by Byron Tucker
Pointing at Jimmy, he said, “Open that door and toss those guns as hard as you can throw them.”
He looked at him and said, “I think this is a really bad idea, Dad.”
“Don't argue with me, Jimmy. Do as I say. Now.”
A blast of frigid air rushed inside as Jimmy opened the side door and stepped outside. Picking up each of the guns one by one, he slung them into the void. Sam wondered if the ice was thick enough to withstand the guns landing on top of it. Like it mattered, anyhow. If getting rid of their guns was the price they needed to pay to enter Coalition Territory, it would be worth it.
Jimmy slammed the door shut and hurled himself back into his seat. “Okay, Dad, the guns are in the river. Let's roll.”
Sam shifted the motorhome back into gear while looking at the gas gauge, which read one fourth of a tank. He just had to hope they could get gas soon, or they'd be stranded in short order. The propane they had with them for heat would last a few days, tops, and then they'd freeze. Unless they could get shelter somewhere. Positive thoughts, Sam. Positive thoughts.
In less than a minute, they were back on dry land again, and Sam spotted a cluster of lights up ahead, which gave him hope that the power was on. If the power was on, then there would probably be gas. After about another minute, he discovered the lights were actually some sort of checkpoint, positioned just before the first exit within Kentucky. Glad there was no line of vehicles they'd have to wait behind, he slowed down to about twenty and eased toward the check point, which looked increasingly formidable as they approached it. Military vehicles were positioned all over the place, as well as a number of temporary structures occupying the median and both sides of the Interstate. Drawing closer still, several men in heavy winter gear emerged from the buildings, all of them carrying what looked like M-16s.
Sam glanced over at his son and said, “Just let me do the talking, okay. We'll get through this, I promise.”
Jimmy gave him a sullen look in return.
Sam opened his window as he eased to a stop in front of the group of men holding up their hands. Almost immediately, one of the armed soldiers came up to the side of the vehicle as two more walked around to the other side. The first soldier said, “Is the passenger door unlocked?”
“Um, yes, it is.” Upon hearing his reply, the man gave a signal to the others, which resulted in the side door being opened. Two colossal men climbed inside, waving their weapons around menacingly.
Eliza screamed. One of the men spoke in a gruff voice. “All of you, outside now.”
Irene stood up and said, “My daughter has asthma, if she goes out in that cold, she's liable to have an attack.”
The second of the two men physically grabbed Irene by the arm and tugged her toward the exit. “Do as you're told.”
To his horror, Sam saw his wife and daughter being shoved out the door without even having time to grab their coats. Spotting the gold coins on the console, he grabbed them and got up, urging his son to do the same.
“You two, get out. Now!” the man barked.
Sam felt the tip of a gun being shoved into his back after he stepped out of the motorhome, the frigid air coming as a shock. Looking over at Irene and Eliza, already shivering due to the lack of protection, he turned to the man behind him and said, “At least allow me to get coats for my wife and daughter.”
The soldier ignored him as yet another soldier approached, who asked in a gruff voice, “Where is your family going?”
Sam thought about telling him off, but he really needed to make this as short as possible so they could get back into the motorhome. “We're headed to Mobile.”
“Do you have family there, or anyone to take you in?”
Figuring telling the truth wouldn't hurt, he said, “No, but a freighter is scheduled to take us to Costa Rica.”
The man let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Yeah, and it's going to be sunny and eighty degrees tomorrow. May I see your Evacuation Corridor papers?”
Sam shook his head. “We have no such thing. We've been driving down from Upper Michigan, down through Wisconsin and Illinois. There's been no place for us to get them.”
The man shook his head, making a tsk, tsk sound. “That's gonna cost ya.”
Before he had a chance to reply, one of the other soldiers emerged from the motorhome holding up a pistol in his hand, wearing a triumphant smile. “We've got a hot one here.”
Sam looked over at Jimmy, who shrugged his shoulders. Then the man who'd been questioning him said, “Do you know that guns are prohibited in Coalition territory?”
“Yes, I did, sir, but I was unaware we had that on board.”
“Yeah, right,” the man replied in a mocking tone. That's what everybody says.” He motioned to a young soldier that'd been standing off to the side and then said, “You are hereby placed under arrest.”
Sam struggled as the other soldier grabbed his wrists and slapped a pair of handcuffs on him. “Hey, what the hell, you can't do that! I have food on board, lots of it. Just let me and my family go, please.”
The man laughed in a haughty manner, glancing at one of the other men stepping out of the motorhome with two cases of MREs in his arms. “Since you folks actually have something that we need, I'm going to be a nice guy and send the rest of your family on their merry way. You, however, will be kept in detention and charged with illegal possession of a firearm.”
Sam could only watch helplessly while the rest of the MREs they had on board were off-loaded, taking small comfort that they hadn't found the gold or cash. They seemed to be thrilled about finding the cases of MREs, with several of the men happily ruminating about having full stomachs for once.
The soldier who had been questioning him pointed to the other members of Sam's family. “The three of you are free to go.”
Irene stepped forward and shouted, “Where are you taking my husband?”
The soldier looked at her and said, “To the detention center. And don't think you'll be able to bail him out, either. We don't do that here. It is my suggestion that you get back in your RV and go to wherever you plan on going.”
Two additional men came up behind Irene and the kids and herded them back on board, quickly closing the door behind them. Another man standing in front of the still-running vehicle cupped his hands and shouted, “You have thirty seconds to get moving, or we'll seize the vehicle.”
Sam looked up to see Jimmy getting into the driver's seat, putting the vehicle into motion. Irene beat on the side window with her fists while it passed him, screaming loud enough for him to hear her through the glass.
After the motorhome lumbered through the narrow opening of the checkpoint, Sam looked at several of the soldiers in turn. “You guys are going to pay for this. This is not how we do things in America.”
The man that'd found the gun stepped up to him and grabbed his face with a gloved hand. “There is no more America, you dumb twit. You'd better be thankful that you had all that food on board, since that's putting us in a very good mood.” The man pointed at the young soldier who'd put the handcuffs on him. “Take him away so we can get out of this goddammed cold.”
Jimmy's Journal Entry, December 20th, 2019
Well, we're in a real pickle, and I have no idea of what to do about it, and neither does Mom. If having to shoot our way through a bunch of highway bandits wasn't bad enough, Dad got arrested when we entered into Coalition Territory yesterday morning. It's really my fault, as I knew we had that gun on board, I just had it hidden in the bathroom hoping that they'd not find it. But they did, and as a result, they arrested Dad and forced the rest of us to keep going. We didn't go far, though, just into the town of Paducah, and we were able to find a safe place to park, behind a shopping center until we could figure out what to do next. Mom was freaking out like you wouldn't believe, and it took ages for me to calm her down. I had to convince her that we'd not go another mile until we found a way to get Dad out of jail, even if it meant missing our ship. I know there's no way
we'd go to Costa Rica without Dad, and once I was able to convince Mom of that, she finally stopped freaking out so badly.
In a way, we're lucky the men found our food, as they were happy just to get that, and they didn't even bother searching for other stuff, otherwise they'd found our gold and cash. They must have been really hungry, if food is all they really cared about, besides finding that gun. Why they wanted to arrest Dad like that is beyond me – Mom can't understand it either, but at least we have lots of cash and gold that we can use to hopefully buy his way out, if we can get through to anybody who'll listen.
Rather than just sit and do nothing, I suggested that we drive around to see if we could find anybody to help us, as well as getting gas, which we desperately needed to keep the motorhome running. As luck would have it, we found an open gas station yesterday afternoon that was selling gas for two hundred fifty dollars a gallon, and we bought sixty gallons, which came up to an unbelievable fifteen thousand dollars. It's just as well, as I have a feeling cash money will be worthless soon, so it's good that we were able to get gas at all. We still have something like fifteen thousand left, plus all those gold coins plus the silver, and most importantly, we have a full tank of gas. But the scary thing is that there is no place to buy food, anywhere. Everybody we've come across has begged us for food, which we don't have, since those assholes took the rest of our MREs. It's really scary, as people are wandering around looking as if they're starving to death, which they probably are. Their faces are really thin and haggard, and the most horrible thing of all is seeing kids crying because they don't have food.
So, this is the nasty problem that faces us. We have no way of getting Dad out of jail, as we have no idea where he's being held, and every time we've come across soldiers or people in charge, they've given us the blow-off. Since it's been over a day since we've eaten (we did find some snacks and leftovers in the fridge that they missed, we had that for lunch yesterday,) all of us are getting really hungry. I thought it was bad back at Uncle Ryan's when Nora put us on rations, but this is way worse, not having ANY food to eat. With no way to get more, at any price, we really can't stay here much longer. But we can't just leave without Dad, so we're sitting here gnashing our teeth about what to do. I finally told Mom that we'll drive around some more tomorrow to try and find where Dad is being held, which can't be too far from here. Once we do that, we'll offer as many gold coins as we need to buy his freedom. Mom says that gold is worthless, that the only thing people care about is food, but I think she's wrong. Gold always has value, we were just really lucky that the soldiers didn't find our stash. Plus we have still have all that cash, that's gotta be worth something, since were able to buy gas with it. So what we have to do is to one, find out where Dad is, and two, bribe whomever we need to get him out of there. As soon as we do that, we can blast our way south, and tomorrow being the 21st, we still have a few days yet to spare in order to meet our boat.
I actually wanted to go exploring tonight, to save time, but since the snow is coming down really hard now, I figured Mom was right about us staying put for another night, especially since we're in a safe spot where we're not likely to be bothered by anybody.
I shudder at the thought of not being able to get Dad out of jail tomorrow, because if we don't, we may be forced to hit the road just so we can find food. If we just stay put here day after day, we're going to be starving just like everyone else in this god-forsaken town. It's just an awful situation, and Mom's not making it easier with her constant crying and freaking out. Eliza's asthma is getting really bad too, and we've had to do three treatments today. Mom thinks she's running a fever, which is the last thing we need right now, especially since we can't even get some soup to feed her.
I'd better stop writing now, as this is getting way too depressing. I just have to hope that we're able to locate Dad, get him out and get our butts to Mobile. There is no other alternative. I sure wish I had some way of talking with Uncle Ryan right now, as he'd know what to do. But we'll find a way, I just know we will, God willing. I just wish I wasn't so stupid, trying to sneak that gun past the border. It was my fault for getting into this mess, and I'm the one that's going to have to get us out of it.
Chapter 29
Finding a quiet spot to eat the bowl of thin oatmeal and the single slice of bread they fed the detainees twice a day, Sam took stock of his current situation. Once he'd been taken away from the checkpoint, the rest of his family forced to drive to a place unknown, he was transported some miles to the west of the Interstate, to what appeared to be a massive warehouse complex next to an airport. Apparently the Coalition military had converted it into a working military base, which included a large detainment area containing approximately a thousand detainees, nearly all of them male.
A thin, scruffy-looking man sat down at the table in front of him. After wolfing down a few spoonfuls of his oatmeal, the man looked at Sam and said, “I haven't seen you around here before. Are you new?”
Sam nodded his head. “Yes, I was arrested yesterday at the checkpoint, for possessing a handgun.”
The man took a couple more bites before replying. “Yeah, you look a bit older than most. I guess they're rounding up as many people as they can for the big invasion.”
Sam gave him a puzzled look. “What invasion?”
The man laughed while he scooped up the last of his oatmeal with his bread. “You haven't heard? President Barnes is getting ready to mount a full-scale invasion of Texas. He claims to have a million-man army ready to roll, but who knows if that's true or not. There's just a few thousand of us here in this complex, although I hear they've got a base with a couple hundred thousand down in Arkansas, with lots more coming from the camps in Florida. If you wanna know the truth, I think the President is using this invasion to ease the population pressure a bit, know what I mean?”
Sam covered his mouth in growing horror. “You're telling me they're planning to use us as soldiers to invade another state? What if we refuse to fight?”
The grizzled man laughed. “Refuse to follow orders, you'll be shot. Do as they say, you might live to see another day. If you're lucky.”
“When might this take place, this invasion of Texas?”
He shrugged his shoulders, preparing to get up from the table. “We were supposed to move out a week ago, but we're in wait-and-see mode right now. The latest word is they're moving us out tomorrow, but I've heard that before.”
The man stood up and walked away, denying him the chance to ask further questions. I've got to find a way to get out of here, Sam thought, quickly polishing off the rest of his oatmeal. My family will never make it on their own.
Soon after making his way back to his cot, wondering if he should question some of the other detainees for information, a couple of burly guards came up out of nowhere, brusquely grabbing him by the arms.
“You're coming with us, mister,” one of them said, several pair of eyes staring at him curiously.
“What for? I haven't done anything.”
“The commander wants to see you,” the other one said. “I suggest you cooperate.”
Sam was led out of the cavernous hall into a dimly illuminated corridor which seemed to go on forever, turning right and left and right again. Finally, he was led into a bare-walled office, where a gray-haired man in dress uniform stood behind a metal desk.
Motioning with his hand, he said, “You two, you may leave. I'll handle him.”
After the two escorts left the cramped office, the commander pointed to the chair next to where Sam stood. “Sit.”
After he complied, the commander said, “What is your name?”
Figuring it was best to just tell the truth, he said, “I'm Samuel Durant.”
“And your age?”
“Forty-seven.”
“Family members?”
“Yes, a wife, a son and a daughter, who are in desperate need of me, I might add.”
“You have a brother, yes?”
Wondering how the
man could possibly know that, he paused for a few seconds and then said, “Yes, I do. His name is Ryan, age fifty.”
“Whereabouts does he live?”
Not liking where this was going, Sam froze, keeping his lips pressed together.
“Where does Ryan live?” The commander urged.
“Upper Michigan somewhere, I think. We've been estranged for years, ever since he's had a mental breakdown and became a hermit, so I am unaware of his exact location.” Good job, Sam. Now the man knows you're bullshitting him.
The commander nodded grimly. “I get the feeling you're not telling the truth. I need for you to tell me his current location. It is of utmost importance for national security.”
Suddenly filled with anger, Sam shouted, “So you can use him to fight this idiotic civil war with Texas? If that's the case, then I refuse to cooperate any further.”
The commander let out an annoyed grunt and called for the guards. When they came into the office, he said, “Take him to the holding cell.”
Sam was led down another stretch of hallway and unceremoniously shoved into a tiny, windowless cell with a fold-down cot along one wall. While the guards locked the door behind him, Sam took a seat on the cot, burying his face in his hands. Oh gosh, what have I gotten myself into now?
Minutes ticked by, and then hours, with zero indication of what was to become of him. He had an inkling they were going to “interrogate” him to determine where his brother lived, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why they would want Ryan so badly. It'd been a decade and a half since he got out of the military supply business, and going by the huge falling-out he had with George Barnes, it was difficult to imagine him even wanting to speak with Ryan again, let alone tap him for his military computer expertise.
However, that wasn't his biggest worry. His biggest concern was the fate of his family, who were probably parked somewhere in Paducah, worrying about him as much as he was about them. Ironically, he was probably in better shape than they were, since he was being fed, whereas his wife and children were most likely without food. Going by the chatter he had overheard in the detention hall, food was in extremely short supply in Paducah and just about everywhere else in the Coalition, making him wonder how his family would be able to obtain sustenance If he had his way, they'd go on to Mobile without him. But, knowing his wife and son, they'd stick around as long as possible in an effort to get him out of detention.