Near Total Eclipse: Solar Plexus 2 (A Dystopian EMP Post-Apocalyptic Fiction Novel)

by Victor Zugg

  Chet pointed to the right. “Not many people at the Food Lion.”

  “Or the Walgreens up there on the left,” Charlie said.

  “They’re empty,” Sam said. “The people have moved on.”

  The crowds became larger and more animated as the Hummer proceeded. Some people carried pistols and rifles, but there was no shooting. Sam reached down and checked the magazine on his Sig and on Chet’s rifle.

  “Cut through the grass before you get to Hensley,” Sam said. “And stop at the top of the hill. We don’t want to just drive into the police department parking lot without knowing what’s happening.”

  Chet nodded.

  “This is not looking good,” Lance said again.

  Sam glanced back at Charlie. “You okay?”

  Charlie nodded. “I wasn’t expecting a trip for PVC to turn into this.”

  Sam looked back around when Chet turned the wheel to the right and the Hummer left the road. The engine dropped to a lower pitch as Chet steered the truck up the incline. He brought the Hummer to a stop at the top of the hill and cut the engine.

  Everyone hopped out of the Hummer, took a few steps toward the parking lot, and gaped at the scene below.

  A mass of people shoved and jockeyed for position around the two cargo trailers. More people arrived by the second. A steady stream entered and exited the red brick city government building which housed the police department. Most of the people exiting the building carried boxes and bags of supplies. Fights erupted all over. People wrestled on the ground. Five officers, with their pistols drawn, stood near the rear of the trailers ordering people to back off. Men, women, and even children ranted and raved, waved their fists in the air, and pressed forward. For every step forward, the officers stepped back closer to the trailers. Some people had weapons.

  “Anyone see Hank, Bill, and the pickup?” Lance asked.

  Sam gazed slowly from one end of the parking lot to the other. “I don’t see the pickup.”

  “Is that Bill down there next to the trailer?” Chet asked, as he pointed.

  Sam focused on the trailer. A man sat leaning against the wheels as the officers continued to argue with people at the rear of the trailer. Sam saw red on the man’s face. “Was he wearing a blue T-shirt this morning?”

  “He was,” Lance said.

  “Then that’s Bill, and he looks injured,” Sam said. “I don’t see Hank. I also don’t see Martinez.”

  “Maybe Martinez is in the city building,” Chet said.

  “Probably.”

  “The place is in chaos,” Charlie said.

  “Five officers won’t be able to hold those people back much longer,” Lance said. “We need to help Bill and find Hank.”

  “We will,” Sam said. He scanned the area around the Hummer. There were a few people about, but nearly everyone was focused on the food riots in the parking lot down below and were headed in that direction. No one paid much attention to Sam’s group and the Hummer. But just in case, Sam walked back to the Hummer and removed the key from the ignition. Most Humvees didn’t have keys, just a run/start lever that activated the glow plug and then started the diesel engine. But this particular Humvee was previously the property of the air force, and they apparently saw fit to install a keyed ignition in place of the lever. The air force obviously worried more about someone jacking the vehicle. “Chet and I will go down and get Bill,” Sam said. He looked from Lance to Charlie. “I’d like for you two to stay here and protect the Hummer. Lance, use your pistol if needed.”

  “I think I should go,” Lance said.

  “I appreciate that, but Charlie doesn’t have a firearm,” Sam said. “Plus, Chet and I can move faster with just the two of us to worry about.”

  Lance nodded.

  Sam and Chet retrieved their rifles and started toward the ruckus.

  The people seemed to pay little attention as Sam and Chet waded through the crowd and approached Bill.

  “His eyes are open,” Sam said, “but he doesn’t seem to know what’s happening.” Sam knelt down beside him while Chet remained standing, scanning the crowd.

  The blood on Bill’s face seemed to emanate from a wound just above his right ear.

  Sam put his hand on Bill’s shoulder and shook him gently. “How you doing there?”

  After a few seconds, Bill focused on Sam’s face. “I’ve been better.”

  “What happened?”

  “There was a crowd here when we arrived with the two trucks this morning,” Bill said. “We were able to load the first truck without incident. But as we loaded, the crowd gotbigger, meaner, and more vocal. When the first truck pulled out, and we started loading the second, the crowd went wild. I took a smack to the head and here I am. I think I heard a gunshot or two.”

  “What about Hank?” Sam asked.

  “I don’t know. When I got hit, all I saw was stars. I may have blacked out for a while.”

  Sam stood up and looked around. People screamed and fists shook in the air as the crowd edged closer to the five officers. “Any sight of Hank?” Sam asked Chet.

  “Nope,” Chet said. “Just a lot of pissed off people not sure of where their next meal will come from.”

  Sam nodded and knelt back down to Bill. “Where’s the truck?”

  Bill paused for a moment, apparently trying to clear his mind. “Hank was behind the wheel. I think he was trying to get the truck out of harm’s way, but he couldn’t get the door closed. I think some guys dragged him out of the cab. I remember the truck driving off. That’s about it.”

  “Was Martinez here when all this happened?”

  “Yeah, pretty sure he was,” Bill said.

  Sam stood up and leaned toward Chet. He had to raise his voice over the roar of the crowd. “Let’s get Bill back to the Hummer.”

  They both reached down, grabbed an arm, and lifted Bill to his feet.

  “Are you okay to move?” Sam asked Bill.

  “I’m a little dizzy, massive headache, but I can manage.”

  Sam and Chet, one hand on Bill and one hand on their rifles, walked Bill through the crowd to the grassy knoll, and up toward the Hummer. When they were about half way up the hill Lance and Charlie came down to help. At the Hummer, they sat Bill on the shady side.

  “There’s a med kit in the back,” Sam told Charlie.

  Charlie left and then returned with the kit and a bottle of water.

  Sam opened the bottle and let some water drizzle over Bill’s head wound. Sam then dabbed the area with gauze. He then tore open an alcohol patch. “This is going to sting.”

  Sam dabbed the wound with the alcohol.

  Bill winced, but didn’t say anything.

  “I don’t think it’s that bad,” Sam said. He took a clean gauze from the kit and held it against Bill’s head. “Here, hold on to this. Press it tight.”

  Bill reached up and held the gauze.

  Sam handed him the half full water bottle. “Take some sips.” Sam then stood up to address Lance and Charlie. “The truck and the food they were loading are gone. Taken. Not sure where Hank is, or Martinez for that matter. Chet and I are going to check out the government building. Keep an eye on Bill. We should be back shortly.”

  Charlie nodded.

  Sam glanced at Lance and raised his chin.

  “We’ll be fine here,” Lance said, as he put his hand on the pistol holstered on his hip.

  Sam and Chet marched off toward the government building. They weaved back through the crowd, sidestepping several altercations with men wrestling on the ground over this or that food item.

  “I don’t think this is how Martinez intended to distribute the food,” Chet said.

  “I’m sure of it,” Sam said.

  They had to shove their way through the building’s main center entrance, against a stream of people exiting with armloads of food items. Chet led the way as he plastered himself against the right wall.

  Sam glanced in the first office on the right and saw a gro
up of people standing in one corner. He saw two police officers in uniform. Sam grabbed Chet by the shoulder and then motioned for him to follow Sam into the office. As they got closer, Sam could see between the people standing in a group and caught a glimpse of Hank. He was kneeling next to a man reclined on a sofa. Sam wedged his way through and then abruptly stopped. Sam glanced back at Chet. “It’s Martinez.”

  Martinez was unconscious. His chest and the cushion under his back were soaked with blood.

  Sam put his hand on Hank’s shoulder. “What happened?”

  Hank glanced up at Sam and then stood. “Lost the truck, and the food we were loading, to the crowd. Nothing we could do. The rifles, too. Martinez tried to control the mob. Bill and I were just muscled to the side from all the pushing and shoving. I heard a shot and saw Martinez collapse to the pavement. I helped two of his officers get him in here. But there wasn’t much we could do. He died a couple of minutes ago.”

  “How did Bill get hurt?” Chet asked.

  “I don’t know, he was okay when I left to help,” Hank said. “Is he okay?”

  “Yeah.” Sam looked around the room. “Where’s Juan?”

  “He went for a doctor, but hasn’t returned yet.”

  At that moment Juan burst through the doorway and pushed his way through the group standing around Martinez’s body. Juan fell to his father’s side and then looked back toward the group. His eyes wet with tears.

  A middle-aged man wearing a white coat pushed his way through the people and knelt beside Martinez. He pulled a stethoscope from his coat pocket, positioned it to his ears, and then placed the end on Martinez’s neck. A few second later he removed the stethoscope from his ears and shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “There’s nothing I can do.”

  Juan wept as he held his father’s hand.

  CHAPTER 9

  Sam, Chet, and Hank trudged up the grassy hill toward the Hummer. Charlie and Lance came forward to meet them. Bill stepped out of the truck, held onto the open door, and peered expectantly. He wore a white bandage wrapped around his head.

  “Well?” Lance asked.

  “Martinez is dead,” Sam said.

  Lance and Charlie dropped their chins and stared at the ground. Bill shook his head.

  Sam rubbed his face full-length with his free hand and closed his eyes. He let out a slow exhale and blinked his eyes open. He bent over and leaned his rifle against the Hummer, and looked back at the crowd below, still in chaos. The five officers were gone, and the trailers were empty. The stream of people from the government building had dwindled to a trickle.

  Chet glanced at the crowd. “No police chief, no food, and twenty-eight thousand people on a rampage.”

  “And we lost the truck, the food, and our rifles,” Bill said.

  “I had such high hopes,” Sam said.

  “High hopes for what?” Charlie asked.

  “For this being a productive day.”

  “Since we’re here, we might as well try for the PVC pipe,” Chet said.

  “The depot is only a mile farther up the road,” Lance said. “Why do you need PVC pipe?”

  “Water filters,” Charlie said. “You run stream water through layers of pebbles, sand, charcoal, and cloth or screen. With large diameter PVC and multiple filters we’ll be able to filter more water.”

  “Another couple of items we could use,” Chet said, “is some chicken wire fencing and some wood.”

  Sam glanced at Chet and raised an eyebrow.

  “When we start the garden next spring, we’ll need to protect it from varmints—especially rabbits and deer. Otherwise, we’ll do all the work and they’ll eat all the food.”

  Sam looked at Bill. “Feel up to it?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Bill said. “And ready to be anywhere except here.”

  Sam handed Chet the keys and everyone piled in the Hummer.

  Lance motioned for Chet to turn right at the road, and then a right onto Route 129. The depot came into view a short distance later. Chet cut across the median, proceeded through a shallow gully, and across the grass to the parking lot.

  The parking lot was mostly empty. Debris, plastic bags, and cardboard littered the area, along with a few people milling about and a few abandoned vehicles, but nothing like the melee they had just left.

  “Most things of value are probably gone,” Sam said. “But hopefully no one saw fit to take all the PVC.”

  “Or the chicken wire,” Chet said, as he pulled farther into the parking lot toward the front doors.

  “I’ll be damned,” Hank said from the back seat.

  Sam and Chet turned to Hank and then in the direction he was looking out the window.

  “What?” Lance asked.

  “The pickup,” Sam said. “Your pickup.” Sam saw the Ford pickup parked at the north end of the lot in front of the garden center entrance. Three men, with rifles, leaned against the fenders. The three men watched the Hummer as Chet pulled to a stop.

  “It’s not alone,” Chet said.

  “Those are the guys who pulled me from the cab,” Hank said. “I think that guy on the right shot Martinez…with my rifle.”

  “They won’t know who we are,” Sam said. “That all happened before we arrived in the Hummer.”

  “They must be waiting for someone inside,” Hank said.

  “What do you plan to do?” Charlie asked.

  “Return the property to its rightful owners,” Chet said.

  Sam nodded. “We have two rifles and three pistols between us.”

  “I say we leave the rifles with Hank and Bill and they stay here with Lance and Charlie while we go in the main entrance,” Chet said.

  “Check out the people inside and then come out the garden entrance,” Sam said.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Chet said, as he handed his rifle back to Hank.

  Sam handed his rifle to Bill. “Are you going to be okay with this? Still dizzy?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Bill said. “I’m in the mood for a little payback.”

  “Give us a couple of minutes to get inside,” Sam said. “And then throw some rounds in their direction. Aim for the shooter. Spread out so the Hummer doesn’t end up wounded.”

  “You want Hank and Bill to shoot first?” Charlie asked. “Those guys haven’t shot at us yet.”

  “They’ve already demonstrated their inclination, intent, and temperament,” Chet said. “These days that’s all the provocation we need.”

  “A couple of minutes,” Sam said, as he glanced back at Hank.

  Hank nodded.

  Sam and Chet opened their doors, stepped out, and walked across the parking lot without looking at the men standing next to the pickup. Sam and Chet entered through the wide open main entrance doors and then went to the right. Sam pulled his pistol from its holster. Chet did the same.

  Light from the front doors, and a few skylights, illuminated the front part of the store. Darkness enveloped most of the back two-thirds of the interior.

  Almost immediately Sam stumbled over a man’s outstretched legs. Reclined against the interior wall, just inside the entrance, the man remained asleep despite the impact from Sam’s boot. An empty wine bottle sat on the floor next to him. Sam paused for a moment to ensure the man was breathing and then continued.

  As Sam moved from aisle to aisle, he noticed that much of the merchandise was intact. There wouldn’t be a lot of use for lighting, plumbing, and electrical for the next couple of years, at least.

  Sam heard the wheel rattle of a flatbed cart farther ahead, maybe four or five aisles down. Sam also heard two men talking, but couldn’t make out their words.

  Sam held up two fingers for Chet to see, pointed ahead, and then motioned for Chet to follow. Sam turned left down the next aisle and stepped quickly, on the balls of his feet. Chet followed close behind. Sam stopped at the end cap to listen. Based on the direction of the voices and the noise from the cart, Sam was sure he and Chet were behind the men, who were closer to th
e front of the store. Sam peered around the edge of the shelving and saw nothing in the dim light. He moved quickly from end cap to end cap, pausing to peer down each aisle. At the fourth aisle he saw the two men. They were almost to the end of the aisle but were stopped, apparently to peruse some item of merchandise.

  At that moment, Sam heard gunfire from outside, multiple rounds. And then he heard more firing, presumably the return fire.

  The two men jerked their heads toward the front of the store and went to draw their semi-automatic pistols. One man wore a holster on his hip. The other had the weapon stuffed in his waist band, at the small of his back.

  As they took a step in the direction of the garden center, Sam yelled out to stop. He leveled his pistol at the two men.

  Chet did the same and then started moving forward, keeping his weapon aimed at the two men only forty feet away.

  The two men spun around, started to raise their weapons, but then lowered them. They glanced at each other.

  The man without the holster—overweight, khaki shorts, an untucked polo shirt, and sandals—placed his gun on the cart’s stack of fence posts. He raised his hands and motioned for the other man to do the same. “We’re just getting some supplies, trying to survive like everybody else.”

  The other man, wearing jeans, T-shirt, and boots, hesitated. But then he placed his gun on the fence posts as Sam and Chet rushed forward, pistols in the tactical ready position.

  “Backup,” Sam said, as he motioned with the barrel of his pistol. “And on your knees.”

  The two men did as directed.

  Chet stood over the two men with his pistol pointed at their heads as Sam holstered his gun, produced a couple of zip-ties, and tied their hands behind their backs.

  “Where’d you get the pickup?” Sam asked.

  The two men looked at each other an extra beat.

  Sam pulled the cart closer to the men, zip-tied them and the cart together, and scooped up the two extra pistols. He then motioned for Chet to follow as he took off toward the garden center.

  They slid to a stop at the exit door. Sam peeked outside.

  One man, the one Hank said shot Martinez, lay prone on the asphalt next to the pickup. The two other men crouched behind the pickup, occasionally popping up to fire at Hank, Bill, and Lance, who were spread out behind two abandoned cars.