by Jack Hunt
“You want to a pitch a tent?”
“Are you kidding?” Frank spat back.
Sal motioned with his arm ahead. “Look at it, Frank. We aren’t going anywhere, anytime soon. We have been zigzagging our way across back roads only to come out no further ahead. Hell, we are still closer to Clayton than we are to Queens.”
“I’m not stopping. You want to put your head down, that’s fine.”
Sal turned up the radio. News was coming in that gas stations were reporting a shortage of fuel and were turning people away.
“This is it. Just like Hurricane Katrina.”
“Well, lucky we brought some along.” Sal looked at him. “You did bring some, right?”
He glanced over at Sal and nodded. “Yeah, course I did.”
“Good, because we’re going to burn through what gas we have left real soon.”
He looked at the gas gauge and they were down to a quarter of a tank already. The constant stopping and starting and idling had caused them to burn through the little they had. Frank looked ahead and saw that the line wasn’t moving. He killed the engine and got out and went around to the back of the truck and unlocked the hardtop cover. He grabbed one of the two five-gallon gas cans that he’d stowed under a thick tarp. He wasn’t sure if it was going to be enough to get them back, but hopefully it would be enough to get them there. He’d figure out the rest later.
While he really wasn’t comfortable fueling up his truck in front of a long line of vehicles, he didn’t have much choice. He popped the gas cap on his truck and set up the funnel on a canister and then began pouring gas in while keeping an eye on the vehicles ahead. If they started moving, he would just toss it in the back and press on.
A few people got out of their vehicles and were trying to see what was holding everything up. Frank could hear them muttering. What he didn’t hear was a guy coming up the rear until he was practically right behind him.
“Nearly out of gas?”
“Huh?” He spun around and immediately took a step back. “Six feet, man.”
“What?”
“You need to keep back six feet.”
“Oh right.” When he didn’t shift his position, Frank knew he was going to be trouble. Frank was six foot, and yet this guy looked to be a few inches taller than him. Though it was dark out, he could make out that he was wearing hunter’s gear.
“Is that your truck back there?” Frank motioned with his head to a truck one vehicle behind his, hoping to switch the conversation away from gas. Amber headlights cut into the night, and there appeared to be the silhouette of two other guys inside on the passenger side.
“No, it’s my cousin’s. This is mine.” He pointed to the one directly behind him. “Yeah, we were camping just west of here when we heard on the radio that people were getting a little antsy. How about that gas shortage?”
“Yeah, crazy.”
The man nodded. “ So how much gas you got on you?” He peered into the space at the back of Frank’s truck and began to make him feel uncomfortable.
“Not a lot.”
“Oh, I dunno, you got a couple of gas cans. Seems like you’re all set.” He looked back at Frank and stepped a little closer. Frank got a whiff of his breath and smelled alcohol. Great, this is all I need.
“I was just telling my cousin Pat that this line better get moving fast or we’re going be out of fuel but um… well, you think you can spare some?”
“Really, I would like to help but I’ve got a long way to go and I’ll be lucky if I make it.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Yeah, what can you do?” Frank tried to make light of it hoping he would understand.
“No, I meant that you aren’t willing to help a neighbor. Cause I could sure use some of that gas.”
Frank stopped pouring. He pulled out the funnel and closed off the tank and was moving past the man to put the gas can into the back of his truck when the man placed his hand on top of Frank’s.
“You sure you won’t reconsider?”
“Like I said, I’ve got a long way to travel.”
He pulled the canister away from the man’s hand and slid it back into his truck, and was bringing down the hard top when he heard a gun cocking.
NINETEEN
Frank felt the hard tip of the barrel press into his rib cage. The man eyed him and looked around to see if anyone was looking but no one was. It was too dark and his vehicle was blocking the way.
“That’s it, go ahead, take out that canister.”
“You don’t want to do this,” Frank said trying to give him fair warning.
“Just pull out the canister and hand it over to me.”
Frank reached in and dragged the canister back. The man took hold of it and placed it down by his feet. “Okay, and the next.”
Frank shot him a glance as if to make it clear that he wasn’t going to give him another. The guy must have picked up on it as he dug the barrel a little deeper. “Like I said.”
He leaned in and grabbed the next one. “That’s it, nice and easy.”
This time as Frank pulled the steel canister towards him, he did two things: As he slid it out of the back of the truck, in one smooth motion he swiped with his free hand at the guy’s hand that was holding the handgun in his side, and with the other he swung the gas canister striking him across the jaw and sending him reeling back. As he collapsed to the ground, Frank reached around to the small of his back and pulled his Glock.
By the time the guy knew what had hit him, he was staring down the barrel of Frank’s Glock. The sound of doors being opened, and two men rushing to help their buddy was met by Sal’s voice.
“Stay right where you are. You move an inch, and I’ll tear you a new one.”
The man’s gun had slid under his vehicle so he couldn’t have reached for it even if he wanted but there were two guys aiming rifles at Frank, and Sal was aiming a shotgun at them.
“Get the hell up, and go back to your vehicles. Just because the world is going to shit, it doesn’t mean you assholes have to act like animals. Neither does it give you a right to demand what is not yours.”
The hunter on the ground shuffled back nervously. Perhaps his pals could have taken Frank down but they had a less than fifty-fifty chance of surviving a shot from Sal. Actually, it was probably higher than that if they knew how bad Sal was at shooting but appearances were everything.
The hunter nodded and narrowed his eyes as he got back into his truck.
Thankfully it wasn’t Frank that decided to veer out of the traffic. The truck behind them pulled out and his buddies’ truck did the same. They watched the red rear lights become a speck in the distance before both of them got back into the truck. Curious and scared riders in cars beside them looked on with mouths agape.
When Frank got back in, he looked at Sal and smirked.
“I’ll tear you a new one?”
“What? It worked, didn’t it?”
“About as well as me pretending to be a cop,” Frank replied.
Both of them laughed and Frank’s eyes darted to his mirrors out of habit. He wanted to make damn sure they weren’t coming back. He had just about had his fill of dealing with boneheads for one day. But it demonstrated something. That situations could turn fast and if this was a sign of what was to come, it wasn’t going to be good. Things would only get worse when people began to feel the pinch as the country around them responded to the pandemic.
Frank went through his usual routine of sanitizing his hands and any areas of skin that had been exposed. There was no telling if the guy was infected. Though his hands had been covered by gloves and he’d been wearing eyewear and a mask, it didn’t matter. His mind would tell him he had come in contact with bacteria. Sal didn’t say anything. He’d got used to seeing him go through the process. It was quick and in a matter of minutes his pulse wasn’t racing as fast.
“You moved pretty fast,” Sal said.
“It wasn’t the first time,” Frank
muttered.
“You mean people have tried to rob you of gas before?”
He turned over the engine as the traffic started to shift forward. The truck crawled ahead and he felt a sense of relief wash over him.
“No, I mean I have been in dire situations like this before. Actually, you’ll get a kick out of this. In my days in the military, there was this one guy. He went by the name of Red. Anyway, he would creep up on you and try to kill you.”
Sal frowned. “Like kill, kill?”
“No, he wouldn’t kill but he would make you think you were going to die.”
“Sounds like a swell guy.”
Frank smiled. “Things you do when you are stuck in the middle of Iraq with some down time. In honesty, the guy was a bit of a head case but it worked. The way he saw it was if you could handle a surprise attack, you’d be ready when the real thing happened. He’d come at you with all manner of things. A gun to the back, a rifle up against your neck, a machete, you name it. One guy got hurt but that was his own fault, he shouldn’t have reacted the way he did. Anyway he learned a valuable lesson.” Frank laughed at the memories. “I guess some things stick.”
Sal shook his head. “Crazy. What happened to him? Red, I mean.”
“He stood on a land mine. It blew off both legs.”
“That’s… some seriously fucked-up karma.”
Frank grinned. “That’s what I thought.”
The traffic crawled forward and they were beginning to second-guess the decision to come off I-81 and go south on 177. It would take them past Copenhagen and through state forest. Sal noted that several cars were pulling off to the hard shoulder and calling it a night. There were no motels in the immediate area and Frank sure as hell wasn’t going to sleep in some pubic-hair infested rat hole.
They had been sitting in the traffic for over two hours now. It was like watching paint dry. They would move a few feet and then it would come to a halt for another ten minutes and then it would move again, then it might not move for twenty. It was painful and driving him up the wall. All he could think about was Ella.
“Frank, I know you don’t want to stop but it might be worth our while pulling off to one side. I know for one I’m starving and could really use a hot meal and a few hours’ rest.”
“You slept.”
“I had my eyes closed.”
“I asked you if you wanted me to turn the radio off and you didn’t reply.”
“You interrupted my peace.”
Frank shook his head. As much as he was determined to get there, the reality was, they weren’t make any significant progress. He had contemplated pulling off to the side and trying to navigate his way along the outside on the hard shoulder but others had the same idea and it was just as jam-packed.
“Okay, maybe just a few hours.”
Sal slapped his hands together like he had just hit the jackpot. “Done!”
Frank tapped on his turn indicator and pulled in behind a group of vehicles that had veered onto a dirt road that led into Tug Hill State Forest. It was pitch-dark, there were no stars or moon out that night and the only light came from headlights. The truck bumped its way along the dirt road and Frank killed the engine about half a mile from the main road. Both of them hopped out and groaned as they stretched their limbs. Instead of pitching a tent, they just decided to lift the hard top and roll out a couple of sleeping bags. A short distance from the truck Sal put together a little fire pit out of rocks and then filled it with some dry wood. That was the only thing that was going for them right now. Sal tried to keep Frank’s spirit positive by telling him it would all turn out fine. He didn’t buy into it but he would have been lying to say that he wasn’t glad that Sal had decided to come along.
Around them in different parts of the forest, close to the dirt road, other vehicles parked and set up camp for the night. Frank’s stomach had been grumbling but he had been trying not to dwell on it. After they got a fire going, Frank pulled out some MRE’s and heated up some soup. They scooped the gunk masquerading as real food into their mouths like they hadn’t eaten in several days. Neither of them complained.
“What are you doing?” Sal asked, still eating away as Frank wrapped up some ammo, the shotgun and the rifle in a tarp along with some basic survival essentials. Next he wandered off into the brush.
“Taking precautions.”
He was going to stow them in an area that was away from the vehicle. With so many people parked nearby and the situation getting worse, he wasn’t going to take any chances. After the incident with the hunters, he was beginning to expect that it wouldn’t be the last time they saw trouble. He could have locked it away in the truck but it could be stolen. Along with the two rifles, he hid a bag full of MRE’s, a Life Straw, water purification tablets, a tarp, matches, sanitizer, a small first-aid kit and a flashlight. Just some of the essentials. He wasn’t going to put his entire bag over there but he was going to make damn sure he had a backup. They had to think that way now. The evening had taught him that others wouldn’t think twice about stealing their supplies if it meant surviving. It wasn’t personal, but people would do whatever they had to if it came down to their life versus his.
When he returned, Sal was laying in the back of the truck inside his sleeping bag talking on the phone to Gloria. Frank didn’t intend to fall asleep. He didn’t sleep much at night as it was. He was lucky if he got four or five hours of rest a night. He checked his magazine in the Glock and slammed it back in. To say he was on edge would have been an understatement. He tried texting Ella but got no response, and his phone calls went to voicemail. He was beginning to wonder if they had confiscated Ella’s phone.
He heard Sal wrap up his conversation with his wife and then sigh.
“Everything okay with the kids?”
“Yeah. She’s nervous about sleeping there alone but no trouble so far.”
“She’ll be okay.”
“Frank, I appreciate you letting us stay there. I know it’s difficult for you to share the same quarters with anyone but…”
“It’s fine.”
Frank hopped up onto the back of the truck.
“You going to get some sleep?”
“No, I’m going to stay awake. We’re only going to be here a few hours, right?”
“Right,” Sal tried to reassure him. “Try to get an hour, Frank, you’ll feel better for it,” he said before rolling over and getting comfortable. Frank stared at his phone and flicked through some of the photos of Kate, Ella and himself. Life meant very little without those he loved.
“HOW MANY HOURS are you guys going to keep us in here? When is Ella going to get her phone back? We know our rights!” Tyrell shouted at the two guards. He’d been trying to get out of the small enclosure they had placed them in since being shoved inside. It only opened from the outside using a zipper, though that hadn’t stopped Tyrell from trying his luck. In the end a guard came over and pointed his gun at him and since then Tyrell had been reeling off his constitutional rights.
“I demand a lawyer.”
“Shut the hell up,” one of the soldiers said in a way to suggest that he was tired of listening to Tyrell harp on.
“What’s your name and badge number, soldier?”
“Tyrell, enough!” Gabriel bellowed. “You’re only going to make things worse.”
“Worse? How could it get any worse?”
“I can tell you,” Jason piped up. “A friend can ask you to help him and then you can find yourself staring up at six gun barrels,” Jason said glaring at Gabriel. He had been dragged into the same isolation area and was laying on a bed across from Gabriel.
“I told you, man, I’m sorry.”
“Where were you? Cause I didn’t see no broken window.”
“Change of plans,” Gabriel replied.
“Yeah, I bet. You used me as bait.”
“Ah put a sock in it. You did the same thing to me when I was caught with all that open alcohol in the car.”
&nbs
p; “That was a mistake.”
“Bullshit.”
“Would you two both stop it?” Hayley asked. Ella looked on listening to the back and forth between them all. Frustration had spilled over and none of them were taking it well. They all looked like caged animals involved in some government experiment. Every now and again another masked-up FEMA employee would come in with another college student and perform a series of tests on them. The look on their face was the same as everyone else. Shock, disgust, anger and confusion.
Ella’s stomach grumbled and she was beginning to get thirsty.
“Anyone else hungry?”
“Oh yeah, that’s another thing,” Tyrell said hopping up from his cot and tapping on the plastic. “When are we going to get fed? This is starting to become a human rights violation. Believe me, when this shit is over, I’m going to be taking names, and you my friend, especially you,” he pointed to one soldier who had pointed a gun at him, “your ass is going to be dragged through the courts.”
FEMA wasn’t taking any chances. They were isolating them from each other and the rest of the campus and no amount of talking to them was getting them closer to being released. As the entire makeshift tent had an open concept except for the compartments they were in, they could see further down the middle to some of the other areas. She saw a campus public safety officer who’d been watching them all but hadn’t said a word.
“Hey you.”
The guard pointed to himself.
“How did you wind up in here?”
“I manned the gate. I was one of the first they brought in. I still don’t get it. I was wearing a mask and gloves. Didn’t matter to them. Did it?” he yelled, directing his anger towards one of the soldiers at the entrance.