“I’m alone, too,” said Bill. “No rings here,” he continued, holding up his left hand.
“There seems to be a lot of that going around,” Julie answered, giving Jimmy a wink.
Jimmy kept moving, feeling guilty of something and knowing that he shouldn’t. Julie was just someone from his past, and Paula had left of her own free will. He began fixing his plate, spooning up hot baked beans from a crock pot and grabbing a handful of chips. He fixed himself a burger, piling on onions and pickles, slathering mustard on top of the fresh bakery bun. He picked up a spoon and a napkin and walked away from the table. Bill rambled on about his cousin, the dead doctor, to Julie behind him as Jimmy made his way to an empty picnic table.
Bill followed Julie to the table, looking as if he were trying his best not to notice the way she moved. Cindy followed Bill. Julie sat down next to Jimmy at the empty table, close enough so they touched elbows. Jimmy caught Cindy’s eye again, and again he caught the look. Her face was stern, dyed black hair falling over brooding eyes, chains jingling from her baggy trousers as she walked. Bill’s face was flush; a sheen of sweat had glazed his forehead.
“So, Jimmy,” said Julie, picking up a chip and holding it up to her mouth. “How long do you think this will last? I heard on the news that the banks are shut down indefinitely. Did you hear that?”
“No,” answered Jimmy, swallowing a mouthful of his burger. “I did hear that the National Guard has been mobilized. I don’t know. I suppose it’ll be a week or so before they can get a lid on this thing, maybe more. Maybe this will all blow over by Monday and we can come back home.”
“Right,” scoffed Julie, delicately taking a bite of her chip. “I doubt it. I think we’re in for a long haul and that the American dream is a thing of the past.”
“I’m with you,” said Bill, his mouth full of food. “I don’t think things are ever gonna be back to normal. Not the way they have been, anyhow. And we’ve got Washington to thank for it. They got us in this mess. I hate the government. I really do.”
Cindy spoke, her voice building with each word. “They told us in school that we’re in a depression and that the cycle has to run itself out. Things will turn around, and we have to believe that. Times might be hard right now, but if we all work together and try not to panic, we’ll come through this. We’re all Americans, right? As Americans we have to trust our elected officials to do the right thing, to enforce the Constitution. Ever hear of it, Dad? You might try reading it sometime.”
There was a small, spattering of applause as those within earshot showed their appreciation for what she’d said. Cindy held her head up, her jaw set.
Bill opened his mouth like a fish out of water. No words escaped.
Jimmy smiled, knowing what Cindy had said was true. She’d shut her dad down and had done so by reminding them all who they were. She sounded much older than her age, and her eyes challenged his; or maybe they were challenging Julie’s? Either way, Cindy had spoken well, and Jimmy beamed. He was so proud of her at that moment.
They finished eating. Julie’s knee casually bumping into Jimmy’s from time to time, her eyes lingering a little too long on his own. All the while, Cindy was watching as if she were Paula’s sister. After they’d finished eating, Jimmy and Julie got up together, taking their litter with them and depositing it in the big blue can next to the garage.
“So, I’ll talk to you a little later,”
“Right,” said Jimmy.
Julie gave Jimmy a flash of smile and quickly rejoined Brenda on the other side of the lawn. Brenda was drinking a beer, dressed as if she’d ridden in on a Harley. Jimmy hadn’t seen her in a few years, and those years looked like they hadn’t been good ones.
Soon everyone was joining in the cleanup. They were all anxious to get on the road. The women bustled at the tables, giving commands to their husbands and children. Ken approached Jimmy and Bill; behind him were some men from the Plant.
“We’ve got to get that truck loaded. Want to give us a hand?” Ken asked.
“Sure thing,” said Jimmy.
Ken opened the garage door, revealing a modest pile of suitcases and plastic bins. “Give me a hand with this stuff. If anyone wants to lighten their load, there should be plenty of room in the truck.”
Fifteen minutes later they were ready to go. Ken instructed everyone to follow Jimmy and said he’d follow at the end of the line. There would be no stopping along the way unless everyone stopped at the same time. Ken made that point quite clear. There was a rest area at the halfway point, and the plan was to stop there. Children were rounded up, and vehicles began to line up on the road. Jimmy turned the Mack around in a neighboring driveway, taking the lead. Bill followed. Suddenly a fist pounded on the locked passenger door. Jimmy reached over and unlocked it. The door opened.
“Want some company?” asked Julie, her eyes twinkling in the afternoon sun. She didn’t wait for an answer and nimbly hopped up into the cab.
Jimmy shrugged his shoulders. She could ride along, but he was going to use this time to make his position clear to her. He was in love with Paula. Nothing was going to happen between the two of them. Julie closed her door, and Jimmy could smell her fresh perfume, a fragrance he remembered well. Julie seemed as if she’d been frozen in time. Jimmy cracked his window and lit up a Camel.
“Still smoking?” Julie asked, sliding next to Jimmy on the bench seat.
“Yep. Buckle up. I don’t want to get pulled over.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Julie, choosing to pull the middle belt from between the seats. She slid it around her slim waist and snapped the clasp. “Relax, Jimmy,” she said with a smile. “I’m not going to attack you.”
“I’m not worried,” Jimmy lied, releasing the brakes and shifting the truck into gear.
“Good,” said Julie.
The caravan turned onto the highway, keeping close as Ken had instructed. Each one of them was leaving behind a home and a life; the few who still had jobs were leaving those behind, and every last one of them was leaving a little piece of themselves in the rearview mirrors, unsure when, if ever, they’d return. Even then, what would they be returning home to?
The traffic grew lighter with each passing mile, and they were over a hundred miles from Minneapolis before the sun began to set in the western sky. It was the last sunset that some of the travelers would ever see.
The innocence would soon be torn from their eyes as the outside world changed beyond their comprehension. They didn’t know it, but there wasn’t a single State Patrol between them and their destination. The counties had called off their cruisers, and the nearest on-duty cop was getting ready to clock out to be with his own family. The great State of Minnesota had just gone belly up. The National Guard was taking over. All city, county, and state offices had shut down. The Guard began work immediately, beginning by taking control of the prisons and jails. Hourly employees, no matter how dedicated, weren’t about to work for free when their families were home alone and left to fend for themselves.
The closing of the banks had caused the greatest wave of panic since the Cuban missile crisis. The banks were soon followed by the corporate sector. Businesses sent their people home with false promises, and trucking companies began pulling their rigs off the road. Public utilities began to blink out by late afternoon like so many bad bulbs on a Christmas tree. A mass exodus was taking place. Like rats leaving a sinking ship, the working people of America had turned tail and abandoned their posts. The afternoon rush hour was unlike any this country had ever seen.
That tidbit of information had somehow been lost by the good people at the Emergency Broadcast System who had taken control of the airwaves. They tried desperately to put a good face on the day’s events, pointing out that tomorrow was another day and playing prerecorded footage of peaceful streets in quiet towns. The last plug to be pulled by the government was the internet, leaving the American people totally in the dark and without access to any factual information.
&n
bsp; The looting had begun in New York City and spread across the country like a plague. Minneapolis was burning. Saint Paul was in shambles. People flooded the streets, and mayhem ensued. There was no one there to stop it.
The day would go down in history as the darkest America had ever known.
The caravan reached the remote rest area on Highway 53 at just after nine. Jimmy pulled the Mack into the back of the lot, and everyone else followed. Thirty miles northwest of Duluth, the facility was a popular stop for vacationers on their way to Minnesota’s Iron Range and the great wilderness beyond. They joined about half a dozen other cars in the lot. Julie and Jimmy had visited the entire way there, laughing about old times and catching up on their old friends. The conversation had been so light-hearted that Jimmy had never had the opportunity to bring up Paula. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t even thought of her for the last fifty miles. He turned the ignition off and welcomed the silence.
Jimmy and Julie got out of the truck and stretched. Bill nearly scrambled out of his car and headed for the bathroom. Cindy joined Jimmy and Julie at the Mack and gave them both a good looking over.
“You gotta go?” Cindy asked Julie, cocking her head in the direction of the bathrooms.
“Yeah,” replied Julie.
Jimmy watched them walk up to the brick building as the sun was setting behind the birch trees beyond the highway. He could tell by the way they were talking that Cindy was saying everything that Jimmy had intended to. He was sure of it. He was also just as sure that Julie would hear only what she wanted to hear. She had a strong will, and she just might take Cindy’s advice as a challenge. Either way, Jimmy had been happy for the diversion. He needed a second to himself. He wondered how this looked to the others but reasoned that Julie was someone to take his mind off the day’s events. What could be wrong with that?
Ken joined him at the truck, Patty following close behind. Most everyone was heading inside to use the facilities.
“Listen, Jimmy,” said Ken. “I owe you an apology. I don’t know what came over me. It’s been a tough day, ya know? I acted like a total jerk back there, and I’m sorry for it. Damn sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I just hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
“Aw, don’t worry about it,” said Jimmy, taking Ken’s hand and giving it a quick pump. He was relieved that Ken had finally made the peace.
With Patty leading the way, the last of the group made their way up to the building. Jimmy wasn’t about to leave the truck, not after what’d happened earlier. After everyone was inside, he stepped behind the truck and relieved himself.
That was when he first heard the motorcycles. They were far away, a mile or two, but they were loud and definitely headed their way.
Jimmy looked back at the line of vehicles behind the truck. He was anxious to get moving again and felt that as long as they continued to do so, they were reasonably safe. He was unaware of the turn of events to the south. Had any of them known, they wouldn’t have let their guard down.
That would prove to be very costly.
Five
The John Warner Defense Authorization Act of 2007 was signed into law by President George W. Bush on October 19, 2006. This law stripped the governors’ control of their National Guard units and gave the President sweeping powers over those units in times of public emergency.
Rolling thunder. That’s what bikers called it, and Jimmy understood why. The sound was deafening, growing louder with each passing second. The approaching motorcycles had caught his ear minutes ago, and the roar was threatening to fall upon them like an avalanche. Bill, Cindy, and Julie had rejoined him back at the truck. Jimmy’s mind raced as he imagined a thousand different scenarios, none of which was good.
“There’s no power in there,” said Julie. “There doesn’t seem to be power anywhere.”
“That was creepy,” said Cindy, raising her voice as the motorcycles grew nearer. “Wow! Is that ever loud! Don’t those guys believe in mufflers?”
“Julie, take Cindy over that hill and stay down!” Jimmy shouted, pointing to a nearby mound that rose just high enough to keep them out of view of the parking lot.
“Why?” asked Julie. “Because you hear a few motorcycles? Jimmy, quit acting so paranoid.”
“Just do it! Please, there isn’t much time!” Jimmy screamed, feeling that a little paranoia might not be such a bad thing. Not now, anyhow.
They were seconds away, and Jimmy could hear the throttles cutting back as the group slowed to enter the rest stop. The rapping of their exhaust pipes echoing their harbinger’s call. A minivan that had been in the parking area roared past, followed by a pickup truck, leaving their group alone.
“Fine,” hollered Julie. “Come on, Cindy. Follow me.”
Relieved, Jimmy watched them jog toward the hill and disappear from sight.
“Maybe I should go with them,” Bill shouted to Jimmy, his face pale in the twilight.
“Don’t worry; it’s probably nothing,” Jimmy shouted back. “Just be cool, and everything should be fine.”
“Be cool. Right, I can be cool.”
The first of the motorcycles rumbled their way into the parking area. There were twenty-some in all, the leather clad bikers riding two abreast with absolute precision. Following them was a new looking school bus. Whatever district it hailed from had been crudely spray painted over. They parked about fifty yards away, one by one, revving their engines vigorously before shutting them off.
The door to the bus opened and a barrel-chested man emerged carrying a battered cooler. He had huge, tattooed arms and a long greasy beard. Just like their motorcycles, the men were loud. They got off of their bikes, hooting and hollering and eagerly took beers from the cooler. They talked among themselves and laughed boisterously. Women emerged from the bus; some were young and looked to be in their mid-teens. They looked as hard-boiled as their men, and they walked with an air of confidence, many holding six packs and burning cigarettes.
And here came Ken and Patty’s group from the bathrooms. Ken led the way, looking straight ahead and holding Patty’s hand. The others followed, ushering children past the motley crew, skirting them as much as possible. Crude comments were made followed by howling laughter. The families continued on their way, pretending not to hear.
Jimmy felt his heart in his throat, and he’d broken out in a cold sweat. A slight breeze rattled the leaves in the trees overhead, and the sound of a million crickets filled the air. The bikers had grown silent, watching in amusement as the group rushed to their cars. To Jimmy they looked like lions stalking their prey. Then, as if reading his mind, a tall biker pointed directly at Jimmy and Bill. There was some low conversation followed by the nodding of heads. All eyes were now on them. Jimmy’s mouth felt as dry as sand.
“Oh, shit,” said Bill.
“Get in the truck,” Jimmy said from the side of his mouth. “And get your gun out, nice and easy, Bill. Okay?”
“What about Julie and Cindy?”
“We’re not leaving them. Just get in the truck. Trust me, okay?”
A motorcycle engine roared to life, followed by another. The pair raced toward the Mack. One stopped directly in front of the truck, the other behind. Jimmy’s hand shook as he fired up the engine. Jimmy watched a tall biker with wild hair dismount his bike; he looked up at Jimmy and Bill and smiled. He was older than Jimmy had guessed. His dark hair was streaked with gray, and deep lines were etched at the corners of his red-rimmed eyes. A quick check in Bill’s door-mounted mirror revealed a younger biker who was short and stocky and wore a red bandana on his head. He was making his way alongside the truck, his face covered in a week’s growth of razor stubble. It was a replay of what had happened earlier, except this time there was no farmer there to save them. They were also in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but miles of tamarack swamp and birch trees.
“Hey,” said the tall biker, leering up to Jimmy. “Leavin’ so soon? Why? The party’s just getting start
ed. Why don’t you shut down your rig and join us?”
“No, thanks,” said Jimmy, “we’ve got to get moving.”
“Maybe I wasn’t asking?” growled the tall man, pulling open Jimmy’s door with considerable force. “Shut the damn thing off! Now! What you got in the back, asshole? Anything I might be interested in?”
“Get out!” ordered the short biker from the other side of the truck.
Jimmy turned the key and killed the engine. He stole a glance at Bill and could see that he hadn’t pulled his gun. Jimmy was happy he hadn’t because the short biker had pulled one of his own. He held it trained on Bill. From the look on his face, Jimmy thought he wouldn’t hesitate to use it. Bill was slowly climbing down, and Jimmy did the same.
“We don’t want any trouble, do we, Jimmy?” asked Bill.
“Shut your goddam mouth!” ordered the biker with the gun.
“Okay,” said Bill. “I’ll be quiet. I can do that.”
The short biker scowled. He held the gun up to Bill’s nose and gave him a hard look. A car drove by, followed by another. Jimmy recognized the vehicles as those belonging to his caravan. It was obvious that the bikers’ interest lay in the truck and whatever cargo Jimmy had on board. Jimmy was thankful that the others were leaving. Inside many of the cars were women and children. More cars rolled past, and Jimmy could see that was exactly what the bikers wanted. Some were now shouting at the stragglers, even kicking at the fenders and doors to get the drivers moving. The last vehicle to leave was Ken and Patty in their new Chevy Tahoe which now sported nasty dents in the doors and rear quarter panel. Ken slowed the truck as it approached the Mack. “Let them get in with us,” Ken pleaded to the tall man. “Take the truck. Just let them go!”
“And who’s going to drive the damn truck?” taunted the tall biker. “Get the hell outta here!”
Desperate Times Page 6