is left in the Yukon in case we have to get out," he said.

If he keeps the generator running eight hours a day, he figures the gas should hold out until Wednesday -- Thursday tops. His water supply -- including two cases of bottled water for drinking and water in the hot tub for bathing -- should last a little longer.

"Fuel and water are our concern," he said. He spray-painted an appeal on a piece of corrugated metal and propped it at the end of his driveway: "NEED H2O & GAS PLS!"

He's annoyed that patrol officers won't let him in and out -- and he may have to resort to skirting the law.

"There's all kinds of ways I know how to sneak in and out of here," he said. "If they want to make criminals out of good people, that's their choice."

He'd rather they not, he said. He's a law-abiding man, he said, who takes good care of his mother and plays her soothing music.

On Monday, the outdoor speakers on his deck -- something he turns up for parties -- blared "Young Folks," a haunting, ethereal melody by Peter Bjorn and John that wafted up the long driveway.

"... if you knew my story word for word

had all of my history

would you go along with someone like me ..."

He's got his mother and her caregiver and two small dogs, Falcor and Georgie. But for the past five days, Weldon has been feeling alone up here. In some ways, playing the music is like sending a signal into the abyss.

"i can tell there's something goin' on

hours seems to disappear

everyone is leaving i'm still with you"

"I was tired of the quiet and the music is quite soothing for me," he said, "and if anyone is still around, they might hear it."

------

* Report an error

* Policies and Standards

* Contact Us

___

(c)2018 the San Jose Mercury News (San Jose, Calif.)

Visit the San Jose Mercury News (San Jose, Calif.) at www.mercurynews.com

Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.