by Ellis, Tara
Ethan studied the terrain as the two adults began to debate about where to put the tents. Danny wanted to keep them in the shade, while Sam opted to have them away from the fire.
It was Ethan’s second time through the area in as many days and he’d be happy when he could leave it behind for good. They were surround by low, rolling hills dotted with farmland. To the south, two cement silos stood out on the horizon as the tallest structures for miles in any direction. To the east, a line of mountains rose, their tops green with trees and the promise of shade and cooler temperatures. Down in the flats, although cooler the past couple of days, it still had to be in the eighties, which was likely the main reason hardly anyone else was out wandering about.
There were other people, just not that many. Ethan experienced a mixture of dread and excitement each time another figure stumbled into view. It could either be his dad, or another Decker waiting to take everything from them.
A hand on his shoulder made him jump and Ethan turned to find Sam staring at him. “Let’s get camp set up. And you don’t need to worry so much. Decker is gone and we aren’t going to leave you. I promise.”
Ethan would have never guessed how much of an impact those words would have on him, and he fought against a sudden flood of tears. Although he still desperately wanted his dad, the deep void he’d been experiencing for five days slammed shut with a physical equivalent of a punch to the stomach. He took a shuddering breath and managed a brief nod before turning away to hide his raw emotions.
A cold nose touched his hand and Ethan knelt down to greet his other new friend, Grace. The golden retriever seemed to know when he needed the extra nudge, literally, and he smiled at the dog. She licked his cheeks and it was then that Ethan realized he’d been crying. “It’s okay,” he whispered to Grace, kissing her on the top of her head. “It’s okay now.”
Chapter 24
RUSSELL
Route 89, near Idaho/Wyoming border
Russell maneuvered the mountain bike with a vigor he hadn’t felt in some time. Though he somewhat regretted leaving the house behind, he moved forward with a sense of purpose. Things were lining up so perfectly that he was in awe of how he was orchestrating it all.
He steered around the burned-out shells of two wrecked cars, barely paying any notice to the remains lying over the steering wheel in the vehicle nearest him. Even on a less-used highway that connected a string of towns with populations of under five hundred, death and destruction were always present.
A fire burned in the distance to the west, likely having spread from a structure and into the woods. He’d passed a man and woman earlier in the day, on foot, who had told him to be careful of the fires raging to the north in and around Soda Springs, Idaho. It was fire season to begin with, so everything was ripe for the burning.
Russell wasn’t concerned. He was going to steer to the east of Idaho, and follow Highway 89 all the way north through Wyoming and straight into the Lewis and Clark National Park, where Mercy waited.
He grinned, thinking about his conversation with the young couple and how at ease they’d been with him. Russell looked down at his outfit, borrowed from the rich, globe-trotting homeowner. He wore loose-fitting athletic pants and a gray T-shirt with the words Live, Love, Laugh. When combined with his pleasant good looks, it made him quite approachable. He’d even given them some water. He wasn’t a monster, after all.
“No, not a monster,” Russell said to the empty road and trees that flew past. Something else. Something…natural. While he originally thought of the flashpoint as only the beginning of his own rebirth, he’d come to understand that it was much more than that. There was a comprehensive act of natural selection occurring; a purging, so to speak. The Earth had been building up to it for some time, and frankly, Russell was surprised the human species had continued for as long as it had. He didn’t see himself as a prophet. Nothing that divine. Rather, he was an extension of the energy of the universe, a tool of nature. Only those worthy of surviving would be left when it was over. He had the ability to see that and the much, much larger picture of where they were headed.
Russell shifted his backpack and considered stopping for a short break. His shoulders were getting sore and it was close to dinner time. He still had a couple of hours before it got dark, although it didn’t matter because he wasn’t in any real rush. He wasn’t on a schedule.
Coming to a stop in the gravel along the side of the road, Russell lowered his sunglasses and gazed out at the surrounding landscape. It was a winding section of road that worked its way through a series of low hills that he imagined led to more farmland. There wasn’t anyone to be seen, which was how he preferred it.
Slipping the large trekking pack from his back, Russell realized how heavy it had become. He’d switched out the smaller backpack for it, after finding the larger bag in the garage of the lake house. Apparently, the owner’s travels also included the kind that took them on vast hiking excursions. A duffle bag was attached to the back of his bike with a bungee cord, which was where he’d stuffed his small tent and a couple of other camping items. After five days on the road, he’d come up with a rather efficient way to travel and camp. Of course, he was a simple man to begin with and didn’t like to complicate things. He only cared about meeting his basic needs.
Before Russell had a chance to take anything out, he heard an unusual noise. Freezing with his hand on the zipper of the bag, he tilted his head. Yes…there it was again. The whinny of a horse.
Russell took out some binoculars and then stepped away from the pack, letting it fall to the ground. In spite of the physical effort it took to travel by bike, he hadn’t changed his mind about riding a horse. He had no desire to find one, but he was curious as to who was with the horses. He realized as he continued to listen that there was definitely more than one.
It was coming from farther up the road. Russell stepped off the highway and into the trees, quickly traversing the rugged terrain and cresting a small hill. He leaned against an outcropping of large rocks and raised the binoculars. Located about a hundred feet away was a group of eight horses. They’d had their saddles removed already and were tied to some trees by a small stream.
Near them, several men dressed in military garb were silently going about setting up a camp. One of them must have said something amusing, because another man laughed and then they continued erecting a canvas tent.
Russell could have felt threatened, and maybe an ordinary man would have. Instead he was intrigued. It was the first sign of any organized government activity. That they were riding horses instead of Humvees spoke volumes on its own, but he wanted…needed to know more.
Slipping away from the vantage point, Russell calmly returned to his gear and took out the deputy’s shirt he’d packed away. He’d have to make do with his blue jeans to accompany it, since Mr. Rogers’ pants hadn’t been his size. He imagined the soldiers would respond better to a man in uniform.
After changing, he got back on the bike without eating and peddled up the road, whistling so that his arrival was announced in advance. No sense in testing the universe with a surprise encounter with men armed with automatic rifles.
As Russell rounded the curve, he acted shocked when he saw the group of soldiers off to the side of the road. Two of them had come out onto the highway with their rifles to intercept him. “Hello!” Russell called out, sounding relieved. “You can’t imagine how happy I am to see you.”
The two soldiers exchanged a look and kept their ARs slung across their chests, relaxed but at the ready. “Sorry to disappoint you, we’re not here to render aid,” the larger of the two men said. “We’re on our way to an assignment at the reservoir.”
Russell glanced behind them at what he hadn’t been able to see from his lookout in the woods. They had two carts that the horses were pulling, likely full of whatever supplies they were transporting to the lake. They were in for a surprise when they got there, and it was all he could do not to laugh.
&nbs
p; Instead, he gave a small nod of understanding and lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “I get it. Not to worry, I don’t need anything. I’m doing better than most of the people I’ve seen south of here, though, so you might want to keep your heads on a swivel.”
Another man walked out to join the conversation, and based on how the first two reacted, Russell assumed he was in command. “You local law enforcement? Where are you from?”
Russell stood straddling his bike, his backpack covering up part of his badge. Shifting his weight, he pulled the shoulder strap aside and smiled confidently. “Yes, sir. Well, not local so much to here, more like south of here in Rich County. Near Randolph, to be more exact. Deputy Rogers.” He held out a hand.
The commander hesitated for only a moment, and then closed the space between them. As he took Russell’s hand in a firm grip, the other two soldiers stood down, relaxing their stance and letting the ARs hang from their straps. “Sergeant Klinger, US Army Reserves. I don’t mean to be rude, Deputy, but I’ll have to ask that you keep moving.”
His smile widening as they shook hands, Russell leaned back and gave a curt shake of his head. “No offense. I get it. I do wonder if you could answer a couple of questions for me first?”
“It was a gamma-ray burst,” Sergeant Klinger said without preamble. “Over a third of the world’s population wiped out, and an EMP destroyed almost all of our electronics.”
Russell frowned and did his best to look morose. “I’d heard that it was a gamma-ray, but I had no idea the destruction was so widespread.”
“Gamma radiation is to blame for a lot of it,” the sergeant explained. “You’re likely experiencing a mild case of exposure. Headache? Nausea?”
Russell nodded.
“It affects everyone differently and from here west, it’s pretty mild for most people except the very young, old, or those with previous illnesses.” Sergeant Klinger gestured to Russell’s bike. “Decent mode of transportation, but have you considered a horse?”
Russell smiled again. “I’ve never had much luck with them, and I don’t mind the exercise. Can you tell me what it is you’re doing at the reservoir?” he asked, getting to what he really wanted to know. “You’re the first sign of any organized military I’ve seen and I’d like to know what the state of the government is. My own county was basically destroyed by fire and what wasn’t burned got looted. The lawlessness was so bad that I decided to travel north, to my hometown in Montana.”
Sergeant Klinger shook his head. “There is no civilian government. Martial law has been declared and General Montgomery is calling the shots out of Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado. We’re establishing camp—I mean, FEMA shelters in the most populated locations, though our ranks are still pretty loose. After a week, we’ve just gotten to where we’ve established communication at the state and county level, and have begun reporting back to Cheyenne. The reservoir is a vital resource for supplying water to the shelters in Idaho and Utah.” The sergeant pointed at the carts. “We’re the first in our state to get an official assignment, but we’re slowly getting there. As you already pointed out, we first have to establish some sort of control.”
“Give it another week without aid, and there won’t be nearly as many left to control,” Russell stated, his voice a little more even keeled than he’d intended.
Sergeant Klinger cocked his head and squinted at Russell. “Our goal is to find a way to do both,” he said.
“That’s very ambitious.” Russell knew he’d overstayed his welcome, but he also knew there was a purpose to meeting these men. The government was rounding up survivors into camps. How very convenient. “Anything I need to know in regard to the martial law? New rules I should be following?”
Sergeant Klinger took a couple of measured steps to the side, allowing room for Russell to pass. “Keep to yourself and you shouldn’t have any issues. We’ll be requisitioning needed supplies and structures to ensure the people’s survival.”
It was clearly a scripted response, and very telling. They weren’t going to stop at the camps, or shelters, as they were calling them. It seemed the whole country, or what was left of it, was being treated as a militarized zone. It made sense. In order to save as many people as possible, the military would have to round them up and protect them from destroying each other and what was left. Russell smiled. He could work with that.
Instead of peddling away, he leaned forward and did his best imitation of a small-town cop rubbing elbows with another lawman. “Let me tell you about my hometown.”
Chapter 25
TOM
North of Virginia, Idaho
“I won’t stop until I find my son.” Tom whispered the words in the gathering darkness, like an oath or mantra. One he’d used to keep himself going for the past two days. He was still groggy at times and although he’d intended to ride through the previous night nonstop so he’d arrive in Virginia by that afternoon, his body had other plans. He’d fallen asleep in the saddle. Or passed out, it didn’t really matter which.
He’d been lucky. The sun on his face woke him up that morning and Tom found himself lying slumped on the horse’s neck. They had stopped at a creek near the freeway, not far from where he last remembered riding. Fortunately, no one had come by and decided to help themselves to his things while he’d been out, and he’d pushed on.
Tom looked out at the darkening expanse of fields and considered his options. He was now only a few miles north of the small town where he hoped to find Ethan. After taking a wide path around Pocatello, he’d been unable to pick up their trail on the other side. No matter how hard he searched the hardpacked earth to either side of the freeway, or how many people he questioned, he didn’t come up with any positive results. There were simply too many survivors wandering the road near the city, and more people were traveling by horse.
His head was clearer than it had been in days, and he knew that his best chance of locating Ethan was in Virginia, but it wasn’t going to happen in the dark. There was a chance he could pass right by them and not even realize it.
Slowing his horse, Tom took a couple of deep breaths to center himself. That’s when he noticed how cold it was getting. In actuality, it was probably still in the low fifties, but in comparison to the heat he’d been suffering through it was a sharp contrast. Shivering, he dismounted and wished he had his sweatshirt. He’d been wearing the same outfit now for a week, and he both smelled and looked like it.
Rubbing a hand across his stubbly chin, he led the horses to the only tree near them. The same network of streams and irrigation canals they’d been by all day were close by and he’d let the animals have their fill once he’d gotten something to eat. He hadn’t had any food since that morning and he paused, confused.
Had he eaten?
Shaking his head to clear the haze that threatened to settle in again, he admitted to himself that he wasn’t okay. He understood his situation and that he was still suffering from a concussion, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it at the moment.
The cut over his eye was festering, and though he’d washed the blood from his face, it was still swollen and covered in bruises. At least his shoulder was healing well. Tom rotated it, stretching the muscles and testing the level of pain the movement caused. Grunting in satisfaction, he remembered again that he still needed to eat. That was the main symptom of the concussion. He was constantly getting distracted and forgetting what he was doing, or finding himself simply staring out into space, unsure of where or who he was for a fleeting moment.
“Food,” Tom said to Lilly, who nickered at him softly in response. She was a good horse. Her full name was Lilly Of The Valley, he assumed because she was a solid white. The other brown mare wasn’t quite as personable, but they were both strong and he’d be forever grateful to Ed and Marnie.
The horses reminded Tom of home and he closed his eyes for a moment, wishing the random thought would go away. He knew how worried his mom was and how hard it must be for her, a
ll alone on the ranch. He distracted himself from thinking about his friends and family by lifting down his bag and rummaging in it for something he didn’t have to cook.
He’d need to find some more food soon. Ed had shoved some non-perishables into his backpack, but the crackers and jerky were almost gone. Opting for a Pop-Tart and small bag of Doritos, Tom absently shoved chips into his mouth while he studied the ground. It was dark enough that it was hard to see, though it looked as good a place as any to spread out his sleeping bag. He briefly debated setting up the tent Ed gave him, finding the task felt overwhelming even though he was cold.
“Come on,” he said to Lilly as he picked up her lead rope. Popping half of the Pop-Tart into his mouth, he walked out into the field in search of the water that was out there somewhere. He already regretted not stopping sooner, when it was still light out. Why wasn’t he being smarter about things?
Tom was injured, and was pushing himself too hard. Physically, mentally, he was breaking down, yet it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except Ethan.
“I won’t stop until I find my son,” he said slowly and with a tight control of his emotions. He had to stay focused.
A flicker of orange light in the distance made him stop. He stood staring at it for a full minute before deciding that it was, in fact, a fire. A campfire.
His adrenaline spiking, Tom was impatient with the horses and finally tied them up near the water, rather than going back to where he’d left his things. He’d get them later.
The odds of the people sitting around the fire being Ethan and his abductors were incredibly small, but Tom had to know. He’d simply sneak up and confirm it wasn’t Ethan, before going back and getting some much-needed sleep. He’d get to Virginia in the morning and start asking around. It was a tiny hole in the wall, and the three of them with their horses would stand out.