After the Day- Red Tide

by Matthew Gilman

  He lowered his rifle and exhaled in frustration. He placed the rifle back on his shoulder and continued walking. He felt a slight tremble in the ground. He thought for a minute that it was his imagination. He stopped and stood still. The ground was indeed shaking. In the distance he heard the sound of a diesel engine. It had been years since a truck had traveled on this road. Part of him was excited. But he couldn’t figure out why the ground was shaking. He ran into the tree line to wait.

  He felt the vibration more in the soil. He moved back a few more trees and waited again. The sound of diesel was in the air. He heard tires and tracks. A large truck slowly drove by, a red star on the driver’s side door. After that truck, there were several more trucks, then half a dozen tanks, also wearing the red star on them. The parade continued for half an hour. After the vehicles, rows of Chinese men and women marched down the road.

  He didn’t know if he should pinch himself or not. He stayed motionless and watched. He tried to keep track of how many vehicles and people there were. When the parade was finished he waited another twenty minutes before moving. He didn’t want to be spotted by stragglers that might have been left behind.

  He traveled back home using the trees as cover. The road would have been quicker, but it would have been more important to get home in one piece. He still had two hours before the sun would set so he took his time. He was happy he wasn’t able to shoot that deer. With his 30.06, the men marching would have heard the shot. They might have caught him.

  When he reached the house he watched from the tree line for a while. He walked around the property to make sure that there were no surprises. Then, he figured it was clear. He went to the door and cleared the house with his rifle. The main area was open and easy to see that it was empty and everything was where it was supposed to be.

  He locked the door and went to his ham radio. He had to switch out fuses and other parts to get it working again but, eventually, he did get it working. The windmill he installed on the house supplied the power for it and a few other appliances. He turned the radio on and set the bandwidth to 66.6 where most of the guys he contacted were normally. He stayed on the bandwidth for twenty minutes before someone responded.

  “Hey is this New York?” the voice asked.

  He recognized the voice.

  “Ohio?” he replied.

  “Yeah, it’s me. How are things going on your side of the hill?” Ohio replied.

  “You won’t believe this.” New York replied.

  He told Ohio about the convoy and the troops. He wanted to get the word out and they shared channels and times to contact other people with the news of the troop movement. Neither of them had contacts on the east coast. They spent the next two days trying to reach people and get the word out. The next day Ohio was able to reach Fort Custer.

  Chapter 8: Midwest United States

  The camouflaged Bronco roared down the street. Private Brown was taking full advantage of the lack of speed limits. Occasionally, they would have to stop and move fallen branches and other objects out of the way since the roads were no longer maintained by public workers. Taking the back roads to the military base, John and Brown arrived at the main gate in two hours. Surprisingly, John still had his old military ID. He didn’t know why he kept it but he took it out before they stopped at the gate and he held it up when the man in uniform walked out of the shack and approached them.

  “Major?” the guard said looking at the ID.

  “The ID says otherwise.” John said.

  “You’re the guy Chris told us about.” the guard said. He stood at attention and saluted John.

  “No need for that.” John insisted.

  “Yes, sir.” the guard said.

  The guard went to the gate and opened the fence to let the truck through. John quickly put together what had happened. In Chris’s planning he had bumped John up in rank to put in charge who he felt was a better fit. The oak leaves would be John’s ticket to being in charge and nobody would know any different.

  “I don’t take orders from stupid anymore.” the words Chris had said years ago echoed in John’s mind.

  The Bronco pulled up to one of the bunkhouses and Brown turned the motor off. A group of people came out of the bunkhouse, most in civilian clothes and others in military fatigues. Some saluted and others waved.

  “No need to salute, really.” John said waving for them to put their hands down.

  One of the men approached. He looked skinny and tired. Military haircut and complete uniform, John could tell he was the real deal.

  “Sir, I’m Corporal Dennis Allen.” he said putting his hand out.

  John took his hand and shook it. A firm grip, forearms flexed. It was an old custom that John had not come across in years.

  “Major John Adams.” John said.

  Dennis laughed. “Yeah right!” Dennis said.

  “Yeah, right.” John said in a serious tone.

  “Oh,” Dennis said. “Sorry, sir.”

  “Don’t worry, it happens all the time. Can I get a briefing on what’s going on?” John asked.

  “Right away, sir.” Dennis said walking to a different building. This one was only one story but had a large antenna attached to it.

  “You have working equipment?” John said.

  “Yes, it took some work to get things going but you would be surprised at what we have been able to do here. At one point we heard radio transmissions from the west coast. That was how we found out what was happening over there. Can you believe it? The Chinese had the nerve to invade us. Un-fucking believable! But, that’s not the top story as of last night. Last night we get this guy on the ham radio out of southern Ohio who says there is a Chinese army marching east toward New York City.”

  “Did they pass by here?” John asked.

  “No, on the west coast they haven’t gotten past the Rocky Mountains, as far as we can tell they haven’t made it through the city of L.A. or any of the other towns. In Seattle the retired and active members of some ranger companies have been decimating the Chinese and pushed them back to the sea. As far as we can tell they somehow had an army already here waiting.” Dennis said.

  “For five years?” John said. He tried to work his mind around it. “That’s incredible.”

  Dennis pulled a map out and the place where the sighting was located he had marked on the map in pencil.

  “That’s a long march.” John said. “Do you have a map of the entire U.S.?”

  Dennis went to a desk and shuffled through some papers. He pulled a map out and unfolded it on the desk. John looked around. He pulled some old army propaganda off the wall and pinned the map on the wall. With some colored tacks he marked the cities they knew were under Chinese attack. Then, he put the tack where the Chinese army was spotted in Up- State New York.

  “They’re treating the U.S. like World War II Germany.” John said to himself.

  “They are trying to get us to fight on two fronts.” Dennis said.

  “Exactly. If they get the ports in New York City they have an open path to the east coast and they move in on both sides. If we kept fighting them on the west coast we might have a chance. But once they set foot here, we are screwed.”

  Are you sure it’s only New York, they could hit Florida, Maryland, any of the major harbors.” Dennis said.

  “You’re probably right, but we have to go on what we know.” John said.

  Dennis was caught off-guard. An officer who listened to lower ranks? He didn’t know what kind of military he was in anymore but he liked it.

  “Could you map out some routes to New York? Somehow we have to get there before they do or at least push them into the sea if we get there late.” John said.

  “Yes, sir.” Dennis was excited, finally they were doing something. Listening to fighting going on in the rest of the country was too much to bear at times.

  Chapter 9: Midwest United States

  After the first two days at Norah’s farm, Fatima was ready to be back at hom
e. She knew that it would mean being alone with the kids and being the sole provider until she could be back at Norah’s. She had to check on the garden and make sure that the weeds were not overgrowing everything. She would be busy dehydrating and canning.

  Fatima told Norah she would be leaving and heading back home that morning at breakfast.

  “You still need help at the cabin don’t you?” she asked.

  “Yes, but I can’t let everything get out of control while I’m gone either.” Fatima explained.

  “What if I sent some help to stay with you? Bruce is back from another trip around the country and I think Isabel would love to get out of the house for a bit.” she suggested.

  Fatima thought about the offer and reluctantly accepted. She simply could not trust herself alone with a baby on the way. It wasn’t the best situation but it was better than nothing.

  When she arrived home she unloaded everything into the cabin and found it untouched. She was relieved and placed the rifle back above the fireplace. After the kids were in the house she checked on the garden and spotted what she expected. Low lying leaves were nibbled and removed by rabbits or woodchucks. The tomatoes had gone wild and grown well beyond where they should be. The peppers were ready for picking, greens were abundant, and root vegetables were ready to be harvested. She hated the Chinese for taking her husband away. She no longer felt guilty about sweat shops and slave labor like she did before The Day. She spent three hours picking everything from the garden then worked well into the night putting everything in storage. Tomatoes were canned. Carrots and root vegetables placed in boxes covered in sand for storage under the cabin. She learned a recipe for canning kale from a patient at her clinic. By the time she was done she had fallen asleep while breastfeeding her daughter.

  The next morning she sat on the porch waiting for the fur balls that were eating her garden. She stayed still and had the .22 sitting on her lap. It was a Ruger 10/22 that John had picked up at the market. The scope on it was zeroed in for 50 yards. She waited.

  In the morning dew a rabbit hopped out of the tree line. It sat for a second scoping things out before it started to come out of the woods. Fatima sat up slowly and raised the .22. The rabbit took a few more hops towards the garden. She aimed, squeezed the trigger. She went out to pick up lunch from the garden. Rabbit stew was something that little John enjoyed. Being gone from the cabin had made it easier to hunt for the time being. She hoped the crack of the rifle would be a reminder for the rest of the animals who were taking advantage of her absence from the cabin.

  In the afternoon Fatima read the herbal remedy books that she had collected in the past years. She had a traditional western medical degree but found it practically useless without a pharmacy and modern equipment. She had to rely on old methods and plants to help her patients. The upside was that people who stopped by were either there for a check-up or something that turned out to be serious. There were no longer girls coming in for pregnancy tests, complaints of sore muscles, vomiting from a few hours ago. The stupid complaints she had to deal with for years were gone. People appeared to be eating better, were more fit and healthier than she could remember. The obesity epidemic that was happening before The Day was no longer visible. America was healthy.

  Fatima took little John down to the river that evening to do some fishing. She was confident that he would be able to catch something for dinner since he and John had never come back to the cabin before without catching anything. She sat on a log with her daughter and rocked her while watching John put the worm on his line by himself and flick the line out into the water a good thirty yards. Almost right away he was pulling something in. A decent sized bass was on the end of the hook and John pulled it in by himself. He wasn’t sure how to get the fish off. His father usually did it for him. Fatima had the fishing bag and took the needle nose pliers out. She worked the pliers in the fish’s mouth and wiggled the hook out. John grabbed the fish and placed it in the wire basket. One down, a few more to go.

  An hour later little John had caught all the fish they would need for dinner. He was the man of the house. He was fulfilling what his father had told him to do. Fatima cleaned and scaled the fish. John watched so he would be able to do it one day. Fatima worried about the knife. Sharp and dangerous to the touch she didn’t look forward to him working with it any time soon. She filleted the fish and battered them. She cooked some greens and added some stale bread crumbs to the fish fillets. The three of them enjoyed the fish dinner. Afterwards, she read from The Hobbit and the kids fell asleep.

  The next day Fatima checked out the bread and butter of her clinic, the herb garden. Aside from mostly weeding, the garden was doing well. Everything she planted was thriving and she added some fresh compost to feed the plants. Some of them she picked and tied to hang in the cabin. The mint was expanding out like it always did. She dug some up and hung it in the cabin. The common stomach ailment cure she went through fast. It grew faster than she could use it. She sold it as a tea at the market and it sold fairly well. Real tea and other hot drinks were not available since most people didn’t have tea bushes in the U.S. Pine needle tea had become somewhat popular but that had more to do with getting vitamin C than anything else. She enjoyed seeing dandelion growing in the yard because it was easy money waiting to be picked. The brew master in town traded for fresh dandelion flowers so he could make wine out of it. A weed everybody killed they enjoyed was the best drink in town years later.

  Fatima never realized how much there could be done around a house before.

  Sitting on the porch that afternoon Fatima waited to see what might come out of the woods for dinner. She didn’t see any rabbit or woodchuck, but there was a squirrel that was eyeballing her tomato plants. They never ate the tomatoes. They would nibble on one and then throw it down as if it tasted nasty. Then they would grab another one and do it again. A waste of food for an animal that was stupid enough to try the same plant several times a day, several days in a row.

  Again she sat with the .22. The squirrel moved around the tree giving Fatima several clear shots. She waited. She wanted the squirrel to earn its death. The squirrel crawled down the tree. Stopping several times to make sure the area was clear. Then it went for a dead sprint to the garden. She kept the gun in her lap. When it reached the first tomato plant she finally grabbed the gun. The squirrel raised its arms to the bright orange fruit in front of it. She raised her gun to the squirrel. Grabbing the fruit the squirrel took a bite and then threw the fruit to the ground. Fatima fired and the squirrel dropped to the ground. It twirled and spun on the ground as if trying to get away from the bullet in its head. Fatima walked out to the garden and found the squirrel still moving.

  “Shouldn’t waste our food,” she said. She took a knife out and placed the tip behind the squirrels head and separated the spine from the skull. A quick death compared to what it was going through. Dinner was served.

  The day before the market, Fatima stayed up later than usual putting herbs together and collecting the dried leaves and roots. She used old plastic storage bins to carry and organize her new stash of pharmaceuticals. Her normal collection of tools sat on the table. She sat by herself, the kids asleep, the cabin quiet except for the crackle of the fireplace. She missed John. She had been keeping herself busy to keep her mind off his absence. The amount of energy she used throughout the day for days on end was catching up to her. A tear rolled down her cheek that she didn’t notice until it touched her lips. She brushed it away and let herself cry. Her hand rested on her belly. The child inside her was the closest she could be to him. She rubbed her belly and wished she could rest her head on it. Hear the heartbeat of their child. She felt a kick. She smiled. It was as if the baby knew that mom was having a difficult moment. She continued rubbing her belly. Finally, she went to bed and fell asleep.

  The next morning she took the kids to the market. Pulling the cart it was lighter than the week before having fewer items on it. She still carried a knife on her, she lef
t the rifle at the cabin, locked away and hidden. A deer ran out in front of her on the way to the market, they stared at one another. The kids were still sleeping on the cart. The deer walked across the path and started eating from the brush. She walked by and the deer stayed put unthreatened by her.

  Reaching the market she set up at her booth and placed all of her tools out. It was almost the end of the season. The market would close soon. People rushed around trying to collect what they needed before the long winter months. Fatima bargained with her patients. Some tried to schedule visits during the winter but without John being home it wasn’t possible to do home visits. Fatima tried to think of alternative ways of seeing her patients during the winter and unless they were able to come to the cabin they would be without their doctor.

  Fatima thought she still might be a few weeks away from giving birth to their third child. She figured that a month before her due date she would stay at Norah’s so that she was with someone when she went into labor. As was the new norm, Fatima continued to store away food. She packed dried fish in salt, she smoked other kinds. She tried to trade her services for some jerky and other stored meat but didn’t receive much. The chickens provided plenty of eggs. The problem with the chickens was how easy it was for predators to get them. John and Fatima let the chickens have plenty of chicks. Their numbers doubled in a year but some of them were lost to foxes, cats, and some disease. John didn’t have all the answers from his homesteading book. It did prove to be enough to get started and have a steady supply of food. Fatima worried about the chickens while she would be gone. It wouldn’t be easy to take them with her if she tried to do such a thing. Her rooster would fight Norah’s, the hens would be territorial, and she would lose just as many trying to keep them with her than if she left them at the cabin.

  Things were difficult without having family to help. She could not have the baby on her own and yet everyone’s life depended on being home and taking care of the animals and plants that gave them life. She was alone in doing this, all of it, and it frightened her.