by Ricky Sides
The little group listened in stunned silence as the deejay listed city after city and state after state that had been hit by earthquakes so far that night. If the deejay was even close to accurate with his listed death estimates, then Jim wasn't sure that the country was any better off than they would have been had there been a nuclear war. The deejay stressed that the casualty numbers were estimates only and the actual counts could be higher or lower.
Frank said, “I'm surprised that they’re even giving out estimates this early. They generally wait days to do that.”
Jim nodded his head in agreement and was about to make a comment on that as well when the radio abruptly lost its signal. Nothing but static could be heard now.
Jim said, “We lost the signal. I don’t think it’s my equipment. I think it’s something at the station.” Turning to Frank he said, “I've heard enough to know that we need to get topside. This place is fine to shelter against a possible nuclear war. No underground soft site is recommended for surviving earthquakes, so we would be a lot safer topside.”
Thirty minutes later, Jim and the Parkers were all sitting on the ground well away from the shelter entrance. They sat on the ground waiting to see what else the night might hold in store for them.
Shirley Parker was sitting beside her now sleeping daughter. She looked exhausted but smiled gamely at her husband when he asked her if she needed to go to sleep. “Do you really think I could sleep?” she asked.
“I suppose not,” he said as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
***
Just before dawn, the ground started to shake. Gentle at first, but then with rapidly increasing force until it was shaking so badly that the surface of the earth took on the appearance of a rough sea, with ripples and waves in it.
Jim tried to stand up and maintain his footing but quickly found it impossible. Every time he tried to get to his feet he was thrown back to the ground. Giving up, he curled himself into a tight ball and rode out the quake on the ground as best he could.
From his position on the ground, Jim could see the Parkers and the vehicles. The Parkers were curled up on the ground in much the same manner as Jim. He was amazed to see the vehicles shaking violently from side to side as if they were traveling over a very bumpy road. To his dismay, he saw that his GoldWing had fallen over onto its side.
When the earthquake was over Jim sat up on the ground and called out to the Parkers, “Are you folks all right?”
Sitting up, Frank took a quick look at his family and replied, “We seem to be, but we were all pretty shaken up.”
Shirley gave her husband a disgusted look and said, “That's not the least bit funny.”
Laughing he replied, “Well I suppose it wasn't at that, Dear.”
Jim got up off the ground and walked over to his bike. It hurt him to see the beautiful bike lying on the ground on its side. He winced as he struggled to get the motorcycle standing up, but with a last, all out effort he managed to get it back into its proper upright position. He pushed the bike forward two feet, so that the kickstand wouldn’t be near the hole it had dug during the quake, leaned it gingerly on its kickstand, and then just stood there sweating for a moment.
As his breathing returned to normal, Jim looked around his retreat. He saw that during a series of quakes his radio antenna had been knocked over but that was the extent of the visible damage. The rest of the damage would be found below ground level, inside the shelter, and he didn’t intend to enter the shelter while the threat of the earthquakes loomed. He had no desire to be trapped below ground or buried alive by an aftershock.
Frank walked over to Jim and asked, “What do we do now?”
“I’ve got a good radio in my car. Let’s see what we can find out.”
Chapter 12
Three days after the earthquakes that almost destroyed America, Jim realized that things would not be returning to normal for years. There was very little radio broadcasting, and the television had nothing to offer but blank channels and static.
On the fourth day, the electricity went off. At first, Jim didn’t think much of the power failure. The power had been intermittent at best since the night of the quakes. In fact, he had lost track of how many times it had gone off and come back on. Jim was staying in his home in town in the hopes that either Pete or his brother Tim would call. He was hoping against hope that the telephone company would get the phones repaired. He had to admit to himself that this was highly unlikely. He’d seen the condition of the phone lines in the wake of the quake and knew that most of them were down.
On the tenth day following the quakes, Jim was sitting in a local restaurant when a trucker came in with some startling news. He spent time in this particular restaurant because it seemed to draw truckers by its proximity to the interstate. Even in these times, it was common for truckers to stop in for a quick meal. They were a great source of information these days.
Jim listened as the trucker told his story, “As I was saying, there is no government now. Everybody who was anybody was in shelters on the night of the quakes. Most of them were buried alive. I heard the President and most of the Senators and Congressmen went to this big military shelter built in the heart of a mountain.”
The man paused and took a sip of his water before continuing. Jim noticed that the driver’s hands were shaking. “Well? What happened to the President?” asked someone from behind Jim.
“I don’t know for sure,” the truck driver replied. “But the whole mountain was leveled by the quake that hit up there. I heard it was a really bad one.”
“Oh my god,” said a woman in the booth behind Jim.
“It’s not that bad down here but you should see what it’s like in the big cities up north,” the truck driver said. Shuddering visibly he continued, “I served in the army in Viet Nam. I saw more than my share of war and killing, but never anything like this. There are bodies everywhere you look in the big cities. Killed in car wrecks, by collapsing buildings, gas main explosions, rioting, hell, you name it.” Shaking his head sadly the man continued, “So damned many bodies.”
“Have you been through Chicago?” Jim asked the man hoping for news of that city.
The truck driver shook his head and said, “I haven’t and I won’t be going anywhere near that city. I spoke to a driver the day before yesterday. He had gone through Chicago on his way to Kentucky. He told me about the conditions there. He said armed gangs of thugs were roaming the streets and they were killing, raping, and robbing all the survivors they encountered. He said they were looting all of the bodies too.”
The truck driver stopped talking and looked around the room before continuing. When he spoke again his voice quivered as he said, “My apologies to you ladies for what I’m about to say. I know it will offend you, but you need to hear the truth about just how bad things are now.”
Glancing around, Jim observed two of the women in the room nod their heads to give the man permission to continue.
The trucker sighed as he continued his narrative, “The trucker I spoke to said he saw armed gangs dragging injured women and little girls out of the rubble. They shot any men they found with the females.”
The trucker stared down at his hands and noticed that they were shaking almost uncontrollably now. He slid them under the table and continued, “After the gangs killed all the men, they stripped the women and girls. They screamed in pain as they were being stripped. The stripping killed some who were in the worst condition.”
Jim noted tears forming in the man’s eyes as he continued. “One girl in particular stuck out. Her bone was sticking through the skin of her leg and when one gang member yanked her pants down the bone was caught on the material. The man saw what was happening but he just pulled harder. The girl screamed in agony as the bone tore the flesh of her leg. She passed out from the pain but the gang member kicked her in the ribs until she woke up and then he raped her.”
The truck driver had to stop for few moments until he regained his c
omposure and then he said, “That’s what Chicago is like. Of course, there are some people trying to help the survivors, but they won’t last long. The gangs are killing them as fast as they can locate them.”
“What about the police? Aren’t they doing anything to help the people?” asked one of the women.
“It’s open season on cops in the big cities now. Hell, I’ve seen at least a dozen cops gunned down myself. Any cop with as much sense as a cabbage has burned his uniform and left town. A lot of them have gone bad though. I’ve seen a couple of cops in one small town that have actually taken over the town. They just up and kill anyone that argues with them or causes them any trouble.”
“What about the military? Aren’t they going to help either?” asked a man beside Jim.
The trucker shook his head and sighed regretfully. “For some reason, on the night of the quakes most of our troops were in underground shelters. Rumor has it there was going to be a nuclear war. Most of the troops died in the shelters. Of the ones that survived, many deserted and went to see about their own families. Some deserted to join the roving gangs. In some cases there has been some fighting between the good troops and the ones that turned bad.”
The man beside Jim who had spoken earlier then said, “So what you’re saying is that we’re basically shit out of luck.”
“That’s the way I see it,” the trucker acknowledged.
“What are we going to do?” asked the woman behind Jim.
“I don’t know about you folks but I intend to quit the trucking business and hunker down. It is just too dangerous on the road now. Besides, who is going to pay me now? As soon as I can find someone willing to trade me a car and a rifle for my truck I intend to hunker down.”
Jim smiled and said, “It’s a deal.”
The trucker looked at Jim to see if he was serious. “I’d want to see the car and rifle first.”
Jim nodded his acceptance of this and responded, “And I’d want to look over the truck before committing myself.”
“Fair enough,” the trucker stated.
Jim and the trucker went outside to Jim’s car. The trucker examined the car with the critical eye of the professional traveler. He cranked the engine and listened to it run. Smiling in satisfaction, he said, “The car is fine, but I still need to see the rifle.”
Jim opened the trunk of the car. Inside the trunk was a wrapped bundle. Jim opened the bundle and revealed an AR-15 assault rifle. He handed the weapon to the trucker and said, “This is a good choice for a rifle because the ammunition for it is plentiful all over the country.”
With the practiced ease of the professional expert shooter, the trucker examined the weapon. “Is it hot?” he asked.
Jim responded, “Would that really matter now?”
Sheepishly the trucker responded, “Sorry, force of habit.”
Jim said, “I know what you mean and no, the rifle isn’t hot; I bought it years ago.”
“I take it this is a semi-automatic version,” the trucker observed.
“Yes it is and in most cases that’s all you’ll ever need.”
Jim looked the trucker squarely in the eyes then and sized him up. “That was really you in Chicago, wasn’t it?” He had seen the strong emotions playing across the trucker’s face as he had related the story of what the trucker had seen in Chicago. Jim was certain that unless he had physically witnessed the incidents related he would never have responded with such evident emotion.
The trucker stared hard at Jim and said, “I’ve never been to Chicago.”
“Sorry, my mistake,” Jim said mentally kicking himself for prying into the man’s affairs. It was obvious that the man was dealing with what he had seen in the only way he knew how and that was simply to deny that he had seen it. Jim was willing to bet that in a year the man might really believe that another man had witnessed those events. Jim wished him luck on that score. Sometimes it’s best to forget some things.
Changing the subject, Jim said, “Listen friend, if you are planning to settle down around here, I have a house that I might be willing to throw in for whatever you’re hauling.”
“What makes you think that I’m hauling anything of value?” The trucker asked curiously.
“I don’t think you would have hauled the trailer this long unless you had a valuable cargo,” he responded logically. Smiling he said, “If it’s a problem for you we can just stick to our original agreement.”
The trucker considered this for a moment and responded, “I’ll have to think about it.”
***
Two hours later, they had closed the deal. The truck driver had taken the entire package deal but he had bargained with Jim until the deal had been amended so that he retained half of his load of canned food.
Under the cover of darkness, Jim and the truck driver had unloaded the man’s share of the canned food and taken it into Jim’s former home.
Jim had been lucky that his house had sustained only minor damage during the earthquakes. Many of the people of the city of Athens had lost their homes that night.
Jim carried the last box of canned ham into the guest bedroom and straightened his back with a moan. The new owner of the home was standing in the hall. He said, “Thanks for helping me unload the food, Jim.”
Earlier that afternoon the man had introduced himself simply as Robert. Jim hadn’t asked him his last name. He already knew enough about the man to know that he didn’t like questions. So, when the man thanked him for helping with the unloading he said, “If I’d known how heavy this stuff was, I probably wouldn’t have volunteered.”
Jim shook Robert’s hand and then said, “Remember your promise, Robert.”
Nodding his head, Robert said, “I won’t forget. If your brother or friend comes looking for you, I’m to tell them that you said you’d be back in three weeks.”
Jim said thanks, walked into the kitchen to pick up the last bag of his personal possessions, and left without another word.
He got into the back of the truck and examined the straps that would hold the GoldWing in place. He didn’t much like trusting the straps to hold the bike but Robert had assured him that the bike would be safe unless he had a major accident. But he had cautioned him to check the straps often, because they’d loosen up over time. Jim and Robert had loaded the bike earlier in the evening using a ramp that Jim had built. He made sure the ramp was secured, jumped down to the ground and locked the doors. Just before he turned to walk to the cab of the truck, he noticed the license plate for the first time. It was an Illinois plate.
Jim smiled as he climbed into the cab of his new truck. The tag did not confirm that Robert had been to Chicago but Jim couldn’t believe that a trucker from Illinois had never been to Chicago. He was now convinced that Robert had been to Chicago and seen the atrocities that were being committed in the city.
Chapter 13
Jim drove the new truck to his retreat where he spent the night. Early the next morning he unloaded about half of the canned food, which he stored inside the shelter. With that chore accomplished, he proceeded to load a large supply of weapons inside the truck and then Jim left his retreat to go to see the Parkers.
Jim was proud of the rig. It was a Peterbuilt with a double sleeper and air conditioner. The trailer was plain and bore no insignia, which was fine with Jim. He had plans to use the trailer as a billboard when he went looking for his brother.
As he drove the truck to town, Jim reflected on his plan. He intended to drive the truck to Fort Polk, Louisiana to search for his brother. On the way, he would stop at any deserted stores that he ran across and see if there was anything of use left in them. He also thought about what he might find in Fort Polk when he reached the base. There was sure to be all manner of military equipment laying around if the survivors there had left. A brief frown crossed his face as he worried about finding his brother’s body, but Jim felt sure that his brother wasn’t dead. Intellectually, he realized that he might just be experiencing denial simi
lar to the truck driver from Illinois. In any case, he would not accept his brother’s death until he had seen the evidence that prove it.
Jim snapped himself out of his thoughts just in time to stop the big Peterbuilt at a traffic light. He had to slam on the brakes to keep from hitting another motorist on a bike who was waiting for the signal to change. He sat in the cab of his truck waiting for his nerves to calm down. He had forgotten that the big rig required much more space to stop than a normal vehicle.
When the light changed to green, Jim pulled out into traffic. He was careful as he maneuvered the Peterbuilt through the streets of the city. He arrived at the Parker’s home without further incident and breathed a sigh of relief.
Jimmy Parker came up to the truck as Jim opened the trailer doors. “Good morning,” Jim said with a smile, and then he added, “Give me a hand with these boxes.”
“Sure and good morning to you.”
Jim walked back into the trailer and grabbed the first of the boxes. He carried it to the rear of the trailer and set it down on the bed. “Ready?” he asked Jimmy. When the young man smiled and nodded Jim pushed the box off the bed of the trailer into Jimmy’s waiting hands. Jimmy grunted in surprise at the weight of the box and almost dropped it. The best that he could manage was to slow the descent of the box, which only bumped the ground with a jarring impact rather than crashing into the street.
Jim laughed at Jimmy’s facial expression and said, “I should have warned you. These boxes are heavy.”
Jimmy grumpily agreed and was about to say more when his father came out of the house and asked, “What’s going on?”
Turning to his dad, Jimmy responded, “Jim’s just trying to break my back.”