by Davis, James
“Listen here son! What did I tell you about calling me old?”
“Well, if the shoe fi…” Clay started to say when the old man's hand crashed into the back of his head.
“Ouch, you crazy old bastard that hurt!” Clay exclaimed rubbing the back of his head. The table erupted into laughter
“I told you not to call me old” Dub said as he barely contained his own laughter.
“To be fair, he did tell you not to call him old.” Hank said still laughing.
“You can kiss my ass Hank,” Clay replied still rubbing the back of his head.
“Don't feel special, me and Jeff here have caught that smack at least once a day our entire lives. Probably have his damn handprint emblazoned on the back of our heads,” Randy said with a light chuckle.
“That’s why we both went to college in Texas. Dad would have showed up to the school just to smack the shit out of us once a week.” Jeff said between laughs.
“After college we both found jobs there and stayed until Momma got sick. When that happened, we both moved back home to help Dad take care of her and work on the farm and the bunker. We didn’t ever get married or anything, so it was real easy to pack up and haul ass back home.”
“After my Rosie passed, we collected the life insurance money and used it to finish the bunker. Rosie loved working on that damn thing. We spent the last 15 years building it together.” Dub said wiping away a single tear. He pushed himself away from the table and stood to gather up everyone’s plates. He placed the stack of dirty dishes in the sink and stood there trying to get his emotions under control. Clay didn't ever have the pleasure of meeting Rose but he thought back to all of the late night conversations he and Dub had. He knew what Rose had meant to him. She was the love of his life. My little honey dumplin', he always called her. Losing her was the worst pain he'd ever felt. He remembered Dub telling him he would take her place a thousand times over if the good lord would allow it.
“Follow me, I want to show y'all something.” Dub said turning and pointing at Clay and Hank. They followed Dub to a small shed situated at the back of the house. Dub reached in his pocket and pulled out a keyring, which held no more than five keys. Selecting a small shiny Master Lock key, he slid it into the padlock on the door. With a quick twist, the lock opened and Dub was pushing them inside. As they stood waiting for their eyes to adjust to the dark room they could hear Dub opening another padlock somewhere in the dark room. Just then a bright white light flooded up from the floor, causing the brothers to shield their eyes from the blinding beams of light.
“Damn Dub, you could have warned us before burning our retinas out.” Clay said in an almost whiny tone.
“Oh, quit your bellyaching and get your asses down here.” Dub’s voice came from somewhere underneath them. After their eyes finally adjusted they could see a trapdoor opened on the floor with a long set of wooden steps leading down.
“Well I'll be damned.” Clay said in a surprised voice as the pair started down the long stairway. When they reached the bottom, they each looked around, amazed at the sheer size of the room.
“What the hell is this? A shipping container?” Clay yelled as he searched the room for Dub who could not be seen from where they were standing. The room was at least 40 feet long and 12 feet wide. The back of the room was a full size kitchen with cabinets and everything else one would expect to find. The half they were standing in was a living area that consisted of a large sectional, coffee table, one recliner with a accent table next to it, and what had to be at least a 70 inch flatscreen television mounted to the container wall.
“Y'all come in here,” Dub said poking his head around a doorway the two hadn't noticed yet. They walked into another container, only this one was stocked with an assortment of food and large blue 5 gallon jugs of water. When they didn't see Dub appear they looked for another doorway. Spotting it almost immediately Hank pointed and said.
“Over there,” as he pointed toward the far end of the container. As they got closer to the door they could hear a faint voice surrounded by static. Inside they could see Dub sitting at a workbench on the back wall. It contained what looked to be an old ham radio system.
On that half of the container there were parts and pieces of other radios, as well as a few large spools of cable and spare sections of antenna scattered along the container walls. The opposite side held ammo crates stacked five high and ten deep.
“There has to be at least a hundred thousand rounds here,” Clay said as he stared in awe. More static filled the container, followed by Dub’s voice echoing off of the container walls,
“Stop playing with yourselves and get in here!” Hank and Clay were laughing at Dub’s choice of words when they stepped through the doorway, and into the radio room.
“Come over here and grab a seat and shut your pie holes for a minute. I got some things to tell you.” Clay and Hank sat down, trying to hold back their laughs but failing miserably.
“Whenever you girls are done cackling I’ll begin.” Dub said, staring at them with his arms crossed over his chest and a stern look etched on his face. Clay and Hank immediately stopped laughing when they saw Dub giving them the stink eye. Clay cleared his throat,
“Alright, sorry. Go ahead.” Dub turned back to the radio, eyeing Clay and Hank as he turned.
“Alright, so a few months back, before the lights went out, I was down here just scanning through the channels and I ran across this guy that goes by the name of Jim Andrews. He’s a fellow radio enthusiast and we started talking a couple times a week. Anyway, he said he was a captain in the Army and that he was based in Missouri.” Clay smirked, looked at Hank then back at Dub,
“So why are you telling us about your little radio love affair with this guy?”
“Boy, don’t make me smack the shit out of you. Shut up and let me finish.” Dub said, raising his hand like he was going to smack the hell out of Clay.
“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, he’s in the Army and we’ve been talking for a few months about what he does for the Army, and about my time in Nam.
Anyway, after talking to this guy almost every day for the past few months, he and I became pretty good friends. After the lights went out yesterday he immediately got ahold of me and proceeds to tell me that someone he knows in the White House told him that North Korea had nothing to do with the EMP attack. Said it was all staged. His contact said that President Sharp authorized that attack and fed the media that line about activity at the North Korean nuclear sites. Of course we all bought it hook line and sinker after they destroyed that fleet of battleships. I think that attack on the fleet was staged just so they could create a country obliterating event like this. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if we start seeing foreign troops or U.N. soldiers over here.” Dub said in his gravelly voice.
Clay and Hank’s jaws hit the floor,
“Wait a damn minute, so you’re telling us that President Jackson fuckin’ Sharp, the leader of the free world, is responsible for all this shit that went down? No way, I don’t believe that. That’s a bunch of conspiracy theory bullshit that some wack job made up to get attention.” Hank said, throwing his hands in the air.
“Wait a minute Hank, let’s hear what else he has to say. Maybe this Jim guy is right. If it was North Korea they would have fired those missiles at densely populated areas.” Hank seemed to think about this for a second,
“Alright, let’s say President Sharp actually did this. What reason would he have to do it? He’s already the president. He literally has nothing to gain by sending the country back into the Dark Ages.” Hank said in a loud frustrated tone. Dub raised his hands, signaling for Clay and Hank to be quiet,
“Look guys, we can sit here and go back and forth about this all day. Until we talk to Jim and get some more intel, we’re wasting our time. Let me see if I can get him to pick up his radio then we’ll go from there. Sound good?” Dub asked. Clay and Hank nodded and took their seats next to Dub whi
le he called out for Jim. It wasn’t long before a man’s voice came back through the speakers,
“Hey Dub, how ya been buddy?”
“Hell you know me brother, kicking ass and taking names!” Dub said, putting up his middle finger right in Clay’s face before he could laugh or say anything about his response. Clay smacked the hand away and laughed,
“I wasn’t going to say a word,” he said, trying to hide the smirk that told everyone he was full of shit. Dub rolled his eyes and shook his head at Clay as he listened to Jim Andrews.
“So what’s going on, everything still going good over there?” Jim asked.
“Yeah everything is fine. We’re just wanting to know if you have any more information about what’s going on?” Dub asked. Static filled the room followed by silence. A few seconds later Jim cleared his throat and said.
“I’d rather not talk about this on the radio. Is there somewhere around there that we could meet in person?” Dub didn’t answer right away. He turned to look at Hank and Clay before asking for their opinion,
“What do you think? Should we meet this guy face to face or press him to talk over the radio?” Hank ran a hand through his hair and sat forward,
“Look, we need this guy. If he really does have a source inside the White House then we definitely need him. I say we agree to sit down, but we don’t tell him where we live. There’s an airport not far from here that would be perfect. The office area would make a real good spot to have a meeting.” Hank mused.
“I agree, he doesn’t need to know where we live but we do need his intel.” Clay added. Dub nodded in agreement then turned back to the radio,
“Hey Jim, sorry about the delay. Had to have a quick talk with my boys. Giving out our location isn’t something we like to do. Anyway, we found an airport that will work great for our purposes. It’s southwest of Nashville, out by Deerfield Tennessee. You are writing all this down right?” Dub asked.
“Yeah, I got it. Do you have exact coordinates?” Jim asked.
“Yep, the airport is at North 35 degrees 14 minutes 50 seconds by 87 degrees 32 minutes 17.2 seconds.” Dub replied.
“Alright, thanks Dub. I’ll see you in a couple of days. Jim out.”
Dub turned the radio off and walked over to a bench packed with radio equipment. He rummaged through the pile for a bit then pulled out a portable HAM radio.
“Here, take this with you. I’ll give ya a holler when Jim tells me he’s on his way.”
“Thanks Dub. You’re a damn fine friend!”
“Ehh, don’t mention it. Now get your ass out of here and get home to your family!” Clay chuckled,
“Yes Sir!” he said with his best mock salute.
“Boy, I work for a living, don’t you call me Sir!” Dub replied, then spun on his heels and headed for the door. Clay just shook his head and smiled as he followed Hank and Dub out of the bunker. Once they were back outside, Dub stopped in front of the massive trucks and just stared at them. A solid three minutes had passed before Dub turned to look at Clay and Hank.
“Why don’t you leave these here and take my van? You can all fit in it and still have room for your gear. I’ve got a hell of an idea for these bad boys that I think you’re going to enjoy. Don’t ask me what it is yet, cause it’s a surprise.” Clay and Hank looked at each other then shrugged.
“Makes no difference to me as long as I can get to my family.” Clay said. Dub nodded once then turned his head and shouted, getting the attention of the entire group.
“Hey Randy, run out to the barn and get the van for these guys would ya?” Clay watched as Randy took off at a jog toward the barn. A few minutes later he heard an engine growl to life. A large off white cargo van pulled out of the barn and stopped next to them in the driveway.
“Thanks again for everything Dub.” Clay said as he finished loading their stuff and climbed into the driver's seat.
“Anytime boy, anytime. Now y’all go on and get back to your family. I’ll talk to yins in a day or two.” Dub said, patting the roof of the van. Clay nodded, then put the van into gear and eased down the driveway. Seconds later he was turning on to the main road and pushing the throttle down until they were cruising at a steady 55 mph.
CHAPTER 6
“Chris? Is that you?” Ashley screamed, instantly recognizing the voice coming from the other side of the doorway.
“You expecting someone else?” he replied. Ashley dropped her pistol and threw her arms around the man, relieved to see a familiar face.
“Are you guys okay? Where’s my brother? You know this guy?” Chris asked, hardly waiting for an answer before asking the next question.
“We're fine, I think,” she began quietly, “Clay hasn't made it home yet and I don't know him from Adam.” she finished pointing to the man on the ground.
“When did you hear from him last?” he asked.
“It's been almost two days now. He asked me to pick up some supplies for the camp just before this all happened and we've been waiting ever since.” she said as tears began to roll down her cheeks. Chris nodded, thought for a moment and then spoke,
“We need to get you and that baby to camp, then I’ll go find my brothers. You should get some rest, I'll make sure you don't get any more visitors. We'll leave as soon as the sun’s up.”
“Are you hungry? Can I get you something to drink?” Ashley asked.
“No I’m alright, thank you though. I just need to sleep for a little while. The walk here was brutal getting shot at left and right.” Chris replied with a tired smile. Ashley stood and walked over to a closet. She opened the door and pulled out two pillows and a set of fresh linens for the guest room bed.
“Go ahead and get out of your gear and I’ll go get the bed made up for you.” Ashley said as she walked across the hall to the guest room. A few minutes later she turned to leave the room but ran into Chris who was standing in the doorway watching her.
“Thanks Ash.”
“Don’t mention it. I’ll see you in the morning bright and early.” she said as she headed back to her bedroom. Chris was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. Ashley wasn’t so lucky. Her nerves were shot. She knew she wouldn’t be getting any more sleep, but she laid there with Emma anyway, waiting for morning.
*****
“Home stretch!” Hank said from the passenger seat as they pulled out onto the highway.
“Took us long enough,” Karen offered from the back seat.
Clay nodded, “seems like every asswipe in Tennessee is dead set on slowing us down.”
“I don’t think we’ll have any more problems.” Hank replied, leaning back in his seat, lifting his feet onto the dash, and closing his eyes.
“What do you think about all that Jim Andrews stuff?” Clay asked. Hank opened one eye and pondered the question in silence for a moment before running his hand through his jet-black hair and answering,
“Could be something, could be a couple old kooks with ham radios.”
“You think it could really be our government?” Karen asked, popping her head into the front between the two seats.
“Wouldn't put it past them.” Clay answered, as Hank nodded in agreement.
“Doesn't matter who it was,” Hank added, “what does matter is the power grid is down, every lowlife and his mother is out looking for trouble, and we still need to get to Ashley and Emma. We can sort out the who’s and why’s after we get them and get to the camp. For now, let’s just enjoy the ride.” he finished, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes once more. Karen rolled her eyes and sank back into her own seat as Clay drove on in silence.
“Damn it!” Clay exclaimed, startling everyone, as the van rolled to a stop in the center of the road. He put the van in park and pulled the hood release, seeing a steady stream of smoke rolling out from beneath it.
“I'll take a look,” Hank said, already climbing out of the van. Clay nodded then grabbed a bottle of water, chugging down half of it in the first gulp.
“I’m not sure, better go see what’s taking so long” Clay replied.
“So what’s the problem?” Clay asked, joining his brother under the hood.
“Good news and bad news.” Hank said in an annoyed tone. “Bad news is this piece of junk isn't going anywhere.”
“Well shit, I hope the good news is real good then,” Clay retorted.
“Well, we're not far from your house. So there’s that.” Clay looked around at his surroundings taking in the roadside,
“It looks like we’re only a few miles out now, we can easily walk the rest of the way no problem.” The group packed up what they could carry and started walking. Clay extended his arm and lifted his thumb like he was trying to catch a ride.
“Ha-ha, very funny jackass.” Karen said looking at him. All of the sudden the joke was entirely too real as they could hear whining tires and revving engines behind them in the distance.
“Get in the woods, now!” Clay shouted, grabbing onto the dogs’ collars. When the group was far enough from the road Clay and Hank dropped their packs and shouldered their AR's.
“Karen, keep Toby and Bella here, we’re going to see who these pricks are. If you hear any shots grab Toby and find somewhere to hide till you hear one of us yell for you, and keep Bella close so she can help protect you guys till we get back.” Hank said with a worried expression on his face.
“Check your rifle,” Clay said, pulling on his own charging handle. Seeing brass, he let the bolt slam home and they started to leap frog back toward the road. They spread out twenty yards apart as they got closer. Seeing two old 60s era pickup trucks approaching at a fast pace, they dropped down to a prone position and waited for them to come into their sightline. The trucks rolled to a stop next to the van, and eight armed men piled out of the trucks and started going through all the stuff they had left behind.