Winter Fall

by Byron Tucker

  Ryan laughed. “Or I could move in there, have myself some privacy.”

  Sam pointed a finger at him. “Yes, that too. Not a bad idea, actually.”

  Ryan patted Sam on the back, still smiling. “Looks like we've got ourselves a little project to sink our teeth into. If there's one thing we need to be doing around here, it's to keep ourselves busy.”

  Sam couldn't have agreed more. “You're absolutely right about that, Ryan. We do need to keep busy.”

  Jimmy's Journal Entry, October 11th, 2019

  Since the winds started howling this morning and we were able to have electric power in the house from the windmills, I got my tablet charged up, and then I figured I'd better write a journal entry, since it's been, like over two months since I did one last.

  Gosh, I don't even know where to begin. Let me bring you up to date where we stand. As far as we can tell, the United States, and the most of the Northern Hemisphere, is kaput. World War Three lasted less than a month, but it's by far the worse war ever fought in all of history, and in the end, everybody lost. Ryan says that all those people would have died in the coming starvation anyhow, but who knows. All those nukes going off sure isn't going to make the volcanic winter any better, that's for sure.

  But all is calm now, at least according to the news reports coming in on the shortwave. Since there is no more national government (that we know of) here in the US, some of the states are doing their best to hold on, especially Georgia, Florida and Texas, although Texas considers themselves “sovereign,” which means they're not allowing people to come there from the rest of the country. But like Ryan keeps saying, there's really only enough food around to last a few more months, and those people will end up starving just like everywhere else, especially if there's millions of refugees living in tent cities and stuff. Dad thinks they can import food from South America, but it looks like those countries have their hands full just dealing with their own people, so I doubt they'll be able to help the U.S. anytime soon. The funny thing is that I heard a report the other day about all these people escaping to New Zealand when the planes were still flying, like thousands of them, all of them lucky enough to come up with a million each in cash or gold equivalent to gain entry. The “new Switzerland,” they were calling it. Too bad we'll never be able to do anything like that.

  Enough about that, it's too depressing and there's nothing we can do about it anyhow, except focus on what we need to do to survive. Speaking of survival skills, I shot my very first turkey yesterday, with a crossbow. Awesome, huh? What's amazing is that I got it with just the second arrow I shot, this being the very first time I've used a crossbow. Uncle Ryan says that I'm a natural at this, so he's going to take me on a real hunting expedition when the wind and snow lets up a bit. If we can bring in some game, it'll keep us from having to hit the food reserves so hard. I still think we should go out on a salvage mission sometime, just to see if there's stuff to be found, but Uncle Ryan and Dad both say nyet to that.

  As for Dad, yeah, he's the one that's been taking it the hardest. Uncle Ryan, he's doing great, as he's been ready for this thing for years, and Mom is doing okay too, keeping busy in the kitchen. And if there's anything positive to say about the past couple of months, it's how well Eliza's been doing. The tent thing worked really well when the ash was falling, which lasted about three weeks, and while she had a couple bad attacks, we were able to get through it okay, and she's been doing great for about a month now. Mom's got her down to every other day on the nebulizer, doing half-doses each time. At this rate, she figures she has enough meds to last a month or two longer, but what in the hell are we going to do then? Hopefully Uncle Ryan and Dad will change their mind about going out to look for stuff, like soon, before other people take it all.

  That's the thing I don't understand about Uncle Ryan. Here is this guy, used to be a tough biker guy and everything, and he's got himself a great collection of guns, and yet he's going around saying we need to be on the down low, that we can't risk anyone knowing that we're out here. Hell, man, I say let them come and try and steal from us. We can just stand on the front porch and pick them off as they come up the driveway. The people that go around looting and killing aren't going to be out roaming in the woods anyhow, they'll stick to places where there's a lot more stuff to be found, like in Houghton. And besides, we're going to have to use the guns at some point, for deer hunting, and I know Uncle Ryan can't be burning propane forever, and it's only good for heating the house, not the shop. Maybe when the snow gets nice and deep, Uncle Ryan will feel better about breaking out the guns, and get the wood burner in the shop going, so we can hang out in the motorhome we've got parked in there now.

  About the motorhome, they decided that it was best to have it under shelter, so we spent most of yesterday and today cutting out an opening so it could be driven inside there. It was nice, as me, Dad and Uncle Ryan had something to work on, which was really good for Dad anyhow. He's been going bonkers for having nothing to do at all, getting to the point of him yelling at me for the stupidest things, like me wearing Ryan's riding leathers. He says it makes me look like a freak, but what the hell, I need it to keep warm outside, especially with it getting really nasty now. But yeah, I can tell Dad's feeling a little more upbeat about getting the motorhome under shelter, and he's suggesting that Uncle Ryan move into it so he can have some space to himself. But Uncle Ryan doesn't want to burn wood yet, so who knows when that'll happen. I say burn the dammed wood and not worry if anyone sees the smoke or not. Uncle Ryan is just being stupid, I think.

  As for what's going to happen in the future, who knows. I don't think any of us like to dwell on it too much. We all know Chicago is a burned-out wasteland, so there will be no going home for sure. Dad thinks we can flee south at some point, but like Uncle Ryan keeps saying, where would we go? Into some massive government-run camp, where there's not enough food for everybody? I don't think we have any choice but to stay put right where we are and stick it out. I can help hunt for game, and maybe it'll be warm enough next summer to grow a few things in greenhouse tents that we could place on the south-facing slope of the hill. And I'm sure there will be other people that we'll be able to hook up with at some point and work together to make a go of it for the long term. Uncle Ryan says I'm doing very well to stay as optimistic as I have been, but I'm like, what other choice do I have? Being all depressed and mopey sure isn't going to help things – that's what Mom keeps saying, too. All of us need to stay as positive as we can, so we can do the things we need to do to survive.

  I'd write more, but Uncle Ryan is ready to hit the sack, so I've got to put the tablet away. Hopefully I'll be able to keep this thing charged up more so I can write more entries about what we're doing around here.

  Chapter 15

  President George Barnes gazed out over the hushed confines of the chamber. The thirteen state governors were grouped together on one side, their elected representatives, two from each state, on the other. While there was a great deal of work to be done, Barnes was pleased with the progress he'd effected so far: With the President and Vice President having been killed in the destruction of Washington some weeks previously, he had named himself President as specified in the United States Constitution, although he'd only been able to get thirteen states to recognize the validity of his office. The states included were: Virginia, West Virginia, Kentucky, Missouri, Tennessee, Arkansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama (Barnes' home state), Georgia, Florida and the Carolinas. Texas, of course, had gone the other way, declaring themselves an independent state, taking in Oklahoma and New Mexico into its fold. The other states, in the Northeast, Midwest and West were either in too much disarray or had yet to make up their minds about joining the Coalition, the name given to the states Barnes presided over.

  Yes, there was a great deal of work to be done, but his long-held dream of a resurrected, conservative-minded America was well on its way to becoming reality. Tapping the microphone in front of him to make sure it was work
ing, he began speaking.

  “Ladies and gentleman. We are gathered here today to mark a crucial turning point in our long, hard-fought recovery from the terrible disaster which has been wrought upon our great nation. Although the other nations of the world do not yet formally recognize our new government, the Russia-China Alliance has accepted our cease-fire agreement, and I will be working hard in coming days to bring about a permanent end to hostilities.” He paused to allow a round of vigorous applause to ripple around the room.

  When things quietened down again, he continued, “Although we are on the verge of achieving peace with other nations, we are faced with two great challenges. The first challenge that faces us is the terrible winter we will all soon be facing. My sources inform me that the entire northern half of the United States will be rendered uninhabitable by December, which necessitates the need to evacuate the northern states as much as it is possible. To this end, I have proposed the creation of evacuation corridors leading from the Northeast and the Midwest and Western states into Florida, where I have ordered the construction of eight large-scale refugee camps. In coming days, I will be engaging in talks with representatives from Brazil and Argentina to provide much-needed food supplies for our people.”

  A murmur rippled around the room. The was news to most of them. In actuality, he had yet to engage Brazil or Argentina in talks to provide food for the Coalition states, but nobody needed to know that yet. What people needed right now was hope and it was his job to give it to them.

  He resumed his speech. “Our second great challenge, as most of you are aware, is Texas. There is no greater threat to our survival as a nation than a breakaway Texas, for we must be united if we are to survive this terrible winter. To this end, I have directed a build-up in our military along the western borders of the Coalition as a statement of force – to show Texas that we will not be cowed by their ill-fated attempt to go it alone. We need Texas, and while they may not realize it yet, Texas needs us. We will be united as a nation!”

  The roar of approval reverberated around the room, and nearly everyone in the audience rose to their feet in support. If there was one thing uniting the Coalition states, it was anger towards Texas and their attempt to isolate themselves from the nation's woes. Boy, this is going to be an easy sale, he thought to himself as the crowd continued to show their support. And by golly, we'll get Texas back, or die trying.

  Barnes wrapped up his speech a few minutes later, and made a hasty retreat to a private conference room where he had a scheduled meeting with several of his closest advisors. Once they were ensconced in the wood-paneled room, safe from the prying eyes of the media, Barnes called the meeting to order. He briefly made eye contact with General Ackerman, his right-hand man.

  “Okay, gentleman,” he began, sweeping his gaze around the long table. “The support is there, as you've just seen out in the chambers. The question that faces us is how we're going to go about getting Texas back.”

  Ackerman was the first to speak. “I think we should roll the tanks now, make a solid push to Dallas and down to Austin. Once the good people of Texas see that we're willing to use force, they'll fold up like a house of cards.”

  Barnes held up his palm. “Not so fast. I believe we should make a show of force, not a use of force. Not yet. I have a few tricks up my sleeve I'd like to try first.”

  Although the general gave a nod of acknowledgment, the rest of the men seated at the table gave him looks of confusion and mild surprise. One of them said, “And what tricks might those be?”

  “Getting the rest of the world to recognize that they're the breakaway state instead of us. My negotiations with the Russia-China Alliance is a big step in this regard, although I've yet to make much headway with the UN. In the meantime, however, I have a group of individuals working on a plan to bring down the communication networks within Texas by way of computer viral attacks.”

  A ripple of assent and acknowledgments circled the table. “Furthermore, I'm sending in a number of moles to infiltrate the Texan military, so that when we do move in, we'll be able to cripple them from the inside out.”

  A pasty-faced gentleman, a director of the now-defunct CIA, spoke up. “It would be even better if we could somehow infect their military hardware with a computer virus. Bringing down their communication systems won't be enough, as they'd just fall back upon redundant systems. We need to find a way to cripple their hardware, to ground their tanks and planes and fuel depots. This will allow us to move in and take Texas with minimal loss of life.”

  Easier said than done. “That's actually a very good suggestion, Mr...”

  “Zimmerman.”

  “Ah yes, Zimmerman. I'll have to propose that to my IT people, see if they have any bright ideas.”

  Zimmerman spoke again. “How about that former business partner of yours, Durant? Ryan Durant, if I recall correctly. He'd be the man you'd need to break the code, as he's the one who's designed the security systems to begin with.”

  Barnes' jaw dropped open in surprise. Durant had proved to be so much of an embarrassment to him in the past that he'd done his best to isolate himself from the man in the years since they'd parted ways, making a point to have zero contact with him in the intervening years. And yet this man knows about him. He was right, however. If there was one person out there who had the ability to throw a monkey wrench in the Texan military software and consequently their hardware, it was Ryan Durant.

  “Sir?” Zimmerman quipped. “Is there something wrong?”

  Barnes shook his head. “Just reliving some old memories, is all. But yes, you're absolutely right about the man. He'd be the ticket – if I could get hold of him.”

  “Do you know where he is now?” General Ackerman asked.

  Barnes turned to look at him. “No, I do not, unfortunately.”

  “Then perhaps we should focus our efforts on locating him,” Zimmerman replied.

  A long silence cloaked the table like a heavy blanket. Finally, Barnes said, “Yes, we should. Zimmerman, I'll let you put together a task force devoted to locating his whereabouts. Should we find a way to locate him, I'd like to bring him in as quickly as possible.”

  “What if he doesn't agree to come along?” The man sitting next to Zimmerman asked.

  Barnes laughed. “It doesn't matter if he agrees or not. If I want him, and if we're able to locate him, I'm bringing him in. Is that understood?”

  The men lining the table nodded their heads in agreement.

  Barnes stood up. “Well, I'd better go feed the media hacks some morsels. We'll convene again tomorrow morning at 0900 hours. Thank you all.”

  Chapter 16

  Careful not to wake the others, Ryan tip-toed over to the foyer, and slipped his arms into his heavy coat. It'd been a howling snowstorm all night long, and he was curious to see how deep the snow had gotten. He waited for a momentary lull in the wind, he opened the front door and stepped outside as quietly as he could, emerging into knee-deep snow. Although it was barely light outside, he could see an utterly transformed landscape. Everything was covered in a thick blanket of snow. Bitter northwest winds had been blowing for three days straight, bringing copious amounts of lake effect snow onto the Keweenaw. Normally, this sort of thing didn't happen until December, but due to Yellowstone, they were getting this in the middle of October.

  God only knows what winter will be like. He remembered his cigs and lighter in his coat pocket, got one out and sparked it, relishing the first puff of the day. That was the nice thing about smoking, it gave him a moment's respite from the harsh reality of post-apocalyptic living. He chuckled to himself sardonically as he turned his face away from a sharp gust of wind. The reality of their situation was not how bad things were at the moment, but how tough things were going to be in the future. With the prospects of his brother's family being able to leave any time soon being pretty close to nil, they were going to have to adjust to the reality of living a whole different way of life, for a very long time to come. If
there was one person that Ryan felt would do okay – perhaps even thrive in this harsh, new world, it was Jimmy. As for the rest of them...

  He took a deep drag, almost to the point of coughing. If there was one thing people couldn't prep for, it was the psychological aspect of things. If you didn't have it right in the head, it didn't matter how prepared you were. Staying sane was crucial for survival, especially as a part of a group. Ryan had to give credit to Irene and Eliza for well they were doing, but there was no denying the horror that would beset them when Eliza's life-sustaining medicines ran out. If Eliza dies this winter...

  No, he couldn't allow that to happen. It would break the spirits of the whole family, making it that much more difficult to carry on through the rest of the volcanic winter. Although he'd been able to obtain a limited supply of medicines early on directly from the pharmacist in town, Jimmy was right about the need for a salvage mission, although Ryan hated to think about the risk. However, with a heavy blanket of snow on the ground, he would be able to take the snowmobile out, and with the roads likely to be unplowed, the movement of regular vehicles would be severely limited. It wouldn't make things entirely safe, but certainly safer than before.

  With the hope of Jimmy remaining asleep a while longer, Ryan trudged through the snow over to the shop, keying his way into the dark, frigid interior. Since the windmills were still spinning, he allowed himself the luxury of flipping on the main lights, illuminating the motorhome which took up most of the free space of the shop's interior. The idea of moving into it tempted him more than ever, especially if he was able to draw electrical power. He could watch DVDs, read his books in silence, sleep in a nice, comfy bed... It was really too much to resist, as sleeping on the couch in the overcrowded house was getting tiresome. What the hell, I'm going to have to start burning wood sometime.